When Belief is Stronger Than Data

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We live in a world that is now, and has always been, shaped by competing narratives.  Maybe "always has been” is a bit too strong. We really are just guessing about prehistory. If our ancestors left the equivalent of their journals or Facebook pages lying around we haven't figured them out yet.  Some good guesses perhaps, but nothing really solid.  However once writing became the norm - hieroglyphics, cuneiform, and all that - the messages become much clearer, and sadly redundant. Many of the messages chronicle competition and carnage and most often the winner writes the history. 

The competitive narratives that sent our forbearers out upon the field of battle were most often commercial, political or philosophical in nature.  Someone had something, better grazing, access to a port, whatever, that someone else wanted. And, having been absent when their preschool class learned about sharing, they mounted up an army and rode out to take it - blood for treasure. 

While many conflicts were at least in part commercial,  they often were heavily glazed with a political or philosophical or theological patina. The "other" was "bad" and ones own people were "good." The reasons were often a bit foggy, but the result was sadly predictable - the bodies of young men (usually) dead upon the battlefield, and the bodies of civilians dead in the cities. And the victors writing the history. 

Most regrettable - certainly from a long view of history - is the fact that every so often a figure arises that fits the "monster" view of history that is used to justify war.  Hitler can claim that mantle - pure hatred of any "other" outside his narrow view of "one of us." The war to stop the spread of his diseased worldview eventually even drew active opposition from the poster boy of "radical pacifism," Albert Einstein. No doubt others can provide their own names from other times in human history that should appear on that list of "true monsters."  

The problem is that those horrific historical realities are used to justify making war on opponents whose only real transgression is that they wish to possess the same material benefits that we covet, or even more intolerable, they worship in a different manner than do we. 

Do not get me wrong. I am not arguing that the world is free of oppositional groups willing to drag the world into chaos if that is the price of advancing their perception of "truth."  What I do wish to emphasize is that such opposition is the product of a clash of beliefs in which objective data plays little or no role. 

Belief derives from a personal perspective that one is in possession of the truth.  Many faith-based communities draw their beliefs from a particular document - their "good book."  Problematic for life in the 21st century is that none of these dominant works were written in what is now the real world.  Rather they were philosophical works designed to explain a world millennia removed from the one that greets us every day.   

And that is, or at least should be, the shared goal of philosophy, religion and science: To advance our understanding of the present world and clarify the role of humanity in that world.  We cannot, despite the attraction of the perspective, declare existence frozen. I am afraid that the Christian doxology's claim "as it was in the beginning, it is now and ever shall be," simply flies in the face of the data of the experience of the last two thousand years. Similarly flawed is Islam's assertion that "truth" was finally decreed some 1400 years ago. Pick any ancient and revered text  from any faith and you will often find wonderful insight compromised, if not crippled, by a simple ignorance of the natural world. Yet it is often a work seen as a theological line in the sand beyond which inquiry cannot pass. 

Examine the intellectual position of a modern day fundamentalist - of any of the world's major faiths - and you find a mind willingly submerged in ignorance, shackled to beliefs coined by the best and brightest minds - of thousands of years ago.  Brilliances that struggled to discern the meaning of the universe from data which could penetrate no further than the next town, bolstered by fantastic tales embroidered by merchants who traveled the mysterious trade routes that probed beyond the near horizon. 

Science, philosophy and theology all should seek to create narratives that can lead us to a greater understanding of, and appreciation for, the staggering complexities of the universes.  But for those narratives to be anything other than fairytales they must rest upon everything we know about our universe - know, not simply believe. The sciences, physical and social, lead us to what we know and right up to the very edge of the unknown. Philosophy and theology should explore why what we know is important, and in doing so point science’s quest for what in new and unique directions. 

The problem, of course, is that the edge of the unknown can be a frightening place.  Global warming as a result of human activity? The Zika virus? A world population spiraling beyond our ability to feed all those mouths? An increasing demographic skew between the "haves" and "have nots" that points eventually to revolution and chaos or repressive totalitarianism? No, I'd rather not think about that. I would much prefer that you tell me a story in which I, or at least the group with whom I identify, plays the heroic role. 

And so those in power or seeking power do just that.  The recent American presidential election is only the most recent example of this time-honored chicanery.  The Trump campaign, whether attacking fellow republicans in the primaries or Clinton in the general election, crafted a narrative from xenophobic falsehoods and pseudoscience - alternative facts. It is a narrative in which Trump himself was cast as the only hero who could defend America from the alien hordes gathering on the horizon. Neither his republican opponents in the primaries nor the Clinton campaign could appreciate the impact of such a dark narrative on an American electorate seemingly fearful of its place on the world stage. 

When science works to provide the "what" to philosophy and theology's reflections on the "why," cultural narratives tend to be thoughtful and flexible. Data helps to guide and temper belief.  But when belief dictates what should be true, what science is permitted to address, the cultural narrative becomes a farce. That way lies madness. 

