"Is it Miss or Mrs?": Why my marital status is no one's business but my own

Picture the scene....

A man - say, Mick - walks into a shop and wants to take out a mobile phone contract, or buy a new kitchen, or have some furniture delivered to his house. The shop assistant needs to fill in a form with his details. She gets out the paper form or pulls up the online form on the computer. The first question on the form is "Are you married?"

Pretty weird, right? Why is it relevant in any way whether or not Mick is married? It's not. He wants to buy a mobile phone, or a kitchen, or to have some furniture delivered to his house: it really does not matter whether or not he is married, and we would think it bizarre and unnecessary that he should be asked whether he is married, let alone that it should be the very first question on the form!

So, you'd like your new sofa to be delivered, would you?
Are you married? Image source: Unsplash

And yet this is what happens when women have to give their details for a form. It is almost always the case that the very first question a customer service representative asks is "Is it Miss or Mrs?" Why does the shop assistant need to know whether or not I am married? My marital status makes no difference at all to whether or not I can obtain a service. And yet the form requires that I ascribe myself a title. Why?!

This is not the 19th century, where women are the property of their husband, and it is sinful to live with a partner "over the brush", or strange for a woman my age to be unmarried. Women in 2021 are, I believe, allowed to buy a carpet or suchlike without permission from a man, whether or not I am married. Wow! The rights we girlies enjoy today! Yet I must announce (or 'admit') my marital status when I want to have a carpet delivered to my house, lest the shop delivers a carpet to me on the wrongful understanding that I am a married woman, when in fact I am unmarried. Imagine that! Think of the children!

Given that men and women supposedly have the same rights as one another in the UK today, I don't really see why titles such as Mr, Mrs and Miss are needed at all. When buying a carpet or a kitchen or a mobile phone, "Do you have a vagina?" and "What gender do you identify as?" seem utterly irrelevant questions, but this is essentially what the form is getting at when it asks me to identify my title. Titles are pointless.

Now, if someone has a non-standard title such as Captain, Reverend, Professor or Doctor, then it seems reasonable that they may want to have their title on the form, but for the rest of us, why does it matter whether I am Miss, Mrs, Ms, Mr, or Mx? It does not.

I am looking forward to the day when I don't have to tell the shop assistant whether or not I am married just because I want to buy a carpet; failing that, I will just have to look forward to the day I pass my viva and can call myself 'Doctor' Karen Lancaster. Then I can buy things and have them delivered to my house, and neither the shop nor the delivery driver will know my utterly irrelevant marital status. I hope they can handle the not knowing. Until I obtain my PhD, however, they simply MUST know whether or not I have got married.

We have made many leaps forwards in sexual equality and the recognition of transgender and non-binary people. I hope we continue to make progress. But I think that the clinging to the titles of Mr, Miss and Mrs may be holding us back. If a man does not need to announce his marital status, then why does a woman? If a woman changes her title from Miss to Mrs when she marries, why does a man's title not change from Mr? And if a transgender or non-binary person wants to identify their title as something other than Miss, Mrs or Mr, why can't they? (Mx serves this function, but is often not available on forms.)

I have a dream: I dream of a future where I can put my name into a form without having to declare that I'm an unmarried woman, and silly titles like Mrs and Miss are abolished from the English language altogether.

How inductive reasoning failed me with coronavirus

In February, I began writing a blog post saying that coronavirus would turn out to be a storm in a teacup, and although a few people would die - I estimated no more than 10,000* worldwide - it would really be nothing to write home about. I was going to wait until the virus had blown over, then write a critical piece about moral panics and how the media should stop striking fear into our hearts unnecessarily. 
* 10,000 really isn't that many, when you consider that over 55 million people die each year anyway.

Swine flu symptoms
Source: Wikimedia commons

After all, over the past 20 years, swine flu, bird flu, SARS, MERS, ebola, zika virus, and other illnesses have come and gone - illnesses which the media warned could become deadly worldwide pandemics. The pandemics that we were warned about just never happened. Zika virus, for example, killed just 53 people. And so I concluded that covid-19, like these other illnesses, would be a minuscule problem which would not impact the lives of people in the developed world in any noticeable way. 

Goodness me, I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. 

Why was I so wrong?

The problem was that I used inducive reasoning:

A pandemic has never happened in my lifetime, therefore a pandemic won't happen now.

It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that, but that really was my reasoning. There have just been so many times - particularly in the last 20 years or so - that the UK media have spotted a new illness spreading in a faraway country and created a moral panic. They said that a deadly pandemic was on its way, and we should be afraid - very afraid. But then virtually nothing happened to us. 

Perhaps when I was a teenager or young adult I was more concerned by these warnings, but as these warnings kept occurring, and with little effect on my life in the leafy suburbs of England, I began to see these pandemic warnings as just more background noise from the media. Bad news is good news in the world of newspapers, and so of course they would leap on any virus and attempt to needlessly whip up the panic among us - it sells papers (or brings in clicks).

Deadly viruses are bad for the communities which suffer them, of course, and I have every sympathy for those who suffer. But so few of them touched the UK in any way that life went on pretty much as normal for us throughout the times of these other viruses, meaning that the UK media were simply scaremongering and sensationalising, as usual.

So by about 2010, any time the media warned about a pandemic, I mentally switched off. They had said that x would cause a pandemic and it didn't; now they were saying that y would cause a pandemic. Based on experience of x being a storm in a teacup, I could be reasonably sure that y wouldn't be a pandemic either.

So when a new coronavirus began spreading around Wuhan in January, and the UK papers warned of a worldwide pandemic, I thought it would be yet another pandemic-cum-damp-squib. I was sure it would fizzle out just as the others did, without any change to life in Little England. The media had 'cried wolf' so many times before with other illnesses that I just didn't believe their pandemic warnings any more.

I was wrong not to believe them. This time the 'wolf' was real, and it was about to huff and puff and blow the world down.

Now here we are, with nearly 30,000 deaths in the UK, and over 200,000 dead worldwide, and the virus is showing no signs of abating. Everything in the UK is shut, including schools, offices, shops, leisure centres, and entertainment venues, and we aren't allowed to meet friends or family. 

The failure of inductive reasoning

Inductive reasoning led me to believe there wouldn't be a pandemic, and even if there was, it wouldn't hit the UK. 

As philosophers, we know that inductive reasoning is weak. All swans are white until you see a black swan. But in life, our experience shapes our way of thinking, and helps us to extrapolate future events based on the past. If Paul has always lied in the past, it'd be silly for me to believe him now. If whenever I lend money to Bryan he doesn't repay me, it would be naive and gullible of me to keep lending him money. So we simply must learn from the past. I think it was George Santayana who said:

Those who cannot learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.

I had learned that when the press warn of a pandemic, it doesn't occur. Now I've learned that sometimes, it does occur.

How bad will covid-19 be?

For the world and the UK, it's going to be horrendous. It already is horrendous, and few if any countries are over the hump yet. On a personal level, I'm just going to keep myself to myself, maintain social distancing, and self-isolate if I have symptoms. I doubt that I'll be in any real danger from the virus if I do catch it. After all...

I've never died before, therefore I won't die now. 

Techy or tacky: why social media is just about bearable

I joined Twitter this week.

Now, given that Twitter has been around for over a decade, you might think I'm coming a little late to the party, and you'd be absolutely right. This is no accident. I've been purposely avoiding Twitter under the impression that it's a platform where people go to snipe about the contestants on Celebrity Love Island having cellulite, or to spread disinformation about the 'dangers' of vaccines, to showcase their hatred of Jews and Muslims, and to share the general minutiae of their everyday lives with the entire planet.

I haven't changed my opinion in this respect; I still think that Twitter is the place to go to discuss celebrity cellulite, to spread disinformation, hatred, and minutiae - but now I'm willing to admit that there is (a little) more to it than merely this.

It's not just Twitter of course: Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, Weibo (etc) are also guilty. Social media as an institution is predicated on the fact that people love to make snarky comments from behind the safety of the screen. I've written previous posts about people encouraging a girl to kill herself on social media (which sadly, she did), and people are oh-so willing to criticise politicians, celebrities, and indeed anyone via the wonderful internet.

I must admit I'm not above this sort of attitude - after all, in this blog post I have made (albeit implicit) judgements about people who watch Celebrity Love Island, oppose vaccinations, and so on. It's a human compulsion to criticise, and social media is the ideal place to do it: people can be vicious without (much) recourse, and reading the comments is a sure-fire way to waste away your life. That's why I try to avoid it.

