On prayer, diversity among deities, and ADHD.

On prayer, diversity among deities, and ADHD.

My new favorite computer game begins each round as a real-time strategy game like Starcraft.  You command your little empire to build temples and offer up various sorts of psalms – will you praise your deity’s ever-gathering hands, its watchful vigilance, its fiery vengeance?

After you feel that you’ve done enough to celebrate your deity, you can command your priests to summon it – at which point the gameplay switches to a third-person adventure mode vaguely reminiscent of the old arcade classic Rampage.  You must attempt to destroy opposing civilizations with your deity … but there’s a twist.  The attributes of your deity reflect the way it was prayed to.  With too much emphasis on its “ever-gathering hands,” your god’s hands become massive. Those unwieldy appendages drag behind you as you walk, plowing deep furrows into the ground.

In this phase of the game, the controls can seem laggy and loose.  It turns out that this is intentional; as in the game Octodad, an inability to control your creation is an essential part of the game.  Certain types of prayer might make your deity more powerful but also more difficult to manage.

John_Martin_-_The_Great_Day_of_His_Wrath_-_Google_Art_Project

Presumably you’d avoid this sort of self-destructive excess – like praising wrath to the extent that your god destroys your own kingdom promptly after being summoned – but opposing players can infiltrate your civilization with heretics, and the way they pray will affect your god as well.

Arturo Perez-Reverte’s The Club Dumas ends with the idea that “everyone gets the devil he deserves.”  This is the underlying concept of the game, but for gods instead of demons.

First Coming includes elements of both real-time strategy and arcade smash-em-up.  And the idea of human prayer sculpting physically-manifest deities is intriguing.  I’d go so far as to argue that it’s the greatest game, flawed only in that it doesn’t live up to the Ontological Argument for the existence of God.

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Bible_primer,_Old_Testament,_for_use_in_the_primary_department_of_Sunday_schools_(1919)_(14595468018)We live in a culture that reveres vengeance.  The majority of the U.S. worships a deity who was praised for his violence.

Sometime around 600 BCE, a kingdom that worshiped a local deity called Yahweh was conquered by Nebuchadnezzer, whose people worshiped the storm god Marduk.  After the surrender, many of the conquered people were deported to Babylon, where they would help make that city the most splendid in the world.

But some of the conquered Hebrews were allowed to remain in Jerusalem, where they still worshiped Yahweh in traditional ways – mostly by ritually killing animals – until they attempted to regain their independence.  Then the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzer sent an army to circle the city.  The people began to starve.  The uprising was crushed.

102.Zedekiah's_Sons_Are_Slaughtered_before_His_EyesThe Hebrew leader was captured.  He was held, struggling, a soldier on either side restraining his arms.  One by one the Babylonian conquerors brought Zedekiah’s children.  The leader surely screamed, begging to die.  The soldiers gripped his arms more tightly.  And (2 Kings 25) they slew the sons of Zedekiah before his eyes, and put out the eyes of Zedekiah.  Those murders were his last sights, lingering in his blinded mind.  His sons bodies spilling blood from their slit necks into the dust.

Many more of the remaining Hebrews were then deported to Babylon, to slave for the greatness of that city.  They carted stones to build monuments to Marduk.  This god’s temples soared into the sky, one some seven stories high.

And the Hebrews saw the ceremonies held to celebrate Marduk.  On the fourth day of the New Year’s festival, priests read from a sacred text, the Enuma Elish, describing the origin of the world.  The old gods had sex; they were murdered by their children; the flesh of their bodies was used to construct heaven and earth.  Other sacred texts included the Atrahasis – which describes the flood that nearly destroyed humanity when we became too noisy and disturbed the gods’ rest – and Gilgamesh which celebrates fraternal love.

The-Rise-and-Fall-of-Adam-and-Eve_Stephen-Greenblatt_coverIn The Rise and Fall of Adam and Eve, Stephen Greenblat writes that “These works feature gods – a whole pantheon of them – but Yahweh is nowhere among them, let alone their lord and master.

The Hebrew people were crushed, their god so insignificant that he appeared in none of the victors’ stories.  And so the Hebrews fought back … with words.  They wrote a sacred text of their own, one in which Yahweh reigned supreme and the Babylonian tales were mockingly tweaked.  The glorious temples gave rise to “The Tower of Babel,” symbol of mankind’s unwarranted arrogance.  In the Hebrew flood story, humans were killed because the city people – and none were more urbane than the Babylonians – were corrupt.  Sex did not mark the origin of the world, but rather began after the fall.

And they sang psalms to a deity patiently waiting to enact murderous revenge:

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion

We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.

