I am striving mightily not to follow the Red Sox at this point. I haven't even read the individual statistics all year, which is usually my favorite aspect. But I have succumbed to temptation and looked at the standings once a week.
Boston is in an essential tie with Philly and Toronto for 2nd place in all of baseball in Runs Scored (Yankees are first). But the Red Sox are fourth-to-last in Runs Allowed. This was supposed to be a pitching and defense team.
So it all depends - if you think their pitching will seriously come around, the Sox will contend. The Runs Scored are sufficient for any team to be a contender. If you think the pitching will not even be good, never mind excellent this year, then they have no chance. None. When you are already near the top of the curve in hitting, there just isn't that much realistic space for you to get enough better to change your wins and losses. The league best is a little better than 900 runs most years. A handful of teams have scored 1000. The Red Sox are on pace to score about 890. Lots of teams win the pennant with 890. If they started hitting at best-of-the-decade pace from here on out, they wouldn't score that many more runs.
OTOH, there are a few teams this year that have allowed just a little more than half as many runs as the Sox. Like 55% as many. To contend, Boston needs to reduce its Runs Allowed by something like 40%! I'm sure no team has done that for longer than a month.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Retriever On Doubt
Not only does commenter retriever have an accurate description of what it's like to go through times of doubt, she also says nice things about me. Which is the important thing, of course.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Condescension
I have a speculation, an hypothesis. I stress that because I have not data to support it, and I'm not sure how one would even acquire such.
I have commented often that standard-issue elite liberals socially enforce tribal discipline with condescension. It is a warning that one might next be socially excluded. I likely have given the impression that this condescension is always delivered with a sneer, whether orally or in print. Much of it is, but that is not universal. There are earnest, wide-eyed liberal folks who don't necessarily mean to condescend, and have no trace of it in their tone. They are just commenting, with general bonhommy (reference?) about how the general mass of humanity needs to be educated about their particular cause, and we need to raise awareness about this or that. They are not aware of any especial contempt for the great unwashed, they just don't know, not like thier good friends who have read the right books.
So just keep that piece in mind when I suggest the following.
Who would be most vulnerable to being affected by such condescension, whether said meanly or earnestly? The vague discomfort of sensing a world of the intelligent, good people almost in reach - but one you could be turned away from as not quite good enough? Young people, certainly, but also any outgroup, especially minorities. The Jews have developed an American strategy of "we'll beat you at your own game," and in many ways taken over many of the wittier, more cosmopolitan high spots. Not only do we get it, we get it better than you. We can grab these spots and set the rules.
I would think African-Americans, especially bright and educated ones who hover at the brink of acceptance into the elitest - most righteous, most thoughtful - would be highly susceptible to the promised charms of entry into the inner circle.
Perhaps I am projecting. I was a bright child of divorced parents in an era when divorce was not mentioned aloud, who always felt I had something to prove, and for whom entrace into an inner circle could be very sweet. I was vulnerable and susceptible, and perhaps I assume too much about others. But it intrigues me.
It is much easier for me to shrug off the condescension of liberals because I proved I could do it. I don't have any fears that I wasn't clever enough or socially aware of subtle cues that progressives identify each other with. I did it, and I have to tell you it's not that hard to be a liberal. It is far more socially demanding, sensing the room and knowing where to get reinforcement for your sense of superiority, than it is intellectually demanding.
I have commented often that standard-issue elite liberals socially enforce tribal discipline with condescension. It is a warning that one might next be socially excluded. I likely have given the impression that this condescension is always delivered with a sneer, whether orally or in print. Much of it is, but that is not universal. There are earnest, wide-eyed liberal folks who don't necessarily mean to condescend, and have no trace of it in their tone. They are just commenting, with general bonhommy (reference?) about how the general mass of humanity needs to be educated about their particular cause, and we need to raise awareness about this or that. They are not aware of any especial contempt for the great unwashed, they just don't know, not like thier good friends who have read the right books.
So just keep that piece in mind when I suggest the following.
Who would be most vulnerable to being affected by such condescension, whether said meanly or earnestly? The vague discomfort of sensing a world of the intelligent, good people almost in reach - but one you could be turned away from as not quite good enough? Young people, certainly, but also any outgroup, especially minorities. The Jews have developed an American strategy of "we'll beat you at your own game," and in many ways taken over many of the wittier, more cosmopolitan high spots. Not only do we get it, we get it better than you. We can grab these spots and set the rules.
I would think African-Americans, especially bright and educated ones who hover at the brink of acceptance into the elitest - most righteous, most thoughtful - would be highly susceptible to the promised charms of entry into the inner circle.
Perhaps I am projecting. I was a bright child of divorced parents in an era when divorce was not mentioned aloud, who always felt I had something to prove, and for whom entrace into an inner circle could be very sweet. I was vulnerable and susceptible, and perhaps I assume too much about others. But it intrigues me.
It is much easier for me to shrug off the condescension of liberals because I proved I could do it. I don't have any fears that I wasn't clever enough or socially aware of subtle cues that progressives identify each other with. I did it, and I have to tell you it's not that hard to be a liberal. It is far more socially demanding, sensing the room and knowing where to get reinforcement for your sense of superiority, than it is intellectually demanding.
Emotionalism Over At Reason
Radley Balko of Reason.com is guest-posting on Instapundit, and links to a story about a Congressman resigning, adding his own comments. For example,
People who approve of drunk-driving laws sometimes drive when they have had too many, and still approve of such laws after they have been caught (In some instances, they approve of them more). Folks who stretch the truth usually still disapprove of lying. A man might steal something and still approve of personal property laws. Doctors who write scrips for off-label uses still approve of pharmaceutical regulation; lawyers sometimes break the law; Cowards may wish they had courage.
Presumably, one might approve greatly of reason, even naming a magazine or a website after it, yet still not be always logical.
St. Paul tells us to take every thought captive. Miss Manners teaches us that politeness, properly understood, is the foundation of civilization. Old proverbs tell us to say nothing if we can't say something nice, or to make our words sweet because we may have to eat them. I approve of all of these rules. I don't always follow them, but I approve of them. Isn't this observation rather...basic? Obvious enough that it hardly bears mentioning? Why is there such difficulty absorbing
All this has been pointed out many times whenever a person professing a strict sexual morality does not live up to his own standards. Yet every time the scene repeats we read, not mere complaint or accusation but blood-drinking joy, as if some great moral victory has been won by the other side. So the logical argument is out there (often put far better than I have here), it remains unanswered, and the sniggering continues. Congressman Souder may indeed be a hypocrite and deserve exposure. But hypocrite has a specific meaning, of a person who pretends to a value he does not actually believe in - who privately doesn't believe the rule that he broke is true or very important. Or perhaps, believes that it is a good rule, but only for other people, not for oneself. That is not always the case when someone commits a sin. It certainly isn't true every time I commit a sin.
So I conclude that there is something that the critics just plain don't want to look at about themselves. The dish is on the buffet but they pass it by each time. Reason does not consist only in putting forth logical or mathematical premises and trying to draw conclusions. Come to think of it, that's not even the most important part. Self-examination to learn if one's views are driven by some reward - whether material, psychological, or social - is the more important part of Reason**. Because once we know there is some added benefit to saying X, we must search vigorously whether the benefit is causing us to bend our logic, however slightly, to come to a conclusion that will be gratifying to us.
Interesting that Ayn Rand's claim that altruism never exists because we always get something back for it should be so prominently illustrated among the Randians.
Aside from the high-school attitude in insult, there is something more subtle and dark. The jeers, as are prominent in Balko's post, suggest that the exposure of a hypocrite adds logical merit to one's own argument. If people only believed as we do, they wouldn't have all this problem. I think that came up a lot during the Catholic priest pedophilia scandals, as people pretended (and still pretend) that there is a greater incidence of this sin among priests, absent any data to support that claim.
*Balko also misrepresents the congressman's statements about drug laws - misrepresents them to the point of deceitfulness and even (gulp) dishonesty. But that's only a sidelight here.
**Because a person who realises that he has selfish motives in holding a certain opinion or advocating an action might refrain on that basis alone, even if he hadn't worked all the logical points out.
