Life on the Inside

So there's an interesting article on The Atlantic about how common notions of masculinity are stifling. Like the others that I've read, it's written by a woman. There's no real problem with that, as many women are excellent writers. Every so often I come across a critique of masculinity from a transgender man. But what seems missing from the materials, at least the ones that I've read, is a critique of what it's like to be a man, written by someone who's always lived it. I presume that they're out there, and that some work on my Google-Fu would turn up one or a hundred of them, but they seems to be missing from the media outlets that I typically read. My working theory is that I don't spend time on feminist media; maybe that's where the action is. I don't know whether or not that's accurate, but it makes sense to me because so much of the discussion seems to center on the gender/sex relations aspect of the whole thing.

In my own understanding, masculinity as a fortress that kept women out is falling by the wayside. It's not completely dead, and it may never be, but it's not as powerful and idea as it used to be. But, at least in my own understanding, it's still a prison that keeps men in. And while I'm not really a fan of that, in the end, I don't mind the life of an inmate. In other words, I more or less conform to a fairly broad notion of what it means to be "a man," even if I've taken a pass on drinking beer, watching football or driving pickup trucks. I'm perhaps more in touch with a nurturing side of myself than fits the general stereotype; after all, I was a psychology major in college, and I spent four and half years as a child care worker, a profession where being nurturing was a necessary skill. But I don't think of myself as being anywhere near as tuned into to people's emotional states as women are typically described as, and listening to someone talk about a problem, rather than rushing in with a fix, takes effort on my part.

I'm fortunate, I think, in that I don't move in circles where really strong gender-role expectations in either direction are the order of the day. While I've never been very invested in proving that I can out-man anyone, I do have a bad habit of not backing down from challenges; which can be a problem in and of itself. Likewise, I don't have to prove to anyone how non-conformist I am, which is also nice. If settling into a comfortable, but conforming, role is like living in a small town, I'm the person who genuinely likes it there, and somewhat resents the more well-traveled calling them out for their lack of broader experience.

But by the same token, I feel that I honestly do understand that masculinity can be a prison, and so while I may be perfectly content to hang around within the walls, I get that it's not for everyone, and I'm perfectly happy to assist other people in jailbreaks. As long as they're okay with me waving goodby to them from the walls.

The Plan

The post was titled, simply enough, "10 Steps." And the eponymous steps were as follows:

1. Invoke a terrifying internal and external enemy
2. Create a gulag
3. Develop a thug caste
4. Set up an internal surveillance system
5. Harass citizens' groups
6. Engage in arbitrary detention and release
7. Target key individuals
8. Control the press
9. Dissent equals treason
10. Suspend the rule of law

10 is, of course, an arbitrary number. It's possible to make a slide into "things being bad" into any number of steps one chooses. Decompose a step or two here, consolidate a few there, and it's fairly simple to create any number of steps one wants. Even the order is somewhat arbitrary. But only somewhat. Because it's likely, and I think that history bears this out, that the first step always deals with fear.

"10 Steps" makes this seem as if there is an external entity, whether that be a person or an organization, plotting out how they are going to take over and seize power for themselves. But the fact of the matter is that this process repeats itself over and over, just as a matter of everyday life. Any group of people with something to fear has a chance of starting down this road, and taking the process as far as their collective powers will allow.

Which may seem disheartening, but it points to the idea that there is a straightforward, if not easy, way to disrupt things.

1. Relieve people of their fear.

But that requires something difficult. And that is: disinvestment in others' fears. And it's difficult because coming to see the fear of others as an asset may be simply part of human nature. People value allies, and fears can be powerful allies. And to the person who views the fear of others as a benefit to themselves the disappearance of that fear can be a tangible loss, no different than a loss of another's goodwill can be seen as damaging. And from there it's only a short step to seeing someone who does something to help other people assuage their fears as an opponent.

Sometimes, though, the best way to deal with an opponent is to beat them to the punch.

In the 10 Step program, Step One concerns itself with amping up people's fears to the point where Steps Two through Ten seem like reasonable, or even necessary, means to calm those fears. Which is why it's the starting point. But it's also a single point of failure, because undermining Step One removes the need for whatever follows. It speaks to the depth of the investment in fear that people won't do more to eradicate it.

Embodying Change

The recent suicide of designer Kate Spade prompted Ivanka Trump to offer the usual platitudes. Which in turn prompted a critic to dismiss her statement as just words, citing reductions in the federal budget for mental health services.

