A staff you can lean on

Nobody ever accused President Jed Bartlet of being too candid as President over his seven years of presiding over The West Wing. On the contrary, the hits he took in public were about being too distant, too intellectual, too removed from ordinary life. That is not an entirely unfair characterization of him, but it passes over the other part—the passionate, angry, vengeful president.

But for that, he had a staff. [1] I am going to come, shortly, to President Trump’s dispro 1belligerency about North Korea, including both “fire and fury like the world has never seen” and “not tough enough.”  And now, since I wrote those, to “locked and loaded.”  But let’s start with President Bartlet and work back.

In Season 1, Episode 3, “A Proportional Response,” the Syrians shot down an American aircraft. Bartlet was furious about the attack and even more furious about the routines that his military had developed for dealing with such things. These routines did not express the depth of his anger, nor did they assuage his desire for revenge. Here is Round 1 with his military and diplomatic staff in the situation room. Admiral Fitzwallace is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

BARTLET: Then I ask again, what is the virtue of a proportional response?

FITZWALLACE: It isn’t virtuous Mr. President. It’s all there is sir.

BARTLET: It is not all there is.

FITZWALLACE : …pardon me Mr. President, just what else is there?

BARTLET; A dis-proportional response. Let the word ring forth from this time and this place, gentlemen; you kill an American, any American, we don’t come back with a proportional response, we come back [bangs fist on table] with total disaster!

GENERAL: Are you suggesting we carpet-bomb Damascus?

BARTLET; General, I am suggesting that you and Admiral Fitzwallace and Secretary Hutchinson and the rest of the national security team take the next sixty minutes and put together a U.S. response scenario that doesn’t make me think we are just docking somebody’s damn allowance!

You couldn’t ask for more fury than that. He is angry and he has the power to punish and he wants to use it. But then an amazing thing happens. In Scene 3, President Bartlet returns to the Situation Room to hear about the new plan. He gets the new plan—and also an assessment of what this plan will look like to others.

Bartlet: You called me?

FITZWALLACE: Yes, sir. Mr. President we put together a scenario by which we attack Hassan airport…. I think Mr. Cashman and Secretary Hutchinson would each tell you what I’m sure you already know sir. That this strike would be seen at home and abroad as a staggering overreaction by a first time Commander in Chief. That without the support of our allies, without a Western Coalition, without Great Britain and Japan and without Congress, you’ll have doled out a five thousand dollar punishment for a fifty buck crime, sir.

Bartlet’s Chairman of the Joint Chief’s of Staff just responded to the Commander in Chief’s anger as “a staggering overreaction by a first time Commander in Chief.” It is, concisely, “a rookie mistake.”

And there are reasons why it is a mistake. There would need to be a “Western Coalition” dispro 2to support the kind of response the President is talking about. Bartlet just wants to hit back. There has been no engagement with Congress, not even the famous “Gang of Eight.” [1]. Nothing with Great Britain or Japan. There has been no foreign policy preparation at all and only a rookie President would act militarily in such circumstances and this rookie President if very fortunate t have someone who will tell him that.  The caption is from a Fitzwallace fan.  He didn’t have a nameplate that said that.

Bartlet is stopped by his staff. He is still angry and more will have to be done before he addresses the American people that eventing. That additional work is done by Leo McGarry in the Oval Office and when he is done, Bartlet is able to give a public voice that sounds like this.

BARTLET: My fellow Americans, good evening. A short while ago I ordered our Armed Forces to attack and destroy four military targets in Northern Syria, this in response to the unwarranted, unprovoked, and cold-blooded downing three days ago of an unarmed Air Force jet carrying 58 passengers and the flag of the United States.

It took some doing, but he got there.

The Trump Presidency

It is widely thought that no one in the Trump administration would be able to stand up to President Trump the way Admiral Fitzwallace stood up to President Bartlet. This places the contrast between these two residents of the Oval Office in an odd relationship to each other.

dispro 3For example, it is not a difference of public and private person. Bartlet was as angry in this narrative as Trump is today about the threat of North Korea. It is not that Bartlet successfully muffles his anger, determined to act like a president, rather than like an avenger. Taking this scene as a fair instance of his early presidency, he “muffles his anger” no better than President Trump is reported to.

But President Trump has not yet appointed anyone to play either role. John Kelly’s role–that’s Kelly in the picture above– appears to be to keep everyone else in line. It appears to include General John Dunford, the current Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—the role Admiral Fitzwallace played in the TV narrative. And there is no setting where this could occur. President Bartlet convened the members of “national security team” to give him a report in the Situation Room. No one is convened at the site of President Trump’s 3:00 a.m. tweets.

So it appears that the setting is not there. It may be, as they say, that no one wrote the “fire and fury” line for him, but he has been rehearsing it for awhile now in angry outbursts with his associates. None of the associates seem to have found a way to say what these experts, see below, are saying, according to CNN.

Trump’s comment, which came shortly before North Korean officials threatened the United States territory of Guam with missiles, was criticized as too bellicose and direct by national security and defense experts who argued any conflict involving nuclear weapons called for calm and reserve.

So the setting is not there and as nearly as we can tell, the people who can utilize their expertise to move toward “calm and reserve” are not there either. Every president I have seen so far, and that list begins with FDR, has found a way to adapt himself to the Presidency. “It sobers you,” said recent President Barack Obama.

But it may have inebriated President Trump. If he has developed, as many think, a habit of saying what people tell him he shouldn’t say, that means one thing in a radio interview. It means not much more in a TV show that features him firing people. It means somewhat more when it comes to ethnic slurs and predatory comments about women.

But if it really is a habit—as it seems—and if he really is unwilling to set it aside for the dispro 4purpose of dealing with other heads of state, some friendly, some hostile, then he needs a strong staff in the very worst way. And he shows very little inclination—General Kelly is a possible exception—to appoint any. The recent televised cabinet meeting at which each secretary was given a chance to say what an honor it was to serve in the Trump administration, does not bode well for anyone giving the President good advice.

Let’s hope that Kim Jong Un is being better served by his staff.

[1] There is debate about the origin of the term “staff,” to refer to the people who serve you in some way. Everyone agrees the staff = “stick” in some sense, but one group believes it is a stick something like the baton that officers carry, while others think it is a stick more like a shepherd’s staff and that the joke is that the staff are the people you can lean on. I don’t know which is correct but, obviously, I prefer the one with the joke in it.

[2] Specifically, the Gang of Eight includes the leaders of each of the two parties from both the Senate and House of Representatives, and the chairs and ranking minority members of both the Senate Committee and House Committee for intelligence as set forth by 50 U.S.C. § 3093(c)(2).A

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Enjoy your meal

That seems straightforward enough. It’s the kind of thing many waiters and waitresses say as they leave your table, having just served your meal. And if the alternative is not enjoying your meal, I think it is the best of the options.

But enjoying and not enjoying your meal are not the only options. There is, for instance, paying no attention to your meal at all.

meal 2I ask you to imagine that sitting down at a table with friends to eat a meal is really just a palette; it is an occasion that you will use to paint a picture of yourself. In this scenario, the meal itself is just a color, just a tool. In such a setting, it makes no more sense to say “Enjoy your meal” than it would to say to an artist, “Enjoy your yellow.”

Thought of in that way, the meal is a just a way of presenting yourself and “enjoying it” is something you would do if it advances that program. So to properly appreciate “Enjoy your meal,” we need to start back a little farther with “Pay attention to your meal.”

If you do pay attention to your meal, judging it for what it is, rather than for what is says about you, you might not enjoy it at all. I have had meals, and so have you, that are best endured, rather than enjoyed. The meat is overdone, the potatoes are lumpy, and the asparagus, having been served twice now, has developed a texture you really don’t want to encounter at the table.

If I were a positive person who was paying attention to all the possibilities for pleasure available to me at the time, I would concentrate on the people who were there, if there were a really good wine to go with this really awful meal, I would hope to enjoy it fully. There is no reason, in short, why I could not “enjoy the mealtime,” even if I couldn’t find a way to enjoy the meal. [1]

If I were a needy person, a person for whom a dinner with friends was really just an opportunity for self-enhancement, there are several paths I could take. I could say of the mediocre T-bone steak that it isn’t bad, but you should see the way they prepare steak like this in Texas. “I remember a time when Maudie and I were there in ’57 at the ranch of a friend of ours…” I could say of the broccoli that it wasn’t bad, but when we were in Berne, we were served broccoli that was fresher than this and with the most marvelous béarnaise sauce. And I could say of the mashed potatoes that they weren’t all that bad, but in Dublin, where I grew up [2], they used to whip sour cream and just a touch of horseradish into the potatoes. Now that’s the way to do potatoes.  The broccoli with béarnaise sauce looks pretty good, I’ll have to say.

It makes you glad there weren’t more courses, doesn’t it? This person is not attending tomeal 1 the meal at all, so very probably he is not enjoying it. Each kind of food is an occasion for recounting where else he has eaten this kind of food and how much better it was then than now. It is a self-aggrandizing performance and while it doesn’t, strictly speaking, preclude his enjoying the food, it is hard to think that he does.

Note to my blogging self: One of the perfectly valid versions of attending to and enjoying the meal is to savor what is best in each kind of food and to say nothing about it to anyone. That means that I, sitting at the same table, wouldn’t know anything about that experience at all, which is why I am skipping over it with just the briefest mention. That person’s experience, as good as it is, is not available to me so I don’t see why he bothers having it at all.

Another kind of neediness can be seen in “justifying the food.” It seems just a little odd to think that the food might need to be justified, but let me tell you what I mean. It might be that the broccoli is so good because they used to prepare it differently, back in the bad old days, and then I went in and had a conversation with the executive chef and since then, he has been preparing it the way I asked for it to be prepared and isn’t it wonderful? Or, more briefly, “Am I not wonderful?”

