Lareau, Annette. 2003. Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race, and Family Life. 1st ed. University of California Press.

Rating:
8

Review:
Unequal childhoods is a book about class differences in how parents raise children. The book illustrates quite clearly that children raised in middle class homes are raised under a model of “concerted cultivation,” which involves lots of extracurricular activities (e.g., sports, lessons, tutoring, etc.), greater detail to language use and development, and parental interventions in institutions in ways designed to benefit middle class children. Children raised in working class and poor homes are raised under a model of “natural development,” which does not include the above characteristics and instead results in children having lots of free time (typically to play outside with friends or watch TV), limited extracurricular involvement, limited attention to language development, and an almost oppositional and antagonistic view of institutions. The implications of these different parenting styles are discussed, though, admittedly, the lack of data illustrating the advantages and detriments of the two styles as children age is not included in the book.

To illustrate the two different parenting styles, the author and several research assistants interview and observe about a dozen families across three classes: middle, working, and poor. They also include both black and white families but find limited differences between the two based on race; like white families, the bigger differences are the result of class differences.

The bulk of the book is made up of chapters detailing the lives of the children observed and illustrating how their lives reflect the different parenting practices. The parenting practices do seem to be distinct based on the data provided and there are very few instances when parents from one class employs the methods or models from the other class.

As noted, the biggest limitation of the book is that it speculates as to the actual implications of these different parenting styles and does not provide longitudinal data illustrating the outcomes. Despite this limitation, the book is interesting to read as it provides deep, insightful access into the lives of everyday people with a keen perspective on how parents parent and children are raised.

Posner, Richard A. 1994. Sex and Reason. Harvard University Press.

Rating:
6

Review:
Sex and Reason is basically a liberal, rational choice theorists effort to explain both why people behave the way they do sexually and to justify why most sexual behavior should be considered perfectly acceptable. The book covers a wide range of topics, include: theories about sex, a history of sex and sexual mores, the biology of sex, the morality of sex, regulation of sex and marriage, homosexuality, pornography, rape and sexual abuse, adoption, artificial insemination, and sex and the courts.

In many ways this book succeeds. The historical analysis, while of necessity brief and somewhat superficial, offers a good grounding for anyone interested in how sexuality has changed over time. Also, the connection of sex to the courts and the law is an aspect of sexuality that I had not thought about as deeply as this book forces one to do.

Where I have serious reservations with the book is in the primary choice of theory: rational choice theory. Rational choice theory is rooted in the idea that all people are rational actors who attempt to behave in fundamentally rational ways. Both of those assertions are likely to be flawed, depending on how you define “rational”. If, as many rational choice theorists do, you define rational tautologically as whatever people choose to do is rational, then you have a theory of, well, nothing. Such a theory fails to predict anything. If you hold to a more rigorous definition of rational, as something along the lines of behavior that maximizes what most people would consider to be benefits and minimizes what most people consider to be negatives, you likely could explain some human behavior, but there will be many instances of human behavior that run counter to your theories. Why? Because humans are only partially rational and don’t always behave in rational ways.

This theoretical approach basically results in a book in which the author’s particularly perspective can never be wrong, as rational choice theorists can always find a way to explain why something is happening or should happen. There are no instances in this book when rational choice theory fails to predict sexual behaviors, which suggests that the theory is either perfect or that the theory is so flawed that it can be easily manipulated to make it seems as thought it is perfect by predicting behavior ex post facto. Such a theory, then, offers little in the way of predicting human behavior.

Overall, it’s hard to be critical of a book that tries very hard to justify many of the beliefs I hold. However, the theoretical approach is so flawed as be frustrating for the discriminating reader who sees the tautological problems in most of the explanations provided. The book is somewhat redeeming when it comes to its superficial historical treatments of sexuality and its legal analysis.

Blackford, Russell, and Udo Schuklenk. 2009. 50 Voices of Disbelief: Why We Are Atheists. Wiley-Blackwell.

Rating:
6/10

Review:
This book is somewhat challenging to review as it combines the work of 52 authors. The basic idea is that these individuals were asked why they do not believe in god (primarily referring to the Judeo-Christian god). The book is the answers provided by the 52 authors, with an introduction by the editors. The many authors provide an array of reasons for disbelief, but vary in the quality, rigor, and logic of their arguments.

Before I dig into the reasons given for disbelief, let me first describe some other characteristics of the book. As a quantitative-leaning sociologist, I couldn’t help but look for things to count in this book. I found two. The first was the areas of expertise of the authors. Of the 52 authors, 18 are philosophers (23 if you include ethicists with the other philosophers). The rest of the authors come from a diverse array of backgrounds: writers or journalists (9), activists (7), physicists (4), biologists (3), psychologists (2), politicians (2), and medical doctors (2). The areas of expertise, not surprisingly, are reflected in the reasons given for not believing in a god or gods. The philosophers are more likely to draw upon arguments like theodicy while activists are more likely to draw upon civil rights issues surrounding religion. I discuss this point in more detail below. Assuming the goal of 50 Voices of Disbelief is to illustrate the wide variety of reasons why people do not believe in a god, I believe the book succeeds to some degree with a moderately diverse group of contributors. However, philosophers make up a disproportionate percentage of the authors. While this may be justified by arguing that philosophers are experts in this area and are the most likely to have lucid arguments for their disbelief, a wider array of disbelievers from even more backgrounds would have better accomplished this goal.

While somewhat more difficult to count, I attempted to categorize and quantify the various reasons authors gave for their disbelief. My goal, of course, is not to discern general patterns for disbelief as this book is not a representative sample of non-believers. I did this primarily to give my self a sense of what the main arguments for disbelief were in this book. Quantifying the reasons was more difficult because the authors could offer multiple reasons for their disbelief and because some authors didn’t clearly articulate a reason for not believing. My categorization of reasons resulted in 19 different justifications for disbelief. The most common reason, which was mentioned by 30 different authors, was a broad category that includes the following, closely related reasons: religion conflicts with science or the rigorous criteria of scientific empiricism were applied to religion, scripture, or god, and these came up short. This could generally be considered a “lack of evidence for god or religion” category. The second most widely cited reason was theodicy or the problem of evil, which was discussed to varying degrees of sophistication by 14 different authors. The only other reason that was widely cited was religious pluralism or comparative religion (10 authors). This reason is rooted in the idea that there are lots of religions, many of which are exclusive. The contradictions and conflicting truth claims of the extant religions serve to undermine all of them, a lá Peter Berger (1967). The remaining reasons offered range widely, from childhood trauma and religion being completely ineffectual to having no need for religion or being comfortable without it. Before reading this book I thought, perhaps erroneously, that it would be organized topically by the reasons the authors offered. However, the editors do not seem to have organized the chapters in any clear fashion, and it certainly isn’t organized topically, which can make it a little challenging to read straight through.

As far as reasons go, there was another pattern here I found quite interesting. Of the four people who said that they left religion and/or do not believe in god because traditional religion is patriarchal, three were women (12 of the 52 authors are female). Both of the people who gave the violation of civil rights as their reason for not believing referred specifically to violations of civil rights under Islamic governments. And both of the people who mentioned homophobia as their reason for not believing were homosexuals. This pattern led me to think that perhaps an underlying motivation for many people who do not believe is the desire to liberate themselves from the oppression of religion. However, how religion oppresses is relative. For some homosexual nonbelievers, the oppressive aspect of religion is the denigration of homosexuality (among those religions that do). For some female nonbelievers, the oppression is rooted in patriarchy. And for some white male nonbelievers, who would be the primary beneficiaries of Judeo-Christian religion if they were believers, the oppression may often be cognitive and rooted in the limits religion places on the pursuits of the mind. Of course, these are generalizations based on the reasons offered in this book and don’t hold true for everyone. Even so, this would explain why so many of the white male authors offered “lack of evidence” as their primary reason for not believing and not religious patriarchy or the oppression of homosexuals.

As far as the writing and arguments go, the quality varies substantially. Some chapters were so compelling and well-written that I was disappointed they were so short (e.g., those by Ophelia Benson, Victor J. Stenger, and Edgar Dahl). Others were simply disappointing, either because the arguments were not logically rigorous or were unintelligible (e.g., those by J.J.C. Smart and Frieder Otto Wolf). The editors probably could have been more selective, including just one or two chapters on any given reason and excluding some of the weaker chapters altogether. There is also a range of sympathy toward religion, with some authors taking a very negative, critical stance (e.g., A.C. Grayling and Kelly O’Connor) while others are more sympathetic (e.g., Julian Baggini).

Given the audience of the journal this review is in, it seems appropriate to give special attention to the chapters by psychologists. Susan Blackmore is a British psychologist whose area of expertise was formerly parapsychology. In her chapter she notes that she spent decades researching the paranormal and, despite her best efforts, found no evidence for the existence of anything supernatural. As a scientist, she was ultimately forced to conclude that belief in god is untestable, and whatever claimed evidences for the supernatural that are testable have come up short. As a result, she is no longer a believer.

Marc Hauser’s approach is quite different. In his co-authored chapter with Peter Singer, a professor of bioethics, he and Dr. Singer illustrate quite compellingly that morality does not derive from god. They do this by drawing upon their experimental research that finds atheists and agnostics are at least as moral as are theists but they do not derive their moral worldview from the supernatural. While their chapter does not explicitly state that this is why the authors are not believers, their research provides one more justification for why belief is unnecessary.

