As with many other people, my awareness of social unfairness began at home. My parents pointed out and lamented the injustices that plague the lives of the poor—both individuals and societies. Coming from Latin America, we were acutely aware of our differences with the First World—which is to say, aware of the widespread impact of American culture, consumerism, and foreign policy. I was to learn much later that my parents had actually been involved in progressive causes earlier, but growing up, I did not experience their angst and concern being translated to action. Instead, there was always this attitude that charity was just throwing money away: a feel-good measure that did nothing to advance the systemic change needed to solve the root problems. That stance certainly has some merit (“teach a man to fish” and all that), but it can all too easily become an excuse for inaction and helplessness.

As I grew up and my newspaper reading shifted from the comic pages to the front pages to the editorial pages, my sense of urgency around social issues grew. What also changed is that I finally had money of my own: first my grad school stipend, and then a real, honest-to-goodness salary. I now had much more motivation and many more resources than I had ever had before, but I was still confused as to the best means to effect change. I gingerly became an online member of one or two national progressive groups (they were pursuing systemic change!). I soon became inundated with solicitations from many more. Most seemed worthy, and I had money, so I sent fifty dollars here, fifty dollars there, fifty dollars everywhere, and got a walletful of membership cards. But was spreading my money around really effective? Was there a way to become more directly involved in creating change without either giving up my day job or throwing money at the problem as though it were somebody else’s job to fix?

And then 2000 happened. The suspense and non-resolution that followed that election felt to me like the beginning of a nightmare, one in which (I’m ashamed to admit) I disengaged in despair for eight painful years. I knew that disengaging was not helping anyone, but watching the social and political discourse was just too painful, when all I could do—all I knew how to do—was wring my hands at my own powerlessness to make the world right.

But soon enough, I wasn’t alone anymore. I eventually dated and married Knox. One of the many remarkable things about him is how centrally he values reaching out to others and building community. He’ll stop to help or chat with a neighbor just because; he’ll organize a community harvest to glean fruit that would otherwise be going to waste; he’ll spend much time helping folks throughout the country organize Soup Swaps where they can rediscover the fun of cooking and sharing and telling stories. In short, through Knox, I came to understand more viscerally how communities get built from the ground up based on individual interactions. At the same time, I noticed that this community-building was also happening on the national stage, as the left began to coalesce around the Obama campaign. Thanks to what was happening at both the national and very local levels, I came to realize that by fostering community, the isolated helplessness to which I had succumbed could instead become collective progress.

And so this year, at the urging of my friend Jessan, I got involved with the the Next Generation Giving Project run by the Social Justice Fund. I was fascinated by the discussions we had around wealth, class, and privilege—a complex of topics I want to keep exploring. We learned about fund-raising: I wasn’t very successful at that, yet I was still pleasantly surprised at how receptive people were to my pleas. And we evaluated a heck of a lot of applications in a few short weeks. Every night I would grumble at how long that process took, and yet, when I read each application, I would feel guilty about my complaining when it was them doing the hard, amazing, often thankless work down on the ground.

Now, unlike most of the really great SJF members with whom I worked this year, I don’t have a background in social work nor, as you see, in activism. I can’t say “intersectional analysis” without feeling self-conscious. That makes me feel like a bit of an impostor among all of you here tonight. But I know I’m not, because of course this is where my social justice journey has taken me: SJF is working for systemic change, by channeling resources to effective groups while building and sustaining a community working toward a shared vision.

I don’t know yet what form my social activism will take in the future, but I do know that I take to heart the old Jewish saying: “It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but you are not free to desist from it either.”

Thank you.

This is well illustrated, of course, by folks like the town clerk in New York who resigned rather than perform gay marriages, which offend her religious convictions. (Whatever happened to “render unto Caesar…?”)

However, there’s another aspect to the private morality/public policy question that puzzles me. The media talks about the legalization of same-sex marriage as heralding a surge in gay weddings. Marriage licenses and civil marriages, I understand. But weddings? Are people really not getting married if the state doesn’t sanction it? Are we really acquiescing to second-class status? Has the wedding industry really been ignoring this market segment?