And then there is that way of receiving the meal that fits under the “justification” heading too, and is characterized by explaining why a particular course is not good. They have had such trouble with the firm that is currently providing our produce. The available space in the kitchen is so small that they can’t prepare everything at once. The influx of new help in the kitchen means that they aren’t going to get everything right immediately, but this—the food as it is tonight—is just a temporary inconvenience.

This last person may be a very nice person and she is extremely knowledgeable. But if each food item is a tool for amplifying her own role the successes or, in this case, for justifying the food by describing the kitchen or the cooks or the suppliers, then it is likely that her attention, also, is not on the food. [3]

It wouldn’t do, I suppose for the server to leave the table with “Enjoy whatever is best in this mealtime setting.” And I’m not recommending it. But I might just think it to myself as a reminder that there is going to be something that deserves my full attention and I want to be open to enjoying it. This opportunity is going to be at that table at that time and I hope I have the discipline to seek it and enjoy it fully. [4]

[1] A more challenging case would be if one item was really superb amid the basket of deplorable items. To be free to recognize that it was good and to really experience how good it was, would be an achievement to be proud of.

[2] It may have been Dublin, Ohio, but we won’t be seeing these particular people again.
[3] The food, in this scenario, is the victim. It has been badly supplied or badly prepared or badly served, but it is not to blame.

[4] I could do it without all that discipline, I suppose, but when I do it on purpose, I like it better.

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Political Lies and Political Liars

Lord Alexander Chung-sik Finkle-McGraw is instructing John Percival Hackworth, a relatively new member of the New Victorians, on “hypocrisy.” Is hypocrisy a big deal, Finkle-McGraw wants to know, or is it the way it was back at the end of the 20th Century, “the queen of the vices.”
I want to work, today, with the idea that what Finkle-McGraw tells Hackworth about hypocrisy is just what someone needs to tell American voters about lying. If I had the wisdom Finkle-McGraw has, I would do it myself, but…alas. [1]

The occasion for this reflection is the August 7 article by Sheryl Gay-Stolberg in the New York Times. She is anti-Trump, of course. That goes without saying. The New York Times, editorial staff, reporters, and columnists are all anti-Trump. But this article by Gay-Stolberg isn’t about that at all. She is wondering, and so am I, “ whether Mr. Trump, in elevating the art of political fabrication, has forever changed what Americans are willing to tolerate from their leaders.”

Have we changed?

That’s the way she puts the question in her last paragraph and I think it is a good question, but it is not my question. What I am wondering is what kinds of changes in the American public have made lying on the Trump scale, acceptable.

liar 4Let’s take it for granted that people like President Trump do whatever they feel is in their best interest. [2] And I take it for granted that people listen to what they think is in their best interest and believe what they think it is in their best interest to believe. And I think it has always been like that. I think that characterizes the presidencies of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln and Bill Clinton. [3]

If that is true, it is just as potentially revealing to ask the question from the voter side as it is from the perpetrator side. So Gay-Stolberg’s summary might be rephrased this way. “Whether Americans, in what they are willing to tolerate from their leaders, have forever changed how Mr. Trump [politicians] are elevating the art of political fabrication.”

Have the structures of the political world changed?

This analysis points to some of the structural features of contemporary politics that would have to be taken into account in a more thorough assessment. I will just refer to them here because I am not going to deal with them myself. Here are three.

The media environment is now fragmented. There is no one to play the “respected elder” role that Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley, and David Brinkley did. And in the multiplicity of sources, everyone seems to have a first glance claim to credibility.

The electoral environment has now changed so that in many districts the principal contest is the primary election, not the general election. That means that incumbents must guard against challenges from the extreme end of the partisan scale—conservative candidates from the extreme right, liberal candidates from the extreme left [4]. So the old days, when the general election forced candidates toward the center, are over. The rewards are mostly from the extremes and candidates use the extreme language that will attract supporters and contributors.

In such environments, it is harder to tell what a lie is. More and more political meetingsliar 6 remind me of the “pep rallies” of my high school days. Speaker after speaker praises the home team and vilifies the next team on the schedule. Coaches will say things like, “And we are going to win because we are winners” with complete impunity. It doesn’t imply anything about the actual prospects of the home team in the coming game. We may have lost every game so far and be confidently expected to lose this one as well. No one takes what appears to be a prediction as a statement with any factual content at all. It is just a way of praising ourselves and fortifying ourselves against whatever reality will bring.

Political contexts were once different. If there is a center to the media that is respected and if the crowds being addressed are moderate and mixed, then there is no “we” of the kind the coach presupposes in his pep talk. And that means that things that appear to be statements of fact need to be at least plausible. [5]

Finally, the customs governing political discourse have changed. It was once a moderately funny joke to cite Sir Henry Wotton, a 17th Century wit who said,”An Ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country.” The Ambassador is “us” and he is sent off to lie to “them.” That standard has come home and it isn’t even moderately funny anymore.

Politicians lie more now because there is more reason for them to lie—see the point above about playing to the extremes of your party—and there is less reason to fear denunciation. According to the standard of small communities, if a person told lies, then he was a liar. He was condemned for it and his claims were ignored. [6]

liar 2There is no down side, in the current environment, to being shown to be a liar. In fact, now that I think of it, I don’t see that word used. We see stories that some percent of a politician’s statements (I saw a 70% ranking for Trump during the campaign) are lies, but not that the candidate was “a liar.” In the current environment, lies are honored equally with truths as “courageous,” or as “standing up for the downtrodden” (or the downtreaders) or “saying how he really feels.”

The “gotcha!” of being caught and shamed by lying in public—unless it is to a federal investigator—is gone. That’s the point Lord Finkle-McGraw wanted to make about hypocrisy. It is now part of the practice of doing the public’s business. We don’t punish the perpetrators anymore.

How we train our candidates

When I was young, I was part of a group of guys who used to play touch football in a vacant lot next to our church. My friend, Bruce Motter, lived only a block away and was within easy earshot of his home. His mother let him play right up until the time dinner was on the table, provided that he would come home when she called. That was the deal.  So we would hear her call, “Bruce.” We would look at him and he would shrug and we would keep on playing. The next one sounded like “Bruce!!” We all responded the same way. Finally there was “Bruce Allen Motter you come home this instant!” and Bruce would say, “Gotta go, guys” and take off.

I’ve been thinking about that story as I read Sheryl Gay-Stolberg’s article. We train our liar 3public officials by treating some things as acceptable and others as not acceptable. Politicians who thought their campaigns would be seriously damaged if they could be shown to be lying about public matters would stop lying about public matters. Mrs. Motter trained my friend Bruce to understand that he was not really being called for dinner when she called his name. Bruce responded exactly as you would expect, and as any politician would, who was doing something rewarding and illicit and was not punished for it.

Does it really work that way? It did in the experiment Brendan Nyhan and some colleagues put together. Here’s how that worked.

In a controlled experiment, researchers showed a group of voters a misleading claim by Mr. Trump, while another group saw that claim accompanied by “corrective information” that directly contradicted what Mr. Trump had said. The group that viewed the corrections believed the new information, but seeing it did not change how they viewed Mr. Trump.

So the viewers in the second group saw what Trump said, saw that it was not true, and continued to feel about him—however that was—the same way they had before. I am wondering what the effect would have been had Trump’s statement been called “a lie,” on the basis that the new information, which in this world is completely reliable, shows it to be untrue and the group is also shown that Trump knew it to be untrue when he said it.  Here are three plausible steps.

That would be step one; knowingly false = lie. Step two would be backing that reality up into the character of the speaker; frequently lies = liar. Then step three would be the campaign implication; do you want a liar representing you in Congress or in the White House or in the governor’s mansion?

We’ve lost that, I think. If you call the “pep rally” setting to mind, the coach is speaking for “us” and he is saying false bad things about “them” and that shows his loyalty. It show, as we say today, that his heart is in the right place.
“Lying to us” can hardly be imagined in such a setting, which might fairly be called “tribal.”

Solution

I don’t really have one. I called it that so you would read this last paragraph. It seems to me that if lying to your constituents has an upside (voters will know you are on their side) and no downside (no one expects you to tell the truth or has any incentive to punish you for lying) then candidates and incumbents will lie.

If we can get out of tribal mode (like the pep rally setting) and demand that speakers, even though they are truly “us,” tell us the truth, then there is a good reason for them to stop lying. We—not intending to overlook the crucial role of the media—are the ones who define what behavior is rewarded. Making statements you know to be untrue could be called lies. People who routinely tell lies could be called liars. A strong presumption against electing liars to represent us, could be articulated and supported. [7]

If lying “to us” is just something public figures are doing “to them,” then I think we are all lost.

[1] Although, it is true that Finkle-McGraw is “an equity lord,” which means, he says, that he is freed to—“entitled to” in a sense— consider the welfare of the phyle as a whole, not just his own place in it. Thanks to Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age for this wonderful character. That is very much what Erik Erikson says about the developmental stage he calls “generativity,” and I have actually made it that far.
[2] By “best interest,” I don’t mean to imply that there is anything like a careful cost/benefit analysis going on, or even whether he is comparing the immediate gratifications of blustering with the delayed consequences of losing large sections of his principal staff.
[3] There are both internal and external reasons for refusing to deceive the public, but the question is never one of “character” v. “expediency.” Sometimes good character requires you to discern and choose the lesser evil.
[4] Despite the wishes of many commentators, there is no “extreme center.”
[5] By “plausible,” I mean only that a case can be made for the assertion. Supporting facts can be adduced. A “reasonable case,” not an irrefutable case, can be made. It is a very low standard.
[6] Not trying to imply, of course, that the behavior of public officials in small towns was like that, only that the standards that were preached and were sometimes practiced, denied credibility to people who were known to be liars.
[7] Of course, “telling the truth” is not an ultimate value. Representing your constituents well is the ultimate value. But telling the truth will allow voters to make that decision on the merits. Telling tribal lies is not at all the same thing as telling the truth.

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Boys and girls and emotionality

“Why do we limit the emotional vocabulary of boys?”

