Birds, Bees, and (Abortion) Bans

Last Tuesday, abortion-rights advocates around the country held rallies in response to restrictive abortion laws or bills passed or introduced in several states. At the events, legislators and protesters decried the bills as an attack on women’s rights, an attempt by men to control women’s bodies.

This refrain, that abortion is an issue that divides the sexes, is a common narrative — at least in my social and professional circles. But it’s discordant with data that shows that men and women within a given society, including the United States, often have very similar views on abortion. A graphic from the Pew Center illustrates this nicely:

FT_18.12.14_femaleMaleAbortion420px

Broadly speaking, with respect to the above graph, the differences between nations are much greater than the sex-based differences within them. This suggests to me that cultural factors play a larger role than sex in determining one’s position on abortion and that men and women seem roughly equally sensitive to these forces.

I wanted to check if a similar phenomenon could be observed within the United States’ population. To get a sense of this, I pulled data from the 2018 General Social Survey, which asks respondents “whether or not [they] think it should be possible for a pregnant woman to obtain a legal abortion if the woman wants it for any reason” — a question similar but not identical to the one the Pew Center asks above.

Unfortunately, the GSS doesn’t release data about which state respondents live in unless you pay for it, which I’m not going to do (since I have certainly not made any money with this blog). So that means we can’t examine the opinions of residents where legislators have moved toward a more restrictive stance on abortion. We can, however, get data at the regional level, which seems like an OK proxy.

The regions used by the GSS aren’t entirely conventional — for example, Montana and New Mexico are both in the “Mountain” region — so here’s a chart for reference:

Gss Map

Keeping with the format, if not pleasing aesthetics, of the Pew graph, here are the results by region, arranged by the percentage of women who think a pregnant woman should be able to get an abortion for any reason.

abortion any reason
My chart title game is weak. Forgive me. Again, the text of the prompt is: “Please tell me whether or not you think it should be possible for a pregnant woman to obtain a legal abortion if the woman wants it for any reason.”

Our regional chart resembles Pew’s international chart in that it shows larger variances between regions than within them. Notably, the four regions below the national average — South Atlantic, West South Central, West North Central, and East South Central — contain states where restrictive abortion bills have been introduced. Even more notably, women in three of those four regions are less likely than men to have responded affirmatively.

Let’s take a look at another question from the GSS that asks respondents for their views on the morality of abortion. The question is, “Leaving aside whether or not you think abortion should be legal, are you morally opposed to abortion or not, or would you say it depends?”

Again, results are sorted by the percentage of female respondents — this time those stating a moral opposition to abortion.

Moral opposition abortion
The question as written is: “Leaving aside whether or not you think abortion should be legal, are you morally opposed to abortion or not, or would you say it depends?”

In nearly every region in the United States, the percentage of women morally opposed to abortion is greater than the share of men reporting the same. I was so surprised by these results I checked my code three times, but there you have it. It may be explained in part by greater religiosity among women. Nonetheless, it’s out of sync with the narrative that the push for a more restrictive stance on abortion is a manifestation of men’s desires to enforce their beliefs on women since by and large the women in question share these beliefs. (That said, the bills and laws, from what I can tell, are wildly out of step with the way Americans broadly think about abortion.)

I’ll wrap up by saying that I don’t believe the people decrying a war on women’s rights are being disingenuous. I know enough people, men and women, who hold this belief to know that’s sincerely the way they see things. I don’t know very many, possibly any, strictly anti-abortion people — New Englander here — but I think it’s necessary to take their claims on good faith, too. Presumably 30% of women in the South East are not hostile to women’s rights as they see them.

What Colleges Sell (continued)

I’m obviously not one to prioritize quantity when it comes to writing. Counting this one, I’ve written four blog posts this year — not great for a guy whose New Year’s resolution set the pace at two per month. Even less so when you consider that half of them have now been follow-up posts.

However, there was some interesting Facebook discussion on my last post that I felt merited some elucidation here, where those who don’t follow me on social media can digest it. (I won’t ask anyone to follow on social, but to those of you who are here via social media, you should subscribe to get these posts by email.) I’m also working on something else that’s a bit involved, and I thought this would be a good stopgap.

As loyal readers are aware, my last post touched on the college-admissions scandal and the cultural legwork being done by our vision of education as a transformative asset.

Elite colleges sell these ideas back to us by marketing education as a transformative experience, an extrinsic asset to be wielded. In an unequal society, this is a particularly comforting message, because it implies:

  1. The world works on meritocracy. High-status individuals not only are better than most, they became so through efforts the rest of us can replicate.
  2. We can achieve equality of outcomes with sufficient resources. This has the added bonus of perpetuating the demand for high-end education.

