“Several studies have found that, on average, there’s some physical similarity between one’s parent and one’s partner. That is, your girlfriend might well look a little bit like your mother. This physical similarity is apparent whether you ask strangers to compare facial photos of partners and parents, or whether you assess things such as parent and partner height, hair or eye colour, ethnicity, or even body hair.”

Why? Familiar things are attractive. So long as something isn’t initially aversive, and you’re not over-exposed, then in general something will become more appealing the more you encounter it. Part of the attraction to parental features could be attributed to this familiarity effect. Yet familiarity doesn’t account for the whole phenomenon. First, people’s partners seem to be more likely to resemble the parent of the corresponding gender: girlfriends match mothers, and boyfriends match fathers, irrespective of whether they’re in a heterosexual or homosexual relationship. Second, emotional closeness to a parent increases the likelihood that your partnerwill resemble your parent.

Another possible reason is that, biologically speaking, prime reproductive partners sometimes look a little like our parents. Of course, incest itself is a different game: reproduction between close relatives can lead to dangerous recessive genetic disorders. And yet, some genes work well together, so a partner with subtle resemblance to family members might actually be one whose genetic material contains some of that useful overlap. A wonderful study of all known couples in Iceland across a 165-year period found that those with the most grandchildren were related at about the level of third or fourth cousin – no more, no less. So it seems there is some evolutionary advantage to finding traces of parental features attractive.

But what about sibling appearance? My research team and I realised that explanations for the appeal of parental features would also tend to apply to sibling features. Indeed, in historical high-fertility populations, siblings might have been more frequent and therefore more familiar playmates than parents. So, in our latest study, instead of looking at the similarities between partners and parents, we turned our focus onto brothers. We collected together facial photographs of the brothers and male partners of 56 women. Some of the women were volunteers whom we contacted directly, and some were people whom we didn’t know personally, but who had a sufficient public profile that we could identify their brother and boyfriend. We then asked female volunteers to compare each photo of a woman’s brother against four other men, one of whom was that woman’s partner. The volunteers did not know that the men they saw were the brothers and partners of specific women. The volunteers ranked every group of four partners according to how much they looked like the brother.

If there was no similarity at all between a woman’s brother and partner, then we’d expect the volunteers to pick randomly, selecting each of the four pictures one quarter of the time. When we looked just at the raw numbers, we found that nearly one third of the raters’ choices were for the ‘correct’ brother-boyfriend pair as looking most similar. However, these raw numbers are only indicative, and we wanted to know how we might extrapolate the data to the population at large. We used a statistical model to predict this, which indicated that if we generalised beyond our dataset, people would select the correct brother-boyfriend pair as most similar 27 per cent of the time, and as first or second most similar a combined 59 per cent of the time (instead of 50 per cent). The model predicted that people would say that a woman’s boyfriend and her brother looked least alike just 16 per cent of the time.

Of course, not every woman in our study had a partner who looked like her brother, and that is true of women in the world at large. But when we compared our data to the data from previous studies, it appeared that people’s boyfriends resemble their brothers about as much as people’s partners resemble their parents. Since siblings resemble their parents, it’s possible that brother-boyfriend resemblance is merely an essential corollary of parent-partner resemblance, or even vice versa.

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posted by f.sheikh

Readers who have followed several incarnations of my blogs (like this one, and this one, and this one) will have easily figured out that, politically speaking, I lean left, though with a number of qualifications and caveats. But I make a point of reading conservative authors and columnists, for a couple of reasons: first, to keep up with what they say and how they think (so to sharpen my own opinions and arguments), and second because they too, at least some of the times, have something interesting or constructive to say.

A recent example is David Brooks, a regular New York Times columnist, who is defined by Wikipedia as a Canadian-born American conservative political and cultural commentator who writes for The New York Times. On April 15, he has published a column for said newspaper entitled “Five lies our culture tells us.” I’d like to examine each of the lies in turn, in order to stimulate a discussion that may help us all see why such lies contribute to (or even, as Brooks argues, are at the root of) our political problems.