For the record: Pot. Kettle. Black. It's all words, and no one is saved by them.

"How," I asked myself, "does sniping at Mrs. Trump make anything better?" Given that government spending priorities are not set by consulting Twitter comments between the President's family and their random Internet critics, the comment came off as little more than anti-Trump virtue signalling. And, like most virtue signalling, it prompts others to feel good about the virtue being signaled, but doesn't actually move the needle. In case you haven't guessed, I'm much more in the "be the change you want to see in the world" camp. Being there for someone who is in crisis does much more to prevent suicide than whining to the President's children.

But here's the thing about trotting out "be the change you want to see in the world;" it presumes that they currently aren't. But what if they are? What if the way people act is precisely indicative of how they want the world to be going forward? It would explain a lot. And it makes sense in the broader context of human nature. Forging a relationship with another human being that is strong enough that when they are at a crisis point in their lives, one that becomes a literal life-or-death situation, is a lot of work. And that work has very real costs that, like many things, won't always seem to be worth it. And in the end, when that crisis point comes, it may not help.

Maybe, rather than pushing people to be the change they want, it would be better to ask them to be honest, with themselves and with us, about the change they want. When we look at the ways in which people interact with the world, it becomes more or less clear that many, if not most of them are in their comfort zones. In this instance, it's not that virtue signaling is easier than working to save lives; it's that a world in which people die, and the survivors preach their choirs about how others aren't doing enough is simply more desirable, for whatever the reason happens to be, than a world in which those "needless" deaths are prevented.

I understand that this is a fairly bleak and cynical viewpoint, even for me. (Ironically, I understand how my outlook on life {among other facets of my personality} puts me at increased risk for depression.) I'd like to say that I take no comfort in it, but that would be inaccurate, because I do take comfort in the idea that I understand the world around me; to the degree that I can, anyway, given the fog of my own experiences and perceptions.

But it doesn't take a clinician to understand that simply hating on Mrs. Trump isn't going to prevent the death of the next Mrs. Spade. I'm not sure that I can think of anyone who honestly thinks it does. Given this, there is an understanding that the time spent sniping at people for not being aligned with one politically is time not spent working to save someone's life; just as the time I spend on this blog is time not spent looking after the people in my own life who I understand are at risk. Yes, I understand that when push comes to shove, I have other priorities than the change I claim to want to see in the world; and I own that.

Perhaps I've simply come to believe that if people really wanted certain changes in the world, they'd be doing more to actively, and constructively, bring them about. Maybe I've fallen into the trap of not realizing that just because something seems clear to me, that this doesn't mean that it's true. It could be that I find people's actions so wrong-headed that this is the only possible explanation I can come up with. I don't know. But I do believe I know that it isn't a secret that what people are doing now isn't working. Unless, of course, it is.

Limited Interest

I was looking at a headline that showed the latest count of "false or misleading claims made by President Trump," and I found myself wondering: Who cares? Not in the sense that this something that people really don't care about, but in the literal sense. Of the people who encounter the statements the President Trump makes, which of them care whether or not they are factually accurate?

We live in a society that's built, in large part, on lying. Whether or not this is a good thing or a bad thing depends mostly on our understanding of the context surrounding a lie. Most of the people who seem to have difficulty with President Trump and his relationship (or lack thereof) with what they consider the truth tend to view him as someone who deceives others for his own benefit, or for the benefit of other people who deserve no such benefits. If, on the other hand, people don't care about the delta between presidential statements and the truth, they view it as being about making a greater point, or just unimportant.

And this, overall, seems to be a partisan viewpoint. Which is unsurprising. Partisans tend to have strong views about the world, and this creates a filter for information that allows two people to take the same set of information about the world and come to wildly different conclusions about what is happening and what should happen next.

The conclusion that I came to is that the people who care about the truth or falsity of President Trump's statements are mainly people who are virtue signalling; where "virtue" is defined as opposition to the President, his policies and, to a lesser extent (perhaps), his supporters. And that's unfortunate in that it perpetuates the "rooting for the other guy to fail" mentality that has lead the country to this point. But it's also perfectly understandable. No-one wants to be a chump, and giving the other side the benefit of the doubt has become a sure-fire way to be seen as one.

Mind the Step

Okay, here's the quick and dirty synopsis.

