Hope from Paris: rebuilding trust

It has begun again: the age-old cycle of hate and counter-hate, self-justification and counter-justification, the grim joy of righteousness and revenge. In the U.S., conservative politicians play on it as demagogues always have, projecting strength and patriotism by refusing to take refugees from the lands terrorized by ISIS; my own governor, Chris Christie, tries to outdo his competition by arguing that even five-year-old orphans from Syria should be stopped and sent back, as if they are tainted by being from the same part of the world as the murderers. In France, anti-Muslim sentiment is said to be rising. Everywhere people want to shut down, to cling to people like themselves whom they can trust, to build walls against people unlike themselves.

We know some things about these cycles. We know with the  scientific confidence of good evidence and good theory, that they breed ever-deepening spirals of violence and hatred. ISIS draws its strength from the suspicion and mistrust of Muslims in the West, like a malignant antihero drawing energy from its enemy. It will only grow as our hostility spreads to millions of innocent people tarred with the broad brush of prejudice.

But ISIS is no hero to Muslims. The overwhelming majority among them, by all indications, abhor the attacks in Paris and the brutality of the movement. That is why millions are fleeing to our shores. ISIS can be defeated with ease, but only -- only -- if Muslims as a whole feel the West is a friend, feel we support their efforts to build better lives for their families.

Amid the heartbreak and terror, amid the recriminations and bombast, there is some reason for hope.

There has been a substantial outpouring of support for Muslims in Paris, on social media and in the streets - expressions of empathy, concern that they not be demonized. Messages of support have gone viral in social media. A New Yorker named Alex Malloy wrote on Facebook of getting a Muslim cab driver the day after the attacks who wept, from despair and fear that he would be labeled as one of “them”. Malloy’s response drew wide support:

“Please stop saying ‘Muslims’ are the problem because they are not and they are feeling more victimized and scared to the day. These are our brothers and sisters as humankind, we are all humans underneath this skin. And they deserve nothing more than our respect and attention. They need our protection. Please stop viewing these beautiful human beings as enemies because they are not.”

And a young Parisian wrote,

“This is not really about ISIS. ... This is about ignorance, insecurity, emotion. It’s about not understanding who other people are, what they want or how they feel.”

This reaction of empathy and understanding is extraordinary. In the past, only small pockets of cosmopolitan elites have been willing to reach out in this way to the “other”, beyond the tribe. But now the desire for understanding of others has spread widely, especially of the young who have grown up with the rich exchanges of the internet. It has, for perhaps the first time in history, extended far enough to become a credible counterweight to the ancient, and still strong, tendency to close ranks against an enemy.

ISIS itself will not enter into a dialogue of understanding, and it would be a delusion to act as if it were; there is a need for fighting. But we do need to understand and engage the vast Muslim population who hate ISIS but also feel disenfranchised in the West. For that, we need to avoid succumbing to the sweet temptations of tribal loyalty, the marching bands and self-congratulatory speeches. As great leaders like Abraham Lincoln well knew, fighting may be necessary but there can be no joy in it: we should empathize with our enemy even as we enter combat, so that when the opportunity for peace comes we know how to seize and build on it.

Meanwhile, we must from the instinct of self-preservation, as well as from the generosity of our best selves, reach out to Muslims wherever we can, welcome them, celebrate their desire for peace and good lives. Together we can clear the poisonous swamps where hatred breeds. We don’t want to get dragged into them ourselves.

Changing culture: the moral blunderbuss

My old high school has been in the news, and not in a good way. A young man was tried for the charge of raping a freshman girl, age 15, shortly before he was to graduate, on his way to Harvard. It seems he had asked this girl out as part of a school "tradition" called the "senior salute", which involves bedding as many underclass women as possible before graduation. It's not clear exactly what happened, but things clearly went over the line: they went into a utility closet, the girl  -- at a minimum -- felt violated.

The tradition is despicable. But is the boy despicable? He was just doing what was expected, indeed admired, by those around him. For that matter, the girl herself was caught in this powerful social web: she was flattered to be asked out, and in her own account didn't want to "rock the boat " or seem like a "drama queen" by reacting too strongly to his advances. Though I know little about the details, there is no reason to think that this is an evil boy, someone who enjoys hurting others. He appears to be, on the contrary, one who plays the game and wants to win - whether that game is getting into Harvard or sleeping with a virgin. Most of the time we applaud those who play to win.

This is a classic situation in which the rules are changing. The rules need to change, of course; but we also need to ask: what's the best way to change them?

The approach here was to pull out a moral blunderbuss: to treat act the act as a criminal violation, which carries the full weight of moral condemnation of the community. It would destroy the young man and serve as a dire warning to others who might be tempted in such a direction.

