Katherine Mangu-Ward - Katherine Mangu-Ward is managing editor for Reason magazine.
On this, my last day guestblogging for Megan -- thanks again for reading and leaving great comments -- I'd like to engage in a little shameless self-promotion which is actually promotion of someone else's very interesting work.
Jonathan Haidt is a psychologist at the University of Virginia. He's also Reason magazine's cover boy this month. He has been working on a big project that asks these questions:
Why do people disagree so passionately about what is right?
Why, in particular, is there such hostility and incomprehension between members of different political parties?
Haidt calls the system he has built to help answer those questions Moral Foundations Theory, and he has been breaking off chunks of this big idea for the last several years. The latest chunk is his new book The Righteous Mind, which was released this week. Along with his colleagues, he posits that the moral appeals upon which political cultures and movements are based can be broken down into six basic categories: care/harm, fairness/cheating, liberty/oppression, loyalty/betrayal, authority/subversion, and sanctity/degradation. As he puts in it his Reason story, adapted from the book:
Political liberals tend to rely primarily on the moral foundation of care/harm, followed by fairness/cheating and liberty/oppression. Social conservatives, in contrast, use all six foundations. They are less concerned than liberals about harm to innocent victims, but they are much more concerned about the moral foundations that bind groups and nations together, i.e., loyalty (patriotism), authority (law and order, traditional families), and sanctity (the Bible, God, the flag as a sacred object). Libertarians, true to their name, value liberty more than anyone else, and they value it far more than any other foundation.
In an effort to figure out why conversations across the aisle so often degenerate into shouting matches, Haidt (along with colleagues Jesse Graham and Brian Nosek) asked liberals and conservatives to try on each others' ideological shoes, answering a series of questions as they thought their opponents would:
The biggest errors in the whole study came when liberals answered the care and fairness questions while pretending to be conservatives. When faced with statements such as "one of the worst things a person could do is hurt a defenseless animal" or "justice is the most important requirement for a society," liberals assumed that conservatives would disagree.
Haidt theorizes that this kind of blindness to the real motivations of others is driving discord in Washington and around the country. Our political personalities emerge from a stew of nature, nurture (which is in part a result of feedback from the world on our natures), and the narratives we build up to explain the progression of our own lives and the working of the world around us. But they also wall us off from others:
Morality binds and blinds. This is not just something that happens to people on the other side. We all get sucked into tribal moral communities. We circle around sacred values and then share post hoc arguments about why we are so right and they are so wrong. We think the other side is blind to truth, reason, science, and common sense, but in fact everyone goes blind when talking about their sacred objects. Morality binds us into ideological teams that fight each other as though the fate of the world depended on our side winning each battle. It blinds us to the fact that each team is composed of good people who have something important to say
(Go take the survey! It's for science! And it is almost as fun as taking the Myers-Briggs test and then talking smack about people who get results that differ from yours. Doh! Haidt is right again.)
On September 3, China will commemorate the 70th anniversary of the surrender of Japan and the end of World War II, but the service of many veterans of that conflict has been unrecognized for decades.
Why a region with $2 trillion in annual income can’t seem to spare much for the neighbors
Finally, a rich Arab has come forward with a major offer of help to Middle Eastern refugees.
Naguib Sawiris, an Egyptian billionaire, tweeted on September 1 that he was willing to buy an island from Greece or Italy to “host the migrants” and not hold back on any financing needed to make it a permanent home. He even suggested that it can become a new country called Hope. (Though he also suggested it could be “at least temporary until they can return to their countries.”)
The reaction on social media to Sawiris’s generous offer has been largely positive. After all, who would criticize a successful world citizen for a willingness to do what most governments are reluctant to do to address the current crisis?
A poet using a Chinese pseudonym confounds the editor of The Best American Poetry 2015.
The Best American Poetry, an annual anthology of verse,contains an unusual contributor’s note this year. It’s written by Michael Derrick Hudson, a white poet who writes under the pseudonym Yi-Fen Chou. “After a poem of mine has been rejected a multitude of times under my real name, I put Yi-Fen’s name on it and send it out again,” he wrote. “As a strategy for ‘placing’ poems this has been quite successful ... The poem in question … was rejected under my real name forty times before I sent it out as Yi-Fen Chou (I keep detailed records). As Yi-Fen the poem was rejected nine times before Prairie Schooner took it. If indeed this is one of the best American poems of 2015, it took quite a bit of effort to get it into print, but I’m nothing if not persistent.”
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
One in 11 Americans say that they’re Catholic—but that Catholicism isn’t their religion.
A recent report by the Pew Research Center has uncovered a striking fact: Nine percent of Americans say that they are Catholics, but that Catholicism is not their religion.