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Transforming the Vanities

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[While I think it works as a “stand alone,” this post will make more sense if you are familiar with Richard Adams’s novel Watership Down.  If you haven’t read it, your library should have copies. Printed versions tend to be a bit pricey, but it is a good book for your home library. I found an e-version on Amazon for about $5.00.  As a last resort Wikipedia does a nice “reminder synopsis."  But do give yourself the gift of snuggling down with the book for a nice winter read. It is not always a cozy read, but "all’s well that ends well.”]  RLS

When I heard, this past Christmas Eve, that Richard Adams had died, I promised myself that I would reread Watership Down. I used to show the video in my media criticism class, and upon recalling that it had been a VHS cassette, I realized just how long it had been since I had encountered the narrative.  The work is sometimes classified as juvenile or teen fiction, and often can be found on middle school reading lists. Bad call. I remember that when I wrote Taming the Wild Tube back in 1990 I specifically warned parents that despite being animated and featuring rabbits this is not a video for children! It will give them nightmares. My older daughter, a thirty-something attorney who just gave birth to her own daughter, would still have trouble with it. 

But having just finished the novel again, I am reminded that it is a beautiful, thoughtful, mature work. One is first struck by the grace of Adams' descriptive prose. It is painterly. Layer of articulate description follows layer after layer until the literary equivalent of a Hudson River School landscape emerges from the pages. Beautiful. 

My previous interactions with the work were pre-chord theory and Distilled Harmony. But it will surprise you not a whit to learn that my recent reading found harmonic resonances leaping from every page.  First, we need to agree that the work is not merely a story about rabbits. Rather it is an allegory, with Hazel, our primary protagonist working his way past a variety of challenges in pursuit of the transcendent harmony advocated by the mythological god character, Frith. 

I’m going to resist the temptation to launch into a “close reading” that would tickle my colleagues with a literary criticism bent - instead I want to play with the idea of what Hazel’s journey has to say about finding our own way to harmony. 

Adams makes it clear that, initially, Hazel seems a strange choice to lead a ragtag band of rabbits across the threatening English countryside in pursuit of a new, safe warren. Hazel is neither the most senior, nor the biggest, strongest rabbit in the band.  Others have prescient, psychic gifts, are better fighters, and are more skilled in rabbit “survival skills.” But Hazel has a unique gift - he senses how to turn flaws into desired attributes. Hazel values the unique characteristics of others and never insists on competing with the notes more obvious in others. Rather, Hazel realizes the value of blending those individual notes into shared harmonies that benefit of the entire warren. 

As I read the work it occurred to me that rather than seeing it only as a study of how individuals can work together harmoniously for the common good, it also encourages us to consider how we might blend our various “selves" together into a more harmonic individual identity. 

It seems the current vogue to assert that we all possess the same suite of abilities.  Just show up and you will get a “certificate of participation.” The reality is that we are better at some things than we are at others.  I had always believed that, given the time and opportunity, I could be a wonderful saxophone player.  So after securing my first full-time, real, tenure-track teaching position I went out and rented a sax and prepared to loose the new “Bird” upon the jazz world. It soon became evident that the best use for my saxophone “Certificate of Participation” would be to use it to gently wrap up the instrument as I returned it to the music store where it might find its way into more “sax-enabled” hands.  As I said, we are better at some things than we are at others. And it is those things at which we are most adept that come to structure and define our identities. 

There is a problem with this relationship between ability and identity. The problem is that the line between identity and vanity is very fuzzy. And the fuzz only gets thicker as our experience, and perhaps our peers, affirm the legitimacy of a particular facet of our identity. The slide into vanity is easy when given a nudge.  And, I suppose, a touch of vanity does no harm. After all self-esteem, a feeling of self-worth, is healthy. However, the link between vanity and identity can be problematic when vanity turns to arrogance.  

Two primary examples from the Watershed Down narrative:

First, rabbits are great storytellers, and throughout the novel Adams uses the stories to acquaint us with the rabbitkind's oral traditions and mythology. In one story we learn that rabbitkind’s precarious place in the world is itself the result of vanity sliding into arrogance.  El-ahrairah [In rabbit mythology El-ahrairah is the Prince of Rabbits] is forever bragging about the fecundity of “his people.” Lord Frith requests that El-ahrairah rein in the unchecked spread of rabbitkind. El-ahrairah responds with his usual “my people are the best in all the world” mantra. This arrogance angers Frith and causes Frith to divide the previously congenial animal kingdom into competing groups. Under this edict many animals become predators - “Elil” in lapine - leaving rabbits as prey who must be continually on guard, able to survive in this newly dangerous world only by cunning and speed. 