For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

… and, in answer of their own question, the conquered people begin to sing …

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.

Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Raze it, raze it, even to the foundation thereof.

O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hath served us.

Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.

After the siege, Hebrew sons were murdered, daughters were raped, those of able body were made slaves.  They asked of their god revenge.  They prayed to a lord who would kill, and abet their killing, to restore their kingdom.

bible-1623181_640And … several millennia later … our philosophical traditions are rooted in their prayers.  Our nation is embroiled in retributive wars.  Our punitive prisons are overflowing, with those unfortunate enough to land inside often made worse by their time there.

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Yahweh was praised for his patient pursuit of vengeance.  And we celebrate those qualities – in school, especially, we praise those able to dispassionately sit for hours, ingesting knowledge.  Those with difficulty sitting still, we drug.

Which is sad – there are many ways of being smart, even if our culture celebrates only one of them.

Indeed, many cultures have told myths with ADHD heros.  In the Apache myth of the origin of fire, Fox joined a flock of geese in flight … but then forgot the rules for staying in the air.  But that was okay – it was only after he tumbled to earth that he had a chance to steal fire from a tribe of fireflies and bring it to mankind.

In many Polynesian myths of the origin of fire, it was brought by Maui … whose impulsiveness would almost surely lead to an ADHD diagnosis in the contemporary United States.  Each time he received a gift of fire from his ancestor in the underworld – she was pulling off burning finger- or toe-nails and giving them to him – he intentionally quenched them in a nearby stream, just to see what she’d do next.  His curiosity was nearly the death of him.  Irked, she lit the world on fire.

In the Norse pantheon, Loki sometimes plans … but more often pursues whatever rebellious notion pops into his head.  The mutant children he sired will destroy the world.  His penchant for vicious barroom taunting (and impromptu murder) angered all other gods and led to his repeated exile from their kingdom.

But his exploits were still celebrated.

lightning.jpgOr there’s Annabeth in Rick Riordan’s The Lightning Thief, a daughter of Athena who helps the protagonist recover after a battle with a minotaur:

“And the ADHD – you’re impulsive, can’t sit still in the classroom.  That’s your battlefield reflexes.  In a real fight, they’d keep you alive.  As for the attention problems, that’s because you see too much, Percy, not too little.  Your senses are better than a regular mortal’s.  Of course the teachers want you medicated.  Most of them are monsters.  They don’t want you seeing them for what they are.”

On Sci-Hub, the Napster of science.

On Sci-Hub, the Napster of science.

Here’s a story you’ve probably heard: the music industry was great until Napster came along and complete strangers could “share” their collections online and profits tanked.  Metallica went berserk suing their fans.  It was too late.  The industry has never been the same.napster

Sci-Hub has been called a Napster equivalent for scientific research papers, and the major publishing companies are suing to shut it down.  The neuroscience grad student who created it faces financial ruin.  The original website was quickly shuttered by a legal injunction, but the internet is a slippery place.  Now the same service is hosted outside U.S. jurisdiction.

[Note: between writing and posting this essay, Sci-Hub has lost another lawsuit requesting all such sites to be blocked by internet service providers.]

The outcomes of these lawsuits are a big deal.  Not just for the idealistic Kazakhstani grad student charged with millions in damages.  Academic publishers will do all they can to accentuate the parallels between Sci-Hub and Napster – and, look, nearly a quarter of my living relatives are professional musicians, so I realize how much damage was wrought by Napster’s culture of theft – but comparing research papers to pop songs is a rotten analogy.  Even if you’ve never wanted to read original research yet … even if you think – reasonably – that content producers should be paid, you should care about the open access movement.  Of which Sci-Hub is the most dramatic foray.

My own perspective changed after I did some ghostwriting for a pop medicine book.  Maybe you know the type: “Do you have SCARY DISEASE X?  It’ll get better if you take these nutritional supplements and do this type of yoga and buy these experimental home-use medical devices!”  Total hokum.  And yet, people buy these books.  So there I was, unhelpfully – quite possibly unethically – collaborating with a friend who’d been hired to ghostwrite a new one.

Central_core_disease_NADH_stainI read huge numbers of research papers and wrote chapters about treating this particular SCARY DISEASE with different foods, nutritional supplements, and off-label pharmaceuticals.  My sentences were riddled with un-truths.  The foods and drugs I described are exceedingly unlikely to benefit patients in any way.

Still, I found research papers purporting to have found benefits.  I dutifully described the results.  I focused on the sort of semi-farcical study that concludes, for instance, that cancer patients who drink sufficient quantities of green tea have reduced tumor growth, at which point newspapers announce that green tea is a “superfood” that cures cancer, at which point spurious claims get slathered all over the packaging.

