‘Wise Man’, Sapiens, A Brief History of Humankind – Dr Yuval Noah Harari.

Just 6 million years ago, a single female ape had two daughters. One became the ancestor of all chimpanzees, the other is our own grandmother.

From about 2 million years ago until around 10,000 years ago, the world was home, at one and the same time, to several human species. And why not? Today there are many species of foxes, bears and pigs. The earth of a hundred millennia ago was walked by at least six different species of man. It’s our current exclusivity, not that multi-species past, that is peculiar and perhaps incriminating.

It is unsettling and perhaps thrilling to think that we Sapiens could at one time have sex with an animal from a different species, and produce children together. Tolerance is not a Sapiens trademark. As we will see, we Sapiens have good reasons to repress the memory of our siblings.

Sapiens can cooperate in extremely flexible ways with countless numbers of strangers. That’s why Sapiens rule the world, whereas ants eat our leftovers and chimps are locked up in zoos and research laboratories.

100,000 years ago, at least six human species inhabited the earth. Today there is just one.

Us, Homo sapiens.

How did our species succeed in the battle for dominance? Why did our foraging ancestors come together to create cities and kingdoms? How did we come to believe in gods, nations and human rights; to trust money, books and laws; and to be enslaved by bureaucracy, consumerism and the pursuit of happiness? And what will our world be like in the millennia to come?

Bold, wide-ranging and provocative, Sapiens challenges everything we thought we knew about being human: our beliefs, our actions, our power and our future.

About the Author

“I encourage all of us, whatever our beliefs, to question the basic narratives of our world, to connect past developments with present concerns, and not to be afraid of controversial issues.”

Dr Yuval Noah Harari has a PhD in History from the University of Oxford and now lectures at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, specialising in World History. His research focuses on broad questions, such as:

What is the relation between history and biology? Is there justice in history? Did people become happier as history unfolded?

65,000 people have signed up to Harari’s online course, A Brief History of Humankind. Sapiens is an international bestseller and is published in more than 20 languages worldwide. In 2012 Harari was awarded the annual Polonsky Prize for Creativity and Originality in the Humanistic Disciplines.

PART ONE

The Cognitive Revolution

1. An Animal of No Significance

ABOUT 13.5 BILLION YEARS ago, matter, energy, time and space came into being in what is known as the Big Bang. The story of these fundamental features of our universe is called physics.

About 300,000 years after their appearance, matter and energy started to coalesce into complex structures, called atoms, which then combined into molecules. The story of atoms, molecules and their interactions is called chemistry.

About 3.8 billion years ago, on a planet called Earth, certain molecules combined to form particularly large and intricate structures called organisms. The story of organisms is called biology.

About 70,000 years ago, organisms belonging to the species Homo sapiens started to form even more elaborate structures called cultures. The subsequent development of these human cultures is called history.

Three important revolutions shaped the course of history: the Cognitive Revolution kick-started history about 70,000 years ago. The Agricultural Revolution sped it up about 12,000 years ago. The Scientific Revolution, which got under way only 500 years ago, may well end history and start something completely different.

This book tells the story of how these three revolutions have affected humans and their fellow organisms.

There were humans long before there was history. Animals much like modern humans first appeared about 2.5 million years ago. But for countless generations they did not stand out from the myriad other organisms with which they shared their habitats.

On a hike in East Africa 2 million years ago, you might well have encountered a familiar cast of human characters: anxious mothers cuddling their babies and clutches of carefree children playing in the mud; temperamental youths chafing against the dictates of society and weary elders who just wanted to be left in peace; chest-thumping machos trying to impress the local beauty and wise old matriarchs who had already seen it all. These archaic humans loved, played, formed close friendships and competed for status and power but so did chimpanzees, baboons and elephants. There was nothing special about humans. Nobody, least of all humans themselves, had any inkling that their descendants would one day walk on the moon, split the atom, fathom the genetic code and write history books. The most important thing to know about prehistoric humans is that they were insignificant animals with no more impact on their environment than gorillas, fireflies or jellyfish.

Biologists classify organisms into species. Animals are said to belong to the same species if they tend to mate with each other, giving birth to fertile offspring. Horses and donkeys have a recent common ancestor and share many physical traits. But they show little sexual interest in one another. They will mate if induced to do so but their offspring, called mules, are sterile. Mutations in donkey DNA can therefore never cross over to horses, or vice versa. The two types of animals are consequently considered two distinct species, moving along separate evolutionary paths. By contrast, a bulldog and a spaniel may look very different, but they are members of the same species, sharing the same DNA pool. They will happily mate and their puppies will grow up to pair off with other dogs and produce more puppies.

Species that evolved from a common ancestor are bunched together under the heading ‘genus’ (plural genera). Lions, tigers, leopards and jaguars are different species within the genus Panthera. Biologists label organisms with a two-part Latin name, genus followed by species. Lions, for example, are called Panthera Leo, the species leo of the genus Panthera. Presumably, everyone reading this book is a Homo sapiens the species sapiens (wise) of the genus Homo (man).

Genera in their turn are grouped into families, such as the cats (lions, Cheetahs, house cats), the dogs (wolves, foxes, jackals) and the elephants (elephants, mammoths, mastodons). All members of a family trace their lineage back to a founding matriarch or patriarch. All cats, for example, from the smallest house kitten to the most ferocious lion, share a common feline ancestor who lived about 25 million years ago.

Homo sapiens, too, belongs to a family. This banal fact used to be one of history’s most closely guarded secrets. Homo sapiens long preferred to view itself as set apart from animals, an orphan bereft of family, lacking siblings or cousins, and, most importantly, without parents. But that’s just not the case. Like it or not, we are members of a large and particularly noisy family called the great apes. Our closest living relatives include chimpanzees, gorillas and orangutans. The chimpanzees are the closest. Just 6 million years ago, a single female ape had two daughters. One became the ancestor of all chimpanzees, the other is our own grandmother.

Skeletons in the Closet

Homo sapiens has kept hidden an even more disturbing secret. Not only do we possess an abundance of uncivilised cousins, once upon a time we had quite a few brothers and sisters as well. We are used to thinking about ourselves as the only humans, because for the last 10,000 years, our species has indeed been the only human species around. Yet the real meaning of the word human is ‘an animal belonging to the genus Homo’, and there used to be many other species of this genus besides Homo sapiens. Moreover, as we shall see in the last chapter of the book, in the not-so-distant future we might again have to contend with non-sapiens humans. To clarify this point, I will often use the term ‘Sapiens’ to denote members of the species Homo sapiens, while reserving the term ‘human’ to refer to all extant members of the genus Homo.

Humans first evolved in East Africa about 2.5 million years ago from an earlier genus of apes called Australopithecus, which means ‘Southern Ape’. About 2 million years ago, some of these archaic men and women left their homeland to journey through and settle vast areas of North Africa, Europe and Asia. Since survival in the snowy forests of northern Europe required different traits than those needed to stay alive in Indonesia’s steaming jungles, human populations evolved in different directions. The result was several distinct species, to each of which scientists have assigned a pompous Latin name.

Humans in Europe and western Asia evolved into Homo neanderthalensis (‘Man from the Neander Valley’), popularly referred to simply as ‘Neanderthals’. Neanderthals, bulkier and more muscular than us Sapiens, were well adapted to the cold climate of Ice Age western Eurasia. The more eastern regions of Asia were populated by Homo erectus, ‘Upright Man’, who survived there for close to 2 million years, making it the most durable human species ever. This record is unlikely to be broken even by our own species. It is doubtful whether Homo sapiens will still be around a thousand years from now, so 2 million years is really out of our league.

On the island of Java, in Indonesia, lived Homo soloensis, ‘Man from the Solo Valley’, who was suited to life in the tropics. On another Indonesian island the small island of Flores archaic humans underwent a process of dwarfing. Humans first reached Flores when the sea level was exceptionally low, and the island was easily accessible from the mainland. When the seas rose again, some people were trapped on the island, which was poor in resources. Big people, who need a lot of food, died first. Smaller fellows survived much better. Over the generations, the people of Flores became dwarves. This unique species, known by scientists as Homo floresiensis, reached a maximum height of only one metre and weighed no more than twenty-five kilograms. They were nevertheless able to produce stone tools, and even managed occasionally to hunt down some of the island’s elephants though, to be fair, the elephants were a dwarf species as well.

In 2010 another lost sibling was rescued from oblivion, when scientists excavating the Denisova Cave in Siberia discovered a fossilised finger bone. Genetic analysis proved that the finger belonged to a previously unknown human species, which was named Homo denisova. Who knows how many lost relatives of ours are waiting to be discovered in other caves, on other islands, and in other climes?

While these humans were evolving in Europe and Asia, evolution in East Africa did not stop. The cradle of humanity continued to nurture numerous new Species, such as Homo rudolfensis, ‘Man from Lake Rudolf’, Homo ergaster, ‘Working Man’, and eventually our own species, which we’ve immodestly named Homo sapiens, ‘Wise Man’.

The members of some of these species were massive and others were dwarves. Some were fearsome hunters and others meek plant-gatherers. Some lived only on a single island, while many roamed over continents. But all of them belonged to the genus Homo. They were all human beings.

It’s a common fallacy to envision these species as arranged in a straight line of descent, with Ergaster begetting Erectus, Erectus begetting the Neanderthals, and the Neanderthals evolving into us. This linear model gives the mistaken impression that at any particular moment only one type of human inhabited the earth, and that all earlier species were merely older models of ourselves.

The truth is that from about 2 million years ago until around 10,000 years ago, the world was home, at one and the same time, to several human species. And why not? Today there are many species of foxes, bears and pigs. The earth of a hundred millennia ago was walked by at least six different species of man. It’s our current exclusivity, not that multi-species past, that is peculiar and perhaps incriminating. As we will shortly see, we Sapiens have good reasons to repress the memory of our siblings.

The Cost of Thinking

Despite their many differences, all human species share several defining characteristics. Most notably, humans have extraordinarily large brains compared to other animals. Mammals weighing sixty kilograms have an average brain size of 200 cubic centimetres. The earliest men and women, 2.5 million years ago, had brains of about 600 cubic centimetres. Modern Sapiens sport a brain averaging 1,200-1,400 cubic centimetres. Neanderthal brains were even bigger.

That evolution should select for larger brains may seem to us like, well, a no-brainer. We are so enamoured of our high intelligence that we assume that when it comes to cerebral power, more must be better. But if that were the case, the feline family would also have produced cats who could do calculus, and frogs would by now have launched their own space programme. Why are giant brains so rare in the animal kingdom?

The fact is that a jumbo brain is a jumbo drain on the body. It’s not easy to carry around, especially when encased inside a massive skull. It’s even harder to fuel. In Homo sapiens, the brain accounts for about 2-3 per cent of total body weight, but it consumes 25 per cent of the body’s energy when the body is at rest. By comparison, the brains of other apes require only 8 per cent of rest-time energy.

Archaic humans paid for their large brains in two ways. Firstly, they spent more time in search of food. Secondly, their muscles atrophied. Like a government diverting money from defence to education, humans diverted energy from biceps to neurons. It’s hardly a foregone conclusion that this is a good strategy for survival on the savannah. A chimpanzee can’t win an argument with a Homo sapiens, but the ape can rip the man apart like a rag doll.

Today our big brains pay off nicely, because we can produce cars and guns that enable us to move much faster than chimps, and shoot them from a safe distance instead of wrestling. But cars and guns are a recent phenomenon. For more than 2 million years, human neural networks kept growing and growing, but apart from some flint knives and pointed sticks, humans had precious little to show for it.

What then drove forward the evolution of the massive human brain during those 2 million years? Frankly, we don’t know.

Another singular human trait is that we walk upright on two legs. Standing up, it’s easier to scan the savannah for game or enemies, and arms that are unnecessary for locomotion are freed for other purposes, like throwing stones or signalling. The more things these hands could do, the more successful their owners were, so evolutionary pressure brought about an increasing concentration of nerves and finely tuned muscles in the palms and fingers. As a result, humans can perform very intricate tasks with their hands. In particular, they can produce and use sophisticated tools. The first evidence for tool production dates from about 2.5 million years ago, and the manufacture and use of tools are the criteria by which archaeologists recognise ancient humans.

Yet walking upright has its downside. The skeleton of our primate ancestors developed for millions of years to support a creature that walked on all fours and had a relatively small head. Adjusting to an upright position was quite a challenge, especially when the scaffolding had to support an extra-large cranium. Humankind paid for its lofty vision and industrious hands with backaches and stiff necks.

Women paid extra. An upright gait required narrower hips, constricting the birth canal and this just when babies’ heads were getting bigger and bigger. Death in childbirth became a major hazard for human females. Women who gave birth earlier, when the infant’s brain and head were still relatively small and supple, fared better and lived to have more children. Natural selection consequently favoured earlier births. And, indeed, compared to other animals, humans are born prematurely, when many of their vital systems are still underdeveloped. A colt can trot shortly after birth; a kitten leaves its mother to forage on its own when it is just a few weeks old. Human babies are helpless, dependent for many years on their elders for sustenance, protection and education.

This fact has contributed greatly both to humankind’s extraordinary social abilities and to its unique social problems. Lone mothers could hardly forage enough food for their offspring and themselves with needy children in tow. Raising children required constant help from other family members and neighbours.

It takes a tribe to raise a human. Evolution thus favoured those capable of forming strong social ties.

In addition, since humans are born underdeveloped, they can be educated and socialised to a far greater extent than any other animal. Most mammals emerge from the womb like glazed earthenware emerging from a kiln, any attempt at remoulding will only scratch or break them. Humans emerge from the womb like molten glass from a furnace. They can be spun, stretched and shaped with a surprising degree of freedom. This is why today we can educate our children to become Christian or Buddhist, capitalist or socialist, warlike or peace-loving.

We assume that a large brain, the use of tools, superior learning abilities and complex social structures are huge advantages. It seems selfevident that these have made humankind the most powerful animal on earth. But humans enjoyed all of these advantages for a full 2 million years during which they remained weak and marginal creatures. Thus humans who lived a million years ago, despite their big brains and sharp stone tools, dwelt in constant fear of predators, rarely hunted large game, and subsisted mainly by gathering plants, scooping up insects, stalking small animals, and eating the carrion left behind by other more powerful carnivores.

One of the most common uses of early stone tools was to crack open bones in order to get to the marrow. Some researchers believe this was our original niche. Just as woodpeckers specialise in extracting insects from the trunks of trees, the first humans specialised in extracting marrow from bones. Why marrow? Well, suppose you observe a pride of lions take down and devour a giraffe. You wait patiently until they’re done. But it’s still not your turn because first the hyenas and jackals and you don’t dare interfere with them scavenge the leftovers. Only then would you and your band dare approach the carcass, look cautiously left and right and dig into the edible tissue that remained.

This is a key to understanding our history and psychology. Genus Homo’s position in the food chain was, until quite recently, solidly in the middle. For millions of years, humans hunted smaller creatures and gathered what they could, all the while being hunted by larger predators. It was only 400,000 years ago that several species of man began to hunt large game on a regular basis, and only in the last 100,000 years with the rise of Homo sapiens that man jumped to the top of the food chain.

That spectacular leap from the middle to the top had enormous consequences. Other animals at the top of the pyramid, such as lions and sharks, evolved into that position very gradually, over millions of years. This enabled the ecosystem to develop checks and balances that prevent lions and sharks from wreaking too much havoc. As lions became deadlier, so gazelles evolved to run faster, hyenas to cooperate better, and rhinoceroses to be more badtempered. In contrast, humankind ascended to the top so quickly that the ecosystem was not given time to adjust. Moreover, humans themselves failed to adjust. Most top predators of the planet are majestic creatures. Millions of years of dominion have filled them with self-confidence. Sapiens by contrast is more like a banana-republic dictator. Having so recently been one of the underdogs of the savannah, we are full of fears and anxieties over our position, which makes us doubly cruel and dangerous. Many historical calamities, from deadly wars to ecological catastrophes, have resulted from this over-hasty jump.

A Race of Cooks

A significant step on the way to the top was the domestication of fire. Some human species may have made occasional use of fire as early as 800,000 years ago. By about 300,000 years ago, Homo erectus, Neanderthals and the forefathers of Homo sapiens were using fire on a daily basis. Humans now had a dependable source of light and warmth, and a deadly weapon against prowling lions. Not long aftenwards, humans may even have started deliberately to torch their neighbourhoods. A carefully managed fire could turn impassable barren thickets into prime grasslands teeming with game. In addition, once the fire died down, Stone Age entrepreneurs could walk through the smoking remains and harvest charcoaled animals, nuts and tubers.

But the best thing fire did was cook. Foods that humans cannot digest in their natural forms such as wheat, rice and potatoes became staples of our diet thanks to cooking. Fire not only changed food’s chemistry, it changed its biology as well. Cooking killed germs and parasites that infested food. Humans also had a far easier time chewing and digesting old favourites such as fruits, nuts, insects and carrion if they were cooked. Whereas chimpanzees spend five hours a day chewing raw food, a single hour suffices for people eating cooked food.

The advent of cooking enabled humans to eat more kinds of food, to devote less time to eating, and to make do with smaller teeth and shorter intestines. Some scholars believe there is a direct link between the advent of cooking, the shortening of the human intestinal tract, and the growth of the human brain. Since long intestines and large brains are both massive energy consumers, it’s hard to have both. By shortening the intestines and decreasing their energy consumption, cooking inadvertently opened the way to the jumbo brains of Neanderthals and Sapiens.

Fire also opened the first significant gulf between man and the other animals. The power of almost all animals depends on their bodies: the strength of their muscles, the size of their teeth, the breadth of their wings. Though they may harness winds and currents, they are unable to control these natural forces, and are always constrained by their physical design. Eagles, for example, identify thermal columns rising from the ground, spread their giant wings and allow the hot air to lift them upwards. Yet eagles cannot control the location of the columns, and their maximum carrying capacity is strictly proportional to their wingspan.

When humans domesticated fire, they gained control of an obedient and potentially limitless force. Unlike eagles, humans could choose when and where to ignite a flame, and they were able to exploit fire for any number of tasks. Most importantly, the power of fire was not limited by the form, structure or strength of the human body. A single woman with a flint or fire stick could burn down an entire forest in a matter of hours. The domestication of fire was a sign of things to come.

Our Brothers’ Keepers

Despite the benefits of fire, 150,000 years ago humans were still marginal creatures. They could now scare away lions, warm themselves during cold nights, and burn down the occasional forest. Yet counting all species together, there were still no more than perhaps a million humans living between the Indonesian archipelago and the Iberian peninsula, a mere blip on the ecological radar.

Our own species, Homo sapiens, was already present on the world stage, but so far it was just minding its own business in a corner of Africa. We don’t know exactly where and when animals that can be classified as Homo sapiens first evolved from some earlier type of humans, but most scientists agree that by 150,000 years ago, East Africa was populated by Sapiens that looked just like us. If one of them turned up in a modern morgue, the local pathologist would notice nothing peculiar. Thanks to the blessings of fire, they had smaller teeth and jaws than their ancestors, whereas they had massive brains, equal in size to ours.

Scientists also agree that about 70,000 years ago, Sapiens from East Africa spread into the Arabian peninsula, and from there they quickly overran the entire Eurasian landmass.

When Homo sapiens landed in Arabia, most of Eurasia was already settled by other humans. What happened to them? There are two conflicting theories. The ‘Interbreeding Theory’ tells a story of attraction, sex and mingling. As the African immigrants spread around the world, they bred with other human populations, and people today are the outcome of this interbreeding.

For example, when Sapiens reached the Middle East and Europe, they encountered the Neanderthals. These humans were more muscular than Sapiens, had larger brains, and were better adapted to cold climes. They used tools and fire, were good hunters, and apparently took care of their sick and infirm. (Archaeologists have discovered the bones of Neanderthals who lived for many years with severe physical handicaps, evidence that they were cared for by their relatives.) Neanderthals are often depicted in caricatures as the archetypical brutish and stupid ‘cave people’, but recent evidence has changed their image.

According to the Interbreeding Theory, when Sapiens spread into Neanderthal lands, Sapiens bred with Neanderthals until the two populations merged. If this is the case, then today’s Eurasians are not pure Sapiens. They are a mixture of Sapiens and Neanderthals. Similarly, when Sapiens reached East Asia, they interbred with the local Erectus, so the Chinese and Koreans are a mixture of Sapiens and Erectus.

The opposing view, called the ‘Replacement Theory’ tells a very different story, one of incompatibility, revulsion, and perhaps even genocide. According to this theory, Sapiens and other humans had different anatomies, and most likely different mating habits and even body odours. They would have had little sexual interest in one another. And even if a Neanderthal Romeo and a Sapiens Juliet fell in love, they could not produce fertile children, because the genetic gulf separating the two populations was already unbridgeable. The two populations remained completely distinct, and when the Neanderthals died out, or were killed off, their genes died with them. According to this view, Sapiens replaced all the previous human populations without merging with them. If that is the case, the lineages of all contemporary humans can be traced back, exclusively, to East Africa, 70,000 years ago. We are all ‘pure Sapiens’.

A lot hinges on this debate. From an evolutionary perspective, 70,000 years is a relatively short interval. If the Replacement Theory is correct, all living humans have roughly the same genetic baggage, and racial distinctions among them are negligible. But if the Interbreeding Theory is right, there might well be genetic differences between Africans, Europeans and Asians that go back hundreds of thousands of years. This is political dynamite, which could provide material for explosive racial theories.

In recent decades the Replacement Theory has been the common wisdom in the field. It had firmer archaeological backing, and was more politically correct (scientists had no desire to open up the Pandora’s box of racism by claiming significant genetic diversity among modern human populations). But that ended in 2010, when the results of a four-year effort to map the Neanderthal genome were published. Geneticists were able to collect enough intact Neanderthal DNA from fossils to make a broad comparison between it and the DNA of contemporary humans. The results stunned the scientific community.

It turned out that 1-4 per cent of the unique human DNA of modern populations in the Middle East and Europe is Neanderthal DNA. That’s not a huge amount, but it’s significant. A second shock came several months later, when DNA extracted from the fossilised finger from Denisova was mapped. The results proved that up to 6 per cent of the unique human DNA of modern Melanesians and Aboriginal Australians is Denisovan DNA.

If these results are valid, and it’s important to keep in mind that further research is under way and may either reinforce or modify these conclusions, the Interbreeders got at least some things right. But that doesn’t mean that the Replacement Theory is completely wrong. Since Neanderthals and Denisovans contributed only a small amount of DNA to our present-day genome, it is impossible to speak of a ‘merger’ between Sapiens and other human species. Although differences between them were not large enough to completely prevent fertile intercourse, they were sufficient to make such contacts very rare.

How then should we understand the biological relatedness of Sapiens, Neanderthals and Denisovans? Clearly, they were not completely different species like horses and donkeys. On the other hand, they were not just different populations of the same species, like bulldogs and spaniels. Biological reality is not black and white. There are also important grey areas. Every two species that evolved from a common ancestor, such as horses and donkeys, were at one time just two populations of the same species, like bulldogs and spaniels. There must have been a point when the two populations were already quite different from one another, but still capable on rare occasions of having sex and producing fertile offspring. Then another mutation severed this last connecting thread, and they went their separate evolutionary ways.

It seems that about 50,000 years ago, Sapiens, Neanderthals and Denisovans were at that borderline point. They were almost, but not quite, entirely separate species. As we shall see in the next chapter, Sapiens were already very different from Neanderthals and Denisovans, not only in their genetic code and physical traits, but also in their cognitive and social abilities, yet it appears it was still just possible, on rare occasions, for a Sapiens and a Neanderthal to produce a fertile offspring. So the populations did not merge, but a few lucky Neanderthal genes did hitch a ride on the Sapiens Express.

It is unsettling and perhaps thrilling to think that we Sapiens could at one time have sex with an animal from a different species, and produce children together.

But if the Neanderthals, Denisovans and other human species didn’t merge with Sapiens, why did they vanish? One possibility is that Homo sapiens drove them to extinction. Imagine a Sapiens band reaching a Balkan valley where Neanderthals had lived for hundreds of thousands of years. The newcomers began to hunt the deer and gather the nuts and berries that were the Neanderthals’ traditional staples. Sapiens were more proficient hunters and gatherers thanks to better technology and superior social skills so they multiplied and spread. The less resourceful Neanderthals found it increasingly difficult to feed themselves. Their population dwindled and they slowly died out, except perhaps for one or two members who joined their Sapiens neighbours.

Another possibility is that competition for resources flared up into violence and genocide.

Tolerance is not a Sapiens trademark. In modern times, a small difference in skin colour, dialect or religion has been enough to prompt one group of Sapiens to set about exterminating another group. Would ancient Sapiens have been more tolerant towards an entirely different human species? It may well be that when Sapiens encountered Neanderthals, the result was the first and most significant ethnic-cleansing campaign in history.

Whichever way it happened, the Neanderthals, and the other human species, pose one of history’s great what ifs. Imagine how things might have turned out had the Neanderthals or Denisovans survived alongside Homo sapiens. What kind of cultures, societies and political structures would have emerged in a world where several different human species coexisted? How, for example, would religious faiths have unfolded? Would the book of Genesis have declared that Neanderthals descend from Adam and Eve, would Jesus have died for the sins of the Denisovans, and would the Qur’an have reserved seats in heaven for all righteous humans, whatever their species? Would Neanderthals have been able to serve in the Roman legions, or in the sprawling bureaucracy of imperial China? Would the American Declaration of Independence hold as a self-evident truth that all members of the genus Homo are created equal? Would Karl Marx have urged workers of all species to unite?

Over the past 10,000 years, Homo sapiens has grown so accustomed to being the only human species that it’s hard for us to conceive of any other possibility. Our lack of brothers and sisters makes it easier to imagine that we are the epitome of creation, and that a chasm separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom.

When Charles Darwin indicated that Homo sapiens was just another kind of animal, people were outraged. Even today many refuse to believe it. Had the Neanderthals survived, would we still imagine ourselves to be a creature apart? Perhaps this is exactly why our ancestors wiped out the Neanderthals. They were too familiar to ignore, but too different to tolerate.

Whether Sapiens are to blame or not, no sooner had they arrived at a new location than the native population became extinct. The last remains of Homo soloensis are dated to about 50,000 years ago. Homo denisova disappeared shortly thereafter. Neanderthals made their exit roughly 30,000 years ago. The last dwarf-like humans vanished from Flores Island about 12,000 years ago. They left behind some bones, stone tools, a few genes in our DNA and a lot of unanswered questions. They also left behind us, Homo sapiens, the last human specks.

What was the Sapiens’ secret of success? How did we manage to settle so rapidly in so many distant and ecologically different habitats? How did we push all other human species into oblivion? Why couldn’t even the strong, brainy, cold-proof Neanderthals survive our onslaught? The debate continues to rage. The most likely answer is the very thing that makes the debate possible: Homo sapiens conquered the world thanks above all to its unique language.

2. The Tree of Knowledge

IN THE PREVIOUS chapter we saw that although Sapiens had already populated East Africa 150,000 years ago, they began to overrun the rest of planet Earth and drive the other human species to extinction only about 70,000 years ago. In the intervening millennia, even though these archaic Sapiens looked just like us and their brains were as big as ours, they did not enjoy any marked advantage over other human species, did not produce particularly sophisticated tools, and did not accomplish any other special feats.

In fact, in the first recorded encounter between Sapiens and Neanderthals, the Neanderthals won. About 100,000 years ago, some Sapiens groups migrated north to the Levant, which was Neanderthal territory, but failed to secure a firm footing. It might have been due to nasty natives, an inclement climate, or unfamiliar local parasites. Whatever the reason, the Sapiens eventually retreated, leaving the Neanderthals as masters of the Middle East.

This poor record of achievement has led scholars to speculate that the internal structure of the brains of these Sapiens was probably different from ours. They looked like us, but their cognitive abilities, learning, remembering, communicating were far more limited. Teaching such an ancient Sapiens English, persuading him of the truth of Christian dogma, or getting him to understand the theory of evolution would probably have been hopeless undertakings. Conversely, we would have had a very hard time learning his language and understanding his way of thinking.

