The Big Laugh Theory

Still, you have to laugh, don't you, even if it is only at the misfortunes of others. At least that way we get to feel some sort of distance from those very misfortunes. Almost as if the laughter is some charm or ritual that will prevent those same, or similar, things happening to us instead.

Laughter is an odd thing though.

Laughing at the world, and all its slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, shows a greater understanding of the world and its capricious fates and accidents than most – if not all – the philosophers and sages have managed. The world will never make sense and it will trick us, trip us and trap us in hundreds and thousands of ways as we stumble through our lives walking into walls and stepping on discarded garden rakes, as we fall down holes and get hit full in the face by the custard pies of slapstick happenstance.

By way of example, it is obvious that the hassles and tribulations of human sexuality really can only make sense through the use of bawdy humour, the peculiarities of desire and the weirdness of wants are often too absurd for anything but humour.

The dirty joke is what makes us human and makes us aware of the essential silliness and arbitrary absurdity of our existence.

The universe did start with a big bang, but it soon turned into one big joke.

Review: Bad Science – Ben Goldacre

[Non-fiction – Science 2008]

There is the old cliché ‘some books will change your life’ – this book isn’t one of them. However, this book will change the way that you look at a very significant part of the world, specifically the ‘science’ stories in the media, and the claims made by those that inhabit the fringes of science – such as the pedlars of so-called ‘alternative medicine’.

As Goldacre says:

I would go further, and argue that science itself works very badly as a news story: it is by its very nature a subject for the ’features’ section, because it does not generally move ahead by sudden, epoch-making breakthroughs. It moves ahead by gradually emergent themes and theories, supported by a raft of evidence from a number of different disciplines on a number of different explanatory levels. Yet the media remain obsessed with ‘new breakthroughs’.

I suppose a splendid example of this media attitude to science was the recent, well, hysteria might be slightly too strong a word, but certainly the media coverage of the ‘switching on’ of the Large Hadron Collider’ seemed to be rather over the top. Especially as the LHC exists for a series of experiments that will probably take several years to resolve even the questions the scientists want to ask of the experiments they do, let alone the conclusions they eventually draw from them.

The media does though, distort every story it reports on, often by becoming part of the story itself, not just in science reporting, but throughout the news landscape from politics through, economics to wars, famines and the lost cat and ‘grip and grin’ photos in your local free sheet. An example would be the role of the BBC’s Business editor, Robert Peston is the recent credit crunch ho-ha, as to what extent he was merely reporting, or actually creating, the news stories he was involved in.

Human beings, though, do have a – perhaps innate – predilection for stories, for narrative. Therefore, for the media, if a science story can be shoe-horned into a particular narrative structure, then it stands more chance of getting published. Hence the media’s love of the ‘maverick’ story, where one person stands alone against the prevailing consensus or conventional wisdom. One of these tales told by the media was, of course, that of Andrew Wakefield and his – now totally discredited (not that it had much credibility to begin with) – claim that the MMR jab ‘caused’ autism. It has now become clear that the media’s slipshod reporting of this totally-invented ‘controversy’. (A ‘controversy’ is another of the media’s tropes for turning events into narrative, creating drama between the ‘opposing views’ – sometimes you can sense the disappointment when two people brought onto some news programme fail to disagree dramatically enough for the programme-makers.) The result of this promotion of what was – at best - a non-story about some seriously flawed, if not dubious, research has resulted in the return of measles as a serious threat to public health.

As a medical doctor Goldacre does, in this highly entertaining and thought-provoking book, tend to concentrate on health stories rather than science in general, but then so does the mainstream media. He totally destroys what little credibility those on the fringes of medicine, the ‘alternative therapists’, ‘nutritionists’ , homeopaths and others of that ilk have managed to wangle for themselves, mainly through the media’s over-credulous reporting of their scams and shenanigans. It is for this robust debunking of the charlatans and con-artists (sometimes seemingly even conning themselves as much as their punters) that I regard this book as a must-read for everyone. In fact, it would make sense for doctors to prescribe this book for many of their patients – especially the ‘worried-well’, if only for the way Goldacre shares his fascination for the wondrous delights of the placebo effect. In short, go out and get yourself a copy of this marvellous book and read it as soon as you can. In the meantime, Goldacre’s Bad Science website should be a regular port of call for everyone.

Review: In Defence of History – Richard J. Evans

[Non-fiction – History 1997]

The dreary trite pseudo-‘insights’ of post-modernism reappear again; this time with their feeble attempts to turn history into just another ‘text’. However, as Evans so splendidly puts it in this, his robust defence of history:

Auschwitz was not a discourse. It trivializes mass murder to see it as a text. The gas chambers were not a piece of rhetoric. Auschwitz was indeed inherently a tragedy and connate be seen as either a comedy or a farce. And if this is true of Auschwitz, then it must be true at least to some degree of other past happenings, events, institutions, people as well.

History as Evans argues has a long established methodology, which is itself constantly under scrutiny - as this book itself demonstrates by its own existence and its long line of antecedents - for establishing the veracity of historical events and the value of historian’s attempts at explaining the relationship between those events.

As with all other areas where postmodernism has tried to elbow itself into, there is little – if anything – that postmodernism itself can add to history, or history’s self-examination that is not trite, superficial or painstakingly obvious before the weight of postmodernism’s own contradictions smother it’s pseudo-profundities and irrelevances.

Postmodernism et al, of course, grew out of the failure and collapse of Marxism and all the theories and suppositions which had grown from it. Marx’s own idea that history had a purpose (or – at least – discoverable laws) and direction was – of course – destroyed by Popper (among others), and – most tellingly – by the course of history itself.

History does not make the claims that postmodernists accuse it of – of being the absolute truth about past events – and so their destruction of this strawman is not the masterstroke they seem to believe. Historians, and those of us who read their work, know that there is always more to the story than we get from any history book. History is not a science in the strong sense of that word, but it does have a rigorous methodology, enough to make both historians and their readers feel confident that they do get as close to truth as they can within the limitations of history itself. For example, historians are very aware that historical documents are written by fallible human beings, often for a variety of reasons conscious or unconscious and take into account many other factors like the context of the document, the nature of the document and so on. So the postmodernist claim that a document, or ‘text’ as they like to call it, can no longer be regarded as having one fixed meaning which is bestowed upon it by its author at the time of writing. As Evans says, though ‘it is doubtful whether anyone, in fact, has ever believed that meaning can be fixed in this way.’ He also demonstrates the falsehood of po-mo’s claim about the arbitrariness of language, demonstrating that language evolves through contact and interaction with reality, rather than just being about itself. In fact, Evens states ‘…the postmodernist concentration on words diverts attention away from real suffering and oppression and towards the kinds of secondary intellectual issues that matter in the physically comfortable world of academia.’

Of course, a great deal of po-mo – pace Foucault – is rather simplistically obsessed with what they like to see as power relationships between various actors within societies, but, Evans points out, this could be more a case of the po-mo academics themselves trying to claw back some power and influence for themselves. Hence, with postmodernism’s disdain for truth and reality:

The past no longer has the power to confine the researcher within the bounds of facts. Historians and critics are now omnipotent. To underline this, the postmodernists have developed a new level of specialized language and jargon, borrowed largely from literary theory, which has rendered their work opaque to anyone except other postmodernists. The enterprise thus seems not only self-regarding but, ironically in view of its criticism of hierarchy and prioritization, elitist as well. Its narcissism and elitism can both be seen as compensatory mechanisms for the loss of real power, income and status suffered by its academic practitioners over the past ten to fifteen years.

Constantly, throughout this book Evans – like so many other critics of postmodernism in many other areas beyond history – demonstrates that po-mo must always fail because of its inherent contradictions. For example, if all theories are equally valid, then why give any special credence to po-mo, rather than more realist theories? If all knowledge is relative, then why bother believing in po-mo and its practitioners? Why ‘privilege’ postmodernists over anyone else?

Evans, does in the end allow po-mo some limited room in the practice of historical scholarship, but only in terms of the way it makes historians more aware of the limitations of their approach and areas of study, but that is what a good historian should do anyway, it seems.

Anyway, postmodernism is well on the wane now, in areas beyond history. So soon, books like this will become objects of historical curiosity only, like books on or about so many of the ideologies that came promising so much and – in the end – delivered little or nothing of any lasting worth. Just like so many theories, ideologies and other ‘grand narrative’, po-mo became quasi-religious and ended up talking only to itself about itself within constraints that it engendered itself which kept out so much of the awkward reality that cannot be held within those constraints without the whole edifice crumbling to dust.

In Defence of History is a very good, readable, book that ought to be read by more than just historians and those with an interest in how history comes about. It is a strong defence of academic rigour and a warning that, without that rigour -which postmodernism tried so hard to undermine - if the academic, or indeed any, mind is left too open, then anything could crawl in.

Review: The Social Animal - W.G. Runciman

[Non-fiction – Sociology 1998]

Sociology has not yet recovered from the lambasting it received during the late 70s and the 80s when it became obvious that most of its theoretical underpinnings, especially those most influenced by Marxist theory, were at odds with the very natures of the societies sociology itself exists to study. For a long time, until Media Studies came along to take the dubious honour from it Sociology was the butt of that student joke where the graffiti above the toilet roll dispenser states ‘Sociology Degrees Please take One’.

The sociologist soon became a stereotypical character, an out-of-touch academic misunderstanding all that they see and seeing everything as class conflict, exploitation and other such Marxist, post-Marxist or pseudo-Marxist inspired clichés. This – in a way – is a shame as the study of people and their relationships with the rest of society from small groups right up to the nation state and beyond is something well worth studying. As would – incidentally – a proper and rigorous study of the Media and its relationship to society, rather than the simplistic theory-driven pseudo-study that is often passed off as Media Studies in contemporary academia. Runciman himself is very aware of this, stating:

Sociology may be easy to do badly (what isn’t?). But the lesson of its history to date is how hard it is to do well. To sociologists, this should be a challenge rather than a deterrent. But to their readers, it should be a reason to be at the same time sceptical about sociology’s pretensions, charitable about its limitations and discriminating about its achievements.

As Runciman says, Marx was wrong about the inevitability of proletarian revolution in capitalist societies, wrong about the inevitability of revolution in industrial rather than agricultural societies and wrong about the socialist utopias bringing about an end to class conflict. Runciman goes on to state that the only lasting legacy of Marx is the prominence given to ‘class-conflict’ in post-Marxist sociology. But whether that is a benefit or not is very debatable, especially to us non-sociologists.

Runciman goes on to discuss those other ‘greats’ of sociology Weber and Durkheim, finding their concepts of man and society equally as flawed as the Marxist worldview. Runciman argues that neither Weber’s view of history as ‘a process of inexorable ‘rationalisation’ originating in the societies of early modern Europe’, nor Durkeim’s notion that ‘human social behaviour is explicable entirely by the social environment’ as satisfactory.

Neither is he convinced by the followers of Hobbes and Rousseau who argue, in the case of the former that mankind is ‘naturally’ aggressive, warlike and in constant conflict, and in the later that mankind is ‘naturally’ a ‘noble savage’ living in harmony with each other and nature. Runciman instead argues that it is more a case of neither and both, that all societies combine both aggression and co-operation, and so on, as necessary. This is again, another example of where some sociologists have become caricatures of themselves by slavishly following such over-simplifications to the point of absurdity. Runciman is therefore correct to call for the discipline to move beyond such narrow ways of thinking.

However, Ruciman’s neo-evolutionary theory is very distinct from the old and discredited notions of the so-called ‘social-Darwinists’. They put the varying successes of different societies down to genetic differences between the ‘races’, which is patently absurd as the genetic differences that there are between the different so-called ‘races’ are so minor and insignificant that they cannot be seriously considered as an explanation for the relative qualities of societies at all.

Runciman’s argument, therefore, is that societies, just like living creatures must adapt to their environment and to changing circumstances, otherwise they will become extinct. There are, of course, several examples which could support this thesis, such as: the fall of the USSR and Eastern block countries when it became obvious they could no longer continue, the gradual change of China away from communism, the stagnation of North Korea, the civilisation of Easter Island collapsing and leaving behind those enigmatic statues, the Vikings failing to cope with the change of climate in Greenland, the fall of the Roman Empire and many more.

This neo-evolutionary approach to human societies is a very intriguing idea, especially now that Marxism et al are such spent forces, and the - in general – left-wing (for want of a better description) notions that have underpinned so much of sociological theory have proved - at best – ineffectual, and often counterproductive, if not downright dangerous. Therefore it is now necessary that we look for some better way of understanding societies. It is just a pity that this book only scratches the surface of the idea, serving more as an introduction to the notion of neo-evolutionary social theory rather than being more of an in-depth study of societies through that lens. Nevertheless, The Social Animal is still a very interesting and intriguing read for those interested in the nature of human societies.

Review: Harvest of the Sixties - Patricia Waugh

 

By the seventies it was evident too that economic divisions were not the only barriers to a common culture and that other distinctions of race, gender, ethnicity, age, and region would be articulated forcibly in the eighties, bringing with them the recognition that identity is not determined through labour alone.

Such recognitions produced something of a crisis in the teaching and study of literature, for, in the new world of multicultural difference, to insist on the superiority of one variety of culture was to invite accusations of elitism, ethnocentricity, sexism, racism or class authoritarianism.

[….]

Increasingly after the mid-seventies, the concept of representative democracy was to come under strain as more and more social groups claimed the right to speak for themselves within their own terms and with their own distinctive voices. The idea that ‘great literature’ is great because it speaks for all would be attacked from a variety of new positions.

