Personal Breakthroughs for 600, Alex

I've just had an epiphany--an epiphany about myself. (Incidentally, this is one of my essential characteristics of a critical thinker--the ability to continually discover new things about oneself.) Throughout high school and college, I received several Bs. Each time, as one would expect from an ordinarily straight-A student, I decided on a reason for the B--in order to internalize and deal with the situation, and thus move on from my perceived failure. I offer a list of the Bs that stand out in my mind, with accompanying reasons for their existence.

Chemistry (High School): I'm bad at science.
Pre-Calculus (High School): I'm two years ahead in math.
Gender and Society (College): I skipped some classes that resulted in missed quizzes, and I didn't like the professor.
History 105 (College): I never went to class.
Forensic Science (College): I'm bad at science.
Linguistics (College): Lingustics is hard, and I'm not really interested in it.
Anatomy and Physiology (College): I'm bad at science.

Notice any patterns there?

With the exception of any "I'm bad at science" answer, every reason on that list is completely valid. I was indeed two years ahead in math; I did indeed never go to class; Linguistics is indeed hard and uninteresting (to me, anyway). In retrospect, I got a B in forensic science because the course was heavy on entomology, which I am decidedly not interested in. I got a B in Anatomy and Physiology because the course was heavy on physiology, and I hadn't taken a basic biology course in about 5 years, and hence was rusty on central topics like cell function and replication, enzymes, the like. Straight-A students are monsters in that they expect to consistently excel; when I got a B--a B, for chrissake!--I assumed I was bad at something.

Except, not always. I didn't assume I was bad at math when I got a B in pre-calc; I rightly recognized that I was in an advanced course and so found it a bit challenging. I didn't assume I was bad at gender studies when I got a B in it; I rightly recognized that I didn't like the professor, and so skipped class as as well as failed to give the course the time and attention I should have. I just kind of blew it off. But these are things I've always known I'm good at; I've always been good at math, and since I usually got As in my major, I knew I wasn't bad at anthropology, just didn't care about Gender and Society. I also didn't decide I was bad at anthropology just because Linguistics is hard; I didn't dismiss an entire field just because one piece of it was hard for me.

So. Why do I think I'm bad at science? I'm clearly not. I did exceptionally well in classes on things like evolution, human biological diversity, research-oriented statistics,  and archaeology--all clearly science-based topics. As an anthropologist, I have regularly excelled in an field that relies on scientific methods to explore cultural and societal issues. Now, if I were really bad at science--the fucking foundation of most of the things I'm good at--how could I possibly be good at anthropology?

I can think of two possible reasons.

1. We did a lot more of everything else besides science when I was homeschooled; it was more a function of a homeschool environment lacking equipment rather than because my mom is a bad teacher or doesn't know anything about science. When I started public school, I had less of a science foundation than most of my peers; consequently, I may not have excelled as easily at science as I did in other subjects, leading to the belief that I was naturally less adept.
2. My culture tells me women are bad at science.

Both, maybe?

My point is, I'm not bad at science. I am currently a scientist, and I'm damn good at it. I decided against forensic anthropology because I thought I'd be bad at it, but I probably shouldn't have. Getting lost in an entomology class doesn't mean I can't be a forensic anthropologist; getting a B in Anatomy and Physiology because I lacked a solid cellular biology foundation doesn't mean I'm bad at physical science. Even if I'd taken an actual forensic anthropology course and gotten a B, all it would have meant was that I'd have to work a little bit harder at forensic anthropology than I had to at, say, the trigonometry course in which I earned roughly a 99% and learned absolutely nothing.

Intelligent Design and why it's lame-o

In May, I went on a road trip with my family. It was fun, and yet somehow I ended up standing in Yosemite National Park, drying dishes after breakfast, arguing with my parents over whether or not Intelligent Design should be taught in universities. My dad strongly believes in ID, and feels it should be given equal time alongside evolution. My mom doesn't really care (she believes evolution isn't necessarily driven by God, but was created by God to function the way it does), but feels it should at least be presented as an alternative theory--if not in the science curriculum, perhaps as philosophy.

These arguments stymied me--at the time. They appear perfectly rational, right? Consideration, that's all we want! Present the ideas and let the college students decide for themselves; we're not talking about intellectually malleable elementary school children here. Perfectly reasonable. Right?