It appears that temptation has brought down another family values crusader. I blame gay marriage!Please read his whole post - it's short. The usual justification for such juvenile insults is that everyone loves to puncture hypocrisy. But the squirming pleasure that both libertarians and anti-conservatives get from these stories - a pleasure they do not seem to take when the subject isn't sex or much less often, drugs - suggests that something rather adolescent is in play.*
People who approve of drunk-driving laws sometimes drive when they have had too many, and still approve of such laws after they have been caught (In some instances, they approve of them more). Folks who stretch the truth usually still disapprove of lying. A man might steal something and still approve of personal property laws. Doctors who write scrips for off-label uses still approve of pharmaceutical regulation; lawyers sometimes break the law; Cowards may wish they had courage.
Presumably, one might approve greatly of reason, even naming a magazine or a website after it, yet still not be always logical.
St. Paul tells us to take every thought captive. Miss Manners teaches us that politeness, properly understood, is the foundation of civilization. Old proverbs tell us to say nothing if we can't say something nice, or to make our words sweet because we may have to eat them. I approve of all of these rules. I don't always follow them, but I approve of them. Isn't this observation rather...basic? Obvious enough that it hardly bears mentioning? Why is there such difficulty absorbing
All this has been pointed out many times whenever a person professing a strict sexual morality does not live up to his own standards. Yet every time the scene repeats we read, not mere complaint or accusation but blood-drinking joy, as if some great moral victory has been won by the other side. So the logical argument is out there (often put far better than I have here), it remains unanswered, and the sniggering continues. Congressman Souder may indeed be a hypocrite and deserve exposure. But hypocrite has a specific meaning, of a person who pretends to a value he does not actually believe in - who privately doesn't believe the rule that he broke is true or very important. Or perhaps, believes that it is a good rule, but only for other people, not for oneself. That is not always the case when someone commits a sin. It certainly isn't true every time I commit a sin.
So I conclude that there is something that the critics just plain don't want to look at about themselves. The dish is on the buffet but they pass it by each time. Reason does not consist only in putting forth logical or mathematical premises and trying to draw conclusions. Come to think of it, that's not even the most important part. Self-examination to learn if one's views are driven by some reward - whether material, psychological, or social - is the more important part of Reason**. Because once we know there is some added benefit to saying X, we must search vigorously whether the benefit is causing us to bend our logic, however slightly, to come to a conclusion that will be gratifying to us.
Interesting that Ayn Rand's claim that altruism never exists because we always get something back for it should be so prominently illustrated among the Randians.
Aside from the high-school attitude in insult, there is something more subtle and dark. The jeers, as are prominent in Balko's post, suggest that the exposure of a hypocrite adds logical merit to one's own argument. If people only believed as we do, they wouldn't have all this problem. I think that came up a lot during the Catholic priest pedophilia scandals, as people pretended (and still pretend) that there is a greater incidence of this sin among priests, absent any data to support that claim.
*Balko also misrepresents the congressman's statements about drug laws - misrepresents them to the point of deceitfulness and even (gulp) dishonesty. But that's only a sidelight here.
**Because a person who realises that he has selfish motives in holding a certain opinion or advocating an action might refrain on that basis alone, even if he hadn't worked all the logical points out.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Doubt: The Introduction. First Impressions
I mentioned receiving Jennifer Hecht's book Doubt from a friend. I have just started it, but already have puzzlement about it.
Jennifer Hecht brilliantly describes some aspects of the Great Schism between the meaningfulness and purposefulness of the world as we contemplate it from within our minds and the seeming meaninglessness of the universe when we sit farther back from ourselves and observe the actions of humans. If the universe is so meaningless, how do we come to have a concept of meaning at all? Yet if it is meaningful, why is its general pattern one of random, pointless events that do not correspond to our ideas of justice and meaning?
In describing the differences (and some similarities) between how nonbelievers and believers view the world, she seems spot on when describing the split in general. I found myself nodding "Yes. That's it exactly." Yet whenever she gets more specific about what Christians believe, I furrow my brow, and eventually shake my head. No, that's not quite it. That's not how we see things and describe them. It's something like, but there is some veering wide of the mark at the end. I doubt that I am expecting her to match my own idiosyncratic way of putting things; I was at adult Sunday School this morning, and so have the thinking of some Christians about these same questions quite fresh in my mind. (We are discussing such basic doctrines as the nature of God and the design of creation.) I don't think Hecht accurately describes what any one of us believes, nor any Christian I have read or met. There is a wall, an opacity which she can't see through. She will write that Jesus resolves the schism by teaching this, and gets it about half right, or that Augustine was beseiged by doubts in such-and-such a way, getting that half right.
This is not just because she might disagree with us. Ms. Hecht seems quite willing to bend over backwards to see things as the various groups do and present them as positively as she can. She constrasts the general monotheistic belief with rational materialism and other atheisms, with agnosticisms and Eastern perceptions. She tries to be genuinely fair, and I have little doubt that she would describe honestly if she could. This makes the book a little thrilling, as that is a courtesy that strongly opposing philosophies rarely extend to each other.
I will have a try at describing what she misses. Perhaps a clearer description will occur to me as I read further. She repeats several times that belief is a comforting state - a mistake nonbelievers often make. I don't know if this drives part of her understanding. To enter belief is to enter a more dangerous and puzzling world, not exit into a comfortable one. (That is not an argument for the truth of Christianity or any other belief, but is a mere description of what happens.) Second, she looks suspiciously likely to be seeing only the positives that result from doubt per se. That freedom from some doctrines has resulted in death, injustice, and poverty does not seem to occur to her. Like a parent watching her kid's soccer game, she sees only the fouls against, not fouls committed. That is very natural, but not very helpful.
But most importantly, she relates religion and experience of the trancendent to feeling or impression, with reason more properly applied to science and inquiry. I suspect she is moving in the direction of finding both necessary, or even marrying them in some way, but at the beginning, she clearly assigns these to two realms. I think this is unfair to both religion and science. The former may make more use of feeling and impression, the latter more use of reason, but neither is pure in that regard. Nor should they be.
The wall of non-perception that she comes up against is similar to the not-quite-getting-it that believers have about each other. Catholics understanding much but missing the point of Protestantism. Protestants perceiving and even admiring the beliefs of the Eastern Orthodox but still not fully grasping them. More strongly, I note this same not-grasping in Jewish understanding of Christians, and as well as I can understand it from the outside, Christian perceptions of Jewish beliefs. Hecht shows this same type of missing essential points, but at an even farther remove. It is not a misunderstanding because of hostility, it is just, well, misunderstanding.
It may be that there are things about belief (and even disbelief) that can only be understood from the inside, or in retrospect after belief is accepted or rejected.
I can't comment on whether she describes the types of nonbelief, and the experience of unbelief, accurately. She may descibe them better, or she may lose the thread with them as well.
Jennifer Hecht brilliantly describes some aspects of the Great Schism between the meaningfulness and purposefulness of the world as we contemplate it from within our minds and the seeming meaninglessness of the universe when we sit farther back from ourselves and observe the actions of humans. If the universe is so meaningless, how do we come to have a concept of meaning at all? Yet if it is meaningful, why is its general pattern one of random, pointless events that do not correspond to our ideas of justice and meaning?
The universe is more powerful than we, but when it comes to demonstration of sentience and will, we find ourselves in the the uncomfortable position of being the smartest, most powerful creatures around. There is no one to help us. Thus there is a rupture between daily life, in which individuals are rarely the highest authority, and the larger picture, the macro-reality of humankind, in which we as a group are the authority on everything.
In describing the differences (and some similarities) between how nonbelievers and believers view the world, she seems spot on when describing the split in general. I found myself nodding "Yes. That's it exactly." Yet whenever she gets more specific about what Christians believe, I furrow my brow, and eventually shake my head. No, that's not quite it. That's not how we see things and describe them. It's something like, but there is some veering wide of the mark at the end. I doubt that I am expecting her to match my own idiosyncratic way of putting things; I was at adult Sunday School this morning, and so have the thinking of some Christians about these same questions quite fresh in my mind. (We are discussing such basic doctrines as the nature of God and the design of creation.) I don't think Hecht accurately describes what any one of us believes, nor any Christian I have read or met. There is a wall, an opacity which she can't see through. She will write that Jesus resolves the schism by teaching this, and gets it about half right, or that Augustine was beseiged by doubts in such-and-such a way, getting that half right.
