What makes you "You"?

I have a friend at work named Alec. Today was the first time I've had a chance to talk to him since the New Year. And he told me his mother died December 20.

It was quite a story. Apparently it took almost a week to get her buried (although they are Jewish, and he explained that Jewish tradition says you have to bury the dead right away). First, ... December 20 was a Friday, but by the time she died it was after sundown so the mortuary was closed for the Sabbath. When he got a hold of them on Sunday they explained that burying someone, even in ground that is already zoned for a mortuary, requires a permit from the City (and of course the City wouldn't open till Monday). Then they told him they might get the permit in time for a service on Tuesday, but they might not ... and Wednesday was out because December 25 is a LEGAL holiday even for people who don't celebrate Christmas for religious or cultural reasons. So they held the funeral on Thursday. (sigh) On the other hand apparently she left her paperwork in very clean, simple order so that it was easy to transfer the bank accounts and other funds the way they were supposed to be transferred.

But one comment struck me. He said that her health had been failing for over a year, so that it was no surprise to anybody. Also her memory had gone, and she was suffering from dementia. But still ... what he said was, "When I visited her, I still had my mother there." She didn't have her MEMORIES. Sometimes she mistook Alec for his brother, or for her late husband, or for some other earlier husband that she NEVER HAD. But he talked about memories as if they were possessions, like furniture that you might abandon when you sell your house. (The comparison uses my words, not his ... but that was the spirit of it.) In other words, he said that even losing her memories didn't make her into SOMEBODY ELSE. She still had the voice, the character, the personality, the gestures, the particular phrasings, ... and he said that it was all of THOSE things that made her HER.

And of course the reason this struck me so strongly is that there is a long tradition of intellectual opinion that says your reason and your memories are exactly what make you You. In antiquity the Platonist school (for example) taught that suicide is morally wrong because our lives belong to the gods and not to ourselves, but they made an exception in the case where you can detect the onset of irreversible madness ... because in that case You no longer exist. And certainly I've heard plenty of people say, over the years, some variation on "When I don't know who I am any more, just pull the plug because I don't want to hang around after that" ... or else "because by then I'll already be gone and all that will be left is an uninhabited body" ... or something else that identifies US with our consciousness. Maybe this is what I get for spending so much time in schools, or around academically-inclined friends. Anyway, it's almost a commonplace in my book, and you've probably heard it plenty of times too.

And this is exactly the opinion that Alec denied. He said that her mind, her reason, and her memories were NOT what constituted his mother ... they were more like things that she owned, that of course she valued, but that she could give up at need without relinquishing what was fundamental about her. What he saw in her every time he visited this last year was something deeper and more fundamental than any reason or memories, something which told him that, in spite of everything, his mother was still there lying in bed talking to him.

That wasn't the center of what he said -- in 45 minutes that we talked he spent no more than a couple of minutes on this point. It's just me who has blown it all out of proportion because I think the implications are huge, and profound.

"Celine's laws"?

Yesterday I was looking up something totally legitimate and work related in Wikipedia, and after a couple of follow-on clicks found myself in an article that really wasn't … but that lists three "laws" framed by a fictional character written by Robert Anton Wilson. Maybe you know these laws by heart, but yesterday was the first time I ever saw them.

Part of what amuses me about them is that the first and third are quirky and funny (which I expected) … but the second is such an obvious piece of straightforward (but routinely ignored!) organizational advice that it ought to be burned into the flesh of anyone promoted into management. 

 

Herewith:

 

1. National Security is the chief cause of national insecurity.
2. Accurate communication is possible only in a non-punishing situation.
3. An honest politician is a national calamity.

 

And the article is here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celine%27s_laws.

 

For your edification and amusement ….

 

 

The function of the orgasm

I've never read Wilhelm Reich's famous book by this name. I don't know what he says. Probably it is a lot more complex than anything I have to say. Still, I've been thinking about this for a while and want to write it down.

Apparently there is a debate among evolutionary biologists -- or was ten years ago -- about how the female orgasm evolved. See, for example, this book review as evidence. Why only the female orgasm? Apparently the thought is that it is pretty easy to account for the existence of the male orgasm in evolutionary terms: it has an adaptive value because it encourages men to have sex ("with women" is clearly assumed) and therefore ensures descendants. But this explanation has trouble explaining why women have orgasms too. After all, they don't have orgasms every time they have sex, and an orgasm is not necessary in order for a woman to get pregnant. One theory is that they tag along as a by-product of men's orgasms, the same way men have nipples but don't use them for anything. But not everyone accepts this theory; and, speaking as a layman, I have to add that it is a pretty remarkable by-product which -- when it gets going -- is so much more powerful, more energetic, and more renewable than the primary phenomenon from which it is derived. Maybe that's not what biologists find wrong with the theory, but I think it will do for a start.