And then there is General Woundwort. Woundwort is the Chief Rabbit of Efrafa, a totalitarian warren that our protagonists encounter in their wanderings, and from whom the Watershed Down rabbits eventually steal the does needed to ensure the future of their warren.  Woundwort’s vanity regarding the invincibility of his prerogatives as Chief Rabbit and his own physical strength, makes this violation of Efrafa intolerable. So Woundwort leads a retaliatory raid on the Watership Down warren.  Hazel conceives a plan that leads the vicious dog from a nearby farm up the hill to the Watership Down warren just in time to catch Woundwort's warriors exposed above ground.  Those who are not killed, flee - except for Woundwort whose vanity cum arrogance drives him to fling himself at the dog hollering “Dogs aren’t dangerous!”  While his body is never found it would appear that Woundwort chose "death by Elil" - a voluntary, terminal confrontation with a lethal predator - in preference to any further damage to his arrogant self image. 

Hazel is the opposite of arrogance.  His leadership hinges on his ability to transform potentially negative vanity into skills that serve the group, while simultaneously freeing the individual from the constricting bonds of vanity.  It was this last part that struck me most in this recent reading of the work. How do we free ourselves from the constricting bonds of vanity? 

We live in a competitive world.  We may choose to believe that “certificates of participation” make everyone feel warm and fuzzy. That is, I am afraid, an illusion. As a young competitive swimmer, one of my daughters became intrigued with having at least one of each color of the ribbons awarded after each race. Competition, and her own evolving abilities, allowed her to collect every color but black - the ribbon awarded to sixth, and in the confines our pool, last place. She simply could not allow herself to intentionally lose in order to collect her missing black ribbon. Despite our attempts to “level the playing field,” our children quickly come to realize that they are “differently abled.”  

I continue to believe that that is a good thing. I like it that my oncologist seems to be at the very top of his field. I am simply unable to fix my car and so am pleased that others have that ability. I am delighted that university hires people far more competent than I to untangle the increasingly complex relationships among the various pieces of technology that enable my everyday activities.  On the other hand I would be loathe to let any of those folks edit these essays 😃  

Is that vanity? I don’t really know. I know it is not yet arrogance as I am quite able to read the works of others - like Watership Down - and be amazed to the tune of “I could never do that!”  So maybe a healthy perspective is to attempt to examine those abilities we do possess that may be inclined toward vanity - and the slippery slope to arrogance -  and assess not why this makes us better than those around us, but rather to reflect on how we might both improve the ability and use it to benefit the whole warren. How we can, like Hazel, transform vanity into a truly worthy ability. 

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Everything's a Waltz

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After the champagne has gone flat, the beginning of the year can be a trying time, especially in this world of digital processing and the Internet of things. After last year's flurry of massive hacks, a number of entities are asking us to change passwords or add an additional level of security with multiple passwords. My students have to log onto new course sites often encountering a "new normal" mandated by software "updates." Same with your "smarter than you are" phone. A visit to the doctor or your pharmacy often requires a new insurance card and a strong suggestion that you "go paperless" and conduct your business online. Ditto your bank. In short, the stress can be a bit overwhelming.  

This is where you think I am going to direct you to my coloring book and suggest you set aside time each day to color, meditate and relax. And that is an excellent idea, but it isn't where I am headed right now.  Rather I am thinking about a particular country song - or more accurately what we used to call a "country western” song.

No, I am not thinking of the “perfect country western” addition to You Never Even Call Me by My Name that Steve Goodman added for David Allen Coe so he could sing the perfect country western song. That additional piece goes like this:

"Well, I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison

And I went to pick her up in the rain

But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck

She got runned over by a damned old train”

Good for a giggle perhaps we admit as we smugly acknowledge that we really don’t listen to David Allen Coe very often - or country music for that matter.  Well, if you don’t you are missing some delightfully insightful poetry. And remember Dylan just won the Nobel Prize for Literature - something that no doubt has my parent’s generation spinning in their graves.  The lyric I am referring to is from an infectious little song [co-written with wife Patsy and Ron Peterson] that Ed Bruce sang called When You Fall in Love Everything’s A Waltz.  It opens like this:

"We don't dance the two-step anymore

All we need's a small part of the floor

The band can go on playin' almost anything it wants

When you fall in love everything's a waltz"

And here is the “easing into the New Year” part.  The notion is that your emotional state can transform everything around you.  So when you start running into all those “starting the year” hassles enumerated above, do everything you can to actually talk to a human being about your concerns, and make the conversation a waltz.  Remember, these folks are people who deal with complaints all day long. They are accustomed to people hollering at them.  Don’t be one of those people.  

When they say “How can I help you?” or just even “Hello.” Answer in three-quarter time: “Boy, I hope you can help me. I think I may have done something wrong.” That already disarms them as they are used to people assuming thatthey have not only done something wrong, but have done so with malicious intent.  I find they often respond to a waltz opening with something like, “Well, let’s see what is going on,” and then go out of their way to help you. 

Continue the conversation in waltz time, remembering that this is the person who can help you. Truth is I doubt that the person who answers complaints to pay the bills rarely sees that job as defining themselves. More likely there is a wannabe poet, musician, novelist, or struggling single parent on the other end of the line.  Inviting them to waltz through your problem may not only solve your problem, but puts a little waltz into their day as well.

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