Education: Let’s begin by teaching kids what a subject actually is.

Guest blogger Paleni here. I’m going to hijack Tellurian’s blog for a bit to talk about education.

I have a very intelligent, creative, fun-loving scientist friend who was put on the fast track for science at an early age. He’s very smart and highly educated, but he has only ever had cursory education in the humanities. At one point, he expressed distaste for the study of literature, saying that he didn’t see the point in learning about the symbolism in Jane Eyre and so on. I was stricken to realise that he had no idea that that was not the point of studying literature– that he didn’t even understand what the point was, what the whole discipline was about. I explained it to him, and it seemed that no one had ever told him why we study literature, or in fact what the study of literature actually is– that it’s not about learning things about specific books, but about knowing how to read things deeply and understand the metaphors and layers of meaning, as well as how the nuances in what we read (and watch) influence the way we see the world. He didn’t understand that a literature class isn’t meant to teach you dubiously-certain facts about Jane Eyre, it’s meant to use Jane Eyre as a tool to help you understand how to study literature. In all of the lit classes he’d been required to take, no one had ever taken the time to explain to him the point of the discipline or even how it was done.

I’ve seen similar stories from elsewhere– for example, much as I love the webcomic xkcd, the creator really doesn’t seem to take the humanities seriously at all– he seems to think they’re about putting on an intellectual hat and looking smart. My guess is that Randall Munroe simply hasn’t had any humanities classes that did a decent job of teaching him what he was actually studying in the first place. And this is by no means limited to the humanities; if everyone understood the scientific method and why we use it, creationists and pseudoscientists wouldn’t be able to get anyone to believe that their ideas were actually some kind of science.

A friend of mine who was homeschooled said recently that creationists were able to pull the wool over the eyes of homeschooled kids whose Christian parents didn’t teach them how science worked. I replied that it was hardly just a failing of homeschooling– public schools don’t teach the scientific method well enough, either. I went to a public school, and every year we had a little intro where we would go over the steps of the scientific method for a little while; we might even have a quiz on those steps; but it was the same every year, and it always bored me because it was always the same as it had been in previous years. Nowadays I realise that the problem is that we don’t spend enough time on the scientific method– kids memorise the steps, but they don’t understand why each step is important, why the method works, or why something that doesn’t follow those steps– regardless of whether or not we know it’s true by some other means– is not science.

This, I think, is the quintessential “failure of American education” that people go around lamenting and trying to fix via wrongheaded means. Diverting students’ learning time to memorising facts for standardised tests is exactly the opposite of what we should be doing; we need to divert their time back to understanding the fundamental basics of a discipline, the ideas behind it and the reason for doing it, the way it works, and what it actually is. It’s a failure across the board in every subject: very rarely are students taught why they’re learning a subject, or how the experts in that field go about undertaking it and how they learn from the methods they use. The perennial question kids ask, “When am I going to use this?” should be a ridiculous question like asking when they’re going to find it useful to know how to do their laundry. “You’ll understand how things work from this, silly, and you’ll know how to evaluate the world around you better every day.”

Children (and experienced children, aka immature adults) need to understand the motivation for learning, rather than just being told that learning is good; they need to realise how they will benefit. And when they grow up, they have to have actually received those benefits: an understanding of how to apply these disciplines to the world. That is more important than memorizing which atoms bond together to form what molecules, or the ear symbolism in Hamlet; those facts will get them absolutely nowhere if they don’t know what science or literature actually is. Surely, if we want more of our children to be interested in choosing a discipline in which to excel, we want them to understand what they are getting into and why all the long hard study will be worth it. But far more important than churning out little geniuses is to make sure that our next generation can evaluate things better than a confused sheep trying to figure out which flock to tag behind.

Oppression hurts the oppressors: a theory.

So I’ve been thinking lately about the idea that wrongdoing (of the type that involves harm to others and does not involve obvious harm to the self) ultimately hurts the person bringing it about as well as the victim of the wrongdoing. I specifically say “as well as” instead of “as much as”; I think measuring hurt in quantities is not really possible except in the most extreme of cases (a pricked finger versus losing a limb/one’s whole life’s work and reputation/one’s life), is only ever really applicable when we speak of physical injuries, which we are not doing here (as the impact of an incident, whether seemingly large or seemingly small, on any given person’s mind is not measurable and differs wildly between people– some people might not react strongly to being kidnapped and held at gunpoint, yet a casual slur could echo in their minds for years), and is ultimately not useful in that it tends to bring about the very problem that plagues this entire situation: the feeling that one person in the scenario has been “more hurt”, or that their hurt is more legitimate, because they were not the one who set out to do the hurting.

