Can’t We All Agree to Just Not F*@king Touch Each Other?

Everyone’s seen the headlines by now. Grabby grandpa Joe Biden is in trouble for making a growing list of women feel uncomfortable with his unhinged displays of physical affection. A few months back it was Neil DeGrasse Tyson, excoriated in the social media-sphere for getting too goddamn handsy with colleagues and coworkers.

From my understanding, none of the offending events was sufficient to land Biden or Tyson a ticket to Cosby-Weinstein Island, a place populated by vile degenerates with no place in civil society. But neither does that make all this wild touching of strangers okay.

It’s a simple fact that there is a wide spectrum of human behavior, one dimension of which is introversion-extroversion. You could probably even chart it out on something like a normal curve. The fat middle bit would be populated by regular folks who like spending time with their fellow humans but also occasionally feel beset by social obligations.

Then you have the long tails.

Somewhere out there lives a haunted creature, trembling before the omnipresent threat of another human’s gaze. This is the consummate introvert, living alone on the far tip of the left tail of the distribution. Somewhere else strides a bloviating attention magnet that will crumple up and blow away if folks stop looking at it. Here we see the zenith of friendly, outgoing confidence. This cacophonous monstrosity stands proudly astride the very tip of the right tail, eager to ruin your day with a pat on the back.

In an ideal universe, these two creatures would be kept separate, never the twain shall meet. Alas, reality just isn’t that simple. Humans are social creatures—even the most dedicated introverts sometimes have to suffer the sights and sounds of their fellow primates.

But in this cruel reality, it should be recognized that introversion—though a strange and often debilitating curiosity—is rarely an imposition on others. Extroversion, however—particularly of the grabbier varieties—can be and often is.

Putting aside important questions about what is and is not appropriate when two people with different genitals interact (no one knows how these interactions should be carried out and probably no one ever will) it seems reasonable enough to suggest that it is never, ever appropriate for someone very comfortable with human touch to assume anyone else shares that proclivity.

Extreme extroverts need to pause in executing that friendly hug or encouraging shoulder rub and ask themselves a simple question: “Does this person actually want to be touched?” From there, it’s a simple step to recognize the answer is, always, eternally and universally, “no.”

Think of the progress that flows from this realization. All at once, we have a cultural norm that prohibits lecherous, orange-faced buffoons who somehow stumble into high political office from assaulting women. Meanwhile, the well-meaning gregarious—who maybe really just want to say “hello” or “thanks” or “go get em, tiger”—are sharply discouraged from putting their hands on politely smiling strangers.

All of which is to say:

If you aren’t a member of someone’s immediate family or loading them into the back of an ambulance, don’t fucking touch them.

 

Jeffrey Guhin was Absolutely Right About Neil deGrasse Tyson and Absolutely Wrong About Science

Writing rebuttals to the random thoughts that emerge from Neil deGrasse Tyson’s twitter feed has become something of a cottage industry of late. He appears to make a game of trying to cram profundity into 140 characters. The results might be generously described as mixed. His most recent misfire came in the form of a proposal to build a virtual nation called “Rationalia”, where all policy decisions are adjudicated by evidence.

In response, sociologist Jeffrey Guhin entered the ‘rebut Tyson’s twitter feed’ industry with a perversely ill-conceived takedown. The flaws with Tyson’s reasoning are rather elementary and simple to articulate. Brass tacks, a nation in which policy was dictated by the weight of evidence wouldn’t be able to make much policy. While it’s hard to think of an issue where evidence is entirely immaterial, there are plenty of issues where the weight of that evidence is far less than decisive. Choices about what kinds of policy to enact on issues like abortion, capital punishment, and resource redistribution can and should be informed by evidence, but they are ultimately decided by the ceaseless competition among changing value systems.

It’s clear that Guhin has some sense of this, but instead of driving the point home, he turns to an attack on the entire process of scientific discovery and the veracity of the results it yields.  In doing so, he reveals an embarrassing misunderstanding of the way science works and the reasons for which it is granted special credence as a knowledge-gaining activity. Indeed, it’s difficult to read Guhin’s piece without coming away with the impression that he literally does not understand science at all.

Guhin’s primary gripe with science seems to be that scientists are people and, like all other people, they are driven by irrational impulses and blinkered by unexamined prejudices. This is an extraordinarily mundane observation, but it has long provided fodder for assaults on science from people in across the “other ways of knowing” spectrum, from eastern spiritualists to vehement anti-vaxxers. In terms of originality and impact, it might fit somewhere between the observation that rocks tend to be hard and you’ll die if you don’t eat.

The fact that scientists can be just as biased and irrational as anyone else is precisely why science, as a process, eschews appeals to authority. General relativity isn’t considered a powerful scientific theory because the man who came up with it, Albert Einstein, was a well-respected scientist. It’s considered powerful because its predictions match observable reality with incredible precision. Other scientists checked Einstein’s work, making observations and performing experiments to test how closely it aligned with reality. Their results indicated that general relativity is an immensely successful explanatory framework.

This is the feature of science that Guhin really overlooks. Much of the rationality of science emerges from the structure of scientific communities. Guhin’s ignorance of this fundamental point suggests he spends more time cataloging the perceived moral infractions of science than actually thinking about how science works. Myriad researchers compete and cooperate with one another in the shared pursuit of new knowledge. Though any individual scientist might be blind to the flaws of her experimental methods or pet hypotheses, plenty of her peers will gladly assist her in uncovering every point of error. The community structure of science serves as a course-corrective for the subjective biases, irrationality, and dogmatism exhibited by any of its individual constituents.

So when Guhin points to social Darwinism and phrenology as scientific failures, he neglects to mention that their eventual dismissal is a clear indication that the process of scientific discovery works just fine. Those ideas fell out of favor because the cold arbitration of observable reality, in concert with the relentless scrutiny of peer review, found them wanting. Recognizing that they didn’t do any explanatory work, scientists cast those ideas aside, where they joined the colossal dust-heap of failed scientific ideas.

As Guhin rightly suggests, the history of science is, more than anything else, a story of failure. In the long run, most scientific ideas turn out to be wrong in some way or other. Many just need to be tweaked, but others are discarded outright. Usually the results are pretty innocuous. J.J. Becher’s phlogiston theory of combustion never hurt anybody, nor did Joseph Priestly’s recalcitrant defense of it.

Indeed, almost all of the failures Guhin seeks to cast as instances where science grossly violated the bounds of human ethics are really nothing of the sort. Hitler’s Third Reich and Stalinist Russia labored to present a veneer of scientific credibility, but never really exhibited anything of the sort. Both were expressions of state religion, where ideological fundamentalism and political fanaticism actively stifled scientific research and trampled many of the values most esteemed in science. Other sins Guhin tries to pin on science, like scientific Marxism, were dismissed decades ago because they were never really scientific in the first place.

It’s absolutely critical to remember that every time a scientific idea has turned out wrong, it has been a scientist or a community of scientists that discovered its faults. More importantly, in the quest to understand the nature of reality – to construct reliable explanations of how the real world actually functions – science is the only thing that has ever worked. Measured against its litany of failures, the halls of successful scientific explanations can seem rather sparsely populated. But science is also the only process capable of landing a robot on a comet and building enormously sophisticated pocket computers. It’s the only source to turn to when you want to explain the structure of the recurrent laryngeal nerve in a giraffe or pluck information about the origins of the cosmos from data on the temperature of empty space and the Doppler shift of distant galaxies. It’s the only method for identifying the causal linkages between patterns of global climate change and human behavior. It’s the only tool for uncovering the causes of diseases and successful methods for treating them. With the right kind of belligerent myopia, it’s easy forget that all these things are the product of science. Though it might only do so rarely, science is literally the only method for uncovering truths that transcend the boundaries of language and culture.

Given all this, it might be possible to see a nugget of truth beneath Tyson’s otherwise unrefined suggestion. It points to a more modest claim: that in any decision-making process where scientific evidence can be brought to bear, that evidence absolutely should be granted special emphasis. It’s not that values don’t have a role to play. It’s that values independent of reason and evidence are a recipe for unmitigated disaster.

 

The Cosmos update has creationists clamoring for equal time. Do they deserve it? (spoiler: no)

Image

Creationist are in a huff about the presentation of accurate science on television. This should come as no surprise to absolutely anyone – religious fundamentalists seem to find little of greater offense than the presentation of factual information to the general public. Currently, creationisms most vocal blatherskites are complaining that Neil deGrasse Tyson is giving their perspective about the origins and nature of the universe short-shrift. To be absolutely fair, short-shrift is exactly what their beliefs deserve in any forum outside of a community college mythology class, but they’re making a fair amount of racket over the affair anyway. That point aside, over at Think Progress, Betsy Phillips has written a nice editorial arguing that the Cosmos series has given creationist claims plenty of attention. The problem is that creationist beliefs tend to crumble when subjected to the scrutiny of  a scientific lens.

All ways of knowing have foundational assumptions – for science, those assumptions are that the universe is an ultimately intelligible product of material (and therefore observable) phenomena, that the only way to derive knowledge about the universe is through the rational analysis of empirical evidence, and that all knowledge about how the universe works is provisional.

Perhaps the best point about why creationism isn’t science and why creationists can’t (usually) do science (well) is the nature of their a priori assumptions. Their starting point is one of unshakable certainty – that the universe is the way it is because god made it that way. This is not a hypothesis set for testing. It is an irrefutable truth. No new fact will change the creationist’s mind. Unfortunately, the very notion of god does not exist independently of religious beliefs. The particular form it takes is the product of historical contingency. There is no set of observations about the world that, absent extant religious doctrine, would lead one to justifiably infer the existence of divine action. Claims to the contrary typically take the form of “phenomena A is complex or as yet unexplained by science, therefore god must have done it.” It is a way of saying, “I can’t fathom how the world could differ from the way I believe it to be – the way I believe the world to be must be accurate.”

The seriousness of creationist claims to scientific merit is further undermined by their stubborn refusal to modify their position in light of empirical evidence. It’s not just a matter of their argument being logically fallacious (though it certainly is that) – it’s a matter of their argument being scientifically untenable. The Bible is littered with very specific claims about the nature of god and his workings. Where empirically tractable, these purportedly factual claims have been routinely falsified. A 6,000 year old earth? Wrong. A great, world-swamping flood? False. A species founded by two individuals and subsequent generations of hardcore incest? Both wrong and gross. Phenotypic differences in skin pigmentation are the arbitrary dispensation of a petty cosmic prick, rather than an adaptation to differential exposure to UV light? False and racist. All languages appeared suddenly and are necessarily unrelated? Untrue and ridiculous. Creationists willingly ignore all of this and stubbornly persist in their beliefs anyway. That’s hardly a scientific outlook.

Brass tacks, it’s not worth taking creationists to task on the abject absurdity of their beliefs. The point here is not to disprove their ideas. They wouldn’t even worth seriously entertaining if it weren’t for the fact that their (rather pronounced) persistence is so deleterious to the successful function of a free and just society. This year alone, tax payers will fork out nearly $1 billion dollars paying to teach creationist hokum to impressionable youths. This is not only illegal, it is ethically abominable.

Image

The ultimate point here is to highlight the fact that creationist beliefs are not, in any conceivable sense, scientific. Rather, they are the objectively non-scientific byproducts of the crude exigencies of Western history. A batch of bizarre superstitions that, god willing (wink, wink), will one day be relegated to some humanities dustbin with Enki, Zeus, Odin, and the pantheon of dead deities. They may be deserving of equal time in a mythology class, but in a science class they aren’t even worthy of mention. The fact that some people think otherwise is one of the greatest embarrassments of the modern world.

 

Image