Stuffing Drifted Down Like Snow

Or, Real Objectivity Rests on Identifying with Others

Facebook recently reminded me of this status I composed six years ago in response to the reaction against Black Lives Matter:

At the heart of the instinct to say all lives matter is the feeling that my life matters, which it does. But the point is that other lives matter, too. Try on their shoes. Try to see--to feel--life from another perspective. We all owe that to each other, and accomplishing it is the key to making the world a better place for all of us.

I wrote about that movement somewhat more recently as an illustrative example in Refracted Neutrality. Specifically, as an example of how true neutrality on issues is impossible, that being finite and limited and situated in particular contexts means we can never be without bias. Here's a part of it:

Neutrality is a laudable goal and one we should work towards as much as possible. The problem is that no matter how we strive to achieve neutrality, it will always remain an aspiration. It is an abstract ideal that can never truly be realized. Reality is too messy and contextual. Every person has biases and limited understanding and perspective. Every position inherently promotes values of one kind or another, supports some things and opposes others. . . . 

Add to this the fact that we can only ever achieve these values imperfectly due to our flaws, biases, and limitations. As much as we try to be fair, open, and balanced, we’ll not hit quite dead center, will accidentally marginalize some, and will miss some of the complex dimensions of the issue. So when we try to claim a veneer of perfect neutrality over this nuanced reality, we are dishonest. We would be better served by attempting to acknowledge our imperfections openly alongside our aspirations of neutrality. Instead of pretending our biases and perspectives don’t exist, we should bring them out into the open and make them part of the process. . . . 

Simply by existing, libraries endorse values that are opposed by some. We consciously and openly support many values, such as intellectual freedom, even if it means there are those who disagree. We are intentionally not neutral in many ways and accept alienating some people as a necessary result. In all other areas we must accept that at best we can be imperfectly neutral with unintended biases and limitations, and some will be excluded and marginalized in spite of our best efforts. And there will always be those who choose to see our close-to-neutral positions as biased and unfair because of their beliefs and perspectives, again feeling excluded and marginalized despite our intentions. Neutrality is an abstract ideal to which we should aspire, but in doing so we should always accept that we can never truly be neutral and should not pretend otherwise.

My attempt to articulate my thoughts are a bit repetitive and convoluted; the heart of my argument is that, to find the center or the balance or (see below) objectivity, it takes multiple viewpoints from different perspectives. No one perspective or person--or organization viewpoint--will ever be able to achieve neutrality or objectivity. It takes many points of view to reach anything like an accurate gestalt* close to truth and reality, which lies somewhere in the intersection of those views.

*"A collection of physical, biological, psychological or symbolic elements that creates a whole, unified concept or pattern which is other than the sum of its parts, due to the relationships between the parts (of a character, personality, entity, or being)."

I happen to have just stumbled upon someone who is able to articulate it much better than I've been able to:

Through the Eyes of Another 

It’s impossible to shed our individual biases. So the best way to establish objectivity is by taking on new perspectives.

We are fragile and limited human animals, making our way through a complex and multifaceted world. This simple fact suggests that our pre-reflective conception of reality isn’t a reflection – flawed or otherwise – of some objective truth, so much as a composite picture based on what our own interests motivate us to perceive. Our senses organise the environment for us according to what we need to survive and thrive in it.

In other words, we are already biased. And because empathy forces us to take up another, albeit biased, perspective on the world, it actually ends up making us more, not less objective. As Friedrich Nietzsche writes, there is ‘only a perspective “knowing”; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our “concept” of this thing, our “objectivity”, be.’ . . . 

It is by necessity that we experience the world in time and space, even when we have no compelling reasons to think these structures exist outside our minds. What we take for granted as forming part of the fabric of the world, such as objects and causation, are in fact our mind’s way of organising the stream of information that flows from our senses. . . . 

If this is right – that we always perceive the world in relation to ourselves – then taking different perspectives into account becomes essential for grasping the world, ourselves, and other people. . . . 

We operate under the illusion that we directly experience the world as it is. . . . 

Psychological research, then, shows that the way we think of other people’s attitudes and actions differs from how we think of our own, and philosophical theory explains why. . . . 

We reflect on ourselves as if through the eyes of another, and so recognise more fully what we are doing. We take another’s perspective on ourselves – or, more precisely, we look at ourselves as we would look at another person doing what we’re doing. . . . 

We cannot decide by ourselves what we are doing; rather, the way others see us serves as a guide to the reality of the situation. The other person’s point of view has authority. It is not something we can simply dismiss (although in some circumstances we surely must). This is another reason empathy is so important: we get a clearer and more nuanced view not only of others, but of ourselves. . . . 

Without taking another’s perspective, only certain things stand out about a person’s actions – and how judges view those things is, in part, a reflection of the judge. To counterbalance this awkward and unavoidable fact, a judge needs to think about a defendant in new ways and reconsider his or her own pre-reflective ways of thinking about the case. Perspective-taking, when done well, helps them do just that. . . . 

It’s so crucial that we take into consideration the points of view of the many different people – and creatures – who are stakeholders in the social, legal and moral order. . . . But to take the perspective of people and animals that are very different from us, we must learn to listen to what they have to say – and to listen from their position, not from our own.

