I’ve been thinking for a while about the priorities of the skeptical movement in general, including the importance of addressing sexism and racism, and specifically about differences in the respective treatment accorded to CAM on the one hand and Big Pharma on the other. This includes not only the overwhelming focus on CAM amongst skeptics, but the hostile and dismissive replies to criticisms of Big Pharma. There are skeptics – such as Ben Goldacre, Marcia Angell, and myself - who write about problems with both, but in the skeptical blogosphere generally serious skepticism concerning the claims and products of pharmaceutical corporations is minimized and very often met with derision, while jokes implying that “Big Pharma” itself is a silly and illusory invention are ubiquitous. Furthermore, the same sorts of evidence that are rightly rejected when coming from CAM advocates are often accepted (or at least not challenged) when presented in favor of Pharma’s products.
So I’d like to sketch out the various harms and benefits of the two, as a means, I suppose, of thinking through my own priorities and explaining my choices. Both Big Pharma and CAM cause extensive direct damage to humans and nonhuman animals, misshape our understanding of the causes of suffering, warp the scientific process and people’s understanding of what science is, misdirect energies away from more productive and just actions, waste valuable resources, and contribute to a view of ourselves which is damaging and inaccurate. I won’t be providing illustrative links for the items listed, but many examples can be found here or in the materials I’ve recommended (OK, and one new reference below).
Pharma, most obviously, makes drugs and devices that are ineffective and that harm or kill, sometimes in large numbers. They market and sell products that are ineffective, encouraging false hope. The development of their products – beneficial, neutral, and harmful; necessary and frivolous – often involves the exploitation and suffering of humans and other animals on an immense scale, both as research subjects and as the providers of needed materials.
The profit motives of pharmaceutical corporations lead to several profoundly negative effects on science. The companies prioritize the research that will benefit them, which is that which appeals to or is useful for the rich and powerful. They draw attention away from the social causes of, and responses to, suffering and illness. Both of these lead to the squandering of resources, as do the huge sums spent on marketing. They pathologize wide swaths of human thought, behavior, and suffering in order to sell treatments, in the process stigmatizing people and altering their self-conception and vision of society in the companies’ own interest, which has political ill effects.
They corrupt the scientific process, at every stage, in a huge variety of ways. They "fix" and suppress research. They work against practices of scientific sharing and openness. They corrupt medical researchers, physicians, educational institutions, scientific journals, and even ethicists, and in doing so corrupt the very foundation of medicine. They influence government in their interests. They work effectively to silence critics and to criminalize protest of their actions, enhancing corporate power and promoting a culture that is both authoritarian and insufficiently critical of human, animal, and environmental abuse and damage if it’s claimed to be in the service of medical goals. Finally, they promote a culture in which corporate science is seen as science per se, making it more difficult for science-based skepticism to get a fair hearing.
On the benefits side, pharmaceutical companies do produce useful and life-saving drugs (though the number of new ones has declined significantly over the past couple of decades). But this needs to be seen in historical context. I don’t think the argument that a system of medicine and public health dominated by corporations, given all of the negatives listed above, has been a boon to well-being in comparison to a system not based on profits and ownership but on research and production in the public interest is supportable. A system in which the power of these companies is drastically reduced would be a better one for science, medicine, and human and animal welfare and rights, and one in which they ceased to play a role altogether in favor of public control would be, in my view, best.
CAM, too, develops and uses treatments that harm humans and animals both in their development and in their use. Further, its proponents harm people by steering them away from needed effective treatments when these exist and are accessible. Though smaller in scale, the harms have to be weighed against the far smaller benefits offered by any CAM treatments. They provide false hope to suffering people, and make claims about the causes of illness and suffering that are false and distort people’s image of themselves and others, sometimes in profoundly harmful ways. Like Pharma, they ruthlessly go after and attempt to silence critics. Contrary to the self-presentation of many practitioners, CAM is big business, and economic gain is a major motive. They also corrupt scientific institutions and political agencies, though, due to their relative size and influence, to a far lesser degree than Pharma.
They cause severe epistemic damage, actually promoting practices that are not just unscientific but antiscientific. Much of CAM is not simply unsupported, but ludicrous. They promote a culture in which not corporate “science” but science itself is rejected, and in which people are led to view CAM as the sole alternative to Pharma-dominated medicine. This leads to false paths and misdirected energies amongst people with real concerns, problems, and criticisms, and to wasted resources. CAM is often racist and essentialist, both in its specific substantive claims and in its self-promotion as the alternative to “Western” science. It leads people, tragically, to see antiscientific movements as progressive, when this is the opposite of the truth. It makes the work of science-based progressive activists more difficult by encouraging the notion that there is a fundamental association between challenging the claims and actions of Pharma and challenging science, and between social justice and woo, and by misleadingly appropriating scientific criticisms for its antiscientific ends.
CAM treatments can ameliorate the suffering of people with conditions that can be genuinely helped with placebos, and its proponents do on occasion provide criticisms of corporate medicine and priorities that are accurate (though usually not original, and often set in a context of other, dubious assertions). But this amelioration pales in comparison to the harms, and their half-baked, antiscientific skepticism is used to steer people away from actions that would be productive.
So it seems criticism of both - Big Pharma and CAM – is urgently necessary. Really, the two feed each other, causing harm to human and nonhuman animals, promoting regressive politics, and weakening medicine and science. The solution isn’t a half-hearted acceptance of some aspects of each, but a rejection of both in favor of a solid science and system of public health that serves real needs and values rather than profits.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The Daily Show, the orca slavery lawsuit, and the willful ignorance of What All Good Liberals Know
Sigh. So The Daily Show lived up to my expectations in their story about PETA’s orca slavery lawsuit. I asked in October for people to try to avoid reflex ridicule and to investigate the basis for the lawsuit and the situation at SeaWorld (about which I’ve written quite a bit) before mocking it. Well, Wyatt Cenac and the show were, unsurprisingly, unable to meet even that most basic ethical standard.
When the “report” began with an uncritical presentation of a clip from Fox News I knew it wouldn’t go well.
It’s one thing to argue that particular characterizations of some forms of oppression that implicitly or explicitly compare them to others are inaccurate or offensive. Claims of offense should be taken seriously, but not simply accepted as the last word. The rejection of a characterization should be based on evidence and reason, as if made to a member of the “insulted” group who defends it. The offense could be perfectly valid, it could be ignorant, and/or it could be a means to preserve privilege; struggles for rights and against suffering, moreover, can and do justify the causing of offense in some circumstances. In the history of liberation movements, there have been many activists and oppressed people who felt solidarity with those of other oppressed groups. There have also been many who felt their precarious position threatened by other movements. This fear has long been exploited by elites to continue their rule over all of the subordinate groups.
Elaine Brown appears ignorant of the reality when she suggests that “If there is animal cruelty, we want to talk about animal cruelty, but…” There is no reference at all, in the entire piece, to orcas’ lives in the wild or in corporate theme parks. The audience is led to believe, and appears all too willing to accept, that the suit is utterly frivolous, solely about “exploiting the history of the enslavement of black people in this country for publicity.” Shockingly, they also seem to buy the absurd direct comparison of orcas in theme parks to domestic dogs and cats.
When Lisa Lange from PETA suggests that because the 13th amendment doesn’t use the word “person” or “people” in its language, they’re “hoping that a court will see that it can apply to animals,”* and Cenac replies “She’s right. If the constitution was written for people and not for whales, it would say that somewhere” while showing “We the people” on the screen, the audience responds with laughter and applause. What they and Cenac appear to be forgetting, oddly enough in this context, is that the “people” of the original Constitution did not include him, or Brown, or me, or I’m sure many members of the audience.
Rationales for the subordination of, and insults to, groups of humans have long rested on claims that they were more like nonhuman animals than other humans. This of course makes it natural that members of those groups would – as they sometimes do with other human groups – attempt to draw a bright line between themselves and all nonhuman species. But it’s cruelly ironic that they do, and counterproductive to the cause of anyone’s freedom, wherever they fall in the social hierarchy.
I’m certainly willing to entertain arguments that this lawsuit was incorrect in its reasoning or that the risk of offense should outweigh the goals. Those arguments would have to be, well, argued, however. Pointing to other tactics of PETA or any other group, or simply asserting offense or engaging in uninformed mockery, does not invalidate it. It does, though, serve the interests of those in power.
The reason I wasn’t surprised by their take was that this is one of many stories on Stewart’s show that seem to be based on What All Good Liberals Know. They know that gnu (heh) atheist arguments shouldn't be taken entirely seriously, that humans should care – though not too militantly – about nonhuman animal welfare and consider animal rights (unless, sometimes, approved) to be ridiculous, and so on. It would be an improvement if they made the slightest attempt to question these assumptions by placing themselves in the longer historical context. I’m cautiously optimistic.
*As they note, the court did not. I wasn’t expecting success for the suit – just intelligent consideration.
When the “report” began with an uncritical presentation of a clip from Fox News I knew it wouldn’t go well.
It’s one thing to argue that particular characterizations of some forms of oppression that implicitly or explicitly compare them to others are inaccurate or offensive. Claims of offense should be taken seriously, but not simply accepted as the last word. The rejection of a characterization should be based on evidence and reason, as if made to a member of the “insulted” group who defends it. The offense could be perfectly valid, it could be ignorant, and/or it could be a means to preserve privilege; struggles for rights and against suffering, moreover, can and do justify the causing of offense in some circumstances. In the history of liberation movements, there have been many activists and oppressed people who felt solidarity with those of other oppressed groups. There have also been many who felt their precarious position threatened by other movements. This fear has long been exploited by elites to continue their rule over all of the subordinate groups.
Elaine Brown appears ignorant of the reality when she suggests that “If there is animal cruelty, we want to talk about animal cruelty, but…” There is no reference at all, in the entire piece, to orcas’ lives in the wild or in corporate theme parks. The audience is led to believe, and appears all too willing to accept, that the suit is utterly frivolous, solely about “exploiting the history of the enslavement of black people in this country for publicity.” Shockingly, they also seem to buy the absurd direct comparison of orcas in theme parks to domestic dogs and cats.
When Lisa Lange from PETA suggests that because the 13th amendment doesn’t use the word “person” or “people” in its language, they’re “hoping that a court will see that it can apply to animals,”* and Cenac replies “She’s right. If the constitution was written for people and not for whales, it would say that somewhere” while showing “We the people” on the screen, the audience responds with laughter and applause. What they and Cenac appear to be forgetting, oddly enough in this context, is that the “people” of the original Constitution did not include him, or Brown, or me, or I’m sure many members of the audience.
Rationales for the subordination of, and insults to, groups of humans have long rested on claims that they were more like nonhuman animals than other humans. This of course makes it natural that members of those groups would – as they sometimes do with other human groups – attempt to draw a bright line between themselves and all nonhuman species. But it’s cruelly ironic that they do, and counterproductive to the cause of anyone’s freedom, wherever they fall in the social hierarchy.
I’m certainly willing to entertain arguments that this lawsuit was incorrect in its reasoning or that the risk of offense should outweigh the goals. Those arguments would have to be, well, argued, however. Pointing to other tactics of PETA or any other group, or simply asserting offense or engaging in uninformed mockery, does not invalidate it. It does, though, serve the interests of those in power.
The reason I wasn’t surprised by their take was that this is one of many stories on Stewart’s show that seem to be based on What All Good Liberals Know. They know that gnu (heh) atheist arguments shouldn't be taken entirely seriously, that humans should care – though not too militantly – about nonhuman animal welfare and consider animal rights (unless, sometimes, approved) to be ridiculous, and so on. It would be an improvement if they made the slightest attempt to question these assumptions by placing themselves in the longer historical context. I’m cautiously optimistic.
*As they note, the court did not. I wasn’t expecting success for the suit – just intelligent consideration.
Corey Robin, The Reactionary Mind
The Reactionary Mind: Conservatism from Edmund Burke to Sarah Palin
is a fine and insightful book. I wasn’t surprised, as I’d also been impressed with Fear several years ago (though that one gave me more to argue about).
Robin wishes to counteract what he views as misconceptions about conservatism. He argues that, contrary to the presentation of the movement by both the left and the right itself as more attitudinal than intellectual, conservatism has in fact been “an idea-driven praxis” (p. 17). Related to this, and despite his title, he wants to move away from popular accounts that root conservatism in, or indeed reduce it to, alleged psychological tendencies to ground it in both social contexts and a real and enduring intellectual tradition. He wishes to develop the “notion of the right as a set of historical improvisations on a continuous theme” (p. 38), characterizing it as a “politics of backlash” in which, across centuries and continents, we can discern “a unity, a coherent body of theory and practice” (p. 33).
Robin argues that people learn little about the history of conservative thought, and the chapters, covering Burke, Hobbes, Antonin Scalia, Ayn Rand, and a multitude of others, draw out the thinking at the heart of conservatism throughout its history. Most broadly, Robin situates the conservative tradition in the history of rebellion from below and reaction from above:
Contrary to simplistic and common characterizations of conservatism from those on the Left and from conservatives themselves portraying it as about tradition or prudence or resistance to (or fear of) change or newness, Robin makes clear that it is a particular set of movements arising in reaction to particular demands from below:
The sections on conservative writing about the so-called sublime and the experience and effects of hierarchy are, as I said, fascinating, and the examples – from Burke to Tocqueville to Schmitt to Fukuyama – do show a continuing set of themes that tie conservative thinkers together across time and place. The ways in which they see secure power and material comfort as dangerously softening and regard combat, counterrevolution, and struggle as reinvigorating and forging of excellence make for, as Robin mentions several times, a complex response to capitalism and religion. The brief discussions of conservative views of capitalism and religion are intriguing, but incomplete and not the strongest in the book.
Which brings me to the book’s flaws. Its main arguments are insightful and solid, and the quotations and historical examples are vivid illustrations (though they generally jump from centuries ago to the 20th and 21st centuries, with little about imperialism, colonialism, or even fascism). The book should have been organized around these themes. Instead, it’s a collection of writings from the past several years that have appeared elsewhere. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like the selling of books of collected pieces like this without presenting them fully as such. In this case it’s especially disappointing, as, first, the articles don’t necessarily reflect Robin’s current thinking on the questions they discuss, and, second, he wasn’t pushed to develop the ideas in them further or in engagement with the specific historical and theoretical literatures involved. (This was especially problematic in the sections about security, which were quite interesting otherwise.) It’s not difficult for the reader, having read the introduction, to pull many of the threads together, but I think it would have been a better book had Robin done that himself, and then developed his insights further. This would have taken it beyond a collection of essays. Overall, though, a useful and recommended book.
is a fine and insightful book. I wasn’t surprised, as I’d also been impressed with Fear several years ago (though that one gave me more to argue about).
Robin wishes to counteract what he views as misconceptions about conservatism. He argues that, contrary to the presentation of the movement by both the left and the right itself as more attitudinal than intellectual, conservatism has in fact been “an idea-driven praxis” (p. 17). Related to this, and despite his title, he wants to move away from popular accounts that root conservatism in, or indeed reduce it to, alleged psychological tendencies to ground it in both social contexts and a real and enduring intellectual tradition. He wishes to develop the “notion of the right as a set of historical improvisations on a continuous theme” (p. 38), characterizing it as a “politics of backlash” in which, across centuries and continents, we can discern “a unity, a coherent body of theory and practice” (p. 33).
Robin argues that people learn little about the history of conservative thought, and the chapters, covering Burke, Hobbes, Antonin Scalia, Ayn Rand, and a multitude of others, draw out the thinking at the heart of conservatism throughout its history. Most broadly, Robin situates the conservative tradition in the history of rebellion from below and reaction from above:
This book is about the second half of that story, the demarche, and the political ideas—variously called conservative, reactionary, revanchist, counterrevolutionary—that grow out of and give rise to it. These ideas, which occupy the right side of the political spectrum, are forged in battle. They always have been, at least since they first emerged as formal ideologies during the French Revolution, battles between social groups rather than nations; roughly speaking, between those with more power and those with less. To understand these ideas, we have to understand that story. For that is what conservatism is: a meditation on—and theoretical rendition of—the felt experience of having power, seeing it threatened, and trying to win it back. (p. 4)Although there’s much attention paid to conservatives seeking to protect unequal wealth and control over resources, Robin (as the passages above suggest) focuses on the defense of power, of hierarchical orders of rule. He points to “the threat Edmund Burke saw in the French Revolution: not merely an expropriation of property or explosion of violence but an inversion of the obligations of deference and command” (p. 8). The “animating purpose” of conservative (including libertarian) movements, he argues, is “the opposition to the liberation of men and women from the fetters of their superiors, particularly in the private sphere” (pp. 15-16). These practices of coercion and deference in everyday contexts like the family and the workplace, the “most personal relations of power” (p. 10), are central to the fears that propel conservative movements:
Conservatism is the theoretical voice of this animus against the agency of the subordinate classes. It provides the most consistent and profound argument as to why the lower orders should not be allowed to exercise their independent will, why they should not be allowed to govern themselves or the polity. Submission is their first duty, agency, the prerogative of the elite. (p. 7)
Behind the riot in the street or debate in Parliament is the maid talking back to her mistress, the worker disobeying her boss. (p. 10)This is the common thread tying instantiations of conservatism together. As Robin reminds us,
When the conservative looks upon a democratic movement from below, this (and the exercise of agency) is what he sees: a terrible disturbance in the private life of power. (p. 12)
Today’s conservative may have made his peace with some emancipations past; others, like labor unions and reproductive freedom, he still contests. But that does not alter the fact that when those emancipations first arose as a question, whether in the context of revolution or reform, his predecessor was in all likelihood against them. (p. 27)He argues that this has important implications. Conservatism appeals not just to those at the top of hierarchies of rule, but also – and perhaps with special force - to those closer to the bottom. As he writes of white people in the Old South:
Though the members of this ruling class knew that they were not equal to each other, they were compensated by the illusion of superiority – and the reality of rule – over the black population beneath them. (p. 55)This illusion of superiority and the sense of self as master are what’s threatened by liberation movements from below, and that, Robin argues, can make reformists into reactionaries (p. 12). He points to the fact that the constituency of the conservative movement is those experiencing this loss or its possibility:
People on the left often fail to realize this, but conservatism really does speak to and for people who have lost something. It may be a landed estate or the privileges of white skin, the unquestioned authority of a husband or the untrammeled rights of a factory owner. The loss may be as material as money or as ethereal as a sense of standing. It may be a loss of something that was never legitimately owned in the first place; it may, when compared with what the conservative retains, be small. Even so, it is a loss, and nothing is ever so cherished as that which we no longer possess. (pp. 58-59)He correctly points out that it’s the Right that is currently reminding the “losers” of this, but it’s worth noting that of course the Right has created and lives by the situation in which these hierarchies exist in the first place, and that in the larger sense the losses are less than the gains, even for those who are not at the bottom. (Power is not, as Robin suggests, zero-sum. The assertion that the patriarchy and other hierarchies hurt everyone is not merely feel-good platitude or a cynical ploy by liberation movements to make their demands more palatable; it is a fact.) In any case, he’s right when he notes that here lies “what is truly bizarre about conservatism: a ruling class resting its claim to power upon its sense of victimhood, arguably for the first time in history” (p. 97).
Contrary to simplistic and common characterizations of conservatism from those on the Left and from conservatives themselves portraying it as about tradition or prudence or resistance to (or fear of) change or newness, Robin makes clear that it is a particular set of movements arising in reaction to particular demands from below:
[I]t is important that we be clear about what the conservative is and is not opposing in the left. It is not change in the abstract. No conservative opposes change as such or defends order as such. The conservative defends particular orders—hierarchical, often private regimes of rule—on the assumption, in part, that hierarchy is order. (p. 24)This foundation means that conservatism as an ideology and practice is often characterized by extreme and even radical doctrines and actions. It’s a social movement of reaction, but that doesn’t make it any less a social movement. The story often heard about a proper “conservative conservatism” that lost its moderation or has been taken over by radicals is historically inaccurate, Robin argues:
Conservatism is about power besieged and power protected. It is an activist doctrine for an activist time. (p. 28)
What this story of decline over-looks—whether it emanates from the right or the left—is that all of these supposed vices of contemporary conservatism were present at the beginning, in the writings of Burke and Maistre, only they weren’t viewed as vices. They were seen as virtues. (p. 43)In this, conservatives have learned from and mimicked the mobilization techniques and language of the Left and used them to their advantage. They’ve worked to build a mass movement to “make privilege popular…which brings the energy and dynamism of the street to the antique inequalities of a dilapidated estate.” (p. 43) Robin sums up:
Whether in Europe or the United States, in this century or previous ones, conservatism has been a forward movement of restless and relentless change, partial to risk taking and ideological adventurism, militant in its posture and populist in its bearings, friendly to upstarts and insurgents, outsiders and newcomers alike. (p. 42)
That is the task of right-wing populism: to appeal to the mass without disrupting the power of elites or, more precisely, to harness the energy of the mass in order to reinforce or restore the power of elites. Far from being a recent innovation of the Christian Right or the Tea Party movement, reactionary populism runs like a red thread throughout conservative discourse from the very beginning. (p. 55)What is the intellectual underpinning of this attachment to hierarchy? Robin argues that it is a particular “vision of the connection between excellence and rule” (p. 15). Conservative thought is “[n]o simple defense of one’s own place and privileges” (the conservative “may or may not be directly involved in or benefit from the practices of rule he defends”), but “stems from a genuine conviction that a world thus emancipated will be ugly, brutish, base, and dull. It will lack the excellence of a world where the better man commands the worse.” (p. 16) “For many,” he says,
the word ‘reaction’ connotes an unthinking, lowly grab for power. But reaction is not reflex. It begins from a position of principle—that some are fit, and thus ought, to rule others—and then recalibrates that principle in light of a democratic challenge from below. This recalibration is no easy task, for such challenges tend by their very nature to disprove the principle. (p. 18)There’s much in the book that’s fascinating about romantic notions of struggle and excellence and the conservative focus on “sublimity” through hierarchy and violence, including counter-revolutionary violence – how the conservative intellectual tradition has seen hierarchy, pain, and danger as positively affecting the self. “Indulging in political romanticism,” Robin asserts,
they draw from the stock-in-trade of the counter-Enlightenment, celebrating the intoxicating vitality of struggle while denouncing the bloodless norms of reason and rights. (p. 113)Robin makes it a point to note that when he talks about the centrality of violence in conservatism his “concern is with ideas and argument rather than character or psychology. Violence, the conservative intellectual has maintained, is one of the experiences in life that makes us feel the most alive, and violence is an activity that makes life, well, lively” (p. 218).
Far from being saddened, burdened, or vexed by violence, the conservative has been enlivened by it. (p. 217)
The sections on conservative writing about the so-called sublime and the experience and effects of hierarchy are, as I said, fascinating, and the examples – from Burke to Tocqueville to Schmitt to Fukuyama – do show a continuing set of themes that tie conservative thinkers together across time and place. The ways in which they see secure power and material comfort as dangerously softening and regard combat, counterrevolution, and struggle as reinvigorating and forging of excellence make for, as Robin mentions several times, a complex response to capitalism and religion. The brief discussions of conservative views of capitalism and religion are intriguing, but incomplete and not the strongest in the book.
Which brings me to the book’s flaws. Its main arguments are insightful and solid, and the quotations and historical examples are vivid illustrations (though they generally jump from centuries ago to the 20th and 21st centuries, with little about imperialism, colonialism, or even fascism). The book should have been organized around these themes. Instead, it’s a collection of writings from the past several years that have appeared elsewhere. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like the selling of books of collected pieces like this without presenting them fully as such. In this case it’s especially disappointing, as, first, the articles don’t necessarily reflect Robin’s current thinking on the questions they discuss, and, second, he wasn’t pushed to develop the ideas in them further or in engagement with the specific historical and theoretical literatures involved. (This was especially problematic in the sections about security, which were quite interesting otherwise.) It’s not difficult for the reader, having read the introduction, to pull many of the threads together, but I think it would have been a better book had Robin done that himself, and then developed his insights further. This would have taken it beyond a collection of essays. Overall, though, a useful and recommended book.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Resentment, ressentiment, and justice after mass crimes: Brudholm and Fassin
I’ve had the Somatosphere in my feeds for a little while since they were covering the Risperdal trial. I wasn’t sure if it fit with my interests more broadly, and almost dropped it. I was pleased that I hadn’t the other day when they linked to Didier Fassin speaking at Harvard Medical School about moral anthropology and the difference between resentment and ressentiment. Here’s the “video” (really just audio with a picture of Fassin):
There’s been a lot of discussion in recent months about anger, forgiveness, and punishment, and just after seeing the video I’d excitedly begun writing up a short post about it: “Drawing on the work on Jean Améry and others and on his own fieldwork in South Africa and France, Fassin sketches out a challenge the general fetishization of forgiveness, amnesty, and reconciliation which holds sway at present and, in my view, fails to appreciate perpetrators of state or corporate violence as moral agents or the broader sociological context….”
The work of Améry sounded so important to me that before I even posted I did an Amazon search, and one of the first related books listed was Thomas Brudholm’s 2008 Resentment’s Virtue: Jean Améry and the Refusal to Forgive, which I’ve now read.
Brudholm writes:
So I’d been planning to recommend the Fassin talk, but after reading the Brudholm book I’m of course suggesting that instead. It’s divided into two parts – the first about the South African TRC, and in particular the views of Desmond Tutu and other leaders concerning victims who are unwilling to forgive and reconcile, and the second a detailed examination of Améry’s essays. The two halves don’t blend seamlessly, but they certainly make sense together and are independently strong. I was somewhat surprised at the lack of attention to South America, but one aspect I found intriguing was the evident religious aspects of the “logic of forgiveness.” I was hoping that Brudholm would elaborate on this when I happily discovered that his previous book was The Religious in Responses to Mass Atrocity: Interdisciplinary Perspectives
(…and then unhappily discovered that it’s the most expensive Kindle book I’ve ever seen).
There’s been a lot of discussion in recent months about anger, forgiveness, and punishment, and just after seeing the video I’d excitedly begun writing up a short post about it: “Drawing on the work on Jean Améry and others and on his own fieldwork in South Africa and France, Fassin sketches out a challenge the general fetishization of forgiveness, amnesty, and reconciliation which holds sway at present and, in my view, fails to appreciate perpetrators of state or corporate violence as moral agents or the broader sociological context….”
The work of Améry sounded so important to me that before I even posted I did an Amazon search, and one of the first related books listed was Thomas Brudholm’s 2008 Resentment’s Virtue: Jean Améry and the Refusal to Forgive, which I’ve now read.
Brudholm writes:
This book offers a counterpoint to the near-hegemonic status afforded to the logic of forgiveness in the literatures on transitional justice and reconciliation…. It is meant to complement the scores of writings in which outrage, resentment, and refusals to forgive or reconcile are hastily rejected as the negative to be overcome: the irrational, immoral, and unhealthy or understandable but unfortunate attitudes of victims who are not-at least not yet- "ready" or "capable" of forgiving and healing.It’s significant, readable, and fair. The odd thing is how similar Fassin’s presentation is to Brudholm’s work. It recapitulates some aspects – down to the focus on the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission - but doesn’t go much beyond Brudholm’s far more comprehensive treatment. (Fassin does talk about ressentiment in relation to the response to AIDS drugs by the Mbeke government, which could be, and really would have to be, fleshed out to contribute something original to the discussion from the perspective of medical anthropology.) It’s quite strange.
…I argue that, in some circumstances, the preservation of outrage or resentment and the refusal to forgive and reconcile can be the reflex expression of a moral protest and ambition that might be as permissible and admirable as the posture of forgiveness. When this possibility is neglected and when advocates or scholars arguing the case for forgiveness and healing lose sight of the contestability of the values they promote, they also lose sight of the possible moral legitimacy of some victims' preservation of resentment. This neglect is not fair-and in fact it can be deeply offensive. (pp. 3-4)
So I’d been planning to recommend the Fassin talk, but after reading the Brudholm book I’m of course suggesting that instead. It’s divided into two parts – the first about the South African TRC, and in particular the views of Desmond Tutu and other leaders concerning victims who are unwilling to forgive and reconcile, and the second a detailed examination of Améry’s essays. The two halves don’t blend seamlessly, but they certainly make sense together and are independently strong. I was somewhat surprised at the lack of attention to South America, but one aspect I found intriguing was the evident religious aspects of the “logic of forgiveness.” I was hoping that Brudholm would elaborate on this when I happily discovered that his previous book was The Religious in Responses to Mass Atrocity: Interdisciplinary Perspectives
(…and then unhappily discovered that it’s the most expensive Kindle book I’ve ever seen).
Saturday, February 11, 2012
I get around
In the past few weeks I also visited the Hill-Stead Museum in Farmington, Connecticut. It’s the former home of Theodate Pope Riddle, the architect who designed not only the home itself but the Avon Old Farms School, amongst others.
I learned a few new facts about her, including that she was originally named Effie but later adopted the family name Theodate because it was not so recognizably female – helpful for a woman in a male-dominated profession like architecture. (Many women then and today, of course, use their initials; hers was an interesting choice.) She was also a spiritualist – which I gathered from the spines of the books in the fascinating library – who, unhappy with the leadership and direction of the spiritualist movement in the US, traveled to Britain to meet with spiritualist leaders there…on the Lusitania. She survived; her maid and friend were killed.
The Pope family were avid art collectors, and it’s a thrill to be able to walk up to gorgeous works by Monet, Manet, Degas, Whistler, and Cassatt in the rooms of a home. The museum is also featuring a changing exhibit of prints from their archives, which is wonderful.
One of the best, and unexpected, aspects of our visit was a group of wind sculptures by Lyman Whitaker at the entrance to the museum. They were great fun to photograph. Here’s my favorite:
I learned a few new facts about her, including that she was originally named Effie but later adopted the family name Theodate because it was not so recognizably female – helpful for a woman in a male-dominated profession like architecture. (Many women then and today, of course, use their initials; hers was an interesting choice.) She was also a spiritualist – which I gathered from the spines of the books in the fascinating library – who, unhappy with the leadership and direction of the spiritualist movement in the US, traveled to Britain to meet with spiritualist leaders there…on the Lusitania. She survived; her maid and friend were killed.
The Pope family were avid art collectors, and it’s a thrill to be able to walk up to gorgeous works by Monet, Manet, Degas, Whistler, and Cassatt in the rooms of a home. The museum is also featuring a changing exhibit of prints from their archives, which is wonderful.
One of the best, and unexpected, aspects of our visit was a group of wind sculptures by Lyman Whitaker at the entrance to the museum. They were great fun to photograph. Here’s my favorite:
My hedonistic New York City weekend
A few weeks ago I popped over to New York for one of my unfortunately rare weekend visits. It was as decadent as ever, and full of new places to visit (at night – we didn’t get out much in the daylight) and recommend.
We started with a Friday early-evening gathering in the upstairs bar at Cienfuegos on Avenue A, a tropical oasis where they serve a variety of fizzy rum punches in punchbowls with ladles. Fun. We probably wouldn’t have ordered the second bowl had we known our companions would leave it all to us. (Oh, who am I kidding?) Thank Bacchus, we had some food there as well, which was surprisingly good.
We then moved on to Poco, an elegant and bustling tapas bar on Avenue B. I almost wished I hadn’t eaten at Cienfuegos, as the spinach and wild mushroom macaroni & cheese was one of the best things I’ve ever had. If I could be eating it now, I would. The mushroom truffle croquettes were also nice. I think there was champagne….
From there we went to meet friends at Jimmy, the rooftop bar at the James Hotel. It’s entered through a nondescript door, a velvet rope, and a few more what I can only describe as coolness checkpoints. I love this from the hotel’s page:
It is beautiful. In the summer there’s a small pool, which of course wasn’t open at this time of year. Possibly the best views of the city I’ve seen:
[photo from link just above]
Closed out the night at our usual dive, which shall remain anonymous. Didn’t go to Odessa for early-morning food, which would’ve been wise.
We had a lovely dinner on Saturday when we finally made it out at around 9. Can’t remember the name of the restaurant.
Sunday brunch was at Rayuela on Allen St. I loved the open design, the food was a step above (desserts were artful), and they had open cava sangria, which is a great deal especially as my glass was never unfilled.
Everyone was super nice, and my friends are always the best. I was reminded of why I love New York…and why it would be dangerous to live there :). For anyone planning a visit, I’d recommend any of the places I mentioned above unreservedly.
We started with a Friday early-evening gathering in the upstairs bar at Cienfuegos on Avenue A, a tropical oasis where they serve a variety of fizzy rum punches in punchbowls with ladles. Fun. We probably wouldn’t have ordered the second bowl had we known our companions would leave it all to us. (Oh, who am I kidding?) Thank Bacchus, we had some food there as well, which was surprisingly good.
We then moved on to Poco, an elegant and bustling tapas bar on Avenue B. I almost wished I hadn’t eaten at Cienfuegos, as the spinach and wild mushroom macaroni & cheese was one of the best things I’ve ever had. If I could be eating it now, I would. The mushroom truffle croquettes were also nice. I think there was champagne….
From there we went to meet friends at Jimmy, the rooftop bar at the James Hotel. It’s entered through a nondescript door, a velvet rope, and a few more what I can only describe as coolness checkpoints. I love this from the hotel’s page:
*JIMMY is accessible to all hotel guests until 9 pm. After 9 pm there is a controlled entrance on the ground floor. If JIMMY is closed for a private event or unable to accommodate, you are welcome to enjoy cocktails at The Treehouse Bar, The Garden, or David Burke Kitchen Bar. We apologize for our success as our limited rooftop space and popular demand limits the number of guests we can welcome at one time.Even if you’re paying hundreds of dollars a night to stay at the hotel, you still might not make the cut. You can’t buy cool.
It is beautiful. In the summer there’s a small pool, which of course wasn’t open at this time of year. Possibly the best views of the city I’ve seen:
[photo from link just above]
Closed out the night at our usual dive, which shall remain anonymous. Didn’t go to Odessa for early-morning food, which would’ve been wise.
We had a lovely dinner on Saturday when we finally made it out at around 9. Can’t remember the name of the restaurant.
Sunday brunch was at Rayuela on Allen St. I loved the open design, the food was a step above (desserts were artful), and they had open cava sangria, which is a great deal especially as my glass was never unfilled.
Everyone was super nice, and my friends are always the best. I was reminded of why I love New York…and why it would be dangerous to live there :). For anyone planning a visit, I’d recommend any of the places I mentioned above unreservedly.
Cordelia Fine should be invited to speak at skeptic events
I’ve had occasion to link to this article from last year by Cordelia Fine, “Let’s say good-bye to the straw feminist,” a few times in various places over the past few weeks, so I thought I’d put a link to it here while I’m praising her efforts generally. In it, she goes after the tired claim that those challenging essentialist claims about sex differences are desperate ideologues facing off against the hard-nosed representatives of cold science, correctly arguing that those making this claim are constructing a straw-feminist:
[A]gain and again I argue that – because of under-acknowledgment of social factors, spurious results, poor methodologies, and untested assumptions – the evidence scientists and commentators provide as support for essentialist claims is simply not as strong as they seem to think.I think Fine should be invited to speak at more skeptic events. (I don’t know her at all and have no idea if she’s interested or available to do so, but I think invitations should be offered.) Here she is at the Festival of Dangerous Ideas in Sydney in 2010*:
It’s portraying those who challenge scientific claims about essentially different male and female minds as more interested in politics than science. Let’s say good-bye to that straw-feminist. And, while she’s leaving, let’s also close the door behind her antithesis, the value-free mouthpiece of scientific facts. These characterizations aren’t just inaccurate, they’re also unproductive. Progress will be faster if we move beyond stereotypes and start thinking about the relationship between science and politics in this debate in a more sophisticated way.
Cordelia Fine: Delusions of Gender from Australian Broadcasting Corporation on FORA.tv
I find her an engaging speaker, but more generally I think that the beliefs underlying sexism (and racism) haven’t been sufficiently subjected to critical analysis in the skeptical community, where they are commonly expressed and where the straw-feminist and straw-antiracist are frequent and annoying guests.
*At one point, she’s talking about the misuse and misleading presentation of brain-scans, which I was just mentioning in another context.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
More cat woo: Reiki for cats
Natalie Reed, who has an excellent and illuminating blog, posted the other day about her disappointment at finding that a site ostensibly offering health information for trans people was in actuality peddling Reiki.
Since I’d just posted about cat woo, including about a “spirit essence” purported to contain “Reiki Energy,” I thought I’d look into whether there was Reiki for cats. Of course there is:
This site is rather infuriating, advocating Reiki for cats with leukemia. But this part had me laughing:
Since I’d just posted about cat woo, including about a “spirit essence” purported to contain “Reiki Energy,” I thought I’d look into whether there was Reiki for cats. Of course there is:
This site is rather infuriating, advocating Reiki for cats with leukemia. But this part had me laughing:
Ultimately, however, I advise against forcing your cat to sit still while you share Reiki with them. They know how much energy they need and can freely choose to stop accepting the Reiki.Indeed. There’s a cat a few feet from me, curled in a fluffy ball against a teddy bear, and I suspect any attempt at Reiki would have a bloody result.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Oh, no! Cat woo!
I admitted a while back that my new favorite television show was Revenge. I’m only slightly less sheepish talking about another new favorite: My Cat From Hell. This was actually the first episode I saw:
It’s seriously entertaining, and the cat behavioral expert, Jackson Galaxy, seems to me to be a genuinely nice guy who gives generally good and effective suggestions (though I suppose the failures wouldn’t make it on the show). The cats’ behavior and the lengths to which humans will go to work around it are shocking and hilarious. It’s funny to think that someone could be so “terrorized by Mr. Fluff” that he’d contemplate moving, but when you see the situation you understand.
I’d planned to do a quick little post last week about my enjoyment of the show, but when I went in search of more information I came upon something disturbing. Jackson Galaxy is selling cat woo. I’m not opposed to the suggestion that there might be a soothing herb that could be properly tested (especially if tried in place of what the people and even Galaxy himself sometimes go for – psychotropic drugs like Prozac [!!!]); catnip, after all, is a plant). But this is downright silly. This, for example, is the “spirit essences report” for Stella. One of the recommended products is something called “Trauma-Free.” Here’s the product description:
On a cat.
[Source]
It’s seriously entertaining, and the cat behavioral expert, Jackson Galaxy, seems to me to be a genuinely nice guy who gives generally good and effective suggestions (though I suppose the failures wouldn’t make it on the show). The cats’ behavior and the lengths to which humans will go to work around it are shocking and hilarious. It’s funny to think that someone could be so “terrorized by Mr. Fluff” that he’d contemplate moving, but when you see the situation you understand.
I’d planned to do a quick little post last week about my enjoyment of the show, but when I went in search of more information I came upon something disturbing. Jackson Galaxy is selling cat woo. I’m not opposed to the suggestion that there might be a soothing herb that could be properly tested (especially if tried in place of what the people and even Galaxy himself sometimes go for – psychotropic drugs like Prozac [!!!]); catnip, after all, is a plant). But this is downright silly. This, for example, is the “spirit essences report” for Stella. One of the recommended products is something called “Trauma-Free.” Here’s the product description:
This product is formulated for all animals.I watched the episode with Stella more closely, and noticed that he hadn’t, as I’d originally thought, just sent her to a veterinarian, but apparently to a "holistic" veterinarian, who was then shown performing acupuncture.
Much has been documented about the debilitating effects of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) in humans, but little attention has been paid to our animal counterparts.
Whether they have suffered from neglect or abuse, or fear specific sights, sounds or people they associate with negative events, Trauma-Free helps animals release the emotional "baggage" that they have accumulated. Most importantly, this remedy facilitates freedom from the past, allowing our companions to live as nature intented them to - fully alive in the moment.
Product Ingredients
This remedy contains Eldorado Natural Spring Water, Ethanol (as a preservative), Essence of Full Color Spectrum, Reiki Energy, Michael's Energy Water and the following essences:
From Flower Essence Society Healing Herbs (Bach Flower Equivalent): Pine, Star of Bethlehem, Water Violet, Wild Rose.
From Flower Essence Society: Arnica, Echinacea, Evening Primrose, Love-Lies-Bleeding
From Rocky Mountain Essences: Heartleaf Arnica, Lodgepole Pine, Twisted Pine
From Pacific Essences: Diatoms, Snowberry
From Watersong Sanctuary: Orange Flowers, Prickly Pear Cactus
From Aum Himalaya Essences: Swallow Wart
From Kuau'i Starmen Essences: Avocado, Canna Lily, Haha
From Green Hope farm: Crinum Lily, Dill, Russian Sage, Uncarina Grandidieri [my emphasis]
On a cat.
[Source]More unraveling: ADD and Ritalin
I’ve posted a little bit about the intense and widespread criticism of the DSM-5. (For up-to-the-minute news and commentary, see The Blog Formerly Known as DSM-5 Wat…er, Dx Revision Watch.)
I mentioned in concluding a recent post that
One point Sroufe raises relates to something that’s bothered me for some time – the making of claims about psychological differences based on the use of brain scans (even assuming the interpretations of these scans are correct and complete, which is often not the case):
I mentioned in concluding a recent post that
what we may be witnessing with the broad challenges to the DSM-5 is the beginning of the end for this psychiatric model. Its flaws, failures, and cooptation by corporate interests are becoming more widely known, and it’s unraveling. Efforts at evasion and intimidation like these merely dramatize the process.And we’re now seeing another thread pulled away. An op-ed last week in the New York Times by L. Alan Sroufe* explains that the psychotropic drugs used to treat Attention Deficit Disorder, the use of which has grown dramatically along with the diagnosis, don’t work. Moreover, they’re likely to have negative long-term effects, and are based on an unfounded belief in the etiology and nature of the “disorder” and the drugs’ mechanism of action.
One point Sroufe raises relates to something that’s bothered me for some time – the making of claims about psychological differences based on the use of brain scans (even assuming the interpretations of these scans are correct and complete, which is often not the case):
[F]indings in neuroscience are being used to prop up the argument for drugs to treat the hypothesized “inborn defect.” These studies show that children who receive an A.D.D. diagnosis have different patterns of neurotransmitters in their brains and other anomalies. While the technological sophistication of these studies may impress parents and nonprofessionals, they can be misleading. Of course the brains of children with behavior problems will show anomalies on brain scans. It could not be otherwise. Behavior and the brain are intertwined. Depression also waxes and wanes in many people, and as it does so, parallel changes in brain functioning occur, regardless of medication.Incidentally, here’s another relevant article from last month, this one by Bruce Levine: “America's Mental Health Industry Is a Threat to Our Sanity.” Levine lists seven reasons why this is so. I’ll quote the last, which is so often ignored:
…However brain functioning is measured, these studies tell us nothing about whether the observed anomalies were present at birth or whether they resulted from trauma, chronic stress or other early-childhood experiences. One of the most profound findings in behavioral neuroscience in recent years has been the clear evidence that the developing brain is shaped by experience.
…[O]nly one question is asked: are there aspects of brain functioning associated with childhood attention problems? The answer is always yes. Overlooked is the very real possibility that both the brain anomalies and the A.D.D. result from experience.
7. Diversion from Societal, Cultural and Political Sources of Misery*[via Hooked – the post there is worth reading as well]
When we hear the words disorder, disease or illness, we think of an individual in need of treatment, not of a troubled society in need of transformation. Mental illness expansionism diverts us from examining a dehumanizing society.
In addition to pathologizing normal behavior, the mental health profession also diverts us from examining a society that creates the ingredients—helplessness, hopelessness, passivity, boredom, fear, and isolation—that cause emotional difficulties. We are diverted from the reality that many emotional problems are natural human reactions to loss in our society of autonomy and community. Thus, the mental health profession not only has financial value for drug companies but it has political value for those at the top of societal hierarchies who want to retain the status quo. [my emphasis]
Fighting the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act
I posted last week about the harassment and intimidation of animal rights and environmental activists and writers under the banner of the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, focusing on the case of author and journalist Will Potter. Here’s a great interview with Potter about his story and the AETA context:
And here’s a short piece by Potter about it in Jurist.* He concludes:
*(in which he quotes the law’s supporters absurdly and sickeningly equating it to hate crimes legislation)
And here’s a short piece by Potter about it in Jurist.* He concludes:
Regardless of how one feels about animal rights or animal rights activists, the targeting of political activists as "terrorists" because they cause a loss of corporate profits sets a dangerous precedent. Occupy Wall Street, for example, clearly is focused on challenging corporate power and has utilized a diversity of tactics currently classified as "animal enterprise terrorism," including non-violent civil disobedience and home demonstrations. If this legislation is not overturned, it will be the blueprint for targeting all protesters that pose a threat to business as usual.As Potter discusses, the AETA is being challenged in court by the Center for Constitutional Rights. The CCR describes Blum v. Holder:
Blum v. Holder is a facial challenge to the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act (AETA.) Passed by Congress in November 2006, the AETA is aimed at suppressing speech and advocacy surrounding certain industries by criminalizing First Amendment-protected activities such as protests, boycotts, picketing and whistle-blowing. The statute punishes anyone found to have caused the loss of property or profits by a business or other institution that uses or sells animals (or animal products), or has “a connection to, relationship with, or transactions with an animal enterprise.”I’ll be following the case here.
Pushed through Congress by a powerful lobby of pharmaceutical corporations and groups like the Fur Commission USA and the National Cattlemen's Beef Association, the AETA is an unconstitutional law because it criminalizes a broad swath of protected First Amendment activities and is so unclear as to fail to give people notice of whether or not their conduct is lawful.
The Blum plaintiffs are animal rights activists from across the country who are chilled from continuing their lawful and important advocacy work based on the broad reach of the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act.
*(in which he quotes the law’s supporters absurdly and sickeningly equating it to hate crimes legislation)
Monday, January 30, 2012
Interlude - Bach Cello Suites
I’m young and in another world, thinking of hollowness and stairs. I go to buy a Bach Cello Suites CD.
