Sexual musings, Part 1

Empedocles missed his chance at greatness when he failed to give sex a place in his group of basic elements — earth, air, water, and fire. True, sex isn’t an element, but I don’t disqualify it on that account. It occupies our thoughts far more than earth, air, water, and fire combined.

Educated Fleas

The omnipresence of sex was probably best recognized by Cole Porter when he wrote, “Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it.” That scope is well beyond what I could manage in a hundred blog posts, and besides, my obsession with sex isn’t quite that strong. Dealing only with human sexuality is more than enough, and even then, quite a lot remains on the table. There’s the plethora of how-to manuals, moral diatribes, boorish humor, titillating fiction, scholarly research, manifestos of grievances, legal argumentation, and social history to consider — enough to inundate the world’s largest library. And you’d still have to dedicate another city block to a library for porn videos.

I can come to grips with this agglomeration only by focusing on social history, and here I discern two distinct eras of human sexuality, the Primitive Era and the Modern Era. The Primitive Era of sexuality began with the early hominins — like Homo erectus, obviously — and ended late in the last millennium, when denunciations of homophobia and misogyny began to multiply in the Western world.

The very fact that the Primitive Era coincides with 99% of human existence has made our thinking about sex rigid. Its duration gave credence to the assumption that everything believed to be true about human sex — the normal, the abnormal, and the abominable — will always be true. Unfortunately, this means the Modern Era is destined to take root clumsily, with grudging acceptance, occasional regressions, and some pendulum swings into dubious territory.

As you’d expect, the Modern Era dawned as our understanding of the Primitive Era came into sharper relief. We know now that same-sex sexual behavior occurs among all the great apes and a number of other primate species. Bonobos, who share 98% of their DNA with us, are especially noteworthy in this regard. About 60% of all bonobo sexual activity occurs between two or more females. Bonobo sex is casual and playful in both same-sex and opposite-sex pairings. It’s common, for example, for males to dangle from a tree, upside down and face-to-face, and rub their genitals together. Bonobos don’t merely engage in sex; they celebrate it.

Perhaps the most significant thing about primate sex is that anger and shunning have never been observed as a response to same-sex couplings. The same is true in a larger context. Homosexual behavior has been documented in hundreds of animal species with no mention of social abhorrence. This fact raises an essential question: Where does our revulsion and hatred for homosexuals come from? If it isn’t genetically determined, there’s just one other possible answer. It’s cultural.

Finding the cultural source isn’t difficult. The Torah is awash in sexual prohibitions. Mosaic law specifies 36 crimes that are punishable by death. Not a particularly high number as ancient codes go, but of that number, half the crimes involve sexual activity! The ancient Jews viewed nudity and the sex organs as shameful, unlike the Egyptians, the Greeks, and other contemporary civilizations. In Exodus, nakedness is forbidden within the precinct of a temple, and priests are compelled to wear linen breeches. In Leviticus, 12 prohibitions are about nakedness. It meant death to “uncover the nakedness of thy father.” A number of relatives are called out, including “thy aunt” and “thy step-mother.” It may be that the Jews were using “uncover nakedness” as a euphemism for “having sex with.” In any case, they stopped short of mentioning second cousins.

Scholars have speculated that Hebrew homophobia may have been a reaction to the religious practices of their enemies. It was common for Assyrian high priests to be naked or put on women’s clothes to acquire the powers of Ishtar, the Mother Goddess. Lower priests would prostitute themselves to male visitors to collect money and symbolically collect semen from the god Attis. The Babylonians and Egyptians adopted the god Baal, a phallic deity whose worship included homosexual rituals. The ancient Jews were revolted. They described themselves as a proud people. As monotheists, they were a singularity, and Yahweh demanded singular behaviors. He made a covenant with them, and in return he asked for laws that guaranteed the Jews’ piety, cleanliness, and purity. That was reasonable; an uber-God would ask for no less.

What Hebrew prophet could have guessed that the laws of their people would beget nearly three millennia of virulent homophobia? Virtually all of them scolded the Israelites for impiety. Imagine their pride and amazement had they foreseen the seminal power of Hebrew law! It spread to an outlaw sect, the Christians, and thence to the Romans, who dominated every civilization in Europe and the Near East, and thence to the Muslims, who pushed it deep into Asia, and thence to European missionaries and colonialists, who spread the virus around the world. Only now, in an age of scientific and historical inquiry, has the fever begun to break.

Misogyny is even older than homophobia. It didn’t originate in Canaan, but close by in the Fertile Crescent. The Agricultural Revolution was underway. People began to settle down and become homesteaders. Fear of starvation receded somewhat as people began to produce a surplus of food. They could store or trade what they didn’t consume. The population grew even though the need for farmers decreased. Towns arose, and much of the populace pursued trades. Some towns grew into cities. It was the first time in history that people accumulated wealth, and with it came leisure, art, science, and philosophy — civilization. It seems a rosy progression of events, but there were innate problems. What one civilization saw as its wealth, another saw as potential plunder, and so a warrior class became a necessity. Further, it was not enough to have a fierce army of protectors. They must have the favor of the mightiest forces of nature, the gods. Therefore, a priesthood evolved. With these additions, a civilization can become riven with complexities and lose its sustainability. Yet another class was needed to keep order, the elite. They were a natural extension of the warrior class. Their function was so critical to survival that they became objects of worship in their own right.

This progression, from hunter-gatherer clans to food-producing civilizations, wrought a societal transformation. Hunter-gatherer clans had usually been matrilineal, ancestral descent and inheritance followed the maternal line. But food-producing civilizations became patrilineal, just the opposite. This shift in sexual dominance was simply the result of acknowledging where the power lay. It was clearly with the men, who were stronger and more aggressive by nature. They were by far the more capable defenders and attackers. The viability of civilizations rested on their shoulders.

It’s a truism that those in power act to increase their power or at the very least perpetuate it. This was certainly true of the Primitive Era. Men formalized sexual relationships by inventing the marriage contract. Married women effectively became slaves and targets of abuse. Men took over the rearing of their sons and often took pains to make them tough, overbearing, and disdainful of women. Men no longer feared legal consequences for sexual assault. Men minimized women’s roles in any institution that wielded power — the military, the church, government, law, banking, the arts, science, and medicine. Men denied them the knowledge and power that a higher education confers. Men denied them the right to inherit, own land, buy on credit, earn an income, and retain money for personal use. In the Greek and Roman democracies, men denied them the right to vote. Millennia would pass before a wave of social enlightenment and women’s activism began to turn the tide.

Bring back the Inquisition!

The Spanish Inquisition was a stain on world history, but it needn’t have been. It was badly botched. An inquisition is, after all, merely a formal inquiry. There’s nothing in the term that connotes punishment, torture, or malice. It’s simply a search for facts. In more tolerant times, the Spanish might have gathered testimony on why Jews choose Judaism over Christianity and left it at that. Instead, their proceedings were poisoned by hatred. A calamity was inevitable.

