John C. Dvorak wrote a really nice piece on Net Neutrality the other day, and another informative one was published in yesterday’s Op-Ed section of the NY Times. On one side of this debate there are those that advocate trust in the market, on the other are those that want to trust the government to protect us from exploitative practices of telecommunication giants. I don’t think we should trust the market or the government here. We certainly need some safeguards to stop exploitative practices that actually work against market competition rather than promoting it (for instance Verizon banning Skype on their broadband so you have to use their client for a similar service). But the F.C.C. as the internet police may be a medicine that does more harm than the disease. When I think of all the ridiculous censorship cases in radio and T.V. that occurred over the past decades, I shutter to think what will happen when these regulators get their hands on the internet. Yikes!
More from Eva Illouz’s outstanding essay. Illouz goes on to look at the modern statement of disenchantment and what it does to romantic relationships. Our need to understand everything in terms of enlightened rationality pushes us attempt to understand the phenomenon of falling in love in largely psychological, psychoanalytic, or biological terms. These scientific explanations “undermine the view of love as an ineffable, unique, and quasi-mystical experience, ultimately undermining both its absoluteness and uniqueness.”
Love no longer becomes ineffable and mystical because when you fall in love, you’re really either reliving an early developmental psycho-drama, or you say someone that flooded you with a combination of dopamine and testosterone and host of other biochemical treats, or you’re falling prey to thousands of years of evolutionary development and your genes have told you the one in front of you is the one who can best guarantee their survival. Love falls prey to the scientific rationality just like every other sphere of life:
Scientific modes of explanation, psychological, biological, evolutionary, by their nature tend to be abstract and extraneous to the categories of felt and lived experience. In contrast, premodern religious explanations that viewed intense love as the manifestation of spirit possession or as a temporary loss of Reason still resonated with the felt experience of the subject. Scientific explanations reduce love to an epiphenomenon, a mere effect of prior causes that are unseen and unfelt by the subject, and that are neither mystical nor singular but rather located in involuntary and almost mechanical, psychic or chemical, processes. With the prevalence of scientific modes of explanation, it is difficult to hold onto the view of love as a unique, mystical, and ineffable feeling. In that sense, love has undergone the same process of disenchantment as Nature: it is no longer viewed as inspired by mysterious and grand forces but rather as a phenomenon in need of explanation and control, as a reaction determined by psychological, evolutionary, and biological laws…The overall effect of scientific interpretive frameworks on love is both deflationary and reflexive. They dethrone love of its transcendental status, making it instead a psychological or physical force, working beyond and beneath the concrete particular experiences of specific individuals. They also create a strong unreality effect, making actors doubt love’s reality and explicitly attend to the underlying real causes for their love. [emphasis mine]
Add to all this scientific reductionism of love the phenomenon of the internet and things really get interesting, or depressing depending on your point of view.
In premodern cultures mate selection involved a lot fewer choices. Most people weren’t incredibly mobile, so they had limited partners to choose from. They often would up picking the first good candidate, with good being determined by a host of criteria including “dowry size, a candidate’s personal or family wealth and reputation, education, and family politics.” But again, with few options, the standards weren’t nearly as high, nor were the expectations of the relationship. And now…
Two main differences in the modern situation strike even the casual observer: the premodern actor looking for a mate seems a simpleton in comparison with today’s actors, who from adolescence to adulthood develop an elaborate set of criteria for the selection of a mate. Such criteria are not only social and educational, but also physical, sexual, and perhaps most of all emotional. Psychology, internet technology, and the logic of the capitalist market applied to mate selection have contributed to create a self-conscious, manipulable personality, who uses an increasingly refined and wide number of criteria, presumably conducive to greater compatibility. Psychology in particular has greatly contributed to defining persons as sets of psychological and emotional attributes, themselves submitted to the imperative of compatibility. Thus what has become a hyper-cognized, rational method of selecting a mate goes hand-in-hand with the expectation that love provide authentic, unmediated emotional experiences.
So we go through a rigorous scrutinizing process to select our potential partner, one more rationalistic than anything in history, and yet once we find the partner we want to settle down with, we expect that we will have “authentic, unmediated emotional experience” the kind that flow from a less rationalistic and more mystical understanding of love itself.
Now consider the $900 million dollar online dating industry:
By enabling users to investigate a vast number of options, the internet encourages the maximization of partner selection in unprecedented ways, in stark contrast to the methods of premodernity. Maximization of outcome has become a goal in and of itself. For example, many respondents to an open-ended questionnaire about the uses of Internet dating sites declared the choices available were so large that they would get in touch only with people who corresponded very precisely to their diverse aspirations. Moreover, the majority of respondents reported that their tastes changed in the course of their search and that they aspired to more accomplished people than they did at the beginning of the search. Clearly the case of online dating shows that actors use elaborate rational strategies to achieve their romantic desires, thus confirming Smelser’s and Alexander’s claims that computer technology has a strong rationalizing effect: the gradual permeation of the computer into the pores of modern life deepened what Max Weber called the rationalization of the world.
Once again, the process of selecting a partner for a romantic relationship is completely disenchanted. It is as rationalistic and technologized as anything else in modern culture. And yet out of such a process we expect some ineffable and mysterious that is exceedingly emotionally gratifying.
Earlier on in the essay Illouz quotes Sex in the City’s Candace Bushnell, as she epitomizes the contemporary approach to love:
When was the last time you heard someone say, “I love you!” without tagging on the inevitable (if unspoken) “as a friend.” When was the last time you saw two people gazing into each other’s eyes without thinking, “Yeah right?” When was the last time you heard someone announce, “I am truly, madly in love,” without thinking, Just wait until Monday morning?
Bushnell expresses, “a thoroughly self-conscious, supremely ironic, and disenchanted approach to love.” And when she expressed it, we all probably have a sense for what she means. This is because, in Illouze’s eyes, we are steeped in a rationalistic culture that drowns us in irony. Irony “is the trope of the person who knows too much but refuses to take reality seriously.” “Modern romantic consciousness” is thus thoroughly ironic “because it is saturated with knowledge, but it is a disenchanted knowledge that prevents full belief and commitment.” If indeed “love” is a modern religion as Illouze claims, presumably because we approach the search for it despite all the rationalization with the unswerving devotion of a zealot, “it is a peculiar one indeed, for it is a religion that cannot produce belief, faith, or commitment.”
Eva Illouze begins a recent essay in The Hedgehog Review entitled “Love and It’s Discontents: Irony, Reason, Romance” with the following quote from Edmund Burke:
All the pleasing illusions that made power gentle, and obedience liberal, which harmonized the different shades of life…are to be dissolved by this new conquering empire of light and reason. All the decent drapery of life is to be rudely torn off. All the super-added ideas, which the heart owns, and the understanding ratifies, as necessary to cover the defects of our weak and shivering nature, and to raise it to a dignity in our own estimation, are to be exploded as a ridiculous, absurd and antiquated fashion.
Illouze points out that Burke here “anticipates what would become one of the chief sources of the dynamism and discontent of modernity, namely the fact that beliefs—in transcendence and authority—become accountable to Reason.” The gifts of imperial reason wind up, however, being more than we can bear:
The scrutinizing of social relations by the implacable gaze of Reason can only tear down the harmonious web of meanings and relationships on which traditional power, obedience, and fealty rested. For only lies and illusions can make the violence of social relationships bearable. To be tolerable, human existence requires a modicum of myths, illusions, and lies. Put differently, Reason’s indefatigable attempts to unmask and track down the fallacies of our beliefs will leave us shivering in the cold, for only beautiful stories—not truth—can console us.
She then moves on to point out the strikingly similar insights that Marx shares with Burke:
Marx, the most forceful heir and defender of the Enlightenment, curiously concurred with the ultra-conservative views of Burke in his famous dictum: “all that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profane, and men at last are forced to face with sober senses the real conditions of their lives and their relations with their fellow men.” Marx, like Burke, views modernity as a “sobering of the senses,” as a violent arousal from a pleasant if numbing slumber and a confrontation with the naked, bare, and barren conditions of social relationships. This sobering realization may make us more clever and less likely to be lulled by the fanciful and vain promises of the Church and of the Aristocracy, but it also empties our lives of charm and mystery, and of a sense of the sacred. Knowledge comes at the price of desecrating that which we revered. Thus Marx, like Burke, seems to think that cultural fantasies—not truth—make our lives meaningfully connected to others and committed to a higher good. Although Marx neither rejected the new empire of light nor longed to return to the defunct rituals of the past, we can detect in him the same Burkean dread of what lies ahead for a humanity in which nothing is holy and everything is profane.
Illouze goes on to point out the ambivalence that is at the heart of modern culture. Moderns claim to be “free of the shackles that had fogged the mind and consciousness,” at the same time longing for that which they claim to be free from: “a sense of the sacred and transcendent and the very capacity to believe.”
So we’re left as moderns in what Weber calls the perennial state of “disenchantment”.
Disenchantment does not mean simply that the world is no longer filled with angels and demons, witches and fairies, but that the very category of “mystery” comes to be disparaged: for, in their impulse to control the natural and social world, the various modern institutions of science, technology, and the market, which aim at solving human problems, relieving suffering, and increasing wellbeing, also dissolve our sense of mystery. The vocation of scientific work is to solve and conquer mysteries, not to be under their spell. Similarly, capitalists whose principal wish is to maximize their gains, often disregard and undermine those values—religious or aesthetic—that limit economic activity. Precisely because science and economics have considerably expanded the limits of our material world, helping us to resolve the problem of scarcity and making Nature yield to human needs, the gods have deserted us. What in an earlier age was governed by faith, personal fealty, and charismatic heroes, becomes a matter of calculable means. But this process toward rationalization does not eliminate all manifestations of passion; rather, it generates attempts to restore, even if vicariously, orders of experience dominated by fervor and passion.
So whether we’re at a tea party or a coffee party, neither will offer us an enchanted evening, which is perhaps what we long for most.
David Brooks wrote a great reflection on the current Health Care legislation, the history of the animating spirit behind it, and some of the long term considerations it raises about America’s future.
In Brooks eyes, the “Republican Party has, at its best, come to embody the cause of personal freedom and economic dynamism…For a similar period, the Democratic Party has, at its best, come to embody the cause of fairness and family security.” Brooks is a conservative who used to write for the Weekly Standard, not an Obama devotee. What I consistently admire about his writing is his ability to see things from a number of different perspectives. Such intellectual empathy is what engenders healthy and fruitful political discourse. Without it politics becomes an all or nothing game, strike that, war, waged by the forces of light against the legions of doom and darkness.
In a column written last week before the passage of the historic health care bill Brooks had this to say about the importance of understanding the other:
Human beings, the philosophers tell us, are social animals. We emerge into the world ready to connect with mom and dad. We go through life jibbering and jabbering with each other, grouping and regrouping. When you get a crowd of people in a room, the problem is not getting them to talk to each other; the problem is getting them to shut up…To help us in this social world, God, nature and culture have equipped us with a spirit of sympathy. We instinctively feel a tinge of pain when we observe another in pain (at least most of us do). We instinctively mimic, even to a small extent, the mood, manners, yawns and actions of the people around us…To help us bond and commit, we have been equipped with a suite of moral sentiments. We have an innate sense of fairness. Children from an early age have a sense that everybody should be treated fairly. We have an innate sense of duty…As a result of this sympathy and these sentiments, people are usually pretty decent to one another when they relate person to person. The odd thing is that when people relate group to group, none of this applies. When a group or a nation thinks about another group or nation, there doesn’t seem to be much natural sympathy, natural mimicry or a natural desire for attachment… Group-to-group relations are more often marked by calculation, rivalry and coldness. Members of one group sometimes see members of another group as less than human: Nazi and Jew, Hutu and Tutsi, Sunni and Shiite.