You might be surprised that someone writing a PhD about AI and future tech shuns social media, but there is no reason to think that all tech is a force for good. We shouldn't just accept tech with open arms merely because it is new or techy. (Indeed, my thesis will serve as a warning as well as an attempt at a solution to the perils of new tech.)

I've not always shunned social media: I spent ten years of my life on Facebook, and it was not time well spent. I knew it was drivel, yet I found myself scrolling through it several times a day, often shaking my head at the banality of its content, but reading it nonetheless! 

I probably spent an hour a day looking at the chocolate-covered faces of the nephews of old school friends, or watching people I once met on holiday pour a bucket of ice over their head, or listening to the rants of people I didnt really consider friends, but felt social pressure to friend them on Facebook because they'd sent me a request and I sort of knew them. It took the Cambridge Analytica scandal in 2018 to give me the push I needed to leave Facebook. 

So, I deleted my account.* The following day, there were several times when I thought to myself "I'll just check Faceb-- oh, I deleted it. Ok I'll do something else." Within a couple of days, I stopped thinking about it altogether, and didn't miss it at all. Now, it's just not a part of my life any more. It's something I wasted a lot of time on, and ditching it gave me more time to devote to other things (such as my son -- not just eBay, Pinterest and TV!)

* Social media being what it is, I understand that my profile was not really deleted, at least, not by Facebook. It'll never be obliterated, short of a planetary meltdown on the scale of the extinction of the dinosaurs.

After that watershed moment (not just leaving Facebook, but leaving Facebook and not missing it at all), I resolved to stay away from social media for good. In my humble opinion, Facebook is possibly the least toxic of the social media outlets: at least it's people I know writing about things in their actual lives. On the other hand, Instagram is probably rife with duck-pout selfies and photos of people's dinners (this is my guess; I must admit I haven't checked). Snapchat is the place to go if you wish to receive unsolicited "dick pics" (again, this is my guess, not an empirical fact). And as I wrote earlier, Twitter is primarily celebrity-bashing, banal arguments, and disinformation. Weibo I'm less sure about, but it is probably filled with posts of people wholeheartedly endorsing the amazing Chinese government. In a nutshell, it seems to me that social media platforms are the means by which humans disseminate the drivel which we would tune out if someone were saying it IRL (in real life). Or it is the written (photographic) manifestation of smalltalk which is palatable in tiny doses, but causes severe nausea and brain damage when taken as a regular part of one's diet. 

So why the turnaround?

If the above is my genuine opinion of social media (and it is) then why on earth have I just joined Twitter?

Well, I was convinced by my friend and fellow grad student Mo (I'm not mentioning their real name; I wouldn't want to be named on someone's blog without my knowledge, unless they were citing my awesome work, of course). Mo said that Twitter is a great place to find out about new research, to make connections with people writing about similar things, and to find out about conferences. At first I was unconvinced, but Mo made a compelling argument. Mo also said Twitter is a great place to self-publicise (although Mo noted that they hate soing this, as it sounds so arrogant and conceited).

I gave it a fair bit of thought, and decided that Mo was probably quite right - Twitter could be useful.

But how could I go on Twitter whilst avoiding the chatter about celebrity cosmetic surgery and the banal minutiae of strangers' lives? Further reflection gave me my answer, and I felt more than a little sheepish. Social media is an echo chamber: if my previous experiences were characterised by pointless trivialities, then I had only myself to blame. If my online friends had interests which I was/am so disdainful of, then why did I engage with it - and with them? I must have engaged with it, because it kept coming back! 

The Plan

This time around, on Twitter, my intention is this: 

1. Follow only people or organisations whose interests truly fit with my own

2. Don't engage with banality, should I happen to see it

3. Unfollow people who routinely post banality 

Will it work out? We shall see. If I don't complete my PhD because I'm too busy commenting on botched nosejobs and why a score on Strictly should have been an 8 rather than a 7, then we'll know the experiment failed.

Wish me luck.

Should vaccinations be compulsory?

Health Secretary Rt Hon Matt Hancock MP recently articulated his support for compulsory vaccinations. He commented that there is a 'very strong argument' for making vaccinations compulsory, and I am wholly with him on this.

Anti-vaxxers

There is a small but significant group of people - anti-vaxxers - who don't believe in vaccinations. This scepticism might take a number of forms. Anti-vaxxers might believe that: 

1. vaccinations don't really work; 
2. other methods are better at protecting from illness; 
3. it's dangerous to inject diseases into people; 
4. vaccinations carry a significant risk of disease or other condition (such as autism); 
5. we shouldn't interfere with nature; 
6. vaccinating a particular child isn't necessary, because the disease in question is uncommon - perhaps because so many other people are already vaccinated.

Some of these standpoints are based in sheer ignorance, while others are based more on hope/faith. Below I examine these claims and argue that vaccination should be compulsory for all who can be vaccinated.

Vaccines don't work

There is a massive body of evidence which shows that vaccines work, and protect against illnesses far better than other methods. Nonetheless, just as abstinence will protect one against sexually transmitted infections better than a condom can, avoiding all human contact is likely to be very effective in the fight against communicable diseases. But in most cases, it's wholly unrealistic, and not a method used by anti-vaxxers anyway.

People might suggest that other methods - such as prayer, homeopathy, voodoo magic and so on - will protect against illnesses as well as or better than vaccines can. I would love to see a clinical peer-reviewed study into this. Group A is vaccinated against measles; Group B prays; Group C uses homeopathy or something similar. Then all participants in each group are exposed to measles in the same way - say, a person with measles coughs in their face. Then, we monitor the results, and see which of the people contract measles. 

Obviously, this sort of study would never pass ethical review - and why not? Because it'd be considered too dangerous for groups B and C! This is of course because we know that the non-vaccinated people would be in critical danger of developing measles, a disease which can kill.

Vaccines cause sepsis, autism etc

Although it's possible to cherry-pick anecdotal stories which show a person who was vaccinated later getting the disease, or to give credence to discredited 'scientific' studies such as the one which linked the MMR vaccine to autism, the overwhelming body of evidence shows that vaccines work, and are not dangerous.

There are some tragic cases where children die suddenly, and it is totally understandable that parents and other relatives or friends would try to find meaning in the death, and to know why it happened. Take sepsis as an example: it arrives with commonplace symptoms such as rapid shallow breathing, low temperature, and nausea, and by the time symptoms seem serious enough to seek medical help, the patient might be beyond the stage where they can be saved. It's only natural to think back to what could have caused it, and what has happened in the few days prior to the illness or death.

If a child has a vaccination, and then a few days later develops sepsis or some other horrible illness, it is understandable that a parent would make a causal link between the two, even if that link is unjustified. But any good statistician knows that correlation doesn't prove causation. Just because a child begins exhibiting symptom Y a few days after event X does not prove that X caused Y. Science doesn't work like that; superstitions do. If a child get sepsis a few days after walking under a ladder this is not compelling evidence of a link either.

So although it's understandable why people would make the link, it's unjustified.

We shouldn't interfere with nature

I have a great sympathy for this sort of attitude, and when it comes to something really invasive like a blood transfusion or an organ transplant, I am even more sympathetic to the standpoint. I can totally understand why some people might prefer to live a more simplistic and natural life, free from medical intervention and 21st century attempts to play god with medical science. It's not a belief I share, but I can understand the motivation to pursue such a life.

Often, but not always, such a standpoint might be grounded in religious beliefs such that one decides that if it is God's will that he dies from measles or heart failure, then so be it, God has decided. To try to circumvent God's plan by using medical interventions is contrary to God's plan and it therefore wrong. I respect that thinking, and when it involves things that only affect oneself, I would never argue that we should force people to have medical procedures they don't want.

HOWEVER

Whilst lifestyle and religious beliefs should be tolerated and respected, when S's religiosity starts to have a potentially fatal effect on everyone else's lives, tolerance and respect needs to come to an end.

If it were someone's religious or personal belief that one should carry razor-sharp weapons in each hand, and swing his hands vigorously as he walked, this is fine on a deserted island, but totally unacceptable in a public place - particularly around children who would be in greater danger from such activities. It would be legitimate to say he cannot enter a public place whilst swinging his knives around.

Analogously, if someone chooses to remain unvaccinated for religious or personal beliefs in the sanctity of nature, this is fine if they are alone or around others who share that belief. But when they bring their potentially disease-ridden bodies into a public place, they are playing Russian roulette with other people's lives - particularly children who are in greater danger from many communicable illnesses. It then becomes legitimate to say he cannot enter a public place whilst he is unvaccinated.

