Archive for the ‘life’ Category

1984

January 11, 2026

Yes, the book, Orwell’s 1949 novel. I read it, like, 60 years ago. But one of my book groups recently picked it — for obvious reasons. So I read it again. Unfun.

Set in a then-future London, this is a classic dystopia. Ruled by an oppressive, all-controlling “party,” led by “Big Brother” (probably not an actual person) who, on omnipresent posters, “is watching you.” Through telescreens everywhere. (Would require, like, half the party to do all that watching, but those viewers are never mentioned.)

This was somewhat modeled on Stalin’s USSR, written before its horribleness was much known to the outside world. A pervasive feature is people made “unpersons” — “vaporized.” In vast numbers, mostly for “thoughtcrime” (or any vague hint of it). Yet meantime 85% of the population are “proletarians” (“proles”) living a hardscrabble existence and actually largely ignored by the regime.

From the earliest pages I was struck by just how extreme Orwell’s picture is. No subtlety or notionally redeeming glimmers, but dark in every detail. The food bad tasting; the liquor vile; every utensil “greasy.” Even the air itself nasty in this 1984 London. It all felt overdone. And it only got more and more extreme.

The protagonist, Winston Smith, ironically combines a quintessential Everyman last name with that of a heroic icon. Winston, 39, lacks memory of a pre-“Big Brother” time. To this reader he seemed something of a cipher, a character without character. Like the soulless guy in Camus’s The Stranger.

The book is a meditation on the human condition. The world of party creatures Winston inhabits is thoroughly inhuman. Which he comes to see when he hooks up with lover Julia, a prohibited relationship; realizing that only the wretched proles retain their humanity. The book shows us how alone we all truly are —however much involved with others, ultimately imprisoned within our own skulls. And the one line that stuck with me, from my long-ago reading, was Winston’s, under torture: “Do it to Julia.”

Winston works at the Ministry of Truth, which of course is a ministry of lies. His job involves revising past documents in conformance with the regime’s current story. That is, altering the past, particularly erasing any record of unpersons. (Stalin famously had Trotsky and other fallen people scrubbed from old photos.)

This is a huge undertaking, with Smith a small cog. But I wondered why the effort was even deemed needed. It didn’t seem people in this society would have much access, anyway, to that past documentation, so why bother altering it? Just feed people the crap you want them to swallow now. (There’s war, against Eastasia. Until suddenly it’s against Eurasia. Why would the party see fit to make that change? But never mind; the point is that everyone adjusts their brains to the altered “reality.” Proving the party’s power over it.)

This resonates for today’s America. Most notably our regime’s huge effort to revise the history of what occurred on January 6, 2021. Brazen nineteen-eighty-fourization. Showing that not even here is there any need to, as in Orwell’s dystopia, go back and falsify the original news reports of that day. Or the damning congressional inquiry report.* The regime simply spews out its very different story, and its cultists believe it. Lincoln did say, “you can fool some of the people all of the time.”

Now the Renee Good killing. Video shows an ICE agent’s obviously unjustified shooting. “Self defense” says the regime. That’s “garbage” as the Minneapolis mayor says. Yet all MAGA world buys it. Seeing is believing, but for many people what they believe dictates what they see.

Back to 1984: one could fathom the party’s vaporizing the insufficiently loyal. Yet the extent of this is, again, extreme; swallowing almost everyone eventually. And with such cruel brutality that Orwell’s account here again seems over-the-top. Winston’s interrogation, with torture, goes on for months and pages and pages. What is the point — if all such victims will be shot in the end anyway? But that very question is the point; Winston himself asks it. The answer he gets from his high-placed torturer makes no sense from any rational standpoint. It’s totally insane. While Winston is told the purpose is to cure his notional insanity.

A critique of the novel is the inclusion of many pages from a book Winston obtains, by Goldstein, the anti-party rebel. Analyzing the society and party. I found this tedious and unnecessary; actually detracting from the unnerving mysteriousness of it all. But I did note Goldstein’s characterizing the party man as “a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation and orgiastic triumph . . . the mentality appropriate to a state of war.” A fair description of the MAGA mindset plaguing America.

Doubleplusungood.

* The commemorative plaques honoring the January 6 police heroes have been disappeared from the House of Representatives.