It’s clear from reading this book that there are plenty of reasons to not believe in a god. Some of the reasons in this book are clearly more compelling and more widely used than are others. And, at least as far as this book is concerned, peoples’ reasons for not believing appear to be related to how religion has oppressed them. Scholars interested in a non-random sample of generally well-written reasons for disbelief may find this book of interest.

Reference:
Berger, Peter L. 1967. The Social Reality of Religion. New York: Faber and Faber.

(Note: I reviewed this book for the International Journal for the Psychology of Religion.  A shorter version of this review will be coming out in that journal soon.)

Ecklund, Elaine Howard. 2010. Science vs. Religion: What Scientists Really Think. Oxford University Press, USA.

Rating:

3/10

Review:
Science vs. Religion had the potential to be a substantial contribution to discussions about the intersections between science and religion by exploring the religious and spiritual views of scientists at elite universities. That potential is primarily the result of the data amassed for this project, which appears to be a solid dataset, obtained as part of a large Templeton grant. The data were collected from 2005-2008 and include both quantitative survey data (n=1,646) and qualitative interview data (n=275). The subjects are scientists in seven natural and social science disciplines (physics, chemistry, biology, sociology, economics, political science, and psychology) from the top 21 public and private universities in the U.S. The tables in Appendix A note a response rate close to 75% and the data appear to be a representative, random sample of elite scientists in the U.S. Unfortunately, there are a number of problems with the book that prevent it from living up to its potential as an insightful examination of the religious and spiritual lives of elite scientists.

One of the biggest problems with the book is that it fails to make clear what its aims are from the outset. The only goal that is stated up front – to encourage dialogue between scientists and religious non-scientists – is clear, but there is no clear and compelling argument made for why this goal is important. This goal is framed as being a pressing need for science (p. 74), and it is argued that science needs better spokespersons to achieve this (p. 140). However, the only argument given to support why this goal is important is so that “some parts of science among people of faith” are more widely accepted (p. 149). Furthermore, there is no evidence laid out to support the idea that such dialogue will actually lead to a wider acceptance of science among people of faith. Aside from this one ill-justified aim, there are a number of other unstated and unjustified assumptions that underlie the arguments in the book. Had the book begun with a chapter detailing these assumptions and building rationales for why they are justified I may have been more receptive to the arguments in the book. But, as currently structured, the assumptions are revealed only slowly, and they are not adequately justified.
One of these problematic assumptions is that all scientists should have nuanced views of religion (p. 144). If you accept the first assumption described above, that scientists have an obligation to dialogue with non-scientists, then having moderately nuanced views of religion may help them know which religious groups will be more receptive to dialogue or maybe it would provide insight on ways to approach religious groups. But there is no evidence presented that such nuance would help educate people about science. The book actually goes beyond just assuming scientists should have nuanced views and moves into criticizing scientists for their lack of complexity and nuance in their understanding of religion, as though all scientists should also be theologians (p. 27). Why should scientists, who spend lifetimes becoming experts in their fields, also spend their time becoming experts in religion? The division of labor in society demands that people specialize. If all scientists also became theologians, why have theologians?

It is also assumed that society would somehow benefit from scientists talking openly about religion in their college classes and on campus (pp. 76 & 92). This assumption is complicated by the fact that there are two ways to discuss religion in the classroom: (1) as an object of study and (2) as a personal view that you want to share with students (i.e., evangelism). These two ways of discussing religion are not disentangled in the book but are grouped together. Thus, the book suggests that scientists feel pressured not to discuss their personal religious views in the classroom (pp. 76-79), but it is then suggested just after this that talking about religion as a variable or object of scientific scrutiny is also frowned upon (p. 80). However, the book later points out that there is near universal support among scientists for examining religion in higher education, but only in classes designed for that (e.g., religious studies; see pp. 94 & 111) and only as an object of study. Scientists are not keen on the idea of personal religious views influencing scholarship or teaching and don’t like the idea of personal religiosity being discussed in the classroom (p. 95). So, scientists have nuanced views on how it is appropriate to discuss religion in the classroom, but the book seems to suggest both approaches should be acceptable. Additionally, the assumption that religion belongs in the classroom is not justified except to suggest that it prohibits dialogue between scientists and non-scientists. There is also no discussion of the obvious rebuttal: What other personal views of professors should be discussed in a classroom environment? Should a professor’s belief that extraterrestrials are on Earth and are experimenting on people be encouraged as well (this was a belief regularly expressed by a professor at a university I attended)? What about political, racist, or sexist views? If the personal religious views of scientists should be explored, why shouldn’t these?

One of the assumptions I have yet to fully grasp is an idea repeated a number of times in the book that science needs to be “translated” for the broader public (p. 45, 81, 88, and 108). If the book had used the word “simplified,” I think I would have been okay with this assumption. Science is complex and it does need to be simplified for non-scientists to understand it. But the idea of “translating” science is used in contexts that make me think the book means something besides simplifying, as when it is suggested that science should be translated for the religious (p. 108). I think what this is suggesting, and I could be wrong here, is that science should be reframed in ways that make it compatible with religion (p. 81). While that may be possible with some religious views, it certainly is not possible with most fundamentalist theologies. The only way to translate science for fundamentalists and even for many non-fundamentalists is to incorporate non-falsifiable or non-scientific beliefs into it (e.g., an intelligent designer into evolution). Why should that be the responsibility of scientists? Such efforts are outside the domain of science and scientists should take no part in them.
Another assumption of the book is that scientists bear a large portion of the responsibility for the low rates of scientific literacy in the U.S. (pp. 8, 129, & 141). I’m a bit more sympathetic toward this assumption as scientists bear some responsibility. However, there are at least two complicating factors here. First, the book notes that scientists are not rewarded for engaging the public; it is not a factor in tenure decisions (146). This is a great point and changing this might encourage more scientists to engage with the public. Second, the book suggests that scientists should approach the media to educate the public (p. 142). Unfortunately, since science doesn’t sell, I’m not very confident that the media hold the answer for educating the general public about science. Toward the very end of the book there is a brief discussion of the possibility that the low scientific literacy may not be just the responsibility of scientists. The book notes only in passing that religious fundamentalism is a threat to science (p. 153). It is also suggested that religions could invite scientists to come talk to their congregations, but only in the context of suggesting ways that science can be reconciled with religion (p. 151). Missing from the book is any suggestion that religions may be responsible for the anti-scientific views they teach. If what people believe instead of science is religious dogma, maybe the problem is religion and not science?

The book also assumes that science and religion are reconciliable (p. 50). While that is possibly true, the book never clearly illustrates what this must mean: that religion must accommodate science and not vice versa. In fact, the opposite – that science accommodate religion – is suggested (p. 109), though not explicitly stated. Religion must accommodate science rather than the inverse. Why? Because religion has traditionally asserted claims that have been disproven by science and not vice versa. The domain of religion is shrinking as the domain of science expands. By suggesting that the two are reconciliable, the book is basically advocating that all religion become very liberal, non-literalistic, and non-fundamentalist. Basically, the book is describing liberal Protestantism, which is, in many ways, reconciliable with science. That’s a reasonable assertion, but also a relatively unrealistic one at the moment; religious fundamentalism will not be reconciled with science any time soon.

Finally, the book assumes that there is an intentional effort to suppress religion in academia (pp. 43 & 79). This assumption is closely related to the assumption that professors should be allowed to speak openly about religion in their classes as the intentional suppression is argued to be the reason why open discussion is not occurring. This suppression is attributed to “strong cultures” at universities that discourage the open expression of religion, resulting in closeted faith (pp. 43-45) and even discrimination (pp. 44-45 & 116). However, the book offers evidence that contradicts this assumption. The book notes that secular scientists are quite positive about religious scholars who combine their religion and science (pp. 46 & 150) and many even advocate universities supporting personal religiosity outside the classroom on campus (p. 11). The book also is unable to point to many instances of discrimination against the religious (pp. 44-45 & 117) and, intriguingly, fails to even ask the non-religious if they have ever experienced discrimination as a result of being non-religious. Why are the religious asked about discrimination but the non-religious are not? For both groups, it is unlikely that they experience much discrimination as the prevailing attitude in academia is disinterest in religion (p. 72); so long as scientists don’t make it relevant, their colleagues don’t seem to care about their personal beliefs.

Despite having good data, there are problems with the interpretation and presentation of the data. To begin with, there are very few tables presenting the data (only about 10 tables or graphs are included in the entire book). Crosstabular data showing religious views and practices by discipline would have been nice, even if it was relegated to an appendix, especially since such information is mentioned in ways that are not immediately clear. For instance, on page 130 it is claimed that over 30% of biologists have a firm belief in god, yet according to Table 2.2, only 9% of elite scientists have a firm belief in god. As biologists make up 15.5% of the total sample, this means that only 6-7% of the other scientists can, on average, have a firm belief in god in order for the average of all scientists to be 9%, which is possible, but seems unlikely as biologists are often less religious than chemists and physicists. Crosstabulated data by discipline would mean the reader would not be forced to calculate these percentages.

In addition to the fact that very little data ends up in tables, there are also some interpretations of the data that are misleading. For instance, I counted three places (there may be more) in the book where it is suggested that “nearly 50% of scientists are traditionally religious” (pp. 6, 27, & 33). This claim requires a very liberal interpretation of the data. Table 2.1 shows that 53% of the respondents self-identify as nones, while 16% identify as Jewish (the largest affiliate group). However, in two separate places (pp. 15-16 & 33) the book notes that most of those who identify as Jewish do so “ethnically,” not “religiously” and that at least 75% of the Jews in the sample are atheists (p. 36). Thus, in reality, 65% of the respondents (53% of the total and 75% of the Jews, or 12% of the total) are nones; at best, 35% of the sample self-identify with a religious tradition. Why is the claim that nearly 50% of elite scientists are religious repeated multiple times when the data do not support this? This does seem like part of a broader effort to paint scientists as being more religious than they really are, despite the fact that the data presented suggest elite scientists are mostly irreligious (64% are atheists or agnostics and many more doubt) and if they are religious, they are very liberal (p. 35) and still often have trouble accepting what their liberal congregations teach (p. 41).

The problem with misleading interpretations of the data is also apparent in the discussion of spirituality. On page 53 it is claimed that nearly 60% of scientists are at least somewhat spiritual. But in the one table that presents data on this (Table 4.1) and in a footnote, this claim is called into question. For some reason, only two categories are presented in Table 4.1 – “not at all spiritual” and “spiritual” – even though the original question (4a in Appendix B) contains 5 categories (very spiritual, moderately spiritual, slightly spiritual, not at all spiritual, and no answer). The data in Table 4.1 are presented as a crosstab with grouped belief in god (everyone but agnostics and atheists are considered “believers,” even though most are really more along the lines of deists and questioning agnostics). Given the presentation, it’s unclear just what percentage of the respondents do consider themselves spiritual. But if you calculate this based on the data in the book (combining Table 4.1 data with Table 2.2 data), it turns out only 34% are spiritual, not “nearly 60%” (33% chose “no answer”). My calculations also more closely match the numbers provided in a footnote (p. 195) regarding the qualitative data that suggest at least 59% are not spiritual and the remaining 41% fall along a continuum of spirituality. Thus, neither the quantitative nor the qualitative data support the claim that nearly 60% of elite scientists are at least somewhat spiritual. By my calculations, somewhere between 30% and 40% may consider themselves at least somewhat spiritual.

Additional efforts are made to paint the scientists as being more spiritual than they likely are by simply allowing the scientists to define “spiritual” however they want (p. 55). While self-definition isn’t inherently problematic, the spirituality scientists describe is completely devoid of anything supernatural (p. 53), which the book and the scientists realize is not how spirituality is commonly used among the religious (p. 55). One of the respondents describes this quite well, “That feeling you get standing by the seashore looking out over the endless expanse of water. Or standing in the rain forest listening to the insects and the birds and their huge diversity and incomprehensibility. Or the feeling you get considering the age of all things in existence and how long it could go on. Sort of awe at the totality of things. If that’s what spirituality is, then I get it. But I have the feeling I am missing the point when I say things like that, because my Christian friends don’t talk that way. They seem to mean something else.” (p. 63). If what is described here is spirituality, which it may be, then my guess is that almost every single respondent in the study would have considered him or herself spiritual if it were framed this way in the survey and interview. While I support the decision to let the respondents define spirituality themselves, and I think the book does a decent job describing this secular spirituality, I also think it would have been worthwhile to contrast their understandings of spirituality with those of very religious individuals and to wrestle with definitions of spirituality. The end result would likely have been a clearer picture of the spiritual lives of scientists.

In order to illustrate that science and religion are compatible, the book argues that the 53% of scientists who have left the religions of their childhood (87% raised with religions; 35% still claim an identification) generally did not do so because of science (p. 22). However, the alternative reasons given for leaving (e.g., bad experiences with religion, philosophical arguments, religion being boring) are generally not supported by the evidence provided. In fact, after reading this section of the book, it seemed to me as though most of the scientists who had left the religions of their childhood did so because of science. And, in fact, the claim that science and religion were not a source of conflict for these scientists is actually countered by a later finding that the scientists who have retained their childhood religions did so despite experiencing conflict between their scientific interests and religion (pp. 29-30). The claim that non-religious scientists left for reasons other than conflict between religion and science fits into one of the assumptions of the book previously discussed, that science and religion are reconciliable. This is, in fact, one of the times when one of the assumptions in the book is actually laid bare, “The assumption that becoming a scientist necessarily leads to loss of religious commitment is not supported…” (p. 26). This seems like a case of interpreting findings so they fit pre-conceived assumptions rather than simply reporting the findings as they are.

Another claim in the book that is used to help justify the assumptions (that scientists should have nuanced views and discuss religion openly) are the claims that: students are very religious (more so than their professors; pp. 74-75), are interested in exploring spirituality (p. 89), and that religion on campus is experiencing a resurgence (p. 7). However, there is virtually no evidence that any of the above claims are true. It is widely known that college students are less religious than their parents: they are less likely to identify with religion, less likely to attend religious services, and less likely to believe. While there may be more organized groups on campuses offering services for students than there were in years past (p. 92), all this suggests is an increase in social movement activity (which is true of all social movements in recent years, not just these organizations; see Putnam’s Bowling Alone), not an increase in student interest. And the studies she does cite claiming high levels of religiosity and interest in spirituality are not directly relevant to the population of interest – students at elite universities. One of the studies cited doesn’t even include elite universities within the sample (Cherry, DeBerg, and Porterfield 2001), and the other is a general sample of students in the U.S. that uses terrible methodology and flawed question framing to inflate student religiosity and spirituality (Bonderud and Fleischer 2003). The book goes so far as to claim that religious students are pursuing higher education at the same rates as non-religious students (p. 154), which would seem to support her assumptions, but this claim is immediately contradicted in a footnote attached to this claim. Why claim something only to literally contradict it yourself within the same breath? Building a case that students are religious and interested in spirituality would support the assumptions of the book, if those were legitimate claims. But they are not, and are misleading at best.

Finally, the book illustrates a bias favoring religion over non-religion. The non-religious are depicted as nihilists who are not interested in questions about the meaning of life (pp. 17-18). Their lack of religiosity is also claimed to result in the non-religious scientists having little or no vocabulary for considering the moral implications of their work (p. 88), as though the only people who can consider the moral consequences of science are religious people. Secular scientists are also described as being concerned primarily with their own self-interest and it is suggested that this self-interest results in them playing favorites with their students or even undermining them, all in the interest of self-promotion (pp. 38 & 85). In contrast, religious scientists are depicted as being particularly caring with their students, treating them fairly and equally, and this caring ethic is claimed to result directly from their religious values (pp. 38 & 85). That the author finds this is not surprising considering she only asked the religious scientists how their religiosity makes them better scientists and people but didn’t think to ask the non-religious scientists how their morals and ethics make them better scientists and people. If you only ask the religious scientists what makes them good people, you’re only going to be able to report what they say. This reflects a bias in methodology that can only lead to biased interpretations. There is no way to depict non-religious scientists positively if you don’t bother to ask them to describe themselves in positive ways!

Ecklund’s book, if read very carefully, does provide a picture of the religious and spiritual views of elite scientists. But getting an accurate picture requires the reader to unpack assumptions and calculate statistics for him or herself.

(Note: A shorter version of this review was published in the Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion here.)

Title:
Mason, Michael, Andrew Singleton, and Ruth Webber. 2008. The Spirit of Generation Y: Young People’s Spirituality in a Changing Australia. John Garratt Publishing.

Rating:
7/10

Review:
I met one of the authors of this book, Andrew Singleton, at the annual conference I attend on the social science of religion. Andrew’s a very cool guy. When he mentioned that he’d recently published a book, I told him I’d be interested in reading it, so he kindly sent me a copy. I read this last summer but am only now getting around to reviewing it.

Basically, the book is an authoritative examination of the religiosity/spirituality of Generation Y Australians (people born between 1981 and 1995; p. 12). The research was conducted from 2003-2006 and employs a mixed method approach, combining interviews, participant observation, and nationally representative surveys.

The major selling point of the book are the data. It’s pretty clear the authors have compiled a very good set of data on Generation Y in Australia. They also do an excellent job analyzing the data, digging pretty deeply into many aspects of religiosity and spirituality. In fact, the depth of analysis may be a bit too much for the average lay reader, but I can imagine that another target audience will find the information at just the right level – religious leaders interested in attracting young people to their religions (or trying to stop them from leaving). As a social scientist, I didn’t find the analysis to be overly technical. The breadth of the analysis is also very good; the authors cover a lot of topics, though it does take quite a bit of space to do so.

There are some problems with the book, but I wouldn’t really consider them major problems. First is the title, which the authors seem to have discussed among themselves as they address the topic of the title and “spirituality” multiple times. The use of the word “spirit” in the title is, from my perspective, problematic. As the authors note, the term “spirit” can mean lots of things. The roots are religious (p. 35), but “spirit” can also refer to the essence of humans (p. 15). But the authors also offer two additional understandings of spirituality that are, well, bizarre. In one definition they claim that spirituality is the equivalent of “reason” (p. 34), which makes no sense. And when they do finally define spirituality, they come up with the following, “We define spirituality as a conscious way of life based on a transcendent referent.” (p. 39). Unfortunately, this definition doesn’t work, especially given the task they have set out for themselves – to explore the religiosity/spirituality of Generation Y. If you suggest that spirituality includes a “transcendent” referent, then anyone who does not adhere to ideas of transcendence can be said to not be spiritual or not have a spirit. Given that a large percentage of Generation Y is not religious and some of them are explicitly Nonreligious (p. 207), this means these people are not spiritual. This is particular awkward when, on page 207, the unaffiliated are divided into three groups and those groups are referred to as their “Secular spirituality type,” which is a contradiction (at least, it is in my understanding of those two terms). In short, calling the book “The Spirit of Generation Y” was not a good choice. A better choice would have been something like “Religion, Spirituality, and Secularism Among Generation Y.”

