Saturday, November 20, 2021

Book Review: "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time" by Mark Haddon

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (2003)
Mark Haddon (1962)
226 pages

For those who love to read, the serendipitous discovery of a wonderful book can take many forms. One of the most magical for me is when a family member or friend recommends or gifts a book that I can with confidence say I was highly unlikely to have ever come across on my own – or to have selected even if I did – and to discover an enthralling story that I wonder how I had missed.

I experienced this most recently with Mark Haddon’s novel The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, a book I had not heard of before being gifted it by my friend Carilee. Haddon’s story begins innocently enough as an enjoyable read, before a heart-rending moment half-way through leads to a courageous and poignant journey of self-discovery.

The story opens with fifteen-year-old Christopher discovering a neighbor’s dog has been killed. Deciding to follow in the steps of one of his favorite characters, Sherlock Holmes, Christopher sets out to discover who did it.

Christopher narrates the story, and early on we learn that while he feels a special connection to animals, he has trouble understanding human expressions and emotions, and he hates being touched, or surrounded by crowds of people – stimulating environments causing his brain to effectively shut down to prevent a kind of information overload. On the other hand, he has a photographic memory and a profoundly logical way of viewing the world and solving problems, both of which help him manage the challenges he faces as he carries on with his investigation.

Perhaps most importantly, Christopher has a dogged persistence that keeps him pushing forward, even as obstacles, both external and personal, frustrate his progress at seemingly every step. This trait becomes most evident when his detective work eventually leads him to a shocking discovery, one that turns him onto a path of events that completely upend his life.

Haddon presents an unflinching but profoundly compassionate portrait of Christopher. By allowing him to narrate the story, as opposed to using the third person, Haddon allows readers a more subtle view into Christopher’s world. We see him as he views himself – his recognition of his own capabilities and limitations, and his acknowledgement of his impact on his family and others. We learn, too, the ways in which he has come to manage his life around the realities of his situation.

Perhaps most striking is Haddon’s portrayal of Christopher’s growth as the story evolves: though by the end of the story Christopher takes risks beyond what he could have imagined before, he remains essentially the same person. As readers, we are forced to confront our expectation that Christopher will be somehow fundamentally transformed by the growth he experiences – lose his fear of being touched for example, or no longer sink into himself or throw tantrums when confronted with an over-stimulating environment or a situation that challenges his expectations. But that is not in the cards; Christopher, like each of us, has his particular personality and way of dealing and interacting with the world, and as Haddon’s story makes clear, growth happens for each of us with these largely inalterable constraints.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time draws a reader into what is at first a seemingly quite straight-forward and comfortable relationship with its main character, Christopher … and then explodes that simplicity with a profoundly shocking and traumatic revelation. In its wake, we watch Christopher persevere in the face of both his own fears and the circumscribed expectations that his family and the world have for him.


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, November 7, 2021

Book Review: "Finding the Mother Tree" by Suzanne Simard

Finding the Mother Tree (2021)
Suzanne Simard (1960)
348 pages


The expression not being able to see the forest for the trees takes on a whole other level of meaning for readers of Suzanne Simard’s remarkable work Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest . A professor of Forest Ecology, Simard has spent the past several decades seeking to understand how forests function, and what she has learned has dramatically overturned long-standing, deeply held beliefs in the timber industry and among forest managers and scientists. Through extensive experimentation, she has discovered that while a forest may appear to be a collection of individual trees competing for precious resources, it is in reality a deeply interconnected community, in which trees share resources and communicate timely warnings to one another, even across species. In the wake of reading her book, a walk through the woods becomes a profoundly changed experience.

Simard grew up in the thickly forested mountain ranges of British Columbia, Canada, within a family deeply involved in the timber industry. This engendered in her a deep connection to trees and forests, and by college she began working seasonal jobs for logging companies. One of her assignments included driving out to clear-cuts that had been replanted with seedlings in order to assess the health of the crop, and this activity led her to the question that has come to drive her life’s work: Why are so many of the seedlings doing so poorly?

Over the decades that followed she doggedly pursed answers to that question. Her key, initial realization came from her examination of the root systems of trees and other plants. Noticing the prodigious variety of fungi attached to the roots, she began studying what was known about the role particular fungi play for different species of trees and plants.

Coming to understand how fungi allowed trees to access more resources, she eventually traced the fungi from the roots of individual trees and found them extending and connecting to the roots of nearby trees, apparently linking the trees together in a kind of network, one that crossed species. This observation led her to a groundbreaking insight that she would spend decades exploring, demonstrating, and expanding upon: forests are not filled with isolated trees competing with one another; instead, forests are a community of trees that sustain one another, even across species.

Her book is structured around the cycle of her subsequent discoveries. In each case, she first describes the origins of a critical insight she has while exploring the forests of British Columbia with the eyes of one deeply immersed in the natural world; next, she describes the complex experimental trials she sets up to evaluate her hypothesis; and, finally, we share with her the breathtaking moment when her research validates her idea. As she then carries that conclusion with her on subsequent outings into the forests, we follow her thinking as it leads her to yet another, further insight, starting the cycle anew.

Simard did this work for many years from her position within the British Columbia Ministry of Forests. However, despite her carefully designed and executed experimental trials demonstrating the validity of her hypotheses of how trees grow better as part of a varied community, Simard’s results represented such a significant departure from the forestry orthodoxy of the late 20th century – that trees compete with one another, and so to maximize growth of a particular species all other species in that location must be comprehensively eliminated – that she faced increasingly virulent push back from both those inside the forestry industry and those in academia supported by that industry. Eventually, continuing her work in her position in the government ministry became untenable, and so she left to take a position at the University of British Columbia, where she has been free to pursue her work with less restriction.

In must be noted that even for Simard, each new insight has represented such a radical departure from what she had learned in school that it is immediately followed by a kind of stunned wonder: “can it really be true?” This happened most strikingly as challenges in her personal life led her to seek refuge in yet another walk through a forest in British Columbia, during which she came to the concept of the presence in forests of the Mother Tree mentioned in the book’s title, ancient trees that serve as the hub of support for an entire grouping of trees in the forest. Validating the key roles played by such trees through subsequent experimentation, this discovery represents the culmination of her work so far: that an established tree will eventually become the center – the mother – of a vast network of surrounding trees; that while it helps sustain and nurture a variety of spices in it orbit, it clearly recognizes and gives preference to its own offspring, the seedlings of its own seeds; and that, at the end of its life, it unloads its remaining resources out into its network as it dies.

Though the existence of such mother trees represents the capstone of the work she describes in the book, she continues her research, and closes by hinting at the possibility that forests – through the complex networks of connections between trees and plants – exchange some level of awareness that could be considered thinking, if in a radically different way from human thought. Always careful not to get ahead of her data, she makes no concrete claims here, only raises the possibility. But her decades of surprising insights and carefully researched results – radically transforming our understanding of forest ecology and indicating more sustainable approaches for maintaining them – give her a solid ground on which to continue probing the boundaries of our current understanding.

Although the trees are the obvious stars of Simard’s book, it becomes clear that what makes the cooperation between the trees possible is the seemingly endless variety of fungi in the soil: “An intricately woven rug. … They unlocked essential nutrients. … [Through their] networks, all the plants in this forest belonged to one another.” (168-9) The central role fungi play led me to wonder if it’s not the fungi that are the masters here, effectively “farming” trees in order to access the resources they themselves need. Could it be that, through a long evolutionary process, fungi came to the beneficial solution of increasing their accessible resources by linking trees together into a cooperative community? Perhaps humans simply have a biased viewpoint – living aboveground with the trees – that leads us to see the fungi as supporting the trees and not vice versa. Of course, perhaps the deeper truth is that there are no masters, and it’s simply an integrated dance of life…

At one point in her text it almost seemed that Simard was considering such an orientation, but she doesn’t end up going there. Instead, she notes “similarities with our own human brains,” with “Mother trees [as] the majestic hubs at the center of forest communication, protection, and sentience.” The fungi in this view represent the links through which trees send “chemical signals. Chemicals identical to our own neurotransmitters. Signals created by ions cascading across fungal membranes.” (5, italics in original)

Whether describing her view of how trees work together in a forest, or the long personal road that led to her remarkable discoveries, Simard wears her heart on her sleeve in what is effectively an autobiography of her work and life. The opposite of a staid, scientific telling, she manages to convey her shock of realization as each insight about what might be happening between the trees of the forest occurs to her, and the thrill of discovery as her carefully planned and executed experiments validate her hypotheses. As well, we experience the raw emotions of her personal challenges, including the aggressive pushback from powerful interests within the government and industry timber groups, especially as a woman in a male-dominated industry.