My Blog Suspension

January 8, 2026

Visitors here in recent days have gotten a screen saying this blog is suspended for violating terms of service.

I learned of it yesterday when I tried to post a new piece and hit a nasty red box. I do write some feisty stuff, but always try to be responsible. My wife suspected I’d finally been busted by the regime. I expressed confidence that we still (largely) have freedom of speech, and that whatever had happened, it would be fixed in a rational system.

I tried to contact WordPress, the host. Then an email arrived, saying I’d been warned several times — I hadn’t received those messages — but now explaining the suspension, and inviting my response.

It concerned not anything I’d written, but comments! In 2017 I’d posted “Why So Many Blacks in Ads?” A serious question which I tried to discuss seriously. This proved to be my most visited blog post ever — attracting the most comments — by far. Continuing thus over the years.

Mostly hair-raisingly racist comments. Believing in free speech, I have refrained from censoring them; and here I wanted to leave those comments up, so people can see just what extremes of vicious racism are out there. I’ve even sometimes pointed to them.

WordPress, however, said I had violated terms of service by not deleting those comments. I replied that I would abide by their requirements. They answered that the suspension is lifted, and specifying some mysterious browser rigmarole I needed to do, in addition to deleting the comments. I replied that I was able to do the rigmarole (I think) but found the blog actually still suspended, blocking my comment deletion. (In the exchange, I believe I was interacting with an AI.)

Then, lo, this morning my e-mail included a routine notice of a new comment (on “Why So Many Blacks” of course). How did that happen? Seems the blog was now indeed unsuspended. So I went in, to delete all the ugly comments. I thought I did it, yet it seems most are still there. Will follow up.

Meantime, oddly enough, I’d been planning to post, as a joke, a fake notice of blog suspension, calling me “Freaky Franky” and a “lunatic leftist scumbag,” ordered by the President with Trump’s signature. I think I won’t do that now.

Artificial Intelligence Versus Human Intelligence

January 2, 2026

Futurist Ray Kurzweil has foreseen a coming “Singularity” when artificial intelligence outstrips ours, then widens the gap exponentially by taking over its own further development. Making a new and different world. Some fear this threatens humankind.

Melanie Mitchell’s book, Artificial Intelligence — A Guide for Thinking Humans was written in 2019, before the field really exploded with ChatGPT in 2022. Yet the book usefully explores relevant fundamental questions. Mainly, what is intelligence, really? Like humans have.

Back in 2016, I attended a talk by computer guru David Gelernter, who deemed artificial consciousness impossible, insisting consciousness requires neurons. I challenged this in the Q&A, arguing that if neurons’ functioning could be replicated artificially, there’s no bar to consciousness. It’s not magic.

Mitchell’s book might make consciousness seem impossible — even for humans. There’s a recurring trope: it’s the easy stuff that’s hard. Meaning the ways our minds function, virtually effortlessly, negotiating through everyday life. “Common sense” is another repeated notion. It turns out all this is not simple at all.

Actually, in terms of raw intelligence, artificial systems already far outstrip human brains. Being able to access vastly more information, analyze it, put it together, draw conclusions. And yet — a key Mitchell point — what they cannot do is understand.

That’s the big difference. Our minds arise out of the functioning of our neurons, processing information. An AI processing information may seem analogous. But the processing in our brains results in consciousness, in understanding, that artificial systems cannot (yet) come close to.

Consciousness means not just thinking but thinking about our thinking. Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio elucidated this in Descartes’ Error. Our minds create, for a perception or idea, a representation of it. The self perceives that representation. By means of a further representation, of the self perceiving that initial representation. But it may need yet a still higher order representation. It gets complicated.

An aspect here is feelings. Part of having a sense of self. Artificial systems lack that and hence cannot want anything. They only “want” what they’re programmed for. At one point Mitchell writes of an AI program learning to improve its performance by earning points for certain results. But I wondered: what would an AI care about such points? It cannot care about anything.

So how, exactly, does all this happen in our brains? This has been called the “hard problem.” An understatement. Our science isn’t really close to solving it. And Mitchell’s contrasting what our brains do do, versus what (extremely sophisticated) artificial systems do, makes the former so advancedly complex as to seem virtually impossible. Yet of course we know even nitwits do it, effortlessly.

Mitchell discusses in depth how artificial intelligence work has developed over decades. Basically, the thrust has been to equip artificial systems with vast libraries of knowledge which they can use to analyze problems. For example, IBM’s “Watson” program that could answer “Jeopardy” questions.

But what modern systems like ChatGPT do seems different — not just answering questions. These “large language models” can write essays, poems, songs. An AI-created song, even including an ersatz singer singing it, has now topped the charts. Mitchell notes a test where some music mavens were given a lesser known Liszt composition versus an AI-created Liszt mimic. They mistook the mimic as the real Liszt.

However much all this seems like intelligence at work, we’re still assured it’s indeed artificial and not true intelligence (like ours). More specifically, all a program like ChatGPT does is simply to guess the next word in a sequence. Writing whole books that way.

But just for a laugh, I asked ChatGPT for aValentine’s poem for a wife who’s herself a poet and also an AI aficionado. It produced a fairly clever poem riffing on those elements — with a cute funny ending, which it was hard to believe wasn’t planned by the “writer” from the outset. (Read it here: www.fsrcoin.com/AI.htm)

Writing this essay, it feels a lot like I too work by simply guessing each next appropriate word. Yet I do have some overall ideas in mind, that I’m putting into words, one by one. I have understanding.

Which brings us back to the key point. An AI simulates understanding, without actually having it. And let’s be more concrete about this. Mitchell goes into some depth explaining how a human mind, from an extremely early age, develops a common sense understanding of how the world works. Such simple concepts like a smaller object isn’t visible if behind a larger one; objects fall down, not up; etc., etc. Such things may seem obvious, but an AI operates without this sort of knowledge. Mitchell cites one effort to specifically instruct an AI with a full repertoire of such simple understandings. It failed because millions of such precepts would have been required.

Another point: integral to our consciousness is its continuity, throughout one’s life. Even while asleep. Does an AI have an existence like that, just quietly waiting to be given a query? It seems like a wholly different sort of being.

In the end, Mitchell returns to the idea of artificial systems gaining general intelligence, far surpassing anything humans are capable of — overcoming all the “annoying limitations” we’re subject to, all our irrationality and cognitive biases, our slowness, emotions, etc. Thus attaining “super-intelligence.” However, she suggests, all those supposed human limitations are actually integralto our general intelligence, making us what we are, “rather than narrow savants.” Better really.

Understanding and consciousness go hand in hand. The idea of an AI arising into consciousness is a gigantic matter. Meaning AI personhood; becoming not our tools but our brethren. Again, if we do not understand exactly how our own consciousness arises, we do know there must be something about our neuronal functioning that creates it. So it’s logically conceivable that at some point, artificial systems could have a complexity of information processing at a level sufficiently comparable to ours to produce consciousness.

However, it’s almost surely wrong to envision a consciousness suddenly bursting forth that’s fully equivalent to the human kind. Consciousness is not either-or, but instead falls along a spectrum, with human level consciousness at the top (at least on this planet) and other creatures, like chimps, elephants or dolphins, apparently having something close; dogs, and then cats, descending down the scale, followed by mice and lower animals; insects may have a very rudimentary sort of consciousness. Could an existing AI already have something like that? How could we tell? Moreover, could there be a kind of consciousness differing from what we’re familiar with? Could we recognize it?

Making Sense of Life

November 17, 2025

Some look to religion to make sense of life. To me it makes perfect sense without that. Religion only confuses things.

Why is there something and not nothing? The deepest of questions, which I’ve explored. Yet perhaps ultimately a meaningless question. Existence exists. It just is. A given.

The same goes for life. Seemingly miraculous, how can we account for it? Yet in a universe so vast and complex, with gazillions of molecules (actually, estimated in the quadrillion vigintillions), a few combining somewhere in a way that makes life might actually be inevitable.

Most immediately, I exist because my parents had sex.* Richard Dawkins best explained that — Nature doesn’t “want” anything, but if a molecular construct stumbles into reproducibility, and the products aren’t all exactly identical, then the varieties best at reproducing themselves will proliferate. Repeat millions of times and you get the biology we see. It turned out that a good way to make for proliferation is sex. So we evolved to want sex.

That’s why I exist, there’s nothing more to it. Does that make it meaningless? To the cosmos, yes. But not to me. With a conscious self. However I got here, with that, my existence has meaning for me. The only sort of meaning conceivable.

Nothing can mean anything unless it means something to someone. Someone capable of feeling something. Such feelings are all that can matter. Without that, the universe might as well not exist.

This tells us how life makes sense, and how to live it. The very fact that our existence is mere cosmic happenstance, with no god, is a good thing, freeing us to make of it what we ourselves choose. With the aim of optimizing those feelings. For oneself, firstly, and then, to the extent attainable, for others. The more positive feelings there are in the world, the better. Nothing else counts.

But what of death, you say? A big sticking point in trying to make sense of life. In the end it all comes to nothing. But that doesn’t cancel out what one experienced before. Those experiences are just capped and do not continue. That’s simply how it works, a fact of existence just like existence itself. Which, though finite, is still a great gift. One wouldn’t complain that a million dollar lottery jackpot isn’t two million.

Religion does not make sense of death — rather, denies it. Not helpful to our understanding it, and in living with its reality. However much believers look forward to Heaven, few are keen to depart. What do they truly believe, deep down? Certainly nothing coherent. I can’t live that way, struggling to delude myself.

God doesn’t help either. Another fairy story. In fact, trying to understand existence through an idea of a god manipulating it plunges you into quicksand. Where did god come from anyway? In contrast, at least we can be sure the universe exists. And people tie themselves in knots struggling to square their fantasy of a benevolent god with observable reality. It makes no sense. Whereas, again, the reality I see makes perfect sense.

It’s beautiful, really. I love it.

* I remember, as a little kid, picturing them fumbling clumsily in the bathroom laughing over what a silly-seeming thing they were doing.

Loving My Wife: The Recursion of Feelings

November 8, 2025

I love my wife. That makes me happy. What do those statements really mean? How does it work?

The pleasure from eating tasty food seems straightforward. But maybe it isn’t.

Such pleasures, and the whole range of other things we experience, are called qualia. It’s the self that does the experiencing. And how does that happen?Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio’s book Descartes’ Error was very enlightening here. We have thoughts, but what’s central is thinking about our thoughts. The brain does that by making representations — encoding perceptions, sensations, feelings, thoughts, into images (or some sort of equivalent) that you grasp.

But who is the “you” there? Damasio posited that it’s not enough just to perceive a representation. You need a further representation, of the self doing the perceiving — and that latter representation too needs some entity to perceive it. This may suggest an endless recursion. Yet it is indeed the only way selfhood can work.

This recursiveness brings me back to my marital love and feeling about it. Pondering, I realize that what I really love is not my wife herself, directly, but rather how it feels to me to experience the love. This might seem unbecomingly self-centered. Making it all about me rather than her. As though she’s an abstraction. That’s not the way one is supposed to love someone — or so we imagine, romantically, somehow. Yet no feelings can exist except inside one’s own head. There is no way to make sense of love except through that lens. Even if one were to posit putting the beloved ahead of oneself, that very construct can still operate only inside one’s head; something the self is doing for reasons it rationalizes for itself. True “selflessness” cannot be a thing; taken seriously it would mean self-annihilation.

Once again it’s thinking about one’s thinking. What my love really consists of is thinking about how it makes me happy. It’s a representation of me perceiving a representation of my marital happiness. But at least one more level of representation does seem needed — a yet higher order perceptor that registers what I’ve just described, so that the happiness is not just a thing perceived but a thing felt.

Yet that transformation of perception into feeling seems ultimately elusive. Perception and feeling are actually very different. That is the real problem of consciousness and the self. Organisms from life’s beginning had the capacity to perceive, and to act upon perceptions, without any feeling required. But feeling evolved because thusly caring about itself gave an organism a survival advantage, a greater impetus to preserve itself. And that survival advantage would obtain even if, as many philosophers have posited, the self that does the feeling is an illusion. Because the organism doesn’t know it’s an illusion, the illusion would nevertheless produce the useful adaptive effect. So for Nature’s purposes, an illusion of a feeling self would fill the bill, with no need for a genuine feeling self (with all its attendant philosophical problems).

So where does that leave us? Even though we can’t quite put our finger on the mechanism by which feelings are felt, loving my wife does make me happy. If that’s an illusion, so be it.

Power and Progress

November 3, 2025

In the 2023 book, Power and Progress, by Daron Acemoglu and Simon Johnson, the idea of progress improving productivity, and making everyone better off, is called the “bandwagon effect.” But they argue that in fact powerful elites often hog the benefits at the expense of the many.

Jefferson, in his last letter, wrote that “the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them.”

Acemoglu’s previous co-authored book, Why Nations Fail, similarly distinguished between extractive and inclusive economic systems. In the former, a narrow ruling elite can grab an outsized share of wealth — standard through most of history. Inclusive economies go hand-in-hand with inclusive, i.e., democratic political systems — a very modern development.

Life was revolutionized by the invention of agriculture and animal domestication roughly 10,000 years ago, enabling civilization to develop. But that also enabled powerful ruling elites to emerge, monopolizing the fruits of productivity, making most people their tools, and worse off. (It took around 9900 years before agriculture got efficient enough to truly benefit the masses.)

The story with the industrial revolution, starting in the mid-1700s, was similar. This greatly expanded our productive capacity, upon which the powerful could capitalize, together with a new class of industrial and technocratic entrepreneurs. Once more making proletarians their tools, laboring in the new factories — their lives nastier, more brutish, and actually shorter.

Because they had no power, as against the elites. Only, finally, with the advent of more democratic systems were common people able to get a better deal, with greater shares from productivity gains. Introducing our era of mass affluence. In advanced countries, at least, the average person began to live far more comfortably, healthily, and happily.

But this shouldn’t be taken for granted as somehow inevitable, the authors argue. In fact they see it as now unraveling. Mass affluence not only stagnating but going into reverse.

There’s been much negative comparison between a halcyon period of rising prosperity, roughly 1945-75, and subsequent decades, with growing inequality. Those calculations are heavily skewed by exploding fortunes at the top. Yet it’s not so clear that the existence of gazillionaires actually harms Joe Sixpacks. Seemingly stagnating incomes may be too narrow a picture, failing to recognize all the ways advancing technology has improved quality of life for the masses.

Poverty ain’t what it used to be. We take for granted aspects of mass society that simply were not available not so long ago. On vacation cruises I’ve been struck by how very ordinary my fellow passengers are.

But the authors are right that this is not from some law of nature, and even if they overdo their fretting, storm clouds do loom. A sci-fi staple (starting with H.G. Wells) is future dystopia with grotesque contrasts between a few rich and many poor.

I recall one tale with virtual immortality, but you needed government-issued time credits. They became the currency; go broke and your life terminated.

In modern times, the fruits of technological advancement have been widely spread thanks to their tendency to engender new needed tasks, hence more job opportunities. Counteracting Luddite fears. But what’s on the technological horizon now may be different, with AI in particular so omni-competent that work by humans becomes rarely needed. A socio-economic norm of full employment impossible. Up-ending a system wherein a non-working minority could be supported from the incomes of an employed majority.

Again, in past epochs most people were only barely subsisting because they lacked the political power to get a better deal. Mass affluence has been the product of democracy. But now democracy too is faltering. Just when broad populations may no longer be able to support themselves through work.

This is what makes our democratic crumbling so scary. People are witlessly chucking away their power, succumbing to the misguided allure of an “only I can fix it” strongman. Giving up control to his billionaire cronies.

One takeaway relevant here: propaganda works. I’d like to think people see it for what it is. But no. The book relates a study of Chinese students, indoctrinated with the government line and cut off from outside information. Ones given special incentives to view it changed their opinions. But most weren’t even interested. The authors see us less in 1984 with pervasive censorship than Brave New World where people are raised from birth to accept their status quo and to lack curiosity.

The brain simply tends to believe whatever information hits it. Disbelieving takes more effort. We evolved in a world where propaganda wasn’t even a thing, so we’re not equipped for one increasingly awash in falsehood. Especially with authoritarians cunningly exploiting it to cement their rule.

Meantime the authors see the whole AI push as basically undemocratic, again really promoting the interests of a narrow elite — who falsely imagine this serves the general good. Yet oddly, for all their negativity, the authors actually don’t see AI as threatening jobs massively. They don’t even think AI passes the Turing test for “intelligence.” (I’d say that horse has long since left the corral.)

But the Trump response is precisely the wrong one — a fixation on manufacturing is half a century out of date, that’s not our route to a broadly prosperous future. At one time the vast majority of workers were needed in agriculture just to feed ourselves. Greater farm efficiency freed up all those human resources to produce other things. More efficient manufacturing then similarly made workers available in services. AI capabilities will likewise free up vast resources for other uses. Our emphasis should be on finding ways to utilize those resources in different ways.

There’s much teeth-gnashing over what Democrats should stand for. We’re likely to need a new societal dispensation. It’s long been clear government taxes too little and the richest get off too cheap. They can pay far more without harming the economy — and it would be fair, given how they benefit from society. That can pay for a non-dystopian future of broad human flourishing.

Still Life: Stories by David Sylvester

October 7, 2025

At the New York State Writers Institute’s annual book festival, there’s a hall full of authors at tables flogging their work. It felt like entering a den of voracious lions. A phantasmagoria of escalating efforts to entice victims with glitz and razzle-dazzle.

Evoking Ulysses and the sirens as those writers beckoned and wheedled for attention. One affecting young gal latched onto me not with claws but sweetness; I’m not too old to be susceptible. I succumbed to at least peruse her poetry volume, but managed to extricate myself with wallet unopened. I felt bad. However, I did not wish to wallow in her verses about epilepsy.

I had some empathy for all these folks — been there, done that, myself. But I couldn’t compete now, with their gaudily decorated tables, and incandescent smiling.

Then a surprise: David Sylvester. He and his wife had been to our house for dinner only days earlier. With no talk about writing! But there he was, gamely behind a table. A bare-bones display, among all the extravagant ones.

Here I couldn’t demur to buying a book. A slim volume of stories titled Still Life.

Short stories are harder to write than long ones. If they’re any good. Mine never were. The thing about a short story is that the story doesn’t matter much; it’s more how you tell it.

One in the book had a subtext of 9/11, and people who jumped from the towers. Actually conveying a fresh thought: why no helicopters to evacuate them from that roof?

But the book starts (fittingly) with one titled, “The Start of Something.” The premise seems formulaic, depressing even: set in a bar, with a woman having earlier been picked up by Eric at a literary event. She seems pallid next to a female acquaintance of Eric, who turns up and intrudes upon their date.

I loved it.

I’m still reverberating from my own ancient misadventures in that game. Still fascinated by how people negotiate through it.

The story’s title hints that this hook-up will indeed start something. Unless, of course, the title is ironic.

An intriguing initial aspect is the tale being written in the first person — the narrator is the woman (unlike the writer). Is this a kind of “cultural appropriation?” Maybe the woke moral panic over that has thankfully subsided.

Sylvester’s story does not put a word wrong. Now that is really saying something. What I mean is that nothing struck me as being weak, pedestrian, insipid writing. No clichés. Like what’s so typically ubiquitous elsewhere.

And meantime it’s full of lines that crackle wryly. One example: “All my relationships end with, ‘what do you want me to say to you.’ I tell them, but they never say it.” Not an excess word there.

Near the end: “We had both been pretending to be someone else; now only I was.”

And how does it end? Where can it be going? Starting something — really? It felt kind of sad. With even a fingernails-on-blackboard vibe. Right up to the very last line, transfiguring that vibe. Making me smack the page.

What is it like to be a Black? — Reggie Harris

September 30, 2025

Philosopher Thomas Nagel famously wrote on What is it Like to be a Bat? But trying to understand other people is a more deeply felt part of our human nature. I’ve written much about pondering over my own conscious experience, hard enough to fathom. Harder yet trying to imagine being someone else.

I’ve particularly thought about what it’s like being Black. Those are shoes my imagination cannot really walk in. My whiteness does not require much of my attention; but a Black American must be forced to think about race pervasively.

I had an intense conversation about that with Hajira, a student from Somaliland. Where, everyone being Black, it’s just not an issue. Visiting there, I actually felt more conscious of being White. But not of course in the way Black Americans must be conscious of their race, given all the history there and still persisting social dynamics. Without that personal context, even in America Hajira did not similarly feel her Blackness.

Right after, I happened to read a book that was a veritable tutorial on this subject. It’s Searching for Solid Ground, a 2024 memoir by Reggie Harris, of the folk-singing couple Kim and Reggie Harris. I’m no music buff, but I really liked them back in the day, with inspiring songs about the Underground Railroad and resistance to slavery. So I went to Reggie’s talk at the Albany library and bought his book. It’s mainly about his life in music. And — how race infused its every aspect.