As John Stuart Mill wrote: "The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others." (On Liberty 1859/1974:68). I may have mentioned elsewhere that Mill is a legal genius, well ahead of his time, and although there are some problems with his theories which future scholars have had to iron out, the principle stands as a really useful one to live by. Do as you please, but when it starts to endanger others, your right to individuality ends. Mill would have supported compulsory vaccination.

Herd immunity

When a high enough proportion of people (typically 95-100% is quoted) are immune to an illness, the remaining 0-5% are safe too - after all, the disease is really uncommon and unlikely to be spread around. If I'm unvaccinated, but all the people I come into contact with are immune to an illness, then I'll never get the illness, because they'll never get the illness.

That's the theory, at least. For some illnesses, this is absolutely true, but I think there might be some illnesses which an immune person can still carry and pass on to others (I'm not totally sure about this though - maybe I'm just remembering that scene in 28 Days Later where the immune children passed on the zombie sickness to their mother?!)

Anyway, even if no one can carry an illness they're immune to, the herd immunity argument only works when the number of people immune to the illness is very high. If only 1% of people are susceptible to measles because everyone else is vaccinated, then there's only a very slim chance of coming into contact with another unvaccinated person - and a slimmer chance still that the unvaccinated person just so happens to be contagious at that moment.

But as the number of unvaccinated people rises, the chance of catching the illness increases. Vaccination against measles among UK children now stands at around 90% - one of the worst uptake rates of any developed country. Herd immunity to measles has been lost.

Some people can't be vaccinated, because they have an autoimmune disease or something similar. And babies aren't vaccinated against every illness the moment they leave the birth canal, but rather, they receive vaccinations in their first few months of life. This means that young babies and some older children and adults are susceptible to preventable illnesses. Why should their health be risked because S decides not to vaccinate their child and instead rely on herd immunity? The herd immunity approach should be reserved for those and only those who cannot be vaccinated for health reasons. Everyone who is able to be vaccinated should be vaccinated.

Smallpox and Measles

Child with smallpox

Does anyone remember smallpox? I don't. No one I know - indeed no one in the entire world - has had smallpox during my lifetime.

In the 20th century, smallpox was responsible for 300-500 million deaths worldwide; in 1950, there were an estimated 50 million cases of smallpox each year. I'm not a mathematician, but that seems like quite a lot. Yet in the last 40 years, there have been 0 cases of smallpox in the world, and it's all thanks to a worldwide vaccination programme. Without the vaccination programme, it would be highly likely that some members of my family and yours would have died from smallpox.

Measles hasn't been eradicated, and is still out there in the world doing its thing. It isn't just getting a bit spotty and feeling under the weather for a few days: it's horrendous, and can be fatal. In 2016, an estimated 90,000 people died of measles worldwide, and plenty of others suffered terribly with the disease, and were left deaf, blind, and with profound physical disabilities or even brain damage.

Wouldn't it be nice if measles went the way of smallpox, and we could eradicate it forever? It could be done through vaccination, if enough people were on board. It certainly seems as though a small but significant group of anti-vaxxers are trying to save measles from extinction, in much the same way that we might save whales and tigers from the brink. They are going out of their way to allow the disease to spread and remain alive, and they take to the streets to campaign, to get others to join their crew.

I would never wish illness or death on anyone, and I hope that anti-vaxxers never have to suffer the heartbreaking situation where their children die from a preventable disease simply because they refused to vaccinate them.... but some of them will die. Moreover, some newborn babies and people with autoimmune disorders who cannot be vaccinated will also die, simply because the anti-vaxxers wouldn't believe the science. It's a tragedy. A preventable tragedy.

Is it OK to ask whether a woman has kids?

People have made a claim in recent years that no one should ask a woman whether she has children, whether she's planning on having (more) children, and why (not). The claim is that having children is a personal issue which can be very upsetting for some women to talk about, whether they are being asked by strangers or close family members. Below I consider whether these claims are justified: is it really so bad to ask these questions?

Do you have kids?

For many years I couldn't imagine myself as a mother – nor indeed was I sure I wanted to become one. In my 20s, particularly after I'd been in a relationship for a few years, people would ask about whether I was planning on getting married, and whether I planned on having children. Although I found the questions a little tiresome, I gave my answer (‘no’ or ‘I don’t know’) and it was usually met with acceptance. Luckily for me I was surrounded by people who didn't pressure me or try to guilt me into following the conventional path of marriage and children. If I had been subjected to frequent questioning and pressure from my family, friends or even strangers, this could have been unbearable. So I can wholly understand why it is so annoying for people who are frequently on the receiving end of pressure to produce offspring.

During my childless years, strangers also occasionally asked me whether I had kids, and I didn't really mind this, it's a reasonable question to ask of a woman in her 20s or beyond. I wasn’t berated for being unmarried and childless, but I used to have to field the questions about why I didn’t have children, and those were more frustrating, as though I had to explain and justify why I hadn’t procreated yet. After all, parenting is (in many societies, at least) a lifestyle choice and not a moral requirement. So asking someone whether they are a mother seems permissible, but continuing to question them about why they are or aren’t a mother becomes something else. (Analogously, asking someone if they’re a vegetarian is reasonable, but asking “why are you vegetarian?” is infuriating. No one should have to justify their food intake any more than their procreation status, but that’s another post for another day). What we can avoid, and indeed should avoid, are the ‘why’ questions about someone is childless. When someone says they don't have any children, the whys and wherefores of their situation are no one’s business but their own. Asking whether they have children is engaging in small talk; asking why they don't have children is prying and pressuring.

Making connections 

People make connections with others by talking. It's how friendships build up, and conversations often make the day more pleasant and less boring. Generally, small talk focuses on elements of people's lives or the news – look at the weather, what's your job, where do you live, and suchlike. Asking someone whether they have children is in this category, it seems. As a mother, I know that talking about children to someone else who has children is a great way to find common ground and build a rapport. How else could I find out that we have this in common if I weren’t to ask them if they have kids? If someone asks another person whether they have kids and the answer is yes, this will probably be followed up with questions such as how many, boys or girls, how old are they, and so on. This is how people converse and make friends, and this should not be prevented.

There are of course some questions that are out of bounds for strangers to ask one another, for example about their sex lives, or their toileting habits. These are highly personal questions which would rightly be met with shock and condemnation if they were to be asked in most situations, but whether or not a person has children is not in this league. “Do you have any kids?” is much more similar to “What’s your job?” or “Do you have any pets?” than it is to “How often do you have sex?”

But childlessness can be a touchy subject. And there are many reasons why a woman might not have children. (The same is true of a man, but I don't think childless men are questioned and judged in quite the same way as a childless woman is: after all, a woman's sole function on earth is to raise children, right? (*sarcasm)) 

So, why doesn't S have children? Perhaps she doesn't have enough money to support a child; perhaps she is single and has no partner with whom to conceive a baby; perhaps she has chosen to focus on her career rather than motherhood; perhaps she is not attracted to men; perhaps she's planning on having children, but just not right now; or perhaps she simply does not like children and doesn't want to have any! These (and many others) are perfectly legitimate reasons for someone not to have a child. And it may well be the case that if these are the reasons someone doesn't have children they may feel comfortable saying these to family members or strangers. 

But there may also be people who would really like to have a child but for some reason they don't. For example, perhaps she or her partner may have a health condition which makes it difficult or impossible to conceive; perhaps she has been pregnant but suffered miscarriage or stillbirth; perhaps she had one or more children who have now died; perhaps she has gone through a divorce and not been given custody of her children; or perhaps her children have been taken into care because she was an inadequate parent. These are not likely to be topics of conversation which someone is happy to explain to strangers, and it is understandable why someone in one of these situations would hate being asked whether they have kids, and I have every sympathy for these people.

"I just get so upset when I think about the rain"

However, anything can be a touchy subject: any question which someone asks to another person in the process of small talk could potentially be upsetting. For example, suppose I strike up a conversation with a woman about the weather, complaining that it's raining again - this may seem to be an innocuous conversation starter, but she may find the conversation upsetting for some reason. For example, perhaps her partner is a meteorologist and she is just discovered he's been cheating; perhaps her daughter slipped when it was raining and fell under a bus and was killed; perhaps she is on the way to her sister's wedding and the rain is going to ruin the day; perhaps when it rains she is reminded of the time she was raped in the pouring rain; or perhaps she was talking about the rain when her mother had a stroke and has been institutionalised ever since. Any of these could be the case, and this could mean that my chatting about the rain upsets the person I'm talking to. However, the mere possibility that someone may be upset by talking about the rain should not preclude us from talking about the rain to anyone.