In this piece from the New York Times, Andrew Reiner collects some recent research about how infant boys and girls are treated differently. He cites quite a range of research and not all of it seems to fit together. It may well be that this opinion piece is a chopped up version of a longer essay. I have had that happen to me and I am prepared to be sympathetic. Or it may be that he has a critique in mind—the one with which I have begun this reflection on his column—and that he is just grouping around it the research that comes to hand.

I am quite sure that “we” in the question includes teachers like himself. I am reasonably sure that by “limit,” he means that without the actions he and others take, the “emotional vocabulary” of boys would be richer. I suspect that if the “emotional vocabulary” of boys were “richer,” it would be very much more like that of girls.

So then I wonder why that would be a good idea.

Grieving Styles

I come to this question by a devious and personal route. My wife, Marilyn, died in gender 12003 and I had the kinds of grieving difficulties men have when their wives die. One of the difficulties was confusion. A lot of the things that were being recommended to me didn’t seem to help. Some of them made everything seem worse. That’s why I was confused.

I heard an interview on NPR with author Kenneth Doka, co-author with Terry Martin of a book now called Grieving Beyond Gender: Understanding the Ways that Men and Women Mourn. Doka was saying in this interview that the work he and his co-author had done showed that men and women very often grieved differently. That didn’t surprise me.

Then he said something that did surprise me. He said that the style more commonly used by women—they call it the intuitive style—is also the gold standard among mental health counselors. So if a man is grieving, he has a grief problem to deal with. If he sees a counselor who tells him how he should be grieving, laying out the common elements of the intuitive style, then, Doka said, he has two problems.

Not only is he grieving, but he is doing it wrong.

They call the style men more frequently use, the “instrumental style.” Just hearing Doka describe the kinds of things that many men do with their grief and how helpful they have found it made me relax. Some very large, very intimate tension inside me just gave way at that point. I was so grateful that I went out and bought the book and read it three or four times.

And that is why when I hear lines like “expanding the emotional vocabulary of boys”—which might very well be a good thing once the “How far?” question is answered—I think of my experience with the intuitive and instrumental styles of grieving. [2]

Expressing and suppressing

There are three ways to frame this problem.

  • You can say that there is “a right way to do it.”
  • You can say that gender styles are too tight (rigid) or too loose (unclear).
  • You can say that a particular person should think about gender and emotions differently, that he or she would be benefitted by emoting, lets use that as an example, differently that he or she does now.

Just to shape of the contours of those dilemmas a little, let’s try to imagine what questions they offer us.

  • The first setting can be illustrated by saying that suppressing emotions is a bad thing to do. Note that that instance bypasses both the gender-appropriate and the person-appropriate forms of the question. Here’s an example from Reiner’s article.

“…Harvard psychologist Susan David [says]: “Research shows that people who suppress emotions have lower-level resilience and emotional health.”

That may be true. “Suppress” is hard to be sure about. “Suppress” means that an emotion is experienced and prevented from expression. Nothing here says that boys, for instance, who are judged to be “over-expressive” have better emotional health. Nothing says that Charlie, the boy himself, would benefit from suppressing his emotions more or less. Both of those question are bypassed.

  • The second way of framing the question is saying that gender roles are too narrow—or alternatively, that the boundaries are too rigid. Clearly, “limit the emotional vocabulary of boys” falls into this pattern. The implication is that the emotional expressions of boys would naturally be broader—i.e. more like those of girls—except for the “limiting” that is done. Most of the studies cited in Reiner’s piece are about how such limiting is done. He does a good job, I think, of posing that question.

gender 4But there is the matter if whether that is the best question to pose. In posing this one, he bypassed the other two question we are keeping in mind. The first is whether “broad allowances for emotional expression” are good for people. In focusing on the possibility that these limits are bad for boys, Reiner bypassed the question of whether people in general are benefitted from rich and unconstrained emotional expression. If that were true, we would expect to find that cultures that presuppose free and unfettered emotional expression would be healthier than cultures that do not. I am not aware of any research that holds that to be true, but I will keep my eyes open.

Then there is the question, also bypassed by Reiner’s choice, of whether a particular boy would be benefitted. If Reiner were a counselor, rather than a professor, his job would be to look after the well-being of his client. Some clients will need to be taught better control, some greater spontaneity, and some finer discrimination between one social setting and another. Under no circumstances should Counselor Reiner allow Professor Reiner to dictate how he handles his clients because clients have such a distressing tendency to differ from each other.

  • Finally, there is the question of whether any particular boy would benefit from “a richer emotional vocabulary.” There is no way to deal with this question abstractly and I don’t criticize Reiner for failing to deal with it. I mention it here only because asking it bypasses the other two questions. We cannot begin with a particular boy in mind and ask whether people are healthier if they are more expressive; nor can we ask whether the gender-based expectations for emotionality are too broad or too narrow for boys.

Should boys (men) be different from girls (women)?

My own answer is that they certainly should, but the question isn’t very often asked that way and you will notice that Reiner does not ask it that way either. He asks whether boys would “benefit” from an array of emotional expression that is more like that of girls.

This is a question of the second kind as I explored the three above. It does not ask what is good for “people” or for a particular person, but for the members of one sex, males in this case. That raises the question of what problem of boys the proposal addresses. If it is “limited emotional vocabulary,” as in Reiner’s case, the question we want to ask is what benefit “unlimited”—I know he doesn’t mean that, but “limited” is such a weasel word—would bring to boys. How would they be better off if they expressed themselves more emotionally?

As you would guess by now, my answer is that some boys would benefit and some wouldn’t.gender 3 Furthermore, some girls would benefit from a more limited emotional vocabulary and others would not. This is the most important kind of question for parents, but I agree with Reiner that it isn’t very good for outsiders. The research Reiner reports has to do with mothers and fathers with young infants. No one is asking what kind of treatment is going to benefit this particular infant. That is not a question that can be asked yet.

A 2014 study in Pediatrics found that mothers interacted vocally more often with their infant daughters than they did their infant sons. In a different study, a team of British researchers found that Spanish mothers were more likely to use emotional words and emotional topics when speaking with their 4-year-old daughters than with their 4-year-old sons.

That’s interesting, but it isn’t important unless it contributes to the “problem” Reiner cares about in this column, which is the “limited emotional vocabulary.” And if I care about the growth and development of little boys and girls, I can’t tell how this finding should matter to me.

Reiner also reports research about the orientation of parents to young children, which is perfectly appropriate, but the research he reports is limited entirely to narrow interactions, rather than to the effects on the person.

What’s more, a 2017 study led by Emory University researchers discovered, among other things, that fathers also sing and smile more to their daughters, and they use language that is more “analytical” and that acknowledges their sadness far more than they do with their sons. The words they use with sons are more focused on achievement — such as “win” and “proud.” Researchers believe that these discrepancies in fathers’ language may contribute to “the consistent findings that girls outperform boys in school achievement outcomes.”

It is not hard to imagine, based on this study that fathers acknowledging the sadness of their daughters validates any inclination they might have had toward emotional expression. Similarly, the fathers’ focus on the achievement of their sons might very well be related to the sons’ focus on task-oriented behavior, rather than on emotional expression.

gender 6Looking at this from my standpoint, I see the precursors of the intuitive style of grieving and the instrumental style of grieving. The lesson I took from that setting is that there is a perfectly good style of grieving that doesn’t require an expanded emotional vocabulary (as well as one that does) and I am inclined to look at Reiner’s piece from that standpoint.

Peer and mate selection

One question an adolescent boy might ask if he were to read Reiner’s piece (OK, what are the chances?) is “How is the emotional style I choose going to affect my life?” Reiner offers two little clips that bear, ominously, on that question. One comes from his own classroom, presumably at Towson University in New Jersey.

Nowhere is this truer than in English classes where, as I’ve witnessed after more than 20 years of teaching, boys and young men police each other when other guys display overt interest in literature or creative writing assignments.

His point in citing this is that the guys in these classes seem to “fear” [3] emotion-rich engagement with poetry, for instance. For whatever reason, saying these kinds of things is likely to get you in trouble with your buddies and everyone in the class knows that. Your options at that point are to endure the trouble, to fight back, or to choose different buddies. [4] None of those is easy, which is why the “policing function” exercised by same sex peers is so effective.

The other question one might ask is how a style of emotional expression might affect your marriage chances. Here’s Reiner on that question.

Indeed, a Canadian study found that college-aged female respondents considered men more attractive if they used shorter words and sentences and spoke less. This finding seems to jibe with Dr. Brown’s research, suggesting that the less men risk emoting verbally, the more appealing they appear.

Or as Brené Brown summarizes it: “Women often say they want men to be emotionally transparent with them [bur]…many grow uneasy or even recoil if men take them up on their offer.”

So as a young man of the college and marriage age—I remember a time when those were very nearly the same—I look at myself and my emotional style and seek the approval of my male friends and the prospective appreciation of my female friends and I say that succinct and task-oriented are the way to go.

Conclusion

That’s not entirely fair to Reiner. He is offering a gender-based critique and he had taken the risk of showing that the research cuts both ways. I am calling into question the research that doesn’t go the way I would like it and using nearly all of the research he reports that does go the way I like it. But those small points aside, in putting the crucial question in the mind of a young man, a particular young may, I am undoing his whole strategy that “boys”—the whole genderful of people—be considered as the subject.

When a particular young man asks this question, he may well come out further down the line than Reiner would like him and closer to what I would like.

There is a problem here that needs to be solved. Surely there is. I am not sure, based on my reading of Andrew Reiner’s piece in the New York Times just what it is.

[1]  Nobody wants to deal with the “how far” question.  “More” which is just a direction seems safe.  I think boys should have more.  But “how much more” is a destination, not just a direction, and it asks the question, how much is enough and how much is too much?  The critique is often as broad as the gender.  The the answer is going to have to come one boy at a time.

