The Treeline by Ben Rawlence

 

I liked the idea of this book and the mixture of anthropology, science, and travelogue did make it readable and fun. However, this book strikes me as a good example of why many people dislike conversations about climate change and global warming.

The author wants to make people feel guilty while being vulnerable himself to criticisms of hypocrisy. The author asks, “How did it ever come to pass that we would forget the names of thee living things that manufactured oxygen, purified the air and water?” (266). Elsewhere he describes the sound of a melting glacier in Greenland as “the sound of guilt” (254). How are readers to respond to these excerpts? Perhaps they will respond by reflecting in sorrow and afflicting their souls in a modern, environmentalist version of Yom Kippur (see Leviticus 16:29). Some readers might just blame the unenlightened or the greedy who fail to vote the right way or make the needed sacrifices. Other readers might lash out: why does this guy who travels all around the Arctic circle in planes and cars get to tell us what to do? He never addresses the issue and offers no justification.

Some of the commentary about indigenous peoples feels unnuanced and lacking in evidence. For example, the author writes that “a First Nations person is never lost in nature,” which feels like rank stereotyping that is unlikely to be true (189). Of two Saami women who work in town, he writes, “They may be good at their jobs, take pride in their work even, but their soul is not in the town. It is out there, in the hills, running free with the reindeer” (67). The author paternalistically insinuates that those with the “winged blood of the nomad” (i.e., members of certain indigenous groups) would be better off eschewing certain jobs or lifestyles so that they can live traditionally (51).

Environmentalism (or to be more specific, limiting Climate Change) has a major PR/marketing problem, and this book is a good example why.

Takamitsu Muraoka: My Via Dolorosa

 My Via Dolorasa: Along the Trails of Japanese Imperialism in Asia documents a kind of pilgrimage by Japanese biblical scholar Takamitsu Muraoka in which he and his wife visit countries that Japan occupied and abused during World War II, and offers, free classes on ancient biblical languages as a kind of penance for his country’s sins. The author, whose father was an official in China during WWII, visits Taiwan, Korea, Singapore, Indonesia, the Philippines, Hong Kong, China, Thailand, Myanmar, Malaysia, all of which were at least partially occupied during the war.

The book was quite repetitive at times, but nevertheless provided interesting insight into World War II history in Asia and heated Japanese political issues, such as postwar militarization and what Japan owes to “comfort women”.

One ironic aspect of the book was that the Japanese author is more concerned about Japanese war crimes than are many civilians of formerly occupied countries. For example, a Korean student asks him, “The recent years have seen quite a few Japanese pastors visiting Korea and apologizing for Japanese colonial rule. Don’t you think, sir, that it is now time for us to look forward and endeavour to build a better future?” A Taiwanese women tells him, “We’ve decided to forget that dark past.” Many of the people who lived under Japanese occupation don’t want to talk about it, so the younger generations grow up ignorant of the history. I agree with the author that the author that this history should not be forgotten, but I think it is awkward and perhaps even condescending how the author sometimes seems to be telling victims or descendants of victims how to think about the occupation.

Another interesting aspect of the book is the mix of memories that people in formerly occupied countries have about Japanese occupation. Some Taiwanese people are described as having preferred Japanese occupation to Chiang Kai Shek’s rule and as being appreciate of Japanese infrastructure in their country. In contrast, one Indonesian teacher tells the author that the three and half years under Japanese occupation was more terrible than the 350-year-long Dutch colonization.

America's Choice by Tad Callister

The thesis of Tad Callister’s America’s Choice is that “God has expressed His will on critical moral issues facing our nation today” and we should choose to follow God’s will (312). Some of the issues addressed in the book include the founding of America, abortion, gay marriage, population decline, judicial philosophy (Originalism v. Living Document), religious liberty, socialism v. capitalism, and family. The author mentions other issues too: he documents the anti-free speech trend on college campuses (241), complains about the lack of respect that many give to the flag and to the national anthem (291-292), complains about “politically correct” rules about what someone can wear on Halloween (301), complains about how the Social Security office is poorly run (244-245), and documents poorly spent tax money (303).  In every single issue covered in the book that I can think of, Tad Callister argues for the position currently associated with “conservative” politics in the U.S.

Sometimes I found his arguments compelling, and in other instances, I found his analysis lacking. My biggest issue with the book, though, was the tone.

In one of the last chapters of the book called Where are the Statesmen of Yesterday, Tad Callister approvingly quotes Benjamin Franklin,

I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. I even forbid myself … the use of every work or expression in the language that imported a fixed opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc., and I adopted, instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When another asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seemed to me some difference, etc. (298).

I really like this quote! The author does not follow this advice. I felt that the author sometimes didn’t understand opposing viewpoints well and engaged in dismissive labeling. Members of the Church typically express (and are encouraged to express) certainty on many issues. I think that this culture of certainty can be an impediment to the kind of intellectual (or at least conversational) humility that Benjamin Franklin articulated. Members of the church do accept key commitments and beliefs, such as belief in God and willingness to follow Jesus Christ, but our certainty about these core ideas sometimes bleeds over into certainty about other, more tangential ideas. I fear that this tendency affects America’s Choice. Because of the author’s consistently certain tone, the line what the author believes to be God’s will and what the author’s argument is not always clear.

The church holds conservative stances on abortion, marriage, and gender issues. But the church is officially politically neutral, and church leaders do not articulate positions on most political issues. I have never heard a church leader articulate a view on Halloween costumes or respect to the flag or most of the issues discussed in America’s Choice. (Interestingly, this is a bit of a change, as it was more common back in the day for church leaders to articulate opinions on political issues).

Among current prominent church leaders, President Dallin Oaks has been most willing to comment on political happenings. While he is known for his conservative commentary, in the recent past, he has struck a more tone that is more moderated and more consistent with Benjamin Franklin’s quote than the author’s. For example, in the last few years, President Oaks has:

•  Quoted J. Reuben Clark that the Constitution was not “a fully grown document” but rather “we believe it must grow and develop to meet the changing needs of advancing world"
• Encouraged members to “refrain from judging one another in political matters"
• Insisted “that political choices and affiliations not be the subject of teachings or advocacy in any . . . Church meetings”
• Acknowledged the need to change political parties occasionally
• Told members to “peacefully accept the results of elections” and not to “participate in violence threatened by those disappointed with the outcome”
• Encouraged members to root out racism
• Counseled members to “be positive about this nation’s future”
• Told members that “On contested issues, we should seek to moderate and unify”
• Encouraged members to love our enemies, including political enemies

I prefer President Oaks’ tone.

Thoughts on Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn's Tightrope

 

The picture of low-income America that Kristof and WuDunn paint is a bleak one. I’ve seen quite a few GDP over time graphs, and GDP always seems to be going up. Every time I’ve put money in the stock market, it increases over the long run, so I’ve assumed that the economy in America has continued to improve. The total pie has grown, but real wages and overall wealth have actually decreased for hourly and other non-salaried workers since the 1970s (33). The number of men aged 25 to 54 who do not have a job but aren’t looking for a job (and therefore don’t appear in unemployment statistics) has quintupled since the 1950s (34)[1]. The authors suggest that the decrease in good career opportunities for the poor is the root cause to a host of other problems: the poor in America have a “life expectancy similar to that of Mongolia, a homicide rate higher than in Rwanda, and an incarceration rate that is the highest in the world” (226).

Like J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy and Tara Westover’s Educated, the book portrays life in poor and rural communities in America for a mainstream (or should I say wealthy?) audience. Tightrope lacks the “THIS-IS-NUTS!” appeal of Educated and Hillbilly Elegy, but it offers the most complete picture of poverty in America of the three.  

There is a tension in Tightrope: many of the poor in America believe that their problems are self-inflicted, yet the authors see policy, business and cultural failures that led to these problems. For example, the authors tell the story of a veteran, Daniel. While serving in the military, Daniel was badly wounded in Afghanistan and then was prescribed painkillers. He became addicted to the painkillers, and when a new doctor reduced his prescription, he couldn’t stand it and started heroin. The authors asked him who “he blames for his addiction.” Daniel responds, “I blame myself . . . At any point, I could have said, I don’t want to do this . . . I chose to do this.” The authors comment,

At one level, it may be useful for Daniel to blame himself. Grassroots addiction programs emphasize that participants must take responsibility for their own actions, never making excuses, because patients have better outcomes when they accept this mantra of personal responsibility. . . .

Yet in a larger sense, Daniel was unfair to himself. . . By official estimates, 2.1 million Americans suffer opioid addiction. . . When so many Americans simultaneously make the same bad choice, that should be a clue that the problem is not simply individual moral failure. . . .

Here’s one way of looking at what happened: Daniel was injured on the job, and then doctors in and out of the military prescribed highly addictive opioids that got him hooked. . . . (80).

The authors’ analysis is persuasive, but sometimes the gap between what the poor themselves say and the authors’ analysis was a little striking.[2] This tension reflects a weird irony in America where sometimes rich people are more supportive of government help for the poor than poor people are. The authors explain this by saying that “the working poor are disdainful of government benefits, even though they sometimes rely on them, partly because they often see firsthand how neighbors abuse those benefits” (70). The authors include an anecdote involving a woman who uses her pit bull to deter repossession teams from grabbing furniture and televisions that haven’t been paid for and government officials from shutting off electricity.

In documenting “interventions that work,” the authors refuse to pick a side of the private charity vs. governmental safety net debate, saying that we need more of both.[3] The authors respond to conservative austerity in poverty-combating measures by saying that effective policy will pay for itself: “a dollar invested in addiction treatment programs saves $12 in reduced crime and court costs, plus health-care savings” (96).   

As a religious person, I was interested to see how WuDunn and Kristof talk about religion’s role in the lives of the working poor, as my sense is that religion plays a much bigger role in the lives of the poor than the wealthy in America. The authors’ tone is skeptic when they mention a minister who “says she can lay hands on people and cure them of cancer” (99), but generally, they acknowledge the positive power that religion has in poor communities in the U.S.

Many of the families highlighted who grew up in poor America but managed to improve their lives are deeply religious and credit their religion as their escape. Edward and Mary Davis raised 17 kids in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, a predominately African-American city with a per capita income of $18,500 (194). After Edward was injured on the job and left work, Mary was the sole provider for her 17 kids. “[A]ll graduated from high school and studied in college or went into the military” (194). The children mentioned earn high GPAs, get good jobs, and buy their own homes. What was their secret to success? Mary says, “I serve a true and living God and He is my source. He is my provider and if I didn’t serve Him, if I didn’t believe in God, I wouldn’t have made it” (195). 

When Tani, the homeless boy who won a state chess championship, was gifted a home and $250,000 by Nick Kristof’s readers, the family paid tithing to their church on the income and then gave the rest of the money away to other families, citing their gratitude to God as the cause of their generosity. Mormons[4] get a shoutout for achieving good outcomes in locations where others struggled (170).

Reading Tightrope, I did sense that Kristof and WuDunn are good people, trying to help solve problems that desperately need solving. They seem eager to report what actually helps even as that contradicts simple, highly partisan narratives. The book can be heavy at times, but it was also inspiring to learn about all the generosity and initiatives that are at work today in America. I highly recommend Tightrope.

 

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[1] Maybe increased numbers of older graduate students and/or increased number of stay-at-home dads are part of the explanation?

[2] See also page 105.

[3] However, it does feel like more of the examples from the book of people getting effective help in challenging circumstances came from help from private charities

[4] Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

Terryl Givens' Wrestling the Angel and Feeding the Flock

 

Terryl Givens’ Wrestling the Angel and Feeding the Flock are an investigation of “the essentials of Mormon teaching” in the historical and theological context of Western Christianity (WTA, xi). Given the church’s restorationist claims, such an investigation can bring up uncomfortable questions: if the doctrines of the church are simply a mashup of beliefs that circulated Joseph Smith’s environment, can the church’s narrative of a long apostasy and restoration really be true?

Sometimes, our beliefs are not as unique as I have thought they are.

The famous verse of “O My Father” written by Eliza R. Snow that references Heavenly Mother has rhetorical similarities in a Shaker preacher’s poem:

To whom does woman owe her birth?

Did she originate

From nothing but her mother earth,

In her primeval state?

Can any one suppose she was,

From Adam’s rib alone,

Without a corresponding cause,

From the eternal throne?

The Church’s teachings on spiritual gifts and miracles seem somewhat consistent with Joseph Smith’s peers’ teachings. Early Protestant thinkers were skeptical of Catholic claims of miracles, relics, exorcisms, and visions. Spiritual gifts therefore were not part of many early Protestant churches. The Second Great Awakening in America was characterized by a rejection of this early Protestant tendency, and Shakers, Methodists, and Presbyterians had dramatic manifestations of spiritual gifts. Mormonism’s embrace of spiritual gifts actually seems restrained when compared to its early American context.              

Joseph’s revelation on the kingdoms of glory contradicted the then common notion that “hell was . . . a more popular venue than heaven” (WTA, 241). But Joseph was not alone in this countercultural crusade; in fact, some of his notions align with Universalist teachings, which Joseph would have been exposed to through his paternal line (his grandfather Asael was a Universalist). The Universalist Charles Beecher (of legendary Beecher family fame!) taught that “the offers of salvation are made to men after death” and that “God, to affect men, overstates the reality of future punishment” (WTA, 245). These statements align with what is taught in Doctrine and Covenants (see Doctrine and Covenants 138:28-32, and Doctrine and Covenants 19:4-12).

Where Joseph does vary from Universalists is in his emphasis on ordinances and priesthood. Vicarious ordinances for the dead were practiced in the 2^nd century and then by a short-lived 300-person eccentric religious community in the 18^th century in Pennsylvania before the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints began the practice (FTF, 163). Given the strong anti-Catholic sentiments of Joseph’s environment, this was an unpopular development, but the concept of priesthood is deeply embedded in Joseph’s early revelations (see Joseph Smith History 1:38). Authors and preachers would demean Mormonism and Catholicism in the same breath.

Givens portrays Mormon doctrine on the fall of Adam and Eve as quite unique in Christianity. There was a tradition of a “fortunate fall,” but, as Givens writes, “the fall is fortunate insofar as the human sin of infinite hubris called forth the unspeakable gift of Christ’s infinite grace . . . The fall is divinely mitigated disaster, but it is first and foremost a disaster. Not so in Mormonism . . .  The fall itself is fortunate, insofar as it unleashes not the triple scepter of sin, death, and depravity but the possibilities of human incarnation and the educative processes of mortality” (WTA 184-185). In Joseph’s retelling of Adam and Eve, both Adam and Eve look back on the partaking of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil and their expulsion from Eden as a positive development for humankind (Moses 5:10-11).

Givens does not use his research to comment on the church’s narrative of apostasy and restoration. That allows space for the reader to consider an overview of Christian teaching alongside teachings of the Church and reach their own conclusions, but it does mean that the books lack a central argument that might make the books more readable. Seeing Joseph Smith’s ability to draw from different aspects of his environment, go against popular opinion, and articulate doctrines that were innovative or had been dormant for hundreds of years did reinforce my belief that he was a remarkable and inspired man. As Wrestling the Angel and Feeding the Flock are dense, not plot or argument-driven books, it may be difficult to read them through. However, these books are thorough and encyclopedic in their overview of Mormon teaching and would be highly valuable on a consult-by-topic basis, and I anticipate referencing them again.