There’s a very strong feeling in our society*– so strong that it’s almost impossible to escape from– that the “victim” in any given scenario, the one who did not intend to take part in it, is the only one whose hurt is worth treating, caring about or even acknowledging. By contrast, we don’t attempt to heal the perpetrator of a wrongdoing, typically (and if we do, it is usually for the sake of making society safer from their wrongdoings, not for the perpetrator themselves, and puts definite emphasis on their being a criminal who needs reform rather than a victim). Instead, we often hurt them, restricting their freedoms or otherwise inconveniencing them in some way. This is so standardised in our society that we don’t even think twice about it, typically. Even if we don’t believe in punishment, it still feels natural to most people that there is only one victim of a wrongdoing and only one person whose injuries from it deserve treatment. The reasoning for this is probably twofold: firstly, the feeling that the perpetrator of a wrongdoing did what they did willingly, and so any injury that comes to them because of it is “their own fault”; and secondly, the lack of recognition, in general, that committing a wrongdoing could ever harm anyone.

But I think it does harm. In my opinion as a layperson when it comes to psychology, in the case of the non-sociopathic individual (that is, someone who is capable of feeling remorse for their wrongdoings), there will likely be any combination of emotional conflict, guilt, worry, fear, sadness, self-hatred, and self-doubt working their way through a person as a result of any wrongdoing they have committed. There will also possibly be, because of these pains, a tendency to escape these burdening feelings by redefining the wrongdoing as an acceptable thing in their mind, thus pushing a person further away from a mindset in which they are inclined to examine their morality. One could argue that “they brought this on themselves”, but when one commits a wrongdoing, do they really understand the full extent to which it can damage them? Furthermore, does not the idea that it is “their own fault” suggest a person who from the outset is naturally amoral, who has not been subject to negative influence from their environment but is simply inclined to be bad? And if even if the above two conditions were the case, does it then follow that it is wrong to help the person or to see them as injured when they are? If a cruel person were the victim of a wrongdoing in which they played no part, would we not still treat them as the victim?

I think because wrongdoing harms, that harm should be cared for and treated in all cases, not followed with more harm, leading to ever more twisted and corrupt individuals who feel outcast and unloved by society, falling ever further from its embrace. This goes against people’s natural tendencies very strongly; the victims of wrongdoing often feel that to be kind to the wrongdoer is an outrage, because their hurts are legitimate (i.e. in a form recognised by society; for example, we recognise that being the victim of violent crime often traumatises people) and they did nothing to deserve it (implying that it is morally good that those who do harm receive harm in return), and, perhaps, ultimately, because to treat the wrongdoer as someone in the same position as them, “on the same side” as them, when this person has clearly made themselves The Enemy to the victim, seems abhorrent.

But if we are to progress as a society we must abandon the idea of an enemy: of a human whose existence, whose health and wellbeing, are in opposition to ours and whose happiness is of insufficient concern that they can be freely mistreated. One’s opinions, one’s actions, might be in opposition to ours or even a threat to our very lives, but if we do not seek to recognise, consistently, that no human’s inherent being is in opposition to ours, that we are all on the same side in life, that we all deserve to live and be happy, the idea that the wellbeing of anyone who opposes you should be ignored will continue to propagate, and that is an entirely arbitrary and wrongheaded notion– as one should know the second they realise it immediately applies to each “side” in the eyes of the other. The inward flinching we feel at the thought of our “enemies” being cared for is a vengeful, divisive notion. The idea that it matters “who was hurt more” is a vengeful, divisive notion. There was hurt, and it should be repaired, that all humans may live better lives.

I heard once– sadly I can’t remember where– of a society where those who commit actions that the law defines as criminal are brought into a circle of their peers and told, by each, of their good deeds and the good things about their nature. Apparently, this society has a very low crime rate. When we continue to wound those who are already wounded enough that their sense of empathy does not hold them back from doing harm, do we really think we are going to save them, or are we condemning them immediately, categorising them as criminals and cutting them off from kindness, no longer conscious of their humanity or caring if they become better people? Have we already decided that they have broken the rules and thus are outcast?

Furthermore, is this morally good? If it is wrong to hurt, to take from another’s human freedoms, to punish, to imprison, is it ever right to do those things to anyone, at any time, regardless of what they have done to others? Is it right to do those things just because you’re the government? Is it right, ever?

Furthermore– and this is more a (rhetorical) question for me personally than anything else– is it spiritually right, by my beliefs? Is it right to divide people into “criminal” and “victim”? Is it right to perpetuate notions that humankind can be split into enemy groups, to perpetuate the idea that it is rightful for the victim to feel resentment and anger when the perpetrator of a crime is well-treated, to pit human against human and thus parts of the universe against itself– to say that opposing groups are not worthy of love, are not worthy of understanding, from each other, and that we should not attempt to facilitate this, that it is a lost cause? Is that not to deny that the very nature of the universe is a united whole?

*By which I mean Generic Western English-Speaking Society that I don’t really have a word for.

A step away from “fight for what’s right”….

I ran across a quote today that made me squirm, as part of an advertisement for activist clothing designs: “if you’re right, you can’t be too radical”.

Even if one takes that statement literally, assuming someone who is right, that isn’t true; though your cause may be right, that doesn’t legitimise you to do terrible things in the name of it. It’s not okay to hurt others because you’re right. It’s not okay to ignore human rights because you’re right. It’s not okay to step on people on the way to your goal because you’re right. But another big problem I have with that statement is that we can’t apply that statement in this world, because in the vast majority of cases we can’t know we’re right. We think we’re right. We have our opinions on what’s right. But we usually can’t know we are right, and the last thing ads should be doing is stoking our natural inclination to assume that we’re right and stop examining ourselves.

I say this as someone who’s been right about some things (in my world, at least, it’s possible to know), and thought I was right about others. Both of these things led me to act pretty awfully.

Of course, I may not be right on this either. But that’s what I believe, currently.

Sorry, the name field can only contain the characters {A-Z, a-z, space}.

This is an interesting article.

The people this was linked from are arguing it constitues discrimination against rap culture, but what I see here is actually primarily another type of discrimination– that against names, particularly chosen names, that step too far outside society’s conception of what a name should be. I’m willing to bet that if the Times ran an article on, say, fanfic writers, or MMORPGers, or some other group that primarily goes by “handles” that don’t pass as names in this current culture, it would exhibit the same problem; I very much doubt “Raging Blizzard” would be given the title “Mr. Blizzard” (although I think that particular part of the article is a little naive; most multi-word handles, and, I believe, rapper names, are meant to be short phrases, not sets comprising a given name and surname that fit the “Mr./Ms. X” pattern very easily, and perhaps we need an entire other methodology to deal with this style of name. I see more of a problem in the fact that these people are not allowed to forget their birth names, honestly).

So as participants in a culture where handles and other non-standard names abound, what do you think of this article? I personally feel that a name is a name, whether it falls into a standard “given name + optional middle name(s) + surname”, or “surname + given name”, pattern or not, whether it has numbers in it or not. whether it has random capitalisation in the middle or not. I wouldn’t personally ever pick a name like FluffyCloud32 to represent myself, but if you would, and it has meaning to you, then I feel you should be allowed to have it. Any less would be to deny you a very fundamental, very basic part of your identity, and what surely should be considered a basic human right: the right to be called what you please, the right to have your chosen tag or descriptor, and no one else’s, appended to your identity.

A question of privilege.

So this may be an unnecessarily hair-splitting case of semantics, but I’ve been thinking recently about the way the word “privilege” is used in various activist circles– white privilege, male privilege, et cetera. And– particularly when it’s described in terms such as “privilege you haven’t earned” and “holding onto your privilege”– I find it an odd choice of word. I’ve read various “privilege lists”, like this list of male privileges, and I don’t happen to think that most of those things are “unearned privileges”, things that we shouldn’t have; they are rights that everyone should have. It isn’t a “privilege” to not have it thought that you only got your job because of your sex, to not have your personal failings attributed to your sex as a whole, to not be expected by society to follow an elaborate grooming regimen or else be shunned, to not have to fear walking alone in the dark. It is surely, rather, that women are underprivileged by the fact that society does not allow them these things by default.

Maybe it’s just me, but the use of the word “privilege” seems to say, “you shouldn’t have these things”, when the problem is not that some people have them, it’s that some people don’t. I do agree with the term where it’s used to denote things that one social group has at the expense of another social group; for example, it is unfair privilege that male characters are the heroes of most children’s stories, as men are often actively being chosen at the expense of women, and to make things fairer would require that proportionally fewer stories feature men. That is certainly a case of one group being favoured. But isn’t it more often the case that the oppressed group is disfavoured, seen as somehow deserving of fewer rights, fewer protections, than we would give to what this society considers the “benchmark of the average human being”: the white, heterosexual male?

I just see a lot of people instinctively railing at the “privilege” label, and since the same concept can be conveyed, in my opinion more accurately and without any loss of information, by saying “women are underprivileged” and listing what society’s unfair standards with regards to women are (e.g. “I do have to fear walking alone at night”), I wonder if it might not defuse potential derailings of topics, and give a clearer perspective of what’s really going on, to say that instead. “Privilege” to me feels like an obfuscating word, a word that doesn’t really get at what the problem is but just comes off as taking the opportunity to yell at the people who have the things you don’t. And while I can understand anger, it’s not the most productive thing ever, especially if it’s detracting from the real issue: women lack the security and fair treatment they should have in this society.

Only tangentially related, but is it only me who actually cringes and turns away at provocative exploitation of what’s been termed “male gaze”, such as the gratuitous underwear shot in the second image on that page? Do others find that sort of thing (whether using male or female body parts) actively attractive? I hold no criticism of those who do– I’m merely curious– but it personally makes me feel like I’m being made by the direction of the images into someone whose gaze is predatory and exploitative, and that makes me deeply uncomfortable. I don’t want to look at people that way, whether male or female, and when I’m forced to– because the provocative parts of someone’s body are all that’s in the shot– I become squeamish. (I also have a huge problem with shots that show the character’s chest and torso but not their face; objectification much? Final Fantasy X was unfortunately quite bad with this.)

Narrative, and why “it’s okay to be gay” is sometimes a counterproductive plot.

The other day I found myself looking for children’s books dealing with non-traditional families on Amazon; at first I was simply curious as to what was out there, wondering how things had improved, if at all, since Heather Has Two Mommies, but the more I read the more I really wanted more of these books to get into the hands of children, and saved several titles for possible later purchase and surreptitious Bookcrossing. Among them, if you’re curious, were The Different Dragon (which sounds like an absolutely wonderful story in general; who wouldn’t have wanted, as a child, a story that told them “people think dragons are supposed to be mean and aggressive, but sometimes they just want to be nice, and that’s a good thing”? It seems like it sends a lovely message about stereotypes, individuality, cruelty as “acceptable” versus gentleheartedness as “wimpy” and maladaptive, and, of course, dragons.) and Uncle Bobby’s Wedding.

I picked these two for a specific reason, one that struck me as an important criterion while searching through the available books: they present the non-standard families as incidental, rather than the focus being on the gay or lesbian family and how most people think they’re “strange” but it’s eventually revealed that it’s okay to be different. While I think this message may be valid and useful in some contexts– I think it’s positive, as in the case of The Different Dragon, to tell children “some people might expect you to be tough and strong, but it’s really actually fine if you’re not and you shouldn’t feel social pressure to be so”– I think that GLBTBBQ literature for children runs the risk of overdoing it to the point where a child might feel, “wait, you keep saying it’s okay but it also definitely seems like it’s strange and a lot of people don’t like it; this is kind of discomforting”. I’m trying to put my finger on the difference between the two, and I think it’s that if a child is capable of taking away the message that X thing is okay without a demonstration that a lot of people don’t think it is, then there shouldn’t be such a demonstration. If you just portray a character who’s gentle and kind and liked by others for being so in a young children’s book, children might not take away the message that it’s okay to be gentle and kind– it’s too subtle for them– and they probably won’t feel too comforted when those who think they’re weak for it bully them. But if a book shows that a character has two mommies, that’s all it needs to do; you don’t need to point out to the child that having two mommies is non-standard. If other kids in the playground say “having two mommies is weird”, the child will think back to the book, where it seemed normal enough. I suppose it’s the difference between a character trait, which a child is less likely to pick up on, and a physical difference that is very obvious; two mommies are obviously two mommies and not a mommy and daddy, but a young child might not be able to grasp the concept of “this character is gentle, and therefore it’s okay to be” without some context.

Anyway, my ultimate feeling on this is that framing a behaviour or lifestyle you want a child to think is okay as “abnormal but still okay” should be avoided where possible. And I tend to dislike seeing it in adult literature, too, partly because the “everyone hates us because we’re female/gay/etc.” story has been done so many times before, and partly because in these stories, the marginalised group is still marginalised, at least at the beginning. And I don’t know about you, but I really prefer to read stories where the groups I’m part of are accepted and normative than ones that re-represent the struggle we’ve already gone through to be recognised; if I’m part of a group that’s misunderstood, I already know that we’re misunderstood, have already heard the story and been upset by it, and would prefer to explore different options and possibilities rather than retreading what I already know is true (usually followed by Marginalised Group A becoming non-marginalised, but only at the expense of the Oppressor group and a lot of “we told you so!” crowing, or worse). This sort of fantasy is probably cathartic for some people, but I really don’t enjoy the sort of vicarious vengeful smugness we’re supposed to take from it, and I think it engenders a backlash response that I don’t think is any more useful than the original prejudice. I’d rather explore completely different solutions to the problem, or imagine worlds where the problem doesn’t exist and see what we can learn from those to apply to our own situation.

(I also want to say that I feel it’s more female-positive to write about a society where gender is treated as incidental than to write about one where the undervalued female class must wage war, but I admit that I don’t really have the right to define what counts as “female-positive”. I would like your thoughts on the matter, though.)