[2] I think that in practice, “narrow” and “rigid” are just two visualizations of the same problem. “Narrow” refers to the space of behavior that is allowed. Broad, many kinds of behavior are permitted (not stigmatized) and “narrow,” only a few kinds are permitted. I think that “rigid” refers to the lability of the boundaries. If the boundaries are flexible, the whole question of whether they are broad or narrow is bypassed.
[3] The choice of “fear” is advocacy language. What would be obvious to any observer, the professor included, is that the other guys are disapproving “sensitive” or “emotionally nuanced” interactions with literature. The idea that this disapproval is the product of the “fear” of the other guys is an explanation that advanced Reiner’s view of the problem, but isn’t an “experience” he has had. It is a theory he is pitching.
[4] Of course, it isn’t always gender. Michelle Obama, when she was a little girl, was reproved by one of her classmates for not sounding black enough. “Ooooh,” the friend said, “You sound like a white girl.” The First Lady-in-training responded that she liked the answer she had given and was not going to change it to make it sound blacker.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Communication, Living My Life, ways of knowing | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The (pause) Lord’s (pause) Prayer (stop)

So many kinds of things go on in a Protestant worship service. [1] Calling it “a worship service” is almost a courtesy, but I like the term because it expresses our highest hopes about what we are doing there. Or maybe only the best hopes we remember having.

So “worship service” might almost be called a term of aspiration, rather than of description. It is not so much what we do as what we aspire to. What we actually do might be better described as a variety show. There are “acts” of all kinds to suit all sorts of tastes. There are the high holy moments and the low holy moments. The attention of the congregation comes together in a sharp focus, then drifts away. [2]

The Lord's Prayer 5

I’d like to explore this notion by considering three moments in the recent worship services in my church, the First Presbyterian Church of Portland, Oregon. I don’t mean by choosing these three to imply that other important things were not happening. There may have been a challenging sermon on that morning, or the reading of a thought-provoking scripture, or a children’s sermon that engaged the children and that had an additional track of meaning laid down for the listening adults.

I am choosing these three things because they are like the beds in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. One is too hard and one is too soft and one is just right. [3] I want to look at the Prayer of Confession, at the Affirmation of Faith, and at our common recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. And so you won’t need to maintain the suspense, the affirmation of faith is too hard, the prayer of confession is too soft, and the Lord’s Prayer is just right.

The Affirmation of Faith

We use quite a few different texts in our service, but recently, we have been using the Confession of 1967. The Confession of ’67 was not intended to be read in unison. It is not well-adapted to that use and we do it very badly. In addition to that, it is used as an auxiliary sermon—not to give us a chance to say what we believe, but to tell us what we ought to believe.

Here’s part of the section we read last Sunday.

The institutions of the people of God
change and vary as their mission requires in different times and different places
The unity of the church is compatible with a wide variety of forms,
but it is hidden and distorted when variant forms are allowed
to harden into sectarians divisions,
exclusive denominations, and rival factions.

Compare that, just to get the flavor of the two, with the first and last lines of the Nicene creed:

I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible….and I believe one holy catholic and apostolic Church.. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.

Although the Confession of ’67 is set into verse form, presumably to make it easier to read, it is not easier to read. Nothing you can do with the last three lines of the Confession of ’67, beginning with “but it is hidden…” will align the sense and the sound of the lines. By contrast, everything in the Nicene creed falls naturally into spoken patterns.

The Confession of Sin

On the other hand, the our church—that includes the people who write the prayers byThe Lord's Prayer 4 which we confess our sins together—have not been able to find a form for that confession. The old style (a very attractive example follows)  was bold and without any amelioration at all. “We have sinned in thought, word and deed.” Not much wiggle room there. “We have done that which we ought not to have done and we have left undone those things that we ought to have done.” So again, nowhere to hide.

Here is one from a recent week. It seems so beautiful to me that it is hard for me to say it aloud.

Gracious God, our sins are too heavy to carry, too deep to undo.
Forgive what our hearts can no longer bear.
Set us free from a past that we cannot change;
open us to a future in which we can be changed;
and grant us grace to grow more and more into your likeness;
through Jesus Christ, the light of the world.

It is meant to be read together and you see how congregations are invited to do that by parallels like “too heavy to carry” and “too deep to undo.” The admissions are bold, but then, so are the remedies. “Set us free…” and “open us to a future” and “grant us grace” are sweeping. The theology is orthodox. The appeal of the words themselves is enticing.

Despite my radically individualistic upbringing, I find I like that uncompromising tone. It bookends nicely, for one thing, with the Affirmation of Faith, in which we “confess” those things we aspire to believe whether we actually do at the moment or not. In the Confession of Sin, we “confess” to sins as we imagine a just and holy God sees them. We ourselves, might have seen them as “failures to communicate” [4] but in the phrasing of the confession, we are prepared to see that God sees them as more fundamental and more destructive.

But that use of the confession makes the little qualifications we often put in seem unworthy. We say, “We have sometimes failed….” and “We have not always trusted…” and some Sunday soon I expect that we will be asked to pray “We have not lived up fully to Your expectations.”

People have apparently felt that the traditional form of the confession is not empirically valid. Either it is not true that that we have sinned in thought, word, and deed, or that description does not recognize that there were instances when we did not fail in thought, word, and deed. And that would have us confess an “untruth,” which surely God does not demand of us. [5] Right.  But it seems to me that confessions of principle, of sin as such, are only made to look ridiculous by being qualified with date stamps.

The Lord’s Prayer

But we do say the Lord’s Prayer. We don’t understand it, but we do say it and the experience of being a part of a congregation united in the saying—that means a great deal to me. For me, that is the third Goldilocks bed: it is not too hard or too soft. In fact, the hardness or softness of it doesn’t really bear on my appreciation of it at all. It isn’t always the meaning of the Lord’s Prayer that moves me in the Sunday service; it is the experience of all of us saying the same thing in the same way at the same time.

It isn’t a visual experience. If it were visual, I would have to choose between seeing the Lord's Prayer 1unity—as if I were watching the Rockettes in New York and marveling that they kick exactly the same kick at the same time—and being a part of the unity. If it’s visual, you have to do one or the other. The saying/hearing the Lord’s Prayer is aural. Not only can you say it and hear it—hear yourself as one of many—at the same time, but you can try to approximate the way you say it to match the way you are hearing it. [6]

Our congregation stumbles a little at the beginning because our various leaders in worship lead into the Lord’s Prayer differently. Some say, “the prayer that Jesus taught us to pray”—pause (maybe a fifth of a second)—“Our Father….” Some use different introductions. Some don’t pause at all. As a result, we, the congregation, don’t normally catch the common rhythm at the beginning but by the end of the second phrase “who art in heaven,” we are together.

And we continue together. We break between phrases whose meaning requires a break. We break between phrases whose meaning requires continuing the thought. But we break at the end of each phrase and we break for the same length of time and we sound (to me) like one voice. [7] It’s hard to say just how long the breaks are. I would guess they are between one tenth and one fifth of a second, but whatever they are, they are the same each time.

And we sound like one voice.

We are an extraordinarily diverse church. This is really the only thing we do in unison. It feels healing to me in part because I know that an hour ago people differed sharply from each other on what the words “my brethren” means in the phrase, “the least of these my brethren.” They still disagree about that and will for years to come, but here they are in the worship service, pausing between “Thy Kingdom come” and “Thy will be done” in perfect unity.

[1] I am limiting the topic drastically, but I haven’t experienced very much outside Protestantism.
[2] That’s not a complaint. Allowing your attention to drift, while you are in a competently run worship service in a beautiful building with familiar and well-performed music is not at all a bad thing. It isn’t everything.
[3] I’ve never been happy with the way Goldilocks’ own preference for mattress firmness was ignored. The story is told as if it were all about the beds, when in fact, Goldilocks’ experience is the product of her preferences and the condition of the beds. Or, as my grad school mentor, Jim Davies, used to put it: B = f[P,E].
[4] Thanks to Cool Hand Luke for that enduring and widely shared expression.
[5] It has been some time, I imagine, since the people making this objection have looked over James, Chapter 2, which contains this gem: “10You see, anyone who keeps the whole of the Law but trips up on a single point, is still guilty of breaking it all. 11 He who said, ‘You must not commit adultery’ said also, ‘You must not kill.’ “
[6] That’s what I try to do. I have passed through two other phases. In the one, I tried to say it as a personally meaningful phrasing, saying it so that it sounded like me. In the other, I tried to say it in a way that “brought out the meaning,” whether anyone else was saying it that way or not. I now reject both of those, except when something in the service has seriously pissed me off.
[7] Every now and then, we get a worship leader who conceives of his or her job as teaching the congregation how it ought to be said. The most common crisis is between the phrase “And forgive us our sins” and “as we forgive our debtors.” Some worship leaders think that the contingent relationship, as they imagine it, between the two phrases ought to be stressed, so instead of breaking between the phrases, the just retard a little and continue the thought. The cost to the unity of the congregation’s voice is high, of course, and the value in significance gained in minuscule—particularly since, as Matthew has it, the “forgiveness” is a one time action.

Posted in Getting Old, Living My Life, Theology, Words | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Speaking facts to power

That’s not a typo. If you were expecting “Speaking truth to power,” read on.

In December, 2015, a blogger named Jade Greear, began a piece with the well-known expression “Speaking Truth to Power.” [1] Greear continued:

Those four little words comprise a powerful expression, one you’ve probably heard a lot this past year….Coined by the Quakers in the 1950’s, “speaking truth to power” is certainly not a new way of taking a stand and mobilizing society around change.

There is not one truth. That is sad, in a way, but a truth is a narrative and the narrative you build is based on where it starts. There are many perfectly valid starting places so there are many valid narratives. A contest among these “truths” is the common condition of large complex societies.

The people who rule a nation are the beneficiaries—often they are also the instigators—of the ruling narrative. The narrative “uses” facts. It “deploys” them as so many pawns; valuable but disposable. Speaking facts that are contrary to the narrative is usually—not always—a futile business and very often a dangerous business as well.

