Alternative Facts or Alternative World Views?

“The Trump administration and many Republicans are doubling down as the party that denies science and promotes 'alternative facts'. Maybe Democrats will step in as the party of truth, rather than the party of political correctness” (a Facebook friend's post).

I’ve been thinking about that term (alternative facts). It’s easy to mock--especially in the context of how Kellyanne Conway used it recently--as Orwellian. 

But if you think about it, most of us tend to rely on the facts that best suit our worldview. Some people call this confirmation bias, and maybe that’s what it is. Take, for instance, the climate debate. A person whose main concern has to do with the environment will quite naturally be convinced by the science that proves or disproves some aspect of this issue. Another person is more concerned about the economy. So the research he is most influenced by has to do with the impact any proposed solutions generated by the climate debate will have on the economy. In other words, what are the ultimate consequences of these actions from a utilitarian point of view? Which would result in the greater good, or the greater good to the most people? We can argue about long term vs. short term good, but to dismiss his response as anti-science or to denigrate the facts he relies on as bogus simply because they’re focusing on a different aspect of the argument is to set up roadblocks to discussion, compromise, and solution. 

This goes both ways. A person who opposes abortion because he believes the unborn fetus is fully human believes this based on evidence--ultrasound images, advances in fetal research, prenatal surgery, developmental biology. To this person, these facts outweigh the “alternative facts” from the pro-choice side. Both sides rely on facts that support their worldview, and both sides’ facts may be correct in terms of supporting or proving their argument. Unless the facts they use are bogus, or skewed, or unreliable, or dated, or whatever, neither side should denigrate the other side as anti-science (which is the implication of the term “alternative”). 

I think what I’m trying to say here is we need to stop putting up barriers to discussion by dismissing the other side (usually the Republican) as “anti-science.” This is particularly true in the climate debate. Recently, a climate-related story made major headlines, even “alarming” headlines (see images below) about 2016 supposedly being hottest year on record. 

Yet I appreciated the perspective of the Wall Street Journal editors in their  January 19 editorial on the subject (linked below), particularly their concluding remarks. To examine the evidence of a claim, to put it into perspective, to discuss whether or even if proposed solutions will do more harm than good, is not to deny science but to “add to human knowledge on climate,” as the editors put it in their final paragraph: 

"But adding to human knowledge on climate requires a thorough airing and debate over the evidence. That won't happen as long as alarmists continue to try to shut down debate by spinning doomsday tales about sizzling temperatures."

Keeping Cool About Hot Temperatures (Wall Street Journal editorial, January 19, 2017).

Feminists Go Low

It's a new year, it's a new world. Donald Trump is president (what the heck?) and feminists are nasty and proud of it. 

Hello, 2017.

It's the nasty woman thing that's on my mind this morning. 

It wasn't too long ago when the slogan of the left was, in response to Mr. Trump's incivil campaign and uncouth persona, "When they go low, we go high." In fact, it was Michelle Obama who introduced the phrase July of last year, speaking at the Democratic National Convention:

Very effective. A devastating rebuke to Trump and his supporters. 

So much for slogans. 

Michelle Obama may have gone high, but her sisters--at least, the sisters at Saturday's Women's March in Washington D.C. and elsewhere around the globe--went low. As in, into the gutter, low. They were as crude and uncouth as the man they condemn.

Way to keep things classy, ladies. 

I did not march on Saturday. 

Not because I march to the tune of my own drummer (though I tend to). 

Not because I don't much like bandwagons (which is true). 

Not because I don't support women's rights (but really, women's rights are not at risk, in spite of the over-the-top rhetoric). 

I didn't march because I'm not in solidarity with the brand of feminism this event represents. These women do not speak for me. These feminists do not represent me. 

Back in the 90's, Christina Hoff Sommers wrote a book called Who Stole Feminism? How Women Have Betrayed Women. One of the best blurbs on the back of the book is, "Sommers has done something lethally deflating to the pretensions of the shriller sort of feminists: she looked at their evidence and found it lacking." Sommers debunks evidence feminists use related to issues such as domestic violence, rape, wage disparity, and anorexia, to name a few. Her objective is not to minimize the seriousness of these issues but to peel away the hyperbole in order to confront them realistically. She writes: 

"Statistics and studies on such provocative subjects as eating disorders, rape, battery, and wage differentials are used to underscore the plight of women in the oppressive gender system and to help recruit adherents to the gender feminist cause. But if the figures are not true, they almost never serve the interests of the victimized women they concern. Anorexia is a disease; blaming men does nothing to help cure it. Battery and rape are crimes that shatter lives; those who suffer must be cared for, and those who cause their suffering must be kept from doing further harm. But in all we do to help, the most loyal ally is truth. Truth brought to public light recruits the best of us to work for change. On the other hand, even the best intentioned 'noble lie' ultimately discredits the finest cause" (page 189).