But then, beginning about 70,000 years ago, Homo sapiens started doing very special things. Around that date Sapiens bands left Africa for a second time. This time they drove the Neanderthals and all other human species not only from the Middle East, but from the face of the earth. Within a remarkably short period, Sapiens reached Europe and East Asia. About 45,000 years ago, they somehow crossed the open sea and landed in Australia a continent hitherto untouched by humans. The period from about 70,000 years ago to about 30,000 years ago witnessed the invention of boats, oil lamps, bows and arrows and needles (essential for sewing warm clothing). The first objects that can reliably be called art date from this era (see the Stadel lion-man hem), as does the first clear evidence for religion, commerce and social stratification.

Most researchers believe that these unprecedented accomplishments were the product of a revolution in Sapiens’ cognitive abilities. They maintain that the people who drove the Neanderthals to extinction, settled Australia, and carved the Stadel lion-man were as intelligent, creative and sensitive as we are. If we were to come across the artists of the Stadel Cave, we could learn their language and they ours. We’d be able to explain to them everything we know from the adventures of Alice in Wonderland to the paradoxes of quantum physics and they could teach us how their people view the world.

The Cognitive Revolution

The appearance of new ways of thinking and communicating, between 70,000 and 30,000 years ago, constitutes the Cognitive Revolution. What caused it? We’re not sure. The most commonly believed theory argues that accidental genetic mutations changed the inner wiring of the brains of Sapiens, enabling them to think in unprecedented ways and to communicate using an altogether new type of language. We might call it the Tree of Knowledge mutation.

Why did it occur in Sapiens DNA rather than in that of Neanderthals? It was a matter of pure chance, as far as we can tell. But it’s more important to understand the consequences of the Tree of Knowledge mutation than its causes. What was so special about the new Sapiens language that it enabled us to conquer the world?

It was not the first language. Every animal has some kind of language. Even insects, such as bees and ants, know how to communicate in sophisticated ways, informing one another of the whereabouts of food. Neither was it the first vocal language. Many animals, including all ape and monkey species, have vocal languages. For example, green monkeys use calls of various kinds to communicate. Zoologists have identified one call that means ‘Careful! An eagle!’ A slightly different call warns ‘Careful! A lion!’ When researchers played a recording of the first call to a group of monkeys, the monkeys stopped what they were doing and looked upwards in fear. When the same group heard a recording of the second call, the lion warning, they quickly scrambled up a tree.

Sapiens can produce many more distinct sounds than green monkeys, but whales and elephants have equally impressive abilities. A parrot can say anything Albert Einstein could say, as well as mimicking the sounds of phones ringing, doors slamming and sirens wailing. Whatever advantage Einstein had over a parrot, it wasn’t vocal. What, then, is so special about our language?

The most common answer is that our language is amazingly supple. We can connect a limited number of sounds and signs to produce an infinite number of sentences, each with a distinct meaning. We can thereby ingest, store and communicate a prodigious amount of information about the surrounding world. A green monkey can yell to its comrades, ‘Careful! A lion!’ But a modern human can tell her friends that this morning, near the bend in the river, she saw a lion tracking a herd of bison. She can then describe the exact location, including the different paths leading to the area. With this information, the members of her band can put their heads together and discuss whether they should approach the river, chase away the lion, and hunt the bison.

A second theory agrees that our unique language evolved as a means of sharing information about the world. But the most important information that needed to be conveyed was about humans, not about lions and bison. Our language evolved as a way of gossiping.

According to this theory Homo sapiens is primarily a social animal. Social cooperation is our key for survival and reproduction. It is not enough for individual men and women to know the whereabouts of lions and bison. It’s much more important for them to know who in their band hates whom, who is sleeping with whom, who is honest, and who is a cheat.

The amount of information that one must obtain and store in order to track the ever-changing relationships of even a few dozen individuals is staggering. (In a band of fifty individuals, there are 1,225 one-on-one relationships, and countless more complex social combinations.) All apes show a keen interest in such social information, but they have trouble gossiping effectively.

Neanderthals and archaic Homo sapiens probably also had a hard time talking behind each other’s backs, a much maligned ability which is in fact essential for cooperation in large numbers. The new linguistic skills that modern Sapiens acquired about seventy millennia ago enabled them to gossip for hours on end. Reliable information about who could be trusted meant that small bands could expand into larger bands, and Sapiens could develop tighter and more sophisticated types of cooperation.

The gossip theory might sound like a joke, but numerous studies support it. Even today the vast majority of human communication whether in the form of emails, phone calls or newspaper columns is gossip. It comes so naturally to us that it seems as if our language evolved for this very purpose. Do you think that history professors chat about the reasons for the First World War when they meet for lunch, or that nuclear physicists spend their coffee breaks at scientific conferences talking about quarks? Sometimes. But more often, they gossip about the professor who caught her husband cheating, or the quarrel between the head of the department and the dean, or the rumours that a colleague used his research funds to buy a Lexus. Gossip usually focuses on wrongdoings. Rumour-mongers are the original fourth estate, journalists who inform society about and thus protect it from cheats and freeloaders.

Most likely, both the gossip theory and the there-is-a-lion-near-the-river theory are valid. Yet the truly unique feature of our language is not its ability to transmit information about men and lions. Rather, it’s the ability to transmit information about things that do not exist at all.

As far as we know, only Sapiens can talk about entire kinds of entities that they have never seen, touched or smelled.

Legends, myths, gods and religions appeared for the first time with the Cognitive Revolution. Many animals and human species could previously say, ‘Careful! A lion!’ Thanks to the Cognitive Revolution, Homo sapiens acquired the ability to say, ‘The lion is the guardian spirit of our tribe.’ This ability to speak about fictions is the most unique feature of Sapiens language.

It’s relatively easy to agree that only Homo sapiens can speak about things that don’t really exist, and believe six impossible things before breakfast. You could never convince a monkey to give you a banana by promising him limitless bananas after death in monkey heaven. But why is it important? After all, fiction can be dangerously misleading or distracting.

People who go to the forest looking for fairies and unicorns would seem to have less chance of survival than people who go looking for mushrooms and deer. And if you spend hours praying to non-existing guardian spirits, aren’t you wasting precious time, time better spent foraging, fighting and fornicating?

But fiction has enabled us not merely to imagine things, but to do so collectively. We can weave common myths such as the biblical creation story, the Dreamtime myths of Aboriginal Australians, and the nationalist myths of modern states. Such myths give Sapiens the unprecedented ability to cooperate flexibly in large numbers. Ants and bees can also work together in huge numbers, but they do so in a very rigid manner and only with close relatives. Wolves and chimpanzees cooperate far more flexibly than ants, but they can do so only with small numbers of other individuals that they know intimately.

Sapiens can cooperate in extremely flexible ways with countless numbers of strangers. That’s why Sapiens rule the world, whereas ants eat our leftovers and chimps are locked up in zoos and research laboratories.

The Legend of Peugeot

Our chimpanzee cousins usually live in small troops of several dozen individuals. They form close friendships, hunt together and fight shoulder to shoulder against baboons, Cheetahs and enemy chimpanzees. Their social structure tends to be hierarchical. The dominant member, who is almost always a male, is termed the ‘alpha male’. Other males and females exhibit their submission to the alpha male by bowing before him while making grunting sounds, not unlike human subjects kowtowing before a king. The alpha male strives to maintain social harmony within his troop. When two individuals fight, he will intervene and stop the violence. Less benevolently, he might monopolise particularly coveted foods and prevent lower-ranking males from mating with the females.

When two males are contesting the alpha position, they usually do so by forming extensive coalitions of supporters, both male and female, from within the group. Ties between coalition members are based on intimate daily contact hugging, touching, kissing, grooming and mutual favours. Just as human politicians on election campaigns go around shaking hands and kissing babies, so aspirants to the top position in a chimpanzee group spend much time hugging, back-slapping and kissing baby chimps. The alpha male usually wins his position not because he is physically stronger, but because he leads a large and stable coalition. These coalitions play a central part not only during overt struggles for the alpha position, but in almost all day-to-day activities. Members of a coalition spend more time together, share food, and help one another in times of trouble.

There are clear limits to the size of groups that can be formed and maintained in such a way. In order to function, all members of a group must know each other intimately. Two chimpanzees who have never met, never fought, and never engaged in mutual grooming will not know whether they can trust one another, whether it would be worthwhile to help one another, and which of them ranks higher. Under natural conditions, a typical chimpanzee troop consists of about twenty to fifty individuals. As the number of chimpanzees in a troop increases, the social order destabilises, eventually leading to a rupture and the formation of a new troop by some of the animals. Only in a handful of cases have zoologists observed groups larger than a hundred. Separate groups seldom cooperate, and tend to compete for territory and food. Researchers have documented prolonged warfare between groups, and even one case of ‘genocidal’ activity in which one troop systematically slaughtered most members of a neighbouring band.

Similar patterns probably dominated the social lives of early humans, including archaic Homo sapiens. Humans, like chimps, have social instincts that enabled our ancestors to form friendships and hierarchies, and to hunt or fight together. However, like the social instincts of chimps, those of humans were adapted only for small intimate groups. When the group grew too large, its social order destabilised and the band split. Even if a particularly fertile valley could feed 500 archaic Sapiens, there was no way that so many strangers could live together. How could they agree who should be leader, who should hunt where, or who should mate with whom?

In the wake of the Cognitive Revolution, gossip helped Homo sapiens to form larger and more stable bands. But even gossip has its limits. Sociological research has shown that the maximum ‘natural’ size of a group bonded by gossip is about 150 individuals. Most people can neither intimately know, nor gossip effectively about, more than 150 human beings.

Even today, a critical threshold in human organisations falls somewhere around this magic number. Below this threshold, communities, businesses, social networks and military units can maintain themselves based mainly on intimate acquaintance and rumour-mongering. There is no need for formal ranks, titles and law books to keep order. A platoon of thirty soldiers or even a company of a hundred soldiers can function well on the basis of intimate relations, with a minimum of formal discipline. A well-respected sergeant can become ‘king of the company’ and exercise authority even over commissioned officers. A small family business can survive and flourish without a board of directors, a CEO or an accounting department.

But once the threshold of 150 individuals is crossed, things can no longer work that way. You cannot run a division with thousands of soldiers the same way you run a platoon. Successful family businesses usually face a crisis when they grow larger and hire more personnel. If they cannot reinvent themselves, they go bust.

How did Homo sapiens manage to cross this critical threshold, eventually founding cities comprising tens of thousands of inhabitants and empires ruling hundreds of millions? The secret was probably the appearance of fiction. Large numbers of strangers can cooperate successfully by believing in common myths.

Any large-scale human cooperation whether a modern state, a medieval church, an ancient city or an archaic tribe is rooted in common myths that exist only in people’s collective imagination. Churches are rooted in common religious myths. Two Catholics who have never met can nevertheless go together on crusade or pool funds to build a hospital because they both believe that God was incarnated in human flesh and allowed Himself to be crucified to redeem our sins. States are rooted in common national myths. Two Serbs who have never met might risk their lives to save one another because both believe in the existence of the Serbian nation, the Serbian homeland and the Serbian flag. Judicial systems are rooted in common legal myths. Two lawyers who have never met can nevertheless combine efforts to defend a complete stranger because they both believe in the existence of laws, justice, human rights and the money paid out in fees.

Yet none of these things exists outside the stories that people invent and tell one another. There are no gods in the universe, no nations, no money, no human rights, no laws and no justice outside the common imagination of human beings.

People easily understand that ‘primitives’ cement their social order by believing in ghosts and spirits, and gathering each full moon to dance together around the campfire. What we fail to appreciate is that our modern institutions function on exactly the same basis. Take for example the world of business corporations. Modern businesspeople and lawyers are, in fact, powerful sorcerers. The principal difference between them and tribal shamans is that modern lawyers tell far stranger tales. The legend of Peugeot affords us a good example.

An icon that somewhat resembles the Stadel lion-man appears today on cars, trucks and motorcycles from Paris to Sydney. It’s the hood ornament that adorns vehicles made by Peugeot, one of the oldest and largest of Europe’s carmakers. Peugeot began as a small family business in the village of Valentigney, just 300 kilometres from the Stadel Cave. Today the company employs about 200,000 people worldwide, most of whom are complete strangers to each other. These strangers cooperate so effectively that in 2008 Peugeot produced more than 1.5 million automobiles, earning revenues of about 55 billion euros.

In what sense can we say that Peugeot SA (the company’s official name) exists? There are many Peugeot vehicles, but these are obviously not the company. Even if every Peugeot in the world were simultaneously junked and sold for scrap metal, Peugeot SA would not disappear. It would continue to manufacture new cars and issue its annual report. The company owns factories, machinery and showrooms, and employs mechanics, accountants and secretaries, but all these together do not comprise Peugeot. A disaster might kill every single one of Peugeot’s employees, and go on to destroy all of its assembly lines and executive offices. Even then, the company could borrow money, hire new employees, build new factories and buy new machinery. Peugeot has managers and shareholders, but neither do they constitute the company. All the managers could be dismissed and all its shares sold, but the company itself would remain intact.

It doesn’t mean that Peugeot SA is invulnerable or immortal. If a judge were to mandate the dissolution of the company, its factories would remain standing and its workers, accountants, managers and shareholders would continue to live but Peugeot SA would immediately vanish. In short, Peugeot SA seems to have no essential connection to the physical world. Does it really exist?

Peugeot is a figment of our collective imagination. Lawyers call this a ‘legal fiction’. It can’t be pointed at; it is not a physical object. But it exists as a legal entity. Just like you or me, it is bound by the laws of the countries in which it operates. It can open a bank account and own property. It pays taxes, and it can be sued and even prosecuted separately from any of the people who own or work for it.

Peugeot belongs to a particular genre of legal fictions called ‘limited liability companies’. The idea behind such companies is among humanity’s most ingenious inventions. Homo sapiens lived for untold millennia without them. During most of recorded history property could be owned only by flesh-and-blood humans, the kind that stood on two legs and had big brains. If in thirteenth-century France Jean set up a wagon-manufacturing workshop, he himself was the business. If a wagon he’d made broke down a week after purchase, the disgruntled buyer would have sued Jean personally. If Jean had borrowed 1,000 gold coins to set up his workshop and the business failed, he would have had to repay the loan by selling his private property his house, his cow, his land. He might even have had to sell his children into servitude. If he couldn’t cover the debt, he could be thrown in prison by the state or enslaved by his creditors. He was fully liable, without limit, for all obligations incurred by his workshop.

If you had lived back then, you would probably have thought twice before you opened an enterprise of your own. And indeed this legal situation discouraged entrepreneurship. People were afraid to start new businesses and take economic risks. It hardly seemed worth taking the chance that their families could end up utterly destitute.

This is why people began collectively to imagine the existence of limited liability companies. Such companies were legally independent of the people who set them up, or invested money in them, or managed them. Over the last few centuries such companies have become the main players in the economic arena, and we have grown so used to them that we forget they exist only in our imagination. In the US, the technical term for a limited liability company is a ‘corporation’, which is ironic, because the term derives from ‘corpus’ (‘body’ in Latin) the one thing these corporations lack. Despite their having no real bodies, the American legal system treats corporations as legal persons, as if they were flesh-and-blood human beings.

And so did the French legal system back in 1896, when Armand Peugeot, who had inherited from his parents a metalworking shop that produced springs, saws and bicycles, decided to go into the automobile business. To that end, he set up a limited liability company. He named the company after himself, but it was independent of him. If one of the cars broke down, the buyer could sue Peugeot, but not Armand Peugeot. If the company borrowed millions of francs and then went bust, Armand Peugeot did not owe its creditors a single franc. The loan, after all, had been given to Peugeot, the company, not to Armand Peugeot, the Homo sapiens. Armand Peugeot died in 1915. Peugeot, the company, is still alive and well.

How exactly did Armand Peugeot, the man, create Peugeot, the company? In much the same way that priests and sorcerers have created gods and demons throughout history, and in which thousands of French curés were still creating Christ’s body every Sunday in the parish churches. It all revolved around telling stories, and convincing people to believe them. In the case of the French curés, the crucial story was that of Christ’s life and death as told by the Catholic Church. According to this story, if a Catholic priest dressed in his sacred garments solemnly, said the right words at the right moment, mundane bread and wine turned into God’s flesh and blood. The priest exclaimed, ‘Hoc est corpus meum!’ (Latin for ‘This is my body!’) and hocus pocus the bread turned into Christ’s flesh. Seeing that the priest had properly and assiduously observed all the procedures, millions of devout French Catholics behaved as if God really existed in the consecrated bread and wine.

In the case of Peugeot SA the crucial story was the French legal code, as written by the French parliament. According to the French legislators, if a certified lawyer followed all the proper liturgy and rituals, wrote all the required spells and oaths on a wonderfully decorated piece of paper, and affixed his ornate signature to the bottom of the document, then hocus pocus a new company was incorporated. When in 1896 Armand Peugeot wanted to create his company, he paid a lawyer to go through all these sacred procedures. Once the lawyer had performed all the right rituals and pronounced all the necessary spells and oaths, millions of upright French citizens behaved as if the Peugeot company really existed.

Telling effective stories is not easy. The difficulty lies not in telling the story, but in convincing everyone else to believe it. Much of history revolves around this question: how does one convince millions of people to believe particular stories about gods, or nations, or limited liability companies? Yet when it succeeds, it gives Sapiens immense power, because it enables millions of strangers to cooperate and work towards common goals. Just try to imagine how difficult it would have been to create states, or churches, or legal systems if we could speak only about things that really exist, such as rivers, trees and lions.

Over the years, people have woven an incredibly complex network of stories. Within this network, fictions such as Peugeot not only exist, but also accumulate immense power. The kinds of things that people create through this network of stories are known in academic circles as ‘fictions’, ‘social constructs’ or ‘imagined realities’. An imagined reality is not a lie. I lie when I say that there is a lion near the river when I know perfectly well that there is no lion there. There is nothing special about lies. Green monkeys and chimpanzees can lie. A green monkey, for example, has been observed calling ‘Careful! A lion!’ when there was no lion around. This alarm conveniently frightened away a fellow monkey who had just found a banana, leaving the liar all alone to steal the prize for itself.

Unlike lying, an imagined reality is something that everyone believes in, and as long as this communal belief persists, the imagined reality exerts force in the world. The sculptor from the Stadel Cave may sincerely have believed in the existence of the lion-man guardian spirit. Some sorcerers are Charlatans, but most sincerely believe in the existence of gods and demons. Most millionaires sincerely believe in the existence of money and limited liability companies. Most human-rights activists sincerely believe in the existence of human rights. No one was lying when, in 2011, the UN demanded that the Libyan government respect the human rights of its citizens, even though the UN, Libya and human rights are all figments of our fertile imaginations.

Ever since the Cognitive Revolution, Sapiens have thus been living in a dual reality. On the one hand, the objective reality of rivers, trees and lions; and on the other hand, the imagined reality of gods, nations and corporations. As time went by, the imagined reality became ever more powerful, so that today the very survival of rivers, trees and lions depends on the grace of imagined entities such as the United States and Google.

Bypassing the Genome

The ability to create an imagined reality out of words enabled large numbers of strangers to cooperate effectively. But it also did something more. Since large-scale human cooperation is based on myths, the way people cooperate can be altered by changing the myths, by telling different stories. Under the right circumstances myths can change rapidly. In 1789 the French population switched almost overnight from believing in the myth of the divine right of kings to believing in the myth of the sovereignty of the people.

Consequently, ever since the Cognitive Revolution Homo sapiens has been able to revise its behaviour rapidly in accordance with changing needs. This opened a fast lane of cultural evolution, bypassing the traffic jams of genetic evolution. Speeding down this fast lane, Homo sapiens soon far outstripped all other human and animal species in its ability to cooperate.

The behaviour of other social animals is determined to a large extent by their genes. DNA is not an autocrat. Animal behaviour is also influenced by environmental factors and individual quirks. Nevertheless, in a given environment, animals of the same species will tend to behave in a similar way. Significant changes in social behaviour cannot occur, in general, without genetic mutations. For example, common chimpanzees have a genetic tendency to live in hierarchical groups headed by an alpha male. Members of a closely related chimpanzee species, bonobos, usually live in more egalitarian groups dominated by female alliances. Female common chimpanzees cannot take lessons from their bonobo relatives and stage a feminist revolution. Male chimps cannot gather in a constitutional assembly to abolish the office of alpha male and declare that from here on out all chimps are to be treated as equals. Such dramatic changes in behaviour would occur only if something changed in the chimpanzees’ DNA.

For similar reasons, archaic humans did not initiate any revolutions. As far as we can tell, changes in social patterns, the invention of new technologies and the settlement of alien habitats resulted from genetic mutations and environmental pressures more than from cultural initiatives. This is why it took humans hundreds of thousands of years to make these steps. Two million years ago, genetic mutations resulted in the appearance of a new human species called Homo erectus. Its emergence was accompanied by the development of a new stone tool technology, now recognised as a defining feature of this species. As long as Homo erectus did not undergo further genetic alterations, its stone tools remained roughly the same for close to 2 million years!

In contrast, ever since the Cognitive Revolution, Sapiens have been able to change their behaviour quickly, transmitting new behaviours to future generations without any need of genetic or environmental change. As a prime example, consider the repeated appearance of childless elites, such as the Catholic priesthood, Buddhist monastic orders and Chinese eunuch bureaucracies. The existence of such elites goes against the most fundamental principles of natural selection, since these dominant members of society willingly give up procreation. Whereas chimpanzee alpha males use their power to have sex with as many females as possible and consequently sire a large proportion of their troop’s young the Catholic alpha male abstains completely from sexual intercourse and childcare. This abstinence does not result from unique environmental conditions such as a severe lack of food or want of potential mates. Nor is it the result of some quirky genetic mutation. The Catholic Church has survived for centuries, not by passing on a ‘celibacy gene’ from one pope to the next, but by passing on the stories of the New Testament and of Catholic canon law.

In other words, while the behaviour patterns of archaic humans remained fixed for tens of thousands of years, Sapiens could transform their social structures, the nature of their interpersonal relations, their economic activities and a host of other behaviours within a decade or two. Consider a resident of Berlin, born in 1900 and living to the ripe age of one hundred. She spent her childhood in the Hohenzollern Empire of Wilhelm ll; her adult years in the Weimar Republic, the Nazi Third Reich and Communist East Germany; and she died a citizen of a democratic and reunified Germany. She had managed to be a part of five very different sociopolitical systems, though her DNA remained exactly the same.

This was the key to Sapiens’ success. In a one-on-one brawl, a Neanderthal would probably have beaten a Sapiens. But in a conflict of hundreds, Neanderthals wouldn’t stand a chance. Neanderthals could share information about the whereabouts of lions, but they probably could not tell and revise stories about tribal spirits. Without an ability to compose fiction, Neanderthals were unable to cooperate effectively in large numbers, nor could they adapt their social behaviour to rapidly changing challenges.

While we can’t get inside a Neanderthal mind to understand how they thought, we have indirect evidence of the limits to their cognition compared with their Sapiens rivals. Archaeologists excavating 30,000 year old Sapiens sites in the European heartland occasionally find there seashells from the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts. In all likelihood, these shells got to the continental interior through long distance trade between different Sapiens bands. Neanderthal sites lack any evidence of such trade. Each group manufactured its own tools from local materials.

Another example comes from the South Pacific. Sapiens bands that lived on the island of New Ireland, north of New Guinea, used a volcanic glass called obsidian to manufacture particularly strong and sharp tools. New Ireland, however, has no natural deposits of obsidian. Laboratory tests revealed that the obsidian they used was brought from deposits on New Britain, an island 400 kilometres away. Some of the inhabitants of these islands must have been skilled navigators who traded from island to island over long distances.

Trade may seem a very pragmatic activity, one that needs no fictive basis. Yet the fact is that no animal other than Sapiens engages in trade, and all the Sapiens trade networks about which we have detailed evidence were based on fictions. Trade cannot exist without trust, and it is very difficult to trust strangers. The global trade network of today is based on our trust in such fictional entities as the dollar, the Federal Reserve Bank, and the totemic trademarks of corporations. When two strangers in a tribal society want to trade, they will often establish trust by appealing to a common god, mythical ancestor or totem animal.

If archaic Sapiens believing in such fictions traded shells and obsidian, it stands to reason that they could also have traded information, thus creating a much denser and wider knowledge network than the one that served Neanderthals and other archaic humans.

Hunting techniques provide another illustration of these differences. Neanderthals usually hunted alone or in small groups. Sapiens, on the other hand, developed techniques that relied on cooperation between many dozens of individuals, and perhaps even between different bands. One particularly effective method was to surround an entire herd of animals, such as wild horses, then chase them into a narrow gorge, where it was easy to slaughter them en masse. If all went according to plan, the bands could harvest tons of meat, fat and animal skins in a single afternoon of collective effort, and either consume these riches in a giant potlatch, or dry, smoke or (in Arctic areas) freeze them for later usage. Archaeologists have discovered sites where entire herds were butchered annually in such ways. There are even sites where fences and obstacles were erected in order to create artificial traps and slaughtering grounds.

We may presume that Neanderthals were not pleased to see their traditional hunting grounds turned into Sapiens controlled slaughterhouses. However, if violence broke out between the two species, Neanderthals were not much better off than wild horses. Fifty Neanderthals cooperating in traditional and static patterns were no match for 500 versatile and innovative Sapiens. And even if the Sapiens lost the first round, they could quickly invent new stratagems that would enable them to win the next time.

What happened in the Cognitive Revolution?

The immense diversity of imagined realities that Sapiens invented, and the resulting diversity of behaviour patterns, are the main components of what we call ‘cultures’. Once cultures appeared, they never ceased to change and develop, and these unstoppable alterations are what we call ‘history’.

The Cognitive Revolution is accordingly the point when history declared its independence from biology. Until the Cognitive Revolution, the doings of all human species belonged to the realm of biology, or, if you so prefer, prehistory (I tend to avoid the term ‘prehistory’, because it wrongly implies that even before the Cognitive Revolution, humans were in a category of their own). From the Cognitive Revolution onwards, historical narratives replace biological theories as our primary means of explaining the development of Homo sapiens. To understand the rise of Christianity or the French Revolution, it is not enough to comprehend the interaction of genes, hormones and organisms. It is necessary to take into account the interaction of ideas, images and fantasies as well.

This does not mean that Homo sapiens and human culture became exempt from biological laws. We are still animals, and our physical, emotional and cognitive abilities are still shaped by our DNA. Our societies are built from the same building blocks as Neanderthal or chimpanzee societies, and the more we examine these building blocks, sensations, emotions, family ties, the less difference we find between us and other apes.

It is, however, a mistake to look for the differences at the level of the individual or the family. One on one, even ten on ten, we are embarrassingly similar to chimpanzees. Significant differences begin to appear only when we cross the threshold of 150 individuals, and when we reach 1,000-2,000 individuals, the differences are astounding. If you tried to bunch together thousands of chimpanzees into Tiananmen Square, Wall Street, the Vatican or the headquarters of the United Nations, the result would be pandemonium. By contrast, Sapiens regularly gather by the thousands in such places. Together, they create orderly patterns such as trade networks, mass celebrations and political institutions that they could never have created in isolation. The real difference between us and chimpanzees is the mythical glue that binds together large numbers of individuals, families and groups. This glue has made us the masters of creation.

Of course, we also needed other skills, such as the ability to make and use tools. Yet tool-making is of little consequence unless it is coupled with the ability to cooperate with many others. How is it that we now have intercontinental missiles with nuclear warheads, whereas 30,000 years ago we had only sticks with flint spearheads? Physiologically, there has been no significant improvement in our tool-making capacity over the last 30,000 years. Albert Einstein was far less dexterous with his hands than was an ancient hunter-gatherer. However, our capacity to cooperate with large numbers of strangers has improved dramatically. The ancient flint spearhead was manufactured in minutes by a single person, who relied on the advice and help of a few intimate friends. The production of a modern nuclear warhead requires the cooperation of millions of strangers all over the world from the workers who mine the uranium ore in the depths of the earth to theoretical physicists who write long mathematical formulae to describe the interactions of subatomic particles.

To summarise the relationship between biology and history after the Cognitive Revolution:

1. Biology sets the basic parameters for the behaviour and capacities of Homo sapiens. The whole of history takes place within the bounds of this biological arena.