Maybe nobody has written a paper (yet!) claiming that green tea ameliorates your particular SCARY DISEASE.  But there’s also turmeric, kale, fish oil, bittermelon, cranberries… I’m not sure any ingredient is so mundane that it won’t eventually be declared a superfood.  Toxoplasma gondii has been linked to schizophrenia, but low-level schizophrenia has been linked to creativity: will it be long before cat excrement is marketed as a superfood for budding artists?

cat-shit-2-flat-1.jpgAs it happens, enough people suffer from our book’s SCARY DISEASE that many low-quality studies exist.  I was able to write those chapters.  And then felt grim.  The things I’d written about food weren’t so bad, because although turmeric, coconut oil, and carpaccio won’t cure anybody, they won’t cause much harm either.  But the drugs?  They won’t help, and most have nasty side effects.

My words might mislead people into wasting money on unnecessary dietary supplements or, worse, causing serious damage with self-prescribed pharmaceuticals.  Patients might follow the book’s rotten advice instead of consulting with a trained medical professional.  I’d like to think that nobody would be foolish enough to trust that book – the ostensible author is probably even less qualified to have written that book than I am, because at least I have a Ph.D. in biochemistry from Stanford – but, based on the money being thrown around, somebody thinks it’ll sell.

And I helped.

Whoops.  Mea culpa, and all of that.

But I didn’t perpetrate my sins alone.  And I’m not just blaming the book’s publishers here.  After all, the spurious results I described came from real research papers, often written by professors at major universities, often published in legitimate scientific journals.

It’s crummy to concentrate all that slop in a slim pop medicine book, I agree, but isn’t it also crummy for all those spurious research papers to exist at all?

Maybe you’ve heard that various scientific fields suffer from a “replication crisis.”  There’s been coverage on John Oliver’s Last Week Tonight and in the New York Times about major failures in psychology and medicine.  Scientists write a paper claiming something happens, but that thing doesn’t happen in anyone else’s hands.  That’s if anyone even bothers to check.  Most of the time, nobody does.  Verifying someone else’s results won’t help researchers win grants, so it’s generally seen as a waste of time and money.

Still, the news coverage I’ve seen hasn’t stated the problem sufficiently bluntly.  Modern academic science is designed to be false.

This is tragic.  It’s part of why I chose not to stop working in the field.  I became a writer.  Of course, this led to my stint of ghostwriting, which… well, whoops.

Here’s how modern science works: most research is publishable only if it is “statistically significant.”  This means comparing any result to a “null hypothesis” – if you’re investigating the effect of green tea on cancer, the null hypothesis is simply “green tea does nothing” – then throwing out your results if you had more than a one in twenty chance to see what you did if the null hypothesis were true.

If you have a hundred patients, some of their tumors will shrink no matter what you do.  If you give everybody buckets of green tea and see the usual number of people improve, you shouldn’t claim that green tea saved them.

Here’s a graphic from Wikipedia to help:

pvalue1pvalue2

Logical enough.  But bad.  Why?  Because cancer is a SCARY DISEASE.  Far more than twenty people are studying it.  If twenty scientists each decide to test whether green tea reduces tumors, the “one in twenty” statistical test means that somebody from that set of scientists will probably see an above-average number of patients improve.  When you’re dealing with random chance, there are always flukes.  If twenty researchers all decided to flip four coins in a row, somebody would probably see all four come up heads – doesn’t mean that researcher did anything special.

Or, did you hear the news that high folate might be correlated with autism?  This study probably sounds legitimate – the lead scientist is a professor at Johns Hopkins, after all – but the result is quite unlikely to be real.  That scientist hasn’t written about folate previously, so my best guess (this new study is currently unpublished) is that pregnant women were tested for many different biomarkers, things like folate, iron, testosterone, and more, and then tracked to see whose children would develop autism.  If the researchers tested the concentrations of twenty different nutrients and hormones, of course they’d see one that appeared to correlate with autism.

[Edit: these findings were recently published.  Indeed, the data appear rather unconvincing, and the measurements for folate were made after the fact, using blood samples – it’s quite possible that other data was gathered but excluded from the published version of the study.]

This is not science.  But if you neglect to mention how many biomarkers you studied, and you retroactively concoct a conspiracy theory-esque narrative explaining why you were concerned about folate, it can do a fine job of masquerading as science.  At least long enough to win the next grant.

Which means that, even though the results of many of these studies are false, they get published.  When somebody checks twenty nutrients, one might appear to cause autism.  When twenty scientists study green tea and cancer, somebody might get results suggesting green tea does work.  Even if it doesn’t do a thing.