We have learned better. We need to give it another go, but with an entirely different mission. Today, there are dozens of people who have tens of millions of fervent followers. They are political leaders, religious gurus, people of enormous wealth, and various others possessed of exceptional charisma. They command extraordinary power. From the standpoint of public safety, it’s imperative to know the histories of these people, the beliefs they hold, and the social agendas they support.

I propose that an alliance of governments, perhaps with the help of philanthropists, create an International Inquisition Academy (IIA). The academy would consist of acclaimed critical thinkers from all parts of the globe. Their task would be to interview powerful people and publish a transcript. It would have an addendum titled “Assessment,” where interviewees are judged on their credibility, honesty, and rationality. Instances of factual error, deliberate lying, evasion, and oversimplification would be called out. Regardless of the contents, interviewees would earn the IIA seal as evidence they had submitted to the extensive questioning of experts.

You may wonder why powerful people would agree to such an ordeal. They’d do it for the seal, a symbol that they had done a civic duty and had the courage to “bare all.” Any public figure who declines an IIA invitation would, in effect, imply they have something to conceal from the public. (The rules of the interview would stipulate that no question about sexual conduct is admissible, unless its intention is to reveal the interviewee’s hypocrisy.)

It may be difficult to imagine how an IIA interview might go, so I’ve chosen to do a mock interview of a popular holy man whose opinions have been widely published. He is the Dalai Lama, a title that means “Ocean of Wisdom.” He was born in Tibet in 1935, with the name Lhamo Thondup. Later, he took the name Tenzin Gyatso, meaning “Upholder of Teachings.”

What follows are the Dalai Lama’s essential teachings, shown in bold italics, and my corresponding questions.

A positive state of mind is not merely good for you, it benefits everyone with whom you come into contact, literally changing the world.

I prefer “constructive state of mind” to “positive state of mind.” What do you think?

Doesn’t a “state of mind” suggest a continuous outlook? Therefore, wouldn’t a “positive” state of mind be one in which a negative thought rarely intrudes? And when one does, wouldn’t “thought editing” be likely?

Do you equate critical thinking with negative thinking? What effect do you think this teaching might have on critical thinking?

Anger, hatred, and jealousy never solve problems. Only affection, concern, and respect can do that.

This seems self-evident, though I do have a quibble with “affection.” If one likes the parties to a quarrel, might that not complicate the path to the optimal solution. Wouldn’t substituting “cooperation” for “affection” make your observation sounder?

Remember that the best relationship is the one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

Are “love” and “need” attributes that can be isolated, or are they intermingled and hence unmeasurable? If they can be measured, by what means?

Does your observation apply to both sexual and nonsexual love?

What are the negative consequences if one needs more than loves, and have you observed them? Can one love to excess?

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.

You often insert “love” or “affection” when they are seemingly superfluous to your thought. Is it any less true to say “copulation and compassion are necessities for humanity to survive”?

Love and compassion benefit both ourselves and others. Through kindness to others, your heart and mind will be peaceful and open.

Isn’t this yet another vague use of “love”? Why not use “kindness” in both sentences?

Am I correct in assuming that love is a central concept in all your teachings? As such, doesn’t it behoove you to be an expert on the subject? Yet you’ve never been amorous with a woman, another man, or even a well-groomed Irish setter. What, then, is the source of your expertise?

Perhaps you’re thinking of love only in its nonsexual sense, as in parental love, friendship, or affection for a pet. Or do you have a kind of sibling love in mind that can somehow be mimicked with strangers? Do you agree that without much more elaboration of your conception of love, your teachings suffer greatly?

A sense of concern for others gives our lives meaning; it is the root of all human happiness.

This is a strong, surprising claim. What evidence do you have that it’s true? Should I conclude that all those driven to create art, pursue science, or make money are unhappy? What about the billions of people who live in the unreflective cycle of work-play-sleep? Are they unhappy, too? Is the entire Republican Party secretly miserable?

When you think everything is someone else’s fault. you will suffer a lot. When you realize that everything springs only from yourself, you will learn both peace and joy.

Are you asserting that each of us is the source of whatever we experience? If I’m mugged, am I the cause of it? Should I reprimand myself for my lost wallet, or should I report the incident to the police in hopes of preventing others from being mugged? What if I’m walking with a friend and we’re mugged together? Do we share the responsibility?

You’ve no doubt observed that acts of cruelty and brutality occur continually all over the world. Do those acts spring from me? This thought does not bring me peace and joy.

Never give up. No matter what is happening, no matter what is going on around you, never give up.

W.C. Fields once said, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.” What do you say to that?

Have you ever offered this advice to Donald Trump?

Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.

What was your thought process in choosing this as the “prime” purpose? Do you think loving people is a prerequisite for helping them?

Pain can change you, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad change. Take that pain and turn it into wisdom.

Is it that easy — just a wave of the hand? If not, what’s the process? Wouldn’t a genetic predisposition or some factor in one’s early life play a determining role?

If someone does not smile at you, be generous and offer your own smile. Nobody needs a smile more than the one that cannot smile at others.

Would you agree that people have a repertoire of smiles, among which is a perfunctory smile? Isn’t a perfunctory smile no more than a concession to good manners? Is this the smile you have in mind?

Who are these people who cannot smile to others? Even sociopaths, among them serial killers, are known to smile.

The greater the level of calmness of our mind, the greater our peace of mind, the greater our ability to enjoy a happy and joyful life.

Isn’t this a tautology? If not, you must be saying that “calmness” has plateaus, like “stillness,” “peacefulness,” “tranquility,” and “serenity.” How are you able to identify these plateaus?

Will sedation take me to a higher plateau?

Are you simply confessing that you’re a pothead?

The more we care for the happiness of others, the greater is our sense of well-being.

What evidence do you have that the correlation is continuous? Will our sense of well-being scale up as we drop more money from more helicopters? As we give more bags of groceries to more food banks? Is this a path to Nirvana?

True friendship develops not as a result of money or power but on the basis of genuine human affection.

Isn’t this a truism in virtually every culture? Can you say what genuine human affection is the result of?

When you talk, you are only repeating something you already know. But if you listen, you may learn something new.

Asking a question, speculating, negotiating, persuading, bantering, imagining out loud, and ordering from a menu are cases of talking, but are they cases of repeating what we know?

Further, if a listener is intent on learning new things, isn’t it necessary for teachers to repeat what they already know?

Women have the capacity to lead us to a more peaceful world with compassion, affection, and kindness.

Is this a cry of injustice at the universal practice of treating women as second-class people, or is it a claim that women have a special gift? Will you acknowledge there are politically prominent women who spread hatred and divisiveness.

Unfortunately, I can’t offer an assessment of the Dalai Lama. I’d need his answers and any followup questions and answers. I can say that I get a strong sense of honesty and goodwill. I see the influence of Buddha, Christ, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, but I also see oversimplification and a streak of irrationality at the heart of his teachings.