As I say, at the time, I was stumped. I had a visceral reaction to the idea, but couldn't frame it in a way that my parents would accept or even entertain. Indeed, I couldn't even frame it to myself, apart from that ID is wrong.

At the time, all I could think of for the "ID is just plain wrong" position was a lack of evidence for it. But in order to successfully state my position to my parents, I needed positive evidence for its factual incorrectness, not just a lack of evidence to support factual correctness. And I had none.

See, I'm not in the habit of considering Intelligent Design as a viable option; I discarded it long ago and promptly banished it from my head, making room for more worthwhile thoughts.

After some searching in the dusty, secret corners of my brain, I found it--evolution isn't "intelligent" in the slightest. If there really is some entity with their finger in the world, whether they're actively involved or just "created the process", then that entity by no means fits into the definition of any god worth devoting one's entire life to.

No, this god is pretty fucking stupid. This god relies on trial and error to get its "creations" to the point where they function on any level whatsoever. We are subject to horrific, naturally-occurring deformities--kids born without faces, to name just one.

You can say that god doesn't prevent suffering--for whatever reason--but why create it that blatantly? Why design a system that inherently results in suffering for those creatures you pretend to love the most? For that matter, why are animals, who supposedly have no awareness of their creator*, subject to the same set of birth defects and suffering? It's pointless for them; they can't grow spiritually, offer suffering to god in atonement for sins, or any of the other reasons my mom gave me for human suffering. Pointless suffering, knowingly inflicted by someone who should know better, is just cruelty.

"It is contrary to human dignity to cause animals to suffer or die needlessly."**

Contrary to human dignity, to be sure--but not, apparently, to godly dignity.

And so, I am supposed to believe that this system was designed by an all-powerful entity who could have, if he'd wanted to, designed it in such a way that his creations would not have to suffer as a result of his design--but he did not?

If your god exists, and is as kind as you say he is, Intelligent Design would be an example of idiocy and cruelty--not intelligence.

*Catechism of the Catholic Church, Paragraph 356

**Catechism of the Catholic Church, Paragraph 2418

In Which I Mercilessly Dismantle Sam Schulman’s “Knowledge” Of Kinship, Laughing All The While

This is a response to Sam Schulman's "The Worst Thing About Gay Marriage". I won't post a link, but fear not; google will show you the way. 

In order for an argument to hold water, you must first accept the basic premises. In this case, firstly, that we have a rigid kinship structure; and secondly, that this rigid kinship structure must be preserved. I am completely ignoring the issue of whether or not marriage does indeed fulfill the functions laid out by Mr. Schulman, because that portion of the argument is completely irrelevant. His assumptions are faulty; there is no need to consider arguments supporting a faulty assumption.

Besides, I’m pretty sure a lot of people have already torn his article apart on those grounds.

But back to my issues. To begin with, the idea of a rigid kinship structure is laughable. Clearly, this person has no idea what kinship actually means.

Kinship, like all cultural traits, is fluid. This fluid nature is harder to see when you only examine a short period of time in the history of a culture, but it is always there. Do you really suppose that the Yanomamo came into existence using ebene? This notion ignores the process of cultural evolution; it's possible that we can define the moment they became Yanomamo as the period when they began practicing the use of ebene, but it's absurd to propose that they've "always been that way". Nobody has "always" been anything.

Unless you’re a Creationist, of course. If that is the case, you might as well stop reading right now, because 1) you’re going to get annoyed with me, and 2) you are obviously unequipped to grapple with the basic rules of logic and reading this is a waste of your time.

Culture, like "nature", is continually in flux. There is no end goal; no set purpose; no state to which we are moving. Understanding of this concept has fallen into shadow with the advent of our own particular culture, as we have developed the cultural trait of seeking the "best" way to do things; but in reality, there is no such thing as “best”. Just the fact that I can point out our desire to do things "right" proves my point; have humans "always" tried to things “right”? Of course not. The Yanomamo do not run up to the U.S. and attempt to get us to use ebene. Neither do they attempt to coerce neighboring villages into joining theirs; on the contrary, historically, Yanomamo societies are more likely to split than merge. (Chagnon 82)

Because, for example, our technology trends toward faster, smaller, and more efficient, we feel that our society is also trending upwards. I will not offer a commentary on whether we are trending upwards or downwards, because to me, the issue is moot. We’re not trending up or down—but we are trending in a direction. And that direction is change—just change. Undeniably, the United States has changed radically since its inception; but there is no reason to suppose that today we are inherently better than we were on May 27, 1809. To be sure, our society had ills at that time that we have since attempted to erase, but again, there is no reason to suppose that we are “better”. We are merely different.