Sommers describes herself as an equity feminist, which she contrasts with the gender feminists whose values were expressed during Saturday's march by its most celebrated leaders (for a brief explanation of the distinction between gender feminism and equity feminism, go here). It's Sommers' brand of feminism that I identify with. She rejects the argument of the gender feminists, that "women are trapped in a sex-gender system, that gender roles are arbitrarily defined, and [that] the purpose is to convince women that they are victims." Rather, she embraces the "classical feminism that got us the suffrage, that got us equity in education, that continues to get us equality of opportunity" (I read these comments in an interview, which I linked below). 

Sommers critiques the gender feminists for being anti-man as opposed to being pro-woman. It's an important distinction. The face of Saturday's march was primarily the face of the gender feminist, full of rage and contempt. The rage was ostensibly focused on the new president. But as many have rightly noted, the march was not solely about Donald Trump. He's a convenient target--easy to mock, easy to revile. But what else did this march represent? Which branch of feminism did it champion? Certainly not Christina Hoff Sommers' branch--the gender feminists despise her. Certainly not the New Wave Feminists' branch. Pro-life feminists were prohibited from sponsoring the march. 

Where does that leave women like me? Feminism is a huge, sprawling tree with lots of branches. Where do I fit on this great tree? I was chatting with a friend about all this, sharing some of these thoughts as they were evolving and worrying about going public on this blog. She challenged me to think about what I hoped to contribute to this discussion. "What brand of feminism would represent you," she asked. "Do you feel the need to march with other like-minded women? If so, why?" When I suggested that maybe Christina Hoff Sommers should update her book or even write a new book ("Reclaiming Feminism" would be the title), she said I should write my own book. 

I was chatting with another friend who read these thoughts as they were evolving. "How does someone like you," she asked, "someone who doesn't feel the need to denigrate men but who supports the fundamental principles of the feminist movement, an English teacher with a shy side that steers clear of mobs, how does someone like you get your voice heard? Keep writing, regardless of the negative response it may generate! Use Twitter and Facebook to encourage greater understanding of the difference between gender and equity! And write that book!" 

Well, I'm pretty sure that won't happen. But if I did write a book, I might start with where this blog entry began: When they go low, we go high. The "face of feminism" that was presented to the world in the aftermath of Saturday's march was, to be blunt, vulgar. But, as I said, that face doesn't represent me. And I suspect it doesn't represent a vast majority of women who call themselves feminists. I happen to know many women who marched on Saturday. These women are not vulgar. Quite the opposite. They are kind, loving, honest, intelligent, thoughtful, courageous, decent, classy people. 

I'm sure each of us has different issues we care about. Our politics or ideologies may differ. But if there's a shared commitment among us to show respect for people of different races, genders (including men!), religious views, educational backgrounds, political leanings--in other words, if there's a shared commitment to "go high"--then these are the women I would proudly march alongside on a cold January morning.

I didn't see their faces splashed on the front pages of newspapers or cluttering the news feeds of social media. But this is the face of feminism I'd like to reclaim. 

******** 

The Future of Feminism: An Interview with Christina Hoff Sommers (Scott London)

Milo on my Mind

For some reason, the name Milo Yiannopolous has been appearing lately on my Facebook feed. I guess he's in the news a lot now that Donald Trump is president-elect and Steve Bannon is his chief advisor and Bannon is affiliated with Breitbart.com and Yiannopolous is apparently the technology editor at Breitbart so of course social media would be all a-flutter.

I've been remotely aware of Mr. Yiannopolous but not enough to have formulated an opinion about him. I know, for instance, that Twitter has censored him and that college campuses are banning him. Both of these should be enough to commend him. Then again, the rumors, the hearsay. Alt right! White nationalist! Racist! Bigot! Homophobe! (well, scratch that last one. See BBC interview, below). Maybe I should back away slowly . . . .

Anyway, the other day, on two separate occasions, I saw Facebook postings of a year-old article by Milo (the same article, coincidentally, about women studying science and math), accompanied by reactions ranging from sneering dismissal to consternation to outrage. Curious, I decided to read that article, as well as a few others. And as I did, something began to dawn on me. The guy was yanking our chains. He was making outrageous statements almost matter-of-factly. Isn't this one of the characteristics of irony? Saying one thing, meaning another? For instance, in the article about women and math, he wasn't attacking women. He was attacking something else, political correctness, the hypocrisy of social engineering. Where Facebook people saw misogyny, I detected satire.