Lie n. 1: Career success is fulfilling. Brooks suggests that this lie is most evident at the point of college admissions, which put a lot of pressure on students (and their families) by instilling status anxiety. I think he is far too modest in his claim. Status anxiety is built into the very fabric of American society from the moment people are born. I live in Manhattan, and I know parents who fiercely compete (and pay outrageous amounts of money, and sometimes cheat) so that their five-year olds get into the best elementary schools. And it only gets worse from there.

A number of my students tell me that they have to defend tooth and nails their decision to major in philosophy because both peers and relatives are of the opinion that they are wasting their time and won’t make any money. (Which, incidentally, is not true.) Everyone is after grades, not learning, because they think the former, and not so much the latter, are what will get them a well paying job.

Also, as Brooks puts it, actually achieving things — even things you really wanted and thought meaningful — isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. He recalls the instance when his editor called him to tell him that his first book had made the best-sellers list. “It felt like … nothing. It was external to me.” I have had similar experiences, when my books come out, when I got my PhD in biology from the University of Connecticut, or the one in philosophy from the University of Tennessee. When I got my first academic job. And then the second. And the third. And the fourth.

But Brooks goes overboard when he implies that career achievements are not fulfilling. They can be. Especially if the career is meaningful in a broader sense. I’m sure he feels good about being a journalist and writer, contributing to society in a positive fashion. So do I, as a teacher and writer. The reason we don’t feel much once a goal has been accomplished is because we are already thinking of the next goal. The book just published has been in the rear mirror for months, and we have been working hard to finish the next one. Writing is a telic activity, as Aristotle pointed out, so it needs to be constantly renewed.

It also depends on what sort of contribution to society your career makes. If you are in the business of helping people, one way or another, that’s fulfilling (think of doctors, teachers, even lawyers). If you are in the business of harming them (e.g., working for a company that pollutes the environment, or makes weapons, or exploits people), not so much. And most businesses are neutral, neither making society better nor worse. Which means that the people who pursuit those careers tend to think of what they do as a means to pay bills, not a source of meaning for their lives.

Lie n. 2: I can make myself happy. The problem here, according to Brooks, is with the notion that happiness is an individual accomplishment, dependent on things such as winning one more time, losing ten more pounds, becoming better at whatever. By contrast, he points out, research shows that people on their deathbeds say that the things that made their lives worth living were loving relationships, not accomplishments.

Here I agree to a point. Yes, relationships are most definitely crucial for happiness. We are, after all, highly social animals. But relationships are hard to maintain, regardless of whether we are talking about friends, relatives, or partners. And sometimes it is a good thing to let go of a relationship, because it has gotten to the point of being more harmful than beneficial.

Moreover, there is something to the notion that happiness is “an inside job,” so to speak. Meaning is a human construct, and we — individually — are in charge of the particular meaning we invest other people, or what we do, with. So I would say that in a sense our happiness is up to us, and yet it does very much involve the way we relate to other people. One thing I know for sure, and I think Brooks will agree: when I’ll be on my deathbed, I won’t regret having forgone writing one more technical paper, especially at the expense of cultivating deep relationships with the people I love. But I will also cherish the memory of those few books that I wrote and I’m actually proud of…

Lie n. 3: Life is an individual journey. Brooks suggests that too many people think that a good life consists in racking up accomplishments, as if they were points in a video game. What matters is to get to the next level. And then the next one. Hence the bizarre American obsession with “bucket lists,” and the success of books like “1,000 Movies to See Before You Die.”

A corollary of this attitude is that we should be free in the sense of unimpeded by close ties and relationships. I remember when I first moved to New York, back in 2006, I saw advertisements (I forgot for what!) that said “If opportunity is around the corner, turn often.”

But that’s an impoverished view of “happiness,” one that is hedonistic in nature, discounting the fact that — on the contrary — in order to live a meaningful life we need to have bonds with others. Again, we are eminently social animals. I’m not sure I’d go as far as Brooks does when he writes that “it’s the chains we choose that set us free,” but that’s partly because I don’t consider my ties with my partner, my daughter, or my friends to be “chains.” They are more like symbiotic tendrils, through which life-giving substances flow back and forth between myself and those I love.

