Unshakable Love in “Seinfeld”

The success of the TV series Seinfeld was powered, at least in part, by love … even though the series was not ostensibly about that. Love, as the four friends in Seinfeld often vainly pursued it, was understood to be found in a “couple” – something that none of them managed to have for very long. In one episode (or was it many episodes?), I recall Jerry and George lamenting their inability to get married, seeing it as a sign of their own immaturity. These two friends often displayed and reveled in childlike behavior (arguments about Superman, for ex.), which became a visible sign of their being totally unprepared for responsibilities of becoming somebody’s significant other.

The writers of the show must have been very aware of the comic distance between the cast members’ failed aspirations to “couple-hood” and the serious issue of truly loving others. The show explored this distance because the writers knew that love was a serious and worthy goal of human interactions – valued by the characters in the TV series as well as the people who watched it. Many of the funny moments in the show focused on the characters’ inability to make the circle of their self-preoccupation wide enough to truly take the time to care about (and adjust to) the needs of potential partners.

But viewers would have never enjoyed the show if they didn’t sense some admirable quality in the foursome. That quality was an unshakable love, trust and loyalty to one another. What they could not extend to the world outside their circle, they offered in abundance to one another. And while they didn’t perhaps achieve the intimacy they would have had in a healthy relationship that included sex, their unspoken and implicit trust in one another glued them together with amazing amounts of trust. Of course they didn’t often “trust” that one of their friends could follow through with a promise or a goal (like George’s aspiration to be an architect), but they never questioned each other’s sincerity (George sincerely would have loved to have been an architect). This was THE feature of the show that allowed the characters to explore so many interesting topics often left unexplored in other TV sitcoms (like masturbation).

The love of the characters for one another was so steady that they often chose friendship over sex. One of the funniest instances of this theme occurred in season 4, episode 16, when George was trying to break up with a girlfriend without hurting her feelings. The answer? George would pretend that he was gay. Acting impulsively on this idea, George took his girlfriend to Jerry’s apartment without notice in the hopes that Jerry would confirm that he and George were a “couple.” Unfortunately, George barges in to Jerry’s apartment to find him passionately kissing – you guessed it – a woman! When Jerry’s date leaves quickly thereafter, he summarizes the situation to George, saying, “You stupid idiot.”

But what may be more amazing in this scene is that the friends’ relationship was so close that George never hesitated in launching this hair-brained scheme in the first place. And it turns out that George’s trust in Jerry was well founded. While Jerry was understandably upset about losing the attention of a beautiful woman, he quickly resigned himself to a situation dictated by his love for George: my friend does stupid things, but that’s how he is and I won’t rupture that friendship because he does crazy things sometimes without consulting me. Seinfeld indulged George's caprice even though (as he explained very well in his own standup routines), having a woman is the one thing that men know that they want! (a)

In some ways, one might think that the selfish or cowardly way the Seinfeld characters acted with people outside their circle is how people really treat each other in most circumstances in the real world. The truly unconditional friendship (aka, “love”) that the characters demonstrated day-in and day-out – allowing them to stay together no matter what else was rocking their world – is the real exception. The skeptic could rightfully ask, “Could there actually be such a group of loyal friends in normal, everyday life? Could there be such love extended and offered to people with whom we also have continuous personality conflicts and disagreements?” If viewers haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing a similar generosity and acceptance with their own friends, the show’s popularity suggests that this kind of relationship is something that many of us truly hope for.



a) “Men are not subtle - men are obvious. Women know what men want. Men know what men want. What do we want? We want women! It's the only thing we know for sure: we want women! How do we get women? Oh, we don't know that. The next step after that we have no idea.”

Objectivity Is Dead; Long-live Transparency and Fairness!

What’s wrong with objectivity? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the desire to be objective … except, strictly speaking, that it’s an impossible ideal for any human being to obtain. While objectivity is a very noble aspiration, its impossibility has at least partially enabled people to exploit a fatal weakness of the objective stance, which goes like this: “Since everybody has a point of view, the choice of facts one may use to bolster an argument is always undermined by potential bias. Facts, actually, don’t carry as much weight as we had thought. Interpretation, therefore, is as important as facts – maybe even more important.”

This recently popular argument has replaced a flawed idea (objectivity is possible) with a fatal one (all opinions merit equal consideration). If we can’t agree on facts and only throw opinions at one another, we can’t solve problems. What has enabled and energized the advocates of “interpretation over facts” is the potential pretentiousness of objectivity. This pretense strikes many people as the worst version of Ivy League snobbery (which goes against Americans’ egalitarian sentiments): “You say I must agree with you because you know more than me about X. But even if you know more about X, what you say still carries a bias. Therefore, you’re not persuasive.”

Providing more fuel for today’s furious debate concerning interpretation vs. facts is the lingering specter of objectivity that has shaped our habits of mind over decades if not centuries. While it is true that few people would venture to say that they’re completely objective, many polemics are constructed as if objectivity were still possible. That goes both for CNN (“facts matter,” objectively speaking) and Donald Trump (CNN’s reporting is “fake news,” which is fake because it violates the standards of objectivity). Simultaneously believing and not believing in objectivity is a truly confusing state of mind.

Trump’s scrambling of the nation’s trust in facts by lofting the accusation of “fake news” at any conclusion he disagrees with seems to be a universe apart from a figure who dominated the news 50 years ago, Walter Cronkite. In fact, Walter Cronkite’s famous “objective” sign-off on CBS News in the 1960s, “That’s the way it is,” seems to be have nothing in common with Trump’s deliberate confusion of reality and make-believe. Reflecting on this huge disparity, you may ask yourself, “How did we ever get to this point?”

Well, it turns out that there is a connection between the two stances because both figures undercut our belief in objectivity … but in different ways, of course. This connection between Trump and Cronkite can be understood by watching a famous February 27, 1968 broadcast on CBS news when Walter Cronkite came out against the Vietnam War. Looking in the historical rear-view mirror, this was a conclusion I heartily agree with, but not because it was objective. In fact, the obvious subjectivity of his public pronouncement was a major change for Cronkite and caused deep personal turmoil for him. Here was a man who had built his national reputation and influence on the bedrock assumption (that he and many viewers shared) that he was and would always remain an impartial observer. When he made his statement against continuing the US battle in Vietnam, it was obvious that this was, in the end, his opinion. (It was a very informed opinion, but an opinion nonetheless.) Afterwards, viewers might have asked themselves, could Cronkite ever be objective again? The truth was, he had never really been completely objective in the first place. Although much of the public reacted with shock, it was mainly due to their belief in the impossibly “objective” journalist. (Just in case you’re wondering, Trump undercuts “objectivity” today by insisting that few people are trustworthy.)

It turns out that no journalist can be truly objective, but that’s ok (i.e., subjectivity doesn’t make something “fake”). Let’s reconcile ourselves to some of the limitations of our humanity. Our experiences create a point-of-view concerning what happens around us which we can’t escape from completely. That doesn’t mean we all are living in our own private fantasy worlds (present president excluded). But because we are social beings and normally value the point of view of others (or at least take that view into account if we want to persuade others), we often try to be “fair,” meaning purposely not avoiding facts and ideas that challenge our point of view. (In contrast, the attempt to persuade others without valuing their point of view is often known as either “manipulation,” “bullying” or “threatening.”)

A way out of the objectivity trap is to make a compromise between the impossible (but laudable) ideal of objectivity and the much more attainable goal of fairness. That compromise is transparency, meaning being completely open and honest about how we come to a conclusion.

So, in the spirit (but not the letter) of objectivity’s quest for truth, I’ll make a pretty wild claim: let’s give up on objectivity and replace it with its cousin, transparency. And when a dispute arises as to when a particular conclusion or interpretation is more reasonable and compelling, let’s agree to have an open debate and a friendly contest over who has amassed the best facts as well as the best interpretation of those facts. (Many would recognize this as “the scientific method,” but we can only return to it confidently in today’s public sphere when people aren’t too surprised by the reality that scientists are also people with individual points of view.)

For complex problems in particular, we often turn to professionals because it takes time and intellectual effort to figure out difficult problems of narrow scope (like a coronavirus vaccine). If somebody like Trump “hears” that another remedy to the present pandemic might do the trick more quickly (like bleach), it’s not enough for him to assert, “Some smart people said…” or “I don’t agree with the point of view of the scientists.” To be taken seriously, he should have to say, “Here are the facts and the reasoning about those facts that brought me to this different conclusion.” Trump usually does the opposite: he starts with a conclusion and then makes up or selectively chooses facts to support it.

Trump often uses a shorthand (“many people are saying”) to pretend that there are real facts and sound reasons for his opinions – providing a wafer-thin shield against the charge of his being “biased.” That’s hardly a defensible position. Without facts and only opinion, you’re left with nothing in reality to defend! If people have an argument about opinions concerning a group of facts, let’s examine those facts as well as the reasoning used to interpret them. But if there aren’t specific facts forming the basis for reasons to come to a conclusion, simply pointing to “many people” as a substitute for facts doesn’t even allow you (in all fairness) into the debate.

In short, if simply pointing to facts is not enough to persuade others, having reasons while pretending to have facts to support them is far more laughably insufficient. Let’s not let our hangover with objectivity distract us from the woefully inadequate basis for the opinions emanating from the White House today. Instead, let’s demand conclusions based on the scientific method conducted by imperfect but honorable human beings with training and track records demonstrating that they are competent and trustworthy.

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Sources:

Definition of Objectivity: Objectivity is generally understood as the quality of individual’s reason that is “not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing fact.” See “Objective,” Lexico, https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/objective, accessed May 2020.

On Walter Cronkite and the Vietnam War: Joel Achenbach, “Did the news media, led by Walter Cronkite, lose the war in Vietnam?” The Washington Post, May 25, 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/did-the-news-media-led-by-walter-cronkite-lose-the-war-in-vietnam/2018/05/25/a5b3e098-495e-11e8-827e-190efaf1f1ee_story.html, accessed May 2020.

Peering Over the Partisan Divide: The Problem of Contempt

People like myself who are (admittedly) virulently anti-Trump often look at Trump supporters and think, “they’re crazy.” My good friends don’t need much more convincing than that to agree with me. But it’s instructive to take the time to talk to the people I’ve sometimes called “Trumpers.” Through these occasional conversations, I’ve learned that they often think I’m crazy, too. (Really? Me?!) After a couple attempts at some polite (albeit heated) political disagreements with two Trump partisans from very different backgrounds, I learned that they both thought I exhibited all the signs of “TDS,” or “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” “If Trump cured cancer you wouldn’t support him,” one of them concluded.

Trump’s hidden talents aside, what struck me with both my interlocutors was how quickly their voices and messages became super-heated. They also trotted out many supporting “facts,” of course … so many at once in one occasion I lost track of what exactly we were arguing about. Nonetheless, I tried my best to “hate the sin and not the sinner” and attempted to steer us towards a reasonable conversation about a few of the specifics that had been brought up. This seemed to lead to what might be called a shallow victory, or a “non-negative” result: we both stood our ground and disagreed, but the conversation didn’t devolve into name-calling or hurt feelings on either side. But the anger or disparagement I felt directed at me in the middle of these exchanges led me to another small discovery: if I’m going to change the minds of these fellow human beings, it’s not going to start with logic. They’re too angry, it seems to me, to be persuaded by the weak tonic of facts or an appeal to a code of (public) conduct. So what to do?

In 2016, the political activist and CNN commentator Van Jones also tried to find some positive way to respond to the anger and contempt felt for Obama and Clinton by part of the electorate. In the aftermath of the election, he called for the creation of a “love army.” That cool description of his goal was an over-reach, I think. It seemed that love was hard to summon on the left for those who seemed to have voted for a guy who supported hateful policies and language. But in a December 2016 article in Rolling Stone magazine, Jones seemed closer to the mark when he said:

We have to build a bridge of respect to the Trump voters who don’t subscribe to every thing he ever said. For us, those crazy things were disqualifying. For a lot of his voters, they were distasteful but not disqualifying. We can overreact to that and say, “If you vote for a bigot, you are a bigot.” That’s just not true. That kind of language – and that kind of approach – is actually helping Trump to build his coalition.

“A bridge of respect” for any human being seems like an easier thing to create and support than “an army of love.” Love demands a lot; basic respect, in contrast, demands acknowledgement of another person’s humanity that is just like mine – flawed AND in need of being taken seriously. Nobody likes or responds well to being looked down upon. Those of us suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome no more or less than anybody else.

So, this is my introduction to dealing with the contempt that people often feel for one another these days – and barriers created by contempt to real conversation and discussion about political and policy differences. There’s little hope for a just society if we give up trying to persuade each other through an appeal to both emotions and logic. In the conversations I mention above, I certainly didn’t feel vindicated. I did feel some relief, however, that I didn’t reinforce the stereotype held about me, that I’m an unreasonable and unthinking, knee-jerk liberal … just like all the others. And, possibly, that I didn’t reinforce any feelings of anger and contempt those two Trump supporters might have felt for me and, especially, others who disagreed with them.

In short, before we can persuade, we need to turn down the emotional heat around politics, which might have more chance for success right now at the individual or micro level rather than the collective or macro level. I’m not sure, but that’s the hunch I’ll be pursuing in the next few posts.