Interesting to note is that this pushback was not because she was trying to stop logging – she wasn’t, coming from generations of family invested in forestry. Her findings simply pointed to the need to shift to a more nuanced strategy than the clearcutting and monoculture replanting that long held sway. Her goal all along was to convince the timer industry that a more sustainable approach would not only be good for the forests, but also more profitable for the industry over the long run. But, as has seemingly forever been the case, people convinced of the righteousness of their point of view are seemingly willing to hold their ground, unwilling to consider what they feel they know with certainty. The physicist Carlo Rovelli expresses this myopia perfectly in his book on the quantum revolution in physics, Helgoland (my review linked to at right)

I believe that one of the greatest mistakes made by human beings is to want certainties when trying to understand something. The search for knowledge is not nourished by certainty: it is nourished by a radical absence of certainty. Thanks to the acute awareness of our ignorance, we are open to doubt and can continue to learn and to learn better. This has always been the strength of scientific thinking – thinking born of curious, revolt, change. There is no cardinal or final fixed point, philosophical or methodological, with which to anchor the adventure of knowledge. (156, Helgoland)


So compelling, in fact, has been the story of Simard’s dramatic discoveries overturning decades of accepted – really, unquestioned – scientific certainty, and her gradual expulsion from the Canadian forestry service and then rebirth as a professor and researcher, that she became the basis for one of the main characters in Richard Powers’ gorgeous novel The Overstory (my review linked to at right).  I had already read Powers’ novel a few months before discovering Simard’s book in a review in the New York Times Book Review, and without having heard about the link to Simard’s work; but it immediately became evident that even if there was not an explicit connection, it was at the very least a shocking coincidence.

In a sense, I must admit that having read Powers’ novel first, some of the surprise of discovery was taken away when then readying Simard’s work. Powers writes so compellingly of trees and the deeply interconnected nature of the forest and also its fundamental place in human life, and had so clearly done the research to undergird his novel, that by the time I came to Simard’s book I took the extent of the interconnections in forests for granted as true – nonsensical, in fact, to imagine otherwise.

This is not to say that Simard’s book is not worth the read in the wake of Powers’. Simard’s description of the path of her discoveries – beyond also providing insight into the physical reality that makes it possible – is a joy to read, particularly as her editors did not quash her enthusiasm, and the rawness of her telling. We discover the passion that led her to postulate and then demonstrate experimentally an ever more startling string of discoveries, knowledge that has completely altered human understanding of forests, and shown how they can be managed in a sustainable manner, one not only less damaging and destructive to the forest, but also to humankind.


Other notes and information:

 

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Friday, October 8, 2021

Book Review: "Leave the World Behind" by Rumaan Alam

Leave the World Behind (2020)
Rumaan Alam (1977)
242 pages

everything [had] held together by tacit agreement that it would. All it took to unravel something was one party deciding to do just that. There was no real structure to prevent chaos, there was only a collective faith in order. (62) 
When the project of civilization begins to unravel in Rumaan Alam’s novel Leave the World Behind, the “collective faith in order” proves as insubstantial as it sounds. And yet his characters cling desperately to their faith in the permanence of that order – maintaining the same willfully blind conviction in it that had allowed them to pursue their quotidian existence largely ignorant of the tenuousness of the ties that bind our present-day world together.

The story opens with Amanda and Clay driving out to the far end of Long Island with their two teenage children for vacation. Their Airbnb rental, a beautiful house nestled deep in the countryside, lies beyond the reach of cell phone service, but does have a Wi-Fi connection to keep the TV and everyone’s phones linked to the outside world. An outdoor pool and hot tub, beautifully situated between the house and the surrounding woods, beckon to the family after the long car ride, and they quickly settle in for a relaxing time away from their busy New York City lives.

Just a day in, however, a late-night knock disrupts the family’s newfound tranquility: at the door are GH and Ruth, who claim to be the owners. They say they’ve come from the city because of a blackout that occurred as they were returning home from the symphony. Not wanting to return to their fourteenth-floor apartment in a city that had descended into darkness, they had decided to drive directly to their country home, hoping their renters would allow them to stay until things returned to normal; once Amanda and Clay establish that the couple are indeed the home’s owners, they have little option but to invite them in.

Though the lights somehow remain on at the home, all connection to the outside world has been lost, with only a last notification on Amanda’s cell phone hinting at the broad extent of the blackout. The remainder of the story plays out over just the next day and a half, with time crawling by for the characters as a sequence of odd events and a lack of concrete information leave them swinging wildly between crippling panic attacks and irrational hopes. It is these last, in fact, that seem most disturbing, persuasively validating an aphorism I once heard that hope is the last resort of fools and dreamers. For, even as inexplicable but increasingly terrifying events accumulate, the powerful illusion of the structure of civilization as indestructible profoundly colors the thinking and decision-making of the characters, slowing their acceptance of both the new order that has descended out over the horizon, and its ramifications for their immediate circumstances and actions.

It is the power of this illusion of civilization’s stability that Alam explores through his characters to devastating effect. By leaving unclarified the details of events in the outside world, the focus becomes on their reactions, individually and collectively, to the situation. Facing an unknown disaster, of proportions and implications they cannot bring themselves to take seriously, they struggle to give up their profound belief that civilization – and their lives as they have known them – will not soon resume again, just as they had left them.

Alam’s portrayal of his characters’ inability to contemplate the end of the kind of lives and world they have known seems frighteningly convincing. Those caught in the chaos of the city would surely be quickly disabused of any belief in the imminent return of stability; but for those isolated and uncertain of what is happening, he paints a persuasive picture of the powerful allure of baseless hopes and wishful thinking.

As readers, we are only given a bit more clarity than the characters about what has befallen the world beyond this house at the isolated tip of Long Island; Alam provides cryptic hints of distant crises, but also alternative scenarios that could be playing out. By not providing a specific, detailed account of the slide toward apocalypse that the world undergoes, he not only keeps our focus on and identification with the experience and reactions of his characters, but also precludes us from dismissing the global events with an oh, that could never happen wave of the hand. Instead, he forces readers to confront the possibility that some combination of accidents and misunderstandings, of mistakes made and risks taken, could all too easily slip our world over into an accelerating descent into disarray – that, as one character concludes, the world truly has “no real structure to prevent chaos,” as one character concludes.

I’ve read commentary that suggests that the significant rise in popularity over the last decade of apocalyptic and dystopian fiction, such as Alam’s novel, represents a reaction to feelings that the world is beset by too many problems, that the future is bleak. The implication has sometimes been that this is simply a phase that populations have historically sometimes gone through; I wonder, however, if such a dismissal isn’t really a bit of a failure of imagination.

To think in the year 999, in Europe, that the world would end on New Year’s Eve clearly seems a parochial vision built on feverish beliefs. Today, however, with our world so deeply interconnected economically and socially, and weapons of tremendous power distributed so widely, is it not a concrete possibility that some relatively small combination of mistakes and misunderstandings could run civilization off the rails? Not, perhaps, in an existential sense, but in the sense of extensively disrupting the lives we – particularly in the developed world – are accustomed to today?

Though Alam captures perfectly the emotional rollercoaster his characters experience, and I find his (admittedly cryptically described) descent of the world into chaos all too plausible, there are inconsistencies in the story that stand out. One is the timing of the arrival of GH and Ruth; based on their description of events, they left New York City after the black-out hit, and drove at least a few hours from the Bronx out to the end of Long Island – and yet, just moments before they knock on the door, Clay had been watching TV, including “pausing a moment on Rachel Maddow” (31), without having seen anything about the largest city in the country suffering a black-out. Another oddity is that although the characters, desperate for news, stare obsessively at their unresponsive phones and keep turning on the TV to verify the blue screen of no-signal, no one ever tries a radio, the seemingly most likely source of information in an emergency.