An observation I couldn’t figure out how to work in is that getting into elite colleges seems by far the hardest part of graduating from them. Admissions is, after all, the part of the process the accused parents were cheating, and to my knowledge, none of the students involved were in danger of failing out, despite having been let in under false pretense.

The low bar for good grades at elite colleges, the “Harvard A,”¹ is so widely acknowledged that to call it an open secret would be misleading.² Stuart Rojstaczer, the author of gradeinflation.com documents two distinct periods of grade inflation in the last 50 years: the Vietnam War era, in which men who flunked out would likely be sent off to fight an unpopular war, and the “Student as a Consumer” era of today.

The transition to the latter has meant a change in teaching philosophy and an increased centrality of the admissions process. On his website, Mr Rojstaczer quotes a former University of Wisconsin Chancellor as saying, “Today, our attitude is we do our screening of students at the time of admission. Once students have been admitted, we have said to them, ‘You have what it takes to succeed.’ Then it’s our job to help them succeed.” (Emphasis mine.)

This is consistent with my not-so-between-the-lines theorizing that the later-in-life achievements of elite colleges grads are mostly attributable to selection effects, not education. It turns out this was studied by Alan Krueger and Stacy Dale, who found salary differences between elite college graduates and those who applied to elite schools but didn’t attend were “generally indistinguishable from zero.”

Of course, this is kind of depressing, because if good schools don’t make “winners,” but rather attract and rebrand them, then it’s a lot easier to attribute their graduates’ success to factors that are not only beyond their control but for which there are likely no or few policy levers — genetics, culture, family structure, and others.

I think this is an unwelcome conclusion to the point that even incontrovertible evidence — whatever that would look like — would be ignored or stigmatized by polite society. Most people probably agree that public policy should keep away from these areas of life.³

Regardless, I think we should be more honest with ourselves about our obsession with elite schools and our expectations of education more generally.

*

Footnotes:

  1. In case you don’t feel like clicking the link: In 2013, Harvard’s dean revealed the median grade awarded at the school to be an A-, while the most common grade given was a straight A.
  2. Though apparently to a lesser degree, this has been the case at four-year colleges across the board, not just top-tier private ones.
  3. Then again, maybe they don’t. A recent survey of over 400 US adults found “nontrivial” levels of support for eugenic policies among the public, increasing with the belief that various traits — intelligence, poverty, and criminality — are heritable and also associated with attitudes held by the respondent about the group in question. The questions in the study were framed as support for policies that would encourage or discourage people with particular traits to have more or fewer children. (If you have 10 minutes, read the study, freely accessible at slatestarcodex. Also good: Scott Alexander’s piece on social censorship, in which the aforementioned paper is linked.)

What Colleges Sell

The recent college-admissions scandal has me, and probably many of you, thinking about the institutional power of elite colleges. It’s remarkable that even those we would consider society’s “winners” aren’t immune to their pull. Take for example Olivia Giannulli, who is from a wealthy family; has nearly 2 million YouTube followers; owns a successful cosmetics line (pre-scandal, anyway); and whose parents, Laurie Loughlin and Mossimo Giannulli, allegedly paid $500,000 to get her and her sister accepted to USC.

Why?

The standard line is that the point of college is to learn. Getting into a better school avails one of better information, which translates into more marketable skills—human capital accrual, in economics jargon. The many deficiencies of this view have birthed the somewhat-cynical “signaling theory”: the idea that college degrees serve mainly as signals to employers of positive, pre-existing characteristics like intelligence or attention to detail.

Signalling theory is powerfully convincing, but it doesn’t fully explain the insanity endemic to the elite college scene. There’s more going on at the individual, familial, and societal levels.

First the individual. If the human capital isn’t the point, social capital could be. The student bodies of elite schools are well curated for networking among the intelligent, the wealthy, and what we might call the “legacy crowd”—non-mutually exclusive groups that mutually benefit from this four-year mixer. Who you sit next to in class might matter more than what’s being taught.

Colleges, particularly those of renown, provide a sense of unabashed community that is in short supply elsewhere in American life. If you read universities’ marketing or speak with admissions staff, this is often a selling point. The idea that former classmates and fraternity brothers become a nepotistic social network post-graduation is intuitive, and probably a very compelling reason to attend a particular school.¹

What’s true for the individual is true for the family. Parents want the best for their children, and they know the kinds of doors attending the right school will open. But for parents, there are added elements at stake: self- and peer-appraisal.² That is, as educational attainment has become accepted not only as a means to but validation of social mobility, parents have come to define their success by the institutions their children attend. YouGov polling found that thirty-four percent of parents would pay a college prep organization to take a college admittance test on their child’s behalf. One in four would pay college officials to get their child into a good school.

college bribery 2

I’d bet this is an understatement caused by social-desirability bias.³

Last up, and most interesting, is society at large. Even though most of us won’t attend a very prestigious university, if we attend one at all, the legitimacy of those institutions still rests on our perception. For us to be bought in, we need a culturally acceptable premise for the power enjoyed by Harvard, Yale, and the like—a role that can’t be filled by the networking and status-driven benefits I’ve described so far. This brings us full circle, back to the idea of higher education as a method of information conveyance.

Though the human capital accrual theory of education is probably bunk, most people’s belief in it feels sincere. In my view, this is the confluence of three phenomena: observed correlations between educational attainment and positive outcomes, our cultural commitments to self-sufficiency and equal opportunity, and a mostly unstated but potent desire to manufacture equality of outcomes.

Elite colleges sell these ideas back to us by marketing education as a transformative experience, an extrinsic asset to be wielded. In an unequal society, this is a particularly comforting message, because it implies:

  1. The world works on meritocracy. High-status individuals not only are better than most, they became so through efforts the rest of us can replicate.
  2. We can achieve equality of outcomes with sufficient resources. This has the added bonus of perpetuating the demand for high-end education.

The meritocratic, knowledge-driven higher education model is a product we’re all happy to buy because we like what it says about us. Its violation is disillusioning on a societal level, hence the disproportionate outrage created by scandal involving some 50 students.

Perhaps this is an opportunity to reexamine our relationship with and expectations of the upper echelons of higher education. If we find signaling theory compelling, and I personally do, shouldn’t a society committed to equality of opportunity and social mobility seek to marginalize, rather than fetishize, the institutional power of these universities?

Somewhat more darkly, we should ask ourselves if our belief in the transformative power of education might not be the product of our collective willing ignorance—a noble lie we tell ourselves to avoid confronting problems to which we have few or no solutions. If pre-existing traits—innate intelligence, social connections, wealth, and others—most accurately explain one’s success, what of the increasingly selective institutions that facilitate their convergence?

*

Footnotes:

  1. Though I’ve heard plenty of anecdotal claims to this effect (including from an admissions officer during a grad school interview), I don’t have any hard proof. If one of you knows of a such a study, point me in the right direction.
  2. I just wanted to note that this feels very in line with the general trend of wealthier people having fewer children but spending an enormous amount of resources to give them even very marginal advantages.
  3. This is when people respond to polls in the ways they think are more likely to be viewed favorably by others. Basically, people under-report bad behavior (maybe using drugs or committing crimes) and over-report good behavior (like voting).

The Kids Are All Right: Follow-up

My post on the relationship between ideology and fertility rates generated some great feedback and critiques (albeit mostly on a Facebook thread). Sadly, none of this was related to the awesome pun in the title of the piece. (Seriously, no love for “The Kids Are All Right”?)

Well, life goes on.

In light of the interest in the subject, I’ve decided to do a quick follow-up piece to address some readers’ questions and adding a bit of information, particularly as relates to this graph from the original post:

Conservative have more kids

1. Are there more people on the political left?

A couple people asked about the ideological composition of the nation and the sample I used. This is an important question, because if the political right makes up a small enough minority of the population or sample, then my graph, which shows the average number of children per respondents of different ideologies but doesn’t convey sample sizes, is a bit misleading—or at least less compelling. So my fault for not going into it in the first place.

Per the most recent polling by Gallup, The American electorate identifies as roughly 26% liberal, 35% moderate, and 35% conservative. This is after two decades of a slow, steady increase in the percentage of Americans calling themselves “liberal.” More on that later.

The sample I pulled from the General Social Survey (GSS) reflects Gallup’s national numbers pretty well: out of the total 8,539 respondents sampled, 2,346 (27.47%) identified as some degree of liberal, 3,285 (38.47%) as moderate, and 2,908 (34.50%) as some degree of conservative.

sample distribution

2. Are there more women on the political left?

I believe this question is getting at the same idea: if the majority of women are left of moderate, then the higher fertility of women on the right is less consequential for the electorate. According to Gallup’s national numbers, 30% of women identify as liberals—the same percentage as call themselves conservatives. For men, those numbers are notably different: 40% and 21%, respectively.

The sample I used showed more gender parity in ideologies, but it’s not hugely off. At any rate, the important thing is that the elevated fertility rates of conservative women can’t be written off as the effect of a small sample size.

men and women political ideologies

3. But the population has been getting more liberal. Doesn’t that kind of throw a wrench in this narrative?

Only time will tell, I suppose! To be clear, this is how many people read the tea leaves, and the story I’m telling is a bit of heterodoxy. While I can’t offer a firm answer to this question now, I have a few remarks:

  • The past is no guarantee of the future. (Ask GE shareholders, amirite?) Just because the electorate has been getting more liberal doesn’t mean it will continue to.
  • I suspect the secular trend toward liberalization is as influenced by macroeconomics and sociological factors as it is individual characteristics and experiences. The question is, what will be the effects of today’s macroeconomic and sociological upheaval on future voters—or their children?
  • Relatedly, I think time horizon matters a great deal when evaluating whether or not the future looks liberal or conservative. This is theory on my part, but maybe populations naturally move to the right over the long term (because conservatives reproduce more) unless cultural forces pulling leftward—economic globalization?—are sufficiently strong and sustained.
  • Finally, I think it’s worth noting that America’s liberal ranks are mostly swelling at the expense of its moderate contingent, perhaps due to increasing political polarization.

americans becoming more liberal
America has been getting more liberal at the expense of its moderate contingent

*

There were a few questions brought up to which I don’t have good answers at the moment. Without promising when, if at all, to address them—I’ve learned not to make firm commitments relating to this fine blog—here are two excellent threads I should follow:

  • Does completing various life milestones (having children, buying a house, getting married) make people more conservative? There must be some longitudinal studies on this somewhere…
  • To what extent do children’s political views match their parents’, and is there symmetry between liberals and conservatives in this regard? (I linked to one study by Gallup in the last post that suggested a 70% match between parents and their children, but there’s probably a lot more work on this out there.)

The Kids Are All Right

A notion that’s become somewhat common among the left in recent years is that American conservatives are demographically doomed. Very often, this is discussed in terms of race and age—an allusion to the declining share of the non-Hispanic white American population and the accompanying erosion of its political sway, as well as the fact that conservatives tend to be older.

On its face, this seems like a tidy theory. But under the surface, I think it’s a great deal more complicated than the (sometimes wishful) theorizing of liberal pundits allows.

First, as I wrote a couple of weeks ago, the American concept of race, whiteness in particular, is a moving target. I think there’s a solid chance it will look quite a bit different in a couple of decades. But a more interesting foil, I think, to the liberals-own-tomorrow theory manifests itself in fertility rates.

People are having fewer children the rich world over, causing consternation among governments of countries whose economic futures depend on population growth. The political implications of this alone are fascinating, but the general trend obscures another interesting story: the intranational ideological disparity in fertility.

Liberals, it appears, are having fewer children than their conservative counterparts. Combing through General Social Survey (GSS) results from the last 10 years provides a clear view of this phenomenon. Among heterosexual men between the ages of 35 and 50, those who identify as “extremely liberal” had on average 1.79 children, whereas those describing themselves as “extremely conservative” had 2.43. For women, the difference was even starker: “extremely liberal” women had 1.69 on average to “extremely conservative” women’s 2.63.

Conservative have more kids

Many factors contribute to this disparity—most of which concern liberal women’s increased preferences for family planning. Anecdotally, liberals are later to marry, more likely to pursue advanced degrees, less religious, and, among women, more likely to pursue careers—the confluence of which makes for fewer babies. This trend seems to have gotten stronger over the past few decades.

Widening Child Gap
Note: Data for this graph are inclusive of all respondents 18 and older, meaning there’s probably some bias toward conservatives having more children, as they tend to be older. It’s also possible that causality flows both ways: having families might make people more conservative.

All this is significant because there’s at least some evidence that, most of the time, children end up inheriting their parents’ political views. This makes sense whether you view political ideology as a product of nature—differences in brain structure that give some a proclivity for novelty and others an aversion to risk—or nurture. Either way, if liberals are bearing and raising fewer children, it could mean fewer liberal adults down the line.

There are a few signs this might already be happening. One study found that after decades of decline, high school students’ support for traditional gender roles in the family has been rising steadily since 1994. Goldman Sachs pegs the ascendant Generation Z as especially fiscally conservative. Finally, a survey by the Hispanic Heritage Foundation of 50,000 14 – 18-year-olds found—shockingly, in my view—that the majority identified as Republicans and would support Donald Trump in the 2016 election. (An important caveat to this survey was that nearly a third of those polled would have declined to vote, had they been able.)

The policy preferences of an increasingly conservative nation are one thing—and obviously ideology colors one’s assessment of how good or bad that would be. But what really worries me is the thought of an even more politically segmented society; one in which an increasingly liberal minority of elites maintains control of the nation’s cultural power centers and an increasingly conservative majority grows frustrated with its obsolescence in the new economy, which, intentionally or not, places a premium on educational attainment, city-living, and delayed entry into family life.

Whether it comes to pass or not, we shall see.

Sex!

Now that I have your attention

A week or two ago, the Atlantic published a great article by Kate Julian about the declining rates of sexual activity in young Americans. This was a bit of serendipity, as I’d recently been digging through the General Social Survey (GSS) searching for evidence of the same trend.

Looking at 18- to 35-year-old respondents—segmented by race and sex and without adjusting for other factors—I found that, loosely speaking, almost all demographic groups seemed to be experiencing a slight increase in celibacy.

No Sex
Note: In 2012, respondents from almost all groups reported nearly zero instances of sexlessness in the last year. I chalked it up to an outlier year and left it off to (hopefully) lend more accuracy to the trend lines.

This is rather surprising, given societal and technological developments over the last 30 years. To paraphrase Ms Julian’s opener: Sexual mores have greatly relaxed. Birth control and other forms of contraception are ubiquitous and affordable. Dating apps make it easier than ever to link supply and demand.

The stage seems set for a hedonistic revolution, but that’s not what we’re seeing.

Some factors implicated by her reporting include the over-scheduling of young adults, helicopter parenting, bad sex that leaves them (particularly young women) hesitant to come back for more, and increased inhibition among Millennials of both sexes.

But what interests me most is how the decline in sexual activity is partly due to a rise in anti-social behavior brought on by technology—a retreat from the interpersonal “meatworld” to bespoke pornography, sexting, and often fruitless screen-swiping. A feedback loop forms: The rarefication of in-person courtship has rendered it overly forward, which leaves less opportunity for young people to develop the social skills necessary to meet partners without the aid of an app.

I’ve never considered myself a Luddite; as recently as a few months ago, I was praising the internet for making “it easier than ever for people to exchange ideas.” But I have to admit I’m finding myself increasingly disillusioned by technology of the social media variety. Insofar as its mission is to bring people together, it seems to be failing.

Perhaps I’m growing cynical and dismal in my old age. Or—more likely “and”—perhaps there’s no suitable substitute for IRL socialization, and our quest for online community-building is inherently quixotic.

*

P.S. I looked into sexual activity frequencies for respondents ages 18 through 22 since the GSS started including the question in 1989, looking for changes in the college-age population. It’s not much, but it’s a bit interesting, so I’m including it here.

18-22 sex

Demographics Aren’t Destined

Last June, the Census reported the white-alone population to have declined by .2% in absolute terms between July 2016 and July 2017. Though it may seem trivial, this factoid has immense significance to those on opposing sides of the culture wars, both of which have taken it to herald the decline of white political significance and the rise of a more diverse, and therefore liberal, electorate.

Frankly, there’s too much there to talk about in one blog post. Instead, I’d like to address an issue that’s bugged me for a long time:

In projection after projection showing a minority-white America, Hispanic members of each racial category are separated and lumped into their own group, despite the racial diversity of Latin America. This is significant because the rising tide of American diversity is mainly the result of a four-decade wave of immigration from Latin America and the high fertility rate of their descendants (though both forces have recently calmed). In 1960, 3.5% of the country identified as Hispanic or Latino. Nearly 60 years later, that figure has risen to 18%, with expectations that a quarter of the country will identify as Hispanic by 2065.

But disaggregating Hispanics from racial categories is inconsistent, not just with official Census convention—which designates Hispanic/Latino an ethnicity, a variable mutually independent from race—but also with evidence that suggests many Hispanics are beginning to assimilate more wholly into the white population.

This isn’t a (just) pedantic rant about Census data. I think there’s a solid argument to be made that we’re actually in the middle of an expansion, rather than contraction, of American whiteness.

Take, for starters, that a slim majority of American Hispanics already identify as white, at least when asked about their race on the Census. This doesn’t seem like a vestige of a more racially animose time. Per the 2010 Census, 53% of US Hispanics describe themselves as “white alone,” up from 48% in 2000.

US Hisp Race
Between 2000 and 2010, the share of US Hispanics identifying as white alone increased, while the proportion selecting “some other race” when asked to identify decreased.

Secondly, Hispanic identity seems to fade the further removed from immigration a one is. According the Pew Center’s 2015 National Survey of Latinos, all but 3% of foreign-born Americans with Hispanic ancestry identify as Hispanic or Latino. In the second generation, that share increases only slightly, to 8%. But by the third and fourth generations, it climbs rapidly, to 23% and 50%, respectively. This is truer among younger cohorts.

All told, 11% of US adults with Hispanic ancestry do not identify as such. Because immigration has been replaced by native births as the main driver of US Hispanic population growth in the last few decades, it’s not unreasonable to expect this fraction of “non-Hispanics” to grow.

Hisp growth
Source: Based on Pew Research Center tabulations, Pew Research Center historical projections (Passel and Cohn, 2008).

Also worth considering are Hispanics’ growing geographical dispersion and high rate of intermarriage, especially among younger generations. Twenty-eight percent of 18- to 35-year-old US Hispanics are married to non-Hispanics. Again, this trend grows stronger the longer one’s family has been in the United States: nearly 60% of third-generation US Hispanics ages 18 to 35 are married to someone who isn’t Hispanic. Moving out of the city and marrying extra-ethnically seem, admittedly conjecturally, indicative of cultural assimilation.