This is not just because she might disagree with us. Ms. Hecht seems quite willing to bend over backwards to see things as the various groups do and present them as positively as she can. She constrasts the general monotheistic belief with rational materialism and other atheisms, with agnosticisms and Eastern perceptions. She tries to be genuinely fair, and I have little doubt that she would describe honestly if she could. This makes the book a little thrilling, as that is a courtesy that strongly opposing philosophies rarely extend to each other.
I will have a try at describing what she misses. Perhaps a clearer description will occur to me as I read further. She repeats several times that belief is a comforting state - a mistake nonbelievers often make. I don't know if this drives part of her understanding. To enter belief is to enter a more dangerous and puzzling world, not exit into a comfortable one. (That is not an argument for the truth of Christianity or any other belief, but is a mere description of what happens.) Second, she looks suspiciously likely to be seeing only the positives that result from doubt per se. That freedom from some doctrines has resulted in death, injustice, and poverty does not seem to occur to her. Like a parent watching her kid's soccer game, she sees only the fouls against, not fouls committed. That is very natural, but not very helpful.
But most importantly, she relates religion and experience of the trancendent to feeling or impression, with reason more properly applied to science and inquiry. I suspect she is moving in the direction of finding both necessary, or even marrying them in some way, but at the beginning, she clearly assigns these to two realms. I think this is unfair to both religion and science. The former may make more use of feeling and impression, the latter more use of reason, but neither is pure in that regard. Nor should they be.
The wall of non-perception that she comes up against is similar to the not-quite-getting-it that believers have about each other. Catholics understanding much but missing the point of Protestantism. Protestants perceiving and even admiring the beliefs of the Eastern Orthodox but still not fully grasping them. More strongly, I note this same not-grasping in Jewish understanding of Christians, and as well as I can understand it from the outside, Christian perceptions of Jewish beliefs. Hecht shows this same type of missing essential points, but at an even farther remove. It is not a misunderstanding because of hostility, it is just, well, misunderstanding.
It may be that there are things about belief (and even disbelief) that can only be understood from the inside, or in retrospect after belief is accepted or rejected.
I can't comment on whether she describes the types of nonbelief, and the experience of unbelief, accurately. She may descibe them better, or she may lose the thread with them as well.
Nostalgia Is A Place
We think of nostalgia as a state, like reverie. But it should be capitalised, a proper name of a place, Nostalgia. It is created in our own minds, out of scraps of memory - events which were once real - so it is not a fictitious place. But neither is it entirely real.
We go to work and imagine home, and when we get home, it looks greatly like the place we imagined/remembered. At home, we remember work, or church, or a friend's home, and when we get to those places, they look much as we remembered/imagined. This tricks us into believing that other imaginings in memory really exist as well.
Yet Nostalgia is not quite a real place, not only because we can't go there, but also because the memories are unreliable. Recent brain research suggests that when we recall an event from 2005, we are not recalling 2005, but retrieving the last time we remembered the event, which may have been in 2009 or even only last week. There is considerable debate now whether a long-term memory is generally stable over time, or whether each time it is recalled makes it vulnerable to being changed. To make an analogy, a long-term memory is a solid object in the brain. But when we heat it up to reuse it, does it hold its shape and go back the way it was, or does the heating up make it moldable, changeable, flexible?
It is not a fully either-or debate. Even the neuroscientists who hold a strong view of memory persistence accept that subtle changes occur. And those who believe in extreme plasticity of memory note that some things do not seem to change, or not easily. The research seems to be pointing toweard more plasticity at present. When we heat up the memory, associated memories from earlier or especially later times seem to influence it.
Note: This may prove useful in treating traumatic memories, BTW. Chemically interfering with the memory-making process when a subject recalls the traumatic event seems to weaken the power, the emotional charge that the memory has. The events are recalled, but later bits of information - such as the knowledge that the abusive relationship is over, or we are not in a war zone anymore - get a chance to exert more influence on the memory. I do worry what the abuses of this memory-changing technique might be, however.
We have nostalgia for times and places that are now cut off from the whole. I do, at least. I have nostalgia for childhood places and friends. They connect to my current life only insofar as they affect me. I don't have much nostalgia for my children's early years. Those have a continuity with the present - later memories inform the recall of those earlier events. I have some nostalgia for places Tracy and I used to live, or for friends we no longer see. But any person or place that has maintained continuity doesn't live in Nostalgia. Not mine, anyway. When I go there, they are not residents - they are visitors like me if they are there at all.
Thus, I have some nostalgia for Romania and Budapest, which are in my recent history, but little for Chris and J-A ten years ago, and less still for my two older shildren ten years before that. They occupy space in the present. All memory of them then is but a piece of now.
Nostalgia is rather an island, then. Or a place accessible only by ghost trains or overgrown trails - rather like the traveling through the crack in time in WP Kinsella's The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. (Recommended, BTW.)
We go to work and imagine home, and when we get home, it looks greatly like the place we imagined/remembered. At home, we remember work, or church, or a friend's home, and when we get to those places, they look much as we remembered/imagined. This tricks us into believing that other imaginings in memory really exist as well.
Yet Nostalgia is not quite a real place, not only because we can't go there, but also because the memories are unreliable. Recent brain research suggests that when we recall an event from 2005, we are not recalling 2005, but retrieving the last time we remembered the event, which may have been in 2009 or even only last week. There is considerable debate now whether a long-term memory is generally stable over time, or whether each time it is recalled makes it vulnerable to being changed. To make an analogy, a long-term memory is a solid object in the brain. But when we heat it up to reuse it, does it hold its shape and go back the way it was, or does the heating up make it moldable, changeable, flexible?
It is not a fully either-or debate. Even the neuroscientists who hold a strong view of memory persistence accept that subtle changes occur. And those who believe in extreme plasticity of memory note that some things do not seem to change, or not easily. The research seems to be pointing toweard more plasticity at present. When we heat up the memory, associated memories from earlier or especially later times seem to influence it.
Note: This may prove useful in treating traumatic memories, BTW. Chemically interfering with the memory-making process when a subject recalls the traumatic event seems to weaken the power, the emotional charge that the memory has. The events are recalled, but later bits of information - such as the knowledge that the abusive relationship is over, or we are not in a war zone anymore - get a chance to exert more influence on the memory. I do worry what the abuses of this memory-changing technique might be, however.
We have nostalgia for times and places that are now cut off from the whole. I do, at least. I have nostalgia for childhood places and friends. They connect to my current life only insofar as they affect me. I don't have much nostalgia for my children's early years. Those have a continuity with the present - later memories inform the recall of those earlier events. I have some nostalgia for places Tracy and I used to live, or for friends we no longer see. But any person or place that has maintained continuity doesn't live in Nostalgia. Not mine, anyway. When I go there, they are not residents - they are visitors like me if they are there at all.
Thus, I have some nostalgia for Romania and Budapest, which are in my recent history, but little for Chris and J-A ten years ago, and less still for my two older shildren ten years before that. They occupy space in the present. All memory of them then is but a piece of now.
Nostalgia is rather an island, then. Or a place accessible only by ghost trains or overgrown trails - rather like the traveling through the crack in time in WP Kinsella's The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. (Recommended, BTW.)
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ingratitude
I have mentioned in many contexts that the more you give someone, the less grateful they are. Though such things have political implications, I am more concerned with the individual effects. Also, I am not merely concerned with the spiritual and emotional effects on those ungrateful wretches who would be easy targets, but on decent people who don't ask for much, generally provide for themselves, but are recipients of generosity from time to time. Me, for example.
It is hard to receive without feeling one-down, just as it is hard to give without feeling one-up. Ingratitude may be a signal that we have taken something as well as given something. In fact, the receiver may unknowingly consider what he has lost - a sense of self-efficacy - more precious than whatever object he has gained.
People who receive all the time usually find that sense of being "lesser" to be intolerable. (Each side of the charitable transaction can find themselves poisoned no matter how innocent the intent on the other side.) They seek rationalizations and resentments - whether to elevate themselves as deserving in some way, or to denigrate the other as a flawed person who is obliged to be generous.
When someone is generous, it is easy for all observers to just slide into the assumption that they had the money "to spare." How could they give it if it weren't spare, eh? Even if it's their last dollar, our learned and automatic response to observed giving is so strong that we rapidly pop them back into the category of those who have "extra." To then see them as fortunate, or lucky, or undeserving is not such a far slide from there. They have extra. I don't have enough. Life's not fair. It's a short step from there to I deserve at least some of what they have. They are supposed to give it up.
Many of my readers are political types, and will find the social implications of this screaming at them. Fine, but I ask you to drop that for the moment. We're not talking about those others, remember. We're talking about me. And likely you as well.
Before we even get to the difficult gratitude to God (who is abundantly wealthy, so why don't I have more?), we receive from a hundred people a day who we don't even think of gratitude toward: a clerk living in personal tragedy who mustered politeness and even forebearance toward us; a driver who adjusted to our carelessness or entitlement; a family member who declined to argue, even though we were in the wrong. And aren't we just entitled to no traffic jams or construction, and restaurants to be open when we want them to be?
I haven't done anything to earn my air or water. And as much as that should bother me and spur gratitude in me, it doesn't. I feel a complete entitlement to a thousand things. That's how far down we can go in 57 years. Why do we expect God to give us long lives, again? Were we planning on improving that much in the next decades?
It is hard to receive without feeling one-down, just as it is hard to give without feeling one-up. Ingratitude may be a signal that we have taken something as well as given something. In fact, the receiver may unknowingly consider what he has lost - a sense of self-efficacy - more precious than whatever object he has gained.
People who receive all the time usually find that sense of being "lesser" to be intolerable. (Each side of the charitable transaction can find themselves poisoned no matter how innocent the intent on the other side.) They seek rationalizations and resentments - whether to elevate themselves as deserving in some way, or to denigrate the other as a flawed person who is obliged to be generous.
When someone is generous, it is easy for all observers to just slide into the assumption that they had the money "to spare." How could they give it if it weren't spare, eh? Even if it's their last dollar, our learned and automatic response to observed giving is so strong that we rapidly pop them back into the category of those who have "extra." To then see them as fortunate, or lucky, or undeserving is not such a far slide from there. They have extra. I don't have enough. Life's not fair. It's a short step from there to I deserve at least some of what they have. They are supposed to give it up.
Many of my readers are political types, and will find the social implications of this screaming at them. Fine, but I ask you to drop that for the moment. We're not talking about those others, remember. We're talking about me. And likely you as well.
Before we even get to the difficult gratitude to God (who is abundantly wealthy, so why don't I have more?), we receive from a hundred people a day who we don't even think of gratitude toward: a clerk living in personal tragedy who mustered politeness and even forebearance toward us; a driver who adjusted to our carelessness or entitlement; a family member who declined to argue, even though we were in the wrong. And aren't we just entitled to no traffic jams or construction, and restaurants to be open when we want them to be?
I haven't done anything to earn my air or water. And as much as that should bother me and spur gratitude in me, it doesn't. I feel a complete entitlement to a thousand things. That's how far down we can go in 57 years. Why do we expect God to give us long lives, again? Were we planning on improving that much in the next decades?
Friday, May 14, 2010
Technically, It's Not Illegal to be Illegal...
...in Massachusetts. A quote by non-Senator Martha Coakley that has just become important again.
It rather puts me in mind of Miracle Max in "The Princess Bride."
It rather puts me in mind of Miracle Max in "The Princess Bride."
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Celtics to the Conference Finals
I fear Orlando more than the Cavs.
Okay, well that's obvious now that the Cavs are eliminated, but you get my thought here. I fear Orlando more than whoever comes out of the West, too.
There are plenty of folks who will tell you that the Celtics match up well with Orlando, containing and diminishing the Magic's strengths. They'd better.
Okay, well that's obvious now that the Cavs are eliminated, but you get my thought here. I fear Orlando more than whoever comes out of the West, too.
There are plenty of folks who will tell you that the Celtics match up well with Orlando, containing and diminishing the Magic's strengths. They'd better.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tomorrow, a Rant
Just what you've been waiting for, I'm sure.
Update: It's tomorrow.
With NH state budget crises continuing another highly-placed individual used one of my least favorite metaphors yesterday, the state budget as family budget. Conservatives may use it as often as liberals, and I don't like it either way.
Usually, these highly-placed individuals are content to stroke their chins and make coded references to "looking at the revenue side of things." By which they mean a broad-based task. But sometimes they go full out and feel obliged to explain that if a family can't make ends meet, sometimes cutting their personal budgets just isn't enough. What they need is to make more money. From the family side of the analogy, that's sensible enough. Here's the problem from the government side.
The government is not the parent in this family. The government is one of the teenage children we hire to do some work around the place (and if you keep screwing up, we'll give the job to your younger sister, even if she doesn't (yet) know how to start the lawnmower). The citizens are the parents, not you. This is the center of what you don't get - and neither does more than 50% of the electorate. You are not the parents.
The citizens in the NH family may be bad parents. We may even be very bad parents. I grant that possibility, and some days even agree with it. But I also know that teenagers are likely to believe their parents are doing things wrong, and even have lists of examples why they are, when the parents in question are doing reasonably well. The teenager's opinion is interesting, but not decisive.
Also, the teenager is sometimes right. There are bad parents with wonderful children. Happens all the time. But the teenager is seldom a good judge of that.
Teenagers have great ideas about all the good stuff the family should buy. They are in fact often authorities on that subject. Sometimes they are even right. But that's not enough to get to be the parent, and decide that somebody else (mom or dad) needs to work more hours.
We citizens need the reminder also. We have to be the parents, or the children will take over and rule the household. It's just reality, a law of nature. Power vacuum and all that. Citizens also have to be willing to step up and be parents, even under criticism and challenge.
Elected officials are teenaged children we hire to do work around the house. Hold that thought.
Update: It's tomorrow.
With NH state budget crises continuing another highly-placed individual used one of my least favorite metaphors yesterday, the state budget as family budget. Conservatives may use it as often as liberals, and I don't like it either way.
Usually, these highly-placed individuals are content to stroke their chins and make coded references to "looking at the revenue side of things." By which they mean a broad-based task. But sometimes they go full out and feel obliged to explain that if a family can't make ends meet, sometimes cutting their personal budgets just isn't enough. What they need is to make more money. From the family side of the analogy, that's sensible enough. Here's the problem from the government side.
The government is not the parent in this family. The government is one of the teenage children we hire to do some work around the place (and if you keep screwing up, we'll give the job to your younger sister, even if she doesn't (yet) know how to start the lawnmower). The citizens are the parents, not you. This is the center of what you don't get - and neither does more than 50% of the electorate. You are not the parents.
The citizens in the NH family may be bad parents. We may even be very bad parents. I grant that possibility, and some days even agree with it. But I also know that teenagers are likely to believe their parents are doing things wrong, and even have lists of examples why they are, when the parents in question are doing reasonably well. The teenager's opinion is interesting, but not decisive.
Also, the teenager is sometimes right. There are bad parents with wonderful children. Happens all the time. But the teenager is seldom a good judge of that.
Teenagers have great ideas about all the good stuff the family should buy. They are in fact often authorities on that subject. Sometimes they are even right. But that's not enough to get to be the parent, and decide that somebody else (mom or dad) needs to work more hours.
We citizens need the reminder also. We have to be the parents, or the children will take over and rule the household. It's just reality, a law of nature. Power vacuum and all that. Citizens also have to be willing to step up and be parents, even under criticism and challenge.
Elected officials are teenaged children we hire to do work around the house. Hold that thought.
Not Even Looking
As usual, this fuzzy-minded rubbish shows up not because I was looking for particularly bad examples of church-leftist thinking, but just on my way to something else. Postliberals don't have to go looking for this idiocy, it's just there, around every corner. This particular essay by Simon Beard over at ekklesia (A new way of thinking! What a tag line) is especially fun. It plays to several of my favorite soapboxes all in one short essay. Go on over, read it. I dare ya.
I know nothing of the legislation in question - heck, I might even agree with the author if I read it closely, though I doubt it. It is the style of argument, emotional and social that pretends to be intellectual, that is so typical.
Fun with Gladstone. Beard quotes his famous
Next, we have fun with hymnody. I was Binging "How Can I Keep From Singing" and Mr. Beard's essay was one of the early hits, which is how I got there at all. He quotes the hymn at the end of his essay, wrongly identifying it as an early Quaker hymn. That's a small error, as a lot of folks think that. It is actually an American Baptist Hymn from the 19th C. Beard quotes the third verse, trying to provide as much religious cover and moral self-congratulation to his side. The second irony: The third verse isn't original to the song - it was added in later and sung by Pete Seeger, who removed much of the Christian content from the other verses when he performed it. It was a big 60's hippie-folk song about defying tyrants (hehehe).