At some point in the past, college student Jane Roe alleges sexual misconduct on the part of college student Harry Poe to the Title IX office. Harry is found guilty and expelled from ROTC program, of which they are (or were) both members.

More recently, college student John Doe (also in ROTC) and Jane Doe have an alcohol-fueled one-night stand. John alleges sexual misconduct to the Title IX office, and Jane is found guilty and suspended from school until John graduates.

Jane sues, claiming that John and Harry are friends, and John's sexual misconduct complaint is actually an act of revenge against Jane for her complaint against Harry, and his subsequent punishment. "On information and belief, John Doe was motivated to file a Title IX Complaint in retaliation for a prior Title X Complaint Jane Roe had filed against his friend."

Following all that?

This is one of those things that falls into the bucket of "You can't make this stuff up," because if you did, you would likely run into accusations of attempting to undermine protections against sexual assault on campus, because it neatly encapsulates some serious problems with the way things work.

• Jane Roe alleges that John Doe is cynically abusing the system to punish her for complaining against Harry Poe. And the way the system is set up, this is plausible.
• It's also plausible that John Doe genuinely feels that Jane Doe is sexually predatory, and Jane is simply being held to the same standard that John would have been had she complained about him first.
• Jane's attorney, Josh Engel, says that it's unfair that if they were both drunk, and they both engaged in the sexual contact, that only Jane is being punished, citing Doe vs. University of Miami, which effectively says that if both students are inebriated, and therefore neither can consent to sexual activity, both students must be investigated for sexual misconduct against each other. (To take this silliness a bit further, I'm waiting for someone to be caught masturbating while under the influence and be investigated for sexual misconduct against themselves. It just doesn't seem as far-fetched anymore as it genuinely should.) Not that this argument, that a regime that says that "alcohol precludes consent" effectively means that two drunken students are effectively assaulting each other, hasn't been made before. But it tends to be countered rhetorically with common gender-role stereotyping and procedurally by the fact that the first complainant wins. The Sixth Circuit, however, says that this is a discriminatory lack of due process.
• Reason's Robby Soave, meanwhile, posits that John Doe's motive was to do unto Jane before Jane did unto him. Which makes sense, given that since both students were intoxicated, a finding that their (barely) sexual encounter was non-consensual was effectively a foregone conclusion; which meant that if Jane had gotten the jump on him, John would have been the one suspended until her graduation.

And the issue is, that while three of the proceeding four theories might fall into the category of unintended consequences, they're not unforeseen consequences. Whether the system is being intentionally abused or has just fallen into absurdity, these are outcomes that are perfectly predictable, as the process was very clearly set up to presume a certain level of both good faith and knowledge of intentions without taking any steps to ensure either of them. And while I understand the idea that an imperfect system may be a useful first step to solving a problem, the rest steps also have to be taken. And it seems that they're slow in coming, if they're in the pipeline at all.

This is not to say that the perfect should be the enemy of the good. Rather, that the deeply flawed should not be considered "good enough," and therefore, not in need of urgent improvements; especially when the flaws are understood from the outset. A system that cannot protect itself from either cynical manipulation or simple silliness is not good enough to be a workable solution to a problem. And it doesn't make sense to wait for it to fail to attempt improvements, especially given the understanding that the ease of abusing it can easily lead people to conclude, for whatever reason, that such abuse is, in fact, an intended consequence of the system.

Part of the issue is that a standard that says that regardless of any or all other factors, sexual activity with a student who is intoxicated is sexual misconduct. Not because I'm discounting the idea that plying someone with alcohol to lower their inhibitions and then claiming consent is reprehensible. But because it was, in part, designed to automate the system. It seeks to remove old biases and stereotypes by taking people out of the loop, while not being sophisticated enough to replicate human judgement in nuanced or edge cases. In this, it reminds me of the corporate sexual misconduct training that I've had to sit through when starting a new job. The situations put forward are so obvious that it's difficult to understand how anyone could possibly screw them up, and so I've never learned anything useful; because the intent seems to be to allow Human Resources to check a box that absolves the company of responsibility should I do anything criminal to another employee. It's not designed to help me understand where the line is, but to protect the company when they fire me for crossing it.

I don't know if many students perceive campus sexual misconduct rules in the same way. But they seem to have the same M.O. That should be an encouragement to take the further steps needed to improve them.