The Limits of Empathy

Yesterday was my day off. I ran some errands, and I heard about a potential setback. I stopped to talk with Lawrence and told him about my frustrations about a certain business transaction, and  then I went out to run more errands.  Lawrence told me at the end of the day that after I left, Bow was really upset about the conversation he overheard about the business problem. He just would not go back to playing for a long time, and Lawrence had trouble distracting him.

Finally, Bow took Lawrence's hand and spelled: "Mommy is hurt."

Lawrence told him: "Momma is not hurt. Momma is mad!" After which, Bow calmed down and went back to his usual preoccupations: food, grooming, going outside.

Yes, I get angry sometimes. And yes, Bow would rather see me angry than hurt. If I'm angry then there is still a fighting chance. If I am hurt, it means we have suffered a loss. If I lose, Bow loses.

 I know a lot of people who are trying to control their expressions every moment of the day, to convince themselves and others that they only ever have positive feelings: happiness, joy, sympathy, fellowship, friendship. They try to avoid anger, fear, sadness and boredom. They don't actually avoid having those feelings. They just disguise them -- sometimes even from themselves.

Bow, showing affection

Chimpanzees are very good at picking up on other people's feelings. It's one of the things that distinguishes them from us. They see right past any attempts to disguise who you really are and what you really feel.

Does Bow have empathy for me? Sure. But it's got to do with the fact that we are on the same team. If something bad happens to me, then that means that his interests are jeopardized, too. And even though he does not understand the exact nature of every business transaction, he has a very clear gut feeling about when something is "for us" or "against us."

Believe it or not, that's actually what empathy is for. It's not so we'll stop to help our enemies when they are wounded on the field of battle or so that we will adopt that baby from the tribe that is making war on us, or so that we will give something we need away to a stranger because he needs it more. Sometimes empathy does work that way, but that's not how it evolved and that is not its main function. It evolved to help us figure out what is in our own best interest, even when we are not the one directly hurt or threatened.

There's been an article about the benefits of reading that has been going the rounds, and many pro-literacy advocates are touting it as very significant: it claims that people who read a lot are better at understanding other people's feelings. It claims that reading develops empathy. And the more literary the book, the greater the empathy.

I think that is patently false. All my life, I have observed that people with their nose in a book most of the day are less alert to the feelings of others, which may be why they get bullied so often. The ability to read others in my experience is inversely proportional to the amount of reading we have done. People who read literary fiction are more likely to be so out of touch with their own feelings that they don't even know when they themselves are angry, much less somebody else. And yes, there was a political bias in the article, because it mentioned that people who read literary fiction are the most sympathetic to the downtrodden and excluded groups. In other words, there was an implication that empathy is a tool to achieve a particular political result.

Perspective shifting is an important mental exercise. Our ability to shift perspective grows as we become more intelligent, more capable of abstraction and less immediately engaged by direct experience,  and it is better developed in  science fiction than in mainstream literature. In order to really shift perspective, though, you need to be able to momentarily disengage your feelings.  But even though you shift your perspective to identify with an alien race or a different culture, at the end of the day, your actual empathy is reserved for the people on your team. Just like Bow's.

Japanese Beetles attacking my peach trees

Sometimes it's not even about right or wrong or good or bad. It's just about them or us. Take those Japanese beetles that I have seen around lately. One can identify with their desire to find a mate and be fruitful and multiply. But when they are attacking my peach trees in their multitudes, my empathy lessens. I am determined to thwart their very understandable and natural desires.

The greatest discord in this world does not come from a lack of mutual understanding. Its source is conflict of interest. If anybody is trying to convince you otherwise, he probably has something he hopes to gain. Take care!

A Visit to Grandma without Bow

My mother and Sword in my mother's house -- Sword's sixth birthday

I had not been for a visit to my mother's house in almost ten years, until this past week.

Bow and I watch Sword blow out the cansles

 The last time we were there, all of us, Sword had just turned six, and Bow was a little over three.

Bow remembers everything, and when I took out the album this morning, he insisted on looking at all the old photos himself.

My mother's house is full of beautiful objects, and you can imagine what a job it was to keep a three year old chimpanzee from touching anything, lest he break it.

However, I can truthfully aver that Bow did not touch anything he was not allowed to touch. At the table, he sat in his own high chair. At other times, he and I sat quietly in the corner, while Sword opened her presents. Bow was better behaved than most three year old human boys these days. He did not touch anything, and he broke nothing. Today, we are often told we have to make allowances for small children who have not been told how to behave around breakables. No allowances were made for Bow, and none were required. He was good.

He is still good. He can be trusted with a photo album, and when he is done with it, it is in the same condition as he received it. But he is too big for me to feel safe traveling with him, not so much  because of what he would do, but because I do not trust the behavior of other humans we might meet on the road. Every allowance has to be made for humans who have not been taught to behave well, and no allowance can be made for chimpanzees. So when I went to visit my mother this time, Bow stayed home.

This time, when Sword and I went for a five day visit, Bow had  Lawrence with him during our absence. My mother's house is like a museum. Above you can see one of my most ambitious paintings. I have not mastered perspective, so it is very flat. But the people are recognizable, because I like to do faces. If you know one of the people in the painting, chances are you can tell who it is, even though the features are somewhat distorted.

Detail: Walter Spitz

For instance, the figure dressed in the dull green shirt in this detail from the painting is Walter Spitz. He is no longer alive, but we went to grad school together. I worked on this painting at the same time as I worked on my dissertation.

Charcoal sketches by Yakov Minkowitz

Another artist whose works are enshrined in my mother's house is my late uncle, Yakov Minkowitz, who fell in battle during the Six Day War.

Self portrait by Yakov Miknowitz

This is my uncle's self portrait. His charcoal sketches are behind glass. which is why I was not able to take better photos of them.

This is a Chagall print that my mother owns. You can see Chagall's signature in Hebrew in the right bottom corner. Right above the Chagall, my mother has hung a reproduction of my painting of the Mount Carmel Massacre.

My mother is a talented painter in her own right. In fact, she has a lot more talent than I do.

This is a still life in water color that my mother did of an onion.  I think it's spectacular!

Photos of her children and grandchildren line one wall of my mother's living room. Over the mantel, there are photos of departed family members.

There is one section dedicated to the memory of my Uncle Yakov.

The memorial to my uncle spills over to the left side of the fireplace mantel as well.

In the middle of the mantel, there is a portrait of my mother's parents.

Further to the right is a portrait of my father.

On the far right, you can see a portrait of my paternal grandfather, Benzion Katz, who was the rector of the University of Tel Aviv at the time of his death.

My mother has a large collection of frog figurines. Above you can see some of them, along with a painting of hers of anemones and/or poppies. My mother loves red flowers.

Above you can see the delicate blossom that she grew from a plant found  at her brother's grave site,

Even though my mother lives in a condominium in an urban area, the number of different plants that grow in her small garden plot is astounding.

She has multicolored impatiens, and a beautiful flowering double hibiscus.

Locquat trees in her garden  stretch out high to try to catch the sun.

Her pomegranate tree is flowering.

There are fig trees bearing figs.

There is even a small palm tree!

Elephant garlic grows there.

Between other, bigger flowers, I even spotted a tiny, delicate wild strawberry.

My mother's garden has plants so unusual, I do not know their name.

This tall plant above grew in the yard of one of her former friends in Israel.

Every plant has a story behind it about how it was acquired, even if my mother does not know its name.

 And sometimes the names are deceiving. There are bluebells which aren't really blue.

There are petunias that remind me of morning glories.

But there are actual morning glories, too, which bloom only in the morning.

There are even ripe raspberries. Some of them have been picked and eaten.

I can't possibly post all the photos I took of my mother's garden, but you can take a quick tour via this low res video.

Overseeing all this growth in my mother's garden, there is a very small chipmunk who takes it upon himself to prune the trees and eat some of the fruit and flowers.

The chipmunk was very shy when I tried to get a snapshot, but you can catch a brief glimpse of him here, when distracted by the ringing phone, he scurried away.

There are also quite a lot of deer and rabbits in Bloomington, despite it being a big city, by my standards, anyway. We were on a city bus when we saw a deer placidly grazing on somebody's lawn.

My mother has very nice neighbors, and while I was there she had a beautiful flower arrangement on her coffee table that had been given to her by some of her neighbors.

Sword and I attended two musical productions while in Bloomington: Acis and Galatea and Hairspray.  Bow's uncle got us the tickets for Hairspray, which was very well produced.

My mother also has a large framed portrait of Bow on display in her house

We had a great time in Bloomington, but of course I missed Bow, and I phoned and spoke to him while we were away. Lawrence told me that the first few days, Bow enjoyed the special time they had together, but that as the time wore on, Bow began to be more anxious for me to return. Bow was kept apprised of my itinerary and knew when I was expected home.

When I returned, he first examined my new clothes, and then he gave me a big hug and a kiss! And now things are back to normal.

The Lady and the Girl

Lately, Bow has not been saying that much. On the average day, he tells us what he wants to eat, asks to go outside, spells the names of all his foods and asks for his blanket, but there is not a lot of spontaneous communication about much else.

This is different from how it was at first when he started spelling. In those early days he used to talk more about his feelings,  or he would tell very tall tales about the neighbors and people prowling around outside or kidnappers who came to get him when I was away and he was alone with a sitter. In time, all of that died down, because he realized nobody believed him, and since the lies made no real impression, he just went into routine mode. "Give me an apple... I want my blanket."  When the things he says are that predictable, we sometimes question whether he has language at all.

People who start reading this blog can go for a long time and not even know that Bow can write and that he has language, because I just tell about our day to day experiences.

Well, yesterday was a Wednesday, and in addition to telling Lawrence what he wanted to eat, ("I want an apple"),  Bow also spelled: "And the lady is coming to see me."

There is a woman who makes deliveries here, and she and her little girl have been coming on Wednesdays around noon for the past few months. The little girl is very interested in Bow, but Bow usually hides in a corner and refuses to interact when they come. You would think he didn't like them, the way he has been acting.

Today, they were late. I was waiting for them after lunch, and since Bow had Lawrence, I thought I would meet them outdoors so as not to disrupt Bow's lunch.

Bow, seeing me outside, and having the idea that I was planning to intercept them before they came in, spelled to Lawrence: "Tell Momma to come in. I am done eating, and I want to see the lady and the girl."

Lawrence told me, so I asked them to come in and talk to Bow, and this time he did not stay hidden in a corner. He came to the door and interacted with them through the grid, being sweet and gentle and showing an affectionate interest in both of them and especially in the little girl.

Bow can surprise us. He does say spontaneous and unexpected things. It just doesn't happen every day.

This picture has nothing to do with the story I just told you, but it helps to always have an image in every post!

Early Christmas Gifts

Yesterday was Wednesday. Lawrence brought some Christmas gifts for Bow. Next Wednesday is Christmas, and Lawrence will not come. He will be at home, celebrating Christmas with his own family. But he did not want to miss a chance to give Bow his gifts.

Usually, we put Lawrence's Christmas gifts to Bow under the tree, and then he opens them along with all his other gifts. But this year I decided it would be best to let Lawrence give his gifts to Bow early, so they could enjoy them together.

There were two gifts. The first was a red stuffed pull toy. It was shaped like a bone, with a handle on one side so one person could hold it while another person tugged at it with his mouth. I think this was a toy that was designed with a dog in mind, but Bow liked it well enough at first.

The second was a sock. Lawrence had to admit Bow liked the sock better!

This morning, Bow asked for both presents. He played with them both for a while, wearing the sock and brandishing the toy.

But he soon tired of the toy, whereas the sock kept him happy for a long, long time. He loved putting the sock on.

He loved adjusting the sock.

He loved walking around in the sock, and sitting and thinking with the sock still on.

And when he felt a little sleepy, he laid himself down on the floor and napped -- with the sock still on.

Which just goes to show that it's the simple gifts that give the most pleasure.

What We Do On Our Day Off

Wednesdays are my day off. Of course, I still start out the day the same way. Breakfast with Bow and watching my daughter board the bus. It's only a little later that the routine is different, when Lawrence comes in around eight a.m.

Yesterday, there was a little snow on the ground as my daughter waited for the bus, and I watched from a distance. It was unusually noisy, because a neighbor across the road was feeding his cattle. After the bus came and my daughter boarded, a truck carrying a giant hay bail drove off in the opposite direction.

The snow did not last long. By the time I took off to run my usual Wednesday morning errands, it had already melted, and by afternoon it was quite sunny, though still a little on the cool side.

Wednesday isn't just my day off. It is also Bow's -- he gets a nice break from my constant companionship when Lawrence arrives. Bow looks forward to this change in the routine. Before Lawrence gets here, Bow is already waiting for him. And yet when Lawrence arrives, you would think Bow was greeting an invading army. (The footage below is from last Wednesday, but Bow's display does not vary much from week to week.)

In addition to my usual routine errands of picking up mail at the post office and buying groceries, I also got a chance to visit Jill Dabney yesterday, and she gave me a tour of her farm and introduced me to some of the animals.

Highlights of my visit included Jasmine, pictured above, who is expected to have babies very soon, and Trixie, the Jersey cow who has a young calf.

Jill Dabney is an excellent musician and voice and piano teacher. That's the side of her that I usually see, as she is my daughter's music teacher. She is also helping me with The Debt Collector song demos. But yesterday I got to see a different side of Jill. She has a way with animals, and everyone on her farm is happy and well cared for.

Later in the afternoon, I came back to Jill's house to bring my daughter and her friend for their weekly voice lesson. Jasmine, the sow I had met earlier in the day, was wandering free outside. She came up to me and greeted me as I was getting out of my car. Then she wandered into the woods, pursuing her own interests.

I had a very nice day off. And Lawrence and Bow also had a great time together. It's good to vary our routine from time to time.