2. However, this arena is extraordinarily large, allowing Sapiens to play an astounding variety of games. Thanks to their ability to invent fiction, Sapiens create more and more complex games, which each generation develops and elaborates even further.

3. Consequently, in order to understand how Sapiens behave, we must describe the historical evolution of their actions. Referring only to our biological constraints would be like a radio sportscaster who, attending the World Cup football championships, offers his listeners a detailed description of the playing field rather than an account of what the players are doing.

What games did our Stone Age ancestors play in the arena of history? As far as we know, the people who carved the Stadel lion-man some 30,000 years ago had the same physical, emotional and intellectual abilities we have. What did they do when they woke up in the morning? What did they eat for breakfast and lunch? What were their societies like? Did they have monogamous relationships and nuclear families? Did they have ceremonies, moral codes, sports contests and religious rituals? Did they fight wars? The next chapter takes a peek behind the curtain of the ages, examining what life was like in the millennia separating the Cognitive Revolution from the Agricultural Revolution.

3. A Day in the Life of Adam and Eve

TO UNDERSTAND OUR nature, history and psychology, we must get inside the heads of our hunter-gatherer ancestors. For nearly the entire history of our species, Sapiens lived as foragers. The past 200 years, during which ever increasing numbers of Sapiens have obtained their daily bread as urban labourers and office workers, and the preceding 10,000 years, during which most Sapiens lived as farmers and herders, are the blink of an eye compared to the tens of thousands of years during which our ancestors hunted and gathered.

The flourishing field of evolutionary psychology argues that many of our present-day social and psychological characteristics were shaped during this long preagricultural era. Even today, scholars in this field claim, our brains and minds are adapted to a life of hunting and gathering. Our eating habits, our conflicts and our sexuality are all the result of the way our hunter-gatherer minds interact with our current post-industrial environment, with its mega-cities, aeroplanes, telephones and computers. This environment gives us more material resources and longer lives than those enjoyed by any previous generation, but it often makes us feel alienated, depressed and pressured.

*

from

Sapiens, A Brief History of Humankind

by Yuval Noah Harari

get it at Amazon.com

Inequality breeds stress and anxiety. No wonder so many Britons are suffering – Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett.

Studies of people who are most into our consumerist culture have found that they are the least happy, the most insecure and often suffer poor mental health.

Understanding inequality means recognising that it increases school shootings, bullying, anxiety levels, mental illness and consumerism because it threatens feelings of self-worth.

In equal societies, citizens trust each other and contribute to their community. This goes into reverse in countries like ours.

The gap between image and reality yawns ever wider. Our rich society is full of people presenting happy smiling faces both in person and online, but when the Mental Health Foundation commissioned a large survey last year, it found that 74% of adults were so stressed they felt overwhelmed or unable to cope. Almost a third had had suicidal thoughts and 16% had selfharmed at some time in their lives. The figures were higher for women than men, and substantially higher for young adults than for older age groups. And rather than getting better, the long-term trends in anxiety and mental illness are upwards.

For a society that believes happiness is a product of high incomes and consumption, these figures are baffling. However, studies of people who are most into our consumerist culture have found that they are the least happy, the most insecure and often suffer poor mental health.

An important part of the explanation involves the psychological effects of inequality. The greater the material differences between us, the more important status and money become. They are increasingly seen as if they were a measure of a person’s inner worth. And, as research shows, the result is that the more unequal the society, the more people feel anxiety about status and how they are seen and judged. These effects are seen across all income groups from the poorest to the richest tenth of the population.

Inequality increases our insecurities about selfworth because it emphasises status and strengthens the idea that some people are worth much more than others. People at the top appear supremely important, almost as superior beings, while others are made to feel as if they are of little or no value. A study of how people experience low social status in different countries found, predictably, that people felt they were failures. They felt a strong sense of shame and despised themselves for failing. Whether they lived in countries as rich as the UK and Norway, or as poor as Uganda and Pakistan, made very little difference to what it felt like to be near the bottom of the social ladder.

Studies have shown that conspicuous consumption is intensified by inequality. If you live in a more unequal area, you are more likely to spend money on a flashy car and shop for status goods. The strength of this effect on consumption can be seen in the tendency for inequality to drive up levels of personal debt as people try to enhance their status.

But it is not just that inequality increases status anxiety. For many, it would be nearer to the truth to say that it is an assault on their feeling of self-worth. It increases what psychologists have called the “social evaluative threat”, where social contact becomes increasingly stressful. The result for some is low self-esteem and a collapse of self-confidence. For them, social gatherings become an ordeal to be avoided. As they withdraw from social life they suffer higher levels of anxiety and depression.

Others react quite differently to the greater ego threat of invidious social comparisons. They react by trying to boost the impression they give to others. Instead of being modest about achievements and abilities, they flaunt them.

Rising narcissism is part of the increased concern with impression management. A study of what has been called “self-enhancement” asked people in different countries how they rated themselves relative to others. Rather like the tell-tale finding that 90% of the population think they are better drivers than average, more people in more unequal countries rated themselves above average on a number of different dimensions. They claimed, for example, that they were cleverer and more attractive than most people.

Nor does the damage stop there. Psychological research has shown that a number of mental illnesses and personality disorders are linked to issues of dominance and subordination exacerbated by inequality. Some, like depression, are related to an acceptance of inferiority, others relate to an endless attempt to defend yourself from being looked down on and disrespected. Still others are borne of the assumption of superiority or to an endless struggle for it. Confirming the picture, the international data shows not only that mental illness as a whole is more common in more unequal societies, but specifically that depression, schizophrenia and psychoses are all more common in those societies.

What is perhaps saddest about this picture is that good social relationships and involvement in community life have been shown repeatedly to be powerful determinants of health and happiness. But it is exactly here that great inequality throws another spanner in the works. By making class and status divisions more powerful, it leads to a decline in community life, a reduction in social mobility, an increase in residential segregation and fewer inter-class marriages.

More equal societies are marked by strong community life, high levels of trust, a greater willingness to help others, and low levels of violence. As inequality rises, all this goes into reverse. Community life atrophies, people cease to trust each other, and homicide rates are higher.

In the most unequal societies, like Mexico and South Africa, the damage has gone further: citizens have become afraid of each other. Houses are barricaded with bars on windows and doors, razor wire atop walls and fences.

And as inequality increases, a higher proportion of a country’s labour force is employed in what has been called “guard labour” the security staff, prison officers and police we use to protect ourselves from each other.

Understanding inequality means recognising that it increases school shootings, bullying, anxiety levels, mental illness and consumerism because it threatens feelings of self-worth.

Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett are the authors of The Inner Level: How More Equal Societies Reduce Stress, Restore Sanity and Improve Everyone’s Wellbeing

Life after Severe Childhood Trauma. I Think I’ll Make It. A True Story of Lost and Found – Kat Hurley.

Had I known I should have been squirreling away memories as precious keepsakes, I would have scavenged for more smiles, clung to each note of contagious laughter and lingered steadfast in every embrace.

Memory is funny like that: futile facts and infinitesimal details are fixed in time, yet things you miss, things you wish you paid fuller attention to, you may never see again.

“I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”

Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods

To write this book, I relied heavily on archived emails and journals, researched facts when I thought necessary, consulted with some of the people who appear in the book, and called upon my own memory, which has a habitual tendency to embellish, but as it turns out, there wasn’t much need for that here. Events in this book may be out of sequence, a handful of locations were changed to protect privacy, many conversations and emails were re-created, and a few names and identifying characteristics have been changed.

It was hardly a secret growing up that psychologists predicted I would never lead a truly happy and normal life. Whether those words were intended for my ears or not seemed of little concern, given the lack of disclaimer to follow. There was no telling what exceedingly honest bits of information would slip through the cracks of our family’s filtration system of poor Roman Catholic communication. I mean, we spoke all the time but rarely talked. On the issues at least, silence seemed to suit us best, yet surprising morsels of un-sugarcoated facts would either fly straight out of the horse’s mouth or trickle their way down through the boys until they hit me, the baby.

I was five when I went to therapy. Twice. On the second visit, the dumb lady asked me to draw what I felt on a piece of plain construction paper. I stared at the few crayons next to the page when I told her politely that I’d rather not. We made small talk instead, until the end of the hour when she finally stood up, walked to the door and invited my grandma in. They whispered some before she smiled at me and waved. I smiled back, even if she was still dumb. I’m sure it had been suggested that I go see her anyway, because truth be known, psychologists were a “bunch of quacks,” according to my grandma. When I said I didn’t want to go back, nobody so much as batted an eye.

And that was the end of that.

When I draw up some of my earliest most vivid memories, what I see reminds me of an old slide projector, screening crooked, fuzzy images at random. in the earliest scenes, I am lopsidedly pigtailed, grass stained, clothes painfully clashing. In one frame I am ready for my first day of preschool in my bright red, pill-bottomed bathing suit, standing at the bottom of the stairs where my mom has met me to explain, through her contained laughter, that a carpool isn’t anything near as fun as it sounds. In another, I am in the living room, turning down the volume on my mom’s Richard Simmons tape so I can show her that, all on my own yet only with a side-puckered face, I’d learned how to snap. In one scene, I’m crouched down in the closet playing hide-and-seek, recycling my own hot Cheerio breath, patiently waiting to be found, picking my toes. Soon Mom would come home and together we’d realize that the boys weren’t seeking (babysitting) me at all, they’d simply gone down the street to play with friends.

I replay footage of the boys, Ben and Jack, pushing me in the driveway, albeit unintentionally, toward the busy road on my first day with no training wheels, and (don’t worry, I tattled) intentionally using me as the crash-test dummy when they sent me flying down the stairs in a laundry basket. I have the scene of us playing ice hockey in the driveway after a big ice storm hit, me proudly dropping the puck while my brothers Stanley Cup serious faced off.

I call up the image of me cross-legged on my parents’ bed, and my mom’s horrified face when she found me scissors in hand thrilled with what she referred to as my new “hacked” do. That same bed, in another scene, gets hauled into my room when it was no longer my parents’, and my mom, I presume, couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. I can still see the worry on her face in those days and the disgust on his. I see the aftermaths of the few fights they couldn’t help but have us witness.

Most of the scenes are of our house at the top of the hill on McClintock Drive, but a few are of Dad’s townhouse in Rockville, near the roller rink. I remember his girlfriend, Amy, and how stupid I thought she was. I remember our Atari set and all our cool new stuff over there. And, of course, I remember Dad’s really annoying crack-of-dawn routine of “Rise and Shine!”

I was my daddy’s darling, and my mommy’s little angel.

Then without warning I wasn’t.

Had I known I should have been squirreling away memories as precious keepsakes, I would have scavenged for more smiles, clung to each note of contagious laughter and lingered steadfast in every embrace. Memory is funny like that: futile facts and infinitesimal details are fixed in time, yet things you miss, things you wish you paid fuller attention to, you may never see again.

I was just a regular kid before I was ever really asked to “remember.” Up until then, I’d been safe in my own little world: every boo-boo kissed, every bogeyman chased away. And for a small voice that had never been cool enough, clever enough, or captivating enough, it was finally my turn. There was no other choice; I was the only witness.

“Tell us everything you know, Katie. It is very important that you try to remember everything you saw.”

August 11, 1983

I am five. I’ll be in kindergarten this year, Ben is going to third grade, Jack will be in seventh. I’m not sure where the boys are today; all I know is that I’m glad it’s just me and Mom. We’re in the car, driving in our Ford wagon, me bouncing unbuckled in the way back. We sing over the radio like we always do. We’re on our way to my dad’s office, for the fivehundredth time. Not sure why, again, except that “they have to talk.” They always have to talk. Ever since Dad left and got his new townhouse with his new girlfriend, all they do is talk.

Mom pulls into a space in front of the office. The parking lot for some reason is practically empty. His cleaning business is all the way in the back of this long, lonely stretch of warehouse offices, all boring beige and ugly brown, with big garage doors and small window fronts.

“You can stay here, sweetie pie I won’t be long.”

I have some of my favorite coloring books and a giant box of crayons; I’ll be fine.

Time passes in terms of works of art. Goofy, Mickey, and Donald are all colored to perfection be fore I even think to look up. I am very fond of my artistic abilities; my paint by numbers are exquisite, and my papier-maché, as far as I’m concerned, has real promise for five. All of my works are fridge-worthy; even my mom thinks so. My special notes and handmade cards litter her nightstand, dresser, and bathroom counter.

I hear a scream. Like one I’d never heard before, except on TV. Was that her? I sit still for a second, wait for another clue. That wasn’t her. But something tells me to check anyway just in case.

I scramble out from the way back, over the seat, and try to open the door, but I’m locked in why would she look me in? I tug at the lock and let myself out. With the car door still open, I scurry to the front window of my dad’s shop, and on my tiptoes, ten fingers to the ledge, I can see inside. The cage with the snakes is there, the desk and chairs are there, the cabinets and files are there, everything looks normal like the last time I was inside. Where are they?

Then through the window, I see my mom. At the end of the hall, I can see her through the doorway. But just her feet. Well, her feet and part of her legs. They are there, on the floor her sandals still on. I can make out the tip of his shoe too, at her thigh, like he’s sitting on top of her. She is still. I don’t get it. Why are they on the floor? I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I don’t recall knocking; maybe I did. I do know that I didn’t yell to be let in, call for help, or demand that I know what was going on.

It wasn’t her. It sounded like it came from down the street, I tell myself. Maybe it wasn’t a scream scream, anyway. Someone was probably just playing, I convince myself. I get back in the car. I close the door behind me and color some more.

Only two pages are colored in this time. Not Mickey and friends, Snow White now. Fairy tales. My dad knocks on the window, startling me, smiling. “Hey, princess. Your mom is on the phone with Aunt Jeannie, so you’ll just see her Monday. You’re coming with me, kiddo. We have to go get your brother.”

Everything I’ve seen is forgotten. My dad’s convincing smile, tender voice, and earnest eyes make all my fright disappear. He told me she was on the phone, and I believed him. How was I supposed to know that dads could lie?

Two days later, my brothers and I were at the beach on a job with Dad when our grandparents surprised us with the news. “Your mother is missing.” And it was only then, when I sensed the fear they tried so intently to wash from their faces, that the realization struck me as stark panic, that l was brought back to the scene for the first time and heard the scream I understood was really her.

My testimony would later become the turning point in the case, reason enough to convict my father, who in his cowardice had covered all his traces. Even after his conviction, it would be three more years until he fully confessed to the crime. I was eight when I stood, uncomfortable, in a stiff dress at her grave for the second time more flowers, same priest, same prayers.

To say I grew up quickly, though, as people have always suspected, would be a stretch. Certainly, I was more aware, but the shades of darkness were graced with laughter and lullabies and being a kid and building forts, and later, learning about my period from my crazy grandma.

I honestly don’t remember being treated any differently, from Grandma Kate at least. If I got any special attention, I didn’t know it. Life went on. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. My few memories of mom, despite my every attempt, faded with each passing holiday.

I was in Mrs. Dunne’s third grade class when my dad finally confessed. We faced a whole ’nother wave of reporters, news crews, and commotion. They replayed the footage on every channel: me, five years old again, clad in overalls, with my Care Bear, walking into the courtroom. And just like before, my grandpa taped all the news reels. “So we never forget,” he said.

For our final TV interview, my grandparents, the boys, and I sat in our church clothes in the front room to answer the reporter’s questions. I shifted around on Grandma Kate’s lap in my neatly pressed striped Easter dress. Everybody had a turn to talk. I was last. “Katie, now that the case is closed, do you think you will be able to move on?”

I’m not sure how I knew it then, especially when so many years of uncertainty were still to come, but I was confident: “Yeah.” I grinned. “I think I’ll make it.”

Chapter One

TEACHING MOMENT

“Well, I just called to tell you I’ve made up my mind.” Silence “I will not be returning to school next year.”

Silence “I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do I just know I cannot come back.”

Barbara, my faculty chair, on the other end of the line, fumed. I could hear it in each syllable of Catholic guilt she spat back at me. We’d ended a face-to-face meeting the day before with, “I’ll call you tomorrow with my decision,” as we agreed to disagree on the fact that the students were more important than my mental health and well-being.

“What will they do without you? You know how much they love you. We created this new position for you, and now you’re just going to leave? Who will teach the class? It’s August!” she agonized.

God, she was good. She had this guilt thing down pat. An ex-nun, obviously an expert, and this was the first I’d been on her bad side, a whole year’s worth of smiles, waves and high-fives in the hallways seemed to get clapped out with the erasers.

It was true; I loved the kids and didn’t want to do this so abruptly, like this is August. This was not my idea of a resume builder. Nevertheless, as each bit of honesty rose from my lips, I felt freer and freer and more true to myself than I’d felt in, well, a long frickin’ time. A sense of relief washed through me in a kind of cathartic baptism, cleansing me of the guilt. I stopped pacing. A warm breeze swept over the grass on the hill in front of our condo then over me. I stood on the sidewalk still nervous, sweating, smiling, teary-eyed. I can’t believe I just did that.

St. Anne’s was a very liberal Catholic school, which ironically, had given me a new faith in the closeminded. The building housed a great energy of love and family. I felt right at home walking through its doors even at new-teacher orientation, despite it having been a while since I needed to be shown the ropes. I’d already been teaching for six years in a position where I’d been mentoring, writing curriculum and leading administrative teams. I normally didn’t do very well on the bottom rung of the totem pole, but more pay with less responsibility had its merit.

It was definitely different, but a good different. I felt newly challenged in a bigger school, looked forward to the many programs already in place and the diversity of the staff and student body. The ceremonies performed in the religion-based setting seemed foreign at first, yet witnessing the conviction of our resident nuns and tenured faculty restored a respect I had lost over the years. They were the hymns that I recognized, the verses I used to recite, the prayers I was surprised I still remembered, the responses I thought I’d never say again.

The first time we had Mass together as an entire school, I was nearly brought to tears. I got goose bumps when the notes from the piano reverberated off the backboards on the court the gym-turned-place-of-worship hardly seemed the place to recommit. Yet, hearing the harmony of our award-winning gospel choir and witnessing the level of participation from the students, faculty, and administration, I was taken aback. The maturity of devotion in the room was something I had never experienced in any of my churches growing up. Students, lip-synching their words, distracted and bored, still displayed more enthusiasm than the lumps hunched at my old parishes.

It was during that first Mass that I realized there was only one person who could have gotten me there to a place she would have been so proud to tell her bridge club I was working. She would have been thrilled for me to find God here. The God she knew, her Catholic God the one who had listened to her rosary, day after day, her pleas for her family’s health and well-being, her pleas for her own peace and forgiveness. Gma had orchestrated it all. I was certain.

As that realization unfolded, I saw a glimpse of her endearing eyes, her tender smile before me, and with that my body got hot, my lashes heavy, soaked with a teary mist. Although it would be months till I stumbled upon a glimpse of what some might call God, it was here, at St. Anne’s, where I gained a tradition I had lost, a perspective I had thought impossible, a familiarity that let me feel a part of something, and a trust that may have ultimately led me straight out the door.

Our kitchen, growing up, reeked of canned beans and burnt edges. Grandma Kate knew of only one way to cook meat, crispy. On most nights, the fire alarm let us know that dinner was ready. The table was always set before I’d come running in, at the sound of her call, breathless from playing, to scrub the dirt from my fingernails. She was a diligent housewife, though at times she played the part of something far more independent. The matriarch, we called her the gel to the whole damn bunch of us: her six, or five rather, and us three.

She responded to Grandma Kate, or just Kate, or Kitty, as her friends from St. Cecelia’s called her, or Catherine, as she generally introduced herself, or Gma, as I later deemed her all names necessary to do and be everything that she was to all of us.

She and I had our moments through my adolescence where the chasm of generations between us was more evident than we’d bother to address. They’d sold their five-bedroom home in Manor Club when it was just she and Grandpa left alone inside the walls baring all their memories. The house had character worn into its beams by years of raising six children and consequently taking the abuse of the (then) eleven grandchildren like a docile Golden Retriever.

It wasn’t long after my grandpa died that I moved back in with Gma. At fifteen, it was just she and I in their new two-bedroom condo like college roommates, bickering at each other’s annoying habits, ridiculing each other’s guests, and sharing intimate details about each other’s lives when all guards were off and each other was all we had.

Despite our differences, her narratives always fascinated me. I had grown up on Gma’s tales and adventures of her youth. In most of her stories, she depicted the trials of the Depression and conversely, the joys of simplicity. She encouraged any craft that didn’t involve sitting in front of the television. She believed in hard work, and despite her dyslexia, was the first woman to graduate from Catholic University’s Architectural School in the mid-1940s. “Of course,” she said. “There was no such thing as dyslexia in my day. Those nuns damn near had me convinced I was just plain dumb.”

She was a trained painter and teacher, a fine quilter, gardener, and proud lefty. She had more sides to her than a rainbow-scattering prism. When we were young and curious, flooding her with questions, we’d “look it up” together. When we had ideas, no matter how silly, she’d figure out a plan to somehow help us make it happen. All of us grandkids had ongoing special projects at any given time: whether it was building in the garage, sewing in the living room, painting in the basement, or taking long, often lost, “adventures” that brought us closer to her past.

She was from Washington DC, so subway rides from Silver Spring into the city were a regular episode. We spent so many hours in the Museum of Natural History I might attribute one of my cavities to its famous astronaut ice cream. We also went to see the cherry blossoms when they were in bloom each year, visited the National Zoo and toured the Washington Monument as well as several of the surviving parks and canal trails from her childhood.

It was on these journeys that she and I would discuss life, politics, war, religion, and whatever else came to mind. She was a woman of many words, so silences were few and far between. I got to know her opinion on just about everything because nothing was typically left unsaid, nothing.

By the time I was in high school and college, the only music we could agree on in the car was the Sister Act soundtrack. On our longer jaunts when conversation dripped to a minimum, I would toss in the tape before the banter went sour, which was a given with our opposite views on nearly everything. I’d slide back the sunroof, and we’d sing till our hearts were content.

“Hail mother of mercy and of love. Oh, Maria!”

She played the grouchy old nun, while I was Whoopi, trying to change her stubborn ways.

Gma and I both loved musicals, but while I was off scalping tickets to see Rent on Broadway, which she would have found too loud and too crude (God knows she would have had a thing or two to say about the “fairy” drag queen), she was content with her video of Fiddler on the Roof.

As I sat in the theater recently for the Broadway performance of Lion King, I couldn’t help but picture her sitting there beside me, her big, brown eyes shifted right with her good ear turned to the stage; it was a show we would have both agreed on.

For the theater, she would have wetted down her short gray wispy hair and parted it to the side and then patted it down just so with both hands. A blouse and a skirt would have already been picked out, lying on the bed. The blouse would get tucked in and the belt fastened not too far below her bra line. Then she’d unroll her knee highs from the toes and slip on some open toe sandals, depending on the season; she didn’t mind if the hose showed. Some clip-on earrings might have made their way to her virgin lobes, if she remembered, and she would have puckered up in the hallway mirror with a tube of Clairol’s light pink lipstick from her pocketbook before announcing that she was ready.

Gma would have loved the costumes, the music, the precision in each detail. And in the car ride home, I can hear her now, yelling over the drone of the car’s engine because her hearing aid had remained in the dresser drawer since the day she brought it home. “There wasn’t but one white fella’ in the whole gosh dern show. Every last one of ’em was black as the day is long, but boy could they sing. God, what beautiful voices they had, and even as deaf as I am I could understand what they were saying. They were all so well spoken.”

Rarely does a day go by that I don’t smile at one of her idioms or imagine one of her crazy shenanigans, her backward lessons, or silly songs. I used to feel guilty about the proportion I spent missing her over the amount I did my own mother. I guess it makes sense, though, to miss what I knew for far longer, and I suppose I had been swimming laps in the gaping void I housed for my mom.

Over the years, I often thought if I truly searched for my mom she would give me a sign, but where would I even look? Or would I even dare? Gma believed in those kinds of things, and despite having long lost my religion, she made me believe.

She told me a story once, without even looking up from the quilt she mended, about a dark angel who sat in a chair by the window in the corner of the room, accompanying her in the hospital as her mother lay on her deathbed gripped by cancer. She said the angel’s presence alone had been enough to give her peace. I had watched her get mistyeyed while she brought herself back to the scene, still pushing the thimble to the fabric. Another time, she continued, she sat on the front step of their first house on Pine Hill in hysterics as she’d just gotten word of her three-year-old daughter’s cancer diagnosis; she’d felt a hand on her shoulder enough to calm her. She knew then she wasn’t alone.

These conversations became typical when it was just us. When she cried, so did I. We wore each other’s pain like thick costume makeup, nothing a good cry and some heavy cold cream couldn’t take off. She shared with me her brinks of meltdowns after losing my mother, and I grew up knowing that she had far more depth than her overt simplicity echoed.

It wasn’t until my latter college years, though, when we had become so close we were able to overlook most of our differences. By then, I wanted all the time I spent running away back; I wanted my high school bad attitude and disrespect erased; I wanted the smell of my cigarette smoke in her station wagon to finally go away. She was my history. She was my companion. She was home to me.

In the last few years, we shared our haunts, our fears, our regrets. Yet, we laughed a lot. She never minded being the butt of any good joke. She got crazier and goofier in her old age, shedding more of her crossbred New England proper and Southern Belle style. One of my favorite memories was of the time my college roommate, Kathleen, and I taught her how to play “Asshole” at our Bethany, Delaware, beach house.

Gma had said, “The kids were all down here whoopin’ it up the other night playing a game, havin’ a good ol’ time, hootin’ and hollerin’. I would like to learn that game. They kept shouting some curse word what’s it called again?”

“Asshole?” I had said.

“Yup, that must be it. Asshole sounds right. Think you can teach this old bird?”

Kathleen and I nearly fell over at the request but were obliged to widen Gma’s eyes to the awesome college beer-drinking game full of presidents, assholes, and beer bitches. And she loved it, quite possibly a little tipsy after a few rounds. We didn’t typically play Asshole with Jacob’s Creek chardonnay.

Throughout the course of several conversations, Gma assured me that she’d had a good life and when the time came, she’d be ready. In those last few years, if I stood in her condo and so much as mentioned the slightest gesture of admiration toward anything she owned, she’d say, “Write your name on the back.” She’d have the Scotch tape and a Sharpie out before I could even reconsider.

It was 2003, a year into my teaching career, when Gma finally expressed how proud she was of me. She said that my mom had always wanted to be a teacher, that she was surely proud of me, too. I’ll never forget waking up to my brother’s phone call, his voice solemn. I was devastated.

It was my mom and Gma who helped Brooke and I get our house, I always said. I had signed a contract to start at St. Anne’s in the fall, so we needed a home outside the city that would make my new commute toward DC more bearable. Three years after Gma died, since I wasn’t speaking to God much in those days, I asked Mom and Gma to help us out if they could. Brooke, who only knew Gma through my incessant stories, was just as kooky as I was when it came to talking to the dead so she never batted an eye at the references I made to the china cabinet.

Gma’s old antique china cabinet green until she stripped, sanded and painted it maroon the year she moved to her condo sat in the dining room of our rented row house in Baltimore. (The smell of turpentine will always remind me of her leathered hands.) Sometimes, for no good reason, the door would fall slightly ajar, and each time it did, I swore she was trying to tell me something. While dating a girl I imagine Gma was not particularly fond of, I eventually had to put a matchbook in the door just to keep the damn thing closed it creeped me out in the mornings when I’d wake up to the glass door gaping.

The exact night Brooke and I put the contract in on our house, we mentioned something to Gma before going to bed, kissing our hands and casually patting the side of the paint-chipped cabinet. The next morning wide open. Two days later contract accepted. I was elated; I’d never had such a good feeling about anything.

I felt so close to my team of guardian angels then. Everything seemed to be in its delightfully divine order, and I thanked them immensely from the moment we began the purchasing process until the time we moved in, displaying my gratitude thereafter with each stroke of my paintbrush and each rock pulled from the garden. I adored the home we were blessed with, our cute little cobblestone accented condo, our very first house. Even though we knew it wasn’t a forever home, it was ours to make our own for now. And we did or we started to.