Thus Beard unwittingly provides evidence for my contention that the real religion of church liberals is 60's leftism. Okay, some liberals. Simon spends much of the rest of the essay telling us how hateful the people not supporting the bill are, how small-minded and evil, while describing the supporters as lovers of equality. He quotes Jesus preaching freedom, without making the case that his view is anything similar. He then quotes Mary about scattering the proud, leaving the reader to assume that it is not Simon and his pals, but their opponents, who are the proud. No evidence for this, just the usual sneaky way of saying "Jesus is on my side," though they would find that a blasphemous claim from their opponents.
The usual.
* I grant that these descriptions are over-simple.
So here's Enya with the song in question, including the more-political verse I don't like. And who knows, maybe the figures in the video reveal her politics to be opposite to mine. No matter, I can make the adjustment. Beautiful song.
I know nothing of the legislation in question - heck, I might even agree with the author if I read it closely, though I doubt it. It is the style of argument, emotional and social that pretends to be intellectual, that is so typical.
Fun with Gladstone. Beard quotes his famous
liberalism is trust in people tempered by prudence, conservatism is distrust of people tempered by fear.The irony: In the context of mid 19th C England, the meanings of conservative and liberal are almost exactly reversed from their meaning today. Gladstone was a classical liberal who hated socialism, quite a different item from the left-liberal of today. And 19th C British conservatives tended strongly to aristocratic rule and monarchism* - rather the opposite of Tea Partyism and conservatives complaining about elites forcing their views on an unwilling majority today. Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher both cite Gladstone as a major influence in their own thought, and William would be quite at home in the Conservative Party today. Apparently the Conservatives of his era thought so too, bolting en masse for the Liberal Party in 1922.
Next, we have fun with hymnody. I was Binging "How Can I Keep From Singing" and Mr. Beard's essay was one of the early hits, which is how I got there at all. He quotes the hymn at the end of his essay, wrongly identifying it as an early Quaker hymn. That's a small error, as a lot of folks think that. It is actually an American Baptist Hymn from the 19th C. Beard quotes the third verse, trying to provide as much religious cover and moral self-congratulation to his side. The second irony: The third verse isn't original to the song - it was added in later and sung by Pete Seeger, who removed much of the Christian content from the other verses when he performed it. It was a big 60's hippie-folk song about defying tyrants (hehehe).
Thus Beard unwittingly provides evidence for my contention that the real religion of church liberals is 60's leftism. Okay, some liberals. Simon spends much of the rest of the essay telling us how hateful the people not supporting the bill are, how small-minded and evil, while describing the supporters as lovers of equality. He quotes Jesus preaching freedom, without making the case that his view is anything similar. He then quotes Mary about scattering the proud, leaving the reader to assume that it is not Simon and his pals, but their opponents, who are the proud. No evidence for this, just the usual sneaky way of saying "Jesus is on my side," though they would find that a blasphemous claim from their opponents.
The usual.
* I grant that these descriptions are over-simple.
So here's Enya with the song in question, including the more-political verse I don't like. And who knows, maybe the figures in the video reveal her politics to be opposite to mine. No matter, I can make the adjustment. Beautiful song.
Sunday's Coming
Via the Out of Ur website at Christianity Today International. Passed along by akafred.
To be fair, the comments were kinder, though still finding it funny. My contribution there:
"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.
To be fair, the comments were kinder, though still finding it funny. My contribution there:
Excellent comments keeping the criticism in perspective. Yes, it's a liturgy among those who would be horrified to think they have one - rather like everyone wearing blue jeans everywhere in my era to show they were unconventional. But this also can be done well. If it is no less "packaged" than traditional or liturgical worship, neither is it more packaged. It can be shallow, but assuming that it must be shallow because it is not our preferred personal style is a weak argument.
Noel Paul Stookey - "Peace In The Valley"
So if you meet a man in a pastel suit
With an alligator Bible to match his boots
You might not like his style too much
But if he could reach a soul you could never touch
You gotta say...
Peace in the Valley
Peace on the mountain too
Before you tell a man he's got a splinter in his eye
You better pull the log out of
Pull the log out of
Pull the log out of you.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Politicians and Sports
This will go from light News of the Day to something more serious.
Mayor Menino screwed up his speech for the dedication of the Bobby Orr statue. He used the word ionic instead of iconic, and he mistakenly attributed “splitting the uprights” to Varitek, a baseball player, rather than Vinatieri, a football player. Boston sports fans are more likely to hound him for the latter, but I give him half a pass on that. Word-storage is a funny thing, and V-ethnic substituting for V-ethnic could just be a slip of the mind. Jason Varitek has certainly been mentioned more often than Adam Vinatieri over the last few years. Yes, he should be more careful about his sports info when he is speaking at a sports function. Either he was speaking off-the-cuff, seldom a wise choice; or he read his cue-card wrongly, not an encouraging sign; or the speechwriter he hired screwed up, also not good. Yet it’s only dumb, not monumentally stupid.
I take that back. As I wrote out my reasons why he might have mistakenly said Varitek instead of Vinatieri, I concluded it’s worse than mere slippage.
Ionic may be closer to monumentally stupid. It is, I grant, at least a real word. But missing iconic shows that he doesn’t really know the word. It’s not a readily hearable mispronunciation, a regionalism, or even a frequent mistake, as irregardless would be. The mayor might be able to get the meaning of iconic right on a test, when he had time to think about it, but it is clearly not in his usual vocabulary. Don’t use it, Mayor Malaprop.
My usual sports talk show verged on important knowledge this morning, then veered away from it. They noted the mistakes and immediately related it to other sports bloopers by politicians: Teddy Kennedy saying “Mike Maguire and Sammy Sue-ser*” and Congressman Chris Shays saying “Rafael Palmeiri getting his 300th hit.” They wondered if these politicians, who don’t know that much about sports but hold hearings on steroids and otherwise regulate the industry, might also not know much about the other things they pass legislation on. They stayed on this for a few minutes, bringing up personal incidents of watching C-Span and suddenly realising that the speaker didn’t actually know much about the topic at hand, but was pontificating anyway.
They almost got it. In the end, they shrugged it off, saying that sports isn’t all that important at the end of the day. It doesn’t really matter if they don’t understand it. They saw it as an unfortunate oddity, not part of a trend.
Yet it is part of a trend. I recently noted how little state legislators know about mental health. The recent hearings with Goldman Sachs revealed that Senators don’t understand that industry. Few of them understand much science. Sometimes they can’t do simple arithmetic. They don’t understand much about war. Or health care.
Well, what do they know? They know lots of important information about getting elected: what emote-words voters want to hear, what the party breakdown is in various regions, what types of advertising are most effective, what issues are currently hot, whose hands need to be shaken, how to raise money. As many of them are lawyers, they also know legal terminology pretty well. Some don’t have much beyond that in knowledge of the law, but there are a fair number who actually do understand it. They know how their own legislative bodies work, who is responsible for what, and something of who the key people are.
That’s about it. You can’t count on elected officials at any level actually knowing more than that. Getting sports names and facts wrong is not an interesting oddity – it is a window into the rest of their knowledge. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing something about a subject. There is something very wrong about pretending to know a subject when you don’t, and then asserting legislative power over it.
Our recent presidents, notably, have all had sports knowledge (except for Jimmy Carter). Obama and Nixon have probably had the most extensive knowledge. Perhaps it is important to the general image of a presidential candidate, which we examine in more detail than we do senators or mayors.
Related: Bill James wrote in amazement about David Halberstam’s Summer of ’49 that the famed journalist, on whom we had relied for much of our political reporting, had gotten so many important facts wrong in the book. Worse, these were facts that would be relatively easy to have researched, and seemed in the service of a particular narrative about manager Joe McCarthy. Perhaps, James wondered, this was an unimportant complaint against an important writer who was having a bit of a lark with a sports book. But what if Halberstam had shown a similar sloppiness in his other books – about Vietnam, about the Kennedys – which had been so influential? It turns out, in fact, that this is exactly the criticism of Halberstam by serious historians – that he served up misleading and even false information in the service of a political agenda.