If mere chit chat about the rain could upset people, then it is easy to see how asking someone about their job, or whereabouts they live, or whether they have any pets, could be even more distressing topics of conversation, after all, they may have lost their job, or maybe they're about to have their home repossessed, or maybe their dog just mauled a child to death - who knows? The same can be said for asking them whether they have children. It might upset them, but given that most people are not upset or offended by being asked whether they have kids, it is reasonable to ask the question. I cannot allow the fact that someone might be upset by talking about children prevent me from asking them whether or not they have children. (As suggested above, interrogating them about why they don't have children is something quite different indeed. The why questions are just prying, and imply judgement too.)

The verdict

This hasn't been my most eloquent or philosophically flawless argument, but I think it is intuitively correct: we need to make a judgement about the chance that someone would be offended, versus the opportunity of building a rapport. "How often do you have anal sex?" is quite likely to offend, and minimally likely to build a rapport, whereas asking about the weather is very unlikely to offend, but doesn't build much of a rapport either. "Do you have kids?" is a reasonable way to build a rapport with someone, and although it carries the possibility of upsetting a minority of people, this should not preclude us from asking it - so long as we don't interrogate others about why they do or do not have kids.

Is it wrong to pierce a baby's ears?

In many cultures, it is common for parents to pierce the ears of newborn baby girls. This practice is very ethnocentric, meaning that it is commonplace in some cultures, and unheard of nd frowned upon in others. Some people  claim it is harmless, beautiful, and kinder than piercing the ears of an older child- and others claim it is cruel, sexist, and a violation of consent.

If you'd like to read a range of anecdotes and  viewpoints, see this Quora discussion. Below I examine a range of viewpoints and ultinately conclude that although it is a bodily violation and not medically necessary, it may be culturally necessary in some cultures to avoid bullying.

Wrongness

Many things are wrong. It's wrong to accept d a gift without saying thank you without taking a gift, and it's wrong to put millions of people to death because you don't like their skin colour. Both of these are wrong, but they are not equally wrong. Wrongness is a spectrum, and the above two acts are at opposite ends of the spectrum. If baby ear piercing turns out to be wrong, I'll need to say where on the spectrum it lies - just how wrong it is.

Wrongness comes in (at least) two forms: intrinsic wrongness and instrumental wrongness. If something is instrumentally wrong, it is wrong because of its negative consequences. If something is intrinsically wrong, it is wrong in itself, because of the type of act which it is - even if no negative consequences ensue. For example, we might think that dropping litter is instrumentally wrong because it harms the environment and disgusts people. On the other hand, we might think that lying in court is wrong in principle, regardless of the consequences. Of course, some acts may be both intrinsically and instrumentally wrong. Murder is probably wrong in both ways: it is instrumentally qrong because it upsets people, and intrinsically wrong because it's simply wrong to take a life. I'll show below that altbough baby ear piercing is intrinsically wrong (by a very small degree) it may be instrumentally right in some cultures.

Arguments in favour

First, I'll consider arguments in favour of piercing babies' ears. These are:

1. Babies feel less pain
2. Babies don't mess with their earrings
3. It looks cute
4. Most girls love their earrings
5. The holes stay open for life
6. It helps tell girls apart from boys

Babies feel less pain

The first argument in favour of piercing babies' ears is that babies feel less pain, or that they quickly forget about the pain. As for the first claim, here's a little experiment you can do: lay down a newborn baby next to a child, and an adult. Now, get an object such as a pencil case or water bottle, drop it onto each of them, and see who cries. My guess is that the baby would cry, while the others would not. Indeed, if one were to try a more unpleasant (and possibly illegal) experiment of hitting the people, I think the baby would certainly cry, the child may cry, and the adult would not. So the claim that babies don't feel the pain is totally unfounded.

As for the claim that babies don't remember the pain, this is more plausible. If we had hit the newborn, the child, and the adult, it is likely that 5 minutes after the hitting, the child and the adult would both remember that they'd been hit. Would a newborn baby remember it? There's no way to know. She might not behave like she recalls the pain, but that doesn't mean that the pain has indeed been forgotten. 

If it is true that babies forget the pain whereas children and adults do not, then it would seem to be more permissible to hit a baby for fun, than to hit a child or adult for fun. This seems intuitively distasteful. But this doesn't mean it is wrong, of course. There is not a clear way to ascertain whether babies remember the pain.

Babies don't mess with their earrings

It is important to keep newly-pierced ears clean; that much is certain. Adults with newly-pierced ears are good at keeping them clean, but children (aged 2-10) are likely to mess with their earrings with germy hands, possibly causing infections. Very young babies are not able to control their limbs properly, and couldn't fiddle with their earrings even if they wanted to, so their new piercings are likely to stay cleaner than those done on an older child.

But that alone isn't reason enough to pierce their ears. Amputation of the legs is likely to heal better (and be coped with more easily) when performed on a newborn rather than an older child or adult -- but that alone is not reason enough to amputate a baby's legs! We'd need to have some other (positive) reason to pierce a baby's ears or amputate their legs in addition to babies' advanced healing abilities.

It looks cute

I can understand why people think it looks cute, but I myself do not find it cute. It's not commonplace in the UK to pierce babies' ears, and yet we still have babies and children which are very cute. 

Besides, many things might be cute - surgically grafting cat ears onto a baby's head, or tattooing little hearts onto their bodies, but this does not give us adequate reason to do it. Later on, when I discuss consent, we will see that cuteness is insignificant when weighed against body modification.

Most girls love their earrings

This is probably true. Most girls like to look girly, and the chance to wear sparkly earrings like a princess is undoubtedly attractive to many girls.

But not all girls. Some girls don't want to wear earrings, but by the time they are old enough to object to their earrings, they have already had their ears pierced.

But for girls who don't want to wear earrings, they can just take them out, and the scarring is minimal. So ear piercing on a baby isn't like tattooing a baby, where it is significantly more difficult to reverse the procedure if they don't like it.

The holes stay open for life

Oddly, this is often given as a reason in favour of baby ear piercing. People say things such as "I haven't worn earrings in 10 years, but the holes are still there so I can put earrings in if I want to". This contradicts the above argument - that one can just take out the earrings if one doesn't want them. But the fact that the holes stay there for life is surely a reason to say that baby ear piercing is a lifelong infliction - a reason against it. And yet, proponents of babies with earrings use "the holes never heal up" as an argument in favour of ear piercing in newborns. Counterintuitive, huh?

It helps tell girls apart from boys

Among cultures where baby ear piercing is commonplace (such as Spain and other Latino cultures), this argument is frequently put forward, but it is utterly flawed.

First of all, why is it essential for people to know the sex of a baby? They should act the same way towards the baby regardless of its genital configuration or whether it has small pieces of metal in its ears. Perhaps they just want to know which pronouns to use, so they can say "She's gorgeous" or "He's gorgeous" rather than "It's gorgeous". Fair enough, but there are many cultures where baby girls' ears are not routinely pierced - how do they cope with telling baby boys apart from baby girls?

The answer is this: they dress their babies in gendered clothes such as pink flowery dresses or blue dungarees. Or, if one encounters a baby dressed in unisex clothing, one asks "is it a boy or a girl?", and no one takes offence. 

So this argument - the aid to telling boys from girls - is absurd. One doesn't need to tell a baby boy from a baby girl, but even if they do, they can look at the clothes or just ask - piercings are unnecessary for this purpose.

It's tradition 

This is probably one of the weakest arguments in favour of baby ear piercing. There are many abhorrent traditions involving the ritual alteration or mutilation of people's bodies. Some examples include Chinese foot binding, head binding, female genital mutilation, circumcision, tribal tattoos, and the stretching of the neck.

A tradition is only a tradition as long as people keep practicing it. If a tradition is cruel, outdated, unwarranted, or just plain stupid, then there is no need to keep following it. There is a saying: Who is the greater fool: the fool, or the fool who follows him? It suggests that copying stupid actions is even more stupid than the person who did it in the first place. The practice of foot binding (for girls) in China had been a tradition for a long time, but thankfully, people stopped practicing it, and it is now seen as the vile and unnecessary practice it truly is.

So piercing babies' ears solely because it is a tradition is absurd. We would need a better reason than mere tradition for piercing babies' ears.

Arguments against 

Now let's consider some of the arguments against baby ear piercing. These are:

1. It's dangerous
2. It's sexist
3. It's body mutilation
4. It requires consent

It's dangerous

Earrings can be grabbed and yanked out by the baby themselves, or by other children. They can get caught when removing clothing, or when playing, hugging etc. and when this happens, it hurts. But in the UK, quite a few kids (again, mainly girls) have their ears pierced, and almost all women do. How many people have had an earring ripped out such that their earlobe was actually torn? I would say the number is minuscule. Ear piercing is not dangerous.