Review of Omnivore's Dilemma

I avoided this book for a while because I was expecting it to be a heavy and depressing read. Perhaps it was in spots, but Pollan's writing kept me entertained and upbeat throughout. His writing can be quite inventive and creative.

For example, Pollan writes of Joel Salatin's farm: "What had been cow manure and woodchips just a few weeks before now smelled as sweet and warm as the forest floor in summertime, a miracle of transubstantiation" (209).

Concerning Iowa, Pollan writes, "Iowa begins to look a little different when you think of its sprawling fields as cities of corn, the land, in its own way, settled as densely as Manhattan for the very same purpose: to maximize real estate values. . . . Though by any reasonable definition Iowa is a rural state, it is more thoroughly developed than many cities: A mere 2 percent of the state's land remains what it used to be" (38).

The Omnivore's Dilemma includes a brief discussion of animal rights, complete with email exchanges with animal rights philosopher Peter Singer. Pollan seems to critique vegan ethics in his observation that "the very existence of predation in nature, of animals eating animals, is the cause of much anguished hand-wringing in the animal right literature" (321). He points out that "one of the ironies of animal rights" is that "it asks us to acknowledge all we share with animals, and then to act toward them in a most unanimalistic way" (315). Pollan doesn't end this discussion with "do's" and "dont's", but he seems to suggest that killing animals to eat is permissible, but eating Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO)-produced meat may not be.

Pollan succeeded in making this reader want to be more observant of and grateful for my food, and more supportive of CAFO alternatives.

Review of Good Economics for Hard Times

 

David Brooks, in his scathing review of modern economics, writes, “Economics achieved coherence as a science by amputating most of human nature.” Throughout Good Economics for Hard Times, Esther Duflo and Abhijit Banjeree show awareness of this critique, and consistently bring up non-financial incentives that motivate human behavior. For example, the authors emphasize the dignity (rather than just cash) that comes from holding a job with meaning and conclude that the reason why fewer people emigrate towards higher paying jobs than one might expect is because moving is difficult for social and emotional reasons.  

In their discussions of poverty, global warming, and changing industries, the authors frequently recommend government interventions and programs as part of the solution. However, Duflo and Banjeree admit that government often faces an image problem where there is assumed corruption and waste which interferes with the government’s ability to help. (Interestingly, the perception of the government as corrupt varies greatly from country to country; the authors mention interesting research that Danes who were reminded of the fact that they were hoping for a government job proved to be more honest than the average Dane, but Indians who were reminded of the fact that they had the same goal were less honest than the average Indian). Duflo and Banjeree concede that corruption and waste plague governments, but also assert that many of the services that governments do and should perform are not easily replaceable in the private sector: “To demonstrate waste in government, one needs to show there is an alternative way to organizing the same activity that works better” (268).

One of the central ideas of Good Economics for Hard Times is that—contrary to Reagan’s portrayals—the poor throughout the world can generally be trusted to spend their money wisely. As such, it isn’t surprising that the authors discuss UBI (Universal Basic Income). They do not like the idea of UBI “as a way to buy off those who will be made unproductive by the new economy and won’t be able to find work” as they find the dignity associated with working to be essential to human satisfaction (298). As such, they ultimately do not endorse UBI in the United States. However, they do offer their support for UUBI (Universal Ultra Basic Income) in developing countries. However, their idea of funding UUBI is not very fleshed out: they simply propose that UUBI could replace all existing social programs in developing countries. This feels like a politically impossible idea.

This is one example of a place in the book where the discussion is not very thorough; in places, the authors sacrificed depth for breadth in ways that were unsatisfying. There also were some potentially unresolved tensions in the book which I would have liked to have been addressed: the authors bring up the fact that people tend to spend large amounts of free time in ways that make them miserable (301), but also denounce paternalistic policies such as giving the poor food stamps rather than cash (100). It seems to me that if people really do not know how to spend free time in ways that make them satisfied, then the same may be true for money, and that policy “nudges” sometimes would be justified.