From my perspective, though, the whole approach is wrong, starting with the very first step. That first step, remember, is that orgasm is a kind of bait to lure us into having sex in order that we have lots of children who spread the desire for sex, thus having still more children, and so on. And I reply that using orgasm as a bribe to get us to do something (in this case, have children) is outrageously inefficient and unreliable. If the only point of sex were children, we could be prompted to do it a lot more often with a lot less fuss. Look at eating: it's necessary for life, and we do it because we get hungry. Look at sleeping: it's necessary for ... well, something, I'm not sure we know what but it is clearly important ... and we do it because we get tired. Any man, be he never so orgasmic, will over the course of his life eat and sleep far more times than he will have sex. So if the purpose were to encourage us to have sex (and therefore many offspring), it could be achieved with a lot less fuss by making sex an activity like eating and sleeping: one that we engage in because to avoid it makes us grumpy and uncomfortable. There would be simply no need for the ecstasy and sublime exaltation of the spirit that come from orgasm.

What's more, if the purpose of orgasm is to make us generate children, orgasm should be impossible from same-sex contact. It should be impossible from masturbation. Manifestly it is neither of these things. Therefore, mere reproduction of the species cannot be the real or ultimate purpose of sex and of the orgasm.

What is?

Let's look at how it functions. Orgasmic ecstasy doesn't just feel good; it's not just a reward. Orgasmic ecstasy makes love -- that is, creates or generates love where it didn't exist (or might not have existed) before. That is, orgasmic ecstasy binds us to our partner. This binding need not be exclusive: the history of monogamy is a very spotty one. But it is binding, all the same. And interpersonal bonds are the fundamental components that make human society possible. If we love each other, then -- other things being equal (and boy, is that a huge condition!) -- we are more likely to stick together. Note that it is possible to spin this as an argument for choosy, consensual nonmonogamy. I'm not going to push that argument but I recognize that it is possible and some people have made it.

For those who really want to ground any discussion of purposes in a Darwinian framework, the next step is to point out that humans are pretty much defenseless on our own. What gives us survival potential is our sociability, our ability to live and work in groups. Anything that sustains and encourages sociability therefore has adaptive value, and sex is surely at the top of that list. That sex is (of course) also useful in reproduction can be seen, in this light, almost as a useful side-effect, a case of nature generously giving us two benefits for the price of one. That said, though, the only plausible reason or purpose behind an experience as extravagant as orgasm has to be not merely children but love.
        

"Deeply held American values"?

I bet you thought I'd forgotten all about this blog, but no such luck.

So I saw a news item last week that has me grumbling about its least important part, just because I'm like that. You may have heard about it. Some Congressman was shot in a baseball park during a practice for the annual Congressional baseball game. (Me, I didn't know there was an annual Congressional baseball game.)
 

The Congressman was a Republican; the shooter worked last year for the Bernie Sanders campaign and his social media suggest a strong hatred of conservatives. Anyway, Bernie Sanders commented for the news, predictably enough, "I am sickened by this despicable act. Real change can only come about through nonviolent action, and anything else runs against our most deeply held American values."

And that's fine. I'm with him right up to the last six words. Only, … what does he mean by the words "our most deeply held American values"?

This is what I mean by niggling over the least important thing in the whole article. I'm not griping about anything substantive. I totally agree that violence against Congressmen is a terrible thing: bad in itself, bad as precedent, and ineffective to boot. Charles Sumner was nearly killed on the Senate floor for opposing slavery, but in the end slavery was abolished anyway.

But, speaking purely as an anthropologist … can anyone seriously argue that nonviolent political action is one of our most deeply held American values? The archetypal stories we tell ourselves about who we are, all focus on violence: the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, maybe World War Two … and Westerns. Think how important the mythology of settling the frontier is to our identity … but the frontier didn't settle itself. In what other country could a lone man identify himself as "The only law west of the Pecos"? Nonviolence? Us? We're the country that coined the poker aphorism, "A Smith and Wesson beats four aces."

Or consider that the gun debate in this country never goes anywhere because the anti-gun lobby won't — can't — mention that we are the most heavily armed country in the world. And I'm talking about private weapons, not the military. What possible difference can it make to fiddle with the rules about who can buy new guns when there are so many old ones already out there? But the anti-gun lobby knows with certainty that any proposal to change that status quo is a nonstarter. It has no chance of being heard. Who does that say we are?

I'm not saying any of this is good. I totally agree with Sanders that this is not the way to improve a Congress you don't like. That's what voting is for. But I am saying that it represents a deeply held American value. Am I crazy? Or is this something that everybody knows, but nobody wants to say in public?
    

Damn near the best article on ethics I have ever read

Joan Didion's classic essay "On Self-Respect".

Makes the point, among others, that what is critical is not that you avoid this or that misdeed -- she is clear about saying that people with self-respect still screw up, or screw around -- but how you deal with it, and with yourself.

Nothing else matters half as much.

The consequence of this is that ethics isn't really about doing good deeds or avoiding bad ones. It's not something you can do with a checklist. It's about who you are, at the deepest level.

You can find it here: http://www.vogue.com/3241115/joan-didion-self-respect-essay-1961/

   

Being enlightened doesn't make you right

The last few days I've been reading Mark Richardson's Zen and Now, a retrospective and commentary on Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Actually I bought the book a while ago but never finished it; and lately I've been browsing through it at random when I have a few minutes.