So when the fairy tale began to fall apart, just a little over a year later, I couldn’t help but question everything, intentions, meaning. There was no sign from the china cabinet. None of it made sense, the reason behind it all, I mean. Sure, I had always known growing up that everything has its reason. I have lived by that motto, but I could make no sense of this. It’s one thing for a relationship to fall apart, but to have gone all this way, with the house to tie us even further? I was beside myself.

Needless to say, my bits of gratitude tapered off as I felt like I had less and less to be thankful for. I still talked to Mom and Gma, but not without first asking, “Why?” And something, quite possibly the silence that made the question seem rhetorical told me I was going to have to get through this on my own. Perhaps it was a test of independence or a sudden stroke of bad karma for all the years spent being an obnoxious teenager, ungrateful, untrustworthy. Either way I was screwed; of that much I was certain.

I had always wanted to leave. To go away, I mean. Study abroad or go live in another state and explore. I had traveled a little in college but nowhere extensively. So, as all the boxes moved into our brand new house were unpacked and making their way into storage, the reality of being bound started creeping into my dreams through suffocation. I was faintly torn. Not enough to dampen the mood, because I imagined that somehow all that other stuff, my writing, my passions, would come later. It would all fall into place somehow. I guess I trusted even in the slightest possibility, although I knew that with each year of teaching, the job that was supposed to give me time off to be creative, I felt more and more comfortable and lackadaisical about pursuing my dreams.

I took a writing course online that drove in some discipline, only to drop it midway when things got complicated. Brooke often entertained the idea of moving to California, which kept me content, although I knew with the look of things that was only getting further and further from practical. But since being honest with myself wasn’t my strong suit, I ignored my intuition, and looking back, ignored a lot of signs that might have politely escorted me out the door rather than having it slammed in my face.

Chapter Two

SEX IN PLURALISTIC SOCIETY

I took a course, Sex in a Pluralistic Society, in my last semester of college. Somehow I thought it was going to be a lecture on the sociology of gender. Keep in mind this was the same semester I tried to cram in all my last requirements, registering for other such gems as Plagues and People; Death, Dying and Bereavement; and History of Theology.

Yes, the sex class was the lighter side to my schedule, but my prude Catholic upbringing made a sex journal, “Or, if you don’t have a partner, make it a self-love journal,” a really difficult assignment. Plus, the guy who taught the class just creeped me out. The videos he made us watch, I’m still traumatized. A classmate and I thought to complain, on several occasions, but it was both of our last semesters so it’s fair to say that, like me, she left that sort of tenacity to the underclassmen.

Despite the dildos, the pornography, and the daylong discussion on G-spots, I did take away one valuable lesson from that loony old perv. It was toward the end of the semester when the concept of love was finally introduced. By then, I had done my fair share of heart breaking and had tasted the bitter side of breakup a few times myself. I was sure I knew everything he had to say.

Instead, I was surprised to find myself taking notes when he broke down the Greeks’ take on the four different kinds of love: agape, eros, philia, storge. We discussed unconditional love versus conditional love. Yeah, yeah; I knew all that. He went on to describe eros as manic love, obsessive love, desperate love.

“This is the kind of love movies are based on. It’s high energy, high drama, requires no sleep, is built on attraction, jealousy runs rampant; it comes in like a storm and subsides often as quickly as it came in.” I cringed when he said, “It’s immature love.”

And here, I thought, this is what it was all about. All lesbian love, at least all those wonderful, electrifying things! Eros it even sounds erroneous.

It was when I was dating the most confident and beautiful, twinkly-eyed woman I’d ever laid my hands on, some four years later, that I was brought back to that lecture. Despite our good intentions and valiant attempts at maturity, Brooke and I had a relationship built on many of those very erroneous virtues. It was movie-worthy high passion infused with depths that felt like coming down from a rock star kind of party.

Perhaps it’s because it began all wrong. She was fresh out of college. I was already teaching, working weekends at a chick bar in Baltimore at the time, Coconuts, our very own Coyote Ugly. One night, a friend of hers (she admitted later) noticed me, in my finest wicker cowboy hat and cut-off shirt, slinging beers and lining up shots between stolen, flirtatious moments on the dance floor. A week later, Brooke and I were fixed up at a party. We were both in other relationships that we needed excuses to get out of, so why not? She was beautiful (did I say that already?), tall, caramel skin and hazel eyes, tomboy cute when she was feeling sporty, simply stunning when dressed to the nines. She even fell into her dad’s Brazilian accent after a few cocktails, which sealed it for me; I was enamored. Plus, she was a bona fide lesbian (a first for me), and we wore the same size shoe. What more do you need?

We did everything together: tennis, basketball, squash. She’d patiently sit on the beach while I surfed. I always said yes to her shopping trips. We even peed with the door open so as to not interrupt conversation. And I’m almost certain I slept right on top of her for at least a solid year, I’d never been considered a “peanut” before. In fact, I don’t think we separated at all for the first couple of years we dated, now that I think about it. Maybe for an odd trip, but it didn’t go without feeling like we’d lost a limb, I swear. We’d always say, “No more than five days,” as if we wouldn’t have been able to breathe on day six.

When we first started dating, I went to Japan for nine days to visit my brother Jack who had been stationed at Atsugi. I was pretty pathetic. It was my first time traveling alone, so when I stepped off the plane on foreign soil and my family wasn’t at the gate ready to collect me, I quickly reverted to my inner child, the sweeping panic stretched from my tippy toes to my fingertips.

It was the same feeling I used to get in Kmart when I’d look up from the shelf to tug at the skirt of the lady standing beside me, only to be both mortified and petrified when I realized that face and body didn’t belong to my Gma. I’m not sure who was supposed to be keeping track of whom, but whoever it was did so poorly. Hence the reason why I developed a system: I’d go sit in the back of our station wagon where I knew it would be impossible for me to be forgotten among the dusty racks of stiff clothes. The first time I put this system into place, unbeknownst to anyone, I resurfaced from the car when the two police cars arrived, to see what all the hubbub was about. Boy, were they glad to see me when I strolled back through the automatic sliding doors, unaware of all the excitement I had started.

Thank God my sister-in-law found me in Tokyo after I’d already figured out how to work the phones and had dialed home. Brooke had calmed me down by talking me through the basics: I wasn’t lost; I was just on the brink of being found, she assured me. I’d hung up and collected myself by the time Jill and the kids arrived.

Every evening in Japan, I slid away from the family and hid in my room where I clumsily punched hundreds of calling card numbers into the phone just so I could hear Brooke’s voice before bed. And like me, she was dying inside at the distance between us.

Sure, there were some caution signs, some red flags being waved, but all the good seemed to outweigh the bad, and who’s perfect, really? I thought some of my ideologies about love were too lofty and maybe, just maybe, I had to accept that I would never have all that I desired from a relationship, like say, trust. Plus, people grow, they mature, relationships mature; surely we’d be the growing kind. We liked self-help books. We had a shelf where they sat, most of them at least half-read.

Her family loved me, and I adored them. Yes, it took a while for them to get used to the idea of me being more than just Brooke’s “roommate.” Thankfully, the week Brooke came out to her family, a close family friend, battling breast cancer, took a turn for the worse. Brooke came back at her parents’ retorts with, “Well, at least I don’t have cancer.” And to that, well they had to agree.

Brooke and I traveled together. We loved the beach. We loved food and cute, quaint little restaurants. We loved playing house and raising a puppy. We loved talking about our future and a big fat gay wedding, and most of all we loved being loved. We bought each other flowers and little presents and surprised each other with dinner and trips and concert tickets. I’ll never forget the anniversary when she had me get all dressed up just to trick me into a beautiful candlelit dinner at home. I could have sat at that table forever, staring into her shimmering, smiling eyes, or let her hold me for just as long as we danced among the rose petals she’d scattered at our feet.

It was for all those reasons that the darkness never outweighed the light, the screaming matches, the silent treatments, the distrust, the jealousy. All those things seemed part of our short past when we began shopping for our first home. It was a blank slate, a new beginning signing the paperwork, picking out furniture, remodeling our kitchen.

God, we danced so much in that kitchen.

We laughed at our goofy dog, Porter. We cried on our couch, watching movies. We supported each other in our few separate endeavors. We shared chores and “mom” duty and bills and credit cards. And I think it was under the weight of all the things of which we were once so proud that it all began to crumble. “Do you have to slam the cabinets like that?” as if I were picking up new habits to purposefully push her away. “I hate fighting like this in front of him!” she’d say, pointing at Porter. “Look, we’re making him nervous.”

She sobbed and sobbed, and her big beautiful eyes remained bloodshot for at least six months as I watched her slip away from me. I begged her to tell me what she needed, and even that she couldn’t do.

Brooke finally had a social life that I supported wholeheartedly, but that social life seemed to echo more and more of what was wrong with us. During the day things appeared fine and good and normal, but at night her cold shoulder sent me shivering further and further to the opposite side of the bed until I eventually moved into the spare bedroom.

I didn’t get it. I said that I did, that I understood, but I didn’t.

She spent an awful lot of time with a “friend.” Julie, a mutual friend, or so I thought. We all hung out together, thus I didn’t think to question anything until it became more and more blatant. I would beg, “Just tell me what’s going on with the two of you. I’m a big girl. I’ll just walk away. But I can’t just sit around here feeling batty while you deny what I can see with my own two eyes!”

She wouldn’t admit to it. “Nothing is going on.” She said she just needed time to figure herself out.

In the meantime, I was still her home. I was still her best friend and even at the furthest distance she’d pushed me to, I was the one who calmed her when the weight of it all made her come unhinged.

I was the one who rubbed her back and kissed her forehead.

She wanted me to be an asshole, so she’d have an excuse. She wanted me to get pissed to lessen her compounding guilt. I’m not sure if it was that I couldn’t or that I wouldn’t do either of those things. I still hung onto what I’d promised with that sparkly little ring I’d given her, not the real thing, but a big promise. I had taken it all very seriously. “In sickness and in health.” And here she was before me, as far as I could see it, sick.

Well, sick was the only diagnosis that wouldn’t allow me to hate her as she inhabited our home with me, a platonic roommate, sometimes cold and aloof and other times recognizable and warm. I felt like we had somehow been dragged into the drama of a bad after-school special without the happy commercials of sugary cereals and toys that will never break or end up like the Velveteen Rabbit, who ironically, I was really starting to resemble in the confines of our condo with its walls caving in.

While the final days of summer strode past in their lengthy hour, the honest words, “I want to take a break,” were inescapably spoken. I felt sick, stunned by the syllables as they fell from her lips. We’d been at the beach for the weekend where I naively thought we might be able to spend some time all to ourselves, mending the stacks of broken things between us. I knew this had to do with Julie, but still nobody had the guts to admit it. I was infuriated. So much so, that I reduced myself to checking cell phone logs and sleuthing around my own home. I hated myself for the lengths I allowed her to push me.

There was no way I could return to school as my signed contract promised. I couldn’t imagine focusing on my students while I was so busy focusing on my failing relationship. Although the last thing I wanted to do was uproot myself, I had finally begun to gather the pebbles of self-respect that would eventually become its new foundation. I had to go.

And with the phone call to my faculty chair, I did exactly what I never imagined I would do. I resigned. I had never been so excited to throw in the towel well, except for that one awful restaurant where I was too much of a coward to quit so I faxed in my resignation an hour before my shift that time felt good too. But this was different. I didn’t chicken out. I stood up to Barbara’s crucifix-firing cannon and prevailed.

When Brooke and I weren’t fighting or walking on eggshells around each other, she dove into my arms expressing her undying love for me, and I held the stranger I no longer connected with, consoling her. I didn’t know what to make of all the mixed emotions. I had taken my accusations to Julie herself to try to get some answers, but she laughed at my arguments, claiming Brooke was “too confused” to be dating anyone right now. Julie was older, with graying wisps, loafers and pleated pants. To look at her anymore made me sick. And, after all, Brooke still wore the ring I’d given her. Still, after nine months, none of it made any sense.

The night she woke me, cross-legged on the floor at my bed because she couldn’t sleep and it was driving her crazy, she looked desperate. I held her and stroked her hair, calming her with my patient voice, exuding every ounce of love that could look past my own pain to reduce hers. Healthy? Probably not. But that was the only way I knew how to love her. To put everything of me aside. Everything.

I have always wanted a family. From the time I was little I knew I would be a mom. At eight, I thought marrying a rich man and becoming a housewife was the golden ticket to true happiness, along with becoming the president, a monkey trainer, and a marine biologist. My pending future changed with the weather, but rich was almost always a constant. A valid measure of success at eight, I suppose. A family, and its entire construct, was very important to me: the house, the dog, the hus or now the wife, all of it.

And that’s what Brooke and I had, or we talked like we did. Raising our puppy from ten weeks to his “man”hood and buying household goods on joint credit cards. We were all grown up like a real family. With our names linked on more than just the dog’s birth certificate, “taking a break” was really a separation and anything beyond that was really a divorce. I hadn’t reached that logic in my head, perhaps because I still refused to believe that all I imagined was disintegrating before me, where I stood, clenching fistfuls of hopeless dust.

Chapter Three

ON THE GOOD FOOT

I toyed with the idea of California, as I had always talked about. No reason to stay here. Seriously, with no excuses holding me back, I searched tirelessly for jobs on craigslist day in and day out. And there was an edge of excitement in taking control, or that’s what I convinced myself was going on. I applied for a few teaching jobs in California, Colorado, British Columbia, and even New York. I was intrigued by the schools that touted their outdoor education programs and offered classes like rock climbing and snowboarding. I reasoned with myself: teaching can’t be all that bad with a mountain backdrop and class cancelations for white-water rafting.

*

from

I Think I’ll Make It. A True Story of Lost and Found

by Kat Hurley

get it at Amazon.com

Why even supply-siders know Trickle Down is rubbish. Even if you build it, the poor can’t come – Mark R Reiff.

Supply creates its own demand?

Wrong!

When you build more stuff, it is not true that all the costs of production are introduced into the economy as new money. You have merely injected new money to the extent you have incurred additional marginal costs, labour and materials mostly. Most fixed costs don’t rise with the increased production.

And it is unlikely that a producer would take the risk of ramping up production in a troubled economic environment if all that could be recovered was the marginal costs.

And no reasonable business person thinks that enough new money can be introduced by increasing production alone. If they did, record amounts of cash wouldn’t be sitting in corporate bank accounts doing nothing.

Obviously, the people who control this cash don’t believe that supply creates its own demand. They think that increasing production without first seeing an increase in demand would be foolhardy.

‘If you build it, they will come.’

It’s a Latin saying, Si tu id aeficas, ei venient, but it’s probably more recognisable because it sounds like what that disembodied voice says to Kevin Costner in the film Field of Dreams (1989). And in the film, Costner does build it, a baseball field, and people do come. In either case, it’s a good way of summing up the case for supply-side economics.

But to understand that case, we need to break it down into its constituent elements. And the thinking behind it goes like this: if you want to stimulate the economy, then cut taxes on the rich, those who invest in and build things, and they will use this extra money to produce more stuff. Why? Because supply creates its own demand, so if they produce more they will sell more, and the economy will expand. An expanding economy, in turn, benefits everybody. There will be more jobs, wages will be higher, and government budget deficits will shrink.

This latter effect, of course, might seem counterintuitive. But the argument is that even though tax rates go down, the amount of economic activity these cuts unleash will grow everyone’s income to such an extent that the total tax collected by the government, even at these lower rates, will actually go up.

That’s what the supply-siders contend.

Given that the supply-side approach has been the policy of the Republican Party for decades, this argument has proved convincing to a lot of people. But let’s look at it a little more carefully.

The notion that supply creates its own demand is known as Say’s law, after the French economist Jean Baptiste Say (1767-1832) who is credited with its formulation. The thought is that when you produce more, you have to spend additional money to do so. This additional spending, in turn, provides people with extra income, and therefore the wherewithal to buy the additional goods you have created.

Of course, you cannot just build anything. To sell more of something, it has to be something that people actually want. Say himself acknowledged this. But let’s focus on the mechanics of how increasing production is supposed to give people the wherewithal to purchase more of what they do want. Unfortunately, the presumptions here just don’t make sense.

First, at most, building more goods simply introduces funds equivalent to their cost of production into the economy. But things don’t sell for their cost of production no one builds anything unless they think they can price it at a profit. And if you don’t think people will have enough new money to pay this price, why would you increase production?

Second, a lot of the costs of production are what economists call ‘fixed’ costs; that is, the cost of big things such as factories and office buildings and expensive machines and equipment, rather than the costs of the additional labour and supplies necessary to build one extra thing, which are called ‘marginal’ costs. The total cost of production combines fixed and marginal costs, and fixed costs usually represent the far greater share. This means that when you build more stuff, it is not true that all the costs of production are introduced into the economy as new money.

You have merely injected new money to the extent you have incurred additional marginal costs.

And it is unlikely that a producer would take the risk of ramping up production in a troubled economic environment if all that could be recovered was the marginal costs.

Third, producers receive many of the goods needed in the production of further goods from their suppliers on credit. Why presume that all the marginal costs of additional production have actually been paid at the time the goods hit the shelves? Or that the ultimate consumer is going to be willing to use credit to increase consumption in troubled times, even if those higher up the chain have used credit to increase production?

More concerning still, if consumers do use credit, unless we later provide them with more income, we will have simply set ourselves up for another financial collapse when the teaser rates on their loans time out and further payments become unaffordable, as happened in 2008.

None of these problems with supply-side thinking will come as a surprise to anyone who runs a business. They are happy to see their taxes cut, sure, but they are not going to use this extra money to increase production unless they think that their customers will have enough new money to buy these additional goods. And no reasonable business person thinks that enough new money can be introduced by increasing production alone. If they did, record amounts of cash wouldn’t be sitting in corporate bank accounts doing nothing, which is what has been happening for years now. Obviously, the people who control this cash don’t believe that supply creates its own demand. They think that increasing production without first seeing an increase in demand would be foolhardy.

History is also not on the supply-siders’ side. To see the failure of the supply-side approach at the national level, all we need do is look at the 2001 and 2003 tax cuts signed into law by the then president of the United States, George W Bush.

These tax cuts did not increase investment or production. Rather, the rich either hoarded this additional money or used it to bid up the price of existing assets, creating asset bubbles and exponentially increasingly economic inequality. And because economic activity did not increase enough to offset the loss of government revenue from reduced taxes, the deficit exploded. To see a similar result on the state level, in turn, we can look at the recent supply-side ‘Kansas experiment’. There, massive tax cuts on the rich and corporations almost bankrupted the state.

Remember also that in the 19th century, when Say devised his law, there was a huge amount of untapped demand for new goods; most costs were marginal costs; and most transactions were for cash, not credit. At that time, perhaps it seemed like supply did create its own demand. But not today.

Today, to stimulate the economy, we need to increase demand first. And the best way to do this is by putting more money in the hands of the people whom the economist John Maynard Keynes described in 1936 as having the highest ‘marginal propensity to consume’.

These are not the rich, but rather the poor and middle-class. For, as a group, these are the people who can be counted on to spend all their income whereas, as we have already seen, the rich are likely to keep a chunk of it in cash.

Once demand is increased among the poor and middle class, Keynes argued, production will rise to meet it.

In deciding whether to go with the supplyside or the Keynesian approach to stimulating the economy, there is one more consideration that is relevant.

Recent history has shown that we can’t be sure that economic expansion alone will solve our wider economic problems. Almost all of the benefits of economic growth during the past 30 years or so have accrued to the rich, and mostly to the super-rich. Real income for most people has been stagnant or even declined. The new jobs that have been created are mostly temporary, low-wage, nobenefit jobs. Permanent, good-wage jobs with benefits have continued to disappear.

Rather than giving money to the rich in these circumstances and hoping that it trickles down to the rest of us, as the supply-siders suggest, it would be better to give money to the poor and middle-class, as the Keynesians suggest. The Keynesian approach, after all, has worked many times in the past. Indeed, it’s how the West emerged from the Great Depression. But most importantly, if for some reason it doesn’t work, at least we will have made the right people better off.

Mark R Reiff has taught political, legal and moral philosophy at the University of Manchester, the University of Durham and the University of California, Davis, and he was a Faculty Fellow at the Safra Center for Ethics at Harvard University.

Common sense on Tax. Who said it was meant to be fair? – Brian Fallow.

The major part of a homeowner’s return on investment is the avoided cost of renting a similar property. It falls within the purist definition of income.

But perhaps the most unfortunate restriction on the scope of the Tax Working Group’s task, from the standpoint of fairness, is that it has been instructed not to consider the interaction between the tax system and the transfer (welfare) system.

It is the net effect of both tax and transfers which reduces the stark inequality of market incomes into the (still substantial) inequality of disposable incomes.

The OECD says New Zealand has the fourth least redistributive tax and transfer system among 30 rich countries it looked at.

The Government has given the Tax Working Group chaired by Sir Michael Cullen a well nigh impossible task.

Its terms of reference are peppered with the word “fair”. It occurs seven times. How can the tax system be made ”fair, balanced and efficient”?

But the terms of reference go on to rule out all the obvious ways of making it fairer.

For a start, the working group is not allowed to recommend any increase in income tax rates.

Yet there might well be a case for a more progressive income tax scale on vertical equity grounds. That is, the principle that those with higher incomes, or ability to pay, should pay a greater amount of tax.

And if they wanted to reduce the impact of bracket creep in the middle of the income distribution, the revenue cost could be reduced by introducing a new top rate for those with most ability to pay. Too bad, it is forbidden.

Inheritance tax is also ruled out of consideration, despite the obvious equity argument for having one. Yet legacies fall within economists’ conception of income what can be consumed in a given period while keeping real wealth intact and if you have an income tax, you should tax income. The broader the base, the lower rates can be.

Real capital gains are also income, and the Government has clearly pointed the tax working group’s gaze in that direction.

But the family home is off limits for any capital gains tax, and the ground under it for any land tax.

That is despite the fact that housing equity represents the lion’s share of household wealth, which is distributed even more unequally than income is.

The “third rail” (touch it and you die) status of owner-occupied housing would also rule out any attempt to tax imputed rents, which also count as economic income.

The major part of a homeowner’s return on investment is the avoided cost of renting a similar property. It falls within the purist definition of income, but the electoral fate of Gareth Morgan’s party last year suggests that persuading voters of the merits of such a reform is a forbidding challenge.

But perhaps the most unfortunate restriction on the scope of the Tax Working Group’s task, from the standpoint of fairness, is that it has been instructed not to consider the interaction between the tax system and the transfer (welfare) system.

Victoria University of Wellington economists Simon Chapple and Toby Moore, in a wide ranging and trenchant submission to the Tax Working Group, argue that this makes no sense.

It is the net effect of both tax and transfers which reduces the stark inequality of market incomes into the (still substantial) inequality of disposable incomes.

And, it turns out, less so here than in most other developed countries. Officials, in a background paper for the working group on tax and fairness, point out that the OECD reckons New Zealand has the fourth least redistributive tax and transfer system among 30 rich countries it looked at.

As one example of the incoherence of the tax benefit system, Chapple and Moore cite child support payments.

For someone on one of the main benefits, like Sole Parent Support, every dollar of child support reduces their benefit by $1, an effective tax rate of 100 per cent until the benefit payment is entirely clawed back by the Government.

For someone else who has a job well enough paid not to need a benefit, the same child support is tax-free income. How fair is that?

The tax welfare interface is riddled with such anomalies and perverse incentives.

Research by Patrick Nolan at the Productivity Commission, into the effective marginal tax rates which arise from the targeting of income support policies, indicates it is not uncommon for people to find themselves facing rates as high as 100 per cent. That is, they could significantly increase the number of hours they work and be not one dollar better off, because ofthe thresholds and abatement rates which apply.

These poverty traps are not so much a ditch as a crevasse.

Chapple and Moore also highlight the inconsistency between the tax and benefit systems in terms of the units they apply to individuals or families: “The benefit (or negative tax) system assesses need on the basis of family income. The income tax system assesses ability to pay on the basis of individual income.” We assess fairness or equity issues in terms of families, not individuals’ circumstances.

“Yet we have a tax system which bases income tax, which has as an important goal equity on individuals rather than families.”

They urge the Tax Working Group to look into the pros and cons of a family-based tax system.

“A lot of OECD countries, including the United States, adjust income tax to family circumstances,” says Chapple, a former chief economist at the Ministry of Social Development who now heads the Institute for Governance and Policy Studies.

All this would not be so bad if the newly formed Welfare Expert Advisory Group was going to get to grips with the complexities of the tax/welfare interface.

But it is not clear that it will.

Its brief does include giving “high level” recommendations for improving Working for Families.

And it is instructed to give ”due consideration to interactions between the welfare overhaul and related Government work programmes such as the Tax Working Group”.

So it arguably does have a mandate, should it wish, to get to grips with the often toxic interaction between the tax and welfare systems.

But it is far from clear that the Welfare Expert Advisory Group has the expertise, or for that matter the budget, to do so.

More likely, the issue will fall between the two stools.

For a Government that proclaims the reduction of child poverty to be a central goal, it is a striking omission.

Fortress Europe, the Inhumanity of Europe’s Refugee Policy – Costas Georgiades and Luca Bücken.

Officials undertaking vulnerability assessments at Moria refugee camp are left asking not whether someone has been raped, but how brutally and how often.

This is no longer a “refugee crisis” or even a “refugee management crisis.” It is now a humanitarian crisis by design.

Are Europe’s citizens and leaders really prepared to abandon basic values like solidarity and empathy for a future of walls guarded by Libyan mercenaries, an arguably unlawful deal with Turkey, and unconscionable conditions for people seeking refuge from poverty and conflicts that Europe helped to create?

Many promising policies with the potential to create a safe and humane asylum process have been proposed. Yet the EU continues to allow asylumseekers to languish in unconscionable conditions, betraying its values for the sake of deterrence.

For the asylum seekers in the Moria refugee camp in Lesbos, Greece, the word “almost” has become a source of devastation. They almost made it. They are almost at the end of their brutal journey. As Aarash, a 27-year-old father of a young daughter and an MBA graduate from Kabul, Afghanistan, put it, “When all is said and done, we are only almost human.” And Europe only almost welcomes them.

“Almost” causes unbearable despair to the asylum-seekers trapped on Lesbos and Samos, who have already endured the trauma of their journey and camp life. According to a report released in October by Doctors without Borders, nearly 50% of refugees on Samos experienced violence while passing through Turkey, and close to 25% had experienced violence since arriving in Greece. Officials undertaking vulnerability assessments at Moria are left asking not whether someone has been raped, but how brutally and how often.

Against this background, it is unsurprising that residents suffer psychologically. Yet the waiting list for psychological treatment is over 500 names long, meaning that few will end up receiving any support at all. In the meantime, a small clinic run by the Greek nonprofit Emergency Response Center International in Moria confronts cases of self-harm daily, and suicide is not uncommon.

The trauma specialist Paul Stevenson described a demoralization syndrome that he observed during his work at migrant detention centers on Nauru, off the Australian coast. Following a natural disaster, he says, the incidence of posttraumatic stress disorder is about 3%. After a terrorist attack, that figure rises to about 25%. In the case of torture and incarceration, it jumps to 50%, because that “is considered to be the most demoralizing situation” a person can experience.

Psychological torture and incarceration are effectively what asylum-seekers in the Moria camp now face. Although they are permitted to come and go as they please, there are no alternative living spaces or food-distribution points. And conditions in the camp are characterized by cramped and inadequate facilities an estimated 6,600 asylum-seekers are currently residing in a camp built for 3,000 not to mention the constant threat of abuse.

This situation contrasts sharply with the European Union’s narrative. A year after the European refugee crisis or, more accurately, refugee-management crisis peaked in the summer of 2015, the EU declared that the situation was under control. But, while it is true that fewer refugees were arriving on Europe’s shores, anyone who has been to Lesbos lately knows that the crisis is far from over.

Analysts have likened the EU’s asylum and security policies in the Mediterranean since 2015 to the construction of a “fortress Europe.” If the EU is a fortress, Moria camp is its torture chamber, with nightmarish conditions that have been well documented. This is no longer a “refugee crisis” or even a “refugee management crisis.” It is now a humanitarian crisis by design. Given the EU’s data and resources, this outcome can be viewed only as intentional.