I’m not arguing civil marriage does not matter; of course it does. It matters a lot. That’s precisely why celebrating your union before your family and community, in defiance of a government that tries to render it invisible, is a radical, transformative, and liberating act.

The authors advance three lines of evidence in favor of this thesis. The first is based on observation of the mating behaviors of our close animal cousins. Most animals are not monogamous but most species have a limited and advertised period of female fertility during which the males are fiercely protective of their (generally temporary) mates and aggressive toward other males. Bonobos and humans, by contrast, hide the period of female fertility and use non-procreative sex as a way to bond individuals in the tribe. Moreover, this shared paternity makes males invested in the outcome of all children in the tribe and is hence more rather than less adaptive for the group.

The second line of evidence relies on observations (from the days of European colonization to the present) of peoples that still have a forager lifestyle similar to how it is supposed our ancestors lived. Many (most?) have a very fluid sexuality where sex with multiple partners is often not only permitted but expected. Children are considered the community’s children. The authors claim that it was the shift from foraging to agriculture (which they describe as the most significant event in human history) that led to a preoccupation with individual property and its inheritance (as opposed to the shared resources heretofore used). That, in turn, led to shrinking the sphere of sharing (sexual relations, child rearing, resources) from the community to the nuclear family. This is where the “standard narrative” of sexuality arose (men want to spread their seed as widely as possible, women want to make sure their man will provide for them and their children) and led to the inferior status of women that has historically plagued Western societies. As an aside, the authors suggest that, after agriculture led to the notion of property, property in turn led to the notion of poverty.

The final type of argument is the observation that if the “standard narrative of sexuality” were really as natural as its adherents claim, we would not need so many strictures so often enforced to guard against pre- and extra-martial sex: those behaviors would be rare. Moreover, the fluid sexuality model provides a better evolutionary framework in which to understand homosexuality: it survives in the group because it is a form of pair-bonding.

One of the interesting themes running through the book is how easy it is for scientists, both social and natural, to be biased by their own culture. Darwin himself did not venture to challenge the Victorian notion of marriage (though there are some suggestions he may have suppressed thoughts heading in that direction), while modern anthropologists and primatologists appear to contort their interpretations to make our notion of marriage inevitable.

I expect many people will dismiss or attack this book because it is threatening—threatening to the way we’ve constructed our lives and society, threatening to “traditional marriage,” threatening to our human exceptionalism. This perceived threat does not mean the claims are false, of course. Indeed, if they better describe who we are and how we got here, then perhaps we can better understand how hard it can be to live up to our cultural ideals, and be sympathetic to each other when we stumble.

Should we change our society in light of these findings? That is a more complicated question. Whether we like it or not, the fact is that we today are members of a society shaped by a history of agriculture, property, differing sexual roles, and a monogamous definition of marriage. These legacies will not disappear overnight; it is not clear that they all should (do we really want to give up agriculture? can we?). That said, some parts of our cultural legacy we have been succeeding in improving (slavery, women’s rights), and maybe marriage, the concept that tries to capture the essence of our emotional and sexual bonding, will get its turn.

For Seattle readers: One of the authors will give a reading next week.

For example, a child who does not want to play a board game and sweeps the pieces off the table spoils the game for everyone, but has himself achieved the objective of not playing (or perhaps of “not losing,” if that’s what prompted the outbreak).

A discussion with someone who refuses to debate rationally (listening and rebutting using logic) prevents either side from understanding the other better and perhaps being swayed, but achieves the spoiler’s aim of not having her beliefs challenged. Witness the various arguments with fundamentalists who refuse to entertain anything that challenges what they “know.”

Likewise, the goal of Congress is to debate, improve, and pass good laws for the benefit of society. The majority party, in particular, has an incentive to play by the rules to justify its dominance. The minority party, on the other hand, has an extraneous motivation to subvert the game: spoiling the interaction by being obstructionist and partisan prevents good legislation from passing while the other side is in power, supposedly boosting the minority’s chances for a comeback.