Lie n. 4: You have to find your own truth. Brooks calls this the “privatization of meaning.” He objects to what he sees as an attitude according to which everyone gets to choose their own values, their own answer to the ultimate questions in life. He mockingly warns that, unless your name is Aristotle, you ain’t likely to succeed, arguing instead that values are created by communities, in a group process that takes generations.

Yes. And No. There is no question that values — again, being a human construct — are created by people, and that such creation is indeed a group affair. If nothing else because if your values aren’t recognized by at least a minority of people in your community you are going to have a really tough time pursuing them.

But values also change over time, which I suppose it’s something that Brooks may less often be happy about. I mean, there is a reason why people use the word “conservative.” For instance, we are slowly — and certainly not inevitably — moving toward a society where gender, race, and religious affiliation don’t matter to someone’s prospects of living a good, fulfilling life. While we are still very far from that ideal, an increasing number of people do recognize it as an ideal to be pursued.

Let’s not forget that this wasn’t always the case. The 1926 (please notice the late date!) slavery convention, for instance, has been ratified as recently as 1953 by Australia, Canada, Liberia, New Zealand, South Africa, Switzerland, and the UK. By 12 more countries (including Italy) the following year. Nine more nations (including Israel) followed in 1954. Paraguay and Mauritania have joined the club only in 2007, and Kazakhstan only the following year. And of course the abolition of slavery doesn’t mean the extinction of racism.

Do we want to consider women’s right to vote instead? Saudi Arabia has granted it as late as 2015. But even Switzerland agreed only in 1971, Portugal in 1968, and Colombia in 1957. Even the so-called “greatest democracy in the world,” the United States, approved women’s suffrage as late as 1920. And of course there is the issue of gay and transgender rights, very much a work in progress. At best.

So, yes, values are not individual, they are societal. But societies evolve, and we — as individuals — do play a role in nudging the process forward, or at least not allowing it to slide backwards.

Lie n. 5: Rich and successful people are worth more than poorer and less successful people.Or, as Epictetus puts it with characteristic sarcasm:

“The following are non-sequiturs: ‘I am richer, therefore superior to you’; or ‘I am a better speaker, therefore a better person, than you.’” (Enchiridion 44)

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(Interesting article by Aaron Be-Ze’ev for young ones looking for partner as well as for married ones! f.sheikh)

‘I want a man who’s kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?’ 
Zsa Zsa Gabor, actress and socialite (1917-2016)

The search for ‘the one and only’ romantic partner, our second half who will love us forever and a day, and will light an eternal fire in our loving heart, has been a frustrating undertaking for many people. But why? Could the goal be unrealistic? Can we improve our strategy, and our chances, or should we give up the search?

The search for ‘The One’ can indeed feel futile. You might test what can feel like endless candidates and not find anyone you really like. You can travel great distances but never reach the Promised Land. Even when this land seems to be found, there is no lifetime guarantee, and the expiration date of this happy kingdom might be brief. Breakups, not long-term relationships, appear to be the norm. In many societies, about half of all marriages end in divorce, and lots of the remaining half have at some point seriously considered it.

In light of these difficulties, doubts have been raised concerning the value of this kind of search. One person might dismiss the quest altogether. ‘Done with trying to find a woman for life. Much easier to just hook up for a good short time. Avoid all the other personal drama!’ as one man told me. Another stops the search early, after finding profound love and connection when very young. ‘I’ve never regretted not ordering the fish when my steak arrived cooked and seasoned to my liking,’ said a woman who married her first lover. Yet others say they’ve found The One yet continue sampling what’s out there. ‘I want both – a long, profound love and a series of short, intense romantic-sexual experiences. Lust and profound love are both meaningful and satisfying for me,’ another woman explains.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the third option is preferable for most singles, at least in the United States: the eighth annual ‘Singles in America’ (2018) study from the dating site Match, supervised by the biological anthropologist Helen Fisher and the evolutionary biologist Justin Garcia, both of the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University in Bloomington, indicates that 69 per cent of today’s singles are looking for a serious, long, romantic relationship at the same time, nonetheless, as they are experiencing diverse, brief types of superficial, sexual relationships. For instance, many singles, especially women, have dated multiple people simultaneously. Most heterosexual singles would be open to a threesome, the report reveals, and one in four would have sex with a robot.