But doing it this way may only slow down the process of change. Instead of fostering learning, this approach fosters fear. Young men I know now, even the best of them, are confused and frightened and even angry; they feel that if they cross some line that they can't even see, they may be destroyed. They are not gaining respect for women; they are feeling like lab rats threatened by some mad scientist's random shocks.

The moral blunderbuss is a poor weapon. It doesn't destroy the bad beliefs it aims at. The true believers are infuriated, like a bear shot with an old rifle, and may turn viciously on the accusers. Many others - those who have gone along, just trying to find their way - grow defensive, cynical, and tend to withdraw from the fray. That describes a lot of our political scene today.

As it happens, the jury was unwilling to pull the trigger. They acquitted the accused of the most serious charge of rape, but convicted him on a lesser charge of enticing a minor on the internet. It seems they wanted to signal that something was seriously wrong here, but they didn't feel the kind of unmixed moral condemnation that would justify the most severe sentence. They found it a difficult case.

Perhaps this opens the path to something better. Everyone is talking about the problem now. On the school campus , the headmaster promises a combination and deepening of discussions about the issues. "When we first learned of these disturbing events", he writes, " ... we pledged that we would use this case and the issues raised by it to learn more about ourselves and to make our School better." 

Now it's a question of what kind of discussion there will be. If it is one-way hectoring and lecturing,  we know how kids -- and people of all ages -- react: they will shut down and withdraw. But if they have a chance to express and explore their confusions, to ask their questions in an atmosphere of thoughtful dialogue, such conversations may be able to tip the moral balance - so that the cool kids will have a code different from the "senior salute". And we may be able to minimize the collateral damage, the destruction of lives and communities, that accompanies unrestrained righteousness.

Water wars

There's a severe drought in Vancouver. All the grass lies brown and dead, except the golf courses. The dark pine forests crackle underfoot. The arboretum explains apologetically that its water is recirculated. Reservoirs are down to record lows.

This was startling to me, as an Easterner; I thought it rained all the time there - I packed my rain coat and pants first thing. And talking to a few people, it seems they're not ready for this. They're used to long showers and lush lawns. They don't know quite what to do.

You'd like to think that everyone would pull together and share what they can, decide together on the priorities, work out some way of dealing with the problem. But judging from other areas that have gone through this, the prospects aren't good. The first stage, which Vancouver may be starting now, is denial. The NY Times reported last Fall on Porterville, California, which has largely run out of water. A mother recounts that when her neighbors' wells began to run dry, she told her children to take shorter showers. “They kept saying, ‘No, no, Mama, you’re just too negative’”. Now they have no showers at all.

“You don’t think of water as privilege until you don’t have it anymore,” said Ms. Serrato, whose husband works in the nearby fields. “We were very proud of making a life here for ourselves, for raising children here. We never ever expected to live this way.”

I heard some of the same in Vancouver, about how some people were refusing to cut down on their showers and watering. It seems people don't want to face this problem till it hits them. Their lifestyle includes water, and they - like the Serratos - are proud of their lifestyles. Giving up their lawns is like an admission of failure.

It can get worse after that. Once the crisis hits, people often start to fight over what's left. We hear about wealthy Californians who fight against or ignore the water restrictions. Farmers who can afford it dig their wells deeper, drawing water away from their neighbors, as well as destabilizing the ground far beyond their own properties.

A typical Western water rights conversation

On the other hand: California does suggest some reason for hope.  While some responses have been short-sighted and unsustainable, others have involved significant changes in behaviors which may make a real long-term difference. Farmers, with government help, have been shifting to drip irrigation which has doubled the yields for given water volumes. This Spring the water district for Southern California beefed up a program to encourage the general public to cut back on their lawns and use drought-resistant plants. The astonishing thing is that people are embracing it in droves; the planted landscape is already being transformed. In an era where government incentives and regulations too often are ignored or manipulated or resisted -- think of Obamacare, or cash for clunkers -- these are unusual successes.

It’s hard to say why these things work when others don’t, but I would suggest two reasons. First, the shift in California has been building for decades. The irrigation programs have been gaining ground, as it were,  for many years, and have proved themselves economically; so farmers have grown generally more open to the idea of changing their practices around environmental issues.

The second reason is that the current crisis has “changed the conversation” -- a currently popular phrase. Changing the conversation means that people are talking about it.  In places that failed to deal with the problem, like Porterville, there was for a long time no conversation: the mother whose kids told her, “You’re just being too negative” were not aware that others in the community were already running out of water. No one talked about it, everyone thought it was just their own issue. But now, with the breadth and depth of this crisis, everyone in California is talking about it, everyone knows that the problem is real. And for changing behaviors, there is nothing more powerful than the sense that everyone else is doing it.

