Book Review: "The Trouble with Reality" by Brooke Gladstone

The Trouble with Reality (2017)
Brooke Gladstone
92 pages

As co-host of the program On the Media, Brooke Gladstone provides listeners with a wide-ranging and trenchant analysis of the media landscape, exposing the reality behind coverage too frequently filled with misleading, unsubstantiated, and facile arguments. As a particular example of this, she and her colleagues have so often had to address a variety of commonly repeated media myths and misinformation during coverage of major incidents – natural disasters, say, or mass shootings – that they have developed a series of Breaking News Consumer’s Handbooks for such events, to help listeners navigate to the reality of what has happened.

With the divisive social environment and political partisanship that has consumed the US over the past decade, however, Gladstone has shifted her gaze beyond the media, to a broader concern for the future of our republic. In her essay The Trouble with Reality, she explores what she finds to be at the heart of this dysfunction, our inability to agree on a common reality, a common set of facts.

Our challenge begins, she observes, in that each of us experiences the world differently, while at the same time struggling to comprehend how others perceive it. She describes how we each build our personal model of the world out of a set of stereotypes – simplifications that allow us to quickly make sense of what we experience. The challenge arises in that 

Stereotypes, [journalist Walter] Lippman wrote, focus and feed on what is familiar and what is exotic, exaggerating each in the process: “The slightly familiar is seen as very familiar and the somewhat strange as sharply alien.” (9)

 Thus, even as we create stereotypes out of our individual experiences, these stereotypes go on to color our views of subsequent experiences, in turn reinforcing our existing stereotypes.

The trouble arises from the tendency of this process to spiral into a fixed state, a hardened view of the world which gradually closes our minds to any new information that contradicts what we already feel certain about. Gladstone captures what we need to strive for to overcome this ossification of our thinking in an observation, and recommendation, from neuroscientist David Eagleman, one that struck a deep chord with me:

[We should accept] the idea of limited knowledge, of unobtainable information, and of unimagined possibilities. Consider the criticisms of policy, the assertions of dogma, the declarations of fact that you hear every day – and just imagine if all of these could be infused with the proper intellectual humility that comes from appreciating the amount unseen. (17) 

Developing this ability to recognize, and accept, nuance in the face of complexity could allow us to avoid the violent divisiveness that seems to accompany discussions on most, if not all, issues these days. Nuance seems to gain little traction in the debates of our day, however; as I’ve written elsewhere in this blog: one of my favorite New York Times front page headlines is Lost in Abortion Noise – Nuance, since it seems a fitting, generic headline that could be used for any fill-in-the blank topic in these days of disagreements filled with strident over-simplification.

(A related theme lies at the heart of journalist Anne Applebaum’s book Twilight of Democracy: The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism (my review linked to at right), in which she references the quite disturbing claim of behavioral economist Karen Stenner, “that about a third of the population in any country has … an authoritarian predisposition … people who cannot tolerate complexity.” (16, Applebaum))

As one such example of a set of stereotypes forming a personal model of the world, Gladstone points to our understanding of how democracy works, and how Donald Trump has split the country in that sense. For half the country, she notes, Trump – whether or not he has formally broken the law – has “shattered their world view … our deep-rooted belief in the infallibility of our democracy,” (21) And it was not that this half of the country necessarily believed that the democratic system was perfect; many, she notes, “knew the system was rigged … [b]ut once the bad behavior was exposed, the guilty were supposed to pay the consequences, at least in the court of public opinion.” (41) That this has not been the case seems inconceivable for that half of the population. For the other half, however, who have largely felt that our rigged system has been rigged against them, it’s unimportant that there have been no consequences; they feel the system itself must be overthrown, at whatever cost.

As she wraps up her well-crafted and engaging essay, Gladstone provides little optimism for our future. She acknowledges and accepts the difficulty in asking each of us to recognize our own, and others, personal models of the world, as well as associated stereotypes, and to be open to working to alter them. “The price is very high [and] it’s rational to conclude it is not worth the considerable trouble and time required to venture forth, to protest, to doubt, to listen, to changer others, or to be changed.” (85) But, for those willing to push back, to attempt to reestablish a new reality in their minds, and so “to repair and improve the nation,” (83) she returns to the critical idea she opens with, the need to recognize that 

[while] our facts are incomplete, our truth limited … [we need to] venture out to take in a few new sights, a few new facts, to start to figure out what’s going on out there. (81)

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Other notes and information:

Naomi Oreskes and Erik M. Conway, in their fascinating history

The Big Myth: How American Business Taught Us to Loathe Government and Love the Free Market, provide a detailed examination of how groups interested in biasing our models of the world to further their own power and wealth go about doing so. (My review linked to at right.) Oreskes has also been interviewed by Gladstone for On the Media; their discussion has been aired a couple of times, including once here.

For a completely different exploration of reality, that of the mysteries of our natural world being explored by physicists, I highly recommend Carlo Rovelli’s Reality is Not What it Seems, and Adam Becker’s What is Real?. My reviews of them linked to at right.

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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

Book Review: "The Lost Cause" by Cory Doctorow

The Lost Cause (2023)
Cory Doctorow (1971)
358 pages

Significant technological advances have occurred over the last decade or so that support the shift to a cleaner, more sustainable future, in particular in terms of stemming the tide of greenhouse gas emissions. As just two examples: electric vehicle sales have increased faster than imagined even a few short years ago, and solar panel prices have dropped to the point that they have become a cheaper energy source than fossil fuels.

Shift one’s focus from the technical to the political, however, and the situation appears far bleaker, as the toxic present-day atmosphere in the US of rank partisanship and extreme polarization has led to the politicization of so many issues, including that of climate change. With even the reality of the threat of greenhouse gas emissions a point of contentious debate, progress on reducing them has become difficult to achieve.

In his novel The Lost Cause, Corey Doctorow foresees this impasse dragging on well into the 22nd century. He imagines increasing sea level rise, wildfires and droughts making portions of the US uninhabitable, even as die-hard deniers cling to their position, undermining attempts to address the problem and its impacts. Meanwhile, wealthy tech industrialists, with support from acolytes and fans, circumvent the government and impose solutions mostly beneficial to their own profits and lifestyle.

The story centers on high school senior Brooks Palazzo, who lives in Burbank, California with his grandfather, after the death of his parents some years earlier during a pandemic. About to graduate from high school, Brooks plans to work on a project south of Los Angeles, in a coastal town shifting its buildings higher up into the hills, in reaction to rising sea levels. With the passage of a Green New Deal bill a decade earlier, a broad set of policies now exist to address climate change impacts, and Brooks and his friends have become part of a larger movement that considers itself “the first generation not to fear the future.” Building on this new-found optimism, these young activists engage in a variety of concrete programs designed to create a better world.

Brooks finds his idealism undermined at home, however, as his grandfather hosts meetings of friends – “Magas” – who vehemently reject the dramatic changes being implemented and rail against the loss of what they consider their Burbank and their country. They view with disgust those who, like Brooks, want to transform the town into a more sustainable community, as well as a welcoming community for climate refugees from more profoundly affected parts of the US.

Tensions rise to a breaking point early in the story when a stream of climate refugees arrive, escaping “farms [that] had dried up and blown away after a solid decade of drought.” (61) While Brooks and many others in Burbank look for ways to welcome these internal immigrants, and find or build housing for them, the “Maga clubs” gear up to push the newcomers back out of town, by any means necessary. As threats of violence grow, Brooks must decide how far he is willing to go to fight for his ideals.

Doctorow leaves no doubt which side he’s on in the story, particularly through his representation of the Maga’s, whether individually or as a group, as rabid fanatics. At one point, for example, Brooks notes that 

The Maga Clubs were really feeling their oats. With [a Republican back] in the White House, they were convinced their long nightmare was ending and with it, the obligation to look after one another and acknowledge that the world is a shared space full of living, breathing humans who deserved the same happiness and comfort that you did. They just hated that idea. (62) 

On the other side, Doctorow represents Brooks and his friends as largely high-minded individuals who want only the best for the world.

One can broadly agree with Doctorow’s position as expressed through Brooks, and yet still feel that the novel rather cartoonishly oversimplifies the social and political dynamics at play. Aside from some politicians who struggle to hold onto their positions by attempting to placate both sides, everyone in the story falls on one stereotypically represented extreme of the conflict or the other – effectively, either a member of Greenpeace or of the Proud Boys.

Even Doctorow’s title makes evident his sympathies. In a story about climate change, one could imagine that the lost cause references a definitive failure to address it. It quickly becomes clear, however, that Doctorow has a different meaning in mind, apparently likening the Magas in his story to the history of groups promoting the lost cause of the confederacy.

As someone who laments with how unwelcome nuance has become in most any political, economic or cultural discussion these days, I struggled with the lack of it in Doctorow’s novel. That said, if one takes his starting point as the likely scenario – that little will be accomplished over the coming century to decisively address the issue of climate change and its impacts – perhaps the world will arrive at a point in which one must clearly choose one side or the other: either fight for solutions or continue to resist any change.

The extent to which he goes to make it easy for readers to distinguish good and evil in the story actually ends up giving it a bit of a confusing out-of-time feel. This confusion begins with the headlining comment on the inside front jacket cover, which states in large letters: “America, a generation from now,” and has a story summary ending with “they’re our grandfathers, our uncles, our neighbors.” It feels like the setting – if one thinks of a standard generation of 20 or 30 years – lies perhaps just a decade or two in our future. And the use of present-day terms like Green New Deal and Maga reinforce that impression.

As one proceeds into the story, however, the setting in time becomes unclear. The extent of the sea level rise, for example – submerging Miami and pushing coastal cities in California to rebuild farther inland – seems something unlikely to occur just a couple of decades from now, even in worst-case scenarios. In addition, Brooks recalls a Republican presidential candidate who “won in ’34,” (49) which, at least in the 21st century, is not a presidential election year.

It gradually becomes clear that the setting is not 2036, but 2136, and that the Maga people are not our grandfathers but our grandchildren, or even great grandchildren – the grandfathers of the new generation of climate activists in the early 22nd century. And, in that case, it becomes hard to believe that – however the next century plays out – anyone is still using the terms the Green New Deal or Maga. Just consider how dated slogans and most anything from the early 1900’s feel today.

And, although my sympathies lie with the novel’s protagonist, Brooks, he presents an odd combination – an 18- or 19-year-old who seems to contain both youthful idealism and yet an oddly mature adult engagement with his community. I kept waiting for his seemingly simplistic view of the world to catch up with him, for the other shoe to drop as reality becomes more complex than the good versus evil he imagines – but, it never did.

The themes of Doctorow’s novel bear a strong resemblance to those of Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future (my review linked to at right).  Where, however, Robinson’s story spans the globe and presents a cacophony of activists of different stripes pursuing a sometimes conflicting cornucopia of potential solutions over the coming few decades to address climate change and its consequences, Doctorow stays tightly focused on Burbank, with only hints of events in the broader United States or internationally. Here again, the messy path forward Robinson lays out, with peoples globally repeatedly working at cross purposes and often having to be dragged along unwillingly, feels like a not unreasonable extrapolation of our present-day world. Doctorow’s story, on the other hand, makes it a little too clean: good guys versus bad guys, and the good guys just need to persist in banding together to overcome the reactionary primitives.

A bit of a litany of complaints here, I know. Especially given that I did enjoy the story, in particular the variety of technologies that Doctorow imagines being developed to quickly react when climate impacts inundate some part of the world and, as well, his vision of a profoundly engaged generation not taking ‘no’ for an answer in their fight against climate change. Sad to think that he might be right that another century will pass without significant action on that front, but, in the end, he does provide a hopeful view of what might – eventually – be possible.

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Other notes and information:

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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