In our current system, though, only the mistaken researcher’s results get published.  Nobody knows that there were twenty tests.  The nineteen other biomarkers that were measured get left out of the final paper.  The nineteen researchers who found that green tea does nothing don’t publish anything.  Showing that a food doesn’t cure cancer?  How mundane.  Nobody wants to read that; publishers don’t want it in their journals.  But the single spurious result showing that green tea is a tumor-busting superfood?  That is exciting.  That study lands in a fancy journal and gets described in even briefer, more flattering language in the popular press.  Soon big-name computer CEOs are guzzling green tea instead of risking surgery or chemo.

I generally assume that the conclusions of research studies using this type of statistical testing are false.  And there’s more.  Data are often presented misleadingly.  Plenty of scientists are willing to test a pet theory many ways and report only the approach that “works,” not necessarily because they want to lie to people, but because it’s so easy to rationalize why the test you tried first (and second, and third…) was not quite right.  I worked in many laboratories over a decade and there were often results that everybody in the lab knew weren’t true.  Both professors I worked under at Stanford published studies that I know weren’t done correctly.  Sadly, they know it too.

This subterfuge can be hard for outsiders to notice.  But sometimes the flaws are things that anybody could be taught to identify.  With just a little bit of guidance, anybody foolish enough to purchase the pop medicine book I worked on would be able to look up the original research papers and read them and realize that they’re garbage.

There’s a catch: most of those papers cost between twenty and thirty dollars a pop.  The chapters I wrote cite nearly a hundred articles.  I’d describe a few studies about the off-label use of this drug, a few about that one, on and on, “so that our readers feel empowered to make their own decisions instead of being held at the paternalistic mercy of their healthcare professionals.”  A noble goal.  But I’m not sure that recommending patients dabble with ineffectual, oft-risky alternative medicines is the best way to pursue it.  Especially when the book publisher was discussing revenue sharing agreements with sellers of some of the weird stuff we shilled.

So, those hundred citations?  You could spend three thousand dollars figuring out that the chapters I wrote are crap.  The situation is slowly getting better – the National Institute of Health has mandated that taxpayer-funded studies be made available after a year, but this doesn’t apply to anything published before 2008, and I’m not sure how keen sick patients will be to twiddle their thumbs for a year before learning the latest information about their diseases.  Plus, there are many granting organizations out there.  Researchers who get their money elsewhere aren’t bound by this requirement.  If somebody asks you, “Would you like to donate money to fight childhood cancer?” and you chip in a buck, you’re actually contributing to the problem.

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Photo by diylibrarian on Flickr.

I was only able to write my chapters of that book because I live next to a big university.  I could stroll to the library and use their permissions to access the papers I’d need.  Sometimes, though, that wasn’t enough.  Each obscure journal, of which there are legion, can cost a university several thousand dollars a year for a subscription.  A few studies I cited were published in specialty journals too narrowly focused for Indiana University to subscribe, so I’d send an email to a buddy still working at Stanford and ask him to send me a copy.

If you get sick and worry yourself into looking for the truth, you’ll probably be out of luck.  Even doing your research at a big state university library might not be enough.

That’s if you keep your research legal.

Or you could search for the papers you need on Sci-Hub.  Then you’d just type the title, complete a CAPTCHA on a page with instructions in Cyrillic (on what was until recently http://www.sci-hub.cc, at least), and, bam!  You have it!  You can spend your thirty dollars on something else.  Food, maybe, or rent.

Of course, this means you are a thief.  The publisher didn’t get the thirty dollars they charge for access to a paper.  And those academic publishers would like for you to feel the same ethical qualms that we’re retraining people to feel when they pirate music or movies.  If you steal, content producers won’t be paid, they’ll starve, and we’ll staunch the flow of beautiful art to which we’ve become accustomed.

The comparison between Napster and Sci-Hub is a false analogy.  Slate correspondent Justin Peters described the perverse economics of academic publishing, in particular the inelastic demand – nobody reads research journals for fun.

With music and movies, purchasing legitimate access funds creators.  Not so in academia.  My laboratory had to pay a journal to publish my thesis work; this is standard practice.  It costs the authors a lot of money to publish a research article, and “content producers” only do it, as opposed to slapping their work up on a personal website for everyone to read free, because they need publication credits on their CVs to keep winning grants.

With music and movies, stealing electronic copies makes content producers sad.  With research articles, it makes them happy.

In fact, almost everyone believes research articles should be free.  At the European Union’s recent Competitiveness Council, the member states agreed that all scientific papers should be freely available by 2020 – these  are the governments whose enforcement is necessary to maintain the current copyright system!  The only people making statements in favor of the status quo are employed by the academic publishers themselves.  Their ideological positions may be swayed somewhat by the $2 billion plus profit margins major publishers are able to extract from their current racket.

Academic publishers would argue that they serve an important role as curators of the myriad discoveries made daily.  This doesn’t persuade me.  The “referees” they rely on to assess whether each study is sound are all unpaid volunteers.  Plus, if the journals were curating well, wouldn’t it have been harder for me to fill that pop medicine book with so much legitimate-looking crap?

Most importantly, by availing yourself of Sci-Hub’s pirated material, you the thief no longer live in ignorance.  With our current healthcare model, ignorance is deadly.  The United States is moving toward an a la carte method of delivering treatment, where sick people are expected to be knowledgeable, price-sensitive consumers rather than patients who place their trust in a physician.  Most sick people no longer have a primary care physician who knows much about their personal lives – instead, doctors are forced for financial reasons to join large corporate conglomerates.  Doctors try their best moment by moment, but they might never see someone a second time.  It’s more important than ever for patients to stay well-informed.

Unless Sci-Hub wins its lawsuit, you probably can’t afford to.

On apocalypse-preppers, technology, and oppression.

On apocalypse-preppers, technology, and oppression.

33572350._UY700_SS700_In Gabriel Tallent’s My Absolute Darling, the protagonist is preparing for apocalypse.  At a parent-teacher conference, her dad rants that our world is falling apart – we’re polluting the oceans, growing monocultures of a select few (vulnerable) food crops across all arable land, disrupting the climate, overpopulating the planet – and that it’s ridiculous for his daughter to take spelling quizzes in the face of such calamity.  At home, he has her cleaning guns instead of studying for school.

It’s an iconic image – the grizzled, isolate, male prepper.

On dating sites specifically catering to preppers and survivalists, men far outnumber women.  On the banner image for the C.U.M.A. Survival School (which teaches combat techniques, animal trapping, how to build fires, and the like), there are three women out of seventeen visible people.

survival school.JPG

Journalist Nicky Woolf interviewed attendees at a 2015 Preppers and Survivalists Expo in Florida.  One of the men Woolf spoke with was sitting beside a handwritten recruitment sign, looking for someone with medical training to join his team.  Woolf asks the man whether his wife came to the Expo.

He suddenly looks tired.  “No.”  I ask if this is a point of contention between the two of them.  “I bought equipment for my son,” he says.  “I bought three of everything, one for me, one for my wife, one for my son.  My son is too possessed, and my wife is totally mind-controlled by the programs on the TV, the fluoride she’s drinking – because fluoride…”  Bingo!  He begins another rant.

I interrupt him to get more details about his wife.  “She won’t look at anything,” he says sadly.  “She won’t look at any of the literature, she won’t look at any of the DVDs.”

For some reason, I find this unbearably sad.

“How does that make you feel?” I ask.

“What can I do about it?” he says.  “I love her.  Been with her 27 years.  But when the shit hits the fan, I’m going.”

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While I was researching a story about a hands-on retreat teaching the history of technology – under the auspices of recreating our world after a disaster – I realized there was a strong feminist argument for preserving this knowledge.

710v76v5doLLewis Dartnell distills some of this information in The Knowledge: How to Rebuild Our World from Scratch.  Dartnell focuses on contemporary technologies, especially methods to jump-start food production and long-distance communication from the detritus of our current civilization.  The book is focused on the future – Dartnell convincingly argues that technological development after our civilization’s collapse would progress very differently than it did in the past, both because contemporary artifacts would remain to be learned from … and because we’ve already depleted the easily-accessible fuel sources that powered our own industrial revolution.

If we were starting again, we would have to make green technologies.

The history of technology still matters, though.  Contemporary gender inequality sprung from that history.

763220016_3ed7cdeb06_bAmong most primate species, gender inequality is correlated with sexual dimorphism – when males are a lot bigger, they behave badly.  In bonobos and chimpanzees, males and females are relatively close in size … and they have relatively equal status.  In gorillas or orangutans, males are much larger than females … and females can have pretty rotten lives.

And humans?  We actually have pretty low sexual dimorphism.  The average male is bigger than the average female, but only by about 15%.  Based on the behaviors of other primates, we ought to be fairly egalitarian.  Through most of our evolutionary history, we probably were … as were many of the hunter-gatherer societies that persisted until recent eras.

But you wouldn’t know it by looking at contemporary U.S. news.  And we’re doing better now than we have been for the past several centuries.

What went wrong?