When the spoilers are few in number, their damage can be controlled: the child can be excluded from future games, the fundamentalist can be dismissed, the representative can be shunned and voted out. But what happens when a substantial fraction of the players are uncooperative? They just get their way, by hook (the other players giving in) or by crook (spoiling the game).

Is there a way out? By definition, not within the system itself. Perhaps the only way seems to be driving the proportion of spoilers back down—in other words, persuading people left and right that the fairest and most efficient way forward is together.

At dinner with some guys the conversation veered to the unfathomability of womankind. “My daughter asked me to translate from Boy to Human.” “I just always say I’m sorry.” “Women say they communicate more, but when they’re upset you’re supposed to know why. Or to ask.” Lest one gender get all the blame, I see plenty of gender finger-pointing from women as well in questions to advice columnists.

Obviously, there are biological differences between the sexes. The mind being rooted in the physical brain (I’m not a dualist), it is plausible that there might be some biological difference in cognitive processes. However, my impression of the studies that I’ve read in the lay literature—and bear in mind this is a pre-filtered and pre-digested set, not at all a metastudy—is that these differences are small variations in the statistical distributions of various cognitive traits: the distributions are not identical, but there is a large overlap.

I’ll admit that I’m biased here: I start from the assumption that we are all much more alike than we are different, and I find validation for my bias in these studies that say the differences are small. If you start from the opposite camp, though, you’ll certainly find plenty of literature to support (I would say hype) the chasm between the sexes: Mars/Venus and all that.

It seems to me, though, that any attempt at communication, at relationship, at progress, needs to start from the assumption that there is common ground. Attributing breakdowns to faults of the “other team” is an easy way out and not at all productive—and, potentially, a slippery slope to (or perhaps vestiges of?) gender inequality.

Why, then, is the Battle of the Sexes so prevalent? Perhaps because gender is the difference that most of the population (straight couples looking for or already in a relationship) is facing every day. Undoubtedly because men and women, individual personality differences aside, are socialized differently. Probably, too, precisely because it is easier to generalize incompatibilities to be the out-group’s faults rather than to work out specific problem between one’s self and another individual self. And, I would wager, it’s also a way to bond within one’s own in-group. All of these seem like building blocks of sexism.

But these are more conjectures than solid conclusions based on evidence or experience. The truth of the matter is that, as a gay man observing the heterosexual ecosystem, I find it utterly baffling that males and females of the species pursue each other to establish long-term relationships, and yet find in the other gender unbridgeable faults that would, by all accounts, make daily life together a grating affliction. And yet they keep doing it, complaining and pairing off!

So I ask my straight readers: is the “battle of the sexes” such a prominent aspect of your lives? Or am I just paying too much attention to the noisy self-righteous? Am I making too much of this?

Nasr seems to emphasize how all Muslims have this basic set of beliefs, and though some pervert them by being extremists (a la Taliban) and some forget them by being assimilated into the Western world, for the most part Muslims form one big brotherhood. While I am not an expert on Islam, what I’ve read from other sources makes this claim sound rather Pollyanish.

Still, this was an interesting (and even inspiring) read and I recommend it to anyone looking for an insider’s perspective into Islam.

One bureaucracy that irks me in particular is the post-9/11 security apparatus. The TSA keeps fighting the last battle: they check our shoes after the shoe-bomber incident; they confiscate liquids after the liquid bomb scare. One could argue that the TSA is trying to prevent known sabotage modes, I suppose. It all seems awfully reactive, though, and I worry that we’re not attacking the root of the problem, which could manifest itself in new ways we have not yet imagined.

Even more troubling is how this mindset has expanded into the public sphere. When I was going to museums in D.C. recently, the guards insisted on checking my backpack. Fair enough. The inspection consisted of glancing in as I opened two of the four compartments. I could have been hiding anything under the top items that they saw, or anywhere in the pockets that they didn’t inspect! What, then, is the use of these inspections? They are not really making us any safer, and I think that alone would neutralize any deterrence these policies might have. Are they simply reassurance that we’re doing something, even when that something is ineffectual?