In fact, appalling conditions are being allowed to prevail in refugee camps, because authorities want to deter other asylum seekers including some who arguably have no right to international protection from trying to get in, and potentially even to impel some who have arrived to return home. Better camp conditions and allowing refugees to reach the Greek mainland, the logic goes, would contribute to another surge in crossings. Greece’s highest administrative court has called into question the legality of this containment policy, a result of the controversial EU-Turkey agreement. The Greek government, however, has defied the court’s ruling.

It is a heartless, cynical strategy of reckless disregard for human dignity, justified by bigoted discourse and biased narratives. Are Europe’s citizens and leaders really prepared to abandon basic values like solidarity and empathy for a future of walls guarded by Libyan mercenaries, an arguably unlawful deal with Turkey, and unconscionable conditions for people seeking refuge from poverty and conflicts that Europe helped to create?

Against all logic, and despite “almost” after “almost,” Moria camp residents remain hopeful that Europe will soon remember and abide by its commitments to upholding human rights. In the meantime, they demonstrate that it is often in inhumane conditions that humanity shines the brightest.

New arrivals receive support from their communities, including lessons on survival in the camp’s demoralizing environment. The camp’s different ethnic communities often act together to ensure that compatriots who develop psychosis, for example, are among those who actually receive treatment. Waqi, despite incredible personal trauma experienced before and after her arrival in Greece, cares for the children of two families because their depressive parents cannot.

It does not have to be this way. Many promising policies with the potential to create a safe and humane asylum process have been proposed. These include humanitarian visas, preference matching between host countries and asylum seekers, resettlement, and much stronger support for frontline countries.

Advocating for such solutions may not be comfortable or politically popular. Developing and implementing new asylum policies that respect the rights and humanity of asylum-seekers then will demand bold leadership. But the status quo is clearly unacceptable.

The Handbook Of Solitude. Psychological Perspectives on Social Isolation, Social Withdrawal, and Being Alone.

Some might believe that it is not fear that guides the behaviors of some of these solitary individuals. Instead, it might be proposed that some of these noninteracting individuals have a biological orientation that leads them to prefer a solitary existence.

I am quite certain that what the reader will come away with after having completed the chapters included herein is that solitude has many faces.

On Solitude, Withdrawal, and Social Isolation

Kenneth H. Rubin

As I sit in my office pondering what it is that I should be writing in the Foreword to this extraordinary compendium, I am alone. With the door closed, I am protected against possible interruptions and am reminded of the positive features of solitude, there is no one around, it is quiet, and I can concentrate on the duties at hand. Indeed, several contributors to this volume have written about the pleasantries associated with solitude; frankly, I must agree with this perspective, but do so with a number of significant provisos. I will offer a listing of these provisos in the following text. However, before so doing, I would like to suggest a thought experiment or two.

A Science Fiction Thought Experiment

Why must one understand the significance of solitude, withdrawal, and social isolation? Let’s begin with a little thought experiment. Imagine, for at least one millisecond, that we have arrived on a planet populated by billions of people. Never mind how these people came into existence. Let’s just assume that they happen to be on the planet and that we know not how they came to be. Imagine too that there is no interpersonal magnetism, that these people never come together, there are no interactions, there is no crashing together or colliding of these individuals. All we can see are solitary entities walking aimlessly, perhaps occasionally observing each other. In short, we are left with many individuals who produce, collectively, an enormous social void. From an Earthly perspective, we might find the entire enterprise to be rather intriguing or boring or frightening and would likely predict that prospects for the future of this planet are dim.

Given that this is a supposed “thought exercise,” please allow me to humor myself and replace the aforementioned noun “people” with “atoms” or their intrinsic properties of electrons, protons, and neutrons. By so doing, one might have to contemplate such topics as magnetism and collision and the products of these actions. This would immediately give rise to thoughts of mass, electricity, and excitement. Without magnetism (attraction), electricity, and excitement, whatever would we be left with? As I move more forcefully into this exercise, I find myself in increasingly unfamiliar territory I may study pretense, but I am not a pretender at least insofar as suggesting to anyone willing to listen (or read) that l have “real” knowledge about anything pertaining to physics. In fact, I am ever so happy to leave the study of the Higgs boson to that group of scholars engaged in research at CERN’s Large Hadron Collider.

For the time being, I will escape from any contemplation of physics and swiftly return to thinking about a planet on which people appear to exist without laws of attraction. If the “people” who inhabit the planet do not collide, we are left with the inevitability of what solitude would eventually predict, a nothingness, an emptiness, a void. If “people” did not collide, did not interact, there would be no “us.” Relationships would not exist; there would be no human groups, no communities, no cultures. There would be no sense of values, norms, rules, laws. Social hierarchies would not exist; there would be no need to think about mindreading, perspective taking, interpersonal problemsolving. Liking, loving, accepting, rejecting, excluding, victimizing none of these significant constructs would be relevant. Social comparison, self-appraisal, felt security, loneliness, rejection sensitivity topics that tend to appear regularly in the Developmental, Social, Personality, Cognitive, and Clinical Psychology literatures would be irrelevant. From my admittedly limited perspective, as a Developmental Scientist (and thankfully not as a Physicist), there would be nothing to write, think, feel, or be about.

Thank goodness for those nuclear researchers at CERN. They have taught us that magnetism matters, that interactions matter, that clusters matter (and may collide to produce new entities). These folks are not pondering what happens with people, they are thinking at the subatomic level. I, on the other hand, have spent the past 40-some years thinking about people, their individual characteristics, their interactions and collisions with one another, the relationships that are formed on the basis of their interactions, and the groups, communities, and cultures within which these individuals and relationships can be found. Indeed, I have collected more than a fair share of data on these topics. In so doing, I am left with the conclusion that solitude, isolation, and social withdrawal can be ruinous. It ain’t science fiction.

A Second Thought Experience

Let’s move to a rather different thought experience. Imagine that the community within which we live teaches its inhabitants, from early childhood, that normative sociocultural expectations involve helping, sharing, and caring with and for each other; teaching each other about that which defines the “good, bad, and ugly”; communicating with each other about norms and what may happen when one conforms to or violates them. Imagine too, that in such a community within which interaction, cooperation, and relationships matter, there are some individuals who, for whatever reason, do not interact with their confreres. One might suppose that the remaining members of the community could ponder why it is that these solitary individuals behave as they do. And several suggestions may be offered for their solitude.

For example, it may be suggested that some of these noninteracting individuals have some biological or perhaps some genetic orientation that leads them to feel uncomfortable in the presence of others. Perhaps members of the community may have read something about a gene that is associated with diminished 5-HTT transcription and reduced serotonin uptake. Some in the community may have read somewhere that without the regulating effects of serotonin, the amygdala and hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) system can become overactive, leading to the physiological profile of a fearful or anxious individual.

Fear may be a guiding force for these solitary individuals fear of what may happen if they approach others in the community; fear of what may happen if they attempt to develop a nonfamilial relationship with another in the community; fear of leaving a negative impression on those who may judge their actions, thoughts, emotions, and behaviors.

Or perhaps, some might believe that it is not fear that guides the behaviors of some of these solitary individuals. Instead, it might be proposed that some of these noninteracting individuals have a biological orientation that leads them to prefer a solitary existence. These individuals may feel more positively inclined when in the company of inanimate objects things.

At this point, our second thought experience leaves us with the identification of two “types” of solitary individuals:

1. Those who are motivated by fear, the prospects of social appraisal, and heightened sensitivity to the possibility of rejection;

2. Those who have a distinct preference for solitude.

Regardless of the epidemiological “causes” of solitary behavior, in a society that has strong beliefs in the importance of cooperation, collaboration, and caregiving, it is likely that the majority of individuals who adhere to the cultural ethos would begin to think unpleasant thoughts about the noninteracting minority. They may think of solitary individuals as displaying unacceptable, discomfiting behavior; they may begin to feel negatively about them; they may discuss among themselves the need to exclude these noninteractors or to alter the behavior of these nonconforming individuals. Indeed, from the extant research, it is known that those who display behaviors considered to be inappropriate or abhorrent to the majority may be isolated by the group-at-large.

And so now we have a third group of solitary individuals those who have been isolated by the social group.

But how would these hypothetical community responses affect the nonsocial, nonconforming individual? What kinds of interactive/noninteractive cycles would be generated? And what would the solitary individuals think and feel about the larger community responses to them?

The Point

The preceding verbiage brings me to the singular message that I am attempting to convey. From “all of the above,” I am willing to step out on a limb to suggest, straight-out, that solitude can be punishing, humbling, debilitating, and destructive.

I do admit that it would be foolish to ignore the perspectives of those who have sung the praises of solitude. This would include several authors of chapters in this compendium. It would also include the many beloved and respected authors, poets, painters, philosophers, spiritualists, and scientists who have suggested that their best work or their deepest thoughts derive from those moments when they are able to escape the madding crowd. Here are a few examples:

1 “You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.” Franz Kafka

2 “How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary seabird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here forever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.” Virginia Woolf

I could offer hundreds of quotations about the glories of solitude from rather well known people. Nevertheless, from my perhaps distorted, limited, and ego-centered perspective, I find it difficult to believe that one can lead a productive and happy life locked in a closet, a cave, a tent, a room. Virginia Woolf committed suicide; Kafka had documented psychological difficulties vis-a-vis his inability to develop and maintain positive and supportive relationships with others.

One may prefer solitude and many of us require solitude for contemplation, exploration, problem solving, introspection, and the escape of pressures elicited by the social/academic/employment/political communities. As I noted in the opening paragraph, solitude may be an entirely acceptable pursuit. But this statement comes with several provisos.

The “ifs”

If one spends time alone voluntarily, and if one can join a social group when one wants to, and if one can regulate one’s emotions (e.g., social fears and anger) effectively, and if one can initiate and maintain positive, supportive relationships with significant others, then the solitary experience can be productive.

But the provisos that I have appended to the solitary experience are rather significant. I am quite certain that what the reader will come away with after having completed the chapters included herein is that solitude has many faces. These faces have varied developmental beginnings, concomitants, and courses. And these faces may be interpreted in different ways in different contexts, communities, and cultures. And perhaps most importantly, the provisos offered previously must be kept in mind regardless of context, community, and culture. Frankly, if one fails to be mindful of these provisos, one can return to the introductory thought experiment and be assured that the failure of individuals to “collide” with one another will result in unpleasant consequences.

People do need to collide, or better put, interact with others. Of course, these interactions must be viewed by both partners as acceptable, positive, and productive. These interactions must be need fulfilling. Drawing from the wisdom of others who have written of the significance of such interactions (e.g., John Bowlby and Robert Hinde), one might expect that a product of these interactive experiences is the expectation of the nature of future interactions with the same partners. Furthermore, from this perspective, one might expect that each partner is likely to develop a set of expectations about the nature of future interactions with unknown others. If the interactions experienced are pleasant and productive, then positive dyadic relationships may result. if, however, the interactions experienced are unpleasant or agonistic, the partners may avoid each other. And in some cases, if a particular individual comes to expect that all interactions will eventually prove negative, withdrawal from the social community may result.

A Final Comment: Annus horribilis

During the first six months of 2012, I “lived” in a hospital after having endured a heart transplant and numerous health complications. Although I was surrounded by medical staff and had many regular visitors, I was literally isolated from the “outside world.” For the first two months of my hospitalization, my mind and body were at the river’s edge. But when the neurons began firing somewhat normally (beginning March 2012), and when I was able to converse with hospital staff and visitors, I nevertheless felt totally alone. It did not help that when visitors (and medical staff) met with me, they were required to wear masks, gloves, and medical gowns of one sort or another.

Eventually, it struck me that I was living at the extreme edge of what I had been studying for most of my professional career. And just as I had found through the use of questionnaires, interviews, rating scales, and observations (with samples of children and adolescents, and their parents, peers, and friends), solitude brought with it intrapersonal feelings of loneliness, sadness, anxiety, helplessness, and hopelessness. I felt disconnected from my personal and professional communities. Despite visitors’ generosity and kindness, I was miserable. Of course, when I was able to read and use my laptop, I could have taken the opportunity to play with ideas and data; my solitude could have been productive. But negative affect (emotion dysregulation) got in the way.

Upon return home, I rehabilitated and received visitors family, friends, colleagues, students, former golf and hockey “buddies.” I welcomed news about family (I was especially grateful to be reunited with my grandchildren!), friends, academe, and the world at large. I began to catch up on the various projects that my lab was involved in. Within a matter of weeks, I was coauthoring manuscripts and preparing abstracts for submission to various conferences. Although physically weak and incapable of taking lengthy walks or lifting anything heavier than a few pounds, my spirits were greatly improving, I was no longer alone! And finally, by August, when I returned to campus for the first time, I felt reconnected and valued!

The bottom line is that my personal solitude, especially given that it was experienced for a lengthy period of time and “enforced” externally and involuntarily, resulted in unpleasant consequences. The good news is that I have come to believe that the data my colleagues and I have collected over the years are actually meaningful beyond the halls of academe! Spending an inordinate time alone; feeling disconnected, rejected, and lonely; being excluded and perhaps victimized by others; being unable to competently converse with and relate to others (which may well result from solitude) can create a life of misery and malcontent; in some cases, this combination of factors may result in attempts at self-harm; in other cases it may result in attempts to harm others. Think for a moment about how often perpetrators of violence (e.g., Columbine, Virginia Tech, Newton High School, and the Boston Marathon bombings) have been described as loners, withdrawn, victimized, isolated, and friendless. Indeed, think about how some of the perpetrators have described themselves.

As I write this last sentence, my mind drifts to the lyricist/songwriting team of Eddie Vedder and Jeff Ament. Their evocative song “Jeremy” is based, in part, on the description of the death of Jeremy Wade Delle, a 15-year-old high school student in Richardson, Texas. Jeremy is portrayed as a quiet, sad adolescent who “spoke in class today” by committing suicide (by gunshot) in the presence of his classmates. The lyrics also suggest that the Jeremy in the song suffered parental abuse and/or neglect. In the music video, Jeremy appears to be rejected, excluded, and isolated by his peers. The words “harmless,” “peers,” and “problem” appear throughout the video. And in interviews about the “meanings” of the lyrics, Vedder has suggested that he was attempting to draw attention to one possible consequence of difficulties that can be produced by familial and peer disruptions. More importantly, he argued that one must gather one’s strength to fight against the seeming inevitability of the negative consequences of isolation, solitude, and rejection. I would suggest that the central message is that family members, peers, school personnel, and community leaders should be aware of the signs that presage intra and interpersonal desolation.

Of course, not all people described as “solitary” or “isolated” have intra or interpersonal problems. As noted previously, solitude and social withdrawal are not “necessarily evil.” We all need time alone to energize and re-energize, to mull, to produce this-and-that without interruption. But our species is a social species. So much is gained when people interact, collaborate, help, and care for others, develop relationships, and become active members of groups and communities. However, when combined with dysregulated emotions, social incompetence, and a lack of supportive relationships, solitude, much like many other behavioral constructs studied by psychologists, can induce miserable consequences. The “trick” is to know if, when, and how to intervene within the family, peer group, and community.

In closing, it is with pleasure and pride that two of my former students (and current colleagues and close friends) have done such a wonderful job in putting together this compendium on solitude. After all, I do believe that once upon a time, I may have introduced the constructs of social withdrawal and solitude to Rob Coplan and Julie Bowker! Somehow, I doubt that I instructed or commandeered Rob and Julie to study solitude, isolation, and aloneness. If memory serves me correct, they were each interested in things social. All I happened to do was provide them with a personal, historical (perhaps hysterical) note about how and why I became interested in the research I was doing. Of course, I could never claim to have played a role in the thoughts and research of those who have examined solitude from the perspectives of anthropology, biology, computer science, divinity, neuroscience, political science, primatology, psychoanalysis, sociology, and those tracks of psychology that focus primarily on personality, the environment, autism, and adult relationships. Therein lies the beauty of this compendium.

Editors Coplan and Bowker have cleverly taken a twisty turn that curves beyond their own comfort zones of Developmental Science. By so doing, they have left me absolutely delighted. Coplan and Bowker have clearly attempted to move the reader into multiple zones of cognitive disequilibration and to appreciate that if we are to truly understand any given phenomenon, we must look well beyond the silos within which we are typically reinforced to reside.

You now hold in your hands a selection of readings that describe a variety of perspectives on solitude. You will read what solitude looks like; why it is that people spend time alone; why it is that solitude can be a necessary experience; how it feels and what one thinks about when one spends a good deal of time avoiding others or being rejected and excluded by one’s social community. There is no compendium quite like the one that you are handling. I applaud the editors’ efforts, and I do hope that the reader does herself/himself justice by closely examining chapters that move well beyond their own self-defined areas of expertise and intrapersonal comfort tunnels.

1 All Alone

Multiple Perspectives on the Study of Solitude

Robert J. Coplan, Department of Psychology, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada

Julie C. Bowker, Department of Psychology, University at Buffalo, USA


Seems I’m not alone in being alone. Gordon Matthew Sumner (1979)

The experience of solitude is a ubiquitous phenomenon. Historically, solitude has been considered both a boon and a curse, with artists, poets, musicians, and philosophers both lauding and lamenting being alone. Over the course of the lifespan, humans experience solitude for many different reasons and subjectively respond to solitude with a wide range of reactions and consequences. Some people may retreat to solitude as a respite from the stresses of life, for quiet contemplation, to foster creative impulses, or to commune with nature. Others may suffer the pain and loneliness of social isolation, withdrawing or being forcefully excluded from social interactions. Indeed, we all have and will experience different types of solitude in our lives.

The complex relationship we have with solitude and its multifaceted nature is reflected in our everyday language and culture. We can be alone in a crowd, alone with nature, or alone with our thoughts. Solitude can be differentially characterized along the full range of a continuum from a form of punishment (e.g., timeouts for children, solitary confinement for prisoners) to a less than ideal context (e.g., no man is an island, one is the loneliest number, misery loves company), all the way to a desirable state (e.g., taking time for oneself, needing your space or alone time).

In this Handbook, we explore the many different faces of solitude, from perspectives inside and outside of psychology. In this introductory chapter, we consider some emergent themes in the historical study of solitude (see Figure 1.1) and provide an overview of the contents of this volume.

Figure 1.1 Emergent themes in the psychological study of solitude.

Emergent Themes

The study of solitude cuts across virtually all psychology subdisciplines and has been explored from multiple and diverse theoretical perspectives across the lifespan. Accordingly, it is not surprising that there remains competing hypotheses regarding the nature of solitude and its implications for well-being. Indeed, from our view, these fundamentally opposed differential characterizations of solitude represent the most pervasive theme in the historical study of solitude as a psychological construct.

In essence, this ongoing debate about the nature of solitude can be distilled down to an analysis of its costs versus benefits.

Solitude is bad

Social affiliations are relationships that have long been considered to be adaptive to the survival of the human species. Indeed, social groups offer several well-documented evolutionary advantages: e.g., protection against predators, cooperative hunting, and food sharing. The notion that solitude may have negative consequences has a long history and can literally be traced back to biblical times: Genesis 2:18, And the LORD God said “It is not good for the man to be alone”.

Within the field of psychology, Triplett (1898) demonstrated in one of the earliest psychology experiments that children performed a simple task (pulling back a fishing reel) more slowly when alone than when paired with other children performing the same task. Thus, at the turn of the century, it was clear that certain types of performance were hindered by solitude.

Developmental psychologists have also long suggested that excessive solitude during childhood can cause psychological pain and suffering, damage critically important family relationships, impede the development of the self-system, and prevent children from learning from their peers. The profound psychological impairments caused by extreme cases of social isolation in childhood, in cases such as Victor (Lane, 1976) or Genie (Curtiss, 1977), have emphasized that human contact is a basic necessity of development.

Social psychologists have also long considered the need for affiliation to be a basic human need. Early social psychology studies on small group dynamics, such as the Robbers Cave experiments, further highlighted the ways in which intergroup conflict can emerge and how out-group members can become quickly perceived negatively and in a stereotypical fashion and become mistreated. More recently, the need to belong theory has suggested that we all have a fundamental need to belong or be accepted and to maintain positive relationships with others, and that the failure to fulfill such needs can lead to significant physical and psychological distress. Relatedly, social neuroscientists now suggest that loneliness and social isolation can be bad not only for our psychological functioning and well-being but also for our physical health.

Finally, from the perspective of clinical psychology, social isolation has been traditionally viewed as a target criterion for intervention. In the first edition of the Diagnostic statistical manual of mental disorders, people who failed to relate effectively to others could be classified as suffering from either a psychotic disorder, such as schizophrenia; a psychoneurotic disorder, such as anxiety; or a personality disorder, such as an inadequate personality, characterized by inadaptability, ineptness, poor judgment, lack of physical and emotional stamina, and social incompatibility.

Schizoid personality disorder is described as another personality disorder characterized by social difficulties, specifically social avoidance. Interestingly, children with schizoid personalities are described as quiet, shy, and sensitive; adolescents were described as withdrawn, introverted, unsociable, and as shut-ins.

Solitude can be good

In stark contrast, and from a very different historical tradition, many theorists and researchers have long called attention to the benefits of being alone.

For example, a central question for ancient Greek and Roman philosophers was the role of the group in society and the extent to which the individual should be a part of and separate from the group in order to achieve wisdom, excellence, and happiness. Later, Montaigne acknowledged the difficulties of attaining solitude but argued that individuals should strive for experiences of solitude to escape pressures, dogma, conventional ways of thinking and being, vices, and the power of the group. For Montaigne, the fullest experiences of solitude could not be guaranteed by physical separation from others; instead, solitude involved a state of natural personal experience that could be accomplished both alone and in the company of others.

Related ideas can be found in religious writings and theology. For example, Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk who spent many years in solitude, passionately argued in several books and essays that solitude offered unique experiences for contemplation and prayer and that solitary retreats are necessary to achieve authentic connections with others.

Ideas about the benefits of solitude can also be found in the writings of Winnicott (1958). For Winnicott, solitude was an experience of aloneness afforded by a good enough facilitating environment and was a necessary precondition during infancy and childhood for later psychological maturity and self-discovery and self-realization.

In adulthood, spending time alone and away from others has also long been argued by philosophers, authors, and poets to be necessary for imaginative, creative, and artistic enterprises (e.g., Thoreau, 1854). In these perspectives, solitary experiences provide benefits when the individual chooses to be alone. However, personal stories of several accomplished authors, such as Beatrix Potter and Emily Dickinson, suggest that creativity and artistic talents may also develop in response to long periods of painful social isolation and rejection (Middleton, 1935; Storr, 1988).

Underlying mechanisms of solitude

Although the costs versus benefits debate regarding solitude is somewhat all-encompassing, nested within this broader distinction is a theme pertaining to the different mechanisms that may underlie our experiences of solitude. To begin with, it is important to distinguish between instances when solitude is other imposed versus sought after. Rubin (1982) was one of the first psychologists to describe these different processes as distinguishing between social isolation, where the individual is excluded, rejected, or ostracized by their peer group, and social withdrawal, where the individual removes themselves from opportunities for social interaction.

As we have previously discussed, there are long-studied negative consequences that accompany being socially isolated from one’s group of peers. Thus, we turn now to a consideration of varying views regarding why individuals might chose to withdraw into solitude.

Within the psychological literature, researchers have highlighted several different reasons why individuals may seek out solitude, including a desire for privacy (Pedersen, 1979), the pursuance of religious experiences (Hay & Morisey, 1978), the simple enjoyment of leisure activities (Purcell & Keller, 1989), and seeking solace from or avoiding upsetting situations (Larson, 1990).

Biological and neurophysiological processes have also been considered as putative sources of solitary behaviors. For example, the ancient Greeks and Romans argued that biologically based individual differences in character help to determine mood (such as fear and anxiety) and social behavioral patterns (such as the tendency to be sociable or not), ideas which were precursors to the contemporary study of child temperament (Kagan & Fox, 2006). As well, recent interest in the specific neural systems that may be involved in social behaviors can be traced to the late 1800s with the case of Phineas Gage, who injured his orbitofrontal cortex in a railroad construction accident and afterwards was reported to no longer adhere to social norms or to be able to sustain positive relationships (Macmillan, 2000).

Finally, there is also a notable history of research pertaining to motivations for social contact (e.g., Murphy, 1954; Murray, 1938), which has been construed as a primary substrate of human personality (Eysenck, 1947). An important distinction was made between social approach and social avoidance motivations (Lewinsky, 1941; Mehrabian & Ksionzky, 1970). It has since been argued that individual differences in these social motivations further discriminate different reasons why individuals might withdraw from social interactions. For example, a low social approach motivation, or solitropic orientation, is construed as a non-fearful preference for solitude in adults (Burger, 1995; Cheek & Buss, 1981; Leary, Herbst, & McCrary, 2001) and children (Asendorpf, 1990; Coplan, Rubin, Fox, Calkins, & Stewart, 1994). In contrast, the conflict between competing social approach and social avoidance motivations (i.e., approach-avoidance conflict) is thought to lead to shyness and social anxiety (Cheek & Melchior, 1990; Jones, Briggs, & Smith, 1986).

Developmental timing effects of solitude

Our final theme has to do with developmental timing or when (or at what age/developmental period) experiences of solitude occur. The costs of solitude are often assumed to be greater during childhood than in adolescence or adulthood given the now widely held notion that the young developing child requires a significant amount of positive peer interaction for healthy social, emotional, and social-cognitive development and well-being (Rubin, Bukowski, & Parker, 2006). This pervasive belief may explain, in part, why considerably more developmental research on the concomitants of social withdrawal has focused on children as compared to adolescents. In addition, it is during adolescence that increasing needs for and enjoyment of privacy and solitude are thought to emerge (Larson, 1990). For this reason, it has been posited that some of the negative peer consequences often associated with social withdrawal during childhood, such as peer rejection and peer victimization, may diminish during the adolescent developmental period (Bowker, Rubin, & Coplan, 2012). However, it has also long been argued that solitude at any age can foster loneliness and psychological angst, particularly if it is other-imposed.

As mentioned previously, social needs are thought to exist in individuals of all ages, with several social and developmental theories suggesting that psychological well-being is determined by whether social needs are satisfied. For example, Sullivan (1953) posited that all individuals have social needs but that with development, the nature of the social needs change (e.g., with puberty, needs for sexual relations emerge), as well as the type of relationship required to fulfill the needs (e.g., relationships with parents might satisfy early needs for tenderness; same-sex chumships or best friendships might satisfy needs for intimacy that emerge in early adolescence). Regardless of the developmental changes, however, Sullivan argued that if social needs were not fulfilled, significant negative self-system and psychological consequences would ensue. Consistent with these latter ideas are research findings that have identified loneliness, at any age, as one of the strongest risk factors for psychological illbeing (Heinrich & Gullone, 2006).

The debate as to when in development solitude might carry the greatest costs is yet to be resolved. However, it must also be acknowledged that the very nature of solitary experiences likely changes with age. For example, young children may retreat to their rooms, engage in solitary play in the company of peers, or find themselves forced to the periphery of social groups. Although other-imposed solitude might be manifested similarly at older ages (e.g., adolescents being forced to eat alone at lunchtime, adults being left out of afterwork gatherings), adolescents and adults have greater control over and increased opportunities for selfselected solitary experiences relative to children. For example, adolescents are sometimes left alone without parental supervision in their homes or able to take themselves to places of their choosing. Adults can also choose to travel alone, can engage in meditative and religious retreats, and can select relatively solitary occupations and ways to spend their free time. In contrast, there may come a time in the life of an older adult where they are significantly impeded in their ability to actively seek out social contacts. It remains to be seen how these potential differences in agency pertaining to solitude across the lifespan speak to the relation between solitude and well-being.

Final Comments: Solitude…Together?

It is somewhat ironic that the future study of solitude will likely be pursued within the context of an everexpanding and increasingly connected global social community. The chapter authors in this Handbook span 13 countries and represent only the very tip of the iceberg in terms of cross-cultural research in this area. There is growing evidence to suggest that both the meaning and impact of (different types of) solitude differ substantively across cultures (e.g., Chen & French, 2008). Accordingly, it is critically important to embed this psychological research within a larger cultural context.

