Link #96 – Debate

Disclaimer: I don’t necessarily agree with or endorse everything that I link to. I link to things that are interesting and/or thought-provoking. Caveat lector.

Musical Outgroups

[Content warning: Politics. Something I will regret writing.]

A lot of this extends from Scott Alexander’s I Can Tolerate Anything Except the Outgroup, but if you don’t want to read the whole thing I’ll quote a few key definitions up front. Specifically:

The Red Tribe is most classically typified by conservative political beliefs, strong evangelical religious beliefs, creationism, opposing gay marriage, owning guns, eating steak, drinking Coca-Cola, driving SUVs, watching lots of TV, enjoying American football, getting conspicuously upset about terrorists and commies, marrying early, divorcing early, shouting “USA IS NUMBER ONE!!!”, and listening to country music.

The Blue Tribe is most classically typified by liberal political beliefs, vague agnosticism, supporting gay rights, thinking guns are barbaric, eating arugula, drinking fancy bottled water, driving Priuses, reading lots of books, being highly educated, mocking American football, feeling vaguely like they should like soccer but never really being able to get into it, getting conspicuously upset about sexists and bigots, marrying later, constantly pointing out how much more civilized European countries are than America, and listening to “everything except country”.

(There is a partly-formed attempt to spin off a Grey Tribe typified by libertarian political beliefs, Dawkins-style atheism, vague annoyance that the question of gay rights even comes up, eating paleo, drinking Soylent, calling in rides on Uber, reading lots of blogs, calling American football “sportsball”, getting conspicuously upset about the War on Drugs and the NSA, and listening to filk – but for our current purposes this is a distraction and they can safely be considered part of the Blue Tribe most of the time)

And then the kicker:

And my hypothesis, stated plainly, is that if you’re part of the Blue Tribe, then your outgroup isn’t al-Qaeda, or Muslims, or blacks, or gays, or transpeople, or Jews, or atheists – it’s the Red Tribe.

Scott’s post was written in 2017, which now feels like a very different time. I’m not good at fancy metaphors and stories like Scott, so instead of gently guiding you to my point I’m just going to say it: I don’t think the definitions of these tribes, or the description of the Red Tribe as an outgroup of the Blue Tribe, is correct anymore. Things are different here in 2020.

After four years of Trump as president, the Red Tribe has changed in a couple of important ways: it’s gotten smaller, and it’s gotten weirder. A lot of moderate Republicans and previously-Red-Tribe folks have been disgusted by Trump, and while it might be a stretch to say they’ve completely crossed the floor, it’s hard to call them Red Tribe anymore. As a result, the folks that remain in the Red Tribe have consolidated around increasingly explicit anti-science beliefs and other strongly polarized and “fringe-feeling” positions.

That combination of being both smaller, and weirder or more “fringe-feeling”, is really important, because all of a sudden the Red Tribe doesn’t make a good outgroup for the Blue Tribe: it’s not close enough, and it’s not dangerous enough. To quote Scott again:

Freud spoke of the narcissism of small differences, saying that “it is precisely communities with adjoining territories, and related to each other in other ways as well, who are engaged in constant feuds and ridiculing each other”. Nazis and German Jews. Northern Irish Protestants and Northern Irish Catholics. Hutus and Tutsis. South African whites and South African blacks. Israeli Jews and Israeli Arabs. Anyone in the former Yugoslavia and anyone else in the former Yugoslavia.

So what makes an outgroup? Proximity plus small differences. If you want to know who someone in former Yugoslavia hates, don’t look at the Indonesians or the Zulus or the Tibetans or anyone else distant and exotic. Find the Yugoslavian ethnicity that lives closely intermingled with them and is most conspicuously similar to them, and chances are you’ll find the one who they have eight hundred years of seething hatred toward.

(Tangential note that this is mostly what I was trying to express with my Law of Cultural Proximity.)

Now clearly this process isn’t finished yet, and it may still reverse: the Red Tribe remains a decently large percentage of the American population, so it remains a strong political force capable of opposing Blue Tribe values. But from the position of somebody already living in a Blue Tribe bubble, the Red Tribe suddenly starts to feel too “distant and exotic” to be a proper outgroup. A game of Musical Outgroups begins: the Blue Tribe needs to find a new outgroup.

Again following the narcissism of small differences, the obvious candidate for a new Blue Tribe outgroup is of course the still-half-formed Grey Tribe. But unfortunately the Grey Tribe really is only half-formed, and until recently there was a pretty healthy spread of people across the Blue-Grey spectrum. Categories are fundamentally human constructions (see e.g. The Categories Were Made for Man, Not Man For The Categories), so the Blue Tribe isn’t interested in picking out only the folks who satisfy some platonic ideal of Grey-Tribe-ness as their outgroup; they’re just going to slap a line somewhere in the middle of the Blue-Grey spectrum and call it a day. Besides the obvious Silicon Valley Grey-Tribe tech-bros, who else is on the far side of that line? Neoliberals.

In the new American order, the tribal landscape is more fragmented than before. The Red and Blue Tribes have both become smaller and more politically extreme versions of their 2017 selves. Three new tribes are being forcefully ejected into the wilderness as a result. The Red Tribe is purging itself of compassionate conservatives and the not-explicitly-antiscience; think Ross Douthat and Mitt Romney; I’ll call these the Pink Tribe. The Blue Tribe is purging itself of the previously-defined Grey Tribe, as well as a moderately large contingent of non-Grey neoliberals typified by people like Hillary Clinton; I’ll call them the Purple Tribe.

What comes next is hard to predict. Pink and Purple seem like natural allies, and I can see the Grey Tribe joining that alliance for pragmatic “enemy-of-my-enemy” reasons. But the two-party system throws a real wrench into things. Perhaps, if the Red Tribe continues to shrink and lose cultural relevance, the two-party divide will pivot (as it has before) to be a Blue-Tribe vs Pink-Purple-Grey-Tribe division. On the other hand, if the Red Tribe begins to recover post-Trump, or if Pink, Purple, and Grey can’t find enough common ground, then I can see the smaller tribes being squeezed out of existence between dominant Blue and Red cultural forces.

Narrative Direction and Rebellion

This is the fourth post in what has been a kind of accidental series on life narratives. Previously: Narrative Dissonance, Where the Narrative Stops, and Narrative Distress and Reinvention.

In Where the Narrative Stops I briefly mentioned the hippie revolution as a rebellion against the standard narrative of the time. This idea combined in my brain a while ago with a few other ideas that had been floating around, and now I’m finally getting around to writing about it. So let’s talk about narrative rebellions.

I’ve previously defined narratives as roughly “the stories we tell about ourselves and others that help us make sense of the world”. As explored previously in the series, these stories provide us with two things critical for our lives and happiness: a sense of purposeful direction, and a set of default templates for making decisions. So what happens when an individual or a demographic group chooses to rebel against the narrative of the day? It depends.

Rebellions are naturally framed in the negative: you rebel against something. With a little work you can manage to frame them positively, as in “fighting for a cause”, but the negative framing comes more naturally because it’s more reflective of reality. While some rebellions are kicked off by a positive vision, the vast majority are reactionary; the current system doesn’t work, so let’s destroy it. Even when there is a nominally positive vision (as in the Russian Revolution, which could be framed as a “positive” rebellion towards communism) there is usually also a negative aspect intermingled (the existing Russian army was already ready to mutiny against Russia’s participation in the First World War) and it can be difficult to disentangle the different causes.

In this way, narrative and socio-cultural rebellions are not that different from militaristic and geo-political ones. You can sometimes attach a positive framing, but the negative framing is both default, and usually dominant.

We’ll come back to that. For the moment let’s take a quick side-trip to Stephen Covey’s Principle-centered Leadership. One of the metaphors he uses in that book (which I didn’t actually include in my post about it, unfortunately) is the idea of a compass and a map. Maps can be a great tool to help you navigate, but Covey really hammers on the fact that it’s better to have a compass. Maps can be badly misleading if the mapmaker left off a particular piece of information you’re interested in; they can also simply go stale as the landscape shifts over time. A compass on the other hand (meaning your principles, in Covey’s metaphor), always points due North, and is a far more reliable navigational tool.

This navigational metaphor is really useful when extended for talking about narratives and rebellions. One of the most important things a narrative gives us is that “sense of purposeful direction” which carries us through life. Without it, as in Where the Narrative Stops, narratives tend to peter out after a while or even stop abruptly on a final event (the way a “student” narrative may stop on graduation if you don’t know what you actually want to do with the degree).

The problem is that rebelling against a narrative doesn’t automatically generate a fully-defined counter-narrative (roughly analogous to how reversed stupidity isn’t intelligence). If you don’t like the direction things are going, you can turn around and walk the other way. But there’s no guarantee the other way actually goes anywhere, and in fact it usually doesn’t; a random walk through idea-space is very unlikely to generate a coherent story. Even when you have a specific counter-narrative in mind, there’s good odds it still doesn’t actually work. See again the Russian Revolution for an example; they ended up with a strong positive vision for communism, but that vision ultimately collapsed under the weight of economic and political realities.

This lack of destination seems to me the likely candidate for why the hippie rebellion petered out. They had a strong disagreement with the status quo, and chose to walk in the direction of “free love”, and similar principles instead. But this new direction mostly failed to translate into a coherent positive vision, and even when it did that vision didn’t work. Most stories I’ve been able to find of concrete hippie-narrative experiments end up sounding a lot like the Russian revolution; they ultimately collapse under the weight of reality.

Given the high cost of a rebellion, be it individual or societal, militaristic or narrative, it seems prudent to set yourself up for success as much as possible before-hand. In practice, this seems to mean having a concrete positive vision with strong evidence that it will actually work in reality. Otherwise tearing down the system will just leave you with rubble.

Other Opinions #66 – In-Groups, Out-Groups, and the Intellectual Dark Web

Oh this one is so much fun. Everybody gets to be mad! Libertarian fan of Jordan Peterson and Sam Harris? You’ll hate it. Liberal believer in social justice and structural power analysis? You will not walk away happy.

The real short version is that tribalism affects everyone whether we like it or not.

The slightly longer version is that there is an ongoing societal debate on the internet over… basic philosophy, I guess. Should we evaluate speech claims as isolated factual truths, to live and die on their own based on whether they map to reality? Or should we evaluate them as political acts, intrinsically bound to their context, to society, to power structures, and to the speaker?

Hint: the real answer is “both”.

Disclaimer: I don’t necessarily agree with or endorse everything that I link to. I link to things that are interesting and/or thought-provoking. Caveat lector.