Update: Vince Masi of ESPN add the following: "So who puts the bug in candidates' ears about seeming what they are not? John Kerry last week professed to be a big fan of 'Manny Ortez,' then re-emphasized the phoofery by correcting it to 'David Ortez.' No, that was Dave (Baby) Cortez and 'The Happy Organ.' A few years back Kerry went on a Boston station with Eddie Andelman and said 'my favorite Red Sox player of all time is The Walking Man, Eddie Yost,' who never played for the Red Sox.
*Kennedy gets a pass on the second syllable because that’s just his accent. The first syllable, not so much.
Mayor Menino screwed up his speech for the dedication of the Bobby Orr statue. He used the word ionic instead of iconic, and he mistakenly attributed “splitting the uprights” to Varitek, a baseball player, rather than Vinatieri, a football player. Boston sports fans are more likely to hound him for the latter, but I give him half a pass on that. Word-storage is a funny thing, and V-ethnic substituting for V-ethnic could just be a slip of the mind. Jason Varitek has certainly been mentioned more often than Adam Vinatieri over the last few years. Yes, he should be more careful about his sports info when he is speaking at a sports function. Either he was speaking off-the-cuff, seldom a wise choice; or he read his cue-card wrongly, not an encouraging sign; or the speechwriter he hired screwed up, also not good. Yet it’s only dumb, not monumentally stupid.
I take that back. As I wrote out my reasons why he might have mistakenly said Varitek instead of Vinatieri, I concluded it’s worse than mere slippage.
Ionic may be closer to monumentally stupid. It is, I grant, at least a real word. But missing iconic shows that he doesn’t really know the word. It’s not a readily hearable mispronunciation, a regionalism, or even a frequent mistake, as irregardless would be. The mayor might be able to get the meaning of iconic right on a test, when he had time to think about it, but it is clearly not in his usual vocabulary. Don’t use it, Mayor Malaprop.
My usual sports talk show verged on important knowledge this morning, then veered away from it. They noted the mistakes and immediately related it to other sports bloopers by politicians: Teddy Kennedy saying “Mike Maguire and Sammy Sue-ser*” and Congressman Chris Shays saying “Rafael Palmeiri getting his 300th hit.” They wondered if these politicians, who don’t know that much about sports but hold hearings on steroids and otherwise regulate the industry, might also not know much about the other things they pass legislation on. They stayed on this for a few minutes, bringing up personal incidents of watching C-Span and suddenly realising that the speaker didn’t actually know much about the topic at hand, but was pontificating anyway.
They almost got it. In the end, they shrugged it off, saying that sports isn’t all that important at the end of the day. It doesn’t really matter if they don’t understand it. They saw it as an unfortunate oddity, not part of a trend.
Yet it is part of a trend. I recently noted how little state legislators know about mental health. The recent hearings with Goldman Sachs revealed that Senators don’t understand that industry. Few of them understand much science. Sometimes they can’t do simple arithmetic. They don’t understand much about war. Or health care.
Well, what do they know? They know lots of important information about getting elected: what emote-words voters want to hear, what the party breakdown is in various regions, what types of advertising are most effective, what issues are currently hot, whose hands need to be shaken, how to raise money. As many of them are lawyers, they also know legal terminology pretty well. Some don’t have much beyond that in knowledge of the law, but there are a fair number who actually do understand it. They know how their own legislative bodies work, who is responsible for what, and something of who the key people are.
That’s about it. You can’t count on elected officials at any level actually knowing more than that. Getting sports names and facts wrong is not an interesting oddity – it is a window into the rest of their knowledge. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing something about a subject. There is something very wrong about pretending to know a subject when you don’t, and then asserting legislative power over it.
Our recent presidents, notably, have all had sports knowledge (except for Jimmy Carter). Obama and Nixon have probably had the most extensive knowledge. Perhaps it is important to the general image of a presidential candidate, which we examine in more detail than we do senators or mayors.
Related: Bill James wrote in amazement about David Halberstam’s Summer of ’49 that the famed journalist, on whom we had relied for much of our political reporting, had gotten so many important facts wrong in the book. Worse, these were facts that would be relatively easy to have researched, and seemed in the service of a particular narrative about manager Joe McCarthy. Perhaps, James wondered, this was an unimportant complaint against an important writer who was having a bit of a lark with a sports book. But what if Halberstam had shown a similar sloppiness in his other books – about Vietnam, about the Kennedys – which had been so influential? It turns out, in fact, that this is exactly the criticism of Halberstam by serious historians – that he served up misleading and even false information in the service of a political agenda.
Update: Vince Masi of ESPN add the following: "So who puts the bug in candidates' ears about seeming what they are not? John Kerry last week professed to be a big fan of 'Manny Ortez,' then re-emphasized the phoofery by correcting it to 'David Ortez.' No, that was Dave (Baby) Cortez and 'The Happy Organ.' A few years back Kerry went on a Boston station with Eddie Andelman and said 'my favorite Red Sox player of all time is The Walking Man, Eddie Yost,' who never played for the Red Sox.
*Kennedy gets a pass on the second syllable because that’s just his accent. The first syllable, not so much.
Monday, May 10, 2010
What Is Love?
Michael Novack's No One Sees God, which I referenced earlier, has an intriguing section about some of the great saints who had less and less direct experience of God as their lives unfolded. Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross is mentioned, as are St. Theresa and her namesake Mother Teresa. He makes reference to "revelation by subtraction," where God reveals Himself by stripping away illusions.
Two things about this. One, I've missed the boat on this. I know exactly what he is talking about, and see that those more committed than I have striven to know God more fully by this teaching. I just eventually gave that up and said "Well, prophet ecstacies (what's the reference?) are not going to be on the menu for me, I guess. Oh well. Carry on, then." I'm regirding to change that, BTW.
Two, I was immediately struck by how thoroughly unconvincing that would be to an atheist. That was the context Novack placed the discussion in, trying to show a similarity between the internal lives of some saints and some nonbelievers. I think he is correct, and I think it possibly profound, but I imagined myself as a skeptical hearer encountering this argument. "Well, that's a poor evasion. All that's happening is that you're seeing nothing, but you're calling it something. Worse, you're calling it something special. It's all rubbish." I didn't have a quick answer to that at the time.
One came up tonight in another context. A young woman from our church who comes down to see Tracy because she's arguing with her parents all the time was describing staying over at her (relatively new) boyfriend's house. (Sidebar for the curious. She insists, taking some offense, that nothing is "happening" during these times. And we believe her. For now. She doesn't accept our cautioning that this unstable and tempting situation will not go on indefinitely. The same conversation that adults have had with 18 year-olds for a thousand generations.) Within this discussion of the new boyfriend - who is sooo cute - and how they never fight, and her friends say they act like they've been together for a long time, and, and, all the other things that 18 year-olds have been saying to adults for a thousand generations - in that context, she asked my wife "What is love?"
So Tracy, after giving her own answer, calls out to me to come in and answer the girl's question. Keep in mind that we're not giving this answer to a thoughtful, abstract thinker. She's friendly enough, and nice enough, but a little ditzy. Let that frame any answer you attempt in the comments.
It's easy to generate Hallmark answers, or those saccharine Love Is... cartoons. "Being married to your best friend." The sentiments of the latter aren't especially bad, but those little kids make me retch. But in such a situation, you want to generate a pretty decent answer, even if it is off the top of your head. Love is being nice to each other when the children are throwing up. No, that's not what I want. It does get across the idea that it is only associated with the sensation of being in love. But I really wanted to drive that idea home in this particular instance. Love is what happens after three years (or eighteen months, or six months, or whatever the duration of the body experience of "being in love" is).
I admit, that's still got quite a bit of Hallmark in it. It's easy to say things like that - cute phrases that pretend to be profound. But it hit me just a few minutes later: that's the revelation by subtraction that Novack was referring to - and an experience that many nonbelievers could instantly see the truth of.
Two things about this. One, I've missed the boat on this. I know exactly what he is talking about, and see that those more committed than I have striven to know God more fully by this teaching. I just eventually gave that up and said "Well, prophet ecstacies (what's the reference?) are not going to be on the menu for me, I guess. Oh well. Carry on, then." I'm regirding to change that, BTW.
Two, I was immediately struck by how thoroughly unconvincing that would be to an atheist. That was the context Novack placed the discussion in, trying to show a similarity between the internal lives of some saints and some nonbelievers. I think he is correct, and I think it possibly profound, but I imagined myself as a skeptical hearer encountering this argument. "Well, that's a poor evasion. All that's happening is that you're seeing nothing, but you're calling it something. Worse, you're calling it something special. It's all rubbish." I didn't have a quick answer to that at the time.