I hope that among my readers there are some with deep pockets and friends in high places. I’d like them to think of this post as my job application to the IIA.

Axioms

Mr. Dinkel taught me all about axioms in my high school geometry class. You begin with a set of self-evident truths — axioms — and from them you derive all the complex postulates of Euclidean geometry! I was astonished that so much knowledge could be derived simply by using logic.

Much later it occurred to me that each person is a kind of Euclid. Each of us comes to see the world as a set of self-evident truths and, consciously or unconsciously, each of us extrapolates a worldview from them. The difference is only this: when Euclid stated that the shortest distance between two points on a flat surface is a straight line, he was irrefutably correct. Our axioms, however, are different. They are self-evident truths to each of us but not necessarily to our neighbors, who have their own sets of axioms. And here’s the fascinating bit: the lack of a consensus about personal axioms does nothing to weaken our convictions about their truth. That’s one of my axioms — what you might call a “meta-axiom.” It makes coexistence challenging.

I was talking to my neighbor Luann the other day about the chaos that besets our country, and I asserted that clashing axioms were at the root of it. I thought I saw a glint of interest in her eyes, so I dared to ask a probing question. Here’s how our conversation went …

I’m curious about your axioms, Luann. Would you mind telling me what they are?

Well gee, Ken. I’m not sure I have any. I’d really have to think about that.

I understand. Because they’re self-evident, we don’t bother to think about them. But nonetheless, we have them.

Hmm … You say self-evident. Ah, … God exists! That’s gotta be an axiom!

It certainly has the ring of one. I suppose there are a great many axioms that go along with that one.

Yeah. Like God is good and all-powerful and all-knowing and loving. But it’s hard to go further because God is also mysterious.

What about all the ideas associated with God? Any axioms about heaven and hell and sin?

Oh sure, but for all those things I rely on the Good Book. It’s a gold mine of truths.

A lot of people agree. It’s must be a great solace to have God’s words with you.

It is, Ken, but you have to understand that the Bible has been translated many, many times. In each translation it gets a little corrupted, so it’s up to us to use some common sense when we read it.

Good point. Can you think of an example of how you use your common sense?

Easy. For example, ‘Thou shalt not kill!’ Now, that commandment should be, ‘Thou shalt not kill the innocent.’ If you want to say that like an axiom, I guess it would be, ‘It’s a sin to kill the innocent.’

Why would you add “the innocent”?

Because it’s obvious that killing the unborn is sinful, but killing a murderer or an enemy soldier isn’t. That’s the only sensible way to think of it.

Interesting. You know, to me sin is a complicated idea. There must be axioms that help you understand it.

It’s really not all that complicated. Here’s an axiom for you, Ken: Sin is anything offensive to God.

But Luann, why would God create people who where capable of offending Him?

Because God wanted people to have free will. Here’s another axiom: Sin exists because free will exists.

You’ve really got the hang of this! So God created a world in which it was certain that people would offend Him at times. And I suppose it was inevitable that some people would be more offensive than others.

That’s exactly how it turned out. You have people who are mostly pious and people who are mostly ungodly. It’s sad how so many people start out good but then their understanding of the righteous path gets all twisted. You might say they become twisted people, and all because of free will. Like I told you, God is mysterious.

It’s funny that you describe some people as twisted. It’s like you’re calling them perverts.

Good one, Ken! That sure sums it up. Yeah, all those people who say that baby killing is OK, and election stealing is OK, and needle rape is OK, but having guns is not OK — they’re perverts all right.

That draws a pretty stark line between you and “those people,” Luann.

Well, there is one! But, say. Now that you know so much about me, it’s fair that you share about yourself. Tell me about your axioms, Ken.

I could see she had me boxed in. It seemed I had to tell her the truth, so I did. I told her that my axioms were just the opposite of hers — no God, no sin, no free will, the right to an abortion, the need to regulate gun owners, the willful ignorance of Big Lie supporters and antivaxxers — the whole ugly contrast. Her face grew sullen. She stared at the ground and finally said, “Ken, I gotta go.”

Without another word, she turned and left. I was sure she was thinking the P-word.

Stories

Consider two lists of adjectives:

List 1: forceful, courageous, forthright, open-minded, gregarious, intuitive, insightful, droll, poised

List 2: bullying, posturing, dishonest, bigoted, self-absorbed, uninformed, clueless, clownish, impulsive

Would you believe both describe the same person? They do—our Presidential Stain, Donald J. Trump. Some people would choose List 1, others List 2. We can trace their choice back to the “stories” they’ve heard since childhood.

I use “stories” in the sense Yuval Harari, the historical anthropologist, uses the word. Stories aren’t just fairy tales, fables, and myths. They are anything not grounded in objective reality. What we call fiction is an obvious example. More significantly, all religious writings and derivative musings are stories. All the rationales for value systems; political systems; economic systems; sexual dominance; and caste, racial, and ethnic ranking are stories.

According to Harari, story telling is what differentiates humans from all other life on Earth. It’s the attribute that makes us the dominant species on the planet. The acceptance of told stories is what sorts us into tribes, communities, and nations. Stories are the sources of prodigious achievements and prodigious disasters.

Our brains process stories as as we mature. It seems certain that, whether inspiring or cautionary, they serve to transport values from one generation to the next. As they do this job, our identities form. We admire the protagonists and want to be like them. Mom and Dad and Pastor Adams and Miss Higgins, our English teacher, would certainly like that. Miraculously, we succeed, if not as heroes and heroines at least as sincere knockoffs. We become, at first unwittingly, followers of one stripe or another. There’s no shame in being followers. It’s a hard-wired inevitability.

But let’s bring our discussion down to a more concrete level. What kinds of stories would cause innocent children to become adults who think List 1 describes Trump? I’ll classify them for you. (Note: For now, I won’t investigate this question for people who choose List 2; there are no mental aberrations to discover.)

Biblical lore. The Bible loves to use misdirection in its tales of troubled times. The Jews are led out of bondage by a prince of Egypt. (Say what?) The Jews overcome the Philistines with the help of a kid with a sling. (No way!) God arranges for the salvation of mankind by impregnating the wife of a carpenter. (Please!) So why wouldn’t God drain the American swamp and make the country great again by working His will through a rich sinner? Truly, this is working in mysterious ways.

It’s no coincidence that Trump’s strongest support comes from places where time has stopped and Biblical lore is powerful.

The “Great Man.” Moses, David, and Jesus were Biblical saviors. Since then, we’ve relied on messiahs of a different kind to pull us out of the ditch. Mohammed lit a fire under a people with no coherence or direction. Luther put salvation in our own hands and redefined religion in the West. Napoleon made France great again and redirected European history. History is driven by great men, or so the story goes.