This morning I lighted on a paragraph where Richardson describes Pirsig's hospitalization for schizophrenia, an episode which Bob Pirsig himself described as "hard enlightenment". His wife Nancy commented that no-one who knew Bob -- besides Bob himself -- confused his mental illness with enlightenment. But she went on to say that she understood why he did. After all, once he had decided that he was enlightened, he no longer had to take seriously anybody else's contrary opinions. If she ever disagreed with him about anything he would no longer argue ... just stare her down and then walk away, because after all he was enlightened and she wasn't. So of course she couldn't be expected to understand why he was -- inescapably -- right.

Yeah, I get it too. It's a great solace to tell yourself that you are deep enough and smart enough to see into the true nature of things, while the trolls around you toil away in muddy confusion. But that's just a story ... one more of the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the world, one more of the stories which enchant us and intoxicate us if we take them too seriously. It's just one more form of delusion, subtly masquerading as freedom from delusion.

The point is that enlightenment is an experience. It can be a profound experience. But it doesn't make you God. Though you see deeply into the nature of reality, that everything changes, that attachment brings suffering, and all the rest ... none of that helps you remember any more clearly whose turn it is to take out the garbage. None of it helps you know what to say to your kid's teacher, who has called a conference because your kid is acting up in class. None of it makes you a better husband, or father, or employee, or friend. None of it makes you right. It's just an experience.

There are ways to build on it, of course. There are ways to build on all our experiences. If you wake up one morning to find yourself enlightened, there are libraries full of advice on how to live now: how to be compassionate, how to tell the truth, how to pick your way through the day without stumbling or falling back asleep. But, like anything, it takes practice.

That part is less exciting, of course. But without it, enlightenment is just another intoxicant.

"McFarland" again, or, The unrecognized virtue of poverty

There’s another point to make about the movie “McFarland USA”. It’s about poverty.

 

From time to time rich folks get sentimental about poverty. There’s plenty of literature that celebrates the poor man as nobler and more virtuous than the rich man. And like all deliberate sentimentality, it lies. There is no ipso facto virtue in being poor, and plenty of poor men through the years have been blackhearted scoundrels. One might almost think that some rich man invented this trope in hope of buying off the poor man with praise, to avoid being murdered in his bed or having to part with real cash.

 

But that’s not the whole story. While the trope of the virtuous poor is false, I think that at root it is not so much cynical as unskillful. There is something real that the trope is trying to say; it says the thing badly – it says the thing falsely – but the thing is real all the same. It’s just hard to put into words.

 

“McFarland USA” probably still oversimplifies, but it puts a part of this elusive fact into pictures. And what it shows is this.

 

On the one hand, poverty does nothing to inspire personal virtue. The school is right across from the jail, and we are told that plenty of the school’s graduates end up in jail before too long. One runner’s father is released from jail during the story. He comes home to find his unmarried teenaged daughter pregnant, and throws a violent tantrum. Another character admits he is a reformed gangbanger – his term, not mine. Some guys who are hinted to be his former gang members come looking for him, and there is a fight – offscreen – which leaves blood all over the street. And we see all manner of pettier vices across the community. There’s no more personal virtue in the town of McFarland than in any richer town.

 

What else do we see? Coach White’s wife is driving through town and her car overheats – or, well, something’s wrong with it that involves clouds billowing out from under the hood, we’re not told more than that. One of their neighbors runs a beauty parlor across the street from where the car stops; she brings Mrs. White into her shop, gives her a manicure, and gets her boyfriend to fix the car. Coach White had bought the team running shoes out of his own pocket – the cheapest shoes he could find because that’s all he could afford. The community families put on a tamale sale and car wash to raise money for better shoes and decent uniforms. Coach White forgets his daughter’s fifteenth birthday; but the community mothers band together to put on a quinceañera celebration for her.

 

None of this is about personal virtue. All of it is about helping each other – about social virtue. And this is what’s true about poverty. It doesn’t make anybody better. But it makes everybody need help. We have, deep inside us, a social instinct to help each other. Poverty calls it into action, gives us an occasion to use it. Poverty allows us the chance to help each other, and therefore – oh, so indirectly! – it nurtures an environment in which social virtue can grow. This is why Mrs. White – who hated the town at first (as did the whole family) – finally says that nowhere else has ever felt so much like home. McFarland, because it is so desperately poor, is a healthier community than any richer town could ever be.

 

Nothing is guaranteed. Barbara Grizzuti Harrison writes in “Women and Blacks and Bensonhurst” that in her childhood in Bensonhurst (nobody’s idea of a rich community) people made a virtue of minding their own business. If everyone in the building heard a gunshot from the apartment directly above yours, nobody would investigate and nobody would call the police because “We mind our own business.” A girl in her class had only one eye because her father had knocked out the other one while beating her with a broomstick, and nobody did anything. Poverty doesn’t guarantee that people will help each other. Poverty doesn’t guarantee a healthier community.

 

All it can do is to provide the environment in which a healthy community might grow, if not stunted by other forces. And there is deep inside us, somehow, a voice calling us to help each other. That’s the most we can guarantee in the real world. But even that little is good.