But then I began to doubt myself. What if Mr. Yiannopolous was, in fact, serious? What if he really did think women didn't belong in the sciences (for instance) or on the Internet (for another instance)? What if these Facebook folks were right and I was wrong?

Fortunately, I belong to an online community collectively known as Ricochet, which bills itself as "the leading place for civil discussion of the center-right and beyond." As a dues-paying member, I have the privilege of initiating a conversation about whatever's on my mind. Today, Milo was on my mind. What better place to learn more about him than on Ricochet.

So I created the post, "Explaining Milo," which includes at last count 144 responses from the Ricochet community. Judging from the responses, I think my initial impression, that he's a satirist, is accurate. And while I'm not quite ready to label him a modern-day Jonathan Swift, I do think he's a provocateur. Many of the commenters on my post seem to agree, though there's some debate as to the efficacy of his approach.

It occurs to me that most people, both right and left (but predominantly those on the left), in taking Mr. Yiannopolous oh so seriously, may be missing the underlying significance of what he's actually saying. Maybe we need to stop freaking out for a moment, unplug our sensitive ears, and listen.

Explaining Milo (Ricochet)

The More Things Change . . .

Before I started this blog, I maintained another blog, which I called Ahem (dumb name, I know. The very first entry explains it). 

I maintained the blog between October 24, 2008 and January 1, 2013. Obviously those dates are significant from a political standpoint: The presidential elections of 2008 and 2012 get quite a bit of attention.

I'm linking a couple of my responses to President Obama's re-election in 2012. 

A Terrible, Horrible, Mistake (Election Day, November 6, 2012) 

Because (The Day After, November 7, 2012).

As you can tell, I was devastated. But what's interesting (to me) is that my reactions are really not much different from the reaction I'm hearing from people this week. Maybe not as over-the-top. And it wouldn't have occurred to me to protest. And I didn't curse (I don't think. Maybe once). But the emotion, the despair...

Plus les choses changent, plus elles restent les mêmes.

"The People Have Spoken--the Bastards"

Yesterday, Election Day in America, I boycotted Facebook, the assumption being that the Hillary people, already insufferable in their giddy expectation of her inevitable coronation, would be even more so the day of her coronation. And though I was never a fan of Donald Trump and agreed with all critiques of his character flaws and his shortcomings, I was never going to vote for Hillary Clinton, no matter how much the Hillary people chided and scolded (and chide and scold they did, day after day, ad nauseam). 

So all through the day and into the evening on November 8, 2016, I cut a wide swath, not only boycotting Facebook, but also Twitter and radio and live TV and chat rooms and even my phone, not even wanting to see a notification. Instead I watched an episode of "Blacklist", and then a repeat of "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives." When that was finished, I glanced at the clock. It was only 8:30. Damn. Now what. 

So I finally relented and texted a couple of my political junkie friends. 

"Just checking in," I wrote. "What's happening out there?" 

"Turn on your T.V.!" they said. 

And then, of course, the shock, the surprise, the unexpected, the bizarre. 

And before the night was over (well, technically, closer to the wee hours of November 9th), not only had Donald Trump won the presidency, beating his opponent 279-228 in the Electoral College (though losing in the popular vote by 200,000, last I heard), but the GOP also retained majorities in both houses of Congress.

This is no small matter. We (Republicans) had been bracing ourselves for months for losses from top to bottom. The gloom that had settled over many of us, the demoralization, the resignation, was beyond palpable. As election day neared, Trump at best had a 35% chance of winning the presidency, though all the so-called paths to an Electoral College victory were razor-thin. Not only that, his impending loss was supposed to hurt GOP races in the House and Senate and governorships and state legislatures, all the way down ballot. In other words, Election 2016 was supposed to be a tsunami of defeat, a once-and-for-all repudiation of and end to the Republican party. 

So yes, most of us expected the worst, were resigned to the worst, maybe even believed we deserved the worst, especially those of us who were already frustrated and disappointed about the situation. We had lined up our best and our brightest, a deep bench, indeed, including my personal favorites, Marco and Carly. But one by one they fell, knocked ruthlessly aside or, in some cases, stepping nimbly aside, until there was only one man standing, and that man was Trump, Trump the buffoon, Trump the narcissist, Trump the con, Trump the boor. We seethed with resentment because this was supposed to have been our year. So many of us were weary of Obama's executive overreach, his condescension, his divisiveness, and Hillary Clinton was such a weak and beatable opponent. Any of those 17 candidates could have beaten her. Anyone, that is, but Donald Trump. We knew that. We of all people understood that. What is he doing on that stage? Get rid of him now!