Greear cites Judith Sherwin, an attorney and Adjunct Professor at the Loyala School of Law:

“Sir Thomas More did it at the cost of his life when he spoke truth to power against King Henry VIII; Martin Luther King Jr. did it at the cost of his freedom when he ended up in the Birmingham jail and eventually at the cost of his life.”

More and King

Let’s take those two as test cases. Thomas More was convicted of treason and beheaded for refusing to take the Oath of Supremacy to Henry VIII. Is it meaningful to say that Henry was or was not “Supreme Head of the Church of England.” I say it is not meaningful.

facts 1About his execution, More is reported to have said, “I die the King’s good servant, and God’s first.” It is More’s claim to the ultimate sovereignty of God and the valid, but subordinate, claim King Henry has on his loyalty. More took his stand and paid the price as many honorable men and women have done through the ages. But what he said to the king, cannot be said to a “a truth.” Nor can it be said to be a fact. It is a witness. [2]

I would say the same of Martin Luther King Jr. The authorities in Birmingham forbade public protests. Dr. King participated in such a protest—thereby breaking the law—and they put him in jail. It is true that the powerful in Birmingham discriminated against black people. It is true that Dr. King broke the law.

Better truths

The relationship of one truth to another will always be uneasy. It would be easier to say that one narrative was more moral than another. Justice for all Americans, regardless of race, is “moral” and the suppression of some Americans because of their race is “immoral.” That makes perfect sense to me, provided that one is not said to be more nearly true than another. My view is that one is more nearly right than another.

It is one of the great weaknesses of liberalism in America that we continue to believe that the views of our opponents are “mistaken” rather than “wrong.” A narrative doesn’t have to be factually supportable in order to be an effective “truth.” If the truth is in the narrative, then facts—some facts— can be marshaled to support it. You don’t undercut the “truth” of the narrative or diminish its power by pointing out that it has the facts wrong.

Take global warming, for instance. Here are two relevant truths. The average global facts 3temperatures have been increasing at rates unprecedented in the modern era. The elites have nothing but contempt for “people like us” and will say whatever they want with no concern at all for our welfare. One of those is not “truer,” as we like to say, than another. Each “truth” determines the subsequent actions of one community or another—the scientists by the first truth, the “climate deniers” by the second.

Ask yourself whether one of these is “really true” and the other not. Both are true. They are not competing for verification. They are competing for air space. This is a perspective on truth and factuality that is denied by liberals by and large, both in principle and in practice. We still think that the truth can be established by the facts. We would choose the facts, of course.

There are some settings in which that is true. The examples of Thomas More and Martin Luther King Jr. don’t lead in that direction, but it is a direction worth pursuing anyway. I have an example that helps to illustrate this difference even though it shows scientific agreement in too favorable a light.

“Executive Monkeys”

In 1958, Joseph Brady published an article in Science called “Ulcers in ‘Executive’ Monkeys: It used monkeys who were yoked together so that a bad choice produced a shock both for the monkey that had made the choice—hence “executive monkey”—and for the passive partner who had not. Brady found that stomach ulcers, a measure of stress, were much more prominent in the executive monkeys than in the yoked partners.

In 1972, Jay Weiss published an article in the Journal of Comparative and Physiological Psychology showing that, in fact, the opposite was true. It is the yoked animals not the decision-making animals, that experienced the stress and showed the ulceration.

What’s going on here? Weiss was able to show that the results of Brady’s experiment were an artifact of which monkeys were chosen to play which roles. Brady reviewed the research design and agreed. The conclusions he had drawn were produced by a bad research design and were appropriately corrected by Weiss. End of story. (Well…it isn’t ever really the end.)

facts 2What we have here is a clash of narratives each supported by experimental data. The narrative supported by Brady’s findings is about the stress of decision making. The monkeys bore the burden of choosing and paid the price. The narrative supported by Weiss’s findings is about the stress brought on by powerlessness. The animals (rats in Weiss’s case) received shocks with no opportunity at all to avoid them and that is what produced the stress and the ulcers.

These are both worthwhile narratives and it may well be that they are both true in some setting or another. They are “truths.” But using the same narrative, a change in methodology produced different sets of facts and only one truth was supported by those facts. So the unsupported “truth” was withdrawn and research continued in the direction of the narrative that these facts support.

Speaking facts to power

I bring this idealistic instance of scientific controversy up in order to show how different it was from the Martin Luther King Jr. and the Thomas More examples. It is different from most scientific controversies too, but I have a further point to make too.

I want to talk to the liberals who think that establishing the facts is going to make a difference to the truths that the reigning powers preach. These liberals—I am a liberal but I am not one of those liberals—think that the entrenched elites will respond to Dr. King the way Brady responded to Weiss. They think that Henry VIII will respond to the “truth” told by More or than the Birmingham police will respond to the “truth” told by King in the way Brady responded to Weiss. I tell you them will not.

Here is a “truth,” a narrative that is continually affirmed despite the clear factual evidence against it. The U. S. is among the most taxed nations of the West and out business success suffers because of it. That is a truth claim and it supports some proposals for taxation and undercuts others. So you an economist and you do a study of the comparative tax burden of western nations and you find what everyone finds: the U. S. in one of the least taxed nations in the world.

Now is your chance. You are going to tell these facts to the people who have been denying them. You are going to “speak facts to power.” People hold the “truth” they are holding for reasons that have almost nothing to do with factuality. Speaking facts to power is a waste of your time.

What is not a waste of your time?

Telling another truth is not a waste of your time. Producing a counter-narrative is not a waste of your time. These narratives will be impervious to the facts, of course. You don’t built truths out of facts the way you build walls out of bricks.

Let’s take this as a sample truth. The more nearly equal the incomes of a country are, the better will be the health of the population. A lot of facts can be adduced to support that. I recommend The Spirit Level: Why Greater Equality Makes Societies Stronger by Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett. The book version is more complete; the TED talk by Wilkinson, which you can see here, is shorter and easier to grasp. He shows in painstaking detail that for a whole range of desirable social outcomes—good health among them—the more nearly equal the incomes in the country are, the better the results.

That is a truth worth telling to power.

It can be attacked, of course. Counter-examples can be found. Someone can point out that the burden of the case Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett make is based on correlations. This level of inequality “correlates with” those health outcomes. It is tempting to try to say that the conditions the inequality supports “cause” the health outcomes, but that is a much harder case to make.

If you don’t think it is harder, look at how long we waited between the time when the correlation of lung cancer and cigarette smoking was established beyond debate and the much later time when some mechanism was found that could plausibly account for the correlation. For decades, the power of the correction was suppressed with anecdotes like “my grandfather smoked all his life and he lived to be 104 years old.”

What I am saying is that this truth—we could dramatically increase our health by narrowing the distribution of incomes—is a truth worth telling. It can be factually attacked and factually supported. But it is a truth worth putting into the arena with the current one, which is that the current provision of health and of medical care in the U. S. is the best we can do.

Liberals want to attack that “truth.” They want to show that it is factually incorrect. They are offended by unsupported assertions.  They want to speak facts to power. But the power is built on the “truth” that we have the best system we can afford and that in this system everyone gets what he or she deserves. The narrative and the power structure go together and neither of them cares about facts that do not support it.

What I would like liberals to do it to oppose that “truth” with another “truth,” which is that by reducing income equality, we can achieve much better health and much better healthcare. Both of those narratives—both “truths”—can be attacked and defended with facts. Neither can be defeated by facts. It takes a more comprehensive, a more important truth, the defeat a narrower truth.

So I say that telling facts to power will not do what we want to get done. To do what we want to get done, we will have to oppose one “truth” with another.

[1] huffingtonpost.com12/22/2015 10:40 am ET | Updated Dec 22, 2016
[2] It is interesting that the Greek work for witness is martyrion, from which English derives martyr.

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Weeding tares is way above your pay grade

The story Jesus told to his disciples about the wheat and the “tares” (a plant now called Bearded Darnel, as I understand it) is one of the least satisfying stories of Jesus’s ministry. (This story and all the others I will be using as references are in Matthew 13. ) I’ll tell you how bad it is. I once had a friend who was wearing a plaster cast and she developed an insistent and annoying itch inside the cast. “What shall I do about the itch,” she asked the nurse. “Do what we do,” replied the nurse. “Don’t scratch it.”

That’s how unsatisfying this story is.

Today’s question is straightforward: how shall we understand this story? There is an interpretive key I would like to recommend and one I would like to excoriate. You won’t have any trouble telling which is which.

Who’s asking?

There are three kinds of answers here. I am interested in two of them. The three are: a) who asked Jesus this question, b) who asked Matthew this question, and c) who in the story asks the question.

The answer to the first question is that we really don’t know and there is no real basis for informed speculation. That’s not to say that no one asked Jesus this question or that Jesus did not answer it this way. He almost certainly did, but the time, the place, and the asker are lost to us.

Furthermore, Matthew presents Jesus as a preacher of sermons. Very likely, Jesus wastares 7 not a preacher of sermons, but Matthew is really struck by the insight that Jesus is the new Moses. In order to make the parallel clear, Jesus needs to be a lawgiver and that requires that he give sermons, not just that he drop memorable anecdotes. So Matthew collects the Jesus material he has [1] into longer bodies of text; into sermons. And because these sermons are composites built from the Jesus material, we can’t tell the setting of any one part of the sermon.

But someone asked Matthew. This is a story Matthew draws out of the Jesus tradition to deal with a question that someone is asking. Matthew recalled this story because he thought it was a good answer to a question he was being asked or possibly a good response to the needs of the congregation he was addressing, whether they had thought to ask the question or not.

That brings us to who in the story is asking the question. We transition now from the uncertainties of history to the very direct evidence of the story. We know it was the field hands—servants, slaves, laborers [2]—who came to the master and asked the question because Matthew tells us that.