Kim and Reggie were never famous, and toured extensively giving performances to make a living. This was past the “Green Book” days when doing that while Black would have been much tougher. The nevertheless disturbing episodes Reggie does relate were small stuff in comparison. Yet, far as we’ve progressed, race was still always there for them in a way it never is for whites. Always a subtext in their minds in their interactions with whites. A constant source of anxiety and unease.

This afflicts Black Americans with an extra dimension of chronic psychological stress, that doesn’t appertain to whites; and it’s a presumptive factor in a poorer overall health picture.

I have written of coming to generally admire Black Americans, as actually superior people. Precisely because of all the shit they’ve had to endure. It’s so much harder being Black than white. I’ve quoted activist Kimberly Jones that we’re lucky Blacks seek only equality, not revenge. And noted how, given our fraught history, I’m often struck by the niceness of Black strangers toward me.

But maybe that’s been naivete. A passage in Harris’s book really hit me: “Like most African American men, I’ve learned many skills that have enabled me to navigate and survive the tricky terrain of being Black in America. These skills include reading people, observing their behavior . . . keeping a low profile, smiling to reduce conflict, and engaging in non-threatening behaviors so as not to offend White people and to promote solidarity.”

Suggesting that the smiles I’ve gotten from Black people may frequently have been a defensive front. I don’t fault this. People do what they feel they must. And anyhow, smiles are better than glares.

* * *

Kim and Reggie Harris were a couple for over forty years. For a dozen of which she helped him through an increasingly horrible illness, culminating in a liver transplant, and his slow recovery. Some years after, they parted ways. I was sad to read that; Harris has little to say about it.

The book ends on a positive note, elaborating on his own personal growth, with regard to race and other life issues. The “turmoil of 2020” looms large, with a scathing string of words to describe the first Trump administration. Which Harris saw us rising past. But his book was finished before the 2024 election, giving us a far bleaker encore. I too had once optimistically seen America rising past historical iniquity. But we’ve gone off course.

Bad People

September 26, 2025

My humanism is human-centered. Most people are good, even ones facing tough lives. It’s why I love humanity.

Empathy is key — feeling for others. In Philip K. Dick’s famous novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, the defining difference between humans and otherwise humanlike androids was empathy.

But some people are exceptions. Recognizing and dealing with those was vital to our early ancestors, living in tight socially cooperative groups, so we evolved detector senses. Unfortunately they’re failing in America — in our politics.

Many demonize all politicians, but that’s not right. Sure, they do have personal motives — ambition, power, fame, greed. That’s just being human. Yet most respect ethical limits in seeking that self-aggrandizement; and seek to do good as well, serving some larger purpose. I myself started in politics spurred by personal ambition, but also idealism.

There have been villains in U.S. history. Benedict Arnold. Roger Taney of Dred Scott infamy. Aaron Burr, who killed Hamilton in a duel, then fell into some bizarre frontier conspiracy, and died a pariah.

But surely American history’s worst villain is the one who attempted a violent coup to overturn an election.

Yet we elected him president again. Bringing in a veritable rogues gallery: Vance, Bondi, Miller, Hegseth, Homan, Noem, Patel, RFK Jr, Stefanik, Rubio, Bove, Gabbard, the list goes on and on.

Some are actually victims of Trump Derangement Syndrome. The real one, seducing people, like moths to a flame, to lose their humanity. Giuliani a prime sad example. Rubio another — to think in 2016 I donated to his campaign. Now things he says make me puke.

A core hallmark of Trump world is dishonesty. Saying “all politicians lie” is also wrong, and serves to enable Trump’s mauling of truth. This nation used to be harshly unforgiving toward politicians caught lying. That was another thing inimical to survival of our ancestral bands, so the cooperative brain software we evolved included lie detectors. Which Trump has disabled.

Republicans called liars shrilly hurl the same taunt at Democrats. Take your pick? Half the country believes one side, half the other. But one side is divorced from reality.

Look at the biggest lie, the 2020 “stolen election.” Devoid of evidence, obviously concocted because Trump’s twisted psyche couldn’t accept losing. Yet Republicans brand this lie on their foreheads.