Back to trimming the fat: when will these extra security/reassurance measures ever be turned back? Can things ever be as they were? Will we ever be safe enough to stop feeling paranoid? Will we ever focus on things that have a real impact, both assertively promoting peace and tolerance and defensively securing our real vulnerabilities (like, say, water treatment plants)?

Given that the current financial crisis was caused by people getting over their heads in debt, having a program that encourages people to buy more and get into more debt seems like a bad idea. People who would have made do are now getting new cars in order to make use of this great offer. Government largesse, however, does not cover the full cost of the vehicles, so many folks are quite likely spending more money than they otherwise would have.

By effectively lowering the retail price of the vehicles, the government is also distoring the true social costs of car ownership. If anything, car prices don’t reflect all the externalities of their manufacture and disposal. This program is further sheltering individuals from the true costs of their consumption decisions. The cars for which the subsidies apply are supposedly greener, but given that people already have functioning cars, it is not clear to me that the environmental costs of manufacturing new ones and disposing of the old ones are outweighed by the expected gains in fuel efficiency, particularly given that our consumer society gives these cars a very short lifespan before a new model “must” be purchased.

Moreover, it is becoming more and more obvious that the environmental crisis is coming to a head and will impose lifestyle changes on us during our lifetime. Now would have been a good time for the government to use this stimulus money not to prop up what could arguably be called a luxury industry that contributes to the problem by promoting an expensive lifestyle, but rather to encourage viable, practical, and attractive public transportation across the country.

For both fiscal and environmental reasons (and arguably ethical reasons as well), the government should be leading and inspiring us to “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”

What makes a skeptic? An outlook on the world based on the scientific method: the accumulation of empirical evidence and the continuous testing, retesting, rejection, and modification of hypotheses in light of that evidence. Scientists are human, too, and may be led astray by their own biases and quirks, but science is a long-term progressive process aimed at pruning away these false starts and tangents and leaving a coherent, predictive interpretation on matters of fact.

More skepticism would make our society better, I believe. As readers of this blog know, one of my major irritations is the sway that pseudoscience continues to hold. I am a staunch believer in freedom of conscience, so I don’t much care, for example, if people choose to be theists. What I mind is the use of superstition as a substitute for facts and rationality in areas where it matters, like public policy. You want to believe God created the universe in seven days? Fine by me. You want to pass that off as science in the schools? Unacceptable.

It was with delight, then, that I just finished reading Michael Shermer’s Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time. Shermer is the director of the Skeptics Society, a group dedicated precisely to debunking anti- and pseudo-scientific thinking, particularly in the public sphere (see this TED talk, for example). His book is a good analysis of the distinctions between science and pseudoscience and brief overview of some of the major battle lines in this front of the culture wars: the paranormal, near-death experiences, alien encounters, witch crazes, cults, creationism, and Holocaust denial.

In Chapter 3, Shermer talks about “how thinking goes wrong” for both scientists and lay folk alike, and how legitimate science attempts to self-correct in the face of these errors. Here’s his list, with my own annotations:

1. Theory influences observations
2. The observer changes the observed
3. Equipment constructs results
4. Anecdotes do not make a science. And yet so many people cite them as the bais for their beliefs.
5. Scientific language does not make a science. This is a major pet peeve of mine, people invoking the uncertainty principle and wave-particle duality to justify all sorts of mumbo-jumbo.
6. Bold statements do not make claims true
7. Heresy does not equal correctness
8. Burden of proof [is on the outsider seeking to overturn the accepted and proven scientific paradigm]
9. Rumors do not equal reality
10. Unexplained is no inexplicable. This is what really gets me about so-called Intelligent Design: I can’t think of how this complex structure could possibly have evolved, therefore it couldn’t have evolved, therefore there’s a designer.
11. Failures are rationalized. Failures advance science, but tend to be ignored in pseudoscience.
12. After the fact reasoning. *Post hoc, ergo propter hoc”
13. Coincidence. “Synchronicity” my ass. It’s simple probability.
14. Representativeness. The human tendency to remember hits and ignore misses keeps psychic hotlines in business.
15. Emotive words and false analogies
16. Ad ignorantiam. “If you can’t disprove it, it is proven”— the complete opposite of science. Applies to God , psychics, etc.
17. Ad hominem and tu quoque
18. Hasty generalization
19. Overreliance on authorities
20. Either-or. “If your theory is wrong, then mine must be right.” Is it supported by facts? What about alternatives?
21. Circular reasoning
22. Reductio as absurdum and slippery slope
23. Effort inadequacies and the need for certainty, control, and simplicity. Critical thinking requires training and work.
24. Problem-solving inadequacies. We tend to seek supporting rather than contrary evidence for our views.
25. Ideological immunity, or the Planck problem. As the old school dies out, new practitioners are better able to evaluate and embrace what were once revolutionary ideas.

[Shermer also has a chapter at the end on "Why smart people believe weird things," where he cites intellectual attribution bias ("my choices are rational, but your choices are swayed by irrational beliefs") and confirmation bias ("I block out contrary evidence.")]

I highly recommend this book as a skeptic’s manifesto and a reminder that we are not alone in fighting and bemoaning the ignorance around us. I will leave you with an inspirational quote from chapter 15 attributed to Alfred Kinsey (of sex research fame). This is a quote that I found a bit tangential to the points in the book, but which I like for the (perhaps unjustified) hope that with more skepticism perhaps we can make society more supportive of human dignity and differences:

Prescriptions are merely public confessions of prescriptionists. What is right for one individual may be wrong for the next; and what is sin and abomination to one may be a worthwhile part of the next individual’s life. The range of individual variation, in any particular case, is usually much greater than what is generally understood…. And yet social forms and moral codes are prescribed as though all individuals were identical; and we pass judgements, make awards, and heap penalties without regard to the diverse difficulties involved when such different people face uniform demands.

The premise of the show, as you may recall, is that Samantha, a witch, agrees to mortal newlywed Darrin’s request that she stop using her magical powers. She does, for the most part, though of course she slips here or there, or has to user her powers to fix the trouble caused by her supernatural relatives. Her goal is to lead “the normal life of a normal housewife,” doing all the chores manually that she could do magically. Indeed, fitting in and being “normal” is the central idea of the show, lest the neighbors, colleagues, or other mortals find out about Samantha’s magical lineage. And all for what? So that Darrin can maintain the dominant power position in the marriage.

Goodness gracious, the show is all about conformity! It’s not just submissive gender conformity in the Leave it to Beaver sense, though there’s plenty of that: women on the show are either witches, housewives, secretaries, or vixens. It’s conformity as a plot device: Sam actually aspires to be a perfect housewife and she strives to act like a mortal so as to not aggravate her husband!

Sam enters into this agreement with Darrin of her own free will, and it is not my place to second-guess private marital arrangements. I do, however, wonder what was going on in the writers’ 1960s minds. As Wikipedia notes, “some storylines take a backdoor approach to such topics as racism”—and indeed, in early episodes one finds statements that witches are people too, that what counts is on the inside, and that people are uncomfortable with “mixed marriages.” How quaint it seems now that these messages of self-worth were presented in the context of a show based on self-denial!

A gay-lib reading is even more jaw-dropping. Sam is a closet case who desperately wants to hide who she is and be the “normal” that is expected of her, yet she can’t help tapping her fabulous powers to right things. In all of this, there is one voice of reason and self-respect warning Sam that she won’t be happy if she denies her nature and urging her to embrace her birthright. Who is this? It is Endora, the meddling mother-in-law who is often the cause of aggravation, the anatagonist who we are set up to hope is proven wrong!

How delightful to look back with older eyes on childhood fixtures and better understand their complexities! Who would have guessed that the villain in this show would turn out to be the character that most intrigues me now? Who would have guessed that my judgement about the compromises in this fictional marriage is checked by an appreciation of the give-give that makes relationships work?