Charity

Over at the Freakonomics Blog, Stephen Dubnar poses one of his reader's questions:

I recently passed the bar and am currently applying for jobs. My main concern is bringing out the most charitable result. Should I work in the nonprofit section where my services are passed directly along to the most needy, or should I get the high-paying firm job and donate the difference in my salary to charity?

In the comments section, there were 38 posts (as of 11 pm Monday night).  I did a quick scan to see the results, and quantify them categorically:

1. Get Rich, Give Away (though not all mentioned giving)- 13
2. Work in Not for Profit- 5
3. Find the best fit for your personally- 13
4. Other- 7

One of the interesting pieces of these comments is how deeply embedded the notion of 'fit' or 'calling' is in the modern imagination.  Most of these comments centered around 'doing what you makes you most happy' or 'when you find the right job, you will know.'  On a related note, my grad advisor Stuart Bunderson and a co-author Jeff Thompson have a really interesting inductive qualitative/ deductive quantitative working paper on a 'neo-classical calling' for modern-day zookeepers.  The general argument of this research is that many individuals (especially professions like zookeepers, but applicable in other formats) look for their work to provide a certain meaning, and when they find this, feel as though they have found a specific fit that moves beyond chance.  Bunderson and Thompson argue that this neo-classical calling (think John Calvin w/o reference to the transcendent) is in fact quite prominent in the modern-day work environment, even if individuals are not quite sure who or what they are called by, or should feel grateful to (e.g. God, Fate, Nature, etc.).  In line with their hypotheses, it appears the Freakonomics readers also feel compelled towards finding the 'right' work by concepts of fit, call, fulfillment.

Darfur

“All this gives Darfur a morbid sort of distinction. No genocide has ever been so thoroughly documented while it was taking place. There were certainly no independent film-makers in Auschwitz in 1942, and the best-known Holocaust memoirs did not achieve a wide audience until years after the war. The world more or less looked the other way as genocide unfolded in Cambodia during the 1970s, and the slaughter in Rwanda happened so quickly—a mere hundred days—that by the time the public grasped the extent of the horror, the killing was done. But here is Darfur, whose torments are known to all. The sheer volume of historical, anthropological, and narrative detail available to the public about the genocide is staggering. In the case of the genocide in Darfur, ignorance has never been possible. But the genocide continues. We document what we do not stop. The truth does not set anybody free.”

- Richard Just in The New Republic

(h/t Alan Jacobs)

Sexuality on Campus: Differences in Spiritual Imagination?

In an article in the July/ August Books and Culture, Todd C. Ream, the associate director of The John Wesleyan Honors College at Indiana Weslyian writes about college students and the cause and effects of the hook-up culture:

In order to see a way beyond the hookup culture, we must help young people to develop spiritual imaginations that will sustain them in their college years. We cannot be content to allow our teenagers to place their critical identities in a lockbox and simply practice daily life management. When students go away to college, these practices allow the extraordinary to parade as the ordinary. The price the hookup culture is asking college students to pay comes with horrific ramifications. Parents, educators, and clergypersons can ill-afford to turn away from what is now happening on Mulberry Street.

The horrific consequences Ream highlights are crucial, and thus deserving of attention (rape, emotional detachment from relationships, etc), but I still wonder what he (and the authors of the books he reviews) means by ‘spiritual imagination.’ After all, if they want adolescents and adults to work on developing this capability, it might be helpful to more clearly define what it is, correct? Here are a few hints:

On the non-alcohol related sexual environments at evangelical Christian College, Ream quotes from Donna Freita’s book “Sex and the Soul” and argues:

Students at these institutions "typically enjoy non-alcohol-related socializing, and they express relief that their Christian culture largely shelters them from the hookup culture they see among friends attending public, non religious private, and Catholic colleges and universities." Freitas found that in terms of sexual practices, "faith seems to make them [students] more self-conscious and thoughtful."

Having attended one of these Christian colleges (though perhaps not of the ones which she cites), I agree with her description of students at these schools as being relatively critical towards the attitudes around sexual ethics at other institutions (just as there can be significant criticism at the absurdity of the typical Christian ethical stance outside these cultures). On the other hand, while I think that this criticism may sometimes be coupled with a thoughtfulness and self-awareness, this is by no means always the case.

In this article (I cannot comment on Freitas book more specifically, having not read it), I wonder to what extent Ream really is referring to the cultivation of spiritual imagination, or rather to the acceptance of a traditional Christian view of sexual ethics. This is by no means an invalid point, but if that is what he means, then he might as well say that outright.