At least maybe many believe it. While much of their flouting of truth is just cynical. Like the “ballot integrity” crusade, whose real aim is not election fairness but the contrary: to prevent as many non-Republicans as possible from voting.

The deepest dishonesty is telling “forgotten” working class Americans Trump has their backs. While stabbing them there.

And crucially, this regime flunks the empathy test. Cruelty another hallmark. As in the child separation policy; deporting people (many innocent, shorn of legal recourse) to hellhole countries like South Sudan; the war on DEI, really upon human groups they hate. Trump recently told a reporter, “I’m full of hate.” A weird lapse into honesty.

These are bad people.

That half of America refuses to see it is unnerving. Indeed, many almost literally worship this monster. Hard to square with their nominal Christianity. There’s also a bloody-minded nihilism operating, seen in other (otherwise) advanced nations. Some Americans actually love Trump not in spite of his transgressiveness but because of it. (Like some women are attracted to “bad boys.”)

Thus we get sick spectacles like a three-hour cabinet meeting with no agenda but toadies outdoing each other in heaping adulation on the dear leader. Welcome to North Korea. At least the insufficiently obsequious aren’t shot.

Yet.

Subliminal Trump Voting

September 24, 2025

Over a decade, I’ve written 3.2 zillion words trying to explain Trump voters. A third of the electorate — okay, I get it, maybe. But half?

Recently I came upon an article in Skeptical Inquirer, about whether subliminal cues can really influence behavior. A very substantive science-based piece. Some time back there was a moral panic over this — could subliminal messages, particularly in ads, sway us?

This concerns, for example, an image or message flashed so fleetingly one doesn’t consciously register it. But the unconscious does.

Freud, the founder of modern psychology, put great emphasis on the unconscious, seeing much of our behavior rooted there. Like the “Oedipus Complex” — men unconsciously lusting for their mothers. Largely nonsense; it’s now widely believed Freud was blowing smoke about such stuff.

Yet it is true that a lot of our mental work is done unconsciously, with one’s conscious thinking mind like the tip of an iceberg. Psychologist Jonathan Haidt, in The Righteous Mind, likened the conscious self to a rider on an elephant, which is the unconscious. The rider thinks they’re guiding the beast; but mostly it’s going where it wants, and the rider’s job is mainly to make up explanations.

And there’s much scientific evidence for subliminal effects. For example, “priming” or “anchoring.” Make a statement with a number in it. Then ask the subject to estimate some completely unrelated quantity. They tend to estimate higher if the previously quoted number was big rather than small, even though it was strictly irrelevant. It nevertheless primes the subject unconsciously to think in bigger terms.

I particularly noted the article’s discussion of the familiarity effect, not previously on my radar. “Familiarity breeds contempt” is an old saw. Turns out the opposite is true, based again on scientific experiments. Show someone a group of faces — nothing more. Then, in a wholly different context, ask them to judge something between two people — one whose face was in the group, and one not. They tend to instinctively favor the one whose face they’d seen before. Liking that person more, trusting them more. Just that tiny bit of familiarity, below the level of conscious awareness, influences their judgement.

The article observes that when the Eiffel Tower was built, many French thought it ugly and wanted its removal. But over time the familiarity effect kicked in, and with continued exposure to the tower, they grew to love it.

The relevance to Trump support should be obvious. How can so many people disregard so much negative stuff about him? That’s trumped by the familiarity effect. He’s “the devil you know.” In fact, nobody in U.S. history has ever so dominated the public landscape; an unprecedented degree of familiarity. It overwhelmed Harris’s.

He’s always acted as if any attention, no matter whether positive or negative, helps him. Maybe he was on to something.

This factor works in tandem with Americans today having decreased engagement with actual news. A recent poll indicated only 38% pay much attention to it. Most would rather scroll Tiktok. But Trump is so relentlessly visible that he breaks through and people can’t avoid seeing him. Making him so very familiar.

That’s why he can get away with, for example, his Big Bad Bill depriving millions of health care. That’s news that doesn’t register with them. And lacking such clear grounds for evaluating Trump, the familiarity effect has greater scope to operate in their heads. A subliminal factor causing many to support him, without even truly realizing why they do.

He’s the Eiffel Tower of American politics.