Moreover, as evidenced by the chapters in the final section of this volume, psychologists have much to learn about the study of solitude from our colleagues in other disciplines. Indeed, we should expect interdisciplinary collaboration to eventually become the norm in these (and other) research areas. Such collaborations will allow us to further explore both the depth and breadth of our experiences of solitude and perhaps help to resolve some of the great debates in theory and research on solitude, such as when and why solitude causes harm or brings benefits.

Finally, rapidly evolving technological advances intend to connect all of us all of the time to social and informational networks. This inevitably leads to the question as to whether any of us will ever truly be alone in the future. It is certain that our relationship with solitude will necessarily evolve in the digital age. In this regard, it remains to be seen if the experience of solitude is itself doomed to become an archaic remnant of a past era.

*

from

The Handbook Of Solitude. Psychological Perspectives on Social Isolation, Social Withdrawal, and Being Alone.

get it at Amazon.com

Designers push limits with first 3D-printed concrete housing project – Colleen Hawkes * Chinese Company Constructs the World’s Tallest 3D Printed Building – Rory Stott.

3D printing of concrete is a potential game changer in the building industry. Besides the ability to construct almost any shape, it also enables architects to design very fine concrete structures.

Work will start this year on the world’s first 3D-printed concrete house to be built and occupied.

It will be a single-storey house and it’s expected to be ready for occupation in the first half of 2019.

Eventually, there will be five futuristic houses in the Project Milestone development, which is in the city of Eindhoven in the Netherlands.

The other four houses in the development will be multi-storey houses. And all five houses will be subject to regular building regulations and they all will meet the demands of current-day occupants concerning comfort, lay-out, quality and pricing.

Project Milestone is a joint venture between the municipality of Eindhoven, Eindhoven University of Technology, contractor Van Wijnen, real estate manager Vesteda, materials company Saint Gobain-Weber Beamix and engineering firm Witteveen+Bos.

Vesteda, the prospective buyer, will let the houses to tenants.

The design of the houses is based on erratic blocks in a green landscape. The university says the irregular shape of the buildings can be realised thanks to one of the key features of 3D-printing: the ability to construct almost any shape.

”The design aims at a high level of quality and sustainability. For example, the houses will not have a natural gas connection, which is quite rare in the Netherlands.”

During the project, research on concrete printing will be done for new innovations. The five houses will be built consecutively, so every time these innovations and all lessons learnt can be applied in the next house.

The building elements of the first house will all be printed by the concrete printer at the university. It is the intention to gradually shift the whole construction work to the construction site. The last house will be fully realised on site, including the print work.

Eindhoven is a hot spot for 3D-concrete printing, with the research group of concrete technology professor Theo Salet and its concrete printer as pivotal elements. The group recently printed world’s first 3D-printed concrete bridge for cyclists in the village of Gemert.

The university says 3D printing of concrete is a potential “game changer” in the building industry.

”Besides the ability to construct almost any shape, it also enables architects to design very fine concrete structures.

“Another new possibility is to print all kinds, qualities and colours of concrete, all in a single product. This enables integration of all sorts of functions in one and the same building element.”

The university says the process makes it easy to incorporate individual wishes for every single house, at minimum extra costs.

”Another important advantage is sustainability, as much less concrete is needed and hence much less cement, which reduces the C02 emissions originating from cement production.”

Chinese Company Constructs the World’s Tallest 3D Printed Building

Rory Stott

Once again, Chinese company WinSun Decoration Design Engineering Co has expanded the capabilities of 3D printing. After constructing ten houses in under twenty-four hours last year, now they are back with both the world’s tallest 3D printed building a five-story apartment block and a 1,100 square meter mansion with internal and external decoration to boot.

On display in Suzhou Industrial Park in Jiangsu province, the two buildings represent new frontiers for 3D printed construction, finally demonstrating its potential for creating more traditional building typologies and therefore its suitability for use by mainstream developers.

The buildings were created using the same 6.6 by 10 meter tall printer which builds up layers of an “ink” made from a mixture of glass fibre, steel, cement, hardening agents and recycled construction waste. With this technology, WinSun is able to print out large sections of a building, which are then assembled together much like prefabricated concrete designs to create the final building.

In a press conference attended by online 3D printing newspaper 3Ders.org, the Chief engineer of China Construction No.8 Engineering Bureau Ma Rongquan explained: “These two houses are in full compliance with the relevant national standards. It is safe, reliable, and features a good integration of architecture and decoration. But as there is no specific national standard for 3D printing architecture, we need to revise and improve a standard for the future.”

The company also announced a raft of signed contracts and future plans that will expand 3D printed buildings beyond the realm of construction experiments: the $160,000 mansion is the prototype for a set of ten that has been ordered by Taiwanese real estate company Tomson Group a third house on display at Suzhou Industrial Park was just one of 20,000 ordered by the Egyptian Government; they also announced the creation of Winsun Global, a collaboration with an American firm that will seek to expand into countries around the world with the aim of providing cheap and efficient homes for low-income families, particularly in Africa and the Middle East.

Mental Illness, Why Some and not Others? Gene-Environment Interaction and Differential Susceptibility – Scott Barry Kaufman * Gene-Environment Interaction in Psychological Traits and Disorders – Danielle M. Dick * Differential Susceptibility to Environmental Influences – Jay Belsky.

“Whether your story is about having met with emotional pain or physical pain, the important thing is to take the lid off of those feelings. When you keep your emotions repressed, that’s when the body starts to try to get your attention. Because you aren’t paying attention. Our childhood is stored up in our bodies, and one day, the body will present its bill.”

Bernie Siegel MD


In recent years numerous studies show the importance of gene-environment interactions in psychological development, but here’s the thing: we’re not just finding that the environment matters in determining whether mental illness exists. What we’re discovering is far more interesting and nuanced: Some of the very same genes that under certain environmental conditions are associated with some of the lowest lows of humanity, under supportive conditions are associated with the highest highs of human flourishing.

Evidence that adverse rearing environments exert negative effects particularly on children and adults presumed “vulnerable” for temperamental or genetic reasons may actually reflect something else: heightened susceptibility to the negative effects of risky environments and to the beneficial effects of supportive environments. Putatively vulnerable children and adults are especially susceptible to both positive and negative environmental effects.

Children rated highest on externalizing behavior problems by teachers across the primary school years were those who experienced the most harsh discipline prior to kindergarten entry and who were characterized by mothers at age 5 as being negatively reactive infants.

Susceptibility factors are the moderators of the relation between the environment and developmental outcome. Is it that negativity actually reflects a highly sensitive nervous system on which experience registers powerfully negatively when not regulated by the caregiver, but positively when coregulation occurs?
Referred to by some scientists as the “differential susceptibility hypothesis”, these findings shouldn’t be understated. They are revolutionary, and suggest a serious rethinking of the role of genes in the manifestation of our psychological traits and mental “illness”. Instead of all of our genes coding for particular psychological traits, it appears we have a variety of genetic mutations that are associated with sensitivity to the environment, for better and worse.

Known epigenetic modifications (cell specialization, X inactivation, genomic imprinting) all occur early in development and are stable. The discovery that epigenetic modifications continue to occur across development, and can be reversible and more dynamic, has represented a major paradigm shift in our understanding of environmental regulation of gene expression.

Glossary
Gene: Unit of heredity; a stretch of DNA that codes for a protein.
GxE: Gene-environment Interaction.
Epigenetics: Modifications to the genome that do not involve a change in nucleotide sequence.
Heritability: The proportion of total phenotypic variance that can be accounted for by genetic factors.
Logistic Regression: A statistical method for analyzing a dataset in which there are one or more independent variables that determine an outcome. The outcome is measured with a dichotomous variable (in which there are only two possible outcomes).
In logistic regression, the dependent variable is binary or dichotomous, i.e. it only contains data coded as 1 (TRUE, success, pregnant, etc.) or 0 (FALSE, failure, non-pregnant, etc.)
Transcription Factor: In molecular biology, a transcription factor (TF) (or sequence-specific DNA-binding factor) is a protein that controls the rate of transcription of genetic information from DNA to messenger RNA, by binding to a specific DNA sequence. The function of TFs is to regulate – turn on and off – genes in order to make sure that they are expressed in the right cell at the right time and in the right amount throughout the life of the cell and the organism.
Nucleotide: Organic molecules that are the building blocks of DNA and RNA. They also have functions related to cell signaling, metabolism, and enzyme reactions.
MZ: Monozygotic. Of twins derived from a single ovum (egg), and so identical.
DZ: Dizygotic. Of twins derived from two separate ova (eggs). Fraternal twin or nonidentical twin.
DNA: Deoxyribonucleic Acid.
RNA: Ribonucleic acid is a polymeric molecule essential in various biological roles in coding, decoding, regulation, and expression of genes. RNA and DNA are nucleic acids, and, along with lipids, proteins and carbohydrates, constitute the four major macromolecules essential for all known forms of life.
Polymorphism: A location in a gene that comes in multiple forms.
Allele: Natural variation in the genetic sequence; can be a change in a single nucleotide or longer stretches of DNA.
GWAS: Genome-wide Association Study.
ORs: Odds Ratios.
Phenotype: The observed outcome under study; can be the manifestation of both genetic and/or environmental factors.
Dichotomy: A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.
Chromosome: A single piece of coiled DNA containing many genes, regulatory elements, and other nucleotide sequences.

Gene-Environment Interaction and Differential Susceptibility

Scott Barry Kaufman

Only a few genetic mutations have been discovered so far that demonstrate differential susceptibility effects. Most of the genes that have been discovered contribute to the production of the neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin. Both of these biological systems contribute heavily to many aspects of engagement with the world, positive emotions, anxiety, depression, and mood fluctuations. So far, the evidence suggests (but is still tentative) that certain genetic variants under harsh and abusive conditions are associated with anxiety and depression, but that the very same genetic variants are associated with the lowest levels of anxiety, depression, and fear under supportive, nurturing conditions. There hasn’t been too much research looking at differential susceptibility effects on other systems that involve learning and exploration, however.

Enter a brand new study

Rising superstar Rachael Grazioplene and colleagues focused on the cholinergic system, a biological system crucially involved in neural plasticity and learning. Situations that activate the cholinergic system involve “expected uncertainty” such as going to a new country you’ve never been before and knowing that you’re going to face things you’ve never faced before. This stands in contrast to “unexpected uncertainty”, which occurs when your expectations are violated, such as thinking you’re going to a Las Vegas family friendly Cirque Du Soleil only to realize you’ve actually gotten a ticket to an all-male dance revue called “Thunder from Down Under” (I have no idea where that example came from). Those sorts of experiences are more strongly related to the neurotransmitter norepinephrine.

Since the cholinergic system is most active in situations when a person can predict that learning is possible, this makes the system a prime candidate for the differential susceptibility effect. As the researchers note, unpredictable and novel environments could function as either threats or incentive rewards. When the significance of the environment is uncertain, both caution and exploration are adaptive. Therefore, traits relating to anxiety or curiosity should be influenced by cholinergic genetic variants, with developmental experiences determining whether individuals find expected uncertainty either more threatening or more promising.

To test their hypothesis, they focused on a polymorphism in the CHRNA4 gene, which builds a certain kind of neural receptor that the neurotransmitter binds to. These acetylcholine receptors are distributed throughout the brain, and are especially involved in the functioning of dopamine in the striatum. Genetic differences in the CHRNA4 gene seem to change the sensitivity of the brain’s acetylcholine system because small structural changes in these receptors make acetylcholine binding more or less likely. Previous studies have shown associations between variation in the CHRNA4 gene and neuroticism as well as laboratory tests of attention and working memory.

The researchers looked at the functioning of this gene among a group of 614 children aged 8-13 enrolled in a week long day camp. Half of the children in the day camp were selected because they had been maltreated (sexual maltreatment), whereas the other half was carefully selected to come from the same socioeconomic status but not have experienced any maltreatment. This study provides the ideal experimental design and environmental conditions to test the differential susceptibility effect. Not only were the backgrounds of the children clearly defined, but also dramatically different from each other. Additionally, all children engaged in the same novel learning environment, an environment well suited for cholinergic functioning. What did they find?

Individuals with the T/T variation of the CHRNA4 gene who were maltreated showed higher levels of anxiety (Neuroticism) compared to those with the C allele of this gene. They appeared to be more likely to learn with higher levels of uncertainty. In contrast, those with the T/T allele who were not maltreated were low in anxiety (Neuroticism) and high in curiosity (Openness to Experience). What’s more, this effect was independent of age, race, and sex.

These environments, the T/T allele (which is much rarer in the general population than the C allele) may be beneficial, bringing out lower levels of anxiety and increased curiosity in response to situations containing expected uncertainty.

These results are certainly exciting, but a few important caveats are in order. For one thing, the T/T genotype is very rare in the general population, which makes it all the more important for future studies to attempt to replicate these findings. Also, we’re talking vanishingly small effects here. The CHRNA4 variant only explained at most 1% of the variation in neuroticism and openness to experience. So we shouldn’t go around trying to predict individual people’s futures based on knowledge of a single gene and a single environment.

Scientifically speaking though, this level of prediction is expected based on the fact that all of our psychological dispositions are massively polymorphic (consists of many interacting genes). Both gene-gene and gene-environment interactions must be taken into account.

Indeed, recent research found that the more sensitivity (“plasticity”) genes relating to the dopamine and serotonin systems adolescent males carried, the less selfregulation they displayed under unsupportive parenting conditions. In line with the differential susceptibility effect, the reverse was also found: higher levels of selfregulation were displayed by the adolescent males carrying more senstivity genes when they were reared under supportive parenting conditions.

The findings by Grazioplene and colleagues add to a growing literature on acetylcholine’s role in the emergence of schizophrenia and mood disorders. As the researcher’s note, these findings, while small in effect, may have maltreatment is a known risk factor for many psychiatric disorders. Children with the T/T genotype of CHRNA4 rsl 044396 may be more likely to learn fearful responses in harsh and abusive environments, but children with the very same genotype may be more likely to display curiosity and engagement in response to uncertainty under normal or supportive conditions.

While it’s profoundly difficult predicting the developmental trajectory of any single individual, this research suggests we can influence the odds that people will retreat within themselves or unleash the fundamentally human drive to explore and create.

Gene-Environment Interaction in Psychological Traits and Disorders

Danielle M. Dick

There has been an explosion of interest in studying gene-environment interactions (GxE) as they relate to the development of psychopathology. In this article, I review different methodologies to study gene-environment interaction, providing an overview of methods from animal and human studies and illustrations of gene-environment interactions detected using these various methodologies. Gene-environment interaction studies that examine genetic influences as modeled latently (e.g., from family, twin, and adoption studies) are covered, as well as studies of measured genotypes.

Importantly, the explosion of interest in gene-environment interactions has raised a number of challenges, including difficulties with differentiating various types of interactions, power, and the scaling of environmental measures, which have profound implications for detecting gene-environment interactions. Taking research on gene-environment interactions to the next level will necessitate close collaborations between psychologists and geneticists so that each field can take advantage of the knowledge base of the other.

INTRODUCTION

Gene-environment interaction (GxE) has become a hot topic of research, with an exponential increase in interest in this area in the past decade. Consider that PubMed lists only 24 citations for “gene environment interaction” prior to the year 2000, but nearly four times that many in the first half of the year 2010 alone! The projected publications on gene-environment interaction for 2008–2010 are on track to constitute more than 40% of the total number of publications on gene-environment interaction indexed in PubMed.

Where does all this interest stem from? It may, in part, reflect a merging of interests from fields that were traditionally at odds with one another. Historically, there was a perception that behavior geneticists focused on genetic influences on behavior at the expense of studying environmental influences and that developmental psychologists focused on environmental influences and largely ignored genetic factors. Although this criticism is not entirely founded on the part of either field, methodological and ideological differences between these respective fields meant that genetic and environmental influences were traditionally studied in isolation.

More recently, there has been recognition on the part of both of these fields that both genetic and environmental influences are critical components to developmental outcome and that it is far more fruitful to attempt to understand how these factors come together to impact psychological outcomes than to argue about which one is more important. As Kendler and Eaves argued in their article on the joint effect of genes and environments, published more than two decades ago:

It is our conviction that a complete understanding of the etiology of most psychiatric disorders will require an understanding of the relevant genetic risk factors, the relevant environmental risk factors, and the ways in which these two risk factors interact. Such understanding will only arise from research in which the important environmental variables are measured in a genetically informative design. Such research will require a synthesis of research traditions within psychiatry that have often been at odds with one another in the past. This interaction between the research tradition that has focused on the genetic etiology of psychiatric illness and that which has emphasized environmental causation will undoubtedly be to the benefit of both. (Kendler & Eaves 1986, p. 288)

The PubMed data showing an exponential increase in published papers on gene-environment interaction suggest that that day has arrived. This has been facilitated by the rapid advances that have taken place in the field of genetics, making the incorporation of genetic components into traditional psychological studies a relatively easy and inexpensive endeavor. But with this surge of interest in gene-environment interaction, a number of new complications have emerged, and the study of gene-environment interaction faces new challenges, including a recent backlash against studying gene-environment interaction (Risch et al. 2009). Addressing these challenges will be critical to moving research on gene-environment interaction forward in a productive way.

In this article, I first review different study designs for detecting gene-environment interaction, providing an overview of methods from animal and human studies. I cover gene-environment interaction studies that examine genetic influences as modeled latently as well as studies of measured genotypes. In the study of latent gene-environment interaction, specific genotypes are not measured, but rather genetic influence is inferred based on observed correlations between people who have different degrees of genetic and environmental sharing. Thus, latent gene-environment interaction studies examine the aggregate effects of genes rather than any one specific gene.

Molecular genetic studies, in contrast, have generally focused on one specific gene of interest at a time. Relevant examples of gene-environment interaction across these different methodologies are provided, though these are meant to be more illustrative than exhaustive, intended to introduce the reader to relevant studies and findings generated across these various designs.

Subsequently I review more conceptual issues surrounding the study of gene-environment interaction, covering the nature of gene-environment interaction effects as well as the challenges facing the study of gene-environment interaction, such as difficulties with differentiating various types of interactions, and how issues such as the scaling of environmental measures can have profound implications for studying gene-environment interaction.

I include an overview of epigenetics, a relatively new area of study that provides a potential biological mechanism by which the environment can moderate gene expression and affect behavior.

Finally, I conclude with recommendations for future directions and how we can take research on gene-environment interaction to the next level.

DEFINING GENE-ENVIRONMENT INTERACTION AND DIFFERENTIATING GENE-ENVIRONMENT CORRELATION

It is important to first address some aspects of terminology surrounding the study of gene-environment interaction. In lay terms, the phrase gene-environment interaction is often used to mean that both genes and environments are important. In statistical terms, this does not necessarily indicate an interaction but could be consistent with an additive model, in which there are main effects of the environment and main effects of genes.

But in a statistical sense an interaction is a very specific thing, referring to a situation in which the effect of one variable cannot be understood without taking into account the other variable. Their effects are not independent. When we refer to gene-environment interaction in a statistical sense, we are referring to a situation in which the effect of genes depends on the environment and/or the effect of the environment depends on genotype. We note that these two alternative conceptualizations of gene-environment interaction are indistinguishable statistically. It is this statistical definition of gene-environment interaction that is the primary focus of this review (except where otherwise noted).

It is also important to note that genetic and environmental influences are not necessarily independent factors. That is to say that although some environmental influences may be largely random, such as experiencing a natural disaster, many environmental influences are not entirely random (Kendler et al. 1993).

This phenomenon is called gene-environment correlation.

Three specific ways by which genes may exert an effect on the environment have been delineated (Plomin et al. 1977, Scarr & McCartney 1983):

(a) Passive gene-environment correlation refers to the fact that among biologically related relatives (i.e., nonadoptive families), parents provide not only their children’s genotypes but also their rearing environment. Therefore, the child’s genotype and home environment are correlated.

(b) Evocative gene-environment correlation refers to the idea that individuals’ genotypes influence the responses they receive from others. For example, a child who is predisposed to having an outgoing, cheerful disposition might be more likely to receive positive attention from others than a child who is predisposed to timidity and tears. A person with a grumpy, abrasive temperament is more likely to evoke unpleasant responses from coworkers and others with whom he/she interacts than is a cheerful, friendly person. Thus, evocative gene-environment correlation can influence the way an individual experiences the world.

(c) Active gene-environment correlation refers to the fact that an individual actively selects certain environments and takes away different things from his/her environment, and these processes are influenced by an individual’s genotype. Therefore, an individual predisposed to high sensation seeking may be more prone to attend parties and meet new people, thereby actively influencing the environments he/she experiences.

Evidence exists in the literature for each of these processes. The important point is that many sources of behavioral influence that we might consider “environmental” are actually under a degree of genetic influence (Kendler & Baker 2007), so often genetic and environmental influences do not represent independent sources of influence. This also makes it difficult to determine whether the genes or the environment is the causal agent. If, for example, individuals are genetically predisposed toward sensation seeking, and this makes them more likely to spend time in bars (a gene-environment correlation), and this increases their risk for alcohol problems, are the predisposing sensation-seeking genes or the bar environment the causal agent?

In actuality, the question is moot, they both played a role; it is much more informative to try to understand the pathways of risk than to ask whether the genes or the environment was the critical factor. Though this review focuses on gene-environment interaction, it is important for the reader to be aware that this is but one process by which genetic and environmental influences are intertwined. Additionally, gene-environment correlation must be taken into account when studying gene-environment interaction, a point that is mentioned again later in this review. Excellent reviews covering the nature and importance of gene-environment correlation also exist (Kendler 2011).

METHODS FOR STUDYING GENE-ENVIRONMENT INTERACTION

Animal Research

Perhaps the most straightforward method for detecting gene-environment interaction is found in animal experimentation: Different genetic strains of animals can be subjected to different environments to directly test for gene-environment interaction. The key advantage of animal studies is that environmental exposure can be made random to genotype, eliminating gene-environment correlation and associated problems with interpretation.

The most widely cited example of this line of research is Cooper and Zubek’s 1958 experiment, in which rats were selectively bred to perform differently in a maze-running experiment (Cooper & Zubek 1958). Under standard environmental conditions, one group of rats consistently performed with few errors (“maze bright”), while a second group committed many errors (“maze dull”). These selectively bred rats were then exposed to various environmental conditions: an enriched condition, in which rats were reared in brightly colored cages with many moveable objects, or a restricted condition, in which there were no colors or toys. The enriched condition had no effect on the maze bright rats, although it substantially improved the performance of the maze dull rats, such that there was no difference between the groups.

Conversely, the restrictive environment did not affect the performance of the maze dull rats, but it substantially diminished the performance of the maze bright rats, again yielding no difference between the groups and demonstrating a powerful gene-environment interaction.

A series of experiments conducted by Henderson on inbred strains of mice, in which environmental enrichment was manipulated, also provides evidence for gene-environment interaction on several behavioral tasks (Henderson 1970, 1972). These studies laid the foundation for many future studies, which collectively demonstrate that environmental variation can have considerable differential impact on outcome depending on the genetic make-up of the animal (Wahlsten et al. 2003).

However, animal studies are not without their limitations. Gene-environment interaction effects detected in animal studies are still subject to the problem of scale (Mather & Jinks 1982), as discussed in greater detail later in this review.

Human Research

Traditional behavior genetic designs

Demonstrating gene-environment interaction in humans has been considerably more difficult where ethical constraints require researchers to make use of natural experiments so environmental exposures are not random. Three traditional study designs have been used to demonstrate genetic influence on behavior: family studies, adoption studies, and twin studies. These designs have been used to detect gene-environment interaction also, and each is discussed in turn.

Family studies

Demonstration that a behavior aggregates in families is the first step in establishing a genetic basis for a disorder (Hewitt & Turner 1995). Decreasing similarity with decreasing degrees of relatedness lends support to genetic influence on a behavior (Gottesman 1991). This is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for heritability. Similarity among family members is due both to shared genes and shared environment; family studies cannot tease apart these two sources of variance to determine whether familiality is due to genetic or common environmental causes (Sherman et al. 1997).

However, family studies provide a powerful method for identifying gene-environment interaction. By comparing high-risk children, identified as such by the presence of psychopathology in their parents, with a control group of low-risk individuals, it is possible to test the effects of environmental characteristics on individuals varying in genetic risk (Cannon et al. 1990).

In a high-risk study of Danish children with schizophrenic mothers and matched controls, institutional rearing was associated with an elevated risk of schizophrenia only among those children with a genetic predisposition (Cannon et al. 1990). When these subjects were further classified on genetic risk as having one or two affected parents, a significant interaction emerged between degree of genetic risk and birth complications in predicting ventricle enlargement: The relationship between obstetric complications and ventricular enlargement was greater in the group of individuals with one affected parent as compared to controls, and greater still in the group of individuals with two affected parents (Cannon et al. 1993). Another study also found that among individuals at high risk for schizophrenia, experiencing obstetric complications was related to an earlier hospitalization (Malaspina et al. 1999).

Another creative method has made use of the natural experiment of family migration to demonstrate gene-environment interaction: The high rate of schizophrenia among African-Caribbean individuals who emigrated to the United Kingdom is presumed to result from gene-environment interaction. Parents and siblings of first-generation African-Caribbean probands have risks of schizophrenia similar to those for white individuals in the area. However, the siblings of second-generation African-Caribbean probands have markedly elevated rates of schizophrenia, suggesting that the increase in schizophrenia rates is due to an interaction between genetic predispositions and stressful environmental factors encountered by this population (Malaspina et al. 1999, Moldin & Gottesman 1997).

Although family studies provide a powerful design for demonstrating gene-environment interaction, there are limitations to their utility. High-risk studies are very expensive to conduct because they require the examination of individuals over a long period of time. Additionally, a large number of high-risk individuals must be studied in order to obtain a sufficient number of individuals who eventually become affected, due to the low base rate of most mental disorders. Because of these limitations, few examples of high-risk studies exist.

Adoption studies

Adoption and twin studies are able to clarify the extent to which similarity among family members is due to shared genes versus shared environment. In their simplest form, adoption studies involve comparing the extent to which adoptees resemble their biological relatives, with whom they share genes but not family environment, with the extent to which adoptees resemble their adoptive relatives, with whom they share family environment but not genes.

Adoption studies have been pivotal in advancing our understanding of the etiology of many disorders and drawing attention to the importance of genetic factors. For example, Heston’s historic adoption study was critical in dispelling the myth of schizophrenogenic mothers in favor of a genetic transmission explaining the familiality of schizophrenia (Heston & Denney 1967).

Furthermore, adoption studies provide a powerful method of detecting gene-environment interactions and have been called the human analogue of strain-by-treatment animal studies (Plomin & Hershberger 1991). The genotype of adopted children is inferred from their biological parents, and the environment is measured in the adoptive home. Individuals thought to be at genetic risk for a disorder, but reared in adoptive homes with different environments, are compared to each other and to control adoptees.

This methodology has been employed by a number of research groups to document gene-environment interactions in a variety of clinical disorders: In a series of Iowa adoption studies, Cadoret and colleagues demonstrated that a genetic predisposition to alcohol abuse predicted major depression in females only among adoptees who also experienced a disturbed environment, as defined by psychopathology, divorce, or legal problems among the adoptive parents (Cadoret et al. 1996).

In another study, depression scores and manic symptoms were found to be higher among individuals with a genetic predisposition and a later age of adoption (suggesting a more transient and stressful childhood) than among those with only a genetic predisposition (Cadoret et al. 1990).

In an adoption study of Swedish men, mild and severe alcohol abuse were more prevalent only among men who had both a genetic predisposition and more disadvantaged adoptive environments (Cloninger et al. 1981).

The Finnish Adoptive Family Study of Schizophrenia found that high genetic risk was associated with increased risk of schizophrenic thought disorder only when combined with communication deviance in the adoptive family (Wahlberg et al. 1997).

Additionally, the adoptees had a greater risk of psychological disturbance, defined as neuroticism, personality disorders, and psychoticism, when the adoptive family environment was disturbed (Tienari et al. 1990).

These studies have demonstrated that genetic predispositions for a number of psychiatric disorders interact with environmental influences to manifest disorder.