Perhaps those two factors are both needed: slow long-term adaptations, and a sudden crisis. A crisis by itself often just drives people to defensive postures, fighting against their neighbors. But when the conversation gets a chance to build, and everyone knows that everyone else is feeling the same things they are, there is a chance for cooperation. So getting the conversation going may be one of the most important activities.

Understanding the Klan

Daryl Davis, a Black musician. has taken it into his head to meet and argue with leading figures of the Ku Klux Klan. His book, Klan-destine Relationships, is a fairly amazing read. He meets with Roger Kelly, the Grand Dragon of one of the largest Klan factions, without revealing beforehand that he is Black. Kelly, though startled, invites him into his home, but there’s an armed man standing guard. They argue. Kelly explains his segregationist views; Davis attacks his assumptions. Though there is no epiphany, for some reason they agree to meet again, and then again. Eventually they form a sort of bond, still without any essential change in views. Davis talks Kelly into coming with him to apologize to a Black woman who has had a cross burned on her lawn. By the end of the book, the two are “close friends”, and Davis is godfather to Kelly’s child. But Kelly is still a Klan leader -- indeed has progressed to the title of  Imperial Wizard of the Invincible Empire Knights of the KKK. And Davis has befriended a dozen or so other Klansmen -- some in jail, some retired; none are fundamentally transformed.

What do we make of this? Many are horrified. A reviewer for Kirkus on Amazon writes:

“What never occurs to Davis is that he may be being used by these people.... Davis seems oblivious to Kelly's smooth way of talking out of both sides of his mouth.... Nowhere during these scenes does the author consider that his book might be the perfect vehicle by which Kelly can gain new members.

“The dual dangers of this book are that some readers will find tacit support for their beliefs that blacks are easily led and others will view the Klan as ‘not all that bad’ and perhaps join where they otherwise might not have.”

This reviewer believes you shouldn’t deal with bad people, those outside your moral circle -- you need to maintain a clear line between good and bad. This belief has animated most of human history. Its result is endless warfare. Since it fears and shuts off dialogue, its only practical conclusion is that the others must be destroyed, the stain of their evil wiped from the earth. But since that is rarely possible, and since they probably have the same attitude towards you, it produces cycles of merciless conflict.

Davis started from a more “enlightened” view, thinking he could use universal rationality to convince the other of the truth. But that didn’t work, either. Again and again -- and the book reports many conversations in detail -- he showed Klansmen that their views were logically inconsistent, incompatible with evidence, and generally failed all tests of rationality. They remained unmoved.

Yet both sides -- both Davis and the Klansmen -- apparently found it worthwhile to keep meeting, to keep talking, to deepen their relationship, despite the differences. Why?

Here’s Davis’ perspective, as expressed in a radio interview:

““The most important thing I learned is that when you are actively learning about someone else you are passively teaching them about yourself.”

This was a shift from where he started. He wasn’t trying to convince them any more. He was simply trying to understand, and to be understood. There is value in that. There is value, first, in that they don’t kill each other; some of the Klansmen, at least, did move towards less violent stances in their organizations, softened the rhetoric. They wanted to protect Davis, to keep him from being hurt as he attended Klan rallies and meetings. There is value, too, in that they do consider more deeply the views of their opponents -- not changing their deep philosophy, but much less willing to demonize and dehumanize. There is value in that they can sometimes walk together, as in the apology for the cross-burning.

And there’s some reciprocity: though Davis does not grow any less fierce in his defense of doctrines and people the Klan hates, he does tend to demonize the KKK members less, to see some good aspects. He agrees with them on some limited points such as a common opposition to drugs.

This infuriates the Kirkus reviewer: Davis, he rages, “endlessly makes excuses for Klan members who are no longer violent, as if this somehow mitigates their continued membership in such a terrorist organization.” He feels that any break in the wall is a threat.

But what’s the alternative? To kill Kelly? (He does have an armed guard, it should be noted.) Is it really likely that anyone is going to decide to join the Klan because Davis doesn’t ceaselessly attack them? Can one really imagine the Klan leader parading this book around as a recruiting tool? It would be much more likely that his members would attack him for befriending this Black guy, and that some might feel their simple black-and-white paradigm cracking a bit.

Davis suggests:

“...if you have an adversary with an opposing point of view, give that person a platform. Allow them to air that point of view, regardless of how extreme it may be. And believe me, I've heard things so extreme at these rallies they'll cut you to the bone.

“Give them a platform. ... And when you do things that way chances are they will reciprocate and give you a platform.”

People seem to want to be understood; they will put a lot of time and energy into it. At some level they find it valuable. It’s something to work from.

Christians and multiculturalists

Tim Tebow is a football player who openly expresses his Christian beliefs, and has thus become a polarizing figure -- beloved by Christians, often attacked by progressives, quite apart from his achievements on the field.

