Sometimes it just comes down to this: you're either with us or you're against us. Today, the members of the GOP House Freedom Caucus (or "The Freedom From Reality Caucus," as the Wall Street Journal editorial board referred to them in yesterday's paper), made their choice. By refusing to heed the wisdom of the old cliché, "Don't let the perfect become the enemy of the good," they've sided with the opposing team. My guess is they'll come to rue the day. C'est la vie en politique. Here's a little something I created to honor their contribution to today's débâcle.
“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."
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 calledWho 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, gohere). 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.
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)
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.
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.