Another problem with the book is the theoretical perspective. Well, I guess I should rephrase that – the theoretical perspectives. The book discusses a number of theoretical approaches, approaches that examine a variety of levels of religion (macro, meso, and micro level religiosity), but they are not particularly clear which approach they employ. At one point they delve into a lengthy discussion of postmodernist theories (p. 45), but it’s unclear exactly how this discussion is translated into their findings. I think it lies at the root of their discussion of individualism, which they see as an important characteristic influencing the religiosity of Generation Y in Australia, but that connection isn’t very explicit. Ten pages later, the authors say they agree with “moderate” secularization theories, like that of Steve Bruce (p. 58), but don’t bring the issue of secularization back up again but rarely in the rest of the book. While individual level postmodernist theories and macro level theories of secularization aren’t contradictory, it’s not perfectly clear how these theories relate to their findings. This part of the book could have been better developed as the theoretical discussion is interesting, but then mostly abandoned once the data are presented.

So, what are the findings of the book? The authors break up Generation Y into three groups: the traditional-Christian religious type (about 46%), the New Age type (17%), the Secular type (28%), Theists (3%) and the Other type (6%; people who are religious, but not Christian; p. 69). The above numbers are a bit misleading. Only 17% of Generation Y are active traditional Christians (about 37% of this group); the rest are only somewhat or nominally involved (p. 141). Thus, while it appears from the initial numbers that almost half of Generation Y Australians are involved in religion, the number is closer to about 20%.

The authors also find that the fastest growing segment of the population is the non-religious. Table 3.6 is interesting enough to warrant reproducing here as it shows that the general trend is toward non-religion: those raised non-religious remain so for the most part, but those raised in each of the other religious groups lose about 20% of their offspring to non-religion:

This mirrors changes in religiosity in Australia generally at all age groups – religious affiliation and attendance have declined dramatically over the last 40 years in Australia (p. 51). Lack of religion doesn’t mean non-belief; 35% of the non-religious are atheists (which is about 10% of Generation Y), but 44% are uncertain in their belief and only 21% believe in a god outright (p. 82). When people leave religion, they only retain the least “costly” beliefs – they believe in “something out there,” but that’s about it. In a sense, then, they are no longer religious in any meaningful way (p. 55). Declines in religious affiliation have been accompanied by declines in attendance – only about 20% of Generation Y attends weekly (p. 99), but those numbers are self-reported, which means they are likely inflated, like they are in the US (though this isn’t discussed).

In a refreshing change, the authors offer reasons why people are leaving religion that aren’t rooted in the idea that they are all sinners. Instead, a lot of the discussion revolves around things like religion being boring (p. 104; even >50% of those who are religious say this) or religious people and leaders being hypocrites (p. 113), though religion being unbelievable and theodicy are both mentioned as well (p. 221). In other words, people aren’t leaving religion because they are offended or want to sin; they are leaving because it is irrelevant, boring, unbelievable, or perceived as bad.

Using multivariate regression analysis (both OLS and logistic), the authors predict why what factors are important to the religiosity/spirituality/irreligion of Generation Y. The factors that predict active religious involvement include: having active parents, belonging to certain denominations, attending with friends, and attending religious schools. Gender, parents’ birthplace, socioeconomic status, education, rural/urban region, and living away from home are not predictive of religious activity (pp. 154-155). New Agers are more likely to be female than male and more likely to watch TV (one more reason not to watch TV; pp. 193-194 and p. 249). Seculars are more likely to be male than female.

There are some significant differences between the three types of religiosity (the authors call it spirituality, but I’m not going to). The most likely to volunteer are the traditionally religious, but the authors note that many seculars volunteer as well (p. 224) and new age women raised Christian are the most likely to engage in altruistic activities (p. 282). There are no differences in civic knowledge (p. 277), but seculars score lower in social concern, altruism, positive human values and compassion (p. 224). The authors also find that there is a general ignorance of world religions among all members of Generation Y (p. 178), but no religious group is more or less ignorant than the others.

In an interesting twist on the U.S. situation, the authors note that it is those who are still religious – the traditional Christians – who are most likely to be teased in Australia, and not the non-religious, who are far more likely to experience discrimination here in the U.S. (based on my own research; p. 163).

What the authors ultimately note as one of the most important characteristics for all members of Generation Y is the supremacy given to individual experience and personal views (p. 118). Generation Y doesn’t want to be told what to believe nor how to express their belief; they want to experience religion/spirituality/irreligion for themselves and arrive at their own beliefs. That is an intriguing finding that doesn’t bode well for old models of religion.

The book concludes with suggestions to ministers and other individuals who work with youth in religious and possibly non-religious settings for how to minister to young people and address their religious/spiritual needs. The fact that this section is included does suggest that this book is geared more toward youth pastors than toward a lay or professional audience, but the book is still informative for the latter two groups. And, if you’re pressed for time but would like to get a sense of the major arguments and findings of the book, you could simply read Chapter 12, which summarizes the contents of the book in a pretty clear way.

Overall, this is an excellent analysis of the religiosity/spirituality/irreligiosity of Generation Y in Australia. The data are compelling, though the theoretical arguments underlying the findings aren’t well-developed. There aren’t many new “revelations” for social scientists in here, but this book would serve as a great reference for confirmed findings. If you’re an academic looking for a primer on religiosity in Australia, this would be a great book for you. But the real target audience is likely the dwindling number of pastors and religious leaders in Australia who may want to try (futilely, in my opinion) to stem the losses from their congregations by targeting young people. The book certainly gives useful suggestions, but I think it is a losing battle.

Tavris, Carol, and Elliot Aronson. 2008. Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts. Reprint. Mariner Books.

Rating:
8/10

Review:
In my opinion, one of the most fascinating domains of social scientific inquiry is social psychology – the intersection between social forces and individual behavior. Social psychologists study the affect of society on the individual, and, in the process, they have discovered some remarkable things about human behavior. This book documents some of those amazing findings.

My only major criticism of the book is that there is no clear organizational framework. It’s almost as if the authors said, “Hmm… These social psychological ideas are interesting. Let’s write a book and simply roll some dice as to the order of the chapters.” Other than the lack of organization, the book is actually quite well-written, with lucid examples and great stories. You’ll see as I describe some of the more fascinating ideas examined in the book that there doesn’t really seem to be a framework for the discussion of these ideas.

The basic idea that underlies the book is that humans suffer from cognitive dissonance, which is the result of self-justification. Our desire to justify our behavior is far more powerful than most of us realize. In fact, most of us find it next to impossible to admit that we are wrong or that we have made a mistake. In fact, when confronted with evidence that we have made a mistake, most of us don’t admit it but actually become even more dogmatic in our self-justifications (p. 2). Why do we do this? Self-justification is actually very healthy in one sense: it allows us to sleep at night and not fret about the decisions we’ve made (pp. 9-10). If we were honest with ourselves and the mistakes we’ve made, we’d spend all of our time torturing ourselves over our stupidity (pause to think about this for a second and you’d realize it’s true; just think about all the mistakes you made yesterday…).

So, self-justification is healthy in one sense. But it’s also very, very dangerous. Why? Because self-justification prevents us from seeing our errors, admitting our errors, and correcting our errors (pp. 9-10). Rather than admit that we are wrong or that we made a mistake, we tend to want to self-justify in order to maintain a positive self-concept. We prefer, “I’m a good person and I do good things” over “I’m an average person who is susceptible to major blunders and serious mistakes.” And, in fact, the first is generally healthier as it prevents immobilizing rumination; but the second leads to progress, growth, and improvement.

As noted above, self-justification is the underlying cause of cognitive dissonance. “Cognitive dissonance is a state of tension that occurs whenever a person holds two cognitions (ideas, attitudes, beliefs, opinions) that are psychologically inconsistent, such as “Smoking is a dumb thing to do because it could kill me” and “I smoke two packs a day.” Dissonance produces mental discomfort, ranging from minor pangs to deep anguish; people don’t rest easy until they find a way to reduce it.” (p. 13). Understanding cognitive dissonance helps explain a lot of human behavior. For instance, it explains why we are so resistant to accepting new ideas – they suggest that our current ideas are wrong or outdated, which would suggest that we are wrong or outdated and accepting that means we aren’t the “good people” we want to believe we are. So, rather than accept ideas that are better supported by evidence, logic, or reason, we tend to dismiss them if they do not align with our current views (p. 18). These mental gymnastics are called “confirmation bias,” or the tendency to accept evidence that supports our views while dismissing evidence that disconfirms our views.

Having set up the social psychological phenomena of interest, the book now turns to practical implications of these phenomena. It’s at this point that the sense of organization kind of disappears. The information is profound, but there’s no rhyme or reason to how it is presented. Anyway, here are some of the really cool insights…

One way to save yourself money – don’t ever ask someone who just bought something you’re considering buying their opinion of it (p. 22). Why? Because they are in a process of self-justification, particularly if the purchase was costly and they can’t undo it. In practical terms, that means they are trying to convince themselves they’ve done the right thing, which means they’ll try to convince you they have as well. So, while it may seem like the person to ask about a purchase is someone who just made it, that person is generally not going to provide you with good feedback because they are justifying their purchase to themselves. (Note: I just did this with our new cell phones. Admittedly I am impressed, but I’m sure some of that is justification of the cost.) Who should you ask, then? Ask someone who is considering buying what you’re looking at – they are still open-minded and are considering the evidence more objectively (p. 23).

The authors describe another social psychological phenomenon that most readers will likely recognize from your everyday interactions, though not by name the social psychological name: “naïve realism.” Naïve realism is “the inescapable conviction that we perceive objects and events clearly” (p. 42). As a result, we believe any other “reasonable” person will perceive things the same way we do, and that if they don’t, it’s because they aren’t seeing things clearly. “Naïve realism creates a logical labyrinth because it presupposes two things: One, people who are open-minded and fair ought to agree with a reasonable opinion. And two, any opinion I hold must be reasonable; if it weren’t, I wouldn’t hold it. Therefore, if I can just get my opponents to sit down here and listen to me, so I can tell them how things really are, they will agree with me. And if they don’t, it must be because they are biased.” (p. 42). What are the authors saying here? They’re saying that it is possible that: (A) You’re the one who is holding the unreasonable position, or (B) two reasonable people can have competing understandings of the same events. Now that is hard to admit!

The authors make note of another implication of self-justification that I discuss regularly in my classes: privilege. “When affluent people speak of the underprivileged, they rarely bless their lucky stars that they are privileged, let alone consider that they might be overprivileged. Privilege is their blind spot. It is invisible; they don’t think twice about it; they justify their social position as something they are entitled to. In one way or another, all of us are blind to whatever privileges life has handed us, even if those privileges are temporary. Most people who normally fly in what is euphemistically called the “main cabin” regard the privileged people in business and first class as wasteful snobs, if enviable ones. Imagine paying all that extra money for a short, six-hour flight! But as soon as they are the ones paying for a business seat or are upgraded, that attitude vanishes, replaced by a self-justifying mixture of pity and disdain for their fellow passengers, forlornly trooping past them into steerage.” (p. 44). Self-justification prevents us from seeing the social structure of society that leads to both affluence and poverty; we like to believe that we are responsible for our successes, but not for our failures. However, we don’t allow others the same opportunity for self-justification. We fall prey to the fundamental attribution error (which, for some reason, the authors don’t mention by name): We blame other people’s mistakes on them being bad people, but never accept responsibility for our own mistakes; we attribute our mistakes to social forces outside our control. Thus, the thinking is, “Poor people ARE responsible for their position in life. They obviously aren’t: working hard enough, living righteously, etc.” The reality is that, just like you, their social position is largely outside of their control due to largely immutable social structures. But self-justification prevents us from seeing those social structures.

In a great illustration of the power of self-justification, the authors note that our very memories change based on our ability to justify our behaviors and beliefs. “Social psychologist Anthony Greenwald once described the self as being ruled by a “totalitarian ego” that ruthlessly destroys information it doesn’t want to hear and, like all fascist leaders, rewrites history from the standpoint of the victor. But whereas a totalitarian ruler rewrites history to put one over on future generations, the totalitarian ego rewrites history to put one over on itself.” (p. 70). To drive this point home, the authors summarize the findings of another study, “Just as our current feelings about our parents shape our memories of how they treated us, our current self-concepts affect memories of our own lives. In 1962, Daniel Offer, then a young resident in psychiatry, and his colleagues interviewed 73 fourteen-year-old boys about their home lives, sexuality, religion, parents, parental discipline, and other emotionally charged topics. Offer and his colleagues were able to reinterview almost all these fellows thirty-four years later, when they were forty-eight years old, to ask them what they remembered of their adolescence. “Remarkably,” the researchers concluded, “the men’s ability to guess what they had said about themselves in adolescence was no better than chance.” Most of those who remembered themselves as having been bold, outgoing teenagers, had, at age fourteen, described themselves as shy. Having lived through the sexual revolution of the 1970s and 1980s, the men recalled themselves as having been much more liberal and adventurous sexually as teenagers than they really had been. Nearly half remembered that as teenagers they believed that having sexual intercourse as high-school students was okay, but only 15 percent of them actually felt that way when they were fourteen. The men’s current self-concepts blurred their memories, bringing their past selves into harmony with their present ones.” (p. 78). Think about this in relation to your own life: A large part of what you “remember” is actually not true, but a recreation of your youth based upon how you think about yourself now. It’s unnerving to realize that is the case, but it’s true!

Some of the more disturbing implications of self-justification are addressed in detail. For instance, police officers and crime victims can be deceived by self-justification to the point that they will convict innocent people of crimes they did not commit simply because they arrived at the conclusion that an initial suspect was the guilty party. This ability is so powerful that, even when confronted with incontrovertible evidence – including admissions of guilt by the actual perpetrator – police officers and crime victims still believe it is the innocent person.

Another disturbing implication was the wave of “recovered memories” that blew through the U.S. in the 1990s. Most of these “recovered memories” included harrowing experiences of sexual abuse of children, yet almost all of these claimed “recovered memories” were found to be fabricated. “Why would people claim to remember that they had suffered harrowing experiences if they hadn’t, especially when that belief causes rifts with families or friends? By distorting their memories, these people can “get what they want by revising what they had,” and what they want is to turn their present lives, no matter how bleak or mundane, into a dazzling victory over adversity. Memories of abuse also help them resolve the dissonance between “I am a smart, capable person” and “My life sure is a mess right now” with an explanation that makes them feel good and removes responsibility: “It’s not my fault my life is a mess.” (p. 94). Self-justification can ruin lives! (Oh, and just an FYI, the authors note that people don’t repress traumatic events – the scientific evidence at this point suggests that simply doesn’t happen; p. 112).

To me, some of the most fascinating findings are actually practical bits of advice for couples. If you want your relationship to succeed, avoid or minimize self-justification. Most fights between couples are the result of self-justification, “Before the couple realizes it, they have taken up polarized positions, each feeling right and righteous. Self-justification will then cause their hearts to harden against the entreaties of empathy.” (p. 161). The keys to a happy relationship? The authors suggest two: First, couples need to be able and willing to see the other person’s perspective. Relationships mired in self-justification won’t survive because the other person is seen only as a bad person, not as someone who is also trying to self-justify (p. 180). Second, couples need to have at least a 5-to-1 positive to negative interaction ratio (p. 173). The authors note that for positives to outweigh negatives in a relationship, you have to have at least 5 times more positive interactions than negative ones, or the negative interactions begin to consume the relationship – that’s how powerful negative interactions are.

The authors also note that retaliation is never at the same level as the initial slight – it’s always more severe. This appears to be hard-wired into us. Whenever we experience a slight that causes us pain, we interpret that pain is far more intense than it actually is. As a result, if we decide to retaliate, we always do so at a much higher level (p. 192). The practical implication is that retaliation should be avoided; turning the other cheek is really the only sensible response unless you want an unending cycle of escalation.

Finally, the authors note that self-justification is bolstered by high self-esteem: people with the highest self-esteems are actually the most brutal perpetrators of violence (p. 200. Why? Because they CAN’T be wrong. They are so convinced they are right that any action they take must be justified. Most brutal dictators fall into this category – they have very high self-esteems and believe they were doing good when they murdered their political enemies (p. 205).

Given the clear problem with self-justification, what do the authors suggest as a possible solution? “Given that everyone has some blind spots, our greatest hope of self-correction lies in making sure we are not operating in a hall of mirrors, in which all we see are distorted reflections of our own desires and convictions. We need a few trusted naysayers in our lives, critics who are willing to puncture our protective bubble of self-justifications and yank us back to reality if we veer too far off. This is especially important for people in positions of power.” (p. 66). In other words, that annoying friend or relative who periodically suggests that you may be wrong… Yeah, they may be on to something.

Overall, this is a profound book with fascinating insights into human behavior. While the organization of the book is problematic, the writing is lucid and compelling. But more importantly, the authors offer insights into everyday human behavior that are both awe-inspiring and disturbing. Understanding the basic arguments may not be that difficult, but putting that understanding into practice… Well… That’s the challenge.

Title:
Karger, Howard. 2005. Shortchanged: Life and Debt in the Fringe Economy. illustrated edition. Berrett-Koehler Publishers.

Rating:
9/10

Review:
Shortchanged examines the sector of the economy that caters to the credit-challenged and vulnerable; the author calls this the “fringe economy.” What marks a business or corporation as a participant in the fringe economy? The basic criteria is that their business practices are predatory, meaning they are preying on the vulnerable in ways designed to maximize profit and minimize benefit to the consumer. AND, these practices are extremely predatory, far beyond those deemed acceptable in our society generally – i.e., interest rates ranging from 19% for a home loan to 400% for a two week payday loan (p. x). Additionally, fringe economy institutions offer no financial services that will result in asset growth for consumers (p. 198); they are strictly designed to strip consumers of wealth.

The fringe economy is not made up of small mom-and-pop stores but rather is controlled by massive corporations, many of which have ties to mainstream banks and lenders (some of which participate in the fringe economy directly; p. x). It’s also worth noting how large the fringe economy is: There are more check-cashing and payday lender stores in the U.S. than there are Wal-Marts, Burger Kings, Targets, McDonald’s, Sears, and J.C. Penney outlets COMBINED! (About 33,000 when the book was published.) The revenues are also staggering. If you exclude subprime home mortgages and used car sales, the revenue of the fringe economy in 2001 was about $78 billion, which is more than half of what the Federal Government spends on poverty assistance programs (about $125 billion). If you include subprime mortgage lending and car loans, the fringe economy is about 3 times as large as the Federal Government’s anti-poverty programs (p. 6). This suggests that the structure of the U.S. Economy is designed to maintain stratification and poverty rather than to eradicate it.