However, adoption studies suffer from a number of methodological limitations. Adoptive parents and biological parents of adoptees are often not representative of the general population. Adoptive parents tend to be socioeconomically advantaged and have lower rates of mental problems, due to the extensive screening procedures conducted by adoption agencies (Kendler 1993). Biological parents of adoptees tend to be atypical, as well, but in the opposite way. Additionally, selective placement by adoption agencies is confounding the clear-cut separation between genetic and environmental effects by matching adoptees and adoptive parents on demographics, such as race and religion. An increasing number of adoptions are also allowing contact between the biological parents and adoptive children, further confounding the traditional genetic and environmental separation that made adoption studies useful for genetically informative research.

Finally, greater contraceptive use is making adoption increasingly rare (Martin et al. 1997). Accordingly, this research strategy has become increasingly challenging, though a number of current adoption studies continue to make important contributions to the field (Leve et al. 2010; McGue et al. 1995, 1996).

Twin studies

Twins provide a number of ways to study gene-environment interaction. One such method is to study monozygotic twins reared apart (MZA). MZAs provide a unique opportunity to study the influence of different environments on identical genotypes. In the Swedish Adoption/Twin Study of Aging, data from 99 pairs of MZAs were tested for interactions between childhood rearing and adult personality (Bergeman et al. 1988).

Several significant interactions emerged. In some cases, the environment had a stronger impact on individuals genetically predisposed to be low on a given trait (based on the cotwin’s score). For example, individuals high in extraversion expressed the trait regardless of the environment; however, individuals predisposed to low extraversion had even lower scores in the presence of a controlling family.

In other traits, the environment had a greater impact on individuals genetically predisposed to be high on the trait: Individuals predisposed to impulsivity were even more impulsive in a conflictual family environment; individuals low on impulsivity were not affected.

Finally, some environments influenced both individuals who were high and low on a given trait, but in opposite directions: Families that were more involved masked genetic differences between individuals predisposed toward high or low neuroticism, but greater genetic variation emerged in less controlling families.

The implementation of population-based twin studies, inclusion of measured environments into twin studies, and advances in biometrical modeling techniques for twin data made it possible to study gene-environment interaction within the framework of the classic twin study. Traditional twin studies involve comparisons of monozygotic (MZ) and dizy-gotic (DZ) twins reared together. MZ twins share all of their genetic variation, whereas DZ twins share on average 50% of their genetic make-up; however, both types of twins are age-matched siblings sharing their family environments. This allows heritability, or the proportion of variance attributed to additive genetic effects, to be estimated by (a) doubling the difference between the correlation found between MZ twins and the correlation found between DZ twins, for quantitative traits, or ( b ) comparing concordance rates between MZs and DZs, for qualitative disorders (McGue & Bouchard 1998).

Biometrical model-fitting made it possible for researchers to address increasingly sophisticated research questions by allowing one to statistically specify predictions made by various hypotheses and to compare models testing competing hypotheses. By modeling data from subjects who vary on exposure to a specified environment, one could test whether there is differential expression of genetic influences in different environments.

Early examples of gene-environment interaction in twin models necessitated “grouping” environments to fit multiple group models. The basic idea was simple: Fit models to data for people in environment 1 and environment 2 separately and then test whether there were significant differences in the importance of genetic and environmental factors across the groups using basic structural equation modeling techniques. In an early example of gene-environment interaction, data from the Australian twin register were used to test whether the relative importance of genetic effects on alcohol consumption varied as a function of marital status, and in fact they did (Heath et al. 1989).

Having a marriage-like relationship reduced the impact of genetic influences on drinking: Among the younger sample of twins, genetic liability accounted for but half as much variance in drinking among married women (31%) as among unmarried women (60%). A parallel effect was found among the adult twins: Genetic effects accounted for less than 60% of the variance in married respondents but more than 76% in unmarried respondents (Heath et al. 1989).

In an independent sample of Dutch twins, religiosity was also shown to moderate genetic and environmental influences on alcohol use initiation in females (with nonsignificant trends in the same direction for males): In females without a religious upbringing, genetic influences accounted for 40% of the variance in alcohol use initiation compared to 0% in religiously raised females. Shared environmental influences were far more important in the religious females (Koopmans et al. 1999).

In data from our population-based Finnish twin sample, we also found that regional residency moderates the impact of genetic and environmental influences on alcohol use. Genetic effects played a larger role in longitudinal drinking patterns from late adolescence to early adulthood among individuals residing in urban settings, whereas common environmental effects exerted a greater in-fluence across this age range among individuals in rural settings (Rose et al. 2001).

When one has pairs discordant for exposure, it is also possible to ask about genetic correlation between traits displayed in different environments.

One obvious limitation of modeling gene-environment interaction in this way was that it constrained investigation to environments that fell into natural groupings (e.g., married/unmarried; urban/rural) or it forced investigators to create groups based on environments that may actually be more continuous in nature (e.g., religiosity). In the first extension of this work to quasi-continuous environmental moderation, we developed a model that allowed genetic and environmental influences to vary as a function of a continuous environmental moderator and used this model to follow-up on the urban/rural interaction reported previously (Dick et al. 2001).

We believed it likely that the urban/rural moderation effect reflected a composite of different processes at work. Accordingly, we expanded the analyses to incorporate more specific information about neighborhood environments, using government-collected information about the specific municipalities in which the twins resided (Dick et al. 2001). We found that genetic influences were stronger in environments characterized by higher rates of migration in and out of the municipality; conversely, shared environmental influences predominated in local communities characterized by little migration.

We also found that genetic predispositions were stronger in communities composed of a higher percentage of young adults slightly older than our age-18 Finnish twins and in regions where there were higher alcohol sales.

Further, the magnitude of genetic moderation observed in these models that allowed for variation as a function of a quasi-continuous environmental moderator was striking, with nearly a fivefold difference in the magnitude of genetic effects between environmental extremes in some cases.

The publication of a paper the following year (Purcell 2002) that provided straightforward scripts for continuous gene-environment interaction models using the most widely used program for twin analyses, Mx (Neale 2000), led to a surge of papers studying gene-environment interaction in the twin literature. These scripts also offered the advantage of being able to take into account gene-environment correlation in the context of gene-environment interaction. This was an important advance because previous examples of gene-environment interaction in twin models had been limited to environments that showed no evidence of genetic effects so as to avoid the confounding of gene-environment interaction with gene-environment correlation.

Using these models, we have demonstrated that genetic influences on adolescent substance use are enhanced in environments with lower parental monitoring (Dick et al. 2007c) and in the presence of substance-using friends (Dick et al. 2007b). Similar effects have been demonstrated for more general externalizing behavior: Genetic influences on antisocial behavior were higher in the presence of delinquent peers (Button et al. 2007) and in environments characterized by high parental negativity (Feinberg et al. 2007), low parental warmth (Feinberg et al. 2007), and high paternal punitive discipline (Button et al. 2008).

Further, in an extension of the socioregional-moderating effects observed on age-18 alcohol use, we found a parallel moderating role of these socioregional variables on age-14 behavior problems in girls in a younger Finnish twin sample. Genetic influences assumed greater importance in urban settings, communities with greater migration, and communities with a higher percentage of slightly older adolescents.

Other psychological outcomes have also yielded significant evidence of gene-environment interaction effects in the twin literature. For example, a moderating effect, parallel to that reported for alcohol consumption above, has been reported for depression symptoms (Heath et al. 1998) in females. A marriage-like relationship reduced the influence of genetic liability to depression symptoms, paralleling the effect found for alcohol consumption: Genetic factors accounted for 29% of the variance in depression scores among married women, but for 42% of the variance in young unmarried females and 51% of the variance in older unmarried females (Heath et al. 1998).

Life events were also found to moderate the impact of factors influencing depression in females (Kendler et al. 1991). Genetic and/or shared environmental influences were significantly more important in influencing depression in high-stress than in low-stress environments, as defined by a median split on a life-event inventory, although there was insufficient power to determine whether the moderating influence was on genetic or environmental effects.

More than simply accumulating examples of moderation of genetic influence by environmental factors, efforts have been made to integrate this work into theoretical frameworks surrounding the etiology of different clinical conditions. This is critical if science is to advance beyond individual observations to testable broad theories.

A 2005 review paper by Shanahan and Hofer suggested four processes by which social context may moderate the relative importance of genetic effects (Shanahan & Hofer 2005).

The environment may (a) trigger or (b) compensate for a genetic predisposition, (c) control the expression of a genetic predisposition, or (d ) enhance a genetic predisposition (referring to the accentuation of “positive” genetic predispositions).

These processes are not mutually exclusive and can represent different ends of a continuum. For example, the interaction between genetic susceptibility and life events may represent a situation whereby the experience of life events triggers a genetic susceptibility to depression. Conversely, “protective” environments, such as marriage-like relationships and low stress levels, can buffer against or reduce the impact of genetic predispositions to depressive problems.

Many different processes are likely involved in the gene-environment interactions observed for substance use and antisocial behavior. For example, family environment and peer substance use/delinquency likely constitute a spectrum of risk or protection, and family/friend environments that are at the “poor” extreme may trigger genetic predispositions toward substance use and antisocial behavior, whereas positive family and friend relationships may compensate for genetic predispositions toward substance use and antisocial behavior.

Social control also appears to be a particularly relevant process in substance use, as it is likely that being in a marriage-like relationship and/or being raised with a religious upbringing exert social norms that constrain behavior and thereby reduce genetic predispositions toward substance use.

Further, the availability of the substance also serves as a level of control over the ability to express genetic predispositions, and accordingly, the degree to which genetic influences will be apparent on an outcome at the population level. In a compelling illustration of this effect, Boardman and colleagues used twin data from the National Survey of Midlife Development in the United States and found a significant reduction in the importance of genetic influences on people who smoke regularly following legislation prohibiting smoking in public places (Boardman et al. 2010).

Molecular analyses

All of the analyses discussed thus far use latent, unmeasured indices of genetic influence to detect the possible presence of gene-environment interaction. This is largely because it was possible to test for the presence of latent genetic influence in humans (via comparisons of correlations between relatives with different degrees of genetic sharing) long before molecular genetics yielded the techniques necessary to identify specific genes influencing complex psychological disorders.

However, recent advances have made the collection of deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) and resultant genotyping relatively cheap and straightforward. Additionally, the publication of hig profile papers brought gene-environment interaction to the forefront of mainstream psychology. In a pair of papers published in Science in 2002 and 2003, respectively, Caspi and colleagues analyzed data from a prospective, longitudinal sample from a birth cohort from New Zealand, followed from birth through adulthood.

In the 2002 paper, they reported that a functional polymorphism in the gene encoding the neurotransmitter-metabolizing enzyme monoamine oxidase A (MAOA) moderated the effect of maltreatment: Males who carried the genotype conferring high levels of MAOA expression were less likely to develop antisocial problems when exposed to maltreatment (Caspi et al. 2002). In the 2003 paper, they reported that a functional polymorphism in the promoter region of the serotonin transporter gene (5-HTT) was found to moderate the influence of stressful life events on depression. Individuals carrying the short allele of the 5-HTT promoter polymorphism exhibited more depressive symptoms, diagnosable depression, and suicidality in relation to stressful life events than did individuals homozygous for the long allele (Caspi et al. 2003).

Both studies were significant in demonstrating that genetic variation can moderate individuals’ sensitivity to environmental events.

These studies sparked a multitude of reports that aimed to replicate, or to further extend and explore, the findings of the original papers, resulting in huge literatures surrounding each reported gene-environment interaction in the years since the original publications (e.g., Edwards et al. 2009, Enoch et al. 2010, Frazzetto et al. 2007, Kim-Cohen et al. 2006, McDermott et al. 2009,Prom-Wormley et al. 2009, Vanyukov et al. 2007, Weder et al. 2009). It is beyond the scope of this review to detail these studies; however, of note was the publication in 2009 of a highly publicized meta-analysis of the interaction between 5-HTT, stressful life events, and risk of depression that concluded there was “no evidence that the serotonin transporter genotype alone or in interaction with stressful life events is associated with an elevated risk of depression in men alone, women alone, or in both sexes combined” (Risch et al. 2009). Further, the authors were critical of the rapid embracing of gene-environment interaction and the substantial resources that have been devoted to this research.

The paper stimulated considerable backlash against the study of gene-environment interactions, and the pendulum appeared to be swinging back the other direction. However, a recent review by Caspi and colleagues entitled “Genetic Sensitivity to the Environment: The Case of the Serotonin Transporter Gene and Its Implications for Studying Complex Diseases and Traits” highlighted the fact that evidence for involvement of 5-HTT in stress sensitivity comes from at least four different types of studies, including observational studies in humans, experimental neuroscience studies, studies in nonhuman primates, and studies of 5HTT mutations in rodents (Caspi et al. 2010).

Further, the authors made the distinction between different cultures of evaluating gene-environment interactions: a purely statistical (theory-free) approach that relies wholly on meta-analysis (e.g., such as that taken by Risch et al. 2009) versus a construct-validity (theory-guided) approach that looks for a nomological network of convergent evidence, such as the approach that they took.

It is likely that this distinction also reflects differences in training and emphasis across different fields. The most cutting-edge genetic strategies at any given point, though they have changed drastically and rapidly over the past several decades, have generally involved atheoretical methods for gene identification (Neale et al. 2008). This was true of early linkage analyses, where ~400 to 1,000 markers were scanned across the genome to search for chromosomal regions that were shared by affected family members, suggesting there may be a gene in that region that harbored risk for the particular outcome under study. This allowed geneticists to search for genes without having to know anything about the underlying biology, with the ideas that the identification of risk genes would be informative as to etiological processes and that our understanding of the biology of most psychiatric conditions is limited.

Although it is now recognized that linkage studies were underpowered to detect genes of small effect, such as those now thought to be operating in psychiatric conditions, this atheoretical approach was retained in the next generation of gene-finding methods that replaced linkage, the implementation of genome-wide association studies (GWAS) (Cardon 2006). GWAS also have the general framework of scanning markers located across the entire genome in an effort to detect association between genetic markers and disease status; however, in GWAS over a million markers (or more, on the newest genetic platforms) are analyzed.

The next technique on the horizon is sequencing, in which entire stretches of DNA are sequenced to know the exact base pair sequence for a given region (McKenna et al. 2010).

From linkage to sequencing, common across all these techniques is an atheoretical framework for finding genes that necessarily involves conducting very large numbers of tests. Accordingly, there has been great emphasis in the field of genetics on correction for multiple testing (van den Oord 2007). In addition, the estimated magnitude of effect size of genetic variants thought to influence complex behavioral outcomes has been continually shifted downward as studies that were sufficiently powered to detect effect sizes previously thought to be reasonable have failed to generate positive findings (Manolio et al. 2009). GWAS have led the field to believe that genes influencing complex behavioral outcomes likely have odds ratios (ORs) on the order of magnitude of 1.1. This has led to a need for incredibly large sample sizes, requiring meta-analytic GWAS efforts with several tens of thousands of subjects (Landi et al. 2009, Lindgren et al. 2009).

It is important to note there has been increasing attention to the topic of gene-environment interaction from geneticists (Engelman et al. 2009). This likely reflects, in part, frustration and difficulty with identifying genes that impact complex psychiatric outcomes. Several hypotheses have been put forth as possible explanations for the failure to robustly detect genes involved in psychiatric outcomes, including a genetic model involving far more genes, each of very small effect, than was previously recognized, and failure to pay adequate attention to rare variants, copy number variants, and gene-environment interaction (Manolio et al. 2009).

Accordingly, gene-environment interaction is being discussed far more in the area of gene finding than in years past; however, these discussions often involve atheoretical approaches and center on methods to adequately detect gene-environment interaction in the presence of extensive multiple testing (Gauderman 2002, Gauderman et al. 2010). The papers by Risch et al. (2009) and Caspi et al. (2010) on the interaction between 5-HTT, life stress, and depression highlight the conceptual, theoretical, and practical differences that continue to exist between the fields of genetics and psychology surrounding the identification of gene-environment interaction effects.

THE NATURE OF GENE-ENVIRONMENT INTERACTION

An important consideration in the study of gene-environment interaction is the nature, or shape, of the interaction that one hypothesizes. There are two primary types of interactions.

One type of interaction is the fan-shaped interaction. In this type of interaction, the influence of genotype is greater in one environmental context than in another. This is the kind of interaction that is hypothesized by a diathesis-stress framework, whereby genetic influences become more apparent, i.e., are more strongly related to outcome, in the presence of negative environmental conditions. There is a reduced (or no) association of genotype with outcome in the absence of exposure to particular environmental conditions.

The literature surrounding depression and life events would be an example of a hypothesized fan-shaped interaction: When life stressors are encountered, genetically vulnerable individuals are more prone to developing depression, whereas in the absence of life stressors, these individuals may be no more likely to develop depression. In essence, it is only when adverse environmental conditions are experienced that the genes “come on-line.”

Gene-environment interactions in the area of adolescent substance use are also hypothesized to be fan-shaped, where some environmental conditions will allow greater opportunity to express genetic predispositions, allowing for more variation by genotype, and other environments will exert social control in such a way as to curb genetic expression (Shanahan & Hofer 2005), leading to reduced genetic variance.

Twin analyses yielding evidence of genetic influences being more or less important in different environmental contexts are generally suggestive of fan-shaped interactions. Changes in the overall heritability do not necessarily dictate that any one specific susceptibility gene will operate in a parallel manner; however, a change in heritability suggests that at least a good portion of the involved genes (assuming many genes of approximately equal and small effect) must be operating in that manner for a difference in heritability by environment to be detectable.

The diathesis-stress model has largely been the dominant model in psychiatry. Gene-finding efforts have focused on the search for vulnerability genes, and gene-environment interaction has been discussed in the context of these genetic effects becoming more or less important under particular environmental conditions.

Different types of gene-environment interactions.

More recently, an alternative framework has been proposed by Belsky and colleagues, the differential susceptibility hypothesis, in which the same individuals who are most adversely affected by negative environments may also be those who are most likely to benefit from positive environments. Rather than searching for “vulnerability genes” influencing psychiatric and behavioral outcomes, they propose the idea of “plasticity genes,” or genes involved in responsivity to environmental conditions (Belsky et al. 2009).

Belsky and colleagues reviewed the literatures surrounding gene-environment interactions associated with three widely studied candidate genes, MAOA, 5-HTT, and DRD4, and suggested that the results provide evidence for differential susceptibility associated with these genes (Belsky et al. 2009).

Their hypothesis is closely related to the concept of biological sensitivity to context (Ellis & Boyce 2008). The idea of biological sensitivity to context has its roots in evolutionary developmental biology, whereby selection pressures should favor genotypes that support a range of phenotypes in response to environmental conditions because this flexibility would be beneficial from the perspective of survival of the species. However, biological sensitivity to context has the potential for both positive effects under more highly supportive environmental conditions and negative effects in the presence of more negative environmental conditions. This theory has been most fully developed and discussed in the context of stress reactivity (Boyce & Ellis 2005), where it has been demonstrated that highly reactive children show disproportionate rates of morbidity when raised in adverse environments, but particularly low rates when raised in low-stress, highly supportive environments (Ellis et al. 2005). In these studies, high reactivity was defined by response to different laboratory challenges, and the authors noted that the underlying cellular mechanisms that would produce such responses are currently unknown, though genetic factors are likely to play a role (Ellis & Boyce 2008).

Although fan-shaped and crossover interactions are theoretically different, in practice, they can be quite difficult to differentiate. One can imagine several “variations on the theme” for both fan-shaped and crossover interactions. In general for a fan-shaped interaction, a main effect of genotype will be present as well as a main effect of the environment. There is a main effect of genotype at both environmental extremes; it is simply far stronger in environment 5 (far right side of the graph) as compared to environment 1 (far left side). But one could imagine a fan-shaped interaction where there was no genotypic effect at one extreme (e.g., the lines converge to the same phenotypic mean at environment).

Further, fan-shaped interactions can differ in the slope of the lines for each genotype, which indicate how much the environment is modifying genetic effects. In the crossover interaction shown above, the lines cross at environment 3 (i.e., in the middle). But crossover interactions can vary in the location of the crossover. It is possible that crossing over only occurs at the environmental extreme.

As previously noted, the crossing over of the genotypic groups in the Caspi et al. publications of the interactions between the 5-HTT gene, life events, and depression (Caspi et al. 2003) and between MAOA, maltreatment, and antisocial behavior (Caspi et al. 2002) occurred at the extreme low ends of the environmental measures, and the degree of crossing over was quite modest. Rather, the shape of the interactions (and the way the interactions were conceptualized in the papers) was largely fan-shaped, whereby certain genotypic groups showed stronger associations with outcome as a function of the environmental stressor.

Also, in both cases, the genetic variance was far greater under one environmental extreme than the other, rather than being approximately equivalent at both ends of the distribution, but with genotypic effects in opposite directions. In general, it is assumed that main effects of genotype will not be detected in crossover interactions, but this will actually depend on the frequency of the different levels of the environment. This is also true of fan-shaped interactions, but to a lesser degree.

Evaluating the relative importance, or frequency of existence, of each type of interaction is complicated by the fact that there is far more power to detect crossover interactions than fan-shaped interactions. Knowing that most of our genetic studies are likely underpowered, we would expect a preponderance of crossover effects to be detected as compared to fan-shaped effects purely as a statistical artifact. Further, even when a crossover effect is observed, power considerations can make it difficult to determine if it is “real.” For example, an interaction observed in our data between the gene CHRM2, parental monitoring, and adolescent externalizing behavior yielded consistent evidence for a gene-environment interaction, with a crossing of the observed regression lines. However, the mean differences by genotype were not significant at either end of the environmental continuum, so it is unclear whether the crossover reflected true differential susceptibility or simply overfitting of the data across the environmental levels containing the majority of the observations, which contributed to a crossing over of the regression lines at one environmental extreme (Dick et al. 2011).

Larger studies would have greater power to make these differentiations; however, there is the unfortunate paradox that the samples with the greatest depth of phenotypic information, allowing for more complex tests about risk associated with particular genes, usually have much smaller sample sizes due to the trade-off necessary to collect the rich phenotypic information. This is an important issue for gene-environment interaction studies in general: Most have been underpowered, and this raises concerns about the likelihood that detected effects are true positives. There are several freely available programs to estimate power (Gauderman 2002, Purcell et al. 2003), and it is critical that papers reporting gene-environment interaction effects (or a lack thereof) include information about the power of their sample in order to interpret the results.

Another widely contested issue is whether gene-environment interactions should be examined only when main effects of genotype are detected. Perhaps not surprisingly, this is the approach most commonly advocated by statistical geneticists (Risch et al. 2009) and that was recommended by the Psychiatric GWAS Consortium (Psychiatr. GWAS Consort. Steer. Comm. 2008). However, this strategy could preclude the detection of crossover interaction effects as well as gene-environment interactions that occur in the presence of relatively low-frequency environments. In addition, if genetic effects are conditional on environmental exposure, main effects of genotype could vary across samples, that is to say, a genetic effect could be detected in one sample and fail to replicate in another if the samples differ on environmental exposure.

Another issue with the detection and interpretation of gene-environment interaction effects involves the range of environments being studied. For example, if we assume that the five levels of the environment shown above represent the true full range of environments that exist, if a particular study only included individuals from environments 3–5, it would conclude that there is a fan-shaped gene-environment interaction. Belsky and colleagues (2009) have suggested this may be particularly problematic in the psychiatric literature because only in rare exceptions (Bakermans-Kranenburg & van Ijzendoorn 2006, Taylor et al. 2006) has the environment included both positive and negative ends of the spectrum. Rather, the absence of environmental stressors has usually constituted the “low” end of the environment, e.g., the absence of life stressors (Caspi et al. 2003) or the absence of maltreatment (Caspi et al. 2002). This could lead individuals to conclude there is a fan-shaped interaction because they are essentially failing to measure, with reference to figure above, environments 0-3, which represent the positive end of the environmental continuum. One can imagine a number of other incorrect conclusions that could be drawn about the nature of gene-environment interaction effects as a result of restricted range of environmental measures. For example, in B, measurement of individuals from environments 0-3 would lead one to conclude that genetic effects play a stronger role at lower levels of environmental exposure. Measurement of individuals from environments 3-5 would lead one to conclude that genetic effects play a stronger role at higher levels of exposure to the same environmental variable. In Figure A, if measurement of individuals was limited to environments 0-3, depending on sample size, there may be inadequate power to detect deviation from a purely additive genetic model, e.g., the slope of the genotypic lines may not be significantly different.

It is also important to note that not only are there several scenarios that would lead one to make incorrect conclusions about the nature of a gene-environment interaction effect, there are also scenarios that would lead one to conclude that a gene-environment interaction exists when it actually does not. Several of these are detailed in a sobering paper by my colleague Lindon Eaves, in which significant evidence for gene-environment interaction was detected quite frequently using standard regression methods, when the simulated data reflected strictly additive models (Eaves 2006). This was particularly problematic when using logistic regression where a dichotomous diagnosis was the outcome. The problem was further exaggerated when selected samples were analyzed.

An additional complication with evaluating gene-environment interactions in psychology is that often our environmental measures don’t have absolute scales of measurement. For example, what is the “real” metric for measuring a construct like parent-child bonding, or maltreatment, or stress? This becomes critical because fan-shaped interactions are very sensitive to scaling. Often a transformation of the scale scores will make the interaction disappear. What does it mean if the raw variable shows an interaction but the log transformation of the scale scores does not? Is the interaction real? Is one metric for measuring the environment a better reflection of the “real” nature of the environment than another?

Many of the environments of interest to psychologists do not have true metrics, such as those that exist for measures such as height, weight, or other physiological variables. This is an issue for the study of gene-environment interaction. It becomes even more problematic when you consider that logistic regression is the method commonly used to test for gene-environment interactions with dichotomous disease status outcomes. Logistic regression involves a logarithmic transformation of the probability of being affected. By definition, this changes the nature of the relationship between the variables being modeled. This compounds problems associated with gene-environment interactions being scale dependent.

EPIGENETICS: A POTENTIAL BIOLOGICAL MECHANISM FOR GENE-ENVIRONMENT INTERACTION

An enduring question remains in the study of gene-environment interaction: how does the environment “get under the skin”? Stated in another way:

What are the biological processes by which exposure to environmental events could affect outcome?

Epigenetics is one candidate mechanism. Excellent recent reviews on this topic exist (Meaney 2010, Zhang & Meaney 2010), and I provide a brief overview here.

It is important to note, however, that although epigenetics is increasingly discussed in the context of gene-environment interaction, it does not relate directly to gene-environment interaction in the statistical sense, as differentiated previously in this review. That is to say that epigenetic processes likely tell us something about the biological mechanisms by which the environment can affect gene expression and impact behavior, but they are not informative in terms of distinguishing between additive versus interactive environmental effects.

Although variability exists in defining the term, epigenetics generally refers to modifications to the genome that do not involve a change in nucleotide sequence. To understand this concept, let us review a bit about basic genetics.

The expression of a gene is influenced by transcription factors (proteins), which bind to specific sequences of DNA. It is through the binding of transcription factors that genes can be turned on or off. Epigenetic mechanisms involve changes to how readily transcription factors can access the DNA. Several different types of epigenetic changes are known to exist that involve different types of chemical changes that can regulate DNA transcription.

One epigenetic process that affects transcription binding is DNA methylation. DNA methylation involves the addition of a methyl group (CH3) onto a cytosine (one of the four base pairs that make up DNA). This leads to gene silencing because methylated DNA hinders the binding of transcription factors.

A second major regulatory mechanism is related to the configuration of DNA. DNA is wrapped around clusters of histone proteins to form nucleosomes. Together the nucleosomes of DNA and histone are organized into chromatin. When the chromatin is tightly condensed, it is difficult for transcription factors to reach the DNA, and the gene is silenced. In contrast, when the chromatin is opened, the gene can be activated and expressed. Accordingly, modifications to the histone proteins that form the core of the nucleosome can affect the initiation of transcription by affecting how readily transcription factors can access the DNA and bind to their appropriate sequence.

Epigenetic modifications of the genome have long been known to exist. For example, all cells in the body share the same DNA; accordingly, there must be a mechanism whereby different genes are active in liver cells than, for example, brain cells. The process of cell specialization involves silencing certain portions of the genome in a manner specific to each cell. DNA methylation is a mechanism known to be involved in cell specialization.

Another well known example of DNA methylation involves X-inactivation in females. Because females carry two copies of the X chromosome, one must be inactivated. The silencing of one copy of the X chromosome involves DNA methylation.