America’s contributions to the great man story are Washington, Lincoln, F.D.R., M.L.K., and perhaps a few others. Whomever we put on the list doesn’t matter much. The key idea is that others will come. At every point in our presidential election cycle, we ask ourselves the same hopeful question: Is he the one, our next great leader? It’s an obsession. (In America, it definitely must be a he. After all, it’s great men we cry out for.)

It therefore behooves every candidate for the presidency to create a sense of crisis and impending collapse, to convince the electorate that America stands at an inflection point, and to sell himself as a great man. A large dollop of preposterous lies makes for an effective pitch.

The “City on a Hill.” This phrase goes back to the Sermon on the Mount. The City on a Hill was Jesus’ flock. Centuries later, the Puritan preacher John Winthrop said it was the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Kennedy and Reagan made it all of America. And finally the Republican Party rolled it up into American Exceptionalism. A City on a Hill is a beacon to the world, an ideal for everyone to wonder at. It must be rich, invincible, and thoroughly admirable—great in every respect. The news that its citizens are being “played for suckers” and seen as a “laughingstock” is intolerable and deserves an angry response!

It isn’t enough, though, to reclaim the respect due us. The existence of a City on a Hill implies the rest of the world is a considerable step down. Many places are even—excuse the expression—shitholes. Their citizens, like rats leaving a sewer, will try to emigrate. We must use any means possible to protect our perfect purity from corruption!

The “Self-Made Man.” Great men will themselves into greatness. They’re like the ant in “The Ant and the Grasshopper”; the work ethic is paramount. They’re like the tortoise in “The Tortoise and the Hare”; slow and steady wins the race. They rely on the help of no one. Unfortunately, they’re often fixated on the prize to the point of ruthlessness and fits of temper. It’s OK, though. It’s the price we pay for a natural-born leader.

Often the self-made man is a rich businessman. America itself is rich, and how did it get that way? Through the entrepreneurial spirit of self-made men. Isn’t it simple logic that the leader of our nation should be a self-made businessman?

The “Man’s Man.” A man’s man is strong. In youth, he may well have been athletic. His will is also strong, like the self-made man’s will. He has a natural aura of authority. He makes his own rules. If he wants something, he takes it, especially if it’s sex. There’s no sin in it; nature simply made him that way. He’s widely envied because he isn’t a prisoner of convention. Even so, other men are flattered by his company and fancy he has extraordinary powers of persuasion.

If you believe America was the last, best hope of earth but for years has been wallowing in a crisis of leadership, if you’re praying a great man, a self-made man, a man’s man will come forward to rescue us—even if his resume says “builder,” “bon vivant,” “TV celebrity,” and “buffoon”—you are primed to accept Donald Trump as your savior.

The problem is, once stories bind you to someone in hope and admiration, a subsequent rejection is impossible without some trauma. It’s much easier to latch onto new stories, however far-fetched, that rationalize any dissonance in your connection. I call these “rescue” stories. Let me tell you about my favorite example…

Early this month, Roseanne Barr, who had transformed herself from a socialist into a Trump rooter, tweeted that Trump has been saving hundreds of children a month from sexual bondage. Out of the sight of the press, he’s been busy breaking up sex trafficking rings!

She got wind of this from 4chan, a group of online message boards. One of the boards, Anonymous, is for users who style themselves as “Anons” and imagine they are functioning as an “anarchic, digitized global brain.” The most celebrated Anon is QAnon. He (or she) boasts a super-exclusive “Q” level security clearance. It was QAnon who broke the story of Trump’s exploits as a savior of kidnapped children.

This is quite a scoop, but wait—it gets much better. QAnon suggested that what we think is going on in Washington is an illusion—Trump has an ambitious agenda and masks it with the persona he’s created in the media! This revelation inspired an ever-mutating fantasy on message boards, YouTube, and Twitter about the reality beneath Trump’s facade. He’s actually a role-playing genius. He’s pretending to be an irascible, ignorant bigot. His Russian contacts are real but a deception to win Putin’s confidence and lead him into a trap. Mueller and Comey are in on Trump’s con and abet it.

The apocalyptic end to this rescue story has yet to be written, but you can be sure the media will be shamed in the final installment, and Trump supporters will be vindicated. Hillary Clinton will descend into hell, and statues of Trump will be erected throughout the South where statues of Confederate generals once stood.

What’s to be done when around a quarter of the American electorate is off its rocker? Shall we put anti-hallucinogens in the drinking water? No, that would require a conspiracy and may have already been predicted on Anonymous. We’ll just have to wait until Trump leaves or is driven from office. Then we can reevaluate the depth of our national psychosis.

Horizontal hostility

I’ve been reading about a phenomenon that occurs between people who think almost alike. The “almost” distinction is critical. A narrow gap often gives rise to feelings of dislike, even stronger than the hostility between people whose worldviews have nothing in common. Freud gave this phenomenon a label, “the narcissism of small differences.” (Boy, did that guy have a way with a phrase!) These days, it’s often referred to as “horizontal hostility.”

An often cited example are the many vegetarian sects. They don’t like each other much. Hackles rise when they share company. This compared to a shrug and shake of the head when they see an omnivore in action. If you’re interested in seeing “the narcissism of small differences” run amok, consider this list:

  • Vegan. This is someone who eschews meat and anything derived from an animal. That means no fish or foul, of course, and also excludes eggs and dairy products, as well as honey, beeswax, and gelatin. Nor will they wear anything made from silk, leather, or wool.
  • Lacto vegetarian. Veganism that adds in dairy products—milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, and banana splits with hot chocolate syrup and a cherry on top.
  • Ovo vegetarian. Veganism plus egg products.
  • Lacto-ovo vegetarian. What you think it is.
  • Pollotarian. A lacto-ovo vegetarian who also eats poultry and fowl (that is, not really a vegetarian).
  • Pescatarian. A lacto-ovo vegetarian who also eats fish and seafood (again, not really a vegetarian).
  • Flexitarian. Someone who follows a plant-based diet but occasionally eats meat. (This is my favorite category. You get to eat everything and pay yourself a compliment at the same time.)

Having said all this, I think Freud kind of missed the point. Narcissism is about neurotic self-centeredness. Narcissists have a grandiose view of themselves, and they’re suckers for flattery. I think “horizontal hostility” is more on the nose. The anger isn’t about pomposity and the treachery of insiders who want to puncture it. It’s about the subversion of ideals.

Religion is rife with horizontal hostility. There’s the true believer and there’s the heretic. Catholicism is a brand of Christianity that rests on the intercession of priests and the hierarchy that maintains them. Protestantism is the heresy that the Catholic superstructure is irrelevant to the connection between man and God. Clearly, one view subverts the other and must be exterminated, or salvation is lost.