Two out of 10 respondents told the Pew pollsters that they are Catholics in the sense that they “claim the faith as their current religion.” Another one out of 10 “were raised in the faith and have now fallen away.” But the third group, the 9 percent that Pew calls “cultural catholics,” are more of a puzzle. They do not claim Catholicism as their religion since they are Protestants, atheists, agnostics, or have no religious affiliation. Yet they also regard themselves as “indelibly Catholic by culture, ancestry, ethnicity, or family tradition.” If Catholicism is a religion, then why do so many Americans call themselves Catholics and yet do not have a Catholic religious identity?
The Wisconsin governor’s presidential campaign is in free fall—a development that puzzles the state he has dominated.
RACINE, Wis.—Scott Walker was in Wisconsin for one day last week, but—curiously for a governor who’s been criticized for being away from his home state—he did not show his face publicly.
I managed to catch a glimpse of him by parking outside an evening fundraiser in Racine, a lakefront community south of Milwaukee. There, I spied him for a few seconds, as he bolted from a big black Ford driven by a man in sunglasses through the doors of a bank building on Main Street, putting on his suit jacket as he walked. Campaign workers informed me that the sidewalk was private property and strongly discouraged me from approaching the donors who trickled in.
For the past four years, Walker has dominated Wisconsin. His bold agenda shattered the status quo, he shocked the left and united the right, and he couldn’t be beat. Recalled in 2012, challenged in 2014, he kept on fighting and kept on winning.
The streaming network will produce new episodes of the dystopian British sci-fi anthology show.
The British sci-fi anthology series Black Mirror has always been a satirical look at technology folding in on itself, so it makes all the sense in the world that it would eventually become a Netflix show. The streaming network, after all, has a hint of dystopia about it, given the way it curates its original programing based on reams of viewer data. Netflix announced Monday that it will produce “multiple episodes” of Charlie Brooker’s drama, which has only aired seven episodes since it debuted on the U.K.’s Channel 4 in 2011, but which quickly became a cult sensation in the States when it started streaming online (on Netflix, naturally).
Each Black Mirror episode offers a twisted tale of technology gone wrong, with some set in a radical future, and others in the screen-addicted present (the “black mirror” of the title refers to the blank screen of a smartphone or tablet). While the premise is satirical, the tone veers wildly, from the bleak political commentary of “The National Anthem” (where social-media pressure forces the Prime Minister to commit a live-streamed act of bestiality) to the melancholy “Be Right Back,” which sees a woman try to replace her deceased boyfriend with a virtual avatar constructed from his Internet history. Brooker hasn’t produced a full episode since February 2013, but did write a Christmas special last year containing three small stories starring Jon Hamm. That was, perhaps, an acknowledgement of the show’s popularity in America, which has surely brought about its return.
Last week, an estimated 70,000 people came to Burning Man 2015, “Carnival of Mirrors,” from all over the world to dance, express themselves, and take in the spectacle.
Every year, participants in the Burning Man Festival descend on the playa of Nevada’s Black Rock Desert to form a temporary city—a self-reliant community populated by performers, artists, free spirits, and more. An estimated 70,000 people came to Burning Man 2015, “Carnival of Mirrors,” from all over the world to dance, express themselves, and take in the spectacle. Gathered below are some of the sights from the festival, photographed by Reuters photographer Jim Urquhart.
Early reviews for one of the best-loved sitcoms of the '90s called the show's stars not just "sexy" and "urbane," but also "dysfunctional morons."
There was a time when the phrases "how YOU doin'," "could I BE more excited?" and "we were on a break!" didn't make people laugh. There was a time when the unemployed twenty-somethings making their way in New York City lived in terrible apartments in Queens. There was a time when Rachel was not a haircut, when smelly cats weren't the subjects of troubadourian ballads, when friends who happened to live near each other were not also, in their way, a family.
That time was, pretty much, the entirety of human history that came before September 22, 1994—the day Friends debuted as part of NBC's Thursday-night lineup. The show would go on not only to average more than 20 million viewers (25 million as of its eighth season), but also to reach a kind of cultural ubiquity in the form of catch-phrases, quizzes, reaction gifs, and many, many knock-offs. Between TBS and Nick at Nite, Slate's Willa Paskin points out, the show "is currently rerun eight times a day."
If every intelligent species eventually stumbles on nuclear technology, and not all of them manage it well, then it might be possible to spot an apocalypse in the heavens. Or several. In July, Stevens, Forgan, and James published a paper that asked what a distant, “self-destructive civilization” might look like, through the business end of a telescope. To do so, they gamed out several dystopian science fiction scenarios, in great detail. They calculated the brightness of the gamma rays that would flash out from a massive exchange of nuclear weapons. They asked themselves what would happen if an engineered pathogen ripped through a large population of human-sized animals. What gases would fill a planet’s atmosphere, if its surface were strewn with rotting corpses? And would those gases be detectable across interstellar distances?