To push on this point a bit more directly, I wonder what should be meant by the concept of spiritual imagination if it is not simply the adoption and internalization of a certain ethical code (though obviously not unrelated). In my view, spiritual imagination involves a more fluid and personal/ relational understanding or way of being than a static ethical stance (though it is clear that most people’s spiritual experiences are deeply intertwined with some notion of ‘ought’). Imagine for example two people, one of whom copies and follows the specific ethical code and another who is aware of this code, delves into the origins of it, wrestles with its tension with other commitments which they hold dear, etc. etc. Which one in this case should be defined as having a more developed spiritual imagination… and what behavior is each likely to engage in?

To follow-up on Freita's argument, while we will clearly see behavioral differences between those at the Evangelical institutions and secular institutions (e.g. differences in % sexually active, number of std’s, number of pregnancies, etc.), and also clear differences in self-explanations of the motivation of those behaviors and explanations of alternative routes (e.g. ‘those Christians are so sexually oppressed, and I am so much more free’ v. ‘that hook-up culture is so shallow and self-absorbed at those other schools, I am glad I am free of it.’), I am not sure if that these necessarily flow from differences in self-awareness, spiritual imagination maturity, etc. Going back to Ream’s argument, is one group more apt to “place their critical identities in a lockbox and simply practice daily life management”? It seems that these types of habits are at home in both groups.   The 'daily life management' behaviors (in contrast to identity wrestling, etc.) adopted by both groups may flow from similar underlying psychological mechanisms (e.g. uncritical adoption of the behavior of one’s peers etc), and take a different form only to the extent that there are significant differences in the behaviors of one’s peer group. 

Evolving Tradition: A Conservative Task?

In synthesizing some thoughts on his favorite Alabaman restaurant and it's ability to embrace French culture while still retaining its distinct southern flair, Alan Jacobs writes:

I understand this kind of culinary art as profoundly conservative in this sense: you love and respect a particular tradition so much that you eagerly embrace ideas that are alien and new if those ideas help your home tradition to become a better version of itself. And I also take my reflections in this post to be complementary to, yet distinct from, the essay by John Schwenkler that set me on this path of thought. John is concerned with certain practices of food making and consuming that follow from conservative commitments; I am more concerned here with habits of thought. But surely the two are necessary complements to each other.

As I have suggested, these habits of thought require a kind of analogical imagination: you have to be able to see something in the alien and new that echoes or resonates with what you know. Frank Stitt has this kind of imagination; many of my favorite artists do. And anyone who thinks this kind of culture-making worthwhile should try to think analogically as well: what would that kind of thing look like in my work? A difficult but necessary task: as Douglas Hofstadter likes to say, “Analogy is the motor of the car of thought.” And analogical thinking is especially necessary to a healthy conservatism, a healthy sense of tradition.

Having just finished Christian Smith's wonderful cultural sociology book "Moral, Believing Animals," I first wonder to what extent this participating in the active evolving of tradition is specifically a conservative task. Smith powerfully argues for a view of humans as animals who, because of a certain higher awareness of thought (being able to think about their thoughts), are to be primarily considered animals which are animated by specific (though sometimes poorly defined) moral sensibilities. When he speak of these 'moral sensibilities' he does so not in a sense that some people have them, and others do not (which is the knee-jerk reaction of some conservatives, just as 'conservatives never change with the times' is the knee-jerk reaction of some liberals), but rather as a framework of understanding, and a source of meaning. Smith builds on an argument that to function as a human being is to be a part of a tradition and corresponding moral framework, which thus serves to guide and shape thinking and behaving, whether or not one is aware of it.

This brings me back to Schwenkler's desire to recapture culinary sensibilities as an important task of the conservative movement.  Schwenkler argues this is crucial in so much as, "Conservatives... style themselves as the great defenders of the family, of local community, and of traditional cultural mores." Jacob goes on to add that, "analogical thinking is especially necessary to a healthy conservatism, a healthy sense of tradition."

Now, I would argue that this 'analogical thinking' is important to any moral framework, but would shy away from defining conservatives uniquely (in contrast to liberals) as those whose task is the defense or re-imagination of a specific tradition.  Rather, it is the role of humanity more generally to participate in this task, even if conservatives might have a hand up in being more explicit or aware of which traditions they primarily draw upon.  