**************

Many people who identify themselves as Christians feel under siege. This poster is an expression of their sense that multicultural “political correctness” has become a cudgel to beat them into silence. Justice Alito, in the recent Supreme Court case on gay marriage, expresses the same basic fear that “Americans who are unwilling to assent to the new orthodoxy,” will be “vilified”,  driven to “whisper their thoughts in the recesses of their homes.”

I do not agree with the opponents of the Court's decision, but I think they have a point. On one hand, the public recognition of gay unions is, from the perspective of community and trust, a great step forward. It opens a new realm of relations, and makes it possible for more people to develop their full capacities as contributing members of society. This is part of broadening relations, essential in an increasingly complex society.

But many “progressives” in the cosmopolitan centers -- and I am one of them -- are not consistent in our embrace of multiculturalism: we don't include those with whom we disagree. We too easily associate Christianity with ignorance and  intolerance; we denigrate it, laugh at it. We celebrate the Supreme Court decision as a victory -- not just an advance, but a triumph over opponents who are (we think) stupid and out-of-date. stereotyping, Within our own circle, we unthinkingly lump all Tebow-supporters as a caricatural  bunch of intolerant boors. We engage in smirking exchanges with our own tribe - “See how foolish they are? See how wise we are?”

In that sense we do indeed preach a “new orthodoxy.” And to the extent that multiculturalism becomes orthodoxy, it perpetuates what it is trying to overcome.

The Court's decision is not a victory over regressive opponents, a win for our side: it is a chance to expand the dialogue and the range of human expression. When we treat it as a triumph in a battle, we diminish the whole process.

We should state clearly how a consistent multiculturalist point of view applies here:

1. Tebow, and those who support him, should not be expected to keep their beliefs to themselves, or to “whisper their thoughts in the recesses of their homes.”

2. If I see their beliefs as intolerant, we should talk about it.

3. If they see my beliefs as a new orthodoxy, we should talk about that.

4. We all need to accept both sides of the problem implied in the poster. If Jenner supporters should try to understand Tebow, then Tebow supporters should try to understand Jenner. Christians and multiculturalists, in their own circles, can be challenged to listen.

It’s not that this approach will lead magically to agreement. Some people believe at a very deep level in marriage as a union of male and female; a smaller number believe deeply that homosexuality is inherently sinful. They do not see themselves as bad, and they will fight with fury -- as would any of us -- against those who laugh at them or tell them they are morally wrong. They will not change their essential point of view, which is embedded in a complex web of philosophical, creedal, and historical perspectives.

We can, however, expect that consistent respect, true conversation, may enable us to better live together despite the divide, to work together, to walk together; to have some sympathy with each other even though we disagree; to have some care for each other despite the differences. That would help a great deal in healing our fractured society.

Forgiving racists

A strong line of argument in the Black community calls for more anger at the shootings in Charleston, and less forgiveness. (For example, Stacy Patton in the Washington Post, Roxane Gay in the New York Times).

Why refuse to forgive? What that does is to sharpen lines between communities, and thus increases the ability to fight. By refusing to forgive, you mobilize your own anger and that of your band. You assert your moral goodness along with the badness of your enemies. You feel good about yourself, and ready to act. If you’re going into battle, you certainly don’t want to forgive.

But this seems a particularly inopportune moment for such a position. This is a moment when an extraordinary number of Whites who have been hostile or ambivalent -- holding onto the Confederate flag as a symbol of their heritage -- are suddenly understanding what the blacks have been saying, and are ready to take some action. There is the widest opening of the door to communication that we have seen in many decades. Something might actually get done.

The willingness of many blacks, especially those in the Emanuel Church, to offer forgiveness has been an important factor in this shift. Whites have been astonished at this reaction, and ashamed. It has led them to try to understand more deeply the feelings and experiences of the black community, to empathize in a way they have not before. That is the kind of alchemy called out, at certain moments of crisis, by great leaders like Gandhi and Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King. As Abraham Lincoln (may have) said, “Do I not defeat my enemy by making him my friend?”

If you refuse to forgive, you may strengthen your own resolve, but you also strengthen the resolve of your opponents. When you draw the lines more sharply, you make it clearer to yourself why you are good and they are not; but you also reinforce their own sense of right. There are times when that is necessary. This isn’t one of them.

"I identify as black"

To trust others, you want to know where they fit in the scheme of things. You are used to treating women one way in particular situations, men another, and you expect them to respond appropriately. There are some things you can say to whites that you can’t say to blacks, and vice-versa; there are codes for the "right" way to behave for children, for police officers, for your wife or your husband, for other people's wives and husbands. You expect others to play these familiar roles and to know the codes as well as you. If they violate them in some way, even trivial, you wonder about them, and you can't really trust them in other ways.

Now we get Rachel Donezal, who has said for years that she is black and has held high positions in the NAACP, but who, it seems, is actually purely white. It rattles us. If it was the reverse - black passing for white - it would be much less upsetting; one might condemn it, but it would be easy to imagine why she would do that and what game she was playing. But we can't figure out what game she is playing here. It disturbs our expectations of how people act. Some people try to cram her into a familiar box: she must be doing it out of self interest, to gain advantages from affirmative action! But there is no evidence that she tried to do that; on the contrary, she almost certainly made life harder for herself.

Yet Donezal is only a particularly obvious case of something happening more and more widely: people are choosing, even constructing, their ethnic and sexual identities rather than accepting those given to them by tradition and birth. Many who might be called black do indeed choose to identify as white. President Obama had a choice, and he chose black. Why is that different from Donezal? He had one black parent, to be sure, but he still had to make a choice, and he was welcomed by the black community. Then there is the sudden attention to transgender people: even more sharply than race, gender has been the fundamental marker of human identity and the definer of relations - yet now Bruce Jenner can become Caitlyn.

It's understandable that many people want to say, "Stop this madness!" If anyone can be anything, how do we know who anybody is? How do we know what to expect? Can people choose to act any way they want? Isn't this a course towards chaos?

Shakespeare expressed this feeling at a time of challenges to the settled order of “degree”:

Take but degree away, untune that string,

And, hark, what discord follows!

What plagues and what portents! what mutiny!

What raging of the sea! shaking of earth!

Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors...

But despite the discomfort and the fears, it's not going to stop. Jenner and Donezal represent just another step in a progression that had gone on for many centuries since Shakespeare's time, which has opened the opportunity for the shopkeeper's son to be a lawyer, and then for his daughter to be a senator, and for the grandson of a slave to be his boss. At each step of this long progression the same cry had been raised: it breaks the rules, it's immoral, it threatens our way of life! Each step has indeed been difficult and confusing, but our society is much larger and better for it. Now: if a woman can be president, why can't she be a man? And if she is born white, why can't she be black?

There's only one way to avoid chaos in a world where people really get to choose who they are: to try to understand them. If we can understand why Caitlin Jenner made her choice, we can start to make sense of her motives and, ultimately, to trust her. She has gotten to tell her story, in Vanity Fair, so millions have begun to stretch their understanding of how people might feel and act. But for Rachel Donezal, there has been less opportunity: she has been driven largely into silence.

We should stop and listen to her. We should listen to what she has to say about how she sees herself and the world. We should try to see her perspective. Then, if necessary, we can judge.

Inequality

Many people on the left side of the political spectrum believe that the key problem now is economic inequality, and that the solution must start by redistributing some of the wealth of the rich to the rest of the population. This is, for instance, the point of the “Occupy” movement’s criticism of the “1%”.

There’s much truth in this view. It’s now indisputable that the level of inequality has increased dramatically in recent decades, reaching levels last seen before the Great Depression (the one in the 1930s). It seems largely indisputable as well that the wealthy are more separated from the rest of society than in the past – living in gated communities, getting increasing access to services designed especially for them – and that the influence of money on the political process has grown. All of this is troubling. But the liberal diagnosis and prescription does not follow.

The first difficulty is that most of the country does not agree with this diagnosis -- so you can't get them to take the prescription. It is true that most citizens, perhaps 2/3, agree that the rich are not paying their fair share of taxes and exert too much influence; but if you dig a little deeper into the polls, you find that it is a weakly-held belief, low priority, and has actually declined in the last decade. That is why the Occupy movement has never gained significant traction beyond the core liberal community. Instead, much of the country believes, with great passion, that the most important problems are moral – a breakdown in responsibility, community, and value integrity. This leads not to demands for redistribution of wealth, but to various conservative and fundamentalist movements focused on religion and traditional values or local control.

These movements are not driven by the wealthy, though they have formed an uncomfortable alliance. The Tea Party and its ilk are neither very favorable nor very critical towards wealth as such; and their core issues are ones which are not of concern to the wealthy and are indeed often problematic for business leaders. Wealth in itself creates no reasons for caring about homosexuality or abortion or gun ownership; while business leaders disagree with the Tea Party on diversity and object to restrictions on immigration.

Any historical survey will make clear that inequality has produced morally conservative movements at least as often as liberal-redistributive ones. Sometimes the two strands have combined in unfortunate ways: millenarian movements since the middle ages have often combined extreme ethical-religious purism with total communism of property. More generally, the point is that that protest movements have rarely followed the simple logic of economic interests.

The second problem is with the liberals' prescription – their view of how to correct the injustices. Their answer is generally through a combination of tax policy and social-welfare redistribution. This answer does not take into account the really deep, wide, and long-lasting loss of faith in the effectiveness of government – going back at least forty years, and extending through the entire advanced industrial world. Even those who agree that inequality has grown too large generally recoil at the thought that government power should be increased to deal with it. About 2/3 of the population has a negative view of the federal government, believes it has too much power, and sees it as the primary danger for the future; less than 20% view it favorably, and less than 10% believe it should have more power.

So the liberal policy justification comes down to saying: “We know better.” There has always been something bothersome to me about the famous phrase, “It’s the economy, stupid!”: it seems disrespectful and demeaning, implying that many things that people care about very deeply are not important. And it doesn’t actually work: liberals have struggled to explain why so much of the electorate continues to vote against their economic self-interest, at least as the experts see it. Robert Frank, trying to figure out "What's The Matter With Kansas?", lamented that conservatives have “won the heart of America” even though – in his view – rational minds should tend to liberalism. A rather vicious circle of mutual misunderstanding has been established, and many in the broad middle of the country (geographically and politically) feel their concerns are being treated with disrespect. That sparks anger, and anger drives the tremendous energy of the Tea Party and other groups on the Right.

Anyone who cares about community needs to be concerned about the corrosive effects of rising inequality. But we need to spend more time understanding before prescribing.

Professionals: how to keep them honest?

Reports of dishonesty among professionals, such as doctors and researchers, are surging. Every day, it seems, new stories emerge of doctors who fatten their profits through unnecessary procedures, or who are paid by pharmaceutical companies to push new drugs. The Chief Medical Officer of the American Cancer Society describes American health care today as “a subtle form of corruption”. The corruption has also spread to many other fields: recent reports document rising incidents of outright fabrication of academic research results, and more pervasively, a widespread tendency to “torture” data – to use technically legitimate statistical analyses to get results that are statistically significant but not necessarily valid.

This probably didn’t happen so much in the past. Doctors and researchers used to be shielded from outside pressures and incentives, and primarily influenced by their peers. They were part of tight communities with strong values; their reputations – and success – depended in upholding those values. There wasn’t much confusion about right and wrong. Both moral and material incentives encouraged focus on the pursuit of truth and social benefit.

But things have changed. Professional communities are increasingly penetrated by the outside world. There is more chance to make money and reputation by impressing the general public: superstars are viewed on TED Talks and written up in popular media. At the same time, those outsiders demand new levels of openness: they don’t automatically take the word of doctors or scientists or teachers that they know what they’re doing. All kinds of objective measurements have been put forward to prove professional worth: ranking systems for universities, hospitals, schools, professors. Those who score high may make a lot of money.

Thus for professionals, motivations are confused. They are no longer bound in a relatively unified community that understands them in depth. There is tremendous incentive do things that look good in the metrics or in the press, whether or not they advance truth or justice. As a professor, I hear my young colleagues talking in the annual meetings about how many publications they can get out of a single study, rather than how they can deepen their findings. They measure results in part by whether they will get attention in the press. Once they’ve found a good result, there’s neither material nor moral incentive to query it: they want to get it out to a publication as fast as possible so it will count on their metrics. Some people, inevitably, are pushed close to the edge, torturing data and ignoring annoying nagging questions in their minds; a few are pushed over the edge, fabricating results.

What to do?

The road back to the old order is probably closed. Professionals can’t just keep each other honest. There are too many cross-cutting temptations and incentives. Moreover, the clients don’t really want that: they want a voice in professionals’ deliberations. In every part of society, there is less public deference to experts. People are less willing to just let their doctors prescribe or their teachers set curriculum; they want to discuss it and have their say.

Government regulation can at best deal with only a tiny part of the corruption: even the most dictatorial states can catch no more than a fraction of wrongdoing. Government is effective only when most people want to do the right thing.

The only way forward is a big change in mindset: for professionals and their clients to come together around a shared sense of purpose. Right now it’s a tug of war: in the past professionals did things their way, telling clients to trust them to do the right thing; now clients want it their way, wanting to shape outcomes and processes. The only way that will work is for the parties to try to build action in concert.

Doctors can't just tell patients what to do: they need to enlist them in a shared to maintain health. To do that, they need to discuss options and purposes, to listen closely to what the patients need, to make sure there is a common understanding of a course of treatment. With that kind of collaboration, diabetics, for example, are much more likely to take their medicines and maintain their weight. And doctors are more likely to be focused on the "right" things.

Similarly, teachers can't just set curriculum and expect to be paid what they think they're worth; they need to justify their worth to parents and communities, to win support. This can be painful and difficult, involving dealing with narrow perspectives and ideological conflicts; but it's the only long-term way to create a responsible system of education in which teachers are motivated to do the right thing.

This is a big change. Some small steps have been taken: some change in the way doctors talk to their patients, some improvement in the availability of information that patients or other clients, some increased education, some development of public debates. But we’re still far from a state in which clients and professionals really work together, both playing their part in maintaining core values.

Africa and the developed world

This is confusing.

A trio of writers from different parts of Africa, interviewed on NPR, say to all the well-meaning helpers from the developed world, the foundations and charities and development groups: “Just stop it!” They feel "irritated," they say -- pushed around by all the helping hands. They can't hear themselves think, or remember their own cultures. They want space to focus on exploring their histories and building a future based on African history and identity, not someone else's solution.

On one hand, this resonates with the liberal multiculturalist sensibility that advocates respect for all cultures, listening, understanding. On the other hand, some of what they say sounds like conservative criticisms of the liberal state. One of the three speaks of the mentality of “entitlement without involvement” that develops when outside do-gooders come in with answers. That’s exactly the conservative argument against welfare programs.

And this still leaves the question: What to do? “Just stop it!” is not enough. It doesn’t help the millions of desperately poor in these nations, who are not being helped by their own rulers. The instinct of "leave us alone" doesn't solve the problems.

The writers have only vague answers to this, but they come down to: Let’s work together, as human beings. We need to work with others, but first we need to be clearer about who we are and what we value. We have to be involved in defining the solutions.

It’s a very interesting interview. It doesn’t give much comfort to liberals or conservatives, or really to anyone. It gives only some things to think about.

Institutions of understanding

Understanding among diverse social groups will spread only when people in general, the population at large, know how to listen and engage in real dialogue. The bad news is that such experience is sadly lacking; but the good news is that it is more common than ever before, and it is developing rapidly.

For centuries we have developed habits of dealing with strangers at arms' length -- making deals with them, but not trying to see things from their point of view. But over the last half-century, there have been an increasing number of organized situations that help us get inside others' minds and cultures. Now, more than ever before, most people have at least some experience of trying to stretch towards another perspective. A short list of these developments might include:

• Elementary and secondary schooling, which have moved quite a long way over the last few decades to incorporate the idea of understanding different cultures from the inside, and have encouraged dialogues across powerful boundaries of ethnicity and religion.
• Higher education, which has become (since World War II) a mass experience that brings together very different people in intense shared experiences that create lasting bonds, pulling them out of their limited local communities.
• Self-help books, which have become ubiquitous from Massachusetts to Kansas, and which have largely adopted the new mindset: rather than telling people to follow traditional rules and to act with consistency, they usually encourage people to explore different paths, to seek out new experiences, to widen their horizons in the search for true identity.
• “Anonymous” groups, which create a structured context in which all are encouraged to speak of deep personal feelings and to empathize with others from all sorts of backgrounds.
• Social media like Facebook, where people interact with far wider circles than before (research evidence does not support the fear that people withdrawing into homogeneous groups).
• Structured community dialogues, which have just begun to be a popular tool for response to tensions among groups; they have recently been used in many communities to address racial tensions in the wake of the Ferguson troubles.
• Religious ecumenicism, deliberately creating dialogues that transcend orthodoxies.
• The “sharing” of music, art, cuisine and other aspects of culture and taste – leading to infinite varieties of mixing that pull together dispersed communities.
• Even reality TV attracts viewers by letting them see directly into worlds very different from their own. 

This is just a start. The level of invention is very high: new tools and organizations are constantly emerging, seeking better ways to connect groups that have long been divided. We’re still a long way from a society in which tensions are regularly resolved by trying to understand others’ perspective; but the encouraging thing is that we’ve moved a fair ways down the path in a fairly short time.

A small collision

As I got into my car at a crowded parking lot, the woman sitting in the car next to me honked and pulled down the window. “You just hit the side of my car extremely hard with your door,” she yelled. Taken aback, I said I was sorry – with a tiny sarcastic edge, almost unnoticeable. “Well, be careful,” she said, as she rolled the window back up.

I moved on, but I couldn't let this go. First, in silent monologue, I defended myself: I didn’t really hit her car, or if I did it certainly wasn’t hard – maybe I just bumped it lightly with my shoulder bag. Then I tried to turn the moral tables: she can’t expect her car not to be touched in a tight space; she must be ridiculously over-protective; she was way out of line. Then it got personal: I told myself I didn’t like her looks, or her voice, or her bug fat car. I slotted her into a category of people who repel me: arrogant, self-righteous. I regretted being so passive and searched for some stinging retort I could have used.

Then, because I am working on this topic, I tried something else: I tried to imagine it from her point of view – what she might have been feeling and thinking. I didn’t have much to work with, since I hadn’t actually talked to her and knew nothing about her. But it’s not hard to imagine scenarios. Maybe she was having one of those incredibly irritating days when everything goes wrong – she dropped the car keys down between the seats, she got to her appointment late, the person had left, she rushed to try to catch up, she got a speeding ticket; and now, on top of it all, this jerk opens his door into her new car and doesn’t even apologize. I've certainly gotten grumpy at times like that.