One came up tonight in another context. A young woman from our church who comes down to see Tracy because she's arguing with her parents all the time was describing staying over at her (relatively new) boyfriend's house. (Sidebar for the curious. She insists, taking some offense, that nothing is "happening" during these times. And we believe her. For now. She doesn't accept our cautioning that this unstable and tempting situation will not go on indefinitely. The same conversation that adults have had with 18 year-olds for a thousand generations.) Within this discussion of the new boyfriend - who is sooo cute - and how they never fight, and her friends say they act like they've been together for a long time, and, and, all the other things that 18 year-olds have been saying to adults for a thousand generations - in that context, she asked my wife "What is love?"
So Tracy, after giving her own answer, calls out to me to come in and answer the girl's question. Keep in mind that we're not giving this answer to a thoughtful, abstract thinker. She's friendly enough, and nice enough, but a little ditzy. Let that frame any answer you attempt in the comments.
It's easy to generate Hallmark answers, or those saccharine Love Is... cartoons. "Being married to your best friend." The sentiments of the latter aren't especially bad, but those little kids make me retch. But in such a situation, you want to generate a pretty decent answer, even if it is off the top of your head. Love is being nice to each other when the children are throwing up. No, that's not what I want. It does get across the idea that it is only associated with the sensation of being in love. But I really wanted to drive that idea home in this particular instance. Love is what happens after three years (or eighteen months, or six months, or whatever the duration of the body experience of "being in love" is).
I admit, that's still got quite a bit of Hallmark in it. It's easy to say things like that - cute phrases that pretend to be profound. But it hit me just a few minutes later: that's the revelation by subtraction that Novack was referring to - and an experience that many nonbelievers could instantly see the truth of.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
QOTD
Charles Austin, who has a blog of his own, Sine Qua Non Pundit, commenting at Protein Wisdom
I find that many progressives like to sneer at those who believe in angels and demons, while blithely overlooking their own belief in Santa Claus.
More ABBA
I may have linked to them singing this song before, but I know I have never seen these costumes. I would have remembered that.
These posts are becoming less and less ironic. I'm starting to like ABBA. Now I know why double agents have a hard time knowing exactly what side they're on. You tend to become what you pretend to be.
These posts are becoming less and less ironic. I'm starting to like ABBA. Now I know why double agents have a hard time knowing exactly what side they're on. You tend to become what you pretend to be.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
On Being the Assistant Village Idiot
Every writer has an audience in mind, however vaguely. Mine has changed a bit over four and one-half years.
I believe, though I may misremember, that my intended audience when I started this blog were (in order) my two older sons; our Bible study, church friends, and their children; my wife (who was lower on the list because she generally heard my opinions anyway); lastly, some other bloggers. Hmm... some vague idea of posterity, or the national conversation, or seekers after truth comes into conception of "audience" as well. I'm not sure who they are, really.
My sons were not at home but still youngish, and I was concerned about legacy - yet you can't just call every night and say "you know what I've been thinking, and what article you should read?" Friends get pretty tired of that, also.
It occurred to me writing the last post, which referenced them and caused me to think about the trajectory of their lives, that I no longer have them in the back of my mind as the primary audience anymore. They are in the mix, but they are quite fully formed at this point, and I no longer have even a vestigial drive to form and shape them. Influence, yes, but I pretty much do that with everyone. Very few of my Bible study and church friends ever read AVI much - less than 10%, I'd say. Maybe less than 5%.
My own commenters and the small circle of other sites that are my online network are who I think of now. That includes the son, wife, and church categories, but I am as likely to think of terri or carl or gringo while composing now. And I am still often choosing my words carefully in case some of my more challenging commenters drop by again.
I believe, though I may misremember, that my intended audience when I started this blog were (in order) my two older sons; our Bible study, church friends, and their children; my wife (who was lower on the list because she generally heard my opinions anyway); lastly, some other bloggers. Hmm... some vague idea of posterity, or the national conversation, or seekers after truth comes into conception of "audience" as well. I'm not sure who they are, really.
My sons were not at home but still youngish, and I was concerned about legacy - yet you can't just call every night and say "you know what I've been thinking, and what article you should read?" Friends get pretty tired of that, also.
It occurred to me writing the last post, which referenced them and caused me to think about the trajectory of their lives, that I no longer have them in the back of my mind as the primary audience anymore. They are in the mix, but they are quite fully formed at this point, and I no longer have even a vestigial drive to form and shape them. Influence, yes, but I pretty much do that with everyone. Very few of my Bible study and church friends ever read AVI much - less than 10%, I'd say. Maybe less than 5%.
My own commenters and the small circle of other sites that are my online network are who I think of now. That includes the son, wife, and church categories, but I am as likely to think of terri or carl or gringo while composing now. And I am still often choosing my words carefully in case some of my more challenging commenters drop by again.
Testing Doesn't Measure Schools
Last week, American Enterprise Institute carried Charles Murray's Why Charter Schools Fail The Test.
But it was not academic superiority that was the driver in this, though the Christian schools exceeded the local public offerings in most ways. While there was some chance they would not have thriven in a different environment, it is likely they would have done just as well. Nor was I worried about their being exposed to the teaching of evolution; rampant liberalism maybe, but evolution would have been a slight positive. And, when all is counted, you are going to have to undo some of the school's teaching of your child wherever they go. We decided we'd rather fight some battles than others.
Being in an environment that was unapologetic about its devotion to Christianity, Western Civilization, and writing proficiency were important. We think the emotional support they received was somewhat better. We think smaller schools in general are a better environment. We hoped to load the dice a bit on choice of friends.
But from earliest years we said quite openly that educating our children was our responsibility, not the school's, and acted on that. This sometimes annoyed them when we would have higher expectations than the teacher on what was an acceptable paper or project. (You can still get Ben to shake his head about his New Hampshire History project in 4th grade. Even at the time he would say "It's already an A+! There is no A+++!" But Tracy has taught NH History for two decades, and his project was going to be the most thorough in the annals of NH education. And it was, too.) The two Romanians in particular saw this as bizarre.
I would not say out loud what I then knew to be true but was even less acceptable in conversation in the 80's and 90's: that genetic inheritance was the dominant factor anyway.
Murray remains a charter school advocate, but doesn't think tests of individual students are a good measure of schools. He has been saying this for some time with few people listening, so he hopes the recent studies provide a teachable moment for educators of all ideological leanings.
The latest evaluation of the Milwaukee Parental Choice Program, the oldest and most extensive system of vouchers and charter schools in America, came out last month, and most advocates of school choice were disheartened by the results.
So let's not try to explain them away. Why not instead finally acknowledge that standardized test scores are a terrible way to decide whether one school is better than another? This is true whether the reform in question is vouchers, charter schools, increased school accountability, smaller class sizes, better pay for all teachers, bonuses for good teachers, firing of bad teachers--measured by changes in test scores, each has failed to live up to its hype.We like to think that schools are one of the dominant features of the education of society's children. Perhaps this is because we spend so much money on it, or they spend so much time there, or it's one of the few things people have in common. We spent lots of money to send our kids to private Christian schools, and I don't regret a dime of it. Okay, maybe a few bucks of it.
It should come as no surprise. We've known since the landmark Coleman Report of 1966, which was based on a study of more than 570,000 American students, that the measurable differences in schools explain little about differences in test scores. The reason for the perpetual disappointment is simple: Schools control only a small part of what goes into test scores.
Cognitive ability, personality and motivation come mostly from home. What happens in the classroom can have some effect, but smart and motivated children will tend to learn to read and do math even with poor instruction, while not-so-smart or unmotivated children will often have trouble with those subjects despite excellent instruction. If test scores in reading and math are the measure, a good school just doesn't have that much room to prove it is better than a lesser school.
But it was not academic superiority that was the driver in this, though the Christian schools exceeded the local public offerings in most ways. While there was some chance they would not have thriven in a different environment, it is likely they would have done just as well. Nor was I worried about their being exposed to the teaching of evolution; rampant liberalism maybe, but evolution would have been a slight positive. And, when all is counted, you are going to have to undo some of the school's teaching of your child wherever they go. We decided we'd rather fight some battles than others.