Genomic imprinting is another long established principle known to involve DNA methylation. In genomic imprinting the expression of specific genes is determined by the parent of origin. For example, the copy of the gene inherited from the mother is silenced, while the copy inherited from the father is active (or vice versa). The silent copy is inactive through processes involving DNA methylation. These changes all involve epigenetic processes parallel to those currently attracting so much attention.

However, the difference is that these known epigenetic modifications (cell specialization, X inactivation, genomic imprinting) all occur early in development and are stable.

The discovery that epigenetic modifications continue to occur across development, and can be reversible and more dynamic, has represented a major paradigm shift in our understanding of environmental regulation of gene expression.

Animal studies have yielded compelling evidence that early environmental manipulations can be associated with long-term effects that persist into adulthood. For example, maternal licking and grooming in rats is known to have long-term influences on stress response and cognitive performance in their offspring (Champagne et al. 2008, Meaney 2010). Further, a series of studies conducted in macaque monkeys demonstrates that early rearing conditions can result in long-term increased aggression, more reactive stress response, altered neurotransmitter functioning, and structural brain changes (Stevens et al. 2009). These findings parallel research in humans that suggests that early life experiences can have long-term effects on child development (Loman & Gunnar 2010). Elegant work in animal models suggests that epigenetic changes may be involved in these associations (Meaney 2010, Zhang & Meaney 2010).

Evaluating epigenetic changes in humans is more difficult because epigenetic marks can be tissue specific. Access to human brain tissue is limited to postmortem studies of donated brains, which are generally unique and unrepresentative samples and must be interpreted in the context of those limitations. Nonetheless, a recent study of human brain samples from the Quebec Suicide Brain Bank found evidence of increased DNA methylation of the exon 1F promoter in hippocampal samples from suicide victims compared with controls, but only if suicide was accompanied with a history of childhood maltreatment (McGowan et al. 2009). Importantly, this paralleled epigenetic changes originally observed in rat brain in the ortholog of this locus.

Another line of evidence suggesting epigenetic changes that may be relevant in humans is the observation of increasing discordance in epigenetic marks in MZ twins across time. This is significant because MZ twins have identical genotypes, and therefore, differences between them are attributed to environmental influences. In a study by Fraga and colleagues (2005), MZ twins were found to be epigenetically indistinguishable during the early years of life, but older MZ twins exhibited remarkable differences in their epigenetic profiles. These findings suggest that epigenetic changes may be a mechanism by which environmental influences contribute to the differences in outcome observed for a variety of psychological traits of interest between genetically identical individuals.

The above studies complement a growing literature demonstrating differences in gene expression in humans as a function of environmental experience. One of the first studies to analyze the relationship between social factors and human gene expression compared healthy older adults who differed in the extent to which they felt socially connected to others (Cole et al. 2007). Using expression profiles obtained from blood cells, a number of genes were identified that showed systematically different levels of expression in people who reported feeling lonely and distant from others.

Interestingly, these effects were concentrated among genes that are involved in immune response.

The results provide a biological mechanism that could explain why socially isolated individuals show heightened vulnerability to diseases and illnesses related to immune function.

Importantly, they demonstrate that our social worlds can exert biologically significant effects on gene expression in humans (for a more extensive review, see Cole 2009).

CONCLUSIONS

This review has attempted to provide an overview of the study of gene-environment interaction, starting with early animal studies documenting gene-environment interaction, to demonstrations of similar effects in family, adoption, and twin studies.

Advances in twin modeling and the relative ease with which gene-environment interaction can now be modeled has led to a significant increase in the number of twin studies documenting changing importance of genetic influence across environmental contexts. There is now widespread documentation of gene-environment interaction effects across many clinical disorders (Thapar et al. 2007).

These findings have led to more integrated etiological models of the development of clinical outcomes. Further, since it is now relatively straightforward and inexpensive to collect DNA and conduct genotyping, there has been a surge of studies testing for gene-environment interaction with specific candidate genes.

Psychologists have embraced the incorporation of genetic components into their studies, and geneticists who focus on gene finding are now paying attention to the environment in an unprecedented way. However, now that the initial excitement surrounding gene-environment interaction has begun to wear off, a number of challenges involved in the study of gene-environment interaction are being recognized.

These include difficulties with interpreting interaction effects (or the lack thereof), due to issues surrounding the measurement and scaling of the environment, and statistical concerns surrounding modeling gene-environment interactions and the nature of their effects.

So where do we go from here? Individuals who jumped on the gene-environment interaction bandwagon are now discovering that studying this process is harder than it first appeared. But there is good reason to believe that gene-environment interaction is a very important process in the development of clinical disorders. So rather than abandon ship, I would suggest that as a field, we just need to proceed with more caution.

SUMMARY POINTS

– Gene-environment interaction refers to the phenomenon whereby the effect of genes depends on the environment, or the effect of the environment depends on genotype. There is now widespread documentation of gene-environment interaction effects across many clinical disorders, leading to more integrated etiological models of the development of clinical outcomes.

– Twin, family, and adoption studies provide methods to study gene-environment interaction with genetic effects modeled latently, meaning that genes are not directly measured, but rather genetic influence is inferred based on correlations across relatives. Advances in genotyping technology have contributed to a proliferation of studies testing for gene-environment interaction with specific measured genes. Each of these designs has its own strengths and limitations.

– Two types of gene-environment interaction have been discussed in greatest detail in the literature: fan-shaped interactions, in which the influence of genotype is greater in one environmental context than in another; and crossover interactions, in which the same individuals who are most adversely affected by negative environments may also be those who are most likely to benefit from positive environments. Distinguishing between these types of interactions poses a number of challenges.

– The range of environments studied and the lack of a true metric for many environmental measures of interest create difficulties for studying gene-environment interactions. Issues surrounding power, and the use of logistic regression and selected samples, further compound the difficulty of studying gene-environment interactions. These issues have not received adequate attention by many researchers in this field.

– Epigenetic processes may tell us something about the biological mechanisms by which the environment can affect gene expression and impact behavior. The growing literature demonstrating differences in gene expression in humans as a function of environmental experience demonstrates that our social worlds can exert biologically significant effects on gene expression in humans.

– Much of the current work on gene-environment interactions does not take advantage of the state of the science in genetics or psychology; advancing this area of study will require close collaborations between psychologists and geneticists.

Differential Susceptibility to Environmental Influences

Jay Belsky

Evidence that adverse rearing environments exert negative effects particularly on children and adults presumed “vulnerable” for temperamental or genetic reasons may actually reflect something else: heightened susceptibility to the negative effects of risky environments and to the beneficial effects of supportive environments.

Building on Belsky’s (Belsky & Pluess) evolutionary inspired differential susceptibility hypothesis, stipulating that some individuals, including children, are more affected, both for better and for worse, by their environmental exposures and developmental experiences, recent research consistent with this claim is reviewed. It reveals that in many cases, including both observational field studies and experimental intervention ones, putatively vulnerable children and adults are especially susceptible to both positive and negative environmental effects. In addition to reviewing relevant evidence, unknowns in the differential susceptibility equation are highlighted.

Introduction

Most students of child development probably do not presume that all children are equally susceptible to rearing (or other environmental) effects; a long history of research on interactions between parenting and temperament, or parenting by temperament interactions, clearly suggests otherwise. Nevertheless, it remains the case that most work still focuses on effects of environmental exposures and developmental experiences that apply equally to all children so-called main effects of parenting or poverty or being reared by a depressed mother, thus failing to consider interaction effects, which reflect the fact that whether, how, and how much these contextual conditions influence the child may depend on the child’s temperament or some other characteristic of individuality.

Research on parenting-by-temperament interactions is based on the premise that what proves effective for some individuals in fostering the development of some valued outcome, or preventing some problematic one may simply not do so for others. Commonly tested are diathesis-stress hypotheses derived from multiplerisk/transactional frameworks in which individual characteristics that make children “vulnerable” to adverse experiences placing them “at risk” of developing poorly are mainly influential when there is at the same time some contributing risk from the environmental context (Zuckerman, 1999).

Diathesis refers to the latent weakness or vulnerability that a child or adult may carry (e.g., difficult temperament, particular gene), but which does not manifest itself, thereby undermining well-being, unless the individual is exposed to conditions of risk or stress.

After highlighting some research consistent with a diathesis-stress or dual-risk perspective, I raise questions on the basis of other findings about how the first set of data has been interpreted, advancing the evolutionary inspired proposition that some children, for temperamental or genetic reasons, are actually more susceptible to both (a) the adverse effects of unsupportive parenting and (b) the beneficial effects of supportive rearing.

Finally, I draw conclusions and highlight some “unknowns in the differential-susceptibility equation.”

Diathesis-Stress, Dual-Risk and Vulnerability

The view that infants and toddlers manifesting high levels of negative emotion are at special risk of problematic development when they experience poor quality rearing is widespread.

Evidence consistent with this view can be found in the work of Morrell and Murray, who showed that it was only highly distressed and irritable 4-month-old boys who experienced coercive and rejecting mothering at this age who continued to show evidence, 5 months later, of emotional and behavioural dysregulation. Relatedly, Belsky, Hsieh, and Cernic observed that infants who scored high in negative emotionality at 12 months of age and who experienced the least supportive mothering and fathering across their second and third years of life scored highest on externalizing problems at 36 months of age. And Deater, Deckard and Dodge reported that:

Children rated highest on externalizing behavior problems by teachers across the primary school years were those who experienced the most harsh discipline prior to kindergarten entry and who were characterized by mothers at age 5 as being negatively reactive infants.

The adverse consequences of the co-occurrence of a child risk factor (ie, a diathesis; e.g., negative emotionality) and problematic parenting also is evident in Caspi and Moflitt’s ground breaking research on gene-by-environment (GXE) interaction. Young men followed from early childhood were most likely to manifest high levels of antisocial behavior when they had both (a) a history of child maltreatment and (b) a particular variant of the MAO-A gene, a gene previously linked to aggressive behaviour. Such results led Rutter, like others, to speak of “vulnerable individuals,” a concept that also applies to children putatively at risk for compromised development due to their behavioral attributes. But is “vulnerability” the best way to conceptualize the kind of person-environment interactions under consideration?

Beyond Diathesis, Stress, DualRisk and Vulnerability

Working from an evolutionary perspective, Belsky (Belsky & Pluess) theorized that children, especially within a family, should vary in their susceptibility to both adverse and beneficial effects of rearing influence. Because the future is uncertain, in ancestral times, just like today, parents could not know for certain (consciously or unconsciously) what rearing strategies would maximise reproductive fitness, that is, the dispersion of genes in future generations, the ultimate goal of Darwinian evolution.

To protect against all children being steered, inadvertently, in a parental direction that proved disastrous at some later point in time, developmental processes were selected to vary children’s susceptibility to rearing (and other environmental influences).

In what follows, I review evidence consistent with this claim which highlights early negative emotionality and particular candidate genes as “plasticity factors” making individuals more susceptible to both supportive and unsupportive environments, that is, “for better and for worse”.

Negative Emotionality as Plasticity Factor

The first evidence which Belsky could point to consistent with his differential susceptibility hypothesis concerned early negative emotionality. Children scoring high on this supposed “risk factor”, particularly in the early years, appeared to benefit disproportionately from supportive rearing environments.

Feldman, Greenbaum, and Yirmiya found, for example, that 9-month-olds scoring high on negativity who experienced low levels of synchrony in mother-infant interaction manifested more noncompliance during clean-up at age two than other children did. When such infants experienced mutually synchronous mother-infant interaction, however, they displayed greater self-control than did children manifesting much less negativity as infants. Subsequently, Kochanska, Aksan, and Joy observed that highly fearful 15-month-olds experiencing high levels of power-assertive paternal discipline were most likely to cheat in a game at 38 months, yet when cared for in a supportive manner such negatively emotional, fearful toddlers manifested the most rule-compatible conduct.

In the time since Belsky and Pluess reviewed evidence like that just cited, highlighting the role of negative emotionality as a “plasticity factor”, even more evidence to this effect has emerged in the case of children. Consider in this regard work linking (1) maternal empathy and anger with externalizing problems; (2) mutual responsiveness observed in the mother-child dyad with effortful control; (3) intrusive maternal behavior and poverty with executive functioning; and (4) sensitive parenting with social, emotional and cognitive-academic development.

Experimental studies designed to test Belsky’s differential susceptibility hypothesis are even more suggestive than the longitudinal correlational evidence just cited. Blair discovered that it was highly negative infants who benefited most in terms of both reduced levels of externalizing behavior problems and enhanced cognitive functioning from a multi-faceted infant-toddler intervention program whose data he reanalyzed. Thereafter, Klein Velderman, Bakermans-Kranenburg, Juffer, and van Ijzendoorn found that experimentally induced changes in maternal sensitivity exerted greater impact on the attachment security of highly negatively reactive infants than it did on other infants. In both experiments, environmental influences on “vulnerable” children were for better instead of for worse.

As it turns out, there is ever growing experimental evidence that early negative emotionality is a plasticity factor. Consider findings showing that it is infants who score relatively low on irritability as newborns who fail to benefit from an otherwise security promoting intervention and infants who show few, if any, mild perinatal adversities known to be related to limited negative emotionality who fail to benefit from computer based instruction otherwise found to promote preschoolers’ phonemic awareness and early literacy.

In other words, only the putatively “vulnerable”, those manifesting or likely to manifest high levels of negativity experienced developmental enhancement as a function of the interventions cited. Similar results emerge among older children, as Scott and O’Connor’s parenting intervention resulted in the most positive change in conduct among emotionally dysregulated children (i.e., loses temper, angry, touchy).

Genes as Plasticity Factors

Perhaps nowhere has the diathesis-stress framework informed person-X-environment interaction research more than in the study of GXE interaction. Recent studies involving measured genes and measured environments also document both for better and for worse environmental effects, in the case of susceptible individuals as it turns out. Here I consider evidence pertaining to two specific candidate genes before turning attention to research examining multiple genes at the same time.

DRD4

One of the most widely studied genetic polymorphisms in research involving measured genes and measured environments pertains to a particular allele (or variant) of the dopamine receptor gene, DRD4. Because the dopaminergic system is engaged in attentional, motivational, and reward mechanisms and one variant of this polymorphism, the 7-repeat allele, has been linked to lower dopamine reception efficiency. Van Ijzendoorn and Bakerman Kranenburg predicted this allele would moderate the association between maternal unresolved loss or trauma and infant attachment disorganization. Having the 7-repeat DRD4 allele substantially increased risk for disorganization in children exposed to maternal unresolved loss/trauma, as expected, consistent with the diathesis-stress framework; yet when children with this supposed “vulnerability gene” were raised by mothers who had no unresolved loss, they displayed significantly less disorganization than agemates without the allele, regardless of mothers’ unresolved loss status.

Similar results emerged when the interplay between DRD4 and observed parental insensitivity in predicting externalizing problems was studied in a group of 47 twins. Children carrying the 7-repeat DRD4 allele raised by insensitive mothers displayed more externalizing behaviors than children without the DRD4 7-repeat (irrespective of maternal sensitivity), whereas children with the 7-repeat allele raised by sensitive mothers showed the lowest levels of externalizing problem behavior.

Such results suggest that conceptualizing the 7-repeat DRD4 allele exclusively in risk-factor terms is misguided, as this variant of the gene seems to heighten susceptibility to a wide variety of environments, with supportive and risky contexts promoting, respectively, positive and negative functioning.

In the time since I last reviewed such differential susceptibility related evidence, ever more GXE findings pertaining to DRD4 (and other polymorphisms) have appeared consistent with the notion that there are individual differences in developmental plasticity. Consider in this regard recent differential susceptibility related evidence showing heightened or exclusive susceptibility of individuals carrying the 7repeat allele when the environmental predictor and developmental outcome were, respectively, (a) maternal positivity and prosocial behavior; (b) early nonfamilial childcare and social competence; (c) contextual stress and support and adolescent negative arousal; (d) childhood adversity and young adult persistent alcohol dependence; and (e) newborn risk status (i.e., gestational age, birth weight for gestational age, length of stay in NICU) and observed maternal sensitivity.

Especially noteworthy, perhaps are the results of a meta-analysis of GXE research involving dopamine related genes showing that children eight and younger respond to positive and negative developmental experiences and environmental exposures in a manner consistent with differential susceptibility.

As in the case of negative emotionality, intervention research also underscores the susceptibility to 7-repeat carriers of the DRD4 gene to benefit disproportionately from supportive environments. Kegel, Bus and van I]zendoorn tested and found support for the hypothesis that it would be DRD4-7R carriers who would benefit from specially designed computer games promoting phonemic awareness and, thereby, early literacy in their randomized control trial (RCT). Other such RCT results point in the same direction with regard to DRD4-7R, including research on African American teenagers in which substance use was the outcome examined.

5-HTTLPR

Perhaps the most studied polymorphism in research on GXE interactions is the serotonin transporter gene, 5-HTTLPR. Most research distinguishes those who carry one or two short alleles (8/3, 3/1) and those homozygous for the long allele (1/1). The short allele has generally been associated with reduced expression of the serotonin transporter molecule, which is involved in the reuptake of serotonin from the synaptic cleft and thus considered to be related to depression, either directly or in the face of adversity. Indeed, the short allele has often been conceptualized as a “depression gene”.

Caspi and associates were the first to show that the 5-HTTLPR moderates effects of stressful life events during early adulthood on depressive symptoms, as well as on probability of suicide ideation/attempts and of major depression episode at age 26 years. Individuals with two 3 alleles proved most adversely affected whereas effects on 1/1 genotypes were weaker or entirely absent. Of special significance, however, is that carriers of the 3/3 allele scored best on the outcomes just mentioned when stressful life events were absent, though not by very much.

Multiple research groups have attempted to replicate Caspi et al.’’s findings of increased vulnerability to depression in response to stressful life events for individuals with one or more copies of the 5 allele, with many succeeding, but certainly not all. The data presented in quite a number of studies indicates, however, that individuals carrying short alleles (s/s, s/l) did not just function most poorly when exposed to many stressors, but best, showing least problems when encountering few or none. Calling explicit attention to such a pattern of results, Taylor and associates reported that young adults homozygous for short alleles (s/s) manifested greater depressive symptomatology than individuals with other allelic variants when exposed to early adversity (i.e., problematic child rearing history), as well as many recent negative life events, yet the fewest symptoms when they experienced a supportive early environment or recent positive experiences. The same for-better-and-for-worse pattern of results concerning depression are evident in Eley et al.’s research on adolescent girls who were and were not exposed to risky family environments.

The effect of 5-HTTLPR in moderating environmental influences in a manner consistent with differential susceptibility is not restricted to depression and its symptoms. It also emerges in studies of anxiety and ADHD, particularly ADHD which persists into adulthood. In all these cases, emotional abuse in childhood or a generally adverse childrearing environment, it proved to be those individuals carrying short alleles who responded to developmental or concurrent experiences in a for-better-and-for-worse manner, depending on the nature of the experience in question.

Since last reviewing such 5-HTTLPR-related GXE research consistent with differential susceptibility, ever more evidence in line with the just cited work has emerged. Consider in this regard evidence showing for-better-and-for-worse results in the case of those carrying one or more short alleles of 5-HTTLPR when the rearing predictor and child outcome were, respectively, (a) maternal responsiveness and child moral internalization, (b) child maltreatment and children’s antisocial behavior, and (c) supportive parenting and children’s positive affect.

Differential susceptibility related findings also emerged (among male African-American adolescents) when (d) perceived racial discrimination was used to predict conduct problems; (e) when life events were used to predict neuroticism, and (f) life satisfaction of young adults; and (g) when retrospectively reported childhood adversity was used to explain aspects of impulsivity among college students (e.g., pervasive influence of feelings, feelings trigger action). Especially noteworthy are the results of a recent meta-analysis of GXE findings pertaining to children under 18 years of age, showing that short allele carriers are more susceptible to the effects of both positive and negative developmental experiences and environmental exposures, at least in the case of Caucasians.

As was the case with DRD4, there is also evidence from intervention studies documenting differential susceptibility. Consider in this regard Drury and associates data showing that it was only children growing up in Romanian orphanages who carried 5-HTTLPR short alleles who benefited from being randomly assigned to high quality foster care in terms of reductions in the display of indiscriminant friendliness. Eley and associates also documented intervention benefits restricted to short allele carriers in their study of cognitive behavior therapy for children suffering from severe anxiety, but their design included only treated children (i.e., did not involve a randomly assigned control group).

Polygenetic Plasticity

Most GxE research, like that just considered, has focused on one or another polymorphism, like DRD4 or 5-HTTLPR. In recent years, however, work has emerged focusing on multiple polymorphisms and thus reflecting the operation of epistatic (i.e., GXG) interactions, as well as GxGxE ones.

One can distinguish polygenetic GxE research in terms of the basis used for creating multigene composites. One strategy involves identifying genes which show main effects and then compositing only these to then test an interaction with some environmental parameter. Another approach is to composite genes for a secondary, follow-up analysis that have been found in a first round of inquiry to generate significant GxE interactions.

When Cicchetti and Rogosch applied this approach using four different polymorphisms, they found that as the number of sensitivity-to-the-environment alleles increased, so did the degree to which maltreated and non-maltreated low-income children differed on a composite measure of resilient functioning in a for-better-and-for-worse manner.

A third approach which has now been used successfully a number of times to chronicle differential susceptibility involves compositing a set of genes selected on an apriori basis before evaluating GxE. Consider in this regard evidence indicating that 2-gene composites moderate links (a) between sexual abuse and adolescent depression/anxiety and somatic symptoms (b) between perceived racial discrimination and risk related cognitions reflecting a fast vs. slow life-history strategy (c) between contextual stress/support and aggression in young adulthood and (d) between social class and post-partum depression.

Of note, too is evidence that a 3-gene composite moderates the relation between a hostile, demoralizing community and family environment and aggression in early adulthood and that a 5-gene composite moderates the relation between parenting and adolescent self-control.

Given research already reviewed, it is probably not surprising that there is also work examining genetically moderated intervention effects focusing on multi-gene composites rather than singular candidate genes. Consider in this regard the Drury et al.’s findings showing that even though the genetic polymorphism brain derived neurotrophic factor, BDNF, did not all by itself operate as a plasticity factor when it came to distinguishing those who did and did not benefit from the aforementioned foster-care intervention implemented with institutionalized children in Romania, the already-noted moderating effect of 5-HTTLPR was amplified if a child carried Met rather than Val alleles of BDNF along with short 5-HTTLPR alleles. In other words, the more plasticity alleles children carried, the more their indiscriminate friendliness declined over time when assigned to foster care and the more it increased if they remained institutionalized.

Consider next Brody, Chen and Beach’s confirmed prediction that the more GABAergic and Dopaminergic genes African American teens carried, the more protected they were from increasing their alcohol use over time when enrolled in a whole-family prevention program. Such results once again call attention to the benefits of moving beyond single polymorphisms when it comes to operationalizing the plasticity phenotype. They also indicate that even if a single gene may not by itself moderate an intervention (or other environmental) effect, it could still play a role in determining the degree to which an individual benefits. These are insights future investigators and interventionists should keep in mind when seeking to illuminate “what works for whom?”

Unknowns in the Differential Susceptibility Equation

The notion of differential susceptibility, derived as it is from evolutionary theorizing, has gained great attention in recent years, including a special section in the journal Development and Psychopathology.

Although research summarized here suggests that the concept has utility, there are many “unknowns,” several of which are highlighted in this concluding section.

Domain General or Domain Specilic?

Is it the case that some children, perhaps those who begin life as highly negatively emotional, are more susceptible both to a wide variety of rearing influences and with respect to a wide variety of developmental outcomes as is presumed in the use of concepts like “fixed” and “plastic” strategists, with the latter being highly malleable and the former hardly at all? Boyce and Ellis contend that a general psychobiological reactivity makes some children especially vulnerable to stress and thus to general health problems. Or is it the case, as Belsky wonders and Kochanska, Aksan, and Joy argue, that different children are susceptible to different environmental influences (e.g., nurturance, hostility) and with respect to different outcomes? Pertinent to this idea are findings of Caspi and Mofiitt indicating that different genes differentially moderated the effect of child maltreatment on antisocial behavior (MAO-A) and on depression (5HTT).

Continuous Versus Discrete Plasticity?

The central argument that children vary in their susceptibility to rearing influences raises the question of how to conceptualize differential susceptibility: categorically (some children highly plastic and others not so at all) or continuously (some children simply more malleable than others)? It may even be that plasticity is discrete for some environment-outcome relations, with some individuals affected and others not at all (e.g., gender specific effects), but that plasticity is more continuous for other susceptibility factors (e.g., in the case of the increasing vulnerability to stress of parents with decreasing dopaminergic efficiency. Certainly the work which composites multiple genotypes implies that there is a “plasticity gradient”, with some children higher and some lower in plasticity.

Mechanisms

Susceptibility factors are the moderators of the relation between the environment and developmental outcome, but they do not elucidate the mechanism of differential influence.

Several (non-mutually exclusive) explanations have been advanced for the heightened susceptibility of negatively emotional infants. Suomi posits that the timidity of “uptight” infants affords them extensive opportunity to learn by watching, a view perhaps consistent with Bakermans-Kranenburg and van Ijzendoorn’s aforementioned findings pertaining to DRD4, given the link between the dopamine system and attention. Kochanska et al., contend that the ease with which anxiety is induced in fearful children makes them highly responsive to parental demands.

And Belsky speculates that negativity actually reflects a highly sensitive nervous system on which experience registers powerfully negatively when not regulated by the caregiver but positively when coregulation occurs, a point of view somewhat related to Boyce and Ellis’ proposal that susceptibility may reflect prenatally programmed hyper-reactivity to stress.

*

Why the Only Answer is to Break Up the Biggest Wall Street Banks – Robert Reich * Twenty Years after the Fall of the Berlin Wall: Rethinking the Role of Money and Markets in the Global Economy – W. Lee Hoskins and Walker F. Todd.

If you took the greed out of Wall Street all you’d have left is pavement.

Trump would rather stir up public rage against foreigners than address the true abuses of power inside America.

Why should banks ever be permitted to use peoples’ bank deposits insured by the federal government to place risky bets on the banks’ own behalf?

Government managed intervention in financial markets around the world and unpredictable monetary policy continue to encourage inappropriate risk taking.

What, if anything, should those who do not want to be serfs or slaves do about this situation?

Congress needs to prohibit regulators from bailing out failed banks, other types of financial institutions, and nonfinancial institutions (or foreign banking systems), be they large or small.

On Wednesday, Federal bank regulators proposed to allow Wall Street more freedom to make riskier bets with federally insured bank deposits such as the money in your checking and savings accounts.

The proposal waters down the so-called “Volcker Rule” (named after former Fed chair Paul Volcker, who proposed it). The Volcker Rule was part of the Dodd-Frank Act, passed after the near meltdown of Wall Street in 2008 in order to prevent future near meltdowns.

The Volcker Rule was itself a watered down version of the 1930s Glass Steagall Act, enacted in response to the Great Crash of 1929. Glass Steagall forced banks to choose between being commercial banks, taking in regular deposits and lending them out, or being investment banks that traded on their own capital.

Glass-Steagall’s key principle was to keep risky assets away from insured deposits. It worked well for more than half century. Then Wall Street saw opportunities to make lots of money by betting on stocks, bonds, and derivatives (bets on bets) and in 1999 persuaded Bill Clinton and a Republican congress to repeal it.

Nine years later, Wall Street had to be bailed out, and millions of Americans lost their savings, their jobs, and their homes.

Why didn’t America simply reinstate Glass Steagall after the last financial crisis? Because too much money was at stake. Wall Street was intent on keeping the door open to making bets with commercial deposits. So instead of Glass Steagall, we got the Volcker Rule almost 300 pages of regulatory mumbo jumbo, riddled with exemptions and loopholes.

Now those loopholes and exemptions are about to get even bigger, until they swallow up the Volcker Rule altogether. If the latest proposal goes through, we’ll be nearly back to where we were before the crash of 2008.

Why should banks ever be permitted to use peoples’ bank deposits insured by the federal government to place risky bets on the banks’ own behalf? Bankers say the tougher regulatory standards put them at a disadvantage relative to their overseