When walking alone through the medina here in Essaouira, Julie occasionally gets unwanted male attention. It’s low-key and harmless, and comes with the territory. It’s not nearly as bad as she’s experienced in Italy, though.
In both Palermo and Rome, she was constantly harassed by Italian men. She couldn’t sit down to have a coffee without some chotch doggedly attempting to join her. She was followed for a block down the street, and solicited by an aging hound dog who was definitely on the wrong side of seventy. These men really wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The success rate is greater than zero, and the effort involved is worth the occasional success. If they never succeeded, you’d think that they’d eventually give up.
The behaviour has nothing to do with earning female affections, and everything to do with lekking. From Wikipedia: “A lek is a gathering of males, of certain animal species, for the purposes of competitive mating display.”
A premise of that book is that our brains stoppped evolving 10,000 years ago, and that our basic goal in life is simple: reproduction. Presumably the psychological goal of option #2 is to intimidate the other males in the lek, and get to the female first.
But why is this practice particularly common in Italy (I’m sure it’s common in other countries–this is just the worst among those that we’ve visited)? It’s probably cultural.
I wanted to use this photo to illustrate this post, but it was all rights reserved.
I know nothing about professional wrestling. I’ve never watched it. Like skateboarding or, I don’t know, BMXs, it failed to get its claws into me as a pre-teen.
And I’ve always been a little awed by the fervor of the fans, children and adults alike. They’re watching theatre, after all, and it’s all so gladiatorial. One of my profs (the eminent and talented Allan Stichbury) told me that if I wanted to learn how to direct theatre-in-the-round, I should watch professional wrestling.
Frequently, when we visit our local haunt for pizza, we’ll find the proprietor’s elder, gnomish father leaning back in a chair, watching WWE on the restaurant television. He barely speaks a word of English, but doesn’t need to. He just loves to see those glossy guys dive on each other off the turnbuckle.
That’s a long introduction to this CBC interview (MP3) I recently listened to with Bret “The Hitman” Hart. I guess he’s written a tell-all book. In the interview, he discusses a bunch of stuff I’ve always wondered about: just how fake is the ’sport’? Is the blood real? Are all wrestlers on steroids?
I’m no more interested in wrestling than I was before hearing the interview, but I’m a little more informed.
On a related note, I submitted the CBC interview to Digg (there’s not enough, uh, sports content on that site). In less than 45 minutes, my Digg post was in Google’s index. I knew Google was fast, but I didn’t know you could measure the time-to-index in minutes instead of hours. Of course, I’m sure Digg gets plenty of attention from the Burning Eye of Google.
When Julie was at the Edinburgh Book Festival, she picked up a copy of A. C. Grayling’s The Reason of Things. She really liked it, so I’ve started reading it. I’m really digging it.
The book’s sub-title is “Living with Philosophy”, and it’s comprised of short essays on broad topics like “Safety” or “Remembrance”. Grayling is a professor of philosophy, wrote columns for The Guardian, and apparently still contributes to one of their blogs.
The essays are probably 1000 to 1500 words, and so it’s a joy to read two or three at a time and let them percolate in my brain. Grayling is an excellent thinker and extremely well-read. Consider this from his essay “Conservation”:
An egregious example often cited is the rebuilding of the old centre of Warsaw - ‘dov’era, com’era’, as was said of the collapsed campanile of Venice: ‘where it was, as it was’ - as an exact replica of its former self. Walking through it makes one uncomfortable; it is ersatz, and feels like a mistaken gesture, a refusal to face facts and move on.
I’m reminded of the Stari most, a 16th-century bridge in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina that was destroyed during the conflict there. They rebuilt the bridge exactly as it was, using a combination of salvaged material and new stone. Is it the same bridge or not? A philosophical question that might fit in Grayling’s book.
My friend and recent Malta guest Monique wrote to tell me about Trading in Memories, a strange little book by Barbara Hodgson (she needs a Wikipedia entry). I haven’t read the book, but I did look through a sample chapter about Budapest (PDF). Here’s a little excerpt:
Unchanging through rain or shine, however, were the well-stocked and plentiful antikvárium, the antiquarian and secondhand bookstores. The first thing that struck me about them was the stack of plastic baskets—the sort you find at supermarkets—inside the entrance to each one. The second thing was that customers were carrying these baskets and filling them up. Either the citizens of Budapest are voracious readers or they love being surrounded by books.
It’s a little unfair to judge from a three-page sample, but the prose seems unremarkable. However, the books are beautifully illustrated with artifacts and old photos. It’s a bit like scrapbooking gone professional. That’s why I made the connection to Nick Bantock’s beautiful but awfully twee Griffin and Sabine books.
The folks at Penguin sent me a review copy of Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters, by Alan S. Miller and Satoshi Kanazawa. It’s a provocative primer on the newish science of evolutionary psychology, and a direct attack on the central notions of more traditional sociology. I gather that evolutionary psychology is fairly hot at the moment, given all the attention that Steven Pinker has been generating lately (here’s a dry but informative interview with Pinker on evolutionary psychology).
The book’s premise is pretty straight-forward. We have one goal in life: reproduction. It’s all about sex. The authors look at many aspects of human culture–from dating to war–through this lens.
I was immediately hooked when I read a section in the introduction about stereotypes:
But we suggest that you cannot dismiss an observation by calling it a stereotype, as if that suddenly makes it untrue and thus unworthy of discussion and explanation. In fact, the opposite is the case. Many stereotypes are empirical generalizations with a statistical basis and thus on average tend to be true.“
They point out that stereotypes have a bad name because they are, in many cases, unkind or offensive to a particular group. “Women are shorter than men” and “women are fatter than men” are both accurate empirical generalizations, but the second becomes a stereotype because no one wants to be regarded as fat. I, too, have always felt that stereotypes have an unnecessarily bad name.
Blondes, Breasts and Suicide Bombers
After an introduction to evolutionary psychology and what’s wrong with traditional sociology, Miller and Kanazawa spend the rest of the book rigorously applying their approach to the practicalities of our lives. These were just a few of the more controversial ideas that have stuck with me:
There’s only one human culture. We think of cultures are highly divergent, but in fact they are far more the same than different.
Men prefer large breasts and blonde hair because (compared to small breasts and dark hair), they change dramatically with age. Therefore, it’s easier to identify the youngest and therefore most fecund potential mates.
In every culture around the world, women prefer to mate with older men, and men prefer to mate with younger women. This is because older men will, in general, be better providers for their offspring, and younger women are healthier, more reliable baby-makers.
Attaining high political office is just a means to have access to a large pool of potential mates. See also President Clinton.
So controversial, I’ll quote it (based on research described in this book, apparently): “The sex gap in earnings and the so-called glass ceiling are caused not by employer discrimination or any other external factors, but by the sex differences in internal preferences, values, desires, dispositions and temperaments…more careful statistical comparisons of men and women who are equally motivated to earn money show that women now earn 98 cents for every dollar men make, and sex has no statistically significant effect on workers’ earnings.”
Most suicide bombers are young, single Muslim men because they are ‘losers’ in the evolutionary game. This is particularly true because Muslim societies are somewhat polygynous, and some men don’t get a chance to pass on their genes. On the other hand, they can look forward to 72 guaranteed mates in the afterlife.
In her 1998 book, Judith Rich Harris “methodically demolishes the universally held assumption that how parents raise their children is a major determining factor in how they turn out…widely condemned by politicians and the media alike, it is in fact corroborated by behaviour genetic research.”
Smart Guys and Plenty of Studies
In terms of approach, this book belongs on the same shelf with Stumbling on Happiness, The Tipping Point and Freakonomics. You know, books where smart guys do some original thinking, cite a bunch of studies and present it to us Normal Humans in terms we can understand.
Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters feels more scientific than these other books. Miller and Kanazawa present their work carefully, with plenty of skepticism and disclaimers. There’s even a section at the end of the book called “Stump the Evolutionary Psychologists”, for phenomenon (such as homosexuality) which their approach can’t satisfactorily explain. Because of this more academic approach, their theories should be more compelling than Galdwell’s or Levy’s.
However, Miller and Kanazawa aren’t particularly strong writers, and have little interest in the storytelling that makes boks like The Tipping Point so readable. The authors never use a contraction, and often repeat themselves, to the point of irritating the reader. The book is certainly readable–it’s not overly dry or academic–but it lacks the lyricism that, to my mind, makes these other books such mainstream successes.
I’m judging a book by its cover, but this version (there’s also a documentary of the same name) seems more hopeful and redemptive than the book, which felt pretty bleak to me.
On a barely related note, Marina also links tothe trailer for The Mist, a new horror film based on one of my favourite Stephen King short stories. If you ask me, they show way too much of the baddies.