These quibbles aside, however, Alam has created a captivating story in Leave the World Behind, convincingly portraying the mounting fears the characters experience in the face of profound uncertainty of what is happening in the outside world. Isolated from much of what is familiar to them and forced together with people they first met only hours before, they struggle not only to react appropriately to the deepening threat, but also to shake their desperately held belief that all will inevitably return to normal.



Other notes and information:

I chanced on a particularly impactful reading experience for the novel that I highly recommend: I started reading it just before my family and I went on a vacation to a relatively isolated spot (if not nearly so secluded as in the story), and it settled so deeply into my subconscious that I repeatedly found myself wondering if, out there beyond my horizon as we were walking in the woods or along an empty beach, or sitting in the pool, the world was ending and I just didn’t know it yet…
   

I recently watched the move The November Man, a spy thriller starring Pierce Brosnan and Olga Kurylenko, which had the song Ticking Bomb by Aloe Blacc playing during the end credits. The song seems written for an apocalyptic novel like Leave the World Behind, and, in fact, when I went to YouTube to hear the full song, I found it associated with a spate of recent apocalyptic and dystopian style movies. All further indication, I suppose, of present-day reader and viewer appetites for apocalyptic fare.

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, October 2, 2021

Book Review: "Helgoland" by Carlo Rovelli

Helgoland: Making Sense of the Quantum Revolution (2021)
Carlo Rovelli (1956)
233 pages

Since quantum theory’s formulation and elaboration during the first half of the 20th century, it has had a remarkable run of success. Its predictions have been validated to ever higher levels of accuracy by increasingly complex experiments, and its developments have dramatically deepened scientists’ understanding in a wide variety of fields. More concretely, its practical applications have had a revolutionary impact on many of the devices in our daily lives, from the improvement of even the most mundane home appliances to the development of an ever-expanding bonanza of technical marvels.

And yet, despite all this success, the physical interpretation of quantum mechanics has remained an enigma, with a number of its predictions – and the experimental results that have confirmed them – contradicting our deeply-rooted intuitions about how the physical world behaves.

While many physicists over the years have narrowed their focus onto the technological opportunities quantum mechanics has offered, others have been unwilling to ignore the theory’s enigmatic consequences for our understanding of the fundamental nature of reality, and so have sought explanations for its bestiary of confounding implications. This latter group, according to physicist Carlo Rovelli in his book Helgoland, can roughly be divided into two camps: those who postulate mind-bending theories that maintain our physical intuition at a cost of introducing seemingly unverifiable features, and those who postulate equally mind-bending theories that require us to set aside our physical intuition. Given the strangeness of the observed phenomena, either path requires a bold imagination.

In his book, which has the subtitle Making Sense of the Quantum Revolution, Rovelli summarizes the theoretical development and experimental validation of quantum mechanics, as well as the enduring debates over its interpretation. He then outlines his own theory for what quantum mechanics reveals about the fundamental nature of the world, and describes its surprising consequences, before concluding with a captivating exploration of the striking similarities of his proposed explanation to understandings in other fields.

The book opens with the story that gives it its title: Werner Heisenberg’s stay during the summer of 1925 on the North Sea Island of Helgoland. Heisenberg came to the island seeking a quiet, isolated spot in which to develop a theory that could explain Niels Bohr’s surprising formulas describing properties of electrons. Bohr’s equations accurately predicted aspects of the observed behavior of electrons, but also indicated that an electron can only take on discrete orbits around the atom, making quantum leaps to go from one orbit to another. The concept that nature could be discrete at some fundamental level rather than continuous, though now seriously entertained, at that time represented a tectonic shift in physicists’ views of reality.

Unfortunately, Bohr’s equations gave no hint as to what force or forces could explain his shocking results, and it was this question that Heisenberg wrestled with during his sojourn on Helgoland. Rovelli writes that Heisenberg eventually had

the idea. An idea that could only be had with the unfettered radicalism of the young. The idea that would transform physics in its entirety – together with the whole of science and our very conception of the world. An idea, [Rovelli] believe[s], … that humanity has not yet fully absorbed. (8) 

Helgoland, in fact, represents Rovelli’s attempt to help readers “absorb” the fundamental shift quantum mechanics seems to require to our understanding of the world.

Heisenberg’s idea, as Rovelli describes it, was to shift from trying to “find the force capable of causing the bizarre behavior of electrons” (8) – that is, how an electron makes quantum leaps – to writing formulas that fully describe the observed phenomena of the electron, such as the light it emits when it moves. Ultimately, the equations Heisenberg developed described the behavior of the electron more fully than Bohr’s formulas could, but did not at all resolve the question of how the described behavior occurred.

Rovelli provides an introduction to Heisenberg’s formulation, and its subsequent development into quantum mechanics by Heisenberg as well as others associated with Bohr, and describes some of the numerous experimental results that have supported it. He also reviews the struggle over the interpretation of the theory, at the heart of which lies Heisenberg’s decision to let go of the search for how the observed behavior occurs and focus instead on formulating a description for what is observed. This debate continues to the present day, and has been explored in a string of books, such as Adam Becker's recent What Is Real? (my review linked to at right).

Central to these debates has been a particularly unnerving aspect of quantum theory, one that has been backed-up by many experimental results: the locations of tiny particles appear to be probabilistic. Rovelli notes that, in response to this, some physicists have developed interpretations of quantum theory that maintain our intuitive, deterministic expectation for the physical world; in so doing, however, they end up relying on unverifiable structures such as multiverses (see, for example, physicist Max Tegmark's Our Mathematical Universe, my review linked to at right) or hidden (indeterminable) variables.

Ultimately, Rovelli finds these deterministic formulations of quantum theory unconvincing, and he argues that, instead of trying to force quantum theory to match our intuitive desire for a deterministic reality, physicists should be open to new ways of thinking about the fundamental nature of reality. Over the middle section of the book, he describes the interpretation he finds most plausible: that bits of matter cannot be described in isolation, in the sense of being objects having particular properties; rather, objects are defined by their relation to one another.

[Quantum theory] describes how every physical object manifests itself to any other physical object. How any physical entity acts on any other physical entity. … To understand nature, we must focus on these interactions rather than on isolated objects. (75)


 Thus, for Rovelli, the entire physical world is defined by interrelationships between objects, rather than by properties associated with individual objects. In this way of thinking about the world, “everything exists solely of the way in which it affects something else. When the electron does not interact with anything, it has no physical properties. It has no position; it has no velocity.” (79) And the electron is simply a specific example; for Rovelli the same principle applies to all objects, of any size. In this he includes himself, as well as his readers: in his view we, each of us, only have particular properties in relation to other objects that we interact with.

And his theory has several startling consequences, including that for a given object, its properties can be vary, depending on its interrelationships with other objects. In particular, quantum theory leads to the conclusion that “a fact might be real with respect to you and not real with respect to me,” (81) and so that “no universal set of facts exists.” (96) Here, Rovelli uses the word fact to represent property. And lest this sounds a little too much like support for the alternative facts crowd, he brings in the quantum concept of entanglement, due to which, he demonstrates, when two observers view a property of (i.e., a fact about) an interaction between two other objects, they will necessarily observe the same property.

Rovelli notes that the debate over these fundamentally opposed points of view – matter having universal properties versus only having properties based on relationships with other objects – has existed in the context of a broader set of controversies that arose in the twentieth century, in areas such as philosophy and politics.

He describes disputes in the early Soviet Union that were percolating around the same time as the development of quantum theory, and that themselves grew out of philosophical divisions of the early 20th century. In particular, he recounts a falling out between Lenin, who held to the idea “that ‘there is nothing in the world except matter in motion in space and in time,’ and that we can arrive at ‘absolute truths’ through knowledge of matter,” and his former colleagues, such as Bogdanov, who felt that “things are much more subtle than naïve materialism would have it.” (127)

Lenin won these debates, of course, though Rovelli pointedly notes that in the long run, Bogdanov’s prediction “that Lenin’s dogmatism would … prevent [the Russian Revolution] from evolving further [and] render it sclerotic, [proved] prophetic.” (130) Rovelli argues that our deeply engrained physical intuition of the nature of reality have led to a similar sclerosis, one that threatens to hold back progress in physics: “what are these ‘most rooted metaphysical convictions’ of ours, if not what we have become accustomed to believe precisely by handling stones and pieces of wood?” (136) In a plea to not get trapped in our “most rooted metaphysical convictions,” Rovelli asks us to accept that our long-standing convictions about nature may need to be reconsidered.

Turning to a much earlier historical period, Rovelli discovers similarities to his proposal that the physical world is defined by relationships in ancient philosophical traditions that describe our conscious perception of the world as happening through relationships. He references the work of the Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, who lived in the second century CE, and who claimed, according to Rovelli, that

there is no ultimate or mysterious essence to understand – that is the true essence of our being. “I” is nothing other than the vast and interconnected set of phenomena that constitute it, each one dependent on something else.

Based on this understanding, “there is no sense, argues, in looking for an ultimate substratum.” As with Rovelli’s relational theory of reality, for Nāgārjuna all things exist “only in interdependence with something else.” (152-154) (An engaging and accessible review of the Buddhist conceptions of consciousness and the self, and its apparent validation by recent research in neuroscience and psychology, can be found in Robert Wright’s Why Buddhism Is True; my review linked to at right.)

Of course, Rovelli’s plea that we be open to the possibility that our intuition of nature as deterministic may be incorrect is a bit of a two-way street. Though he certainly seems justified in being unpersuaded by the seemingly unverifiable assumptions of the theories that have been proposed to-date to explain quantum physics in a way that maintains our expectation of determinism, that is not sufficient in itself to decide that determinism must be thrown out. Yes, we should be open to considering understandings of reality that are not deterministic – such as Rovelli’s relational model – and more generally that align with experimentally validated theories that run counter to our fundamental physical intuitions. But physicists’ have often enough before been misled into thinking they had reached the most basic level of understanding, and so a determinist can perhaps still argue, to quote Monty Python, “I’m not dead yet.”

Rovelli concludes his book with a fascinating exploration of recent developments in scientists’ conceptualization of consciousness. He describes the idea of relevant relative information: ‘information’ in the mind that is ‘relative’ – “generated by the interactions that weave the world” (168) – and ‘relevant’ – “its presence or absence influences my survival” (173). In this view, human consciousness is thought to be an encoding – if incredibly, and nearly unimaginably complex – of relevant relative information about our interrelationships with other physical objects.

Noting the parallels to his own relational interpretation of quantum mechanics, Rovelli concludes that: 

Meaning and intentionality are only particular cases of the ubiquity of correlations. There is a continuity between the world of meanings in our mental life and the physical world. Both are relations. (176) 

But, while the similarities are indeed striking, such a relational understanding of consciousness doesn’t seem to require the physical world to also be fundamentally defined by relationships. Rovelli himself makes clear that the view of consciousness as being an emergent property of the complexity of our brain’s relevant relative information processing capability has no direct connection to quantum physics, noting in particular that he doesn’t find the idea that “electrons and protons have a kind of proto-consciousness … persuasive.” (164)

Ultimately, however, whether or not a reader leaves convinced of Rovelli’s proposed view of physical reality as fundamentally tied to interrelationships between objects, Helgoland provides an engaging history of quantum theory and its interpretations, and a fascinating exploration of conscious. As has been the case in others of Rovelli’s works (my reviews linked to below), his sparkling and engaging prose make approachable what is perhaps one of the most challenging fields for lay readers to venture into. And by contextualizing the development of quantum mechanics within the broader history of our evolving understanding of the physical world, as well as the philosophical and political milieu of the twentieth century, Rovelli thrills as well as explains.


Other notes and information:

As part of his argument in support of the concept that "the qualities of an object are born from the interaction with something else," Rovelli compares it to "naïve materialism, according to which all mental phenomena are reducible to the movement of matter."  He also refers to this as "naïve realism," which he dismisses as "intuitively difficult to reconcile with subjective experience." (184)  And yet, elsewhere in the book, Rovelli claims that it is a mistake to allow our intuitive experience to lead us to believe that there must be a deterministic explanation underlying quantum mechanics, writing: "Our prejudices concerning how reality is made are just the result of our experience.  Our experience is limited." (136)  He seems to be wanting to have it both ways: dismiss our relying on our subjective experience when it contradicts quantum theory, but call upon it to support his proposed concept of objects being defined by their interactions.


Links here to my reviews of other books by Carlo Rovelli:



Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, August 7, 2021

Book Review: "Project Hail Mary" by Andy Weir

Project Hail Mary (2021)
Andy Weir (1972)
478 pages

Former software engineer turned author Andy Weir caught lightening in a bottle in his debut novel The Martian, creating a character whose resourcefulness captures readers’ imaginations, as he overcomes a series of problems in order to survive after being left behind on Mars. Like children’s movies that have a rich subtext for adults, Weir’s story provides plenty of exciting action and suspense to attract a general audience, while also allowing engineers and scientists geek out as one of their own becomes a hero by doing engineering and science galore. And, with the main character played in the movie version by Matt Damon, so much the better!

Weir has built his new novel, Project Hail Mary, around another highly resourceful main character, scientist Ryland Grace. Grace, however, finds himself on his own much farther from home than Mars, and comes to discover that he faces much greater stakes than his own survival.

Awakening on a spaceship, he finds he has amnesia, and so no idea who or where he is, or why. As his memories begin to return, however, he comes to realize that he is the sole survivor on a last-ditch effort to find a way to save Earth. Though help arrives for him from a most unexpected quarter, will his memories return soon enough to give him a chance to complete his work?

Grace’s amnesia plays a key role in the story, as Weir has him experience sudden flashbacks that reveal, bit by bit, his own background, and the origins and goals of his mission. The technique can feel a bit artificial, as Grace’s flashback are rather surprisingly opportune and detailed, but it has the advantage of leaving readers feeling the same uncertainties and mysteries Grace himself faces; we only learn the details of the situation as Grace himself does.

Perhaps cynically, one could argue that this approach of repeated flashbacks – through to the end of the story – also brings in a whole set of characters that will make for a more interesting film adaptation of the book. Such a conclusion is reinforced by the extent to which the story’s dialogue has the feel of being written with an eventual screenplay in mind; the one-liners and repartee often seem targeted at a theater audience. It’s not a bad thing, per se, but it does have a tendency to distract from the flow of the story, a bit like the breaks for the laugh-track during exchanges in a sit-com.

More critically, Weir’s novel strikes one significant discordant note when, late in the story, the origins of Grace’s amnesia are finally revealed. The explanation seems so out of character for the Grace we’ve come to know that it feels like a purely manufactured plot device, written in to justify constructing the story around the flashbacks that reveal to Grace his mission and its history.

But, such minor quibbles aside, Weir has again created a rip-roaring tale that is hard to put down once you start – I found myself so eager to find out what would happen next that I had to constantly force myself to slow down as I read it. And the discoveries Grace makes in his desperate mission to save Earth will surely fire the imagination of any reader remotely intrigued by what may be out there among the stars.


Bits and pieces:

My review of The Martian linked to at right. 


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Thursday, August 5, 2021

Book Review: "Klara and the Sun" by Kazuo Ishiguro

Klara and the Sun (2021)
Kazuo Ishiguro (1954)
303 pages

When imagining future technologies, it can be all too easy to assume that they will function perfectly as they go about improving our lives. The brilliance of Kazuo Ishiguro’s all-too-plausible depiction of our near future in Klara and the Sun, lies in its poignant reminder that, in reality, technological advancements generally have trade-offs – they can bring benefits, yes, but seldom perform as well as expected, and often come with unforeseen consequences.

Ishiguro sets the novel in the United States, some few decades from now. The story opens on a seemingly average block of a nameless city, in a store that sells typical household furnishings – but notably also a line of robots known as Artificial Friends, or AF’s, that have been developed as companions for children of the well-to-do. The title character, Klara, is one such AF; on display in the shop, she awaits being purchased by a family as their child’s special friend.

Given their intended role, the AF’s have been designed with a human form, and with faculties that focus on understanding human emotions and behaviors. Solar-powered, they are also imbued with an almost reverential connection to the sun. Klara, in fact, does not seem to have even the most basic physical understanding of what the sun is, viewing it instead as God-like, a capricious being who can be inadvertently angered, or appealed to for help.

In general, Klara’s a priori programming seems to contain very little physical understanding of the world; what she comes to know is based on her observations and interpretation of happenings within the store, and especially of people and events on the street outside its windows. Though unstated, it appears that this restricted knowledge of the AF’s is linked to their assignment of meeting the psychological needs of children, and so fulfilling their role as companion. It becomes clear, however, that this limitation also leaves them prone to the same magical, mystical thinking that humans often display when confronted with unfamiliar phenomena.

The need for some children to have such AF’s in the first place appears to be a direct consequence of the other major technological innovation of the novel: wealthy parents have the option of having their children undergo an unexplained medical treatment that significantly enhances intellectual capacity. Such children are referred to as lifted, and they receive their K-12 education at home, from virtual tutors, remaining largely isolated from other children until they go to university. For a child of this lifted cohort, their AF becomes an ersatz confidant and friend.

Through both of these marvels, Ishiguro explores the challenges of products designed to meet the insatiable consumer desire for new technology. Klara is the latest generation AF as the story opens; better than what came before, apparently, but also a model that had suffered from a design flaw in early versions, leaving an enduring stain on the entire line. Not surprisingly, when a newer, more advanced model suddenly appears in the shop, parents and children alike gravitate toward it.

And, more disturbingly, it becomes clear that the medical procedure for ‘lifting’ a child is not without risks. The potentially grave side-effects of the treatment leave parents who can afford it with a heart-rending choice between risking their child’s health and providing them the best possible future opportunities. Ishiguro’s imagined procedure makes manifest the present-day negative psychological impacts that can arise for children pressured into all-consuming resume building activities and advanced academic programs.

Along with the direct implications of these technologies on individuals, Ishiguro touches on the revolutionary aspects for society of having a class of medically enhanced elite: they inevitably rise to the top, as businesses naturally prefer such individuals for their talent, and the education system focuses on them to meet the needs of business. The free-market economy doggedly follows its merciless logic.

Ishiguro has, in fact, created a world sliding inexorably toward the kind of dystopia historian Yuval Noah Harari warns of in his 21 Lessons for the 21st Century. As I note in my review of Harari’s book (linked to at right), he foresees that the already underway “biotech” and “infotech” revolutions “could restructure not just economies and societies, but our very bodies and minds.” (7, Harari) Biotech advances will provide wonderous physical and mental enhancement, but remain affordable only to some few. And, when combined with advances in artificial intelligence that could eventually make most jobs “irrelevant,” will inevitably lead to ever more dramatic and irreversible levels of inequality, and so fundamentally undermine our project of civilization.

Such a world, of increasing economic and social pressures on families, is what Klara must navigate when she is eventually purchased to be the companion to a young girl, Josie. Though Klara is revealed to have a particularly powerful inquisitiveness about humankind, and so comes to develop an increasingly profound understanding of human behaviors and motivations, she struggles to make coherent sense of the conflicting needs, desires and compromises that motivate the actions of Josie and those around her. Can she navigate these complicated family dynamics and overcome her limited understanding of the physical world well enough to help Josie on her difficult path to adulthood?

In Ishiguro’s remarkable story Klara and the Sun, he focuses not on the wonders of the technologies he introduces; their potential benefits are easy enough to imagine. Rather, he forces readers to confront the inevitable imperfections and unforeseen consequences of such technologies – for individuals, and society at large. Within the aggressive grasping for more-and-better so deeply embedded into the structure and function of our present-day, consumer-driven, productivity-fetishizing society, can we stop long enough to ask whether the potential benefits are worth the inevitable – if often times studiously ignored – risks?


Other notes and information:


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, July 11, 2021

Book Review: "The Overstory" by Richard Powers

The Overstory (2018)
Richard Powers (1957)
502 pages

Richard Powers’ The Overstory provides a striking reminder of why novels can so often present a more impactful reckoning of a topic than non-fiction texts. In a complex portrait of our present-day world that offers both a paean to the profound interconnectedness and sublime beauty of nature, and a lament of humankind’s indifference to our escalating destruction of it, Powers manages to evoke a remarkably broad range of feelings – from transcendent awe to (borrowing the phrase of a friend of mine) homicidal rage.

As the book’s title and cover art suggest, trees play a central role in Powers’ story. Indeed, he introduces readers to his main characters in an opening set of chapters – gathered under the section heading Roots – by developing each of their stories around a particular species of tree present in their lives. These chapters have the feel of a series of apparently independent, if entertaining, short stories, however, and the trees in them serve as little more than interesting props, with the characters, for the most part, only dimly aware of their existence.

Then, however.

Some third of the way in, with the transition to a section titled Trunk, the tone shifts dramatically. The separate story lines begin to coalesce into a gradually tightening maelstrom, as each character comes to a dawning recognition of the profound wonder of trees and their central place in nature and human life, as well as of the rapidly accelerating devastation of the natural world and its implications for humankind. This epiphany occurs in different ways and at different speeds for each of them, but with it, each comes to recognize their own complicity in the on-going destruction, and to varying degrees, to become radicalized by it. And so, what began as a series of charming short stories built around interesting connections to trees, becomes a breathtaking exploration of how trees lie at the intersection of human civilization and the natural world.

Reaching back toward the very beginnings of life on Earth, Powers recalls the split that led one branch of life to evolve into trees, and another into humans, and he decries the myriad destructive consequences that have come from humankind having forgotten this common origin. Too many, he makes clear, have come to view trees as a part of the scenery as opposed to recognizing them as fundamental to the web of life; trees have become a resource to be exploited, with an assumed zero-cost to humankind. But, as one of his characters observes, this common view is not so much a rationally arrived at choice, as a path our civilization has blindly come to agree to follow: 

it’s [his] growing conviction that the greatest flaw of the species is its overwhelming tendency to mistake agreement for truth. Single biggest influence on what a body will or won’t believe is what nearby bodies broadcast over the public band. Get three people in the room and they’ll decide that the law of gravity is evil and should be rescinded because one of their uncles got shit-faced and fell off the roof. (84) 

Certainly, an observation that applies far beyond the topic of human understanding of the importance of our treatment of the natural world, all too accurately describing the metastasizing info-demic we currently face.

The catastrophic impacts of taking a utilitarian view of trees and forests drives the plot over the last two-thirds of Powers’ story. His characters find themselves increasingly at odds with the fundamental goals and beliefs of civilization, from economic interests that view forests, and nature generally, as a cost-free consumable resource, to consumers who view the resulting cheap products as a birthright. Late in the novel, one of the characters, having shifted repeatedly between normal life and spending significant time in the wilderness, considers the challenge of altering an economic course so deeply engrained in our civilization: 

We’re cashing in a billion years of planetary savings bonds and blowing it on assorted bling. And what [he] wants to know is why this is so easy to see when you’re by yourself in a cabin on a hillside, and almost impossible to believe once you step out of the house and join several billion folks doubling down on the status quo. (386)


With their newfound appreciation for the danger the natural world faces from our present-day lifestyles and economic systems, the characters begin to actively engage – to various degrees and in various ways – in defense of the forest. Through their evolving beliefs and increasingly aggressive actions, Powers explores the question of whether humankind as a whole can be made to realize the irreparable damage being done to the natural world and its implications for our future. Can a few committed souls redirect the powerful and seemingly inexorable engine of civilization? And, how best does one bring one’s own recognition of the catastrophic devastation underway to the awareness of others?

Through what was clearly extensive research into what has relatively recently come to be understood about trees and forests, Powers provides a fascinating introduction in The Overstory to trees and their role in the natural world. For those deeply wedded to a utilitarian view of nature, this newfound awareness of the role of trees could present an opportunity to rethink their beliefs. But the readers who will perhaps find Power’s story the most challenging are those who already have some concern over the human exploitation of the natural world, and have already sought to make a difference: such readers are forced to confront the difficult question of whether they are doing enough to change a system they recognize as broken, and to reckon with the many ways in which they compromise their concerns in the daily choices they make in their lives.


Other notes and information:

It is fairly common, when reading a well-told story, to not want it to end, to want to continue to engage with the characters and find out what will happen next.  Well into my reading of the The Overstory, I had a much more potent version of this feeling: it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't want it to end, that I could be content just reading <i>this</i> story – this remarkable, enthralling, disturbing, amazing tale – for the rest of my life.  Powers' story feels somehow universal, encompassing the sublime wonder and infinite variation of the natural world and the stunning variety of human interactions with one another and the nature we often forget we are an integral part of.


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, June 27, 2021

Book Review: "The Sum of Us" by Heather McGhee

The Sum of Us (2021)
Heather McGhee (1980)
415 pages

“The elite adds in the urgency of the zero-sum story – they are taking what you have; they are a threat to you – and it’s enough to keep a polity focused on scapegoats while no progress is made on the actual economic issues in most Americans’ lives.” (227, italics added)

The destructive consequences for nearly all Americans of this deceptive vision of our political, economic, and social existence lies at the heart of Heather McGhee’s trenchant and compelling book The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together.

Through analysis of the long-term consequences over the past century of a variety of public policies resulting from this zero-sum belief, McGhee makes the striking observation that although many have disproportionately affected Black Americans and people of color, in raw numbers, white Americans have actually borne the larger impact. And, as she makes clear, the impacts for poor and middle-class white Americans – convinced of a zero-sum narrative promoted by an elite pursuing their own self-interest – have been a kind of self-inflicted wound, an intentional decision that we don’t want them to have this benefit, so we’ll do without it too. Only by acknowledging the costs that have resulted for all Americans, she argues, can we begin to work toward policies that benefit everyone together.

McGhee argues that this zero-sum mindset was, in fact, already evident in early settlers’ treatment of Indigenous Americans and slaves. She finds its current-day incarnation, however, to have arisen during the Reconstruction period, when poor whites, seeking redress for the severe inequality of the time, began making common cause with the recently freed slaves. Wealthy Southern elites, threatened by the rise of this cross-racial class consciousness, countered by giving poor whites access to benefits that they simultaneously withheld from Black Americans. This successfully shifted the class conflict into a racial one, as, over time, poor and middle-class white Americans came to internalize the idea that making common cause with Black Americans only put their newly acquired benefits at risk.

This same narrative has continued to be resurrected by those who have a vested interest in the social, economic, and political status quo. And it has, McGhee argues, come to condition white Americans to view the preferential treatment in government policy that they receive relative to people of color as a natural right – that they are, in fact, more deserving – a feeling reinforced during the middle of the 20th century, as she documents, through a series of explicitly racist government initiatives aimed at promoting “a large, secure, and white middle class.” (22)

When, however, the Civil Rights era led to successful legal challenges to the preferential treatment for whites over other groups, particularly in government policy, white Americans, convinced of their natural right to advantages and preferential treatment, balked at the expansion of public benefits to Black Americans and other people of color: 

Once desegregation lowered barriers, people with power (politicians and executives, but also individual white homeowners, business owners, shop stewards, and community leaders) faced the possibility of sharing those benefits. The advantages white people had accumulated were free and usually invisible, and so conferred an elevated status that seemed natural and almost innate. White society had repeatedly denied people of color economic benefits on the premise that they were inferior; those unequal benefits then reified the hierarchy, making whites actually economically superior. What would it mean to white people, both materially and psychologically, if the supposedly inferior people received the same treatment from the government? The period since integration has tested many whites’ commitment to the public, in ways big and small. (22) 


As desegregation expanded, the elite turned yet again to the narrative of white superiority – but now, increasingly unable to explicitly tailor the benefits through racist government policies, used it to convince poor and middle-class Americans that giving up on particular benefits altogether was preferable to sharing them with Black Americans. The elite then parleyed this into a distrust of government that allowed them to cut back on government services, thereby dramatically reduce their own tax rates, and so significantly increase their own wealth.

Demonstrating the success the elite have had in instilling this belief, McGhee cites studies that have shown a correlation among white Americans between high levels of resentment against black people, and opposition to government spending. The result, she argues, is that 

When the people with power in a society see a portion of the populace as inferior and undeserving, their definition of “the public” becomes conditional. It’s often unconscious, but their perception of the Other as undeserving is so important to their perception of themselves as deserving that they’ll tear apart the web that supports everyone, including them. Public goods, in other words, are only for the public we perceive to be good. (30)


In a telling example that McGhee returns to metaphorically throughout the book, she describes how progressive policies in the first half of the 20th century, aimed at breaking down barriers to integration for poor white immigrants from Southern Europe, led to the installation in towns and cities across America of public pools – the public being considered whites. When, in the 1950’s, Black Americans successfully petitioned the courts to overturn the practice of segregated public services, communities were ordered to integrate their public pools. And, as McGhee documents, many communities drained their pools or transformed them into private clubs, rather than integrate them. This resulted in “a once-public resource becoming a luxury amenity” (28) – withdrawn to deprive Black Americans, but also no longer accessible to many poor and middle-class whites.

More generally, over the course of some half-dozen chapters, McGhee explores a variety of broader government and business policies arising from zero-sum thinking, and their impact on both the explicitly excluded – Black Americans and other people of color – as well as on white Americans. From college education to health care, homeownership, voting rights, and the environment, she describes key policies and practices, and their consequences. Time and again, as desegregation advanced, programs and that had largely or wholly supported white Americans were reduced or eliminated with the support and complicity of the very white Americans who had benefited from them. And the consistent consequence has been a kind of blowback, as the majority of those affected have come to be white Americans themselves. (In a post-script below, I touch on her arguments regarding various of these policy areas.)

Perhaps the most pernicious psychological underpinning of the zero-sum mentality, one that prevents so many universally beneficial policies from being realized, is the belief that the US is a meritocracy. McGhee argues that what has been created is, in fact, 

 an unfair “meritocracy” that denies its oppressions and pathologizes the oppressed. … The belief that the Unites States is a meritocracy, in which anyone can succeed if only they try hard enough, also supports the notion that anyone who is financially successful is so because they’ve worked harder or are somehow more innately gifted than others. Both ideas operate as a justification for maintaining our profoundly unjust economic system. Recent research … finds that “Americans, on average, systematically overestimate the extent to which society has progressed towards racial economic equality, driven largely by overestimates of current racial equality.” Wealthy white Americans, they find, have the most unrealistic assessment of how much progress the United States has made in terms of economic equality (and thus how fair the competition has been that they seem to have won). (232)


French economist Thomas Piketty makes a similar argument about the societal dangers of the illusion of meritocracy in his powerful treatise on economic inequality, Capital in the Twenty-First Century

The conventional wisdom that modern economic growth is a marvelous instrument for revealing individual talents and aptitudes …. has all too often been used to justify inequalities of all sorts, no matter how great their magnitude and no matter what their real causes may be, while at the same time gracing the winners in the new industrial economy with every imaginable virtue. (107, Piketty) 

Piketty claims that this belief in meritocracy becomes a self-fulfilling one, leading to support for policy decisions that dramatically reinforce and magnify economic inequality. (My review of Piketty’s book linked to at right.)


While this idea of the US as a pure and unbiased meritocracy infects those who are successful with a feeling that little or nothing in society needs fixed because others who didn’t make it have only themselves to blame, it also leads the ones who don’t make it to become convinced that their failure is due to their own personal shortcomings. And, as long as they believe that they can be successful if they just try hard enough – and that there are those who are worse off than themselves – then they are unwilling to agitate for the social improvements that could lead to a more equitable economy.

McGhee closes her book with an examination of communities and activities in the US that are attempting to change the zero-sum thinking and associated destructive social and economic policies. The goal, she argues, needs to be to get the country, as a whole, to recognize the possibility of a Solidarity Dividend – to discover how by coming together to address issues from social policy to environmental policy, all Americans can benefit, together. The challenge, she notes, is that 

“he plutocrats have always known that solidarity is the answer, that the sum of us can accomplish far more than just some of us. That’s why the forces seeking to keep the economic rules exactly as they are aim to cut off any sense of empathy white people who are struggling might develop for also-struggling people of color. … There’s something about the mentality of degrading others in your same position that can make you unable to see a better life for yourself, either. When you believe the dominant story that you’re on your own, responsible for all your own successes and failures, and yet you’re still being paid $7.25 an hour, what does that say about your own worth? The problem with the easy out that the right wing offers – scapegoating immigrants and people of color instead – is that the scapegoats aren’t actually the ones paying you poverty wages. (272-273)


Throughout the book, McGhee mixes statistics and data – copiously referenced, with anecdotal evidence from interviews with a diverse cross-section of people across the country, to persuasively undergird her arguments. The personal stories of those she with whom she spoke add faces and lived experience to the dry data, providing convincing evidence for the broad impact on so many Americans of the racist policies she examines. And she converts the concrete evidence of the where these destructive policies have led us into a powerful vision for a better future.

I began to think of all that a newfound solidarity could yield for our country, so young, so full of promise and power. Starting with healthcare and public college, I began to see the Solidarity Dividends waiting to be unlocked if more people would stop buying the old zero-sum story that elites use to keep us from investing in one another. (63)

 


Post-script

Below, I provide a bit more detail on several of the policy areas McGhee explores.

Education
We learn that the extensive programs for investment in college education put in place in the mid-20th century dried up in the wake of the civil rights era, with the “period of growth among students of color [since 1980], ensuring college affordability fell out of favor with lawmakers.” (42) Meanwhile, over that same period, “legislatures were tripling their expenditures on incarceration and policing [so that] by 2016, eighteen states were spending more on jails and prisons than they were on colleges and universities.” (45)

Health Care
On health care she notes that Truman’s attempt at universal health care failed when he could not get the support of “the segregationist caucus of southern “Dixiecrat” Democrats in his party … [who] saw the civil rights potential in his health care plans … as too great a cost to bear for the benefits of bringing health care to their region.” (51) McGhee notes that “the beneficiaries of Truman’s universal coverage would have been overwhelmingly white,” (51) and that instead the US is left with a system that is more costly, and yet has worse medical outcomes, than our “industrialized peers.”

Homeownership
At the heart of McGhee’s book is an extended dive into the issues surrounding homeownership; as becomes clear, the history of homeownership in the 20th century both illustrates the manner in which the zero-sum mentality guided destructive policy decisions, and lays bare their on-going, destructive consequences.

McGhee recounts how the New Deal era of the early 1930’s saw a tremendous expansion in government programs to provide financial security through homeownership, but also actively excluded Black Americans form these programs by instituting practices such as red-lining. She notes that: “To a very large degree, this was the genesis of the incredible racial wealth gap we have today.” (80) Then, in the late 1990’s extensive government deregulation left financial companies “unregulated and unaccountable to anything but the bottom line.” (83)

The complexity of the housing saga is stunning. Black Americans barred from building wealth in the mid-20th century, were susceptible in the early 2000’s to aggressive and unethical tactics of mortgage lenders. And the unregulated financial industry led to a wild housing bubble that, when it fully collapsed, becoming the Great Recession, destroyed home values for a broad swath of people – including working class white Americans – leading to a dramatic rise in foreclosures over the past decade.

Unions
Exploring the continued decline in union membership since it’s mid-20th century heyday, McGhee notes that, in particular in the American South, business leaders have been able to effectively play on racial and segregationist tendencies to keep their Black and white workers from coming together for the union cause. This has been accomplished by giving the white workers slightly better and higher paying jobs, so that they have something to lose relative to their Black co-workers – again reinforcing the zero-sum mentality.

Voting rights
McGhee’s chapter on the dark reality behind the romanticized American belief in the US founding fathers having created a full-standing democracy, and the continuous attempts to impose voting restrictions on significant segments of the population, serves as a timely primer on the true goals of so many current-day Republican-led state legislatures pursuing laws to restrict voting access.

Environment
On environmental policy, McGhee notes the connection between the willingness of US social and cultural norms to accept and expect that those seen as less deserving, as failing to have elevated themselves into the upper middle class or higher, are deserving of the worse living conditions and environment they live in. And this translates into support by the elite for political actions that, for example, locate landfills or polluting factories into poor or working-class neighborhoods.

The popular narrative is that Republicans tend to be against action on climate change for fiscal reasons, but McGhee describes the results of a study that revealed: “When one controlled for partisanship, racial resentment (“a general orientation toward Blacks characterized by a feeling that Blacks do not try hard enough and receive too many favors”) was highly correlated with climate change denialism. 

Asking respondents if they agree that climate change is largely due to human activity, we see … a 57% probability that a white Republican disagrees that climate change is anthropogenic [caused by humans] at the lowest level of racial resentment, increasing to 84% at the highest level of racial resentment.” So, it’s not just a symptom of increased partisan polarization; even within the Republican Party, racism increases the likelihood of opposing climate action. (200)

It becomes again a zero-sum game, where the social norm is that someone must lose for the other side to win. And, she argues, the answer is not that the landfills should be located in well-to-do neighborhoods; it’s that they should at a minimum be evenly distributed, and better yet, the well-to-do should be willing to pay for the expense to not have them located near populated areas, or to support other means of disposing of waste.


Other notes and information:

In this review I’ve followed McGhee’s conspicuous, if unexplained, distinction of capitalizing Black Americans, but not white Americans.
 

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Saturday, May 22, 2021

Connections: The Ubiquitous U-shape of 20th Century Trends and the Implications for the Interconnectedness of Issues

One persistent and fundamental barrier to progress on so many contentious social, economic and political challenges has been the inability – or unwillingness – of those engaging on them to recognize and acknowledge the fundamental interconnectedness that exists between issues.

Activists, in particular, too often seem to focus narrowly on their specific issue, and promote their perception of its immediate causes, consequences, and necessary solutions; they not only argue strenuously for their issue’s primacy over all other concerns, but often actively create exclusion around their beliefs: anyone not completely aligned with them on their issue and solutions becomes an enemy to be shunned. Such a narrow-minded stance leads to acrimonious partisan bickering that alienates potential supporters, all too often resulting in a failure to jointly pursue what could have been more comprehensive and effective solutions. The situation calls to mind a front-page headline in the New York Times from June 16, 2019, Lost in Abortion Noise: Nuance – which caught my attention not for the particular topic of abortion, but rather for the headline’s applicability to most any fill-in-the-blank topic, especially at this fraught moment.

I was reminded again recently of the importance of recognizing the profound relationship between many issues as I read two works that, although addressing different topics, share fundamental connections: author Shaylyn Romney Garrett and political scientist Robert D. Putnam’s revealing essay Why Did Racial Progress Stall in America?, and economist Thomas Piketty’s monumental work on the causes and evolution of inequality Capital in the Twenty-First Century.

For their part, Garrett and Putnam explore the evolution of racial progress from the late 1800’s to the present day by examining the trends of metrics for Black Americans, such as the life expectancy gap, high school completion, integration in K-12 education, income, homeownership, and voting registration and turnout. Their analysis reveals that a dramatic improvement occurred in these metrics during the middle of the 20th century, well before the civil rights movement of the 1960’s. But, as their data reveals, this momentum was lost beginning in the late 1960’s.

They attribute this slow-down in part to “white backlash” against the aggressiveness of the enforcement of the 1964 Civil Rights Act. And it would have been easy enough, and intuitively accepted as correct by many, if they had simply left it at that: white racism slowed racial progress.

Instead, they dig deeper, going on to describe a second fundamental reason for the slowdown in the improvement of these metrics, based on broader social and economic transformations in the United States since the Reconstruction era. In their analysis, the rate of racial progress becomes an integral part of a larger set of dynamics that occurred in the United States over the past century and a half:

On the heels of Reconstruction came a period that Southerners called “redemption,” a violent project on the part of vanquished Southern elites to restore white hegemony in the wake of the progress Black Americans had made after the Civil War. Redemption coincided with the vast upheaval of industrialization and urbanization, when the United States more broadly plunged into the Gilded Age. Gross extremes of wealth and poverty, a tattered social fabric rife with factionalism and nativism, a gridlocked public square and a culture of narcissism were its hallmarks. The late 1800s was thus, by nearly every measure — including the stark retrenchment of nascent racial equality — the worst of times.

But as the century turned and the Gilded Age gave way to the Progressive Era, America experienced a remarkable moment of inflection that set the nation on an entirely new trajectory. A diverse group of reformers grabbed the reins of history and set a course toward greater economic equality, political bipartisanship, social cohesion and cultural communitarianism. This shift and the long-run trends it set in motion are detailed in scores of statistical measures in [our book] “The Upswing.”

Some six decades later all of those upward trends reversed, setting the United States on a downward course that has brought us to the multifaceted national crisis in which we find ourselves today, which bears a remarkable resemblance to the Gilded Age. The wide array of statistical evidence compiled in “The Upswing” — ranging from the distribution of income pre- and post-taxes to bipartisanship in Congress and split-ticket voting and from civic engagement, church membership and social trust to parents’ choice of their children’s first names — shows that the Progressive Era represented a fundamental turning point in American history.

These interconnected phenomena can be summarized in a single meta-trend that we have come to call the “I-we-I” curve: An inverted U charting America’s gradual climb from self-centeredness to a sense of shared values, followed by a steep descent back into egoism over the next half century.

The moment America took its foot off the gas in rectifying racial inequalities largely coincides with the moment America’s “we” decades gave way to the era of “I.” At the mid-’60s peak of the I-we-I curve, long-delayed moves toward racial inclusion had raised hopes for further improvements, but those hopes went unrealized as the whole nation shifted toward a less egalitarian ideal.

A central feature of America’s “I” decades has been a shift away from shared responsibilities toward individual rights and a culture of narcissism. Economic inequality has skyrocketed, and along with it have come massive disparities in political influence and a growing concentration of political-economic power in the hands of a few billionaires. Polarization and social isolation have increased. Whatever sense of belonging Americans feel today is largely to factional (and often racially defined) in-groups locked in fierce competition with one another for cultural control and perceived scarce resources. Contemporary identity politics characterizes an era that could well be described as a “War of the ‘We’s’.” This is a reality that predated the election of Donald Trump, though his presidency threw it into sharp relief. And a new presidential administration will not by itself restore American unity.

Thus, Garrett and Putnam point to a range of mid-twentieth century Progressive Era achievements, including “greater economic equality, political bipartisanship, social cohesion and cultural communitarianism,” as explaining why “positive change [on a variety of social metrics] for Black Americans was actually faster in the decades before the civil rights revolution than in the decades after.” Reversal of these achievements starting in the late 1960’s, however, slowed further progress for Black Americans. Together, these successive events resulted over the course of the twentieth century in what they refer to as “an inverted U charting America’s gradual climb from self-centeredness to a sense of shared values, followed by a steep descent back into egoism.”.

This “inverted U” shape that Garrett and Putnam describe as charting the evolution over the past century and a half of the feeling among Americans of shared values bears a marked relationship to what economist Thomas Piketty’s work reveals about the causes and evolution of inequality over that same period. In his analysis, Piketty observes that many of the key economic metrics related to inequality have followed distinctly “U-shaped curves” (30) – or inverted U-shape curves, depending on the metric – over the course of the twentieth century. (My review of Piketty’s book is linked to at right.) 

An example of the U-shaped behavior Piketty found in his analysis can be seen in the first figure in his book, included below, charting income inequality in the United States over the past century.

In observations that parallel Garrett and Putnam’s description of the variety of social and political policies that have driven the evolution of shared values in the United States, Piketty notes that “the history of the distribution of wealth has always been deeply political, and it cannot be reduced to purely economic mechanisms,” (27-28) and that “the phenomena underlying the various curves are quite different and involve distinct economic, social, and political processes.” (31) Here, again, the complex interplay of events and effects.

Similarly, Piketty’s charting of the evolution of capital concentration in the US supports Garrett and Putnam’s analysis. He notes that wealth inequality had reached exorbitant highs during the Gilded Age of the late 1800’s, but then dropped “between 1910 and 1950 … above all [as] a consequence of war and of political policies adopted to cope with the shocks of war,” (27) that is, with the destruction of the two World Wars and the institution of progressive taxation to both support the wars and create social programs aimed at reducing extreme inequality. This was then followed in the late 20th century, however, by dramatic changes in the social, political and economic milieu, changes that led to conservative governments lowering tax rates on high incomes, and to falling economic growth rates, returning the US to a regime of rising inequality.

Overall, Piketty’s data reveals an economic basis for Garrett and Putnam’s “I-we-I” pattern of shared values. He argues that the Gilded Age excesses created a climate for change in the US in the early 20th century, a period when tax rates hovered below 10%, including for the highest incomes:

[The] fear of growing to resemble Europe [with its entrenched nobility benefiting from inherited wealth] was part of the reason why the United States in 1910-1920 pioneered a very progressive estate tax on large fortunes, which were deemed to be incompatible with US values, as well as a progressive income tax on incomes thought to be excessive. (440)

This progressive feeling was reinforced when “the Great Depression of the 1930s struck the United States with extreme force, and many people blamed the economic and financial elites for having enriched themselves while leading the country to ruin.” (650) Piketty notes that progressive sentiment – the “we” feeling of Garrett and Putnam – led to support for income tax rates and inheritance tax rates that rose to well over 50% for those in the highest income bracket between 1910 and 1980, in order to create a strong social support network.

The pendulum began to swing back again around 1980 according to Piketty, who notes that “perceptions of inequality, redistribution, and national identity changed a great deal over the course of the twentieth century, to put it mildly,” (440) resulting in a turn against the social state. In wording that recalls Garrett and Putnam’s comments on “white backlash” and “factional (and often racially defined) in-groups locked in fierce competition with one another for cultural control and perceived scarce resources,” Piketty notes that in recent decades “US prejudices in regard to the poor … seem to be more extreme than European prejudices, perhaps because they are reinforced by racial prejudices.” (608n17, emphasis added) and further:

In the United States there is less of a consensus [than in Europe]. Certain substantial minority factions radically challenge the legitimacy of all federal programs or indeed of social programs of any kind. Once again racial prejudice seems to have something to do with this. (612n24, emphasis added)


 Piketty charts how these changing perceptions in the US led conservative administrations to lower tax rates on the highest earners as the 20th century ended, shifting from a progressive to a regressive tax structure, with opponents of high taxation among the wealthy often using hypocritical, misleading, or specious arguments against it. The result has been dramatically increasing levels of inequality, a significant strain on the government’s ability to continue investing in social programs in the US, and so a return to the sentiment of each individual for themselves. We thus see the completion of the U-shaped curves of Piketty’s data on inequality, as levels again reach toward those of the Gilded Age.

Considering the two works together, then, we find revealed an intimate connection between the U-shaped curve Garrett and Putnam describe for the “I-we-I” of shared values, and those Piketty charts for inequality. And, with the understanding of this connection comes the broader recognition of the importance of considering the fundamental relationship between social, economic, and political policies in order to properly understand the origins of, and solutions for, the ongoing challenges society faces.


Post-script:

As I completed this post, I was reading Heather McGhee’s The Sum of Us, a powerful exploration of the impacts of racism in the US; my review of her book will be up as a blog post soon. She takes a broad view of racism and racial progress, examining its evolution over the past century, as well as the social and economic consequences for American society as a whole. 

Interestingly, her evidence for the mid-20th century origins of, and ongoing destructive impacts from, institutional racism in US government policies and structural racism more generally provides a powerful counterpoint to Garrett and Putnam’s arguments – fleshing out, in fact, some of my admittedly indistinct unease with their thesis as I read their article. I plan to explore this as part of my upcoming blog review of McGhee’s book.
 

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf