Social Issues & Commentary

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My Neurodiverse Voice

The week following my post (that I was Neurodivergent) truly was a surreal roller coaster.

On the Thursday following that post, I participated in my contracting employer’s DEI panel on Neurodivergence. I came out publicly regarding my ADD, PTSD and being on the autistic spectrum, and although I’ve presented on panels and even made public presentations before groups many dozens of times – it was always about WHAT I did professionally – either in IT or as a writer. This time the subject was me, and who I am, which was quite nerve-wracking new territory.

But – it was also liberating. The freedom to speak openly about how I learned that I was neurodivergent, how it has impacted me and the coping mechanisms I’ve developed was empowering, in the sense that I didn’t need to pretend. I could honestly share what it was like to be me, openly and without a mask – something I first began to experience in a limited way under my pseudonym.

Afterward, the positive feedback I received was almost overwhelming, including someone who shared that what I said helped her understand how to work with her own neurodivergent child on a whole deeper level. All my life up to this point, I never thought or felt that what I had to say mattered – but for at least a moment, my words mattered significantly to someone.

Then – after a weekend processing all that (in my own neurodivergent way) I started jury duty on the following Monday. The universe (coincidence or not???) assigned me as juror #11 to a civil lawsuit involving – yes – DEI issues, neurodivergency, accommodations and bullying in a hostile workplace.

Over the course of two intense days, we prospective jurors were all questioned by the judge and both lawyers on those topics. I ended up talking about everything (quite literally) that I had discussed (and more) during the DEI session just days before – but this time, under oath, in the jury box.

Although in the end I was struck from sitting on that jury, it was a deeply profound experience. For two days I spoke the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about being neurodivergent.

I think the universe is trying to tell me that my voice does indeed matter.

On Corruption and The Purpose of Government

Definition: cor·rup·tion – the abuse of entrusted power for personal gain

As I watch the turmoil and chaos churning throughout the world, I know we are capable of so much better. People around the world share the same innermost human passions; that’s why great literature can universally move readers. I’m not naïve—there is evil—but beneath the pain and damage we inflict on each other, most people I meet are fundamentally good and given the chance, would seek to live in peace.

So, how does it go so wrong, in so many ways? Why are the governments we rely on to serve and protect our basic human rights, so frequently regarded with deep distrust if not utter hatred? Searching for those answers, I found more opinions than fish in the oceans, but when I held them up to the “big picture” none of the theories and concepts provided a holistic answer. Until I read Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty by Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson.

In a nutshell, the premise is that long-term prosperity is not merely a product of political and economic systems, but rather how the societal institutions are used.

Through historical analysis and research, Acemoglu and Robinson found that societies and nations which thrive are inclusive, in that they enable and protect political and economic participation of society as a whole. On the other hand, a comparable nation with the same conditions, but institutions (political, legal, economic, etc.) which are exploited for the benefit of a powerful elite to extract resources, will inevitably whither. The book is loaded with far better examples and explanations than I can provide—I encourage finding a copy to purchase, or check your local library.

In other words, while some political and economic systems may be inherently more inclusive (i.e. democratic) than others, what actually matters is how those institutions are utilized. Therefore, a benevolent monarchy may be far more inclusive than a corruption-riddled democracy.

A society or nation is a complex, dynamic system much like a physical body, and maltreatment of part (or most) of the body impacts the whole. Unchecked, the extraction of resources by a controlling elite acts like a cancer; blatant in some nations, while extraordinarily subtle in other cases—particularly when that extraction works to erode an apparently inclusive society.

I found this perspective to be profound, because for the first time the rise and (typical) demise of societies throughout history made sense. However, while it explained the significance of inclusive institutions, Why Nations Fail did not illuminate how those institutions fail.

Searching for that answer led me to a book by Sarah Chayes, Thieves of State: Why Corruption Threatens Global Security. This first-hand examination of corruption around the world described an eerily familiar systemic, dynamic mechanism used to extract and confiscate resources to benefit a privileged elite. The author used real-life examples from around the globe to illuminate how this societal cancer thrives and erodes the foundations of society, causing the same toxic effects described in Why Nations Fail.

“Westerners, especially Americans, can be separated into two basic groups. One camp believes in the necessity, and the virtue, of government…the notion that an entire government might be transformed into what amounts to a criminal organization…is almost too challenging to contemplate. The other camp is characterized by suspicion of government…The overwhelming evidence that the market liberalization…imposed on developing countries…helped catalyze kleptocratic networks…conflicts with this group’s orthodoxy. For most Westerners, in other words, seriously examining the nature and implications of acute corruption would imply a profound overhaul of their own founding mythologies.” – Sarah Chayes, Thieves of State: Why Corruption Threatens Global Security

While digesting that, I watched the extremely powerful Ken Burns documentary, The Vietnam War, and consistently discerned two themes. First, all the governments involved repeatedly exhibited patterns and practices revealed in Thieves of State. More troubling, these failed tactics continue to be employed globally to this day, with the same predictable results.

Which prompts some reflections on corruption and government.

Suffice to say that this scourge is as complex and old as civilization, and not only impacts the victim but does collateral damage. More devastating than the mere theft of property or position or justice—corruption robs both the victim and those who observe it of their faith in the institutions of society, which undermines the legitimacy of the government.

Whether people trust a government or institution depends on whether we believe it serves the greater good with integrity, or is a tool wielded by a powerful elite. Like cancer, once established, corruption spreads and adapts to attack its host in countless insidious forms that are wickedly hard to purge.

Honest self-examination leads to a discomforting truth: corruption often includes those who may not perpetrate it but do enable it by turning a blind eye in exchange. For instance, convenient favors to satisfy some special interest without regard to the greater good—which is, by definition, a form of corruption in itself.

This is the inescapable reality – consenting to so-called special interest influence over government, legitimizes corruption.

Which leads me to conclude that corruption is the ultimate threat to the future of our world and the nations therein. Science and technology continues to transform the world as we know it at an ever-increasing pace. This results in a multinational scale of wealth and power previously unimaginable—and left unchecked, growing wealth inequity portends the consolidation of incomprehensible power, influence and corruption.

Nations fail. They do so almost inevitably. Human history is littered with the wreckage of failed nations.

The stark truth is, any nation will decline when corruptive influences (wealth and power) seize control of the political, legal and financial institutions to benefit a protected, inaccessible elite. Once rooted, it maintains control by nurturing divisiveness to subvert and dismember the inclusive cohesion binding a society together.

I see this process played out daily, and the tactics of demonizing those who are different continue to intensify and divide people.

The vaccine against corruption is integrity, and unobstructed accountability to a Rule of Law which is inclusive of all. The founding fathers of the United States understood the importance of protecting that Rule of Law when they implemented a system of checks and balances to ensure accountability—accountability which is maintained and protected by the freedoms of press, speech and assembly.

So, what to do?

I encourage reading the above-mentioned books. Do not accept the compromising of integrity and accountability of those we invest with power, because integrity is not selective. Demand transparency and accountability of government, while strictly limiting the corruptive influence of wealth and special interests. Resist divisiveness, and insist on problem-solving which is inclusive. Rather than focusing on differences connect with the deeper, common humanity we all share—which is why we need solutions that all can share. The other problems may be daunting but can be overcome, when everyone stands together.

Because if we don’t, humankind now has the capacity to create a world which fails.

The Power of Shame

Last weekend at Norwescon, I went to a panel discussion on “Finding Diverse Voices in SF&F.” Afterwards, while discussing the topic with someone, overwhelming shame swept over me when I recalled a childhood experience. I’m still unpacking the meaning, and felt it worth sharing.

But first, to grasp what I wish to convey I must provide some context, so don’t get ahead of me.

As a child, I didn’t have a connection with my father (the reasons are irrelevant) so my relationship with my paternal grandparents was deeply significant, since Grandpa and Grandma filled a gaping hole in my life. Decades later, I still recall childhood summers and spring breaks, going fishing and camping with them, trailing alongside my grandfather while he took me on his rounds at the mill where he worked as a security guard, and canning tomatoes with my grandmother in the kitchen. Also significant to me was that my grandparents were Native American.

Neither were full-blooded, but both had been eligible to sign onto their tribal rolls and chose not to, for reasons which were too complex for a young boy to understand. Grandma came from Arkansas and had Choctaw roots, while Grandpa was from Oklahoma with a Cherokee background.

Though they were not proud of that heritage (another whole topic), neither did they hide it. My grandparents’ heritage was profoundly significant to me and so it was that, around age 10, I found myself at a ceremony honoring Native Americans.

I can’t recall exactly what brought me to this gathering of hundreds of kids; just that I was still in elementary school, so it likely was a school field trip. In any case, the leader called for all kids who were Native American or had any Native American ancestry to step forward to the center of the ringed assemblage. I proudly thought of my grandparents as I joined the group in the middle.

That moment was shattered when the leader walked over, hauled me to my feet and declared with a loud voice, “You are too white. You’re lying, you don’t have any Native American. Go back and sit down.”

My soul was branded with shame while hundreds of people watched me return to my seat, crying. The lesson I carried from the circle was that I had no right to my grandparents’ heritage. From that moment, it was something forbidden, destined to remain outside of my unworthy grasp—a part of my grandparents that could never be a part of me.

My mind accepted this decree, but my spirit said otherwise. I was drawn to read whatever I found about Native Americans, and my soul was deeply moved when I read “Ishi: Last of His Tribe,” and “Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee” broke my heart with outrage. Though I couldn’t explain why, I always felt like an alien in my own culture.

Over the years, I often felt a spiritual presence; that the Spirit of my grandparents’ Native American heritage watched over me and visited on occasion through vivid dreams and visions. One example was years ago, at a business party during a conference in Arizona.

The host arranged for a Navajo dancer to provide entertainment, but for me it was much more. As those around me drank and talked, I watched entranced while he performed an elaborate ritual involving concentric rings, which dropped one by one until he let the remaining one fall at the end.

Afterward, I mustered my courage while he packed. My profound shame protested that I had no right to inquire, but I felt compelled to approach the man. “I sensed something very deep behind your dance, but I’m not sure exactly what. Can you share with me what it was?” I asked.

The dancer paused and looked at me with surprise for a few moments, then responded, “The various rings represent aspects of the Great Spirit; the sky, the wind, the earth and sun, plants and animals, and mankind. Together everything makes up the web of life, but every time one falls, the web weakens, until finally the whole web collapses. We do this dance hoping that people will see and understand.”

Then he looked at the oblivious people partying around us, and wistfully added, “But no one ever sees it.” I responded, tears in my eyes, “Don’t give up, brother. Someday, some of them will.” In that instant, I felt a sense of kinship.

And so, the other night when I was talking in the corridor, the vivid experience of shame I felt as a child in that circle again washed through me, as if I was there once more—so visceral that it was everything I could do to hold back the tears. Without realizing it, I had carried this pain my whole life. In fact, I now see that the middle third of The Archivist is largely an auto-biographical metaphor of my inner struggle.

As the power of that shame dissipates, I now yearn to explore my Native American heritage. I can’t say where that journey will take me, but I will no longer deny that which is a part of both my physical and spiritual DNA. No, I did not grow up on a reservation nor suffer the degrading experiences that many Native Americans have endured—that has been their path, which I respect and I know what I am not. But, finally, it is time for me to explore what I am.

Our society excels at telling people what they can, and can not, be. I have known numerous gay and transsexual friends over the years, who have struggled with their identity. They, too, walk their own path but I grasp more deeply their conflict, when your spirit tells you that you are something, which society says you can not be.

Long ago I learned not to let others define who I am. What I learned the other night was that, just as importantly, I can not let others define who I am not.

Fiscal Obesity

It is a rare thing to see a paradigm shift take place on a world scale, such as the fall of the Berlin Wall. But I think that is what we are starting to see with Pope Francis as he exerts leadership over the Catholic Church. I’m certainly no expert on the Vatican, but like so many others around the world, I can’t help seeing what he is doing.

From the outset he made dramatic statements through his personal example as he declined lavish papal quarters and settled into a humble apartment. And he has adopted a similar lifestyle. But what strikes me the most are things that he says in this Apostolic Exhortation, such as:

Just as the commandment “Thou shalt not kill” sets a clear limit in order to safeguard the value of human life, today we also have to say “thou shalt not” to an economy of exclusion and inequality. Such an economy kills.

and

The worship of the ancient golden calf (cf. Ex 32:1-35) has returned in a new and ruthless guise in the idolatry of money

I’ve seen online comments in response, that range from “he’s a communist” to “let’s see the church give everything away” and everything in between. There is something about human nature that makes us want to see things as one extreme or the other, but the reality is that for a complex system to remain in equilibrium, there must be a constant dynamic balance. In other words, beyond a certain point, by taking an inordinate amount of wealth, the super rich end up damaging the “body” of the economic system (including themselves). It’s a systemic imbalance that is far more complex than any one person.

More than that, though, it really isn’t about economics or even politics, but rather the core mindset that global societies have taken on. And I think he is spot on. Analogies work because in real life, there are consistent patterns that hold true across disparate settings and situations. So by way of analogy, it’s not a stretch to say that consumption of wealth is quite similar to consumption of food.

Just as those sitting at a feast can choose how much to eat, those at the top who take in most of the wealth DO have a choice of how much to take. Just how much of a bonus is enough, and how much becomes just too much? Consumption, beyond what one needs, leads to obesity. So at what point does fiscal gluttony lead to what I call Fiscal Obesity?

I hope, as I introduce this term, that more of us start asking ourselves that question.

Why Our Society Is Sick

Our society is sick.

The news lately seems to be flooded with accounts of bullying, rape, murder and suicide. There is the tragic story of Rehtaeh Parsons, a 17-year-old high school student from Halifax, Nova Scotia. According to news reports, this beautiful young girl was gang raped, ignored when she reported it to the authorities, and then brutally harassed and bullied after photos of her rape were circulated on the internet by the perpetrators. Even then, the boys were not held accountable, and the bullying continued after the girl moved until she finally hanged herself.

Rehtaeh’s case is almost identical to Audrie Pott, a 15-year-old girl in California who hanged herself when she was also gang-raped and then pictures posted online to humiliate her. These cases, of course, have come to light on the heels of the infamous Steubenville, Ohio rape case.

While teen suicide is not a new problem (I used to be a volunteer counselor for a teen suicide hotline) the advent of social media has taken teen pressure to a whole new level. Unfortunately, this new technology hasn’t come with social guidelines.

In itself, these stories are shocking and disturbing, and countless commentaries will certainly be written about them. What I find most troubling is how the communities these girls lived in responded when these pictures and acts were posted. The deeper question is how society responds, or fails to respond to these kinds of situations. Specifically, is there is a growing tolerance for socially harmful behavior that may stop just short of being legally prosecutable?

While the legal aspects of these cases are being pursued, what do these cases say about our society? I think the vast majority of people would agree that “wrong” behavior in our society is escalating out of control. The question being asked more and more is, what has happened to our sense of right and wrong?

I think it comes down to morals, which have been largely discarded in recent years. Morals are not religious values (though they can be espoused by a religion). Really, morals and ethics are those guidelines to “right” and “wrong” behavior. In a sense, moral values form the immune system of society, identifying problem behavior and quickly responding to it so as to minimize damage to the body of society. But when society stops caring about what happens to it’s body, is it any suprise that more and more people feel disconnected to that body? In the wake of the social revolutions of the past few decades, I believe our society has been left with a deep void of moral values.

So when I say that our society is sick, this is what I mean: that our society has the cultural version of AIDS.

While there is no easy definition of what makes for a healthy society, a body that attacks itself and does not protect itself from toxic contaminants is clearly not healthy. The most important first step in fighting off an illness is to recognize not only what is causing the sickness, but in this case why the body is not fighting it off. So one of the most important things that we as writers (to my writer friends) can do then is to try to boost that immune system, and hope the body starts taking better care of itself.

It’s beyond the scope of a blog post to provide the answers. But perhaps it can help clarify the problem.

The Need To Be Critical

I try to live a regret-free life, but one of the few misgivings I carry as a parent is having put my children through the public school system. Yes, it’s probably politically incorrect to say that. But I doubt many would dispute this stark reality, that the educational system in the United States is deeply flawed. So I won’t bother arguing the point.

The flaws are many. Some studies decry the amount of math knowledge, others lament the sorry state of science literacy. Employers groan about the lack of work ethics and basic skills that the emerging work force brings to them. Community colleges are not only underfunded and overflowing, they have to put high school graduates (including honors students) through multiple levels of remedial courses, just to bring them up to a level that would’ve been unacceptable a generation ago. But the root problem runs far deeper than most of these studies have addressed.

It’s not simply a matter of knowledge; as any kid can attest, Google has brought almost unlimited knowledge to the masses. The core issue I have maintained for many years, is that our educational system does not teach critical thinking. So imagine how pleased I was when I came across this Scientific American article on the failure of lower education to teach critical thinking skills. At last, someone gets it!

The point is NOT to bash teachers. Sure, some measure of responsibility lies with inadequate teachers and a system that doesn’t do enough to weed out poor performers and groom excellence. More of that fault, though, probably belongs to educational administrators. Accountability also has to be shared by parents, school boards and politicians. Entertainment and media devalue education to the point where achievers are ridiculed.

Yet, we live in an increasingly complex world, with deep and complicated problems, and the single most important task of our educational system is to teach the next generation the thinking skills to deal with these problems. But this is somewhat of a Catch-22.

Because addressing the lack of critical thinking is going to require critical thinking. While there are some critical thinkers left.

Computerized Writers

I recently read a Wired magazine article that discussed how the reporting of local sports is starting to change. Accounts of school sports, little league games, etc. are being outsourced, not to India or anywhere you can find on a map. These stories are increasingly being written by computers.

All the virtual journalist requires are box scores, and using preset phrases and verbage, it can extrapolate an account of the game. Those baseball stat lovers may not have been so far off base after all. You can’t pass up how well a program like this runs, when it turns football games into a touchdown. And get set to love what a good match this program is for tennis scores.

The point of all these bad puns is that computers are really good at running routine tasks. But they can’t creatively express abstract concepts such as irony. Though I suspect IBM’s Watson (the machine that beat Jeopardy champions) could make a good run at it. What they can do is take routine facts and turn them into routine articles, something that humans probably found little joy in doing themselves.

We increasingly see ways that computers continue to take over more and more of what were once human chores. Mindless chores, often thankless chores. The problem is that often they were also paid chores.

In theory (and I’m sure it’s been done) a computer program could take an assortment of inputs (a 30 year old woman, a despondent police officer, a lost dog) and using an established formula, turn out a passable romance or mystery story. Many genre after all have very well-defined patterns that are ideally suited for this sort of purpose. And from what I’ve seen, humans will buy it up.

Where does that leave me, as a writer? It doesn’t change a thing, because I’m still seeking to find what differentiates me from the average writer, be it human or cybernetic. What special quality can I bring to the creative process that is unique? It means I can’t simply churn out mindless drivel that any computer program can.

But that has always been my goal as an artist. To be the best I can be.

The Correct Point Of View

My post today concerns writing, but applies to life in general as well.