The tares as a kind of question

Matthew has grouped a lot of the teachings Jesus gave into blocks of similar material, so it might help us a little to see what other stories appear in this chapter and what questions they represent.

There are five other parables in Chapter 13 [3] There are: a) the sower and the seed, b) the catch of fish, c) the buried treasure, d) the yeast in the dough, and e) the mustard seed. The catch of fish (47—50) has a final division into good fish and bad fish, just like the wheat and the darnel. The buried treasure stories (44—46) say how great is the value of the Kingdom of God [4] and how worthwhile it is, therefore, to use all your resources to acquire it.

The other three can be seen as small encouragements to disciples who might be getting discouraged. Don’t give up, they say. It takes only a little yeast (verse 33) to make a big difference and a tiny mustard seed (verses 31,32) grows into a huge plant. And the seeds that are sowed don’t always produce very much (verses 3—9) because sometimes the soil is bad.

tares 8All of these are “don’t get discouraged” (DGD) stories. DGD, sometimes the soil is bad. It’s not your fault. Just keep sowing. DGD, some of the fish are unusable. Just throw the bad ones away and keep on fishing. DGD, it takes only a little yeast to raise a big lump of dough and only a little seed to make a tree so big birds can nest in it. DGD, no matter what this is costing you, the value of the reward is so great that it will be worth it. DGD.

So what questions are being asked?

All of Chapter 13 is given over to DGD, so I think it will serve us as a good interpretive background for the wheat and the tares.

Question 1 Why are there weeds in your field, master? Did you use inferior seed?

Answer: No, the seed was good. The weeds can be accounted for by the hostile actions of an enemy. This is not carelessness, as some of you have apparently been thinking. This is sabotage.

That seems pretty clear.

Question 2 So what shall we do about it?

Answer: Nothing. Tare discernment is way above our pay grade.

And this is why I said the story is so unsatisfying. Yeah, it’s the master’s field and all that, but it is where I work. And I have the master’s interests at heart. And as much as I value the wheat (low level long term appreciation) I am really angry about the tares (short term highly motivating emotion) and I want to do something about it NOW. “Do what we do,” said the nurse, “Don’t scratch it.”

At the level of the story, this is clear instruction at least. Agriculturally speaking, there is no question what is a “weed” because the farmer intends some particular crop. Other plants in that field are therefore “weeds.” But when we come to the theology behind the story—which is the reason Jesus told it and the reason Matthew remembered it— it’s not so easy. Let’s imagine that the disciples of Jesus, the field hands of the story, in announcing the coming of the Kingdom of God come across people who are preaching a different message or just a different form of the message. That would be a “wrong message” from the standpoint of the disciples.  It would  be a weed.

Why are those other people here? Some explanation needs to be arrived at which does not put the blame on Jesus. [5] This story gets that job done. It recognizes that there are weeds and accounts for their presence by saying that the Devil has done it. This is sabotage. You just keep on preaching.

The next question is what to do about the weeds, and particularly why doing that is a good thing to do. The servants in the story—the disciples in the Jesus movement—offer to undo the evil that they see being done. Jesus tells them not to.   Thinking of Matthew’s use of the story as a practical application, we are brought to asking why Jesus would not want his disciples to be opposing these other messages.

I don’t think there is any sound basis for speculation, but it may be that Jesus, as tares 2Matthew understands the message, is concerned about conflict among the preachers of the Way. If we think of the “weeds” as other interpretations of Jesus’s teachings, it may be that Matthew was counting on the continuing context of the Torah to keep the church together. It is only Matthew (13:52) who imagines both the old treasures and the new being brought out of the storehouse.

Or, if we imagine that the weeds are actual opponents, Matthew may have felt that it was too early for Jesus’s disciples to be opposing them. You just keep preaching what Jesus told you to preach. A later time will be better for dealing with preachers of “untruth.” That means “at the final judgment” in the story, but any later time might be good enough for Matthew.

But why wait?

It is the rationale for waiting that I find most intriguing. I summarized it in the title of this piece as “Way above your pay grade” and I did that because Jesus said it would be up to the angels to make the decision. “And,” he might have said, “I know that you are not angels.”

It is clear that the master does not want his laborers mucking about in the fields. Why? It might be because the two kinds of plants are so interconnected in their roots that uprooting one will damage the other. That would work for this story, but not for the fish (13:37—40).

It might be because you really can’t tell which is which until the head of grain appears. At that point, even the servants can say this one is wheat and that one is darnel. That fits really well with crops of grain, but the story is supposed to point to controlling the message Jesus is bringing about the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus points out in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 7:16) that you can tell what kind of plant it is by the kind of product it produces. Wheat plants produce wheat, barley plants produce barley. But it isn’t true about people unless who a person is going to turn out to be is a direct outcome of the person he is now and if that were true, there would be no need to go around preaching about the Kingdom of God.

What is equally true of wheat plants and people is that there will be a time when the natural outcome of that life will be judged. It isn’t now because it isn’t the harvest yet. And it won’t be you, for reasons the story doesn’t specify. In Jesus’s commentary on the parable, he says it will be the angels doing the harvesting, but in every version, the workers are told to leave things alone now.

Psychologizing the parable

So there are puzzles in applying this parable to what we imagine to be the present life of the church that Matthew is instructing. Still, the elements are clear: a) there is an immediate problem, b) this problem comes from an outside and evil force, not from God’s lack of foresight or provision, c) is it a problem that cannot be successfully dealt with now, d) at harvest time, the end time for a plant, when the plant has produced its fruit, is the time to deal with this, and e) the weeds will be utterly destroyed while the good wheat will be collected and stored.

Any application that meets those criteria could be said to be “applying” the parable. It would be hard, however, for an exegete, let alone a preacher, to say that all action can be safely deferred to the end time when it will be turned over to God’s agents. What is a preacher to do?

One kind of answer is to “psychologize” the story. That doesn’t mean just that we are going to talk about people rather than plants. It also means we are going to talk about motivations rather than actions.

tares 4I recently heard a sermon in which the preacher identified the “weeds” with “the shadow side” of the self, as Carl Jung calls it. Jung’s use of “the vast part of the self that the ego does not know about or will not accept” is broadly attractive in a lot of ways. It is hard to get a handle on, as you might expect, just as the Freudian unconscious is hard to get a handle on. But it would be deeply unorthodox (heretical) to identify the shadow in psychoanalytic theory with the weeds in Matthew’s story. The shadow side is an inevitable part of us and although it is “dark,” it is not evil.

The wheat doesn’t have a shadow side. The field has been infiltrated by weeds.The weeds are not part of “us” in the sense that they are part of each plant. And there is no “salvation” for weeds. There is only identification and then destruction.

A further difficulty is that once we have mixed the fields, with their good and bad plants, together with the persons, with their lit and shadowed sides, we can no longer predict what God will do. In other passages—none that I am aware of in Matthew, but it is common in the writings of Paul—there is the idea that the evil in us will be purged and we will be reckoned holy by the grace of God. God does not have, in any theology I have read, any constructive use for the evil in us. [6]

So psychologizing this particular parable brings us to a difficult pass. Taking the story in its context provides an analysis of the situation, but no real ideas about what to do. “Cool it” is not a proposal for action. Similarly, the time when this is all going to get sorted out—the end time, the harvest—when the angels will deal with the matter, also does not help.

On the other hand, if by psychologizing the parable, we can refer to those dark parts of ourselves—it’s hard to say in a sermon just what those might be—and to say that God has a use for them might feel very freeing. We are a mixture of good and evil, this line of thinking goes, and God has a place in His Kingdom for both the good and the evil. You see how that brings us some difficulty about God and evil.

For myself, I think I’d rather stay with Matthew’s use of the story and align all applications to those Matthew would like. But then, like Jesus, I am not a pastor and the effect on my congregation isn’t something I have to worry about.

[1] Scholars believe that Matthew had access to previously written sources as he composed his gospel. He certainly had a copy of Mark before him. He seems to be drawing on a “sayings source” known as Q (short for the German Quelle, meaning, “source.” And he seems also to have had access to another body of material, which Mark and Luke did not have. It is usually called M. Out of these materials, Matthew forms the “sermons” that Jesus preaches in his gospel.
[2] The Greek douloi is used for all those roles and for this story, it really doesn’t matter.
[3] A chapter doesn’t always define a “block” of material, of course, but it does here.
[4] The Kingdom of Heaven in Matthew’s account.
[5] Jesus says that God is the sower of the seed, but the disciples know where they heard it and their opponents are not casting their opposition to the message as opposition to God.
[6] There may well be parts of us we dislike or of which others disapprove, but if they are not evil, God may find a use for them that will surprise us. We need to look here at things God disapproves of, not things we disapprove of. If we persist in disapproving, we may be told to wait until the harvest and see what fruit is borne of them.

 

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Alyx Amber, Miss Portland 2017

I want to reflect a little today on Alyx Amber, [1] who is currently Facility Services Coordinator at Holladay Park Plaza, where Bette and I live. She is also Miss Portland 2017. I put her name in the first sentence because I want to start with Roger Federer, for reasons that will become clearer as this essay takes shape.

I was happy for Alyx when she won the Miss Portland competition and headed off to Seaside, Oregon to compete for the Miss Oregon title. But it never occurred to me that I wanted to write anything about it; to share Alyx’s journey with you. That happened when I was listening to an interview with Roger Federer, who at age 35, has just won the men’s singles title at Wimbledon.

Alyx 4I’ve been a fan of Federer’s for a long time now. It’s not just that he is a superb tennis player. I like the way he sees the game. I like the way he sees his life, with the game as part of it, rather than all of it. I like the way he admires and supports the other players, even while he is doing his best to defeat them.

That is going to sound a lot like Alyx Amber before I am finished here, but let me give you a little Roger Federer first.

How does this sound, for instance?

Sometimes you’re just happy playing. [Sometimes] you have to go back and think, “Why have I started playing tennis? Because I just like it. It’s actually sort of a dream hobby that became somewhat of a job.”