There, from the conclusion to this book – in a nutshell – we have the reasons why the study of Literature, especially in the US and UK hit a crisis period from – say – around the mid-1980s from which it yet has to fully recover. One of the main reasons for the decline of academic literary criticism into its current moribund irrelevance is – of course – post-modernism, a stance that this book, mostly, shares and promotes.

Although, in Waugh’s defence, I must say there is not too much of the polysyllabic babbling that made post-modernism into nothing more than its own parody. Po-mo created a situation where modern lit crit was lost and rudderless in the doldrums of its own sea of ‘ism’ and ‘significances’. A place where the merit of a work was calculated by the number of PC boxes it ticked on the academy’s list of right-on attitudes and ideas, and the number of worthy causes the academy currently decreed as worthy of its support.

There is too, a disappointing amount of evidence to support that other great criticism of Po-Mo, the way that its adherents – and in this book Waugh is typical of the species – indulge in an almost gleeful misunderstanding of science, and the fervour with which they indulge in misapplications of those scientific principles to literature and society. Presumably, this is done in an attempt to shore up the trite and obvious banality of post-modern ‘insights’ with a spurious and appropriated ‘scientific’ authority. Ironically, an authority that the vapid concoction of post-modernity denies to all ‘grand theories’, except – of course – itself.

Post-modernism, like all recent academic fashions in the humanities, social sciences et al is a product and creature of the Left. The Left worldview has a problem with literature: novels, poetry, plays and so forth are all the products – at least initially – of the individual mind. An individual mind thinking freely, beyond the bounds of what the Left allows its adherents to think and/or believe (hence the vigour with which correct though – Politically Correct – thought is policed) can be a dangerous beast.

The Left is collectivist and can therefore only see literature as a tool for representing groups such as the Left’s currently favourite victim groups: women, ‘other races’, the poor, the ‘dispossessed’ and ‘marginalised’ and so forth. Or, as representing the Left’s enemies such as conservatives and others who defend – despite its obvious faults – the current social order and do not wish its destruction and replacement with something that is almost bound to be worse. For example, a woman writer must be pro-feminist – good or anti-feminist – bad. She is not allowed to be both or neither, or – indeed – anything else that goes beyond these patronising labels to create the fully-rounded human being. Just as a black writer must write about the ‘black experience’ or run the risk of being labelled a traitor to the cause.

For when ‘the personal is political’ then the personal – the individual – is subsumed into the collective – the political and thereby ceases to be an individual, becoming a mere statistic.

So, in consequence, turning to a book like this to learn about English literature from the 1960s to the 1990s will, unfortunately, tell you very little about the literature itself, but rather more than you would wish to know about how various special interest groupings have interpreted and used that literature for their –often almost propagandist – purposes. This, again, shows the intellectual aridity of the Left worldview that sees things like the arts – if not elitist and therefore to be condemned outright as tools of the oppressors – as merely instrumentalist tools for the inculcation of correct views into the populace.

Review: All in the Mind: A Farewell to God by Ludovic Kennedy

The notion explored in this often fascinating book by the famous broadcaster, Ludovic Kennedy, is that rather than the religious notion that man was created by god, rather it is god that was created by man. I must say – at the outset – that this is a view that I share and consequently I found much to agree with in Kennedy’s – necessarily brief – romp through the history of human religious ‘thought’ from early mythologies and through the history of the Christian religion in the west.

I suppose one of the few faults I find in the book is the concentration on the Christian religion at the expense of other religions, but then it is Christianity that has helped shaped western thought to a far, far, greater extent than any of the other current religions.

However, the period of the church’s greatest influence was also a period of almost stagnation in the intellectual life of the west – a period which later became known as the Dark Ages. It was only when the church’s power and influence was challenged, questioned and finally broken from the Reformation on through the Enlightenment and the rise of science, humanism and rationality that mankind was then able to take the great strides it has done over the following centuries.

Probably the best part of the book for me is the last third where Kennedy sketches the rise of atheism from Sozzini, d’Hobach, through Hume and Paine and on to Darwin and evolution. Then – post-Darwin – the rapid growth in atheism from that point on to the present day where religions – despite their increasingly frantic rearguard actions continue their inexorable decline into irrelevance as mankind leaves behind its superstitious childhood at last.

Kennedy concludes that he finds spirituality, the numinous and al those other consolations that religion is supposed to find in nature and in art. Here, in addition, I would come down on the side of Kennedy, but also adding Richard Dawkins contention that science does far more to aid our understanding of the universe and our appreciation of its beauty to a far greater extent than religion ever could. All in all, then, All In The Mind is an excellent book, one that I highly recommend.