It's sexist

Recall the argument above in favour of piercing girls' ears because "it's cute". Why is it only cute for girls and not for boys? The answer, of course, is because we have gendered ideas about what is attractive for boys and girls.

When people pierce a baby's ears, it is always baby girls whose ears are pierced. Very occasionally, one might pierce a single ear of a baby boy, but this is much less common than piercing both ears of a baby girl.

And the reason why it's girls rather than boys who have their ears pierced is undoubtedly because women wear earrings to look beautiful, like princesses and so on. So piercing the ears of a baby girl is a symbolic act which says "I want my daughter to look beautiful". This is highly distasteful, the reinforcement of the idea that girls should look beautiful, with sparkly jewellery, whereas boys should not.

This ethos is unpleasant enough when it circulates among adults, but it becomes more and more grotesque when inflicted on young children and babies. Does a 5 year old need to look beautiful? Of course not, so a new born baby girl certainly does not.

On the other hand, gendered clothes exist for children of all ages, including newborns. If we object to ear piercing among baby girls solely on sexist grounds, we should also object to gendered clothing. It should either be abolished, or it should be acceptable to dress a baby boy in a flowery dress. But many people against ear piercing still think that gendered clothing is acceptable, so sexism alone can't explain the wrongness of ear piercing.

It's body mutilation

Forcing pieces of metal through a child's skin is a form of body mutilation, as is tattooing, circumcision, female genital mutilation, foot binding, and several other (once) common practices. If we object to ear piercing, but not another form of body mutilation, we would have to show that ear piercing is more harmful or less necessary than the one which we accept.

Let's take circumcision, since it is shockingly common. Figures show that over 80% of US males are circumcised, and over 90% of males in Muslim-majority countries. I find this abhorrent and shocking; in the UK, only 4% of males are circumcised, and I can't fathom why anyone would do it to a baby. Given that there is no good medical reason for routine circumcision on babies, I find it sickening and intrinsically wrong that someone would remove part of the genitals of a newborn baby. Of course, people often claim that it's more hygienic (which it isn't), but mostly that it's a tradition - often underpinned by religion. As shown above, tradition alone is no good reason to alter the bodies of babies.

Anyway, since the removal of part of the genitals is far more intimate, invasive, and irreversible than the piercing of the earlobes, it is impossible for anyone to seriously claim that routine circumcision is acceptable but ear piercing is wrong.

Of course, someone might claim that both are wrong, because both are mutilation. This seems true, as they both irreversibly alter the baby's body. However, it is possible to remove earrings, and the remaining ear is very similar to an unpierced ear (there may be a small pinprick still visible). Compare this to circumcision, which irreversibly alters a boy's penis - if a circumcised boy decides he doesn't want to be circumcised, tough, he cannot reverse it, whereas removing earrings will give the person an almost identical ear to an unpierced one. Moreover, when one considers that a man will use his penis for urinating, making love, and masturbating, but a girl will use her earlobes for absolutely nothing, this further shows why ear piercing is far, far less harmful and less invasive than circumcision is.

It requires consent

This is related to the above argument. The suggestion is that body modification is something which morally requires consent, and a child - much less a newborn baby - is unable to consent. Some people even suggest that any touching of the body requires consent. 

This latter claim is reasonable for adults and older children, but is absurd with regards to nonverbal babies and perhaps even all children under 10. Babies and young children need to bathed, dressed, and to have their toileting needs met, but I cannot obtain consent to change my new born baby's nappy - I just change it. The fact that she cannot talk does not seem to be an issue - few if any people claim that I am violating the bodily integrity of my new born by changing her nappy without first obtaining her consent.

Sometimes young children who can speak say they don't want to have a bath or to have their nappy changed, but their wishes should not universally be respected, or they'd be living in filth, which is not in their best interests. Sometimes children's lack of consent should be ignored for their greater good.

This argument works for nappy-changing, but not quite so much for ear piercing, unless we could show that a child's wellbeing would be severely limited as a result of failing to pierce her ears. In somewhere such as the UK, it seems evident that young girls with pierced ears have a childhood indistinct from young girls with unpierced ears. But elsewhere, things may be different.

Recall above that ear piercing is, in Spanish and Latino cultures, used as a shorthand for telling the sexes apart: girls have pierced ears, boys do not. This means that a girl with unpierced ears may be met with confusion or unkind comments, in the same way that a boy who wears dresses may be treated in the UK. This could mean that a girl with unpierced ears could be an easy target for bullies, and this would limit her wellbeing. This alone might be incentive enough to pierce a baby girl's ears.

I said above that traditions are only traditions as long as they keep being practiced, and that is true, but the first few people who break with a tradition may have to be remarkably thick-skinned. Children can be remarkably cruel, and the sphere of gender roles is somewhere that children can bully one another mercilessly. A child who doesn't conform to gender expectations can be an easy target.

A parent might think that baby ear piercing is a silly tradition and that it's unnecessary, but go through with it nonetheless to spare their daughter the burden of being different. If one lives in a Spanish or Latino culture, then failing to pierce a baby girl's ears may be setting her up for a difficult childhood.

Conclusion 

Piercing the ears of a baby girl is invasive and unnecessary. It will be painful to the baby, but she will probably forget about the pain soon after, and the piercings will heal cleanly if the ears are pierced when she is young. It is reasonably non-permanent, and girls who later decide not to wear earrings can remove them and almost no scar is left.

Generally, people should have autonomy over their own bodies, and consent should be obtained prior to invasive procedures or body modification. Ear piercing is a slightly intrusive and momentarily painful procedure, so requires consent (circumcision definitely requires consent). However, we often think it acceptable to give a baby a painful inoculation in spite of the pain or her lack of consent, because we believe it is medically necessary. 

Pierced ears are obviously not medically necessary, and since it is painful and a form of body modification, we can say that it is wrong. It is intrinsically wrong to unnecessarily modify someone's body without their consent, even if no harm ensues. But how wrong is it on the spectrum if wrongness? I believe it is at the end of the spectrum, right next to going to a birthday party without a present. Although I maintain that it is intrinsically wrong to pierce a baby girl's ears, it is only a tiny crumb of wrongness.

It is intrinsically wrong, but, I maintain, it may be instrumentally right, because although it isn't medically necessary, it may be culturally necessary. In the UK it is seen as trashy and oversexualised for a little girl to have pierced ears, so it is certainly not a cultural requirement here. But some places have girls' earrings so ingrained in their culture that having a little girl with unpierced ears is like putting a boy in a pink dress with a bow in his hair. It could be seen as cruel to treat a child in such a way, because it invites confusion and unkind comments from others. So in cultures where it is commonplace for all young girls have pierced ears, it might be best to safeguard girls from bullies by piercing their ears - and probably the best time to pierce them is in the first few months of life, when they heal cleanly.

Golf balls, one-word exam responses, and the myths of Philosophy

Philosophy is my life, and I love it. But not everyone really knows what it is (this includes my immediate family, best friends, and seemingly everyone who isn't studying philosophy). I just hope they haven't gone online to try to find out what it is, and found these absurd myths.

Philosophy professor with life lessons 

A philosophy professor stood in front of the lecture theatre and picked up a large glass jar. Wordlessly, he proceeded to put golf balls into it, until the class agreed it was full. Then he poured in gravel; the gravel filled the spaces around the golf balls. Again, the class agreed the jar was full. Then he poured in sand, which filled the gaps around the gravel, and again the class agreed that the jar was now full. Finally, he picked up a glass of beer and poured it into the glass jar. The beer filled the remaining gaps and the class agreed that the jar was finally full. Then the professor said "The golf balls are the most important things in your life, like family. The gravel represents other things that are important to you, like your house, job, and car. The sand is all the other things in your life, like fixing the dripping tap or doing the laundry." "What about the beer?" asked a student. "Ah, the beer just goes to show that no matter how full you think your life is, there's always time for beer!"

If you have never heard this story before, I'm sorry to have put you through it. Because this is not a post about how we ought to prioritise our family (although we should), and nor is it a post about how there's always time for beer (there isn't). It's a post rant about how these ridiculous urban myths which circulate the internet and the real world are not just irritating, but offensive to philosophy as a discipline.

There is already confusion about what philosophy really is. I am recalling open days I've attended (both as a student ambassador, and as a teacher) where people have said things to me like "I'm not sure what philosophy is, but I think it sounds interesting" (I have never really figured out how something can be interesting when you don't know what it is!) or "Is philosophy like psychology, because the words sound a bit the same". I've also been asked (usually by parents rather than students) "What's your philosophy?" as though 'my philosophy' is some sort of belief I hold about life. Now it's OK that people don't know what philosophy is - the fact that metaphilosophy is a thing demonstrates that maybe even philosophers aren't really sure what it is either!