PSM_V18_D469_Wheeled_plough_from_the_roman_empireIn our current world, being 15% bigger provides very little benefit.  Gasoline-powered machines do our heavy lifting.  But the importance of human sexual dimorphism was accentuated by early technologies. Our size differences mattered more once we developed agriculture … and seemed crucial after the invention of the plow.

Being 15% bigger does matter if you’re plowing a field.  Suddenly, men were more important for food production than women.  The status of women in these cultures plummeted.  And – lucky us – our culture derived from theirs.

sapiens book.jpgIn Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, vegan historian Yuval Noah Harari depicts the development of agriculture as a kind of “original sin.”  After agriculture, the average person experienced a much lower quality of life.  Agriculture made progress possible, but only because it made oppression possible.  Serfs could be taxed to feed the idle rich.  After agriculture, most people worked harder and ate worse.  Inequality soared.

Certain patches of land were better than others before agriculture.  Even among hunter-gatherers, there are skirmishes.  Tribes fight; people die.  But agriculture made war worthwhile.

And agrarians thought it reasonable to spin myths about the weakness of women.  15% more body mass meant the world to them … and we still celebrate their stories.

Let’s hope we never go through that again.

On Gabriel Tallent’s “My Absolute Darling.”

On Gabriel Tallent’s “My Absolute Darling.”

Though we inhabit the same space, we often live in separate worlds.

I’ve written previously about differences in perception and how these steer our interpretation of the world – these differences are dramatic between humans and other species, but can be stark between two humans as well.  Political discourse has been derailed in this country because large groups of people hold such distinct worldviews, and it’s become increasingly rare for either side to strive to empathize with the beliefs of the others.

I’m guilty of this, too.  I sometimes rail about the way science is taught.  But many people believe that our purpose in life is to reach communion with God.  From that perspective, public education that distances students from religious faith needs to be disrupted, whether with alternate curricula, charter schools, or budget cuts.

33572350._UY700_SS700_In My Absolute Darling, Gabriel Tallent depicts the devastating fallout that can accompany a merging of worlds.  Turtle lives in the wilds of Mendocino, California.  Her world is utterly distinct from the place where other characters live.  Her grandfather, for instance, lives in a world where his son is gruff, demanding, perhaps overprotective … but ultimately a loving father.

His world crumbles when he sees the deep bruises mottling his granddaughter’s legs – his son has beaten her with a metal rod.  He has to confront fourteen years of misconceptions.  It kills him.

Or, when Turtle visits a friend’s home, she looks around the immaculate space, puzzled.

“Where are your tools and things?’

There had been none in the garage.

“Tools?”

“You know – tools,” she says.

“Oh, there’s a whole bunch of tools in Mom’s workshop.  Acetylene torches and things.” [The boy’s mother is an artist.]

She says, “So what do you do when something breaks?”

Jacob looks at her smiling, as if waiting for the rest of that sentence.  Then he says, “You mean, like – are you asking, like, which plumber do we call?  I could ask Dad.”

Turtle stands looking at him.

dave43
Evil Dave versus Regular Dave, circa 2009 — stoner types burble through My Absolute Darling, many of whom share a revulsion at the corporate devastation of our world … and tourists.

They are in the same room.  But they are living in separate worlds.  The boy was not raised by an apocalypse-prepping sociopath.  No one demanded that he practice marksmanship each day.

“It’s a precaution,” she says.

“Is it, though?” he says.  “Owning a gun, you are nine times more likely to be shot by a family member than by an intruder.”

She cracks a knuckle, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softening.  “I’m not challenging you, or criticizing – not at all – I just want to hear your perspective.  That’s all.  I don’t really think that you’re gonna be shot by a family member.”

By this time, though – barely a quarter of the way through the novel – it’s quite clear to readers that Turtle will be shot by a family member.  Her worldview is deeply tainted by the teachings of her father.

Which was grim for me to read, as a parent.  Tallent constantly reminds readers of the control that parents exercise over their children.  Parents’ philosophies permeate their children’s souls, perhaps distancing children from the world.  Turtle’s father shows up to a school conference and rants about the utter uselessness of what his daughter is learning – and I cringed to think how reasonable his arguments against spelling memorization sounded in a world that is actively crumbling around us.

Tallent makes it seductively easy to empathize with his monster.

The book is lovely.  Brutal, but beautiful.

Once Turtle befriends two boys her own age – lost in the woods, much worse at navigation than at spinning tales about patrolling their someday garbage kingdom atop mutant iguana steeds – we see that she has kept some fraction of her world safe from the corruption of her father.  Previously, no one has known Turtle’s name.  Her father calls her “kibble,” her grandfather “sweatpea,” her classmates and teacher “Julia.”

Those people are not in her world.  As far away as someone who’d look at a mushroom’s gills and call them “louvers.”

But when Turtle meets those two boys, she knows they will be friends.  She tells them her name.  “Turtle.”  She has a world.  She’s willing to invite others in.

She might just be okay.

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Evil Dave versus Regular Dave, circa 2010 — as in Carrie, Tallent’s adolescents assume everybody’s problems are equivalent.  Some worry who to invite to the school dance; Turtle struggles to survive.

On psychotropic drugs and optimism.

On psychotropic drugs and optimism.

Orange_juice_1_edit1One of the most renowned – and certainly most prolific – discoverers of psychotropic molecules, Dr. Alexander Shulgin, was compelled into the field by the irresistible effect that sugar he’d presumed to be a soporific had upon his mind. A mere placebo! No one suggested that his drink (a glass of orange juice with stray crystals of undissolved sugar lingering at the bottom, served to him before a procedure at the military hospital) would put him under. From context, he assumed it would. And then could not stay awake.

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After experiencing a profound mental change by consuming something inert, Shulgin devoted his life to the creation of compounds with undeniable psychotropic effects. He consulted with the U.S. military on the synthesis of THC analogs. He first synthesized (and, alongside a team of revelers, first ingested) hundreds of derivatives of mescaline and psilocybin. It is largely due to Dr. Shulgin that MDMA enjoys its current popularity.

Hoodwinked by sugar, he resolved to study drugs.

Perhaps this is to be expected from an artist. From an optimist. After experiencing an illusion, he attempted to make it real. Like a painter who through distance or blurred vision perceives something as beautiful that in actuality is not. Then attempts to paint, instead of the world, the beautiful mistake.

Degas.etoileIn “Poetry Is a Kind of Lying,” Jack Gilbert writes,

Degas said he didn’t paint
what he saw, but what
would enable them to see

the thing he had.

I too am an optimist. Everything looks beautiful from far away. As an optimist, I feel sad a lot – optimists are good at seeing the world as it could (and should!) be.

With enough hard work, the initial misperceptions will cease to be mistakes.

 

Featured image by Marina del Castell on Flickr.

On correspondence.

On correspondence.

1280px-Plasmid_(english).svgDNA plasmids are small loops of genetic information that can change the behavior of bacteria.  With the right (wrong?) plasmids, you could take innocuous E. coli and make it very dangerous.

As best I could tell from a few minutes spent skimming the USPS documents describing “hazardous, restricted, and perishable mail,” it’s not actually illegal to ship plasmids.  Many biomedical researchers have long assumed that it was illegal, though.  Not that we didn’t do it.  But we always took steps to sneakily circumvent the laws we assumed existed.

Plasmids are dangerous, after all.  Why wouldn’t there be a law?

DNA is very stable.  Its stability is probably the whole reason it exists.  Most scientists assume that life began as self-replicating strands of a molecule called RNA, which is very similar to DNA except more prone to falling apart.  Each of our cells is like a tiny factory – proteins are the machines, RNA are blueprints, and DNA is a file cabinet.

(K says this analogy is no good because a file cabinet is an “archaic technology.”  I have several early drafts of my novel – plus the entire three-year run of Evil Dave vs. Regular Dave – in a file cabinet next to our bed.  I wonder, am I an archaic technology?)

DNA is so stable that it can be dried out and shipped across the country without coming to any harm.

To send plasmids through the mail, we would draw a circle on a piece of filter paper, dab a liquid solution of it onto the paper, then slip the sheet into the center of a catalog.  The catalog would look harmless, like junk mail.  Whomever received it would flip through, find the filter paper, cut out the circle, and immerse it in water.  Voila!  The plasmid is ready to change bacteria into something new!

The good people at the post office never notice.  The only snags are undergrads – a sophomore who was working with us happened to open the mail.  Our advisor asked later, “Where is that plasmid?  It was being sent by the ______ lab.”

“We got a package from them … but it was just an old catalog.  I recycled it.”

Oops.

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Pink_Elephants_on_Parade_Blotter_LSD_DumboAs it happens, numerous psychoactive chemicals can wig out a human brain at concentrations low enough to dissolve on paper.  Somebody sends a saturated sheet through the mail – you cut it out and, instead of using it to transform bacteria, you get high.

Apparently this works well with suboxone – which can be used either as a treatment for or a substitute for heroin – and the THC analogs marketed as K2, spice, or synthetic marijuana.  LSD has long been sold dissolved on blotter paper with goofy cartoons.