What I like however about both Schwenkler and Jacob's arguments is that they are participating in the task of conversing across tradition lines, re-appropriating what they see as 'good' even when it is thought by some to be outside their tradition boundaries.  In my view, this is what 'post-partisanship' is at its best... not the dissolution of party lines, but rather when political parties (or religious groups, or ideologies) cultivate an ability to converse across lines by re-imagining and re-appropriating where necessary, while still not abandoning their core framework.  This process takes place not through an abandonment of the language or understanding of a tradition to move towards a neutral understanding (an impossible task), but rather through a specific attempt to move beyond a static traditionalism to see the ways in which a tradition provides it's members a way of emerging beyond these static lines, and to capture and cultivate 'the good' whenever and wherever they see it.  As Charles Taylor writes, "Many modern states... are self-consciously faced with this challenge: How to define what holds us together, while specifically abstracting from any particular religious affiliation, but also from any over-arching “lay” philosophy." It is in these debates at, around or about the table that we can see one small part of this process clearly taking place.

Racist Cities 3

One final point to wrap up the racist cities thread. I think the overarching problem with this measure is specifying what a 'city' is (and its conceptual level of analysis), and also what 'racism' entails. A city can be conceptualized either at a macro- (e.g. as a large town- single unit, etc. etc.) or more more micro-level (a collection of individuals operating with a certain jurisdiction, geographical boundary with some sense of shared meaning, etc.) These different stances are reflected in the dictionary definition of a city as:

1.	a large or important town.

2.	(in the U.S.) an incorporated municipality, usually governed by a mayor and a board of aldermen or councilmen.

3.	the inhabitants of a city collectively: The entire city is mourning his death.

Racism is a bit trickier to define. Again, thank you for dictionary.com! They suggest that racism is:

1.	a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.

2.	a policy, system of government, etc., based upon or fostering such a doctrine; discrimination.

3.	hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.

The problem with segregation as a measures of a town's racism is that assumes that segregation is always a function of racism-2 (definition 2), and often leads to racism-3. While I agree that this segregation very well may have been a function of racist policies (and I think that bears out historically), this is not necessarily the case. Furthermore, I have been trying to argue that even if this was the case, it may not accurately reflect the 'beliefs' of the current inhabitants or policy makers of this city.

A focus on income disparity is an alternative measure, but that too links up racism (2) and (3) in suggesting that the policies (e.g. differences in pay) reflect an underlying hatred, intolerance, and/or set of beliefs. Again, this may be the case (if there is still disparity after getting at some standardization if income levels), but it might just as accurately reflect fair pay differences based on different merits (again, a function perhaps of racist policies or the like over time... but not necessarily different currently held beliefs).

So what is city racism and how would it be measured? If I were trying to get at the concept, I would try to bridge the macro-micro gap by arguing that a racist city is one that develops within its inhabitants enduring racist sentiments which reflect themselves in behavioral choices of those individuals. So, let's take the example of two primarily White cities. In the first city, the members of the community operate in a slightly fear-based/ superiority-enfused mentality towards the Black community, which makes them 1) more likely to sort out along racial lines, 2) less likely to consider moving to a more integrated area, and 3) believe in superiority of their race (however implicitly) and potentially act from those beliefs. In the second city, the proportion of Whites in the city is just as high, but the members of the community do not demonstrate the same types of behaviors we see in city one. It would be unfair to call both equally racist based even though a segregation measure would suggest their equivalence. This is also not to say that I believe in a completely deterministic model, as we can imagine people from both cities that turn out the opposite way than described here. Rather, this argument operates under the model of human nature that our communities shape the mental moral scripts that implicitly guide our future behavior (see interesting work Christian Smith on humans as guided by moral frameworks, and by Stephen Vaisey on the topic of implicit moral schemas in guiding behavior) though not without malleability over time. All this to say that one potentially effective measure (while very difficult to quantify) would be to see what scripts a city passes along to future generations, the malleability of these guiding frameworks, and the way that these impact behavior.

So this again brings us back to the role of segregation in shaping these schemas. While I have argued that the link between segregation and racism (2) may exist, this does not necessarily imply racism (1) or (3) on the part of a) current policy makers or b) current residents of the city. After all, the shadow of previous policies is strong, and the impact of policy on behavior is often lagged and thus a function of inertia. It is therefore more likely to be correlated with racism (1) or racism (3) of past policy makers, though again, not always the case. I do think it might very well be fair to suggest that a highly segmented city is MORE likely to impart a set of racist scripts onto the residents than a more racially integrated city (bc of in-group out-grouping distinctions, and a lack of familiarity with the other), but that question is empirical in nature. If one could find a way to apply this approach to the real world (where scripts become more difficult to measure as compared to a laboratory), then I think you might have found a good way to measure a 'racist city.'

Racist Cities 2

So what is the right measure for determining whether a 'city' is racist... even given all the problems with that concept?