The store is almost empty. I’m happy - don’t bother to hear the piped sound.
“So, you like Classical music?” “You like this?”
I smile shyly, blushing. “Yes.” Hollowness and stairs. I just want my music. Leave me the hell alone.
“Do you like this one better than…?”
I try to be polite, answer vaguely, nod, move away.
“I’ll come up with you.”
He follows me to the counter, enters my personal information.
The store is almost empty. I’m happy - don’t bother to hear the piped sound.
“So, you like Classical music?” “You like this?”
I smile shyly, blushing. “Yes.” Hollowness and stairs. I just want my music. Leave me the hell alone.
“Do you like this one better than…?”
I try to be polite, answer vaguely, nod, move away.
“I’ll come up with you.”
He follows me to the counter, enters my personal information.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
The Lavender Scare and American Science in an Age of Anxiety
It was largely a coincidence that I read Jessica Wang’s 1999 American Science in an Age of Anxiety: Scientists, Anticommunism, and the Cold War
and David K. Johnson’s 2004 The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government
at about the same time recently. As it turned out, they complemented each other quite well. Both deal with Cold War witch hunts (metaphorical - not literal), their effects on the people targeted, and individual and organized opposition to persecution.
What makes the two books work so well together – and makes them so useful for the student of activism – is that, because of differences emerging in their methods of resistance in these years, the two targeted groups described in the books had very different trajectories. The scientific community left behind outspoken and organized public struggles in favor of working to advocate for individuals through private or official channels and forming alliances within the government, and as a result lost its effectiveness both in terms of individual advocacy and in terms of fighting for a different public role for science. As Wang describes:
Both books provided historical information that was new to me. I had little knowledge, for example, of the history of immediate-postwar scientific movements or the variety of visions of democratic science originating in the political ferment of the 1930s:
although I haven’t been able to find information about its release.
Johnson in the book on the Lavender Scare does refer to the intersecting persecution of scientists (it’s noteworthy that Frank Kameny was a scientist), but Wang in her history of scientists and anticommunism doesn’t talk about the Lavender Scare (even at some moments expressing confusion as to why certain scientists were singled out, when Johnson shows that it was because of their sexuality). I don’t think this was intentional on her part, but it’s unfortunate that this aspect is neglected in her work as in others on the era. In any case, as I said, the two books pair up nicely, and I’d recommend both.
*An argument that open, organized public protest in this era was more accessible to or likely to succeed for gay people than scientists (many of whom had already engaged in it) would be an interesting one, but I think difficult to sustain.
**Both the pre- and postwar histories shed critical light on silly nostalgic portrayals of the 1950s as a high point for American science and its public role.
and David K. Johnson’s 2004 The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government
at about the same time recently. As it turned out, they complemented each other quite well. Both deal with Cold War witch hunts (metaphorical - not literal), their effects on the people targeted, and individual and organized opposition to persecution.
What makes the two books work so well together – and makes them so useful for the student of activism – is that, because of differences emerging in their methods of resistance in these years, the two targeted groups described in the books had very different trajectories. The scientific community left behind outspoken and organized public struggles in favor of working to advocate for individuals through private or official channels and forming alliances within the government, and as a result lost its effectiveness both in terms of individual advocacy and in terms of fighting for a different public role for science. As Wang describes:
The political culture of Cold War liberalism celebrated the potential of the bureaucratic state, privileging procedural reform over principle, and process over fundamental questions of value. In the late 1940s, many scientists began to confine their actions within the rhetorical and political boundaries of Cold War liberalism. Increasingly, scientists turned away from a progressive left rhetorical style that emphasized fundamental civil libertarian principles. Instead, they relied on more limited procedural reforms, most notably the protection of due process rights, to counter the threat to political freedom posed by the loyalty-security system (p. 8).In contrast, gay activists increasingly left behind quieter individual support in favor of open challenges, developing organized direct-action strategies which brought great successes and formed the basis for the later mass movement:
Scientists' public resistance to anticommunism was tempered by both fear of increased repression and the politically safer route of quietly building alliances within the Atomic Energy Commission and other receptive government agencies in order to mitigate the adverse effects of the loyalty-security system. Scientists achieved some short-term successes in limiting the impact of security investigations on scientists, but ultimately the safer strategy was self-defeating. By earning concessions through unobtrusive, backroom negotiations with government officials and deliberately avoiding public scrutiny, scientists failed to develop public political means of countering the growing ideological demands of the Cold War era. Their alliance with federal agencies bought time, but eventually time ran out. In 1949, scientists and the AEC lost a key political battle with Congress over the AEC fellowship program. Thereafter, the scope of anticommunist attacks on scientists expanded steadily for the next several years (pp. 7-8).
Though [the Stonewall riots are] commonly seen as the beginning of the gay rights movement, by the time those gay, lesbian, and transsexual bar patrons fought a routine police raid, the movement had already won its first major legal victory and had established much of the rhetoric and tactics it would deploy over the next thirty years (Johnson, p. 211).They’re only two cases, and of course they’re not perfectly comparable,* but the contrasting histories add two data points to our knowledge about social movement methods and their results.
Both books provided historical information that was new to me. I had little knowledge, for example, of the history of immediate-postwar scientific movements or the variety of visions of democratic science originating in the political ferment of the 1930s:
Following a path with few antecedents for American science, ordinary scientists turned to the political realm, where they explored a new synthesis of science, mass-based politics, and the legislative process in order to shape the contours of postwar nuclear policy and the institutional structure of science. As they did so, scientists began to recast their own political identity, pursue fundamental changes in the science-government partnership, and rethink the basic nature of the relationship between science and society (pp. 1-2).**Similarly, I knew little of the lively wartime gay culture in Washington, DC, which forms a stark contrast to the climate of fear in the persecutory postwar era. And I hadn’t previously recognized the importance of this early activism to later gay rights struggles. I was pleased to learn recently that the book is the basis for a new film
although I haven’t been able to find information about its release.
Johnson in the book on the Lavender Scare does refer to the intersecting persecution of scientists (it’s noteworthy that Frank Kameny was a scientist), but Wang in her history of scientists and anticommunism doesn’t talk about the Lavender Scare (even at some moments expressing confusion as to why certain scientists were singled out, when Johnson shows that it was because of their sexuality). I don’t think this was intentional on her part, but it’s unfortunate that this aspect is neglected in her work as in others on the era. In any case, as I said, the two books pair up nicely, and I’d recommend both.
*An argument that open, organized public protest in this era was more accessible to or likely to succeed for gay people than scientists (many of whom had already engaged in it) would be an interesting one, but I think difficult to sustain.
**Both the pre- and postwar histories shed critical light on silly nostalgic portrayals of the 1950s as a high point for American science and its public role.
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