Recently, an online question came up in one of the writing groups I’m involved with regarding what point of view (POV) was correct for a work of fiction. I won’t go into an explanation of POV other than to say that the basic choices are first person (I wrote that), second person (you wrote that) and third person (she wrote that). There are numerous variations of these basic choices and there are great websites that go into more detail on this than most people want to know. In any case, the discussion revolved around some of those variations.

I made the point that rather than worrying about the popular trend, for me it’s more a matter of being true to yourself as a writer, and being honest with yourself as an artist.

There are very explicit rules for what a writer can and can’t do within certain genre, such as in romance and they do need to be followed. That said, you could follow a formulaic approach and write something that fits very comfortably within the herd, and you can probably manage to be successful (witness Eragon) even with mediocre writing.

However, I think it’s really important to be true to yourself and to the story. The POV is only one factor (albeit a very significant one) that makes up the complete personality of the work, so listen to the heartbeat of your story, how it wants to tell itself, and if you are really connecting with it you will know how to tell it…because that’s what we really are, are storytellers.

And if you try to tell your story in some way that isn’t “real” it’s going to come across as flat as a B-grade actor on the big screen. Because to really imbue your work with life, it has to flow from the deepest, most honest part of inside of you…and believe me, you can’t fake that effortless flow of genuinely honest writing. That’s something I’ve struggled with for a long time myself, my own personal Moby Dick. And I am still hunting that great white whale but I’m seeing it come within harpoon range now.

My point with all this was that (and this is just my opinion)…worry about the quality of the prose, worry about the honesty and emotion of the writing, but don’t worry about the POV…if you are REALLY out in left field, you’ll know it if you’re honest with yourself and the story.

So how does this apply to life in general? Whether it is work, our family life or the pursuits we fill our lives with outside of those things, we all have passions that we pursue. And I think it’s important to be true and honest to those passions within yourself. Some of the most miserable times of my life were when I was less than honest about what was inside myself.

So be true to what is inside yourself, and above all else, don’t stop pursuing your great white whale.

What Science Can Teach Religion About Faith

Today I came across this Scientific American article on a Tennessee law that just passed, allowing teachers in public schools to challenge scientific findings and theories. The article specifically addressed climate science, but the bill also covers evolution and cloning, topics which are a ‘third rail’ in public discussion these days. The implication of a teacher challenging a scientific subject is that one could refuse to teach it, or possibly even teach an alternative viewpoint, i.e. creationism. It wasn’t clear from the article just how far a teacher could go, and it may be that those boundaries have yet to be tested.

I have to question whether a teacher whose notion of challenging science is to discard it, is qualified to teach science. Because science is inherently based on the process of challenging anything and everything. Even the most basic foundation of a science is always open to challenge, if one dares to joust with it. That is why Einstein was able to put forward a theory that didn’t fit with a Newtonian theory that had stood for hundreds of years. If one wishes to challenge any scientific study or finding, the arena (of academic journals) is always open, provided your game is good enough to get you into that arena (kind of like trying to break into publishing). And like any game, there are rules, which science calls the scientific method.

Which leads to what science can teach religion about faith. Many religious adherents that I know view science as weak because with few exceptions, even the most solid constructs are called theories and open to challenge. But what they don’t understand is that scientists have a faith of their own, every bit as strong as the most passionate believer, in the scientific method. That is why even the most fundamental scientific truths are less than absolute, and that is also why science continues to advance by leaps and bounds. Because scientists are willing to examine their beliefs and modify them when confronted with inconsistencies.

As a Christian, I have spent a lot of time and effort examining my belief system, and I won’t pretend to have all the answers but the one thing I’m confident of is that no one else does either. That doesn’t mean I abandon my belief system or that I doubt God exists. It just means our understanding isn’t quite right yet. To me, faith is having the courage to acknowledge that you are probably wrong in some of your conclusions, and that you might need to revise some of those conclusions.

And that is what I think science can teach religion about faith: that it’s okay to be wrong. Because reality doesn’t change, but our understanding of it certainly can.

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