In the comments section to the original post, a few people suggested the metrics of segregation and/ or income disparity. But what are those measures pointing to at a conceptual level? Segregation in the most basic sense is the suggestion that (in simplifying with a focus on two races), black individuals live in different areas than white individuals. This could be historically driven (e.g. this is how it has been for a while, and people don't tend to move from their neighborhood), situationally driven (cost of living varies in the two areas, and black and white individuals vary in their earned income), fear driven, or some combination of the three. Income disparity might be better, as it suggests at the most basic level individuals are getting paid different amounts. But is this racism in itself? What if this income disparity is a function of differences in education background, which in itself is a function of historically driven access issues?  

One ideal (though empirically problematic) metric of current racism in a city as demonstrated economically would be the comparison of real income / 'deserved' income across racial categories. In other words if this was .8 for blacks as a whole, and 1.2 for whites, then the economic institutions would be overpaying whites and underpaying blacks.  Real incomes differences (avg white salary 50,000, avg. black salary 35,000), though potentially a manifestation of factors related to racism over time (e.g. segregation, poor education, etc), do not necessarily demonstrate current racism as a psychological state (i.e. something thinks like a racist) given the inertia of those causal factors. In other words, we cannot expect an employer to pay two individuals equally if their sets of qualifications are different. These differences in real qualifications (education, experience, etc.) are in many ways a product of the circumstance of the individuals, and the communities they live in, but those in themselves may not be an accurate proxy of CURRENT racism of individuals in the city. It might be a better measure of the racist inertia built into the city over time.

Vankatesh in the original post highlights the potential racism in the institutions of the larger city. For example, the Red Sox were the last team to racially integrate, when they promoted Pumpsie Green up from the minors in 1959. As an indicator, however, this could suggest several things, not all of which are clear measures of 'racism'. Most obvious is that the organization (or the leaders of the organization most specifically) were racist and therefore unwilling to give African American players a shot in the league. Moving to the larger system, it could be that they were unwilling to do this because of their perception that it would cause a backlash in the town (perhaps meaning a better indicator of racism of the larger city of Boston). A way to tease it apart in a historical experiment would be to replace the management, and see if the behavior was the same. If even after that change, there was still a "legacy of difficulties between the Red Sox and the African-American population" as Howard Bryant argues, then it is possible that the mood of the city made a profit maximizing management less willing to invest in an African American player. In contrast to the behavior pointing to the racist stance of management, it might therefore point to a more systemic racist culture in the larger city.

Though this experiment is impossible, it might be possible to approximate it by looking across the management in different sports teams in Boston. By holding the city (and time frame) constant, it may be possible to (approximately) tease out what was specific to the Red Sox as an organization, and what was more applicable to Boston at large.  Now, if only I could find the time....

Racist Cities 1

Over at the Freakonomics blog, sociologist Sudhir Venkatesh writes:

On one level, quantifying racism doesn’t make much sense....  But let’s consider the question at the macro level. Specifically, what is the most racist town/city in America?

I thought of this question a long time ago when I lived in Boston. The city puzzled me. I knew about the strong liberal sentiment among the populace, but I didn’t have to look far to see that racism was part of its historical core. For example, school integration was violently resisted by many of its white ethnic residents. In sports, the city has been home to some of the most extreme forms of racism — check out Howard Bryant’s terrific book, Shut Out, in which he explores the longstanding bigotry in the Red Sox baseball organization. And I was surprised how openly some of the city’s African-American residents talked about experiencing racism at work, in bars, and on the streets.

Does it make sense to classify Boston on a racism index? Is it any different than other cities?

Good question, and definitely a tricky one to quantify.   Reminds me of some of the discussion in the strategy/ organizations literature in terms of their discussion of 'firm' as a unit of analysis, even though the 'firm' in many ways is difficult to conceptualize as one unit when it is a multitude of individuals acting under some larger structure.  The same is true for a city.  Some of the reader responses were quite interesting.  So far, St. Louis has been mentioned by 11 different readers (primarily, though not always as a nomination).

One reader (Murdock) writes:

I have limited experience with lengthy stays in cities, but from what experience I do have I’d say St. Louis. There are several divides between the “black” areas and the “white” areas, East St. Louis is notorious for violence, etc. I was taken aback when I arrived there by how racist the people I met really were. I incorrectly assumed that those people living in a more diverse populace (I came from Wyoming) would be more tolerant of others. I found the opposite to be true.

Another (JM) writes:

This is a question that I find very difficult to answer, but I will note that there is a difference between a city being segregated and being racist. That’s not to say there is no correlation, as I’m sure there is, but the arguments for Chicago, St. Louis, and Milwaukee all use segregated neighborhoods as their measure. Is there another criterion we can add to try to address not just where people live, but also how residents feel about race?