The fringe economy makes most of its profit on financing and fees (p. 11). The goal is to charge high interest rates on whatever goods or services are being provided, whether it is renting-to-own furniture or a loan on a pawned item. Of course, goods and services are also over-priced, but the goal is to stretch out the payments for as long as possible to maximize the profit through interest. One good example of this is comes from the rent-to-own chapter, where a $100 VCR was described as having made a rent-to-own company over $1,000 by being financed and repossessed multiple times. It’s not about selling goods but rather getting people to finance goods and services at ridiculous rates.

Also discussed in detail in the book is the growth of the fringe economy. The number and percentage of people in the U.S. using the fringe economy has grown over the last 20-30 years (exact numbers are impossible to give, but it’s probably close to 40% of Americans). This seems a little counter-intuitive as we did have an economic boom in the late 1990s. But one of the driving forces of that boom was actually consumer spending, which was driving by consumers removing the equity from their homes (a fringe economy practice). Other factors that contributed were the growth of immigrants (who are particularly likely to use the fringe economy), the reforming of welfare policy and law in the U.S., which kicked a lot of people off of welfare but didn’t stop them from being poor, the rising cost of necessities (e.g., utilities, food, transportation, etc.), and the general stagnation of wages, which have not increased substantially since the 1970s for everyone but the very wealthy (p. 18-21). Basically, about 43% of Americans spend more every year than they earn (p. 18). These are the individuals who are targeted by the fringe economy (and are the individuals and the greedy bastards who took advantage of them that led to our recent recession). They are made up of single mothers, Americans living paycheck to paycheck (about 53% of Americans), the chronically underemployed (e.g., the over 50% of Wal-Mart employees who are underemployed so they don’t get benefits), and immigrants (p. 21).

While it’s hard to think that individual consumers aren’t 100% responsible for their spending habits (we’re awfully individualistic in the U.S.), it is worth noting that there is a lot of marketing in the U.S. that is specifically designed to increase consumer spending. And its not like our government doesn’t want us to spend money – consumer spending accounts for 2/3 of the U.S. economy (p. 31), which is a recipe for disaster considering we cannot continue to outspend our earnings, though we’ve certainly tried. What this has led to is a massive debt load for families in the U.S., totaling $19,000 on average in 2004 (not including mortgage debt). While the over-spending isn’t the only reason why we’re having problems, it is a major factor (p. 34).

After setting up all of the above, the book then digs into the different sectors of the fringe economy, looking at each in detail. It covers: credit cards (the most profitable banking sector; p. 49), FICO scores, payday lenders, pawn shops, check cashers, used-car loans, subprime lending, tax preparation, rent-to-own, and credit repair companies. A few points made about these sectors of the fringe economy are worth mentioning.

I didn’t realize before reading this book just how predatory the fringe economy is. What drove this point home to me was the discussion of tax preparation and “refund anticipation loans.” The Federal Government returns money to the working poor from their taxes. This is designed to help raise the poor out of poverty and is called the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC; it’s for the working poor). Tax preparers target individuals who qualify for this by charging very high tax preparation fees and then offering a “refund anticipation loan,” which is basically money now rather than in two weeks. For the poor, that’s an exciting proposition. However, those loans, along with the other fees charged by these companies (the biggest is H&R Block), take $1.8 billion out of the EITC, or about 6% of the money that is supposed to go to the poor instead goes to those preying on the poor (p. 83). In other words, even programs designed to help the poor get out of poverty end up enriching the middle and upper class, who prey on the poor.

Many of the companies that provided subprime loans during their heyday claimed they were helping people achieve the American dream. They also targeted minorities, who are, statistically speaking, less affluent than whites. “In 2002, 27% of subprime loans went to African Americans, almost 20% to Hispanics, and 16% to Native Americans; by comparison, only 7.4% of subprime loans went to whites.” (p. 114). We now know, after the housing collapse (the book was written before it and predicted it), that minorities have been hit harder by the recession than have other groups. These statistics illustrate why.

I didn’t realize that used car dealerships are more profitable than new car dealerships (p. 155), but they are. This is because of their ridiculous financing rates and the fact that they repossess about 30% of the cars they sale. Oh, and the companies that attempt to consolidate debt – most of them are either owned by or closely allied with credit card companies, which have a vested interest in having people pay back their debt (p. 175).

The author includes suggestions for reform throughout, but concludes with the following four-pronged approach (p. 199):
-Instituting more-robust federal and state regulation of the fringe economy
-Empowering consumers through advocacy and helping them achieve financial literacy
-Encouraging traditional banks and other mainstream financial institutions to serve low-income populations in a nonpredatory fashion
-Developing more and better-funded community-based financial institutions”

I like this book enough that I use it in my Sociology of Stratification class to illustrate economic stratification. The book isn’t without its problems, but they are relatively minor. First, it is a bit repetitive at times, repeating facts and figures in multiple chapters. It’s also a bit dry at times, but tries to balance the boredom inducing recitation of numbers with stories to illustrate the points. Despite these minor problems, this book does a great job of driving home the point: the fringe economy preys on the poor and keeps them poor.

A couple of additional points that don’t receive enough discussion in the book are also worth noting. While the predatory practices of the fringe economy work to maintain stratification by unduly burdening the already poor with financial penalties for being poor, the major factor that keeps the poor poor is the structure of our society and economic system. This is mentioned only in passing at the very end of the book, when the author notes, “In 2004 the top 29,000 Americans had as much income as the bottom 96 million. In 1970 the bottom third of all Americans had more than ten times the income of the top 1/100 of 1%, or the top 29,000. By 2000 they were equal because the bottom third’s income fell while the top group’s income went through the roof. In short, it’s easy to blame the fringe economy for what is essentially an economic and labor market problem. Although labor market reforms are beyond the scope of this book, they must be part of any strategy to rein in the fringe economy.” (p. 200). I discuss this issue in detail in my class, but casual readers of this book won’t get the importance of this point from this passing note.

Another issue that is glossed over is the fact that there is virtually no financial education of Americans, “For example, when a group of adults were given a 14-question test of financial literacy, the average score was 42%. Eighty-two percent of high school seniors failed a 13-question quiz examining their knowledge of issues like interest rates, savings, loans, credit cards, and calculating net worth.” (p. 203). This is driven home in my classes by the fact that students are remarkably uneducated about most of the stuff we discuss. Having learned a lot of the information I know about finances in the school of “hard knocks,” I feel an obligation to inform my students about as much of this as I can. I’ve also seen this in every day life. Most of the people I’ve talked finances with have never heard of CDs, couldn’t tell me what bonds are, and have no idea how the stock market works. If they have any excess money, it’s either in their home or a checking account, earning them no interest. Why isn’t financial literacy taught in high school?

Two final points. First, the author does raise a question that you might have asked yourself, “Don’t the credit problems of some fringe economy customers justify the high interest rates?” (p. xv). It’s a good question. The author doesn’t answer it directly, but suggests it warrants scrutiny, “The obvious answer is yes. Most of us wouldn’t lend money to some fringe economy customers because it would be financially imprudent. But at what point does the profit so overshadow the risks that the transaction becomes predatory?” (p. xv). I don’t know that there is a good answer to that question, but it does warrant closer scrutiny.

Finally, there is one quote in the book that I thought was really, really good. David K. Shipler, author of the book “The Working Poor: Invisible in America” said this about the working poor, “The term by which they are usually described, ‘working poor,’ should be an oxymoron. Nobody who works hard should be poor in America.” (p. 21). I agree. Do you?

Overall, this is an excellent illustration of how our economic system takes from the poor, keeping them poor, and gives to the rich.

Title:
Watts, Peter. 2008. Starfish. Tor Books.

Rating:
6/10

Review:
The plot of the book is quite complicated and left in large part to the reader to figure out. Here’s my interpretation of what happens: The book takes place at an unspecified point in the not too distant future. At this unspecified time, human technology is highly advanced, corporations are extremely powerful, governments are weak and have factioned into disparate geographical entities, and, most importantly, the demand for power has risen exponentially (in order to maintain order in the face of entropy). To meet these demands, a company, the Grid Authority (GA), uses new technology to begin harvesting thermal energy from ocean vents thousands of meters below sea level. While the ultimate goal of the GA for these power generating plants is that they be fully automated, technology is not sufficiently developed to allow that. Instead, the GA recruits individuals to work on the rift stations (variously called “rifters” or “vampires”). Unlike, say, the movie Abyss where humans require deep sea suits and extensive gear to survive at this depth, the technology of the time is sufficiently advanced to literally alter the rifters physically such that they can breathe underwater and have no pockets of air inside them, meaning they don’t have to worry about sea pressure outside the deep sea stations. Additionally, they have highly advanced suits that protect them from temperature variations and most other threats of the deep and eye lenses that allow them to see in the murky depths 3000 meters under water.

The book begins with two rifters getting settled upon the focal rift station, Beebe, at the Channer Vent (a vent on the Axial Volcano on the Juan de Fuca Ridge in the Pacific Ocean; actual place, by the way). One of them, Lenie Clarke, is the focal character of the book. Lenie has a very troubled history of physical and sexual abuse and was recruited precisely because of that history, as one of the chief scientists involved in the rifter project, Yves Scanlon, believes that psychologically disturbed people may do better as rifters than psychologically healthy people. Turns out that Scanlon is correct – living as a rifter somehow fits Lenie and her problems. She quickly adjusts to life on the bottom of the sea and becomes so comfortable she doesn’t want to leave. Once the scientists realize that disturbed people tend to do better on the rift than do healthy people, they send down five more rifters to Lenie’s station.

Life as a rifter doesn’t suit all of the rifters and some lose it. But one, Ken Acton, who becomes Lenie’s lover for a short while, discovers something interesting about being on the bottom of the sea: slight modifications to the enhancements GA made to the rifters actually give them heightened senses, allowing the rifters to basically develop a mild form of telepathy; they can sense the presence, emotions, and intentions of those around them.

It’s unclear if the next plot point is related to the telepathic powers, but it seems like it might be. After sending Scanlon down to observe the rifters, GA scientists discover he is infected with a primitive form of RNA (?ehemoth) that exists only at this rift location and nowhere else. The GA scientists who examine this alternative form of RNA aren’t sure what it does, but they do believe it has the potential to wipe out all life that exists with the RNA and DNA we know and with which we are familiar. They call this newly discovered form ?ehemoth (the key being the ?); the familiar life is called Alpha. This is derived based on the fact that ?ehemoth out competes Alpha in the standard biosphere in which humans and most life exist on the earth; ?ehemoth just never made it there as it doesn’t thrive in the cold, which kept it on the rift where it evolved for billions of years. Once the GA scientists realize this RNA exists, they realize that they have to destroy it to prevent its spread. Unfortunately, that includes killing all the crew of Beebe station as it is assumed they are infected (which may also explain their new powers). However, the crew of Beebe realize something is up and, for the most part, escape. They do so just in time as the GA sets off a massive nuke near Beebe not longer after they abandon the station. The book ends with the woman who gave the order to set off the nuke, Patricia Rowan, feeling regret and Lenie finally, for once in her life, wanting to get revenge for being victimized.

The book is engaging and, almost unbelievably, based on actual science (obviously some of it is not, but much of it is). As other reviews have suggested, this is hard core science fiction as it aims to envision the future direction of science.

I enjoyed the book, but it is not without its problems. The primary problem is that the book is simply short on detail. Perhaps this is a new writing style where details areleft to the imagination. Additionally, readers are left to guess who the new narrator is when the book jumps points-of-view, which it does frequently. If this is a new style, I’m not a huge fan. The result of the spartan descriptions and jumping POVs means the reader is left to figure out large parts of what is happening. I certainly am not opposed to figuring out parts of the plot on my own; in fact, that’s usually a good thing. But in all honesty, I’m just guessing when it comes to about 25% of the plot I outlined above. So, the book could use more detailed descriptions and better transitions when it jumps POV.

I should note, however, that some of the deeper plot points that only begin to surface in the last third of the book are likely explored in greater depth in the sequels. I didn’t realize it when I picked this book to read (my new pleasure on flights), but this book is the first in a trilogy (actually 4 books, but the last two are supposed to be just one volume). Now that I know it’s a trilogy I’m going to have to read the rest. I will return and report (probably in a year or so, when I can find the time to read some more fiction).

Fun Quotes:
To describe the Channer Vent where the Beebe Station is located, Watts uses the term “Here There Be Dragons,” which is a historical reference to danger.

In talking about a small shrimp that falls to the bottom of the ocean and is spasming in death throes just before a rifter smashes it, Lenie says, “How do you know it wasn’t dancing for fucking joy?”

Title:
Kosmin, Barry A., and Ariela Keysar. 2006. Religion in a Free Market: Religious and Non-Religious Americans. Paramount Market Publishing, Inc.

Rating:
8/10

Review:
Religion in a Free Market is actually quite simple in its aims: The religious marketplace understanding of religion is used as a theoretical framework to analyze the American Religious Identification Survey 2001 data (a.k.a. ARIS; a very large, nationally representative sample of American adults). For those unfamiliar with the religious marketplace understanding of religion, the basic idea is that religion in some societies (particularly the US) is basically unregulated, allowing for both competition between religions and pluralism (the existence of many religions). A religious marketplace also affects the nature and primary activities of religions in the sense that religions must market themselves to particular niches and change to meet market demands.

Religion in a Free Market uses the above understanding of religion to analyze the ARIS 2001 data, covering a wide range of topics, from religious attendance to variations in household size by religious affiliation to differences in the adoption of technology by denomination. Those familiar with the sociological study of religion won’t find much new in here – Jews make the most money and are the least religious; conservative Protestants and other conservative religious groups (e.g. Mormons and Muslims) are the most religious and most traditional in family structure and function. One could consider it a criticism of the book that there isn’t much new here, but that’s probably not the right way to think about the contribution of this book. Basically, it uses new, representative data to confirm previous findings in the sociology of religion and it combines all of those findings into one book, which makes it easy to find and easy to reference. This is probably the biggest contribution of the book.

There are a few other tidbits in here that are worth noting. For instance, few scholars who employ the religious marketplace approach note that Adam Smith, one of the earliest scholars of capitalism and an advocate of free markets, actually examined religion from this perspective. That was something I learned from the book.

The book notes that the free market of religion has resulted in a large supply of religion: over 200 organized denominations and lots of independent groups combine to form over 350,000 individual religious congregations from which people can choose.

The book also provides evidence that the religions are fully aware of the fact that they are competing for religious consumers and that they plan and adjust accordingly, “The dynamic church growth movement began with Donald McGravan’s 1955 book, The Bridges of God. It was written for overseas missionaries but its ideas were adapted by local pastors who were encouraged to engage their local communities by treating potential worshippers as consumers.” (p. 11).

Another finding that is interesting though possibly not as well explained as it could be is the decline in Protestant denominationalism, “the estimated number of self-described “Christians” rose from 8.1 million in 1990 to 14.2 million in 2001 while the number of “Protestants” declined from 17.2 million to 4.7 million during this period” (p. 30). The authors attribute this to re-labeling, which is accurate, but also not quite the whole story: people are relabeling themselves not because they no longer consider themselves Protestants but because they don’t realize that they are Protestants.

Finally, there is one assertion in the book that I found problematic as it really should have been softened. The authors conclude that, “The great Scottish economist Adam Smith correctly observed that in the religious sphere, competing sects generate a ferment of activity and increased level of belief, whereas state churches or controlled and highly regulated religious markets produce indifference. We find, in the tradition of “rational choice theory” scholars, that the competition for “market share” in a religious free market seems to strengthen all of the competitors.” (p. 269). While the mostly unregulated religious marketplace of the US has likely contributed to the higher levels of religiosity in the US compared to other developed countries, there are plenty of other factors that have and continue to contribute to the higher levels, though the “high levels” of religiosity should not be exaggerated. For example, it is pretty well-established that Americans have lower levels of existential security than do Europeans (i.e., they don’t feel like they have social safety nets), and levels of security correlate with religiosity – higher security, lower religiosity and vice versa. It’s also important to keep in mind that we are not actually that religious in the U.S. – less than ¼th of Americans are in church on any given day of worship and large percentages of Americans donate very little or nothing to churches. Yes, a lot claim to believe in god and/or affiliate with a religion, but in terms of the influence of religion on peoples’ lives, it’s seems apparent that it has much less influence than it used to. Ergo, the U.S. is more religious than some countries, but the reason isn’t exclusively because of religious pluralism.

Overall, this is a great resource book for statistics on the religious makeup of the U.S. The statistics are solid and based on a reliable survey; the explanations are clear, simple, and well-founded; and the basic arguments are well-rooted in the Sociology of Religion (even though the arguments could be slightly better developed). I recommend this book for anyone who needs a good reference book for religiosity statistics on Americans.

Title:
Lackey, Mercedes, and James Mallory. 2007. When Darkness Falls: The Obsidian Trilogy, Book 3. Tor Fantasy.

Rating:
8/10

Summary:
(Warning: Spoilers!)

The third and final book in this series not surprisingly picks up where the second left off – Knight-Mage Kellen Tavadon, the elves, and the few allies they have been able to muster are locked deep in the heavy winter snows resulting from interrupted weather patterns (Book 1) and are recovering from their battles with the shadow elves and their attempt to discern how The Endarkened are gaining control of Armetheliah (Book 2). The allied forces are weak following these events and spend the first part of the book recovering and developing plans for what to do next. Vestakia is tasked with communicating with the crystal spiders found in the cave just cleared of shadow elves that seem to know the location of the final enclave. Cilarnen, with the help of a collection of High Magick books provided by the elves, has begun developing his abilities as a High Mage and is tasked with various responsibilities, including keeping an eye on Armetheliah through scrying. It’s during his scrying that he figures out the details of Queen Savilla’s plan with Anigrel to remove the magical wards on the walls of Armetheliah to allow her into the city. Anigrel is, meanwhile, trying to convince Lycaelon, Head Mage of Armatheliah and Kellen and Idalia’s father, to form an alliance with The Endarkened, something that would have once been blasphemy to the human High Mages, but with Anigrel’s recent machinations framing the Wild Mages as the enemy, is becoming more appealing.

Due to a lack of communication with Sentarshadeen, the elven capitol city, the leader of the allied armies, Redhelwar, eventually decides to send Kellen with a large portion of the army to Sentarshadeen to find out what is happening and to determine what the army’s next move should be. Along the way Kellen is to clear out and prepare a cave for refugees fleeing the advance of The Endarkened.