I have no idea if the reality was anything like this. But what was startling to me was that as soon as I started to think in this way, my obsessive anger abated. I didn’t feel the need to square the moral tables, to get even, or to justify myself to myself. My energy was moving in a different direction, with a different emotional tone. I was in an empathizing mode instead of a self-protective mode. I no longer felt lingering shadows of self-doubt and potential guilt. I felt much better about myself, as well as less angry.

There’s something profound here. The way I reacted at first is the way irrational conflicts begin, up to wars and genocides. They’re driven by the feeling of “We’re good, you’re bad; when you criticize us it just confirms how good we are and how bad you are; you can’t get away with that; we’ll show you.” I was feeling all of that, and if I had actually retorted as I was playing out in my mind I can imagine it could quickly have escalated into heated words, and maybe calling the cops, maybe a lawsuit.

The second way felt much better and was much less likely to lead to conflict. But it took an unfamiliar mental effort to get there, and it took continued effort to stay there. I can still, as I write this, catch myself slipping back into the initial anger – how dare she! I can wrest myself out of it by replaying the process of imagining her perspective. But it's clear that this is not natural.

We bump into each other more and more as the world gets tighter. If we’re not going to be fighting all the time we need institutions to help us understand each other – habits of empathy, mutual expectations (she might have tried the same on me), dispute-resolution systems based on it (not just trying to judge who’s right).

Managing the dangers of knowledge

Scientists recently called for a moratorium on research on a technique that could alter hereditable genes. That research certainly raises disturbing possibilities: we’re talking about ways to make particular lineages them smarter and healthier – or maybe more aggressive, or more passive and accepting of authority. Surely we need to get a handle on the possible consequences and how they would be managed.

The scientists call for some kind of discussion and development of guidelines among themselves. But that would hardly be enough. Biologists are not experts in ethics, and they don’t represent most of the population; there's no reason to believe they would make the right moral decisions. And if they did set limits on themselves, there would be no means of enforcement beyond moral suasion. That could work only as long as the community of researchers remains small and tight; but increasingly this kind of knowledge is spreading far beyond the familiar Western bastions of academic knowledge, to nations and actors who move in very different circles.

This puts me in mind of the response to the development of the atom bomb. Many of the scientists involved in its creation, including Albert Einstein, were horrified at the potential consequences of what they had wrought, and they appealed to President Roosevelt and other political figures to put a stop to it. It didn’t work then: the pressures of fear, mistrust, ambition, and conflicting goals were far too great to allow space for reasoned dialogue.

Now we have to succeed where even Einstein failed. We have escaped destruction from the atom bomb so far, by the skin of our teeth – but that threat will soon return, magnified, as more and more nations, and non-nation actors, gain in technical capability. Indeed, they will get even more terrifying capabilities: for creating new diseases, more dangerous chemicals, computer attacks that can penetrate homes and schools as well as governments.

We can’t manage these dangers through the mechanisms of the past -- the balance of power, the protection of dangerous knowledge. We escaped the atom bomb while only two actors really had the possibility of using it, because they could establish a balance of terror. But when dozens or hundreds of players can use it, the chances will become overwhelming that one of them will try to get away with it. There is simply too much knowledge out there. That tide can’t be rolled back. Our only hope is to channel it.

We can only avoid destruction the peoples of the world agree on the path forward, and act to bring it about – restraining themselves from taking advantage of each other, sanctioning deviants in their midst, pulling in the same direction. That requires the kind of discussion that the scientists are calling for in genetic modification, only on a much wider and larger scale, including people at all levels of society, all the way to the neighborhoods where terrorist cells are sheltered.

This seems like a forlorn hope. But the Internet, which spreads the dangers of knowledge, also spreads interaction and understanding among peoples. It can be used in creative ways to build broad conversations and shared visions. We need to explore that road, and in a hurry.

Clubbiness (me and the Oklahoma frat boys)

The overtly racist chants of fraternity brothers at the University of Oklahoma have drawn national outrage. They certainly show that abhorrent attitudes are still around. But they also show something deeper: they reveal the way in which communities turn ugly. It's a dynamic that is not just out there in strange places -- it can easily lead anyone, including you and me, to the edge of nastiness.

Living in an East coast suburb, I often hear people sitting around with their friends talking about the stupidity of Tea Partiers. If I was in other towns I might be hearing groups talk about the arrogance and dishonesty of the Eastern elites. We're all really no different from the frat boys. We're all acting clubby: making ourselves feel good by putting down those we don't agree with, looking to our friends for reinforcement ("Yeah, you're right! They are jerks!"). Few of us make the effort to understand why they feel the way they do, to listen, possibly even to learn.

We all like clubs. They are the kind of community we long for: warm, close, supportive, personal. But in a diverse environment they're not so great: they divide us, let us get away with being lazy and self-righteous. We need another way to build communities.