As it is with so many things, empathy is a key to understanding reality.

If we always perceive the world in relation to ourselves, then taking different perspectives into account becomes essential for grasping the world, ourselves, and other people.

Exposure to difference and diversity makes us smarter, wiser, and more perceptive, understanding, and insightful. It makes us better.

---

I'll share two brief  recent exchanges with my children as a transition to a different theme for the rest of this post. As first shared on Facebook:

"It's okay; I'm just trolling you, Dad," my younger spawn (7) just assured me.

-----

"Boys I need you to do me a favor. I need you to pretend like you respect your parents and do as they ask the rest of the morning. Can you do that for me?"

"No."

I say a "different" theme, but maybe partial would be a better word. My particular perspective. Where my mind has been lately, things that have caught my attention, from what I have consumed, as reflective of my current state, which has been extra anxious. Lots of generalized anxiety. (Not an official diagnosis.)

The things people are most afraid of can't always easily be put down on a list. Fires and illness and red doors--all that's awful, yes, but a fear of feelings can scare you worse than anything else.

from The List of Unspeakable Fears by J. Kasper Kramer

I won't say more about the book, except that it's from the perspective of a fearful girl trying to live with actual, trauma-based anxiety. I'm just sharing the quote because I like the quote.

Who else has the type of anxiety that tells you that, if you stay hypervigilant and informed and if you, in detail, imagine every possible bad outcome, you will thereby ward off harm to yourself and your whole community like some kind of powerful, jumpy magician?

When that showed up on my feed, I not only immediately wanted to share it, I added the following lead when I did so:

As a kid, I would lie in bed in the dark, worried about all the imagined monsters that might reach out and grab me. But some part of my mind believed that they could only hurt me if they surprised me, so the way to be safe was to imagine every scenario before they could try it on me. If I was expecting it, it couldn't get me. So I would lie there imagining all the worst things that could possibly happen as my defense against fear.

I've been told I'm a "worst-case scenario thinker," that I'm too negative (see, for instance, my somewhat ranty post: So Tired of Being Called "Negative"). And, though it's been a while, I've written before about being anxiety-prone:

Are You High-Reactive? - People with a high-reactive temperament — as long as it doesn’t show itself as a clinical disorder — are generally conscientious and almost obsessively well-prepared. Worriers are likely to be the most thorough workers and the most attentive friends. Someone who worries about being late will plan to get to places early. Someone anxious about giving a public lecture will work harder to prepare for it. Test-taking anxiety can lead to better studying; fear of traveling can lead to careful mapping of transit routes.

Anxious Introversion Has Its Advantages - A groundbreaking study . . . found that introverts outperform extroverts when leading teams of proactive workers — the kinds of employees who take initiative and are disposed to dream up better ways of doing things.

There Are Two Types of People in the World -  . . . Those who understand anxious self-doubt as a constant state of mind and those who don't. . . . Who always blame themselves if something is not right, who never stop feeling at least some measure of guilt and responsibility for everything wrong around them.

So, yeah, I relate to the meme; feel it in my gut.

I had to pick up the boys early from their day camp yesterday, so I caught them in the middle of swimming at a beach at one of our small county lakes. As they got into the car, they started telling me, "Dad, we have clams! We weren't supposed to take them, but we put them in our pockets and snuck them out. We think we're going to find pearls!

"We have three closed clams and one shell," they went on. "If we find one pearl, we're going to keep it. If we find two, we'll keep one and sell the other. If we find three, we'll keep one and sell two. If we don't find any, we'll turn the shells into a necklace and sell that. How much do you think a necklace like that would cost?"

Our drive home was nearly half and hour, and we had a long, convoluted conversation spurred by clams the whole drive. How to price a necklace (and pearls), of course. My lack of knowledge of clams, oysters, and fresh vs. saltwater creatures (and my doubt they would find any pearls, even so). How long clams can live without water. How underwater breathing works. How different animals--and humans--evolved. And more that I can't remember. Each topic was initiated by their thoughts and questions, and I'm constantly surprised at just how much they already know; [Older] (8) was the first to mention the word "evolution," for instance.

At one point in the middle, we were talking about how gills only work in water, not air, but there still needs to be oxygen in the water that they can filter out. That not just any liquid will do. And that there are dead zones in the ocean that contain no oxygen, so no animals live there and when they swim in they die.

I added that air and gasses work the same way, that we can be surrounded by what seems like air, but if there's no oxygen in it we won't be able to breathe.

[Older] responded, "Dad, if the world warms up enough, will everyone die during my lifetime or will it take longer?"

I started a long answer--that we don't know for sure, but it's unlikely the entire planet will become uninhabitable; that it could be only minor changes, but will probably be somewhere in the middle--but before I could really expand into anything satisfactory they were back to admiring their shells and we'd moved on to other ponderings.

I followed up with him briefly at bedtime, trying to offer more reassurance that global warming might mean extreme weather, disasters, and hardship, but not necessarily widespread death (see, for instance: my report on the book The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming by David Wallace-Wells in Thinking Like a Planet).