Homage a Henri

Having grown up in Miami, it came as a surprise to me that the best Cuban sandwich I would ever taste was made in Cambridge, Massachusetts at a restaurant called Chez Henri. What was even more surprising was the unsurpassed quality of this simple-looking creation consisting mainly of meat and bread. It was
a quality that elevated this sandwich far beyond the category of "sandwich" or "Cuban food." It was, in fact, one of the best things you could eat anywhere. I'd wager it was better, in its own way, than the best filet mignon, sushi, BBQ or profiterole you could usually find. It was supremely delicious and satisfying.

The thing about Cuban food is that it's not subtle. It's many-layered, but it's usually many layers of really vibrant seasoning and ingredients made with no regard to counting calories. And the flavors hit you all at once in that "wham-bam thankyou ma'am" way that's so appropriate for Miami. The Cuban sandwich at Chez Henri shared some of those characteristics with its cousins that I had encountered in Miami.

But the main difference between the Cambridge Cuban and the Miami Cuban could be noticed right away: time. The chef at Chez Henri, Paul O'Connell (and I'm sorry I never thanked the man personally) took much more time to make this sandwich than any other Cuban I had ordered in the past. When my parents came up from Miami for a visit, I had to take them to this place so far north of Havana. My mom may have guessed at the secret that made the sandwich so good: the chef probably cured the meat himself. Aha, I thought. That's where the time was probably so well spent. (Will O'Connell ever let us know exactly how it was done?)

Taking this time to make the meat so flavorful was where, it seems to me, the chef brought a French influence into this otherwise completely Latin American dish. Chez Henri was known as a French-Cuban fusion place, and it was. But the Cuban sandwich sitting on a modest plate, garnished with wavy, thin, finger-length plantain chips, would give you no clue that any French influence had reached it ... and had made it any better than the sandwiches I had ordered at Versailles on SW 8th Street.

But one bite into that sandwich and any Miamian could tell you: this was something special. This was no ordinary sandwich, rushed together to appease impatient patrons sipping beers at the bar. This was a sandwich that, like the restaurant itself, carefully took the best aspects of two culinary cultures to create something special and unique. This is why the closing of Chez Henri in the fall of 2013 came as such a shock to me and to many others who came to Cambridge to enjoy O'Connell's creations. I heartily thank the chef for his contribution to Cambridge’s culture and nightlife … but I lament his leaving much, much more.

Raison's d'etre

(Please excuse the spelling and grammar errors, but I feel like French is
the best language that I can use for this feeling/thought)

Je me suis rendu compte
Que ma vie a ete dedie
(pour moi et pour des autres)
A la beute et a la decouverte
Qui, on peut dire, sont
Deux cotes de la meme chose
--la ouverture aux/des experiences nouvelles

C'est vrai qu'on peut faire trop de n'importe quoi
Et la vie doit etre quotidiane souvent
-- si non on mourrait trop tot

Mais on doit avoir peur que la vie de tous les jours
nous etouffe lentement, aussi.

La delice de la beaute me tente toujours
Et m'inspire de partager avec des autres
(comme quand je vois l'habitude de mon
fils de parteger des choses delicieuses avec
des autres -- comme une belle boule de glace)

La plus grand defit, il me semble, c'est de
trouver la beaute dans la vie de tous les jours

Quand j'apprends ca, je le partagerais avec vous.

The Hammock

Hammocks are a lovely piece of outdoor furniture. I know I'm not alone in my reaction to them. They inspire me with longing, knowing that, when I truly set into one, I have nothing better to do than to lounge in the open air.

For some reason, I've usually not let myself lounge in a hammock unless I was already care-free. Was that deferred gratification some sick method of spurring myself to be more productive? "Only after I finish that chapter of my book," perhaps I was saying to myself, "will I be worthy of the soft, swinging indulgence of an afternoon alone in a hammock?" Despite this attitude, I did manage to take advantage of hammocks now and then -- and they were fantastic.

$60 million (Obama) vs. $75 million (Romney) in May

I just heard for the sixth or seventh time that Obama raised $15 million less than Romney last month. With the new campaign finance laws (or lack of them), is that really surprising? Republicans have more rich people in their ranks -- not a surprise.

I might have been more concerned had I heard that Romney raised $15 million and Obama $0. That would be a true indication of electoral trends.

Of course, one might ask, how about the influence money buys? There's no denying the power of advertising and lobbying. But I wonder what the upper limit of effective campaign spending is. If, as I've heard in the media, the final total will be $1 billion (Obama) vs. $1.3 billion (Romney), will voters feel drowned (or just tune out) in reaction to the tsunami of messages from both campaigns? There has to be a saturation level at which more spending on advertising will have little or no effect. No?