Our laws make more sense now; that’s all. Laws shape a society as often as they reflect it; quite frequently, a law is enacted that does not reflect the society as it is, but how [enough] people wish it to be. And it takes time for the attitudes to catch up with the laws; we don’t consider black people to be property anymore, but that doesn’t mean every individual in the U.S. is free of racism. The longer we live in a society that prohibits slavery, the more we come to collectively agree on the immorality of racial discrimination. It’s a simple, observable fact.

And so, who are you to choose an arbitrary point in our cultural history and claim it as the best? On May 27, 1809, plenty of people thought we were already the best we could possibly be. Think about that.

The plain and simple fact is that if you consider a kinship system to be so glorious that it can and should resist evolutionary (in a societal sense) pressures, you have disregarded the fluid nature of culture and placed that particular system as the end result of cultural change. Which just means that all cultures are striving to be like yours.

Do you recall the “Great Chain of Being”? The Great Chain of Being placed squirrels above insects; dogs above squirrels; dark-skinned humans above dogs; light-skinned humans above dark-skinned humans; angels above light-skinned humans; God above angels. The Chain placed creatures in this manner as a reflection of how God had ordered his creation; the position of dark-skinned humans below light-skinned ones allowed the white Europeans to consider their African peers as subhuman.

You may laugh at the ignorant people who made the Great Chain of Being, and well you should—but if you laugh unfettered, unmindful of your hypocrisy, perhaps you should go back to the beginning and read every word of this over again.



Works Cited:

Chagnon, Napoleon A. Yanomamo. 5th edition; 1997.

My degree (in anthropology).

Everyone's a doctor--er, anthropologist

I feel called to congratulate 52% of the state of California on their admirable accomplishment; they have succeeded, in just one round of Mormon-funded voting, where anthropologists have failed time and again. They have 1) defined Marriage [the capital M is intentional]; and 2) decided that a one-woman, one-man union is essential to a culture’s survival. Well done, you! I expect the anthropologists who have dedicated their lives to the study of marriage and have yet to agree on a universal [yet utile] definition shall ring you presently to bask in your infinite wisdom.

I do not claim to be an expert on culture; I doubt you could find anyone who does. I freely admit that I hold only a bachelor’s degree in anthropology, but lacking any evidence that the majority of Americans have any knowledge of cultures beyond our own (and this is written in the simple fact that most Americans still use the term “primitive” to describe cultures that do not engage in totalitarian agriculture or live in vast cities), I think we can assume I’m more of an expert than they are.

George Peter Murdock defined marriage as such: Marriage “exists only when the economic and the sexual [functions] are united into one relationship.” But what about the Nayar? In the 19th century, the Nayar lived in India; a woman had to have at least two husband, a ritual husband and one or more visiting husbands, none of which contributed any material support to the woman and her children. And so Kathleen E. Gough, an anthropologist studying the Nayar, gave this definition: “a relationship established between a woman and one or more other persons, which provides that a child born to the woman under circumstances not prohibited by the rules of the relationship is accorded full birth-status rights common to normal members of his [or her] society or social stratum.” This allows the definition to include other rare and rather complicated kinds of marriages, such as biologically female-female marriages that are socially defined as male-female and do not include a sexual component—which, as of the 1970s, made up 3% of all marriages in the Nandi of Kenya. And yet, Gough’s definition excludes the male-male marriages of the Cheyenne Indians in the 1800s, and ghost marriages of many cultures including Taiwan. (Pasternak 82-84)

Where do your “traditions” fall?

Oh, I see; you’re just talking about our culture. After all, we’re special; we answer to a higher power; we’re “civilized”. Perhaps you should read my next post.

Note: Statistically, I believe the most common marriage arrangement is indeed male-female. But most cultures have situations in which a different arrangement occurs—and in no instance are those different arrangements considered “deviant” or “outside the norm”. They are simply different, and still within the boundaries of their culture—or else they would not exist, and not by virtue of illegality. When did we start believing “minority” = “deviant”?

If you would like to know more about any of these topics, please let me know. I was intentionally brief to avoid rambling.

Works Cited:
Pasternak, Burton, Carol R. Ember, and Melvin Ember. Sex, Gender, and Kinship: A Cross-Cultural Perspective. 1997.