Which is why, watching last night's remarkable events unfold, one can only marvel in disbelief at an outcome that never even occurred to us. A Clinton win was a given. The best many of us hoped for was that the GOP would retain majorities in Congress in order to keep her in check. But Trump won. The GOP held on to their majorities in both houses of Congress. I don't know how it happened. This is for historians and pundits and analysts to explain. All I know is that yesterday, for good or for ill, was a political earthquake. And it's becoming clear that, while Donald Trump may not have been our first, our second, even our 17th choice, in the end it appears he was possibly the only one out of that distinguished crowd of 17 who had the chutzpah, the ego, the stomach, the nerves of steel, to take on the formidable Clinton machine and the media who openly and unapologetically supported her--and beat Hillary Clinton at her own game. 

So now, today, The Day After, I venture cautiously back into Facebook, not to contribute, but to listen. And not surprisingly, there's a lot of rage. Here's a sampling: 

"I am pissed beyond measure at the 59,479,296 of you who voted for Trump. With your votes, you supported racism, nativism, sexism, and ableism. You showed that you don’t value education or science. You demonstrated a complete lack of regard for people who aren’t as fortunate as you. Your votes threaten our liberty and undermine the social progress we’ve made in recent years. Your votes embarrass me and disgust me."

"I'm so beyond disappointed in the U.S. We have a disturbingly large number of vile citizens. I don't care about myself. I care about the millions of souls that are in great danger. The millions of lives about to be shattered into so many pieces based on the horrific views and actions of Donald Trump."  

"I find that seeing Trump and his followers win caused a deep sorrow in my heart, that evil had triumphed over good. Yet I must remember to put my future in God's hand and worry about a day at a time. And secondly it is good that there are others out there who have not been taken over by evil."

"This is so tragic and I cannot agree or believe that God's heart is not broken for his people, all people. Tonight, I am grieving for my previous friends, loved ones and strangers of all people groups who are wounded and reeling. I am grieving for myself."

What I find interesting about these comments (and I'm guessing these are the milder versions) is that it doesn't really even matter that it was Donald Trump. Substitute any Republican name and the reaction would be the same. As I recall, the left demonized Mitt Romney in 2012 (pretty sure Hitler's name came up). This time around, they detested Ted Cruz, were repulsed by Carly Fiorina, loathed Mike Pence. In other words, it's not who beat Hillary Clinton. It's that she was beaten. Hillary Clinton could have lost to any one of the candidates and the anger would be no different. Sure, Donald Trump made it pretty easy. His defects are so obvious, so pronounced, it was child's play to wield him as a club to shame and hector and browbeat conservatives (at least, this conservative) into silence and embarrassment. This is who your party has nominated? Are you saying you'll vote for this monster? 

Sometimes Facebook feels like a grade school playground, bullies running roughshod while the rest of us cower in the shadows and eat our lunches. At first glance, it seems the shaming works in that it shuts most people up. It's not worth getting ganged up on. But I can't help but wonder if the shaming might be counterproductive. Because, when asked, or, more to the point, when polled, who would admit that they'd vote for "this monster"? Tell the pollsters anything but the truth. As Jim Geraghty of National Review wrote this morning, admitting that even he had gotten the numbers oh so wrong: 

"Pollsters have had off years before, but there has never been a colossal ten-car pile-up like this in the polling industry. The entire industry needs to scrap everything they know about the electorate and start over. One of the giant questions they must address is whether we now live in an atmosphere of such far-reaching and stifling social disapproval of politically incorrect positions that a significant portion of respondents no longer feel comfortable expressing their actual beliefs to a pollster. There really was a silent majority."

So. Election day arrives. The silent majority emerges from the shadows and casts its votes. And the world goes mad.

There's been a lot of soul-searching on my "team." Maybe those on the left who are so enraged, who regard those who voted for Trump with such contempt, should do some soul searching of their own. Yes, a silent majority spoke, but what did they say? Surely Clinton's loss cannot be laid at the feet of 59 million people. An election is a job interview. Hillary Clinton applied for the job and came up short. It's happened before, and it will happen again. To accuse close to 60 million people who didn't offer her the job as being bigots or racists or misogynists is a cop-out. The way I see it, Hillary Clinton and her party have no one but themselves to blame. Love him or hate him, Donald Trump did what he needed to do. His victory was an apparent repudiation of everything Hillary Clinton represents: leftism writ large, executive overreach, political corruption, cynicism, abuse of power, condescension, arrogance. Those who voted to give Donald Trump a chance are taking a gamble. This could blow up in their faces. But to damn them? 

Let the soul searching begin, America. But let it also begin in the sacred halls of progressivism.

"The people have spoken--the bastards."

(Democratic politician and strategist Dick Tuck, 1966)