It is likely that these attitudes will continue after meeting the person who seems to be The One. In a 1996 study of sexual exclusivity among dating, cohabiting and married women, the sociologist Renata Forste at Brigham Young University in Utah and the public-health scientist Koray Tanfer in Seattle found that, if a woman has a history of multiple sex partners, the likelihood of her having a secondary sex partner during a current relationship greatly increases. It seems that personality tendencies and sexual habits are the main factors here. These findings do not reject the value of the search for The One, but rather suggests that this person, once found, might not be all alone.

Despite these kinds of caveats, when it comes of finding The One, strategy counts, starting with the very definition of ‘perfect’. One dictionary definition is flawless: being entirely without fault or defect. The other is most suitable: being as good as possible, and completely appropriate. While the first meaning focuses on eliminating the negative, the second centres on finding as much positive as one can.

Clearly, the search for the flawless person is an exercise in utter futility. Through this lens, the beloved is seen as a kind of icon, without relation to the partner. Here, one looks at qualities that stand on their own, such as intelligence, appearance, humour or wealth. This sort of measure has two advantages – it is easy to use, and most people would agree about the assessments. It’s an approach that takes a static view, in which romantic love is essentially fixed – and that’s something we know doesn’t work well in the real world.

On the other hand, looking for the most suitable person under a given set of circumstances might allow you to build an intimate connection, and could yield a flourishing partnership. This view emphasises the uniqueness of the relationship; it sees the beloved’s most important qualities in relationship to the partner, and offers a dynamic kind of romantic love over time. Such love involves intrinsic development that includes bringing out the best in each other. The suitability scale is much more complex, since it depends on personal and environmental factors about which we do not have full knowledge.

The view is supported by the philosopher Iddo Landau of the University of Haifa in Israel and the author of Finding Meaning in an Imperfect World(2017). He distinguishes between two life strategies: aspiring to be the best, and aspiring to improve. The first can lead us down an endless, unproductive path of frustrated competition, while the second brings meaningful development over time. The same type of distinction applies to romantic love. If romantic meaning mainly concerns achieving the best, lovers will always be restless, consumed with concern about missing the perfect person, or perhaps the younger, the richer or the more beautiful one. If, however, romantic flourishing mainly involves improvement, achieving it lies much more in our hands.

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(Great article in Quartz on how social media can play an important role in national ,and even global, constructive discussion on pressing issues by better moderating the Trending News and separating real from conspiratorial manipulated content. The good news is that the social media has the tools to do it by adjusting its algorithms and flagging questionable content. f. sheikh)

This week Jürgen Habermas, one of the world’s most famous living philosophers, turned 90. A week before, Congress hosted yet another hearing investigating tech platforms Facebook, Google, Amazon, and Apple.

What does one event have to do with the other?

In 2006, long before social media echo chambers were a worldwide phenomenon, Habermas warned that “the rise of millions of fragmented chat rooms across the world” would lead to “a huge number of isolated issue publics”—micro public spheres that threaten the shared national conversations that are essential to democracy.

Habermas’s philosophies and the antitrust investigations both point to a fundamental issue we face today: the concept of a public sphere, and what tech companies and the government can and should do to protect democracy.

Facebook, like Twitter and Google, represents the modern version of the public sphere that Habermas and other democracy theorists have called for. With more of our lives lived online, we’ve stopped prioritizing physical spaces, and therefore lost shared spaces spaces for public discourse.

The internet has largely satisfied a human desire for connection, but it doesn’t necessarily cultivate a democratic exchange of information.

Democratic discourse depends on a shared understanding of what matters, what the facts are, and which sources and speakers are reliable.

Trend setting

Before its untimely dismissal, Facebook’s “Trending” feature lived in the small white box on the upper right-hand corner of your home page, allegedly listing the news stories most widely shared and discussed across Facebook’s ecosystem.

Although problematic in its application, this tool had the potential for an entirely citizen-driven solution to an age-old problem of the public sphere: determining what issues deserve our attention, and how much of it.

Features like Trending in theory help support and maintain the social media space as a venue for public conversation in democratic discourse—if platforms can stick to implementing them the way they were initially advertised.

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