In the Shiite-Sunni conflict, it’s a question of legitimate leadership. Shiites believe that Ali, Mohammed’s son-in-law, and his descendants are the legitimate leaders of the Muslim world. Sunnis believe that heredity and legitimate authority are separate matters. So each believes the other has been lead into error for 1,400 years. One upshot is that they pray differently. Can Allah hear someone who prays incorrectly?

Of course, horizontal hostility pervades politics. The Freedom Caucus is fervent about so-called American values—self-sufficiency, small government, gun rights—and a kind of righteous bigotry. Other Republicans lean the same way, but mainly they serve money and choose re-election over principles. We can see the effects of this split right now. The Democrats are dealing with a similar schism. Their “principled” wing, a minority of socialists and progressives, is challenging a majority who support traditional popular causes to secure re-election.

I suspect that hostility unobtrusively saturates the professions. The medical field is tainted by self-importance, carelessness, and botched treatment, and the best doctors know it. They say little or nothing; they generally reveal their opinions only when asked about a referral. And then they go home and seethe, or so I believe. The same is true of lawyers. An unethical, indifferent, ambulance-chasing minority must drive the rest crazy. And so it is with teachers who just phone it in and those who are devoted to learning.

Even in our leisure pursuits we see idealists, who want to preserve the purity of a game, pitted against change-seekers, who want a break with tradition for the sake of more excitement. Baseball is probably the best example. Imagine the hysteria if the Commissioner of Baseball were to propose moving the pitcher’s mound five feet farther back!

I think each of us has a “passion profile.” It consists of the buttons that others can and can’t push. One can be a vegan and care nothing about baseball. One can be ultra conservative and have a diet mostly of junk food. One can be an ardent Sunni and not care what their children learn in school. And so on. Of course, there’s one passion profile that is perfectly aligned with all that is real and important. Mine.

Everything is connected

Everyone has a worldview, an elaborate story that explains how everything is connected. It’s likely there are dozens of worldviews, but exploring them would be an impossibility. I’d need a Ph.D. in anthropology, with a specialization in comparative religion and culture, just to make a credible start. So I’m going to paint with a broad brush for the sake of making a point.

The connections in any worldview are forged by pretty much the same forces. Foremost are our beliefs about the cosmos: what are its parts? how do they fit together? how did we get here? do we have obligations to a higher power? is death final? Then there are the beliefs of the culture we grew up in: what are the convictions of our elders? our ethnic group? our nation? Last, there’s the matter of class and privilege: why are the poor, poor? why are the rich, rich? what privileges are accorded to those who govern? what does social and economic fairness look like?

bomb in chainsMy thesis is this: People make these connections in ways that are explosive and bound to blow modern civilization to bits.

Consider, for example, our beliefs about the cosmos. For most of us, they are theistic, and therein lies a terrible danger: God-based connections inevitably create conflict. Religion is meant to bring inner peace, but what peace can there be with chasms of difference in matters of worship, ceremony, piety, penitence, reward, damnation, dress, diet, and so on. The disparity among theists makes intolerance inevitable. It begins with ridicule and denigration and moves on to distrust. It can thereafter morph into forced proselytization, and, in the worst cases, torture and genocide.

If we’re honest, we know how little this story has changed over the course of recorded history: the Christian heresies; the Shiite-Sunni split, as inflamed today as ever; the Great Schism in the Christian Church; the onset of the Hindu-Muslim conflict, still hot as ever; the Crusades; the Spanish Inquisition; The Reformation and subsequent persecutions; The Thirty Years War; the centuries-old religious division of Ireland, the millennia of Jewish persecution, from the Egyptians to Nazi Germany; the Muslim rejection of modern Israel; the Israeli mistreatment of Muslims; the radical Islamic rejection of Western culture.

Cultural differences, even in places where religious differences are negligible, have often had terrible consequences. You can look as far back as Athens and Sparta, enemies that shared the same language. All the wars of conquest were spawned by aggressive cultures: ancient Macedonia, ancient Rome, the Mongols, European colonialism, the French under Napoleon, the American “pioneers,” imperial Japan, the Turkish massacre of Armenians, the Second and Third Reich, the Turkish oppression of the Kurds, the Hutu massacre of Tutsis. Then there are the cases where cultural conflicts have been compounded by religious differences: the Turkish invasion of Europe, the English-French wars, the dissolution of Yugoslavia, the Iraqi-Iranian rivalry, the Saudi-Iranian rivalry, the Indian-Pakistani rivalry.

To complete a worldview, add perceptions of social and economic fairness. Some say the poor will always be with us; others, that they always have been with us, but we must nevertheless try to improve their lives. Some say we can do so by “increasing opportunities” (minimizing the role of government); others, that this gives prosperous and conniving people more opportunities to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor. Some say social stability requires that power is in the hands of an elite minority; others, that elites are inevitably corrupted, and their misrule results in social instability. Each side defines social and economic fairness differently.

There’s a broad spectrum of definitions among the governments of the world. In fact, in some places people live in a dystopia, where there is no agreed-to definition. Syria, Iran, Somalia, Nigeria, Libya, and Venezuela are examples. Others, like China, Cuba, North Korea, and Vietnam are ruled by a one-party elite that offers democracy in name only. Then there are places where the machinery of democracy exists, but an elite class nevertheless exercises considerable control over decision making. Examples range widely, from elites who restrict civil liberties—Russia, for example—to elites who, with legal cover, maneuver government within a framework of civil liberties—the U.S., for example. At the far end of the spectrum are places, mostly in Western Europe and Scandinavia, who have a social democracy in place. The upshot of this diversity is contention—contention for natural resources, for military superiority, for influence in world affairs.

The clash of worldviews should have destroyed humankind by now. We’ve been spared for only two reasons: our weapons were too puny, and distances between continents made aggression difficult. Note the past tense. Nothing any longer stands between our survival and our myths, prejudices, and drive to dominate. It’s a desperate dilemma, but there is a way out—a long shot, but all we have. It begins with an acknowledgment that we connect everything, irrespective of any direct experience of the things we connect. We must make the connections because our lives need meaning, and making connections creates meaning. What’s required are new kinds of connections and hence a new kind of worldview, hopefully one that’s constructive rather than destructive.

Obviously, we can’t summon new connections with a snap of our fingers. They have to be grounded in a plausible reality. Otherwise, they will never generate coherent meaning, and that is essential. Here’s how I would go about it:

  • Toss out theism for starters. Replace it with Naturalism. That will make our connections credible and release us from the worship of and service to the incomprehensible.
  • Teach appreciation of the phenomenon of life. Emphasize its improbability and the science that ties together all of life on Earth. Show how beauty, awe, and wonder, as presented in the arts, are reflected in representations of living things.
  • Teach what makes humans human as well as what is incidental to our humanity. Point out that sex, race, ethnicity, and culture are important to our identities but secondary compared to the fundamental fact of our humanity.
  • Teach that we need each other for survival, for diversion, and for richness in our lives. Explain that most undertakings, whether for building or sustaining, require cooperation.
  • Teach history in a way that demonstrates how privilege for a few, at all times and places, has been at the expense of many.