But whoever circulates these banal tales is exacerbating the confusion. I've been in the world of philosophy for 23 years, and never have I ever come across demonstrations with golf balls about the importance of beer. Nor even have I ever come across uplifting life advice about the importance of family and why we shouldn't sweat the small stuff. This is an important message, to be sure, but not really within the realms of philosophy. The latest crazes for mindfulness and meditation have further blurred the lines for the public about what philosophy is. And input 'philosophy' into any university search box and you will get dozens of results stating that the university wants the best for their students, and how students should balance work and play, - you'll have to really dig araound to find anything about the subject discipline of Philosophy.

One word exam answer gets top grade

A final philosophy exam paper asks students to define what courage is. A student responds with the single word "This." and receives the top grade.
A philosophy exam paper consists of a single one-word question: "Why?" A student responds by simply writing "Why not?" and receives the top grade.

These urban myths are simply absurd, and really make a mockery of the gruelling nature of philosophical study - and what's worse is that many people seem to believe them! I have had students who have asked whether they are true, even after a year of writing philosophy essays. One or two students have, over the years, told me that they had constructed some clever one-sentence answer for a question on solipsism, the external world, or determinism which they were sure would get them a grade A*. I of course told them that their idea was a recipe for disaster, and thankfully, to the best of my knowledge, no one ever attempted such a smart-Alec exam response. But still the myth persists (among non-philosophy students, at least) that philosophy is a subject where one can achieve a top grade with a clever one-word or one-sentence response.

There's no right or wrong answer

Philosophy has got a name for itself as a subject where there aren't any right or wrong answers, everything is just an opinion. Ethics is probably to blame for much of this problem - many children's first (and sometimes only) taste of philosophy is a discussion in English, RE or PSHE about whether abortion/euthanasia is right or wrong. People say their opinions, argue about it a bit, then the lesson ends. As an introduction to philosophy, this sort of lesson with youngsters is not too problematic, but when it still exists among second year BA students, it is more problematic.

I'm quite the antirealist when it comes to moral facts, aesthetics, and several other fields, but the notion that in philosophy "you can just argue anything - it doesn't matter what" is a tragic misconception, and far removed from antirealism. And this confusion is echoed by resrachers in other fields, who are aghast that we philosophers don't gather data.

Don't you gather data?

People in the sciences gather data, analyse their data, and draw a conclusion; the same is true of many people in the arts, humanities and social sciences. So many of them simply cannot fathom how one can conduct research without gathering data; they just can't seem to get their heads around it. I have been to numerous interdisciplinary conferences (for example, those organised by my funding body M4C, and those organised by the University of Nottingham, and the incredulity is rife.

When I have told interested people that I am studying how care robots should conceive of harm and consent, they ask me questions like "So what data are you gathering?" "Are you going to survey people to see how they think the robots should act?" or simply "What's your methodology?" Some people have been confused, and others incredulous, bemused or even horrified about the fact that philosophers don't generally gather data (xphi notwithstanding). "What, so you're just going to write about your opinions of how robots should act? Without even finding out what anyone else thinks?" they ask.

All disciplines suffer caricaturing

I suppose it's too much to ask that the general public - and perhaps even students in other disciplines - really understand how philosophy is conducted. After all, I'm perhaps woefully misguided about other disciplines. I guess any subject can be distilled into an excruciatingly dismissive soundbyte:

• Literature: you just read stories and say what you think about them
• Biology: you just look at animals and plants
• Maths: you just add up and take away
• Art: you just paint stuff
• History: you just read about the past
• Philosophy: you just say your opinion about stuff
• Sport science: you just run about and throw balls
• Business studies: you just look at how to make money
• Media studies: you just watch TV

I suppose when placed among these sorts of oversimplified and misguided bullet points, philosophy probably doesn't fare much worse than the other subjects do. I see philosophy as the essential foundation onto which all other knowledge is built (How can you study history without  understanding whether the past really exists? How can you study literature without knowing what language is?) But I suppose that many people see their discipline as the foundation of all others - psychology, language, history, sociology, physics, chemistry and biology can all make similar such claims (and probably lots of other subjects can too!) Nonetheless, it would be nice if people didn't belittle or caricature philosophy, my one true love.

PS - Stupid urban myths which belittle philosophy are infuriating, but if you'd like to see a collection of genuinely funny jokes about philosophy, check out see David Chalmers' website. But note that most of these will only be funny for someone well-versed in philosophy.

"They mustn't have had many good submissions" - impostor syndrome and negative assumptions

A couple of months go, I sent off an abstract to a CFP for a conference and this week I got an email saying I'd been accepted/invited to present my work there. "Hooray!" I thought - which was almost immediately followed by the thought "Maybe they didn't have many good submissions." I astonished even myself with my instantaneous self-doubt! "Maybe they're desperate for speakers?" I wondered, and "Maybe their reviewing procedures are biased?" I asked myself as I recalled the double-blind review procedure.

I can, through an act of will - and in defiance of my inner critic - insist to myself "No, my work was selected because it was good, not because they are desperate or careless with their selections", but it does sometimes feel forced and disingenuous to say that to myself. 

Of course, I recognise that my self-doubts are impostor syndrome, plain and simple (but if I recognise I have it, then I realise I'm good, and if I know I'm good then I don't have impostor syndrome!) 

Anecdotally, impostor syndrome seems commonplace among high achieving people. As kids, they see coming second as failure; getting 98% in a test just shows you weren't perfect; and no matter how well they do, still the feeling remains inside them that it's simply not good enough. Does this come from the school system? (I've seen the 'Two stars and a wish' strategy all over the place - ie each piece of work receives two positive comments and one suggestion for how it could be improved further.) I think self-doubt is perhaps reinforced by a school system which of course wants to push children to make progress. If my teachers hadn't reminded me that I needed to put capital letters after a full stop, I probably wouldn't do it now. But it can't be just the school who are to blame, as there are many kids who (outwardly, at least) aren't self-critical. But so often these aren't the kids who are getting 95% and just have a positive self-image; they are the kids who are getting 45% but just don't care that they're doing badly. There really does seem to be a correlation between high achievers and the feeling that one isn't (yet) good enough. 

Some self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy is probably what causes the high achieving - or at least helps it along. I work hard, achieve well, feel like it's still not good enough, and so work harder and achieve more. It's a good recipe for high achievement!

John Stuart Mill (I ❤️ Mill!) wrote that it's better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. In many ways, it seems to be true - the esteemed but sometimes dissatisfying life of high achievers does seem to be of a higher quality than the satisfaction a 'fool' gets from, say, reality TV and beer. I'd hope that achievement and happiness are not mutually exclusive, but if they are, then for my son I'd choose happiness over achievement every time. 

But what of my own impostor syndrome? Well, I suppose I really ought to heed the advice I've given to various kids about taking pride in your achievements and accepting praise and compliments with good grace. So I'll say this (even though it feels boastful and forced): if I've been chosen to speak at a conference, it's because I'm good enough to do so. I'm awesome!!

"You're so lucky!"

I have a few posts which I've labelled with the tag 'stupid things people say'. "You're so lucky" should be placed front and centre. Of course, there is such a thing as luck, and so there are times when "You're so lucky" is an entirely appropriate thing to say.

My lucky dip numbers came up on Lotto.
     "You're so lucky!"

I happen to have been born in a country where medical treatment is free at the point of delivery.
     "You're so lucky!"

I won a game of Snakes and ladders.
     "You're so lucky!"

All of the above are indeed examples of (good) luck, and "you're so lucky" is an appropriate and true thing to say; I have no complaints about events such as these being attributed to luck, as these are genuine examples of luck.

My gripe is when things happen in my (or someone else's) life which are not due to luck, but people say "you're so lucky" nonetheless.

For example, after I finished my undergrad degree, my then boyfriend and I decided we wanted to go travelling. I worked a rubbish job earning £5 an hour, and I took overtime whenever I could. We didn't go out at all for over a year, except for a curry once a fortnight costing £5 each. We seldom drank alcohol, we spent less than £20 on clothes during that year, we had one vehicle between the two of us, and we lived in a shared house which was cheap because it was skanky and in a rough area. I managed to save up £2500 in a year, and we went off to Australia, New Zealand and Thailand. And it's funny, the people who'd called us 'boring' and even 'weird' for really tightening our belts that year were the very same ones who said we were 'lucky' to be able to go travelling abroad. It made my blood boil. No one called us lucky when we were scrimping and saving.

And I get the very same things said to me now. (And I'm sure other hardworking people also get this said to them, and it's so offensive.) I don't have a job at the moment because I'm doing a PhD. So I stay home reading articles and writing stuff on the computer.

"You're so lucky!"

Well no, I'm not lucky. I've always worked hard at my studies and that's why I'm now able to do the PhD.
"Yes but you're lucky that you don't have to worry about money."

No it's not luck. All funded placements are funded on merit; they don't just roll the dice and fund people randomly.
"Yes but it's lucky that your mortgage and bills are low enough to allow you to survive on a £15k stipend."

No, I have a small mortgage because I bought this house with a big deposit of my own money which I'd saved up by working hard and spending little. I could have chosen a more expensive (and bigger) house with larger mortgage payments, but I chose not to. So it's not luck that I have low mortgage payments. And I still choose not to spend frivolously; I buy budget brands and I don't go out for expensive meals and nights/days out. That's not luck.

it's so offensive when people say that career success and academic success are down to luck; it's a way of saying "you don't really deserve your success - it's just luck that you're successful". If someone has got rich by winning the lottery or inheritance, then yes that is lucky, but most people are where they are in life because of what they've done with their lives. That goes for people at both ends of the spectrum. it is lucky that David Beckham had a successful football career or that Ed Sheeran is having a successful music career? Someone doesn't become an amazing footballer or a have albums selling tens of millions of copies because they're lucky. Equally, someone doesn't become a heroin addict or a murderer by chance/luck alone. People might genetically inherit a small amount of 'natural talent' or an 'addictive personality', but they make the choice to practice football, promote their singing, or to take heroin. There are a few exceptions to the rule: people who were injected with heroin against their wishes, or people whose family have had enough money to help them on their way to success, but these people are the exceptions rather than the rule.

In fact there are few things in life which are genuinely and completely down to luck. I concede that it was lucky for me to have been born in England in the late 20th century to hardworking parents who loved me and looked after me. I've also had the lucky privileges of being white-skinned, average-looking, and heterosexual. Whether these lucky privileges are cancelled put by the 'unlucky' facts that I'm female, working class and I've been disabled/in poor health for half of my life, I don't really know. But it seems to me that by and large, our lives are what we make them, and not a lot of luck is involved in repeated success or failure.

People should think twice before saying "you're so lucky" because much of what happens to us in life is not due to luck: attributing someone's success to mere luck is just another way of telling them they don't deserve to be where they are. It that's what you want to tell someone, then fine, go for it, as there are definitely cases of people who haven't worked for their success (or haven't worked to avoid their failure) but the lives of most of us regular people are affected far more by effort than luck.

Should we ban some Christmas songs?

Baby it's cold outside has met with some controversy recently, with some radio stations refusing to play it because it endorses pressuring women into sex, or even date rape. A couple of weeks ago, before I'd heard this news, I was musing to myself that perhaps the lyrics should be: "I really can't stay / OK fair enough, take care." And then the rest of the song could be an instrumental! I find Tom Jones a bit creepy, and the thought of him trying to convince a less than willing young lady to spend the night turns my stomach.

A man who just won't take no for an answer in real life might be a problem... But this is a song, not real life. Tom Jones' creepiness notwithstanding, it seems to me that really, the song needn't be interpreted as date rape, as some people have suggested. I would think that many of us in relationships have had conversations where one partner says they need to go somewhere, and the other tries to convince them to stay. So I'm not convinced that the song is endorsing anything untoward, and I don't think it needs to be banned.

But what of the other contenders for most offensive Christmas song? People have objected to Do they know it's Christmas and Fairytale of New York too.

Do they know its Christmas has been torn to shreds. It's been accused of treating Africa as one homogenous culture, and making factually inaccurate claims (no rivers flow - what about the Nile? There won't be snow in Africa - what about atop Kilimanjaro?) And it's been charged with being patronising (do they know its Christmas? Well yes they probably do, given how many Africans are Christians) and it is said to propagate the "white saviour" mentality. I discussed this issue in another post, in relation to the issue that misinformation and white saviour mentalities help to secure more donations for Comic Relief, and I argued that documentary footage for the programme ought to be honest even if fewer donations are received as a result. But a charity song seems a different kettle of fish, where factual accuracy seems less important. Or as Geldof so eloquently put it "It's a pop song, not a doctoral thesis. They [critics] can fuck off." So Do they know it's Christmas can stay off the naughty list, methinks.

Fairytale of New York is about two people who fall in love, then it all turns sour. With gambling, alcoholism, and epithets such as 'slut' and 'faggot', it doesn't seem the most likely contender for a favourite Christmas song - yet it is. Those words are offensive, but why should that make us ban a song? Bleep it if necessary. I must admit that when I heard my little boy singing "you scumbag, you maggot..." I did think oh no please don't say it. But he followed it up with "you piece of old junk" (which he obviously borrowed from the previous verse - and cleaned up the language too!)

But songs with dodgy lyrics aren't a specifically Christmassy problem. I had the same feeling when I heard him singing "for 24 years I've been living next door to Alice. Alice? Who..." But again, mercifully, his innocent little ears told him the lyrics which followed were "Alice? Who's the talking Alice?" So yes, Fairytale of New York does have some words in it we don't want our kids to learn, but it's still a great Christmas song (and one of my son's favourites), and deserves to be played. I heard a version by Ronan Keating which used the lyrics "you're cheap and you're haggard" instead of "you cheap lousy faggot", so that should hopefully satisfy critics.

"But Christmas is wholesome"

There are thousands of songs out there with offensive themes and explicit lyrics. It seems to me that rap songs are frequently about knife crime, drive-by shootings, nonconsensual sex, and that the "songs" are littered with words like bitch, ho, ni**er and of course the F word. But these songs are widely available and widely enjoyed. Compared to rap music, Fairytale of New York is like a nursery rhyme (not Baa baa black sheep though, that song is as offensive as black coffee and a blackboard.)

But maybe the objection to Fairytale but not to rap songs is grounded in the idea that Christmas songs ought to be more wholesome than non-Christmas songs?

Well...

I was born and raised in Macclesfield; a nondescript northern town whose only real claim to fame is the Macc Lads - a rock band whose songs have some... um... controversial lyrics. Most of their songs are about getting drunk, sex, chips and gravy, fighting, and bodily functions. To give you a flavour, here's an excerpt from the Macc Lads' song Fluffy Pup "I spent last night tryna chuck me bird / But she were clinging to me leg like a lovesick turd / I said "Your tits are too small and your legs are too short / I want a fit bird from Sunday Sport / I can't hear me records when you sit on me face" […] "You can cook / you can fuck / you can do the washing up / but I've had enough / go on, fuck off..."

You probably wouldn't expect a band like the Macc Lads to produce a Christmas song, but they did. When Feed the World was in the charts back in 1985, lead singer and lyricist Muttley Macc Lad didn't pass up the opportunity to offend, and wrote a little Christmas ditty called Feed your face. Here's an excerpt: "Watching Live Aid 'Sit up straight you scruffy ni**er' [...] Feeling peckish so I went down the chippy, bought some pies and pasties / didn't give any to the starving ni**ers so I'm a fucking Nazi / Feed your face, don't give them a second thought". Now that is an example of an offensive Christmas song which doesn't get much air time. Geldof quite rightly slammed it. But should the Macc Lads' song be banned? No, I think not. (If you find the N word as objectionable as I do, then it's worth reminding ourselves that rap uses this word with far greater frequency than the Macc Lads do - in fact, I think this may be their only use of the term.) It's just music, and - like rap - people should, generally speaking, be allowed to listen to what they please.

John Stuart Mill (I love Mill!) in On Liberty wrote that offence is not harm. There should be freedom of speech, and that involves the freedom to offend. As ever, Mill hits the nail on the head. You might be offended by Feed your face, Feed the world, or indeed Baa baa black sheep, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be allowed to exist.

Am I a hypocrite?

My last blog post was calling for books about child abuse to be banned, and now here I am supporting artistic freedom - am I being hypocritical? Well, I think not, and actually, last week's argument and this week's argument are very similar.

Last week:
X is similar to Y
X is banned (illegal)
Therefore Y should be banned (illegal)
(Where X was child porn, and Y was child abuse books)

This week:
X is similar to Y
X is not banned
Therefore Y should not be banned
(Where X is rap music, the Macc Lads etc, and Y is the Fairytale of New York etc)

All I'm calling for is consistency in what we ban or don't ban. If music is an area where we support artistic freedom to the extent that we allow music about drive-by shootings and fights, then a song about a man trying to get a woman to spend the night, or a song which uses the word "faggot" is small fry.