It seems like Hispanics are following the arc of other (European and Levantine) immigrant groups who were once, and in some cases still are, considered outside the bounds of conventional whiteness. All of this is to say, I’m skeptical that the way Hispanics view themselves in 2018 is the way they will in 2050—especially as they become more enmeshed in mainstream American society.

Of course, this is just a prediction I’m making in my living room. I don’t have a crystal ball or any special insight into the minds of the American public. I’m going to end with some reasons things might not go as I imagine:

The 101 reason would probably be “politics,” with which race seems to have a bicausal relationship in America. It’s not hard to imagine the Republican party alienating Hispanics with nativism while selling themselves, intentionally or otherwise, as the party of White America. Similarly, Democrats’ ability to court Hispanics relies to some degree on the extent to which they feel shut out from the cultural and political mainstream. Both could push Hispanics to think of themselves as non-white more frequently.

Relatedly, the Office of Management and Budget could affect Hispanics’ racial identities through bureaucratic means. A few years ago, there was talk of combining the race and ethnicity questions, with “Hispanic” offered as a choice alongside Asian, black, white, etc. As I noted at the time, this might bring the Census questions more in line with the way Americans think about race today—but it would also be putting a thumb on the scales. There’s really no neutral position for the Census to take in this matter.

Anecdotally and finally, it also seems like the psychic benefits of whiteness have waned a lot over the last few decades—especially as regards low-status whites. Part of this owes to good news: cultural progress on matters of race, which has begun to erode the relatively elevated status enjoyed by whites at the expense of minorities. Other explanations are more sinister and reflect anomic decay in the white population: rising rates of suicide, drug overdoses, and voluntary unemployment. For one reason or another, whiteness no longer feels as enviable a club as it probably did in the 20th century when Italians, Jews, and other so-called “white ethnics” made the conscious effort to join its ranks.

Walking It Back

My last post was surprisingly popular—and not just among people who know me personally. I even managed to pick up a few new followers, who I’m afraid will be put off a bit when they discover travel writing isn’t aligned the usual subjects of this blog (but hopefully not!).

Anyway, as you may or may not recall, the last post incorporated a graph of the distance I’d walked the days before, during, and after various legs of my trip through Italy:

miles walked

In the graph’s caption, I glibly blamed my apparent sedentarism on my office job and commute. I like to think of myself as a decently fit person, you see. Surely, I reasoned, my desk job must be impeding an otherwise active lifestyle. I mean, I have a standing desk—clearly I’m a man who values his physical fitness.

It occurred to my a few days later that my hypothesis was actually pretty testable: if work and commuting were really to blame, my weekends should be significantly more active (measured by distance walked/run) than average. Apple has, for some reason, elected to make exporting health data from iPhones an incredibly difficult process. So, with the zeal of an intern, I manually entered 242 days worth of mileage, attempting to evidence my claim.

Looking back, my naiveté was almost cute. In the era of “binge-watching,” I really believed myself exceptional.

The raw data is pretty depressing. The mean distance walked is 1.54 miles. But the data is right-skewed, meaning outliers on the upper end of the distribution are pulling the mean higher. (The median distance walked over this period is a shockingly low .985 miles.) It’s also telling that the distribution isn’t bimodal, which would indicate two distinct populations—in the case of my hypothesis, weekdays and weekends.

Miles Walked histboxmiles

I could have quit here, but I’ve touched on the importance of publishing negative results before and therefore had a cross to bear. To make the data set more normal, I removed outliers (in this case, all values greater than 3.73 miles) and used a square-root transformation:

Square Root Miles Walked, no outliers

The means of our new, outlier-free population and the “weekend” sample (n=61) are, respectively, 1.023² miles and 1.046² miles, and the population standard deviation is .377² miles. At the 95% confidence level, the sample would have to have a mean of about 1.106² miles to be statistically higher than the average.

It is with great shame that I reject the alternate hypothesis. And I do hereby humbly apologize to office life for blaming it for what is clearly a personal shortcoming.

A few caveats, in case my health insurance provider is reading:

  • I do exercise most days before work. But mostly pull-ups, lunges, and other anaerobic stuff. I only run sporadically—and when I do, I don’t always bring my phone with me.
  • I can’t vouch for the accuracy of the iPhone’s pedometer. Anecdotally, I’ve heard it isn’t great, and light research confirms it has trouble measuring steps under some common conditions, like being held or kept in a backpack.
  • The combination of the above suggests iPhone health data offers a convenient but incomplete metric to assess one’s activity. For example, July 31, a day my phone credits me with walking 4.7 miles, also happens to be a day I went for a 30-mile bike ride.
  • Including Fridays in the “weekend” sample raises the mean distance slightly, to 1.08 miles, but still not enough to achieve statistical significance.
  • Uh, I will try to do better.

Summer Vacation to Italy

We’re going to try something a little different with today’s post. Instead of a research piece, I’m just going to tell you about my and my girlfriend’s trip to Italy.

This idea was partly born of my growing distaste for social media—the blog post, that is, not the trip to Italy. Standard operating procedure when someone my age takes a trip is to upload photos to Facebook or its increasingly popular appendage, Instagram (filters and ironic captions appreciated but not required). High on endorphins, dehydrated, and possibly a little drunk somewhere in southern Italy, I hatched this quixotic act of rebellion: to post—no, upload—my photos to my own site, thereby subverting one of the day’s most powerful and opaque companies.

It’s stupid, but I’m sticking to it.

It also so happens that a few people have asked me for more detail about the trip than I care to provide in a comment or photo description. I’ll try my best to cover it all without going overboard.

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Our trip began in Rome. We spent three days in the capital doing the obligatory sightseeing: we went to the Vatican Museums, the Sistine Chapel, the Roman Forum, the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, the Spanish Steps (twice), the Capuchin Crypt, the Da Vinci Experience, and some lesser attractions.

This involved lots of waiting in line, fending off potential tour guides (both legitimate and otherwise, I suspect), and, above all, walking. All told, we walked almost 25 miles in just over three days.

miles walked
Data courtesy of my iPhone. Sedentarism courtesy of my office job and commute.

That kind of tourism, seeing major attractions and waiting in lines, really isn’t my style. But I have to admit, it was worth it. It really wouldn’t have been right to go to Rome and do otherwise. Plus, I kind of have a thing for architecture.

Volumes have been written about the beauties of ancient Rome, so I won’t wax poetic about the Colosseum or Michaelangelo’s greatest works. I will, however, say that the Capuchin Crypt, intricately decorated with the bones of thousands, including some children, is bananas. You should drop by if you’re in Rome. (They also don’t allow photos, but Megan was able to snag some while the attendant wasn’t looking.)

Beyond visiting the usual tourist attractions, we mostly ate and drank while in Rome. It’s a beautiful, humid city.

The next leg of our trip took us to Puglia. We used Lecce, a city of just under 100,000 people known for its baroque architecture, as a base from which we took day trips to towns on the Pugliese coast.

Instead, we spent our time in the south on the beach. We went to Otranto first, a white city with a beautiful port and precise geometric architecture. We ate raw fish (actually, we did that just about everywhere we went), drank wine, and tempted fate by falling asleep on the beach without sunscreen.

Our next stop took us to Castrignano del Campo, a small town on the very edge of the Italian “heel”. The view of the turquoise Adriatic Sea is the kind of beautiful scene you hope for when you buy a plane ticket. Italians, we noticed, have an interesting take on what constitutes a beach. We followed the crowds to a porous, jagged slab of what I believe was volcanic rock. As I gingerly climbed across the “beach”—on all fours after my flip flops broke—the Italians were pretty much treating it like sand, some laying directly on it. America has made us soft.

Heading north toward Bari, from which we would fly back to Boston, we stopped in Alberobello, a town tucked away in the mountains of Puglia. The town is famous for being full of trulli, medieval stone huts built collapsible and without mortar to aid in tax evasion. (Many of the ones we saw looked pretty permanent, though.)

Aside from Rome, Bari was the second largest city we visited. Unlike the capital, it doesn’t feel touristy—which I don’t mean in a particularly nice way. It was definitely safer and prettier than I was led to believe—neither the internet nor Italians from the region are hold much regard for it—but not quite memorable.

The surrounding town of Polignano a Mare was a different story. Of particular interest to me were the swimming spots, though we regrettably forgot to bring our suits. The town center is a beautiful labyrinth of whitewashed buildings, buzzing with amateur photographers, day-drinkers, and crowded gelato shops.

Oh, and while were there, we ate dinner in a cave. It was a little nicer than it sounds—and yes, that is my (vastly inferior) reprisal of Tom Haverford’s espresso shot.

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Other scattered thoughts from my trip:

  • Language: If you know other Latin languages, which I happen to, Italian is really easy to get a hold of. I decided to learn some a few weeks before we took off, and it was actually pretty helpful, especially in the provincial south where multilingualism is rarer. More important, I think, is that it seemed appreciated by most Italians. For you travelers out there: I highly recommend learning at least the basics before you head somewhere. Counterpoint: if you’re not obviously foreign and get good enough at the beginnings of conversations (which are often rote), people will ask you for directions.
  • Getting away from American media was an unexpected blessing. My job is politics-adjacent, and that I managed to get away during the Manafort convictions is wonderful beyond description. A self-imposed Facebook moratorium, aided by a lack of overseas data, was key to this.
  • Trap music has definitely made it to Italy, as has Brazilian funk, oddly. I was also surprised to see—or hear, I guess—how much Italians seem to like reggaeton.
  • Driving in Italy is a rush. The roads, built centuries ago, are far narrower, and there’s basically no delineation between what areas belong to pedestrians and drivers.
  • Food: super expensive, super good.

Environmentalism Could Use Some Ideological Diversity

Before we get into it: If you’re here by virtue of a Facebook ad and you like what you read, consider following this blog directly. Go ahead. Hit that little red box over there and stick it to Zuckerberg. ⇒

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Environmentalism, once a point of mutual agreement between liberals and conservatives, is flagging under the demand to meet the highest standards of left-wing activism. For an example, look no further than the latest craze in pop environmentalism: local straw bans.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that straw bans—local laws prohibiting restaurants from giving straws and other single-use plastics to customers—are springing up across America. All told, 28 US cities, joined by a growing list of businesses that includes Starbucks, have so far banned or limited the use of plastic straws or are considering doing so.

While these bans are moving at a steady clip in progressive enclaves, they haven’t been without detractors. As one might expect, the plastics and restaurant industries aren’t thrilled, and the bans have exasperated others who point out that plastic straws make up about .03% of the plastic that enters our oceans each year.

Those objections were never destined to blunt the enthusiasm of the celebrity-fueled campaign to #stopsucking. But another argument, made from within the ranks, has proven far more effective: Several disability advocates have pointed out that plastic straws, considered by most an item of convenience, are in fact essential to the dining experience for people with mobility issues. By outright banning them, they argue, these cities and businesses are forgetting about and harming disabled people.

The traction of this counter—the same argument has appeared in the Washington Post, Vox, Time, the Guardian, NPR, Teen Vogue and many more outlets—says a lot about how far left environmentalism has moved. The appeal of behalf of the disabled is effective because it, like other forms of progressive activism, appeals to the moral touchstones of protecting victims and promoting equality. Environmentalism, though practically a poster child for non-partisanship, is often pitched the same way: save the rain forest, protect the environment, the victims of climate change. This has no doubt added to its polarization, as this messaging is less effective with moderates and conservatives.

The progressive desires to protect victims and strive for equality have unquestionably been the impetus for much positive change in American society. But they can also be a weakness: left unchecked, progressive movements can auto-cannibalize as these motivations are pursued at the expense of all else—including their original goals.

A few notorious examples: The now-defunct Cape Wind project, which could have farmed enough wind energy to power 200,000 homes, met with tremendous resistance from Massachusetts residents who cited concerns about the effects on local fish and bird populations (as well as some less noble complaints about the view). The Ivanpah solar tower faced constant legal and political resistance from California environmentalists, despite estimates that it would prevent the emission of 500,000 metric tons of carbon per year. Dams and other forms of hydroelectric power, responsible for close to half of all the renewable energy generation in the United States, are also known to provoke the ire of green activists.

In each case, progressives who otherwise champion the worthwhile goal of cleaner energy are letting the perfect be the enemy of the good. The desire to avoid harming anyone vulnerable at any cost can lead to paralysis. In environmentalism, where big changes are difficult and marginal actions more tempting, the costs are more likely to be borne by those for whom a seeming inconvenience can be a prohibitive obstacle. That can be uncomfortable under normal circumstances, but when advocates are overwhelmingly hyper-sensitive to the “losers” side of the equation, as progressives often are, it can be downright intolerable.

Yet if we mean to make an omelette, eggs must be broken. While I personally think the straw ban craze is more performative than functional, there will no doubt be times when our society will have to make trade-offs to protect our natural world. If you think “the rich” alone will bear these costs, you’re kidding yourself. I’m not saying that environmentalists should be okay with making the lives of disabled people harder (and in this case, the workaround suggested by disability advocates—that restaurants simply stop offering them to everyone and keep some on hand for requests—is entirely reasonable). What I am saying is there will be tough choices on the road ahead, and environmentalism must decide if it will pursue left-wing purity or practicality.

Should it choose the latter, it will need to diversify its support. There won’t always be a happy marriage between impactful environmentalism and progressive values. For environmental groups to weather the political storm, they’ll have to be able to tap sources of support from outside the left.

Of course, this isn’t a one-way street; people outside the political left will have to start caring about these issues in much more visible ways and be willing to push their representatives. As it is, they’re giving up their chance to shape a movement and be part of the conversation. Unfortunately, for the moment, conservative political environmentalism remains somewhat niche. That’s a shame because the long-term viability of life on Earth is perhaps the greatest and most complicated matter concerning humanity. It would be foolish to think any political faction could tackle it alone.

This post originally appeared on Merion West