If my connections aren’t to your taste, no problem. In presenting them, I’ve probably gotten ahead of myself. For now, the chief objective is to agree that the connections we’ve had for millennia have led to a dead end.

Wretched excess

Saint PatrickWhen I opened my email inbox the other day, there, among the flotsam, was an ad from Amazon. Usually I zap spam the moment I see it, but this item had a title that pressed a button: “Get Ready for St. Patrick’s Day for Your Home.” I had to see more. The ad showed trays and dishes, both bearing a four-leaf-clover design; green dishtowels, body towels, and shower curtains; and a table runner also in a clover motif. Even a metal sign reading “Irish Parking Only” was featured. Obviously Amazon and other retailers think the whole public, not just the Irish, wants to bask in Irish pride, if only for a little while each year.

When I was a kid, I had to wear something green every March 17th. Otherwise, I was harassed. Now no one comments about the absence of green, but I still have a mild paranoia about it. Everyone’s looking for green and wondering why I won’t join in the fun!

What other ethnic groups do we indulge this way? Do we make sure to eat a burrito on Cinco de Mayo? We predominately speak English, and the foundation of our laws is English law, but does anyone know the feast day of St. George is April 23rd? We owe our freedom from England to France, but who can recite a single fact about St. Denis? Is Columbus Day celebrated as Italian Pride Day? Well, maybe by some Italians, but the rest of us think of it differently.

The odd thing about St. Patrick is that he wasn’t even Irish! He was born in Roman Britain, in what is now Wales. While on a sea voyage, he was kidnapped by Irish pirates. He escaped his captors but unaccountably developed a fondness for Ireland. Then he had a religious awakening and returned to Ireland to convert as many as he could to Christianity. I doubt he drove the snakes out of Ireland. It seems probable to me that he drove the devil out of his converts, so to speak, and we know the devil is a serpent. (In a way, so was the dragon that St. George supposedly slew.)

What about St. Patrick the man? Was there something in him that was “great-souled,” as there was in Mahatma Gandhi? No, he was just very good at turning pagans into Christians. Of course, this counts for a lot among Irish Catholics, because he was, in effect, their path to salvation. As an atheist, it isn’t a talent I hold in high regard.

However, this doesn’t mean I’m unimpressed by all the Christian saints. Several capture my imagination. Foremost, there’s St. Francis, who revered all life. To him, life was sacred in its own right. He sought to comfort people of every station. He was born into a wealthy family yet chose a life of poverty, I suppose to be more accessible to the poor and wretched. It was the life that Christ had chosen.

I’m also fond of St. Jude, also called Thaddeus. His original name was Judas, which posed an obvious problem. In no way did he want to be associated with Judas Iscariot. Nevertheless, as he spread the gospel, he was sometimes mistaken for Christ’s betrayer. He wanted to prove his usefulness so deeply that he would intervene under the most desperate circumstances. This may be why he’s thought of as the patron saint of lost causes. We all suffer from lost causes, or what I think of as broken dreams. There is a nobility in people who can empathize and comfort when they hear of a dream that will never be fulfilled.

The legend of St. Christopher, the “Christ bearer,” is also appealing. In typical depictions, we see him fording a stream, a staff in his right hand, the child Jesus perched on this left shoulder. His head is turned in loving concern toward Jesus as he grips him securely with his left arm. He’s the patron saint of travelers. In an effort to keep up to date, the Catholic Church has listed automobile drivers among those he protects! (I wonder if passengers on trains and planes are now included.)

But the Church has somehow missed what I like most about St. Christopher: his priorities. He knows that nothing is more precious or more worthy of protection than children. They are our legacy, our commitment to better days ahead. As I look at dozens of artists’ depictions, I repeatedly see it in his face.

Perhaps your cup of tea is someone who was your contemporary. That would be Mother Teresa, who died 18 years ago. She’ll be canonized later this year, probably as St. Teresa of Calcutta.  In 1946, while on a train trip to a convent in Darjeeling, she got the call: Leave the convent; live among the poor; comfort them. She sounds like a latter-day St. Francis, only she spent months in Patna getting basic medical training. Then she went to Calcutta and began caring for the ill, the starving, and the destitute. The rest, as they say, is history.

On March 17th, if you come across a one-day Irish wannabe wearing a silly, green party hat and a shamrock pin on his shirt, just recall the words of Mr. T: “I pity the fool!”

Helplessness

Helplessness is the defining condition of all life. It is especially so for human beings. We anticipate aging and death; we understand the concept of fate. Women know what it means to be born into a culture that denigrates their sex. People of color know what it means to live among racists. The poor know that their lives will be a battle with hunger, squalor, and shame. We all can be brought low or perish because of the corrupt games of the powerful or the capriciousness of warmongers. And, of course, disease and natural catastrophes can destroy our innocent lives.

We cry out for a defense against our helplessness, desperate for protection and some form of consolation. Is it any wonder then that we have invented religion? We have given ourselves not only a Protector and Punisher, but a conviction that death is not final. Unfortunately, there are many versions of this fiction, and the differences often provoke violence. It’s a great irony that this historical defense against helplessness only accentuates it.

Over the millennia, though, we’ve made other inroads against helplessness. We invented farming, which made starvation less likely. We invented medicine, which gave us better health and palliatives, and improved the odds against an early death. We invented the scientific method, which helped us to understand the physical world and realize that the unequal treatment of races and sexes is cruel and ignorant. We invented democracy, a political experiment that tries to avoid investing power in tyrants and oligarchs. We invented diplomacy so that nations can cooperate and coexist peacefully.

It occurs to me that the virtues of knowledge, resourcefulness, and cooperation offer a more plausible defense against helplessness than the pillars of the Christian religion: faith, hope, and charity. Knowledge is the opposite of faith. With knowledge, you can anchor your convictions in bedrock. Faith, on the other hand, is not only ignorance, but proud ignorance. Its roots are weak. Now and again, if you’re capable of honest reflection, insidious doubt creeps in, and then momentary despair, until your ego defenses rally.

Resourcefulness is the opposite of hope. It’s active engagement with a problem, in which you use knowledge and reason to find a solution. Hope, on the other hand, is passive. You give the burden of finding a solution to God, very likely through prayer. And having done so, is there a genuine expectation that your prayer will be answered? So many aren’t, and so you wait for the realization that God, for unknowable reasons, will not smile on you.

As 1 Corinthians says, charity is the greatest of the three Christian virtues. Cooperation is not the opposite of charity; it’s a tangential concept. Cooperation, to be effective, means walking in another person’s shoes, if only briefly. The word for this act is empathy, and empathy is at the heart of all charity. I think of cooperation as a broader idea than charity.

RescueThese contrasts bring a movie to mind—The Martian. On the surface, it seems to be no more than a high-tech suspense story, but I think of it as a modern-day parable. It skillfully dramatizes the virtues of knowledge, resourcefulness, and cooperation. A team of astronauts assumes that one of their party has died in a Martian dust storm. They reluctantly leave the planet, and then we learn their colleague has survived. He lives by his wits, but without a continual source of food, his days are numbered. How to rescue him? He struggles with helplessness, as do NASA and his Earth-bound comrades. As this ordeal plays out, not once do any of the characters call on God for help. It’s all knowledge, resourcefulness, and cooperation (extraordinary teamwork and an assist from the Chinese). In the climactic rescue attempt, we see scenes of people all over the globe waiting for news, in agonizing moments of empathy. The attempt succeeds, everyone rejoices, and the audience learns a lesson about values. Or so I hope.

In the 21st century, we have new reasons to feel helpless.  A warming climate threatens to make the planet uninhabitable. There are no adequate restraints on the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Biological and robotic innovations could sweep away governments and economies, and redefine our species. We have only one chance to beat back these nightmares—a widespread, fundamental shift in our values.

Intolerance

The kerfuffles late last month in Indiana and Arkansas confused a great many. There was broad agreement that the issue was intolerance, but what kind of intolerance? The Bible thumpers and the Republicans who curry their favor—pretty much the entire party—told us they were addressing religious intolerance. Of course, they were instead legitimizing sexual intolerance, and any other intolerance that could be tied to scripture.

In retrospect, I’ve realized that the RSA (Red States of America) had done it again! Uncannily, they made us blue-state dwellers feel like broad-minded, accepting people. I found myself basking in my superior moral vision. I had fallen into the trap! I was on the road to the kingdom of Holier Than Thou. There was only one thing to do: remind myself of the many ways in which I’m an intolerant person. I made a little list of my intolerances, which I’d like to share with you. In repayment for these confessions, perhaps you could comment on this post with your own list.

I am intolerant of:

The gun culture. This is the culture that comes to mind when the rest of the world thinks of “American culture.” We’re a nation of cowboys, all too eager to deliver justice out of a gun barrel. In truth, many of us abhor guns, but we’re in the minority. It’s those in the absurd majority who have created the American caricature. You know who you are. You believe an ambiguous anachronism in the Bill of Rights is the ultimate source of your freedom. The impulse to possess shiny, portable tools that go bang is irresistible to you. The fantasy of the armed nebbish who neutralizes strong and menacing bad guys is thrilling. Guns confer real power, and you don’t even have to fire them to feel powerful. Carry one on your hip, and you project power. Carry one in your pocket, and you have a delightful secret! Well, enjoy your illusion of power, but please stay away from me.

People who are guided by scripture. Religious scripture has an important place in the cultures of the world, as an anthropological record, as a historical curiosity, and sometimes as great literature. But certainly not as a model of the cosmos or as an unfailing guide to right conduct. If you think it is, you’ve adopted one of the infantile worldviews of bygone millennia, when superstition was the first line of defense against fear and suffering. So long as this sort of thinking holds the world in its grip, ugly divisiveness will plague us.

Wisconsin IdiotsPolitical ignoramuses. I admit it—“political ignoramuses” is pretty much synonymous with “Republicans,” especially in the last 15 years. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the leaders of that party actually seem to be getting more paleolithic with each election cycle. And it’s not just the leadership. The people who vote for them have also been whacked with the stupid stick. (A case in point is the adjacent photo, showing Scott Walker admiring a hard hat with a tattoo of St. Ronald.)

This might be comical but for the fact that by Election Day, 2016, the Democrats will have controlled the White House for nearly 8 years. Voters like to rotate parties, the issues be damned. Sooner or later, the Republicans will sweep everything and a Dark Generation will commence in America. I know of no way to stop it. I can only hold these bringers of darkness in contempt.

Hollywood studios and ad agencies. These are the people who tell us, on the big and small screens, what the words “attractive” and “likable” mean, and what it’s like to be truly alive and engaged in the moment. That is, “hip.” They have an easy task because most people, having only the slightest clue, are thankful for any information they can get. In fact, Hollywood and Madison Avenue don’t have much of a clue either, so they go for easy formulas. Young and sexy is attractive, fun-loving is likable, uninhibited is hip. So we have a society that’s divided between the inauthentic—people whose personas are the product of the commercial and entertainment media—and the alienated—people who are onto the manipulation but suffer from a social disconnection. One can easily imagine the destructive consequences of this cleavage but, in the last analysis, it’s OK. In America, taking responsibility is beside the point. If you’re making good money, it’s all good.

Those are my big ones, buy why stop there? I’ve got lots of petty intolerances, too. They are made of disapproval and bewilderment, pretty much in equal parts. For example:

People with annoying speech habits. I don’t go around clucking my tongue whenever I hear mispronunciations or bad grammar, but there are some errors that set my teeth on edge. For example, when people pronounce “niche” as NEESH. How did the pronunciation revert to French? Have all the pretentious people in the country entered into a conspiracy? Another one is “often,” with the T spoken. I can’t recall anyone pronouncing the T when I was younger. Even worse are the people who leave out the T but lengthen the word to “oftentimes.” I can’t take anyone seriously who says that.

The grammatical error I hate most is confusing “lay” with “lie.” Somehow “lay” became intransitive as well as transitive, a dual-purpose verb. It’s not as though I hear this error now and then; I hear it constantly, and in contexts where it should never come up. In physical therapy, for example. I’ve had three physical therapists in the past six years, covering more than two dozen therapy sessions, and in every instance I’ve heard “please lay down on the exercise table.”

People who send text messages. It’s wonderful that we can communicate so easily with others who are far away. We can send email to practically anyone in the civilized world. If we want real-time intimacy, we can call them on our mobile phones or use Skype. We can share thoughts within a circle of friends through social networking. Our lives are interlinked as never before. Tell me then, what need is there for sending real-time text messages? What does it add to the smorgasbord of communication services we already have? People who do it with regularity aren’t merely staying in touch. They are bonding in a way that submerges their individuality and reduces their power to think for themselves. What’s more, they can be a danger to themselves and to others, as when a texter hypnotically walks in front of a car or drives through a red light. Frequent texting is a scary neurosis.

People who tweet. I know celebrities tweet and politicians tweet. They want to be out there, accessible, down with the hoi polloi. Twitter is made for them. But why on earth do John and Jane Doe tweet? Their opinions count for nothing in this medium. All they do is move a “reaction” needle, and that means—what? Perhaps you think that tweets are informative or make entertaining reading. Nope. No important insight or news item has ever depended on Twitter to enter the stream of human discourse. In fact, the content of Twitter is pretty much a sewer. And who are John and Jane Doe, besides being ordinary folks? I think they’re people who just want to pop off, and then text their friends with “Hey, I tweeted. Yeah, the dress was definitely gold and white.”