Being in an environment that was unapologetic about its devotion to Christianity, Western Civilization, and writing proficiency were important. We think the emotional support they received was somewhat better. We think smaller schools in general are a better environment. We hoped to load the dice a bit on choice of friends.
But from earliest years we said quite openly that educating our children was our responsibility, not the school's, and acted on that. This sometimes annoyed them when we would have higher expectations than the teacher on what was an acceptable paper or project. (You can still get Ben to shake his head about his New Hampshire History project in 4th grade. Even at the time he would say "It's already an A+! There is no A+++!" But Tracy has taught NH History for two decades, and his project was going to be the most thorough in the annals of NH education. And it was, too.) The two Romanians in particular saw this as bizarre.
I would not say out loud what I then knew to be true but was even less acceptable in conversation in the 80's and 90's: that genetic inheritance was the dominant factor anyway.
Government Budget Discussions
The commisioner of the Department of Health and Human Services for NH - who I understand is a very nice guy - held an information meeting for employees of the Division this week. What was drummed home was how hard they are trying to not lay people off and to keep up services during hard times. In this, they spent a fair bit of time on how poorly the state legislators understood our needs and our problems. All week we have been hearing grimly satisfied stories about how stupid they were when they came to visit, seeing the reality of what their decisions mean.
Commiserating was the order of the day, including the statements from the higher-ups who were clearly focused on the political happenings and what they meant for us. The problem, it is clearly implied, is those irritating legislators who don't really understand about mental health and how much it costs to do it right. There is a lot of talk about educating legislators, and calling them up and letting them know how you feel. (Note the last word of that sentence.)
I've been hearing this for over thirty years, and have another take. Why is it that it always takes these guys by surprise that the legislature doesn't know very much about what we do? Every two years we hear the same thing. Those darn poopie-headed legislators. If only they knew. I submit that it is irresponsible of the administrators not to take this into their calculations after this many repetitions. How is this an unexpected development?
Of course they don't know much about our field. Nor about tourism, infrastructure, schools, motor vehicles, or any of the hundred other things they have to make decisions on. This is what government is. There is no magical legislature somewhere where the people all get it about everything. This is a reality of life. They are never going to know a lot about the reality of any government department. They are mostly reasonably intelligent people who want to learn the most important things about each of the areas in order to make some sort of semi-informed decision. That is all they are ever going to be at best. Even under Obama, children. Even if you elect a 50% Democrat 50% Green legislature. They will just be uninformed but somewhat more sympathetic to you.
What we call educating the legislature is mostly an exercise in getting them to adopt our world-view about what's important. That's not their job. Repeat, that's not their job. If you can get a few of them to see it your way so they will vote how you like and maybe influence some other legislators, you still haven't educated them. You just have equally ill-informed people who you perceive as being on your side.
When government budgets get cut, all departments go into the zero-sum game of trying to show that what they do is more important. They hold rallies. They form action teams that call legislators or try to get news stories out. People who know people talk to other people behind the scenes. Horror stories (or veiled threats) of how terrible things will be if we can't do our job the way we want are darkly circulated. Then when the hard decisions have to be made, some other guys can be blamed for not understanding. What we who know the field will not do with a scalpel, someone who doesn't know the field comes in and does with an axe. And we complain - look, they used an axe and did stupid things. Quelle surprise.
Apparently, preserving our self-righteous feelings of how important we are, and how right our world-view is, is more important, when push comes to shove, than the job our agency does. (Never mind the importance of keeping the costs down for the people who pay for it.) We would rather stand proudly and insist to all the world how inhumane all this is, and refuse to go along with it, than be prepared to get as much work done for our customers under any circumstances. This accusation, BTW, I level more at those higher-up, who don't want to be considered in the same batch as those stupid, inhumance legislators. We lower down are pretty used to making due with whatever comes down the conveyor belt.
Do you want me to acknowledge the reality that citizens in general, and the legislature in specific, don't understand how expense mental health treatment is, and it would be great if folks knew? Sure. As an example, local hospitals keep trying to open Designated Receiving Facilities for mental health, because the amount of reimbursement they see getting per patient looks like easy money. They're sure they can cut costs better than any dumb old government agency. Then they open it and find that mental health care (or DD care, or elderly care) is far more labor-intensive than they thought and costs a lot. So they get out of that side of the business. It's very expensive. To do it right, it would cost us a lot more. Legitimate costs, not just crap like Wellness Fairs that I always complain about. Oh, if only people knew how expensive it was, we'd get more money. No, if people knew how expensive it really is they wouldn't think we could do everything for everyone and elect people who tell us we can, and still punish the mean old corporate money-makers who fund this whole enterprise. If the citizenry knew, they would say "Holy crap! We can't afford that unless we cut lots of other cool stuff that makes us feel good, plus let the economy go into Hong Kong-style freewheeling capitalism with lots of risks. Can't have that."
Commiserating was the order of the day, including the statements from the higher-ups who were clearly focused on the political happenings and what they meant for us. The problem, it is clearly implied, is those irritating legislators who don't really understand about mental health and how much it costs to do it right. There is a lot of talk about educating legislators, and calling them up and letting them know how you feel. (Note the last word of that sentence.)
I've been hearing this for over thirty years, and have another take. Why is it that it always takes these guys by surprise that the legislature doesn't know very much about what we do? Every two years we hear the same thing. Those darn poopie-headed legislators. If only they knew. I submit that it is irresponsible of the administrators not to take this into their calculations after this many repetitions. How is this an unexpected development?
Of course they don't know much about our field. Nor about tourism, infrastructure, schools, motor vehicles, or any of the hundred other things they have to make decisions on. This is what government is. There is no magical legislature somewhere where the people all get it about everything. This is a reality of life. They are never going to know a lot about the reality of any government department. They are mostly reasonably intelligent people who want to learn the most important things about each of the areas in order to make some sort of semi-informed decision. That is all they are ever going to be at best. Even under Obama, children. Even if you elect a 50% Democrat 50% Green legislature. They will just be uninformed but somewhat more sympathetic to you.
What we call educating the legislature is mostly an exercise in getting them to adopt our world-view about what's important. That's not their job. Repeat, that's not their job. If you can get a few of them to see it your way so they will vote how you like and maybe influence some other legislators, you still haven't educated them. You just have equally ill-informed people who you perceive as being on your side.
When government budgets get cut, all departments go into the zero-sum game of trying to show that what they do is more important. They hold rallies. They form action teams that call legislators or try to get news stories out. People who know people talk to other people behind the scenes. Horror stories (or veiled threats) of how terrible things will be if we can't do our job the way we want are darkly circulated. Then when the hard decisions have to be made, some other guys can be blamed for not understanding. What we who know the field will not do with a scalpel, someone who doesn't know the field comes in and does with an axe. And we complain - look, they used an axe and did stupid things. Quelle surprise.
Apparently, preserving our self-righteous feelings of how important we are, and how right our world-view is, is more important, when push comes to shove, than the job our agency does. (Never mind the importance of keeping the costs down for the people who pay for it.) We would rather stand proudly and insist to all the world how inhumane all this is, and refuse to go along with it, than be prepared to get as much work done for our customers under any circumstances. This accusation, BTW, I level more at those higher-up, who don't want to be considered in the same batch as those stupid, inhumance legislators. We lower down are pretty used to making due with whatever comes down the conveyor belt.
Do you want me to acknowledge the reality that citizens in general, and the legislature in specific, don't understand how expense mental health treatment is, and it would be great if folks knew? Sure. As an example, local hospitals keep trying to open Designated Receiving Facilities for mental health, because the amount of reimbursement they see getting per patient looks like easy money. They're sure they can cut costs better than any dumb old government agency. Then they open it and find that mental health care (or DD care, or elderly care) is far more labor-intensive than they thought and costs a lot. So they get out of that side of the business. It's very expensive. To do it right, it would cost us a lot more. Legitimate costs, not just crap like Wellness Fairs that I always complain about. Oh, if only people knew how expensive it was, we'd get more money. No, if people knew how expensive it really is they wouldn't think we could do everything for everyone and elect people who tell us we can, and still punish the mean old corporate money-makers who fund this whole enterprise. If the citizenry knew, they would say "Holy crap! We can't afford that unless we cut lots of other cool stuff that makes us feel good, plus let the economy go into Hong Kong-style freewheeling capitalism with lots of risks. Can't have that."
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