As I pay attention to my own tweets, Facebook comments and antagonistic exchanges with those whose political sympathies differ from my own (and the sidebars I have with politically kindred spirits about “those people”), the words of Brooks cut deeply.
Brooks concluded his critical column on heath care reform with the following estimation of the challenges ahead for us as a nation:
The task ahead is to save this country from stagnation and fiscal ruin. We know what it will take. We will have to raise a consumption tax. We will have to preserve benefits for the poor and cut them for the middle and upper classes. We will have to invest more in innovation and human capital.
To rise to the occasion such realities present we’ll all have to do a little more listening.
Find out now. That’s right, if you subscribe to an idea, you must subscribe to any ideology that has ever subscribed to it as well, and to every possible negative consequence remotely implied by said ideologies when you carried to absurd extremes.
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Last night television provided some interviews of interest for political junkies. Jay Leno marked his return to The Tonight Show by having Sarah Palin as his first guest. Meanwhile Stephen Colbert welcomed back NY Times columnist David Brooks. Palin was typical Palin and Brooks was typical Brooks. Both were entertaining and one was substantive. All in all, great entertainment.
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Came across a great column (http://nyti.ms/9gISFi) byNicholas Kristoff this morning about evangelical relief efforts. If more Christians were as Christlike as Kristoff maybe secular skeptics would be tempted to take the Gospel more seriously. Here’s a nice concluding quote from the piece:
If secular liberals can give up some of their snootiness, and if evangelicals can retire some of their sanctimony, then we all might succeed together in making greater progress against common enemies of humanity, like illiteracy, human trafficking and maternal mortality.
Bill Maher tackes this question in recent episode of Real Time.
Slate’s Jacob Weisberg doesn’t think politicians are to blame for America’s woes. He lays the blame squarely at our doorsteps. The problem is the American public.
On any number of issues from the stimulus plan to how to handle deficits to health care spending, Americans are of a divided, and often contradictory mind, argues Wesiberg:
One year ago, 59 percent of the American public liked the stimulus plan, according to Gallup. A few months later, with the economy still deeply mired in recession, a majority of the same size said Obama was spending too much money on it. There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind, of course, but opinion polls over the last year reflect something altogether more troubling: a country that simultaneously demands and rejects action on unemployment, deficits, health care, climate change, and a whole host of other major problems. Sixty percent of Americans want stricter regulations of financial institutions. But nearly the same proportion says we’re suffering from too much regulation on business. That kind of illogic—or, if you prefer, susceptibility to rhetorical manipulation—is what locks the status quo in place.
At the root of this kind of self-contradiction is our historical, nationally characterological ambivalence about government. We want Washington and the states to fix all of our problems now. At the same time, we want government to shrink, spend less, and reduce our taxes. We dislike government in the abstract: According to CNN, 67 percent of people favor balancing the budget even when the country is in a recession or a war, which is madness. But we love government in the particular: Even larger majorities oppose the kind of spending cuts that would reduce projected deficits, let alone eliminate them. Nearly half the public wants to cancel the Obama stimulus, and a strong majority doesn’t want another round of it. But 80-plus percent of people want to extend unemployment benefits and to spend more money on roads and bridges. There’s another term for that stuff: more stimulus spending…The usual way to describe such inconsistent demands from voters is to say that the public is an angry, populist, tea-partying mood. But a lot more people are watching American Idol than are watching Glenn Beck, and our collective illogic is mostly negligent rather than militant. The more compelling explanation is that the American public lives in Candyland, where government can tackle the big problems and get out of the way at the same time.
If the Republicans ran the likes of Andrew Sullivan and Joe Scarborough we’d have a great debate in this country, and we’d all be better for it.