Sports fans. I have to clarify immediately. I don’t mean people who participate in sports or have kids in sports leagues. Nor do I mean those who watch a half-hour of a sports event on TV, or an entire Super Bowl, or a couple of World Series games, or even several hours of the Olympics; they are merely curious spectators. I mean someone who is sports-obsessed. Certainly this includes body painters; people who dress as vikings, pirates, cowboys, cheese heads, etc.; and people who come out for games in freezing weather. It further includes anyone who holds season tickets for any sports team or belongs to a sports fantasy league. And I want to throw in all those who routinely bore their co-workers with day-after-the-game small talk and their friends with emails in the same vein. Not to mention those who daily read the Sports section, subscribe to Sports Illustrated, watch Sports Jeopardy, listen to sports talk on the radio, or ever watch a pregame, halftime, or postgame show.

Sports fans are in dire need of heroes. How did their obsession with heroes come to be? I wondered about this for quite a while, and then one day it dawned on me: sports fans have never achieved the escape velocity needed to leave childhood behind.

Having confessed all this, I’m nevertheless certain that St. Peter will not bar me at the Pearly Gates. If I ran a catering service and a gun-toting, semi-literate goon walked into my shop, wearing a Raiders jacket, a cross, and a “Cruz to Victory with Ted” button, I’d say in a good-natured voice, “Please come back without the gun, sir, and I’ll be happy to serve you.” As long as a person isn’t threatening or obnoxious, I’ll do business with him.

Contemporism

When people show an interest in my religious leanings, I tell them I’m an atheist. What I mean is that I don’t believe in the God of the Old or New Testament, the divinity of Christ, virgin birth, angels, miracles, heaven, hell, Satan, the soul, or salvation. Nor do I believe in the gods outside the Judeo-Christian tradition. Amazingly, many people think such a broad declaration doesn’t make me an atheist! They wonder if I’d accept the existence of an unconventional supreme being, some incomprehensible force that is Pure Love or the First Cause or That Which Is And Always Has Been. It doesn’t matter how many times I say no to such inquiries; there’s always one more. “Do you think God might be the undetectable dark matter that astrophysicists talk about?” “No.” I’ll stand by that answer, but I’ve recently realized there’s a better answer: “Spare me, please.”

Thinking about an afterlife or about a rebirth or about passing into some kind of cosmic glory is a waste of time. My concern is the here and now, where there is no shortage of epic challenges, fascinating ideas, and sensory pleasures. I don’t want to denigrate my experience of what is likely the only world I’ll ever know by spending a minute obsessing about old superstitions or whacked-out speculations.

I’ve tried to find a word that sums up this point of view, and so far the best I can think of is “contemporism.” It makes sense because it’s a form of the word “contemporary”—“belonging to or occurring in the present.” And a person whose focus is on the world we live in would therefore be a “contemporist.” I was happy with these neologisms for about five minutes, and then I began to wonder, What are the implications of being a contemporist? Would he value other times in history? What about the worth of art and science? Could he be bothered with them? And is there a connection between contemporism and human affairs in general? That is, would contemporism have an affinity for any political or economic system? It seemed like a good idea to have a go at these questions.

First, the question about history: Should a contemporist’s focus on the present exclude curiosity about the past? Well, if it did, he would be the kind of American moron we hear about now and then—a person who, for example, maintains Benjamin Franklin was our greatest president and believes World War I preceded the American Civil War. In fact, the past matters because “the past is prologue”: it’s impossible to understand the present out of context, and context is precisely what knowledge of the past confers. The same reasoning, by the way, explains why a contemporist must also be concerned with the future. The present is continually creating the context for the future. If a contemporist is indifferent about this connection, he might as well assert that the consequences of our actions don’t matter.

What about the arts? They would seem to give the contemporist a problem. After all, visual art, performance art, and literature are born of the imagination. Their subjects often deal with legend, mysticism, and fantasy. Shouldn’t such art be shunned because it isn’t about the world we live in? No, thinking of the arts this way is completely misguided. In fact, everything an artist creates is a reflection of the here and now. He holds a mirror up to the passions and preoccupations of his generation and reflects them back to us in an aesthetic form. He gives us a powerful way to see ourselves. If what we see is, in part, a belief in the unreal, so be it. It’s the truth, and we must deal with it.

Science is a tool for discovering the nature of reality. It empowers us to cure illness, feed the multitudes, power cities, communicate globally, and retrieve the accumulated knowledge of millennia. And for the contemporist there’s a bonus: science is a wedge that pries us away from superstition, freeing us to live in the present. I suppose you could say that, from a contemporist’s point of view, nothing could be valued above science because no other field of endeavor can match its potential for improving the present. However, science is double-edged. It’s also correct to say that no other field of endeavor has the potential for destroying the present. To be fair, this duality isn’t a property of science but a property of humanity, its practitioner. What to do? We can’t just say, “Science, be gone! You’re too dangerous.” So one of the preoccupations of a contemporist must be to understand the political and social implications of every scientific discovery.

more_to_life(Before I leave the subject of science, I need to spend some space on a connection between science and religion: they both deal with ultimate questions. Where did the observable world come from? Where did life come from? What happens to us after we die? Both ask those questions, but that’s just about where the similarity between them ends. Religion asks us to take its answers on faith. Science offers hypotheses and evidence. Further, science searches for ultimate answers in places where religion never treads. What are the ultimate constituents of our universe (not world), and how do they interact? How has the universe changed over time, and what is its destiny? What existed before the Big Bang? (Equivalent to the never asked, “What existed before God?”) Does reality have dimensions that we can’t perceive and, if so, what are they? Curiously, I react the same way to most of these questions as I do to religion: Spare me, please. I don’t care whether the universe expands forever or collapses back on itself. I don’t care if space-time somehow existed before the Big Bang. I don’t care how many dimensions exist that I can’t perceive. And I don’t care whether our universe is part of a multiverse or exists as a singularity. Nothing critical to our lives lies in the answers to science’s deepest questions.)

Last, the question about how contemporism relates to political or economic systems, if at all… I can answer it only by explaining why I chose “contemporism” over “humanism” as a label for my values. Humanism was in the running but it has a couple of connotations I don’t like. One is that humanity is essentially good. I think it’s absurd to put a moral label on humanity, good or bad. We can be essentially good only if God finds us to be, and we can be essentially bad only if Original Sin is responsible. But if there is no God, …, etc. I would therefore reject any political system that is premised on the moral nature of humanity. The other connotation is that some social mechanism should exist to ensure “distributive justice.” This means humanists prefer a society in which there are no incidental inequalities in the distribution of goods or wealth. That’s an admirable goal, but the bureaucratic costs of achieving it are unsupportable. Social justice, which includes distributive justice, is an ideal that can only be approximated. To do so, the law must take history and culture into account and prescribe what will most likely have socially constructive results. In other words, I would have humanists redefine themselves as pragmatists. When that day comes, I will no longer belong to a group of one.