"But what about WALL-E?" he said.

I never expected the imagery from that movie would have made such an impression. It makes sense, but took me totally by surprise. It's a good reminder of what sponges young minds are.

I assured him that was a distant future and not one for his lifetime.

Still, I wish I had better answers.

Speaking of anxiety and fear, have you ever wanted a story about Teddy Bears dealing with theirs?

He looked past the dozer and saw a black dagger plunge through the blue sky.

"Look out, Horace!" Buddy yelled.

Horace kept waving, ignorant of the descending shadow.

A curved beak stabbed into Horace's chest. Pale stuffing blurted outward. Horace was hurled to the dirt. A second later, his body flew upward. The garbage gull with the scarred face had him. Buddy watched as the gull's wings flapped and Horace was lifted. Higher they flew, higher. Horace's paws and legs dangled limply. His head flopped too, and Buddy saw Horace's eyes staring down at him, a final terrified goodbye before he vanished into the Haze.

"Nonononono!" Sugar screamed.

A bit of stuffing drifted down like snow.

That's part of a scene from They Threw Us Away (The Teddies Saga, #1) by Daniel Kraus. I marked the passage during my reading because I liked it. Here's what I wrote about the book:

In my experience, animated teddy bear stories tend toward cute and saccharine while Daniel Kraus books tend toward dark horror, so I was prepared for either end of the spectrum when I started this. Kraus manages to find a good balance right in the middle. Gritty but not gruesome, creepy but not scary, disquieting but not disturbing. Most of all, he achieves a rugged, inspiring adventure that balances personality, heroics, heart, heavy themes, desperation, and action. I didn't expect to close the book eager to read #2, but I am. Holly Black offers a perfect blurb on the back cover: "A deliciously macabre fairy tale, full of snuggles." This was surprisingly enjoyable.

Unrelated, but I also enjoyed this exchange:

"What's ™ stand for?" Sunny asked.

"Obviously it's an abbreviation of thaumaturgic," Reginald said.

"What?" Buddy asked. "Huh?" Sunny questioned. "Say again?" Horace asked. "Ooo!" Sugar squeaked.

"Thaumaturgic means 'one who works miracles,"" Reginald said.

"How in the world do you know that?" Buddy asked.

Reginald shrugged. "What else could it stand for?"

I might have to change my name to Degolar™.

I still vividly remember watching the movie Mazes and Monsters when I was a new, young Dungeons & Dragons player and being fascinated by it. (Not convinced of anything, but fascinated.) Tom Hanks plays a college student who gets so wrapped up in the thinly veiled titular version of the game that he starts hallucinating that it's real. He finally loses all grip on reality and has to be committed to an institution after believing he has become his character and trying to jump off a building, believing his magic will allow him to fly.

One of my disappointments in life is that my rational, analytical brain has never allowed me to believe in anything like magic or the supernatural. I love stories and games, particularly with fantasy settings, because I would love it to be real, but there's never been even the slightest fuzziness between reality and pretend for me. That is a hard, impermeable line. Everyone I've ever played games with has been the same.

I also remember, when I was a bit older, trying to branch out from D&D into other game systems and buying a book that apparently looked so convincing in its representation of dark magic that my parents checked in with me to make sure I didn't actually think I was learning to cast real spells. I was flabbergasted they could think such a thing, since it was so clearly a game to me that I had never even considered how it might look to others like something less imaginary.

This amuses me and seems entirely accurate:

During the Satanic Panic of the 80s there was a paranoid worry that Dungeons & Dragons players would get so wrapped up in the their role playing that they'd detach from reality and kill themselves and others.

That's basically what happens to some QAnon followers, but for real.

They can't seem to tell the difference between their imaginings and reality. They believe the pretend monsters are real. (And, in so doing, become monsters themselves.)

This is similar:

We're watching the Return of the King right now, and got to the part where Denethor is introduced. My husband asks me for the context of why Denethor is Like That, since I just finished reading the book. Sol explained how Denethor has been using a Palantir for years to get information, and how Sauron has been manipulating him by only letting him see events that give him a worst possible impression of reality.

So my husband replies "Oh! So Denethor is basically just like your grandpa after he starts getting all his news from Fox." And honestly, yeah pretty much.

Manipulative media, framing and controlling the narrative. Impressionable minds.

Finally, a quick Covid update. As a country, we are officially treating Covid-19 as endemic, which means no real mitigation measures, no tracking, no trying to stem the tide; just a decision to live with it. If we were keeping track, numbers would be way back up again.

A personal anecdote from work on Monday:

An excellent morning doing storytimes at a preschool today. However. I emailed with the director on Friday to confirm everything was still set as planned, and all was good. Today, though, she was waiting in a mask on the front lawn to greet me as I walked up. She told me one of their classrooms is closed because eight people tested positive for Covid over the weekend. She gave me the option of doing the other storytimes outside instead of in classrooms, and I took it. So this was our setting.

My wife is in a long-covid clinic, by the way. I joined her for her second appointment yesterday. It's been a really debilitating illness for her, and she's still not able to work.

All sorts of reasons for anxiety.