Or this?

When I was at a crossroads in 2004 and became world No. 1 for the first time, I thought, “Ok, do I want to stay there, or just enjoy the ride and see how long it lasts before it fizzles out?” I decided I would love to squeeze more of these moments and play the right way with the right mindset and the right flair, but also with fair play and also to represent the game well, which is very important to me.

Or this, from his post-finals interview at Wimbledon?

“…my heroes walked the grounds here…and because of them, I became a better player.”

Alyx doesn’t play tennis at all, as far as I know, but she understands the relationship between competition and life, between the journey and the destination, in a way that sounds like Federer. Alyx has great respect for the other people who are competing for the prize that is just as important to them as it is to her.

That’s not how she became Miss Portland 2017, but it may be how she was able to enter the competition with such a positive attitude. Does this attitude sound familiar at all? Below Alyx meets at the Seaside competition with friends from Holladay Park Plaza; from left to right, Auzhanae Upton, Latricia Jones, Xasha Upton, and Debra Jones. [3]

“On June 26, I will depart for Seaside, Oregon where I will compete for the Miss Oregon title one last time. I will compete with 19 other incredible young women whom I admire and am proud to call sisters. I have gained so much from this program not only personally, but educationally as well.

alyx 3

Alyx wrote that for the Plaza Review, our in-house newspaper at Holladay Park Plaza. That means not only that she approached the competition with a very positive attitude, but also that she wanted to share the experience with a lot of people at a senior center, all of whom probably think that if there had been any justice, she would have been chosen Miss Oregon.

That’s how we felt about it—some of us, at least. But that’s not how Alyx felt about it.

Tonight was incredible and this first picture truly captures the evening. I am so proud to be the 2nd runner up to Miss Oregon 2017, Harley Emery. I have walked away from this week with thousands of dollars in scholarships, the love and support of my family and friends and some of the best memories of my lifetime. Thank you to everyone who made this journey possible.

I met Alyx on February 23, 2016. [2] She was working at thIMG_0041.jpge front desk at the time and I was checking out Holladay Park Plaza to see if maybe Bette and I wanted to move there. I remember thinking that the lobby looked like the lobby of a really good hotel and I remember thinking that the woman behind the desk looked like she belonged in a really good hotel. I had been touring senior centers at the time and I had never visited one that caused that thought to come to mind. I liked it.

And as I was getting ready to take this shot, I asked Alyx if she would wave to me. I thought it would give some human perspective to the shot and would serve as a focal point. Alyx didn’t have any reason to do what I asked. I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me. But she gave me this wave and the smile that went with it. I was not surprised to see, last week when I first saw this picture, that she has that same smile. Here, it’s under a crown, and I think that adds a little something to it, but it’s the same smile. It is not, in other words, a “beauty queen smile;” it’s just Alyx.

Colluding with your competition

“I will compete with 19 other incredible young women whom I admire and am proud to call sisters.” That’s the way Alyx sees it. Note, for instance” “compete with.” I think I want to call that an attitudinal preposition. Mostly, you hear “compete against,” and although there’s nothing wrong with that, it points to a different attitude toward competition. “Compete with” means something different.

It is true in the Miss Oregon competition, as in the Wimbledon competition, that one will win the prize and all others will not. But Alyx told me that the women who had to change costumes quickly as part of the contest were helped out by the women who had the time to help them. The others—the “competitors”—laid out the clothes and helped the women on tight schedules get into them. “Compete with” allows that; “compete against” does not.

I was surprised to hear that there was so much cooperation among the contestants, but this wasn’t just a few unusually helpful women. Alyx said this is the way the whole competition was organized. The Miss Oregon pageant is under the leadership of two people, Stephanie West and Teri Leeper, who have an idea what a collegial and fulfilling competition would be like. It wasn’t like that in the past, when the women competed more aggressively against each other. So there was guidance from the top. Furthermore, Alyx was one of a group of women who had been in these contests for several years and were able to provide some leadership to the women who were there for the first time. “O.K., girls, “they would say. “Here’s how we do it in Oregon,” and go on to describe the elements of “competing with.”

It could be argued, I suppose that the goal of being Miss Oregon is so valuable that it would justify even an abrasive and bitter competition to win it. But if you can organize the competition so that both the journey and the destination are things to celebrate, why wouldn’t you?

And when Alyx says “ I have gained so much from this program not onlyIMG_4482.jpg personally, but educationally as well,” she is talking about the experience she has had. She is talking about the “journey” part of the competition, about the friendships with the other contestants, about all she learned about presenting herself, about, about taking a leadership role in making the contest what it was. These are things that she gets to keep no matter who wins. And when she won the Miss Portland crown, she crowned the journey with the destination.

Why I care about this topic

I would care just because I like Alyx and wish her well. That would be enough. But it is also important to me because I live here at Holladay Park Plaza where Alyx works and it will not surprise you to learn that there is a good deal of this same generosity and helpfulness here. I see a direct relationship between the kind of magic that transformed “compete against” into “compete with” in the way the staff relate to the residents here.

Here where Bette and I live, someone sits down with the staff and says something like, “Now remember, this is the way we do things at HPP. To make this the kind of place we promised to the residents, we have to keep it clear in our own minds.” Here’s an example. Alyx and her friend Debré Jones (far right in the picture of Alyx and friends at the contest) were explaining the relationship of staff to residents one evening last March. See the context of that discussion here.)

“You live here,”[Alyx] said, meaning me in my resident status, not me personally. “We just work here. It’s your home and we need to make it a good place for everyone. We do that, by putting the interests of the residents at the center of our concern. We want you to have the kind of life you had in mind when you chose Holladay Park. That’s our job.”

When I think about what that means to me, I almost think it gives me some insight into what it might feel like to be one of a group of “competitors” all of whom are helping each other be their best selves and do their best work. I do see the differences, of course. Because I am not a fellow competitor with Alyx, I don’t have the opportunity of returning the favor. It will never work out, the way it did in the contest, that she helps me when my time in tight and I help her when her time is tight. It isn’t like that.

On the other hand, it can be like that, apparently, among the staff here. Consider this:

Since the moment I began working at the front desk I have realized that here at Holladay Park Plaza, we are family. The love and support that all of you have shown me in my journey to Miss Oregon has been overwhelming and sharing this experience with all of you is so special to me

That’s from an article Alyx wrote for the paper that all the residents read. If it is really possible for the staff to work toward making our home—the residents’ home—the place they promised, it would require a staff that feels like family. From a family like that, you could get the support and the presence of mind to do your job. To do your job, as Roger Federer says, “in the right way.”

That’s how Alyx does her job. It was a pleasure to watch her do it long before she became Miss Portland.

[1] Properly speaking, Alexandra Amber, but it says Alyx on the name plate on her desk.

[2] I had no idea that was going to be a significant date and I made no effort to remember it, but there it is on the calendar in the picture.

[3]  I saw Alyx going to a meeting here is a really terrific looking black dress.  “Oh,” she said, “it’s Debré’s.  We’re the same size and the front desk people are pretty close.”

 

 

 

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He said, She said, and Russian Roulette

Rape is always a bad idea. Let’s start with that. On the other hand, doing “whatever is necessary” to prevent rapes–stop for a moment to consider what actions that standard justifies– is also a bad idea. Where do we go from there?

I would like to take a non-empirical look at policies bearing on sexual activity on university campuses. By “non-empirical,” I mean that this essay would not be affected in the slightest if it turns out that there is one false accusation of rape out of a million truthful accusations of rape or if it turns out that there are even numbers of true and false accusations. [1]  That is not what this piece is about at all.

This article in the New York Times says that Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos is starting to reconsider some of the Obama-era regulations. Some new balance is going to be attempted, apparently, so this is a good time to look at what “balance” means in this context.

  • Let’s look at the organized side of balance first.

“…advocates for victims and women …have spent the last six years waging a concerted campaign to educate college administrators, and the public, on students’ rights under the law, and how to combat what some have called “rape culture” on campus.”

It’s hard to think of anything good to say about a “rape culture,” which is, presumably, a culture that encourages or at least excuses the abuse of women by men. [2]

On the other hand, it is entirely possible that we now have an “accusations culture” which would also not be good.

“Rather, the accusations — 90 percent of them — fall into the category of ‘we were both drunk,’ ‘we broke up, and six months later I found myself under a Title IX investigation because she just decided that our last sleeping together was not quite right,’” Ms. Jackson said.

  • Then there is the rhetorical side.

DeVos 1All this is coming to a head now because Ms. DeVos (shown here) is bringing this balance up for reconsideration. The New York Times writers refer to the ongoing conflict as “a maelstrom.” [3] She wants to meet with groups who will be willing to represent the men, the disproportionately accused parties. Predictably, the women are not happy with the men who are being included, some of whom they call misogynists. I think it would be reasonable to assume that the men’s groups are going to call the women’s groups misandrists. English makes that pairing available and given the level of intensity this conflict has reached, it would seem almost odd if both were not used.

There is still the question of whether calling your opponents bad names is an effective political strategy.

  • And then there is the balance between the powers of the the Presidency and the powers of the Congress.

President Obama was fairly aggressive in using the powers of his office—not in changing the Congress’s approach to Title IX of the Civil Rights Act—to put the campuses on notice that they would accept the new federal programs aimed at reducing sexual assaults on campus or they would be rejecting the federal monies that would otherwise flow to the universities.

It would seem odd, I think, if President Trump did not make use of those same powers to try: a) to undo the gains of the Obama presidency or b) to restore at least the rudiments of balance between the accused and the accusers. Obviously, you can say it either way. The difficulty in both cases is that the law stays the same as it was and the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice, acting in the President’s name, makes whatever changes in interpretation their constituents require.

That is, as my father used to say, no way to run a railroad.

  • And finally, there is the Astroturf side.