Jermayan, meanwhile, is tasked with transporting the elven women with child to the Fortress of the Crowned Horns with Ancaladar, his bonded dragon. In the process of accomplishing this task they arrive in one elven city to find it under siege by the forces of The Endarkened. With Jermayan and Ancaladar’s help the elves abandon the city and flee to the next elven city for protection, losing many elves and supplies in the process, but suffering fewer losses than they would have had they stayed.

Eventually Vestakia is able to discern the location of the last enclave of shadow elves, and it turns out to be the very cave where Kellen is headed, Halacira. Unfortunately her discovery is too late to warn Kellen, but his growing war experience and Knight-Mage insights make him wary enough entering the cave that he doesn’t suffer major losses as he and his forces clear the cave of shadow elves.

From the cave, Kellen continues on to Sentarshadeen to find that Andoreneil, king of the elves, has been stricken with the latest weapon of The Endarkened – plague. Andoreneil is near death, which is why there had been no directions given to the army. Jermayan, relaying all of the events to each division of the army, helps Kellen realize that the goal of The Endarkened is to divide the army, thus weakening it and keeping the allies from seeing the true goal of their enemy – Armethaliah. Once Kellen realizes this and realizes that the real goal of The Endarkened is to take Armethaliah, dividing the two strongest elements of their enemies – humans and elves – Kellen realizes he needs to reunify the army and march on Armetheliah. The problem is that the bulk of the army is over a massive mountain range and it is still deep winter, meaning it will take months to transport the army to Sentashadeen and weeks from there to Armetheliah, which will be too late. Jermayan and Ancaladar offer a solution, but it will cost them deeply – they can cast a spell that will allow the army to teleport to Kellen’s location but Jermayan and Ancaladar will likely die as a result. Recognizing the urgency, all agree that they must do this and only through the intervention of a mysterious force, The Great Hunt, are Jermayan and Ancaladar spared, though their supply of magic is forever exhausted.

With the army united and under Kellen’s direction, they march on Armetheliah. On the way they detect the army of The Endarkened, also marching on Armetheliah. Just before they reach Armetheliah, they observe a small convoy leaving the city – it is Lycaelon and Anigrel. They are headed out of the city to meet with their new allies, The Endarkened (who are demons). The Endarkened, meanwhile, have cast spells that make them look like they are humans, which is not their true form. Realizing what Queen Savilla intends, to capture Lycaelon and sacrifice him in order to bring a demon god into the world making her unstoppable, Kellen sends his forces after The Endarkened, but fails to save his father from the clutches of Queen Savilla.

The initial skirmish ends rather quickly, but it is just the beginning of the battle to come. Cilarnen, with the help of the unicorns, devises a spell that will bring down the wards protecting Armetheliah, a gamble that will allow the allies into the city to hopefully convince the human High Mages to join the allied army and fight The Endarkened. Cilarnen’s spell works and the city wards are removed, allowing Kellen’s forces access to the city. Cilarnen, Jermayan, and Idalia all enter the city and hold a meeting with the remaining members of the High Council who are now leaderless and unable to make decisions without Lycaelon and Anigrel. Luckily, Cilarnen’s father, who was banished from the Council when Cilarnen was banished from the city, steps in and pushes the Council to action, giving aid to both Kellen’s forces outside the city and to Idalia and Cilarnen, who both have tasks to perform if the allies are to win.

Cilarnen’s task is to recast the ward spells on the walls of Armetheliah to prevent The Endarkened from entering the city. Idalia, meanwhile, must figure out a way to save her father from Queen Savilla. Queen Savilla’s magic relies upon sacrifices, and the spell she plans to cast requires the sacrifice of a king or leader, thus only Lycaelon will be sufficient for her sacrifice. Idalia works with the Council to develop a plan to save Lycaelon.

Meanwhile, outside the gates, Savilla’s son, Prince Zyperis, has decided to engage Kellen’s forces in a full-on assault, believing he has them trapped against the walls of Armetheliah. And knowing that the wards are down, he believes his forces can then take Armetheliah. A massive battle ensues. The allies are woefully outnumbered, but thanks to Kellen’s insight from his Knight Magery, the allies not only repel the initial assault but hold their own and eventually seem to be gaining the upper hand. The battle rages for hours, giving Cilarnen sufficient time to raise the city wards, though he nearly dies as a result of the energy expenditure. Once the wards are raised, Prince Zyperis realizes that he has failed his mother and she will likely execute him. Believing he has one chance to redeem himself, he goes for Kellen, believing that the capture of the leader of the enemy forces may appease his mother’s anger. The battle between Kellen and Zyperis, quickly joined by Kellen’s closest friend, Shalkan, is the climactic component of the larger battle as they are basically locked in a stalemate given each other’s abilities and powers.

Meanwhile, Idalia’s plan for saving her father finally comes to fruition. She tells everyone that she knows a spell that will transport Lycaelon inside Armetheliah, but doesn’t tell them that the spell requires a specific price – someone must take his place. That someone is herself. Just as Queen Savilla is about to sacrifice Lycaelon (after she tore Anigrel’s heart out – he thought he was going to be rewarded by becoming her lover), Idalia casts the spell, swapping herself for Lycaelon. Savilla stabs her, not realizing the switch until it is too late. The gods of the Wild Magic use Idalia’s sacrifice to send out a cleansing spell that wipes Endarkened taint from the earth, destroying most of the demons in the process (though it isn’t entirely clear if Savilla and Zyperis are killed, but it seems like they are). Idalia’s sacrifice ends the battle and is the climax of the book. The cleansing magic immediately stops the spread of the plague and begins to restore life to the many areas that The Endarkened had tainted with their evil presence.

Jermayan, Idalia’s lover, realizes her intentions, but too late. And Kellen feels the sacrifice and realizes what has happened. Kellen rushes to the altar where she was sacrificed only to find Jermayan has already arrived and taken her body away in despair.

With The Endarkened defeated, their forces retreat and run, trying to escape the allies. Inside Armetheliah, Lycaelon suffers a nervous breakdown, realizing he has been saved by the very children he disowned and was betrayed by the child he adopted as his own. He resigns from the Council, leaving it leaderless. Cilarnen’s father lobbies hard for Cilarnen to replace Lycaelon as the head of the Council, and after some negotiation, it is agreed. Cilarnen is then able to begin making reforms, which are sorely needed in Armetheliah, to prevent them from falling prey to the wiles of someone like Anigrel again.

Kellen, meanwhile, turns control over the armies back to Redelhwar. Redelhwar gives him one more assignment – take whatever soldiers are willing and track down the remaining elements of The Endarkened’s forces and destroy them. When he is done, he should report to Sentarshadeen. Kellen does, spending the next couple of months tracking down the remnants of The Endarkened’s forces and destroying them.

Once complete, he returns to Sentarshadeen for Idalia’s funeral. He is then tasked with one final assignment, to return to the Fortress of the Crowned Horns and escort the women and children back to their homes. Upon arriving at the Fortress he finds Ancaladar sunning himself outside the fortress, suggesting Jermayan is inside. Upon entering Jermayan reveals the final twist of the book – the Wild Magic returned Idalia’s sacrifice with a gift, she is reincarnated as the child of Andoreneil. As she was betrothed to Jermayan, he was destined to live the remainder of his long elven life (about 1,000 years) alone, but with Idalia reborn (they know because of her distinct birth mark, which the new child has), he need only wait another 20 years or so before she is old enough for them to actually marry.

After the excitement of this realization, Kellen exits the Fortress to find Shalkan and Vestakia. Shalkan tells Kellen that his mage price, to remain celibate for a year, has now been paid (it’s been over a year since he was forced from Armetheliah and it was Shalkan who helped him escape; see Book 1). He is now free to express his romantic interest. A subplot running throughout the book is Kellen’s repressed desire to be with Vestakia, which he could not act upon without being killed by Shalkan for violating the mage price. Free, he embraces Vestakia and they ride off together. The End.

Review:
In the second book, the tedious aspect was the incessant brewing of tea. While brewing tea doesn’t end in the third book, it’s not as prominent, which is nice. But a different component takes it’s place, adding a bit of tedium to the book – the time and efforts involved in passing information back and forth between elements of the army. This probably takes up about 1/5th of the book. While it also adds a bit of realism, it does slow the book a bit.

Another component of the book that was a bit problematic was the whole notion of The Great Hunt. It seemed to be introduced as an aside, but was primarily used as a deus ex machina to ensure that Jermayan and Ancaladar didn’t die after casting their teleportation spell. What The Great Hunt was and why it was needed just wasn’t very well-developed.

Aside from these minor criticisms, I really liked the book. It’s engaging, well thought-out, and compelling. In fact, when Idalia died, I was really kind of distraught. It’s made clear in Book 1 that this will ultimately be a mage price she has to pay, but when it happened I felt it. And while it was clearly cheesy that she was reincarnated – making it so none of the main characters perished – it actually choked me up. While none of the main characters die, many secondary characters do, which also adds a bit of realism to the book. Though it does almost start to become predictable who is going to die – whoever becomes Kellen’s second in command will die (kind of like the red shirts in Star Trek). But the deaths are never dismissed and Kellen suffers each of them greatly.

Overall, the series was engaging. After reading Books 1 and 2 I found myself wondering how the story ends. I read Book 2 a year after Book 1 and was planning on waiting a year to read Book 3, but my flight to England offered a prime opportunity to do a little pleasure reading, so I only waited 6 months. Having finished the trilogy, I’m glad I happened upon it. It’s a well-developed universe with compelling characters and a generally logical (with some exceptions) plot. I highly recommend the series for fans of fantasy writing.