And so the Indiana Department of Corrections recently decided to ban all correspondence to inmates that isn’t handwritten on blue-lined white paper.  No greeting cards, no photocopies, no drawings.

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Photo from Pat and Steve Cole / St. Basil Greek Orthodox Church in Chicago, IL.  I first saw it in the Indy Star.

A Chicago-based church sends greeting cards to many prisoners over the holidays.  This May, the entire batch of Easter cards they’d sent to Indiana prisoners were returned with a brief note explaining the new mail policy.  Even now, it’s unclear what the policy actually is.  The only regulations for offender correspondence available from the Indiana Department of Corrections are dated September, 2015.  Even these guidelines are vague, mentioning that all decisions are made on a case-by-case basis.

For the correspondence writing workshop I run, I often send printed materials.  Because these are being mailed on behalf of a non-profit corporation, they are supposed to go through – only private mail is supposed to be axed by the new policy.

Or so we’ve been told.

When our corporation sends letters or packages sometimes they go through, sometimes they do not.  The fate of each letter depends on which guard happens to be working in the mail room when it arrives, obviously.  The policy is sufficiently vague that each enforcer will interpret it differently.

A letter’s fate also seems to depend on the identity of the recipient.  If you receive a package while in prison, I’ve been told, the guards are supposed to open it in front of you, show it to you, and then have to either give it to you or explain why you can’t have it.  But with so many and such vague rules, the guards should always be able to think of a reason to bin it.  I’ve noticed that many of our packages that get returned for flimsy reasons were sent to people with long lists of disciplinary infractions.

The rich get richer.  And those who seem to need love most … get nothing.  If you’re disliked, they can sever you from the world.

On smell.

On smell.

Page three of Dogs and Puppies by Funfax (the dog-shaped book below) reads, in its entirety, “Sniffing around.  Sniff, sniff!  Dogs have a better sense of smell than you or I. [sic] They can easily pick up the trail of an animal.

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With a summertime haul from Indy Reads Books.

Ill-written … and not even true.

Not that I blame the good people at Funfax for the factual inaccuracy.  Humans have long imagined stark barriers separating ourselves from other animal species.  For political reasons, both neuroanatomist Paul Broca and psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud claimed that the human sense of smell atrophied in order for us to have free will.  These claims were untested.  John P. McGann wrote in his recent Science review article that:

Freud and Broca thus provided a pseudoscientific gloss on the idea that smell operates in opposition to a disembodied rationality that makes humans civilized and distinct from other mammals.

Indeed, humans have approximately the same number of brain cells devoted to smell as other mammals.  And, when researchers actually measured the concentrations of various chemicals that can be detected, they found that different species are best at recognizing each smell.  Humans included: we’re better at smelling certain odors than mice or dogs are. (We’re very good at smelling human blood.)

When humans crouch to the ground, we too can “sniff, sniff!” – researchers found that most people can “easily pick up the trail of an animal.”   Smell is also a major component of our non-verbal communication: odors can be powerful signals of trauma, stress, or aggression.

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People are generally in dire emotional straights when they’re locked up.  And incarceration makes shakes them further.  Inside a jail, they’re surrounded by stress-inducing odors.

Our local jail often smells bad.  Which is distinct from – but might exacerbate – the way certain odors can trigger negative emotional states.  While being ushered into class, we’ve watched the bescumbered glass of the drunk tank being hosed off, foul discolored water seeping from beneath the door.  We’ve coughed through the hall after a topless, raving woman was pepper-sprayed and tackled (one of our students reported, “She was all covered in shit, but those were the first tits I’ve seen in eighteen years.  Guards know she shouldn’t be here, she should be in a fucking hospital.”)  And even in the best of circumstances, we’re breathing recycled air inhabited by hundreds of suffering men and women cut off from their usual routines.  Bob Barker’s (complimentary, unless someone puts money on your books, at which point you’re retroactively billed) soap isn’t enough.

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Before teaching in jail, each week John-Michael would spritz himself with a different perfume.  John-Michael is a highly empathetic poet – I’d been teaching in that space for a year without considering how much the guys might appreciate the chance to smell something nice.

There are people who probably shouldn’t be out on the streets.  But most who spend time in jail will eventually be released.  We should want them to heal while they are inside.  A whiff of perfume might be enough for somebody to relax.  To breath easy again, just for a moment, and think about what needs to be done.

Midwives recommend that a birthing room be spritzed with calming scents.  Lavender, perhaps.  John-Michael’s assortment of perfumes helped the men feel that our class was a safe place.

Eventually, the jail commander noticed.  He has now requested that volunteers not wear perfume of any kind.