If someone were to turn my argument against me and call for consistency in my beliefs, they'd need to show that a book about child abuse has enough in common with a Christmas pop song that they ought to be treated the same. I think Socrates himself would struggle to show that.

Conclusion

Some well-loved Christmas songs have the odd word or sentiment which some might find at odds with 2018 political correctness, but if people enjoy listening to such songs, let them. It's Christmas after all, live and let live.

If you aren't in the PC brigade, then you might like this tongue in cheek list of offensive Christmas songs. Some amusing examples are "folks dressed up like Eskimos" = cultural appropriation;  "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake" = Santa is a peeping Tom. And how about "Children gays open-mouthed, taken by surprise" = supporting homosexual abuse of children.

Happy Christmas.

Stop the books about child abuse

Wander around a bookshop and it won't be difficult to find masses and masses of books about child abuse. Amazon even has a specific section dedicated to books about child abuse! I think "A child called it" was an early pioneer of this genre, with its black and white photo of a sad-looking child and its provocative title, it became a bestseller. Since then, hundreds of child abuse books have followed. Many follow the example of pale backgrounds, washed-out photos of sad-looking children, and provocative or disturbing titles like "A special place" "Stop, Daddy, stop" and "Our little secret". These books are obviously flying off the shelves, because each year, yet more books about child abuse pop up, ready to be consumed by people who enjoy reading about child abuse.

Am I the only one who finds this disturbing?

Child pornography is illegal. You wouldn't find it on the shelves at eye level in Asda, nor would there be a whole section dedicated to it in Waterstones - and rightly so. People who abuse children are the scum of the earth, and people who want to look at images or videos of child abuse are a pretty close second. So why is it seemingly perfectly acceptable to read about child abuse in graphic detail? People wouldn't buy their grandad a subscription to a child porn website for Christmas, so why do they buy their granny yet another book which describes child sex abuse?

Below I consider and reject several possible reasons for thinking that looking at child pornography and reading about child abuse are morally distinct. Perhaps we should stop short of making these books illegal, but I do think we should stop these books from adorning the shelves in bookshops, and carefully monitor people who buy or read such books.

It's not all sexual

OK so not all books about child abuse are about sexual abuse; most are "merely" about emotional and physical abuse, and neglect. But some books are about sexual abuse, and those are my main targets in this post.

And as an aside, although there might not be a specific law against watching people beat, torture, kill, emotionally abuse or neglect their children, we might (rightly) think that people who enjoy watching these things are doing something morally troubling, if not wholly wrong. Yet we seem to think it's fine for people to read about all these types of abuse: Why? Some possible reasons are discussed below.

Visual / literary medium

Firstly, child porn is visual, whereas child abuse books are literary. Perhaps we differentiate between them because we think it's wrong to look at abuse, but OK to read about abuse? This is probably a distinction that most people do make, but without good reason.

Suppose there was a website where paedophiles share stories about the sexual things they've done to children (sadly, such websites probably do exist). If a person were to spend an evening reading the stories on such a website - but without looking at any pictures - I think we would view this person as morally bereft, and almost as bad (if not just as bad) as someone who looks at child porn. So this makes me think that it's not just about the distinction between the visual / literary medium.

The author

So if it's not the visual/literary distinction, then maybe it's because most child porn is created by the perpetrator, and shown from the position of the perpetrator, whereas child abuse books are told from the point of view of the victim.

Or at least, that's what we're supposed to think. How many readers really check whether the author of a book is the victim? Perhaps some authors of child abuse books are actually perpetrators, retelling the abuse they've committed from the point of view of their victim. Or perhaps the stories are fictional, the author detailing their appalling sexual fantasies in literary form. I imagine that at least some of the child abuse books on sale are as a matter of fact written by paedophiles. Still think it's OK to read these books?

What if it turns out that some child porn photos / videos are shared online by the child themselves? This wouldn't be enormously surprising, given that 'sexting' is a thing among tweens and teens: they share pictures of themselves naked or performing sex acts on snapchat, whatsapp, and other platforms. But surely we wouldn't think that it's OK for someone to view these images of child porn simply because the child (even if they've now grown up) was complicit in the sharing of the images? Someone who shares images of themselves being on the receiving end of child sexual abuse is (as far as the law is concerned) just as guilty as anyone else who shares images of abuse.

So if some books are written by paedophiles, and some child porn is shared by the victims, then the "who is the author" argument doesn't help us to distinguish between the morally acceptable and the morally unacceptable, if we're wanting to show that books are permissible but images are not.

Why people read / watch

So maybe the reason we distinguish between child porn and child abuse books is because of the reasons why people read or look at them. I think the assumption is that people (usually men) who look at child porn photos and videos are doing it for sexual excitement and gratification: they find the images arousing. Whereas the assumption with child abuse books is that the people (usually women) who read them are reading it with sympathy and horror; they come away from the book thinking how terrible the abuse was.

But suppose that someone who reads a lot of child abuse books with sadness and horror decides to start looking at child porn with sadness and horror too. Suppose they go online and seek out horrible videos of child abuse and rape, and they sit there watching them feeling sad and disgusted with what they're seeing. I think we'd see such behaviour as decidedly odd, if not wrong and  criminal. We'd say "you shouldn't look at child porn, even if you're looking at it in sympathy".

And suppose a paedophile enjoys reading the child abuse books for sexual gratification. Suppose he sees the books as a way of indulging his sexual fantasies in a legal way. Suppose the rape and abuse scenes in the child abuse books are so arousing for him that he masturbates while reading them. I bet some people do do this. I think we would see this as morally troubling that someone would find these books arousing. I don't think we'd just shrug and say well it's fine because it's only a piece of literature, and buy him another child abuse book for Christmas.

This is probably the most convincing of the arguments, but given that we don't know the real reasons why someone looks at or reads about child abuse, it will be tricky for us to distinguish between those who are looking at or reading about child abuse with sympathy, and those who find it exciting. So we revert back to saying pictures-and-videos - bad, books - good.

No legal restriction on books

Perhaps the only reason why we feel that looking at photos of child abuse is wrong (but books about child abuse are fine) is simply because the former is illegal and the latter is not.  Those who look at child abuse pictures do so in secret, in their own homes, through untraceable proxies. They keep it secret from family and friends, and if they are caught with all that child porn, they'll be prosecuted. It's not socially acceptable to sit on a train watching videos of child porn. Whereas reading child abuse books is legal; people who read them don't need to do so in secret, and if the police discover that someone owns a lot of child abuse books, nothing happens. It's (seemingly) socially acceptable to sit on a train reading a book about child abuse.

But laws are fairly arbitrary, and change over time and borders. In some countries, (Japan, perhaps?) there are no laws against child abuse (in countries where child marriage is practiced, it is acceptable for a man to have sex with a little girl so long as he is married to her). And there are probably some countries where child abuse books are illegal. If UK laws had been the other way around, and it was illegal to read child abuse books, but legal to view child porn, then would public opinion switch too? I think it probably would. If people secretly went online to read child abuse stories, but child porn magazines adorned the shelves of Sainsbury's, would our opinions switch too? I think they would, and if I'm right, then we are fickle and uncommitted to our beliefs, proving that there is not much of a distinction between child porn and child abuse books; it's just legal precedent and social convention.

All together now

A final possibility is that some or all of the above reasons group together to distinguish child porn from child abuse books. Child porn is visual, illegal, usually created by abusers, and the viewers are (mostly) men who are watching it for sexual gratification. Child abuse books are literary, legal, usually created by victims, and the readers are (mostly) women who are reading it with sympathy.

When put like that, the argument seems more convincing... but if as I've shown above, each of the constituent parts of the argument are unconvincing, then merely adding several unconvincing arguments together doesn't really make it convincing. Five wrongs don't make a right.

Conclusion

It doesn't look like the law or public opinion on this pseudo-distinction between child porn and child abuse books is going to change any time soon. It looks as though, for the foreseeable future, looking at child porn will (rightly) be seen as abhorrent and immoral, but reading about child abuse will (wrongly) be seen as a perfectly legitimate pastime.

Am I the only one who finds this distinction weird? I don't know. But whenever I meet someone who enjoys reading books describing child abuse, I can't help but feel disturbed, and I wonder why they are reading these books. If you ask me, books which describe child abuse in graphic detail should not be adorning the shelves of supermarkets and bookshops, available for anyone of any age to buy, read, and enjoy. I suggest that the readers of child abuse books should be viewed with suspicion, and perhaps even scrutinised by the police.