In politics, they call it Astroturf if what is supposed to be a “grass roots movement” is entirely artificial. Women’s groups have been asking people to post their personal stories about sexual assault on Twitter, using the hashtag #Dear Betsy.

In the meantime, C. D. Mock, (pictured at the right) whose son was accused, says, “The young men who have DeVos 2been accused have gone through an absolutely horrendous experience,  They have had their entire world turned upside down.” He doesn’t say that he is promoting a Twitter campaign called #DearBarack, but if the Civil Rights Division is flooded with letters from women and men who have had their lives ruined by sexual encounters in college, that will be what I mean by an Astroturf campaign.

I tell my stories. You tell your stories. I ask for the electronic in-boxes of federal policy makers to be flooded by pathetic stories that illustrate my point. You ask for the pathetic stories to illustrate your point. At some point, the inboxes are all full and neither campaign has addressed the other.

If you learn that a friend of yours is spending his out of class hours in college playing Russian Roulette, you will have to decide when to tell him he is making a mistake. He does not begin to make a mistake when he pulls the trigger when there is a bullet in the chamber. That approach produces only stacks of tweets from people who didn’t die while playing the game and other tweets from the parents of students who did die. All the inboxes are full and no one has addressed whether playing Russian Roulette is a good idea.

[1] Ms. Jackson says, “Hundreds of cases are still pending, some for years, she said, because investigators were “specifically told to keep looking until you find the violation” on college campuses even after they found none — a charge her critics strongly deny.” Catherine E. Lhamon, who led the Education Department’s civil rights office from August 2013 through December 2016, called Ms. Jackson’s claims that investigators were told to fish for violations “patently, demonstrably untrue.” What I mean by “non-empirical” is that I am not going to inquire whether it was true or not. This piece is about something else entirely.
[2] The context of this whole discussion presupposes heterosexual relationships. There are difficulties of other kinds in other kinds of relationships, of course, but this article does not deal with them.
[3] No references have yet been made to a “femaelstrom” but the controversy has not yet climaxed so there is still time.

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Am I (being) depressed?

Today, I want to look at the kind of guidance our language gives us on depression, especially whether it can best be conceived of as active or passive. But before I do that, I have a very small admission to make. I have never heard anyone describe the experience of “being depressed” in the way I experience it. For me, most often, it is a conclusion I draw when I notice how my inner editor—a hypothetical agent over which I have no control at all—has organized my perceptions and my memories. “Oh, look at that,” I say to myself, “I am (being) depressed.” [1]

So my experience of (being) depressed may be unusual, but I think the processes I use to get out of it are pretty ordinary. Also, they have worked pretty well so far.

What the metaphor looks like

In the sentence, “I am depressed.” what part of speech is “depressed? I’m not all that good at this sort of thing, but I would say that it functions as a predicate adjective, as “orange” would in the sentence, “I am orange.”

depressed 5On the other hand, if you were the tongue in this picture, you could just as accurately say that you “were” depressed, but you would be referring to the effect that the little popsicle stick is having on you. “It is depressing me,” the tongue would say, “therefore. I am being depressed” Notice that “depressed” is clearly a verb now. The parallel sentence would be, “I am being strangled,” in which “”depressed” and “strangled” each describe an ongoing action being aimed at you.

So…I kind of like the verb version better. The adjective version describes you: remember that depressed = orange so far as the grammar goes. The verb version describes an action that is being taken and in which you are the object; remember that depressed =strangled.

And one of the reasons I like it is that it raises the question of the origin of that action. Who or what is depressing you?” The other version doesn’t ask that question.  And it leads fairly directly to the next question which is, “What can you do to get him/her/it to stop?”

I think that is a better question, but even that better form of the question is not quite as simple as I have made it sound so far. Imagine that I was going to an event that required wearing a tie and the dress code of this event required that the tie be really tight around the neck. Presuming that I am the person who tightened the tie around my own neck, the direct answer to the question “Who is doing this to you?” is “I am doing it to myself.” On the other hand, there is a distal force [2] that is not me and that requires that the ties I wear be really tight. So another useful answer to the question, “Who is doing this to you?” is “They are.”

I do feel pressed down (de + pressed) from time to time and this last time the experience struck me as having some interesting online parallels. I have three principal ones in mind. Let’s see how the similarities hold up.

Other Readers

If you order a book from Amazon, they will tell you that other people who ordered this book also ordered, or also looked at, these other books. A friend recently asked me to read The Wonder by Emma Donoghue. When I looked it up on Amazon, I was informed that customers who bought this item also bought Do Not Become Alarmed: A Novel, by Maile Melde and A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan, and Give a Girl a Knife: A Memoir, by Amy Thielen. These books are “brought into my view” together as a result of my looking up The Wonder.

You have to stop a minute to think how strange all this if you take it seriously. It isn’t mind reading or palm reading. Amazon’s computer is guessing that an interest in one book indicates a probable interest in certain other books.

Here is the analogy that struck me. I have lived a long time and have many experiences. I have organized these experiences into categories, although I didn’t do it intentionally and I don’t know what the names of the categories are. Here’s what I know: when I take an action or receive an action or have a vivid memory, a whole batch of “similar” memories and tastes and associations come to mind. If I do something really dumb, like asking a friend how his father is getting along only to find out that the father died over a month ago, I’m embarrassed. I get through the occasion, but after that—sometimes for days after that— I am bombarded by “similar screw-ups.”

depressed 6This is the way my inner organizer arranges my experiences for me. It is very much as if I had asked for a book called Captain Klutz and was referred to a list of books with that theme. Except these “books” are all about things I have done. These may be things I have never before considered to be related to each other, but somebody—whoever is organizing and presenting these other experiences to me—thinks they are related.

Coins

Imagine further that all one’s experiences can be represented as if they were coins with a heads (positive) side and a tails (negative) side. Clearly, one side of the coin is not more true than another. Let’s say I got tired of a job and decided to leave it for another one. But part of the same experience is that someone in the hierarchy had a grievance against me or thought I wasn’t doing my job well. “I got tired of it so I quit and went on to another job” is the heads side of that coin. “I screwed up and got fired” is the tails side.

When I do something like ask about my friend’s father who, as everyone else in the group knows, died last month, it is a faux pas. I am embarrassed. I apologize. But as I am walking home afterward, I see that all the coins have been turned so that they are all tails. These are completely unrelated events. There is the time I dumped tomato soup on my clean white shirt and the time I lost my cool and insulted an obnoxious guest and the time I went to a friend’s birthday party on the wrong night. Here I am, present in hand, and I am the only “guest.”

There is not, to my mind, any topical similarity at all. They are just things that this inner organizer gathers together and puts in a category of some sort and presents to me—like so many books at Amazon—one after another after another.

Peripheral Advertising.

A lot of web sites are paid for by advertising. They are able to customize the advertising to you because they know what you have been doing on your computer. Here’s an example that still makes me smile. I wrote an essay called “Attractive Older Women” and I searched around in Google images to find a good example I could put in the essay. Shortly afterward, advertising started showing up on the websites I used. These were ads “about” (not “from”) attractive older women in the Portland area who are looking for men who aren’t afraid of commitment. This went on for months.

depression 8Some one in the Gorithm family (Al, probably) is monitoring my use of the computer and notices that I was searching for images of attractive older women and concluded that I was in the market not just for the pictures, but for the women. I search for images every time I put an essay up on my blog site. I’d hate to think that each of these searches is taken as an indication of an “interest” that can be commercially exploited. But that is what I do think.

I think that if I wrote an essay about new cars—maybe I’m just studying what kinds of words are used to sell cars these days and comparing it to the words that were used when I was younger—pictures of cars on the lots of local dealers would start showing up in the advertising space. I think that’s how it works.

And that’s why I think the process might be a good indication of how that inner processor of mine works. The part of that process I’m thinking about in this essay is concerned about fears or anxieties or guilt of shame (now new cars or old women), but I think the process is analogous. I think there is something like an algorithm that monitors my experiences and serves up “related products.” I think that if I saw a situation on a local train and thought I ought to intervene, but then didn’t, I would leave the train feeling ashamed.

Words like “coward” and “culpable” and “complicit” and the pictures that belong to my life’s experience of those words, would start to show up in my mental “ad space.” I would think of times when I showed good judgment by not getting involved in someone else’s fight, definitely “heads” memories. And I would find that all those coins had been flipped over by this inner advertiser and now all those coins are tails. I remembered it as careful judgment, but when I look back, I see that it was cowardice.

I hate that.

On the other hand, looking at these coins and at these “suggested books” and at the peripheral advertising is the way I find out that I am depressed. Some people look “inside themselves” as if there were a tag or a sign. Or they just feel depressed. What’s the matter, Alex?” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m just depressed.” These people FEEL depressed. I notice it when I see that all the coins are tails up and the books are all about being a klutz. At that point I realize that however well I thought I did in responding to my friend, I realize when I see what “books” are being presented to me, that I must be depressed and it’s going to take a while to get “un-depressed.”

What I do when I notice

Sometimes it is true that I am being “depressed”—”held down.” It is also true that I wishdepressed 4 I were not being held down. On the other hand, I know what to do about it. It isn’t instantaneous, which would be nice, but it is reliably effective. There are things I can do that are kind of like “pushing back” or at least “getting out from under the thumb.”

They aren’t magic. I do things (actions) I am proud of. Sometimes I have to do quite a few of those. And I hang out with people (associations) who like and respect me. And I don’t talk about how I am feeling. I just let the natural effect of these actions and associations do what they always do.

And then I’m OK until I screw up again.

[1] I got to thinking about this kind of possibility when I read Daryl Bem, a social psychologist who said that what we call “insight” or “introspection” is really using the same kinds of clues about ourselves that our friends use. The example exchange I remember best goes like this. Q. Do you like rye bread? A. I guess I do. When I have a choice of breads, I always choose it.

[2] In my line of work, “proximal” is a word used to describe the immediate cause (the tie) and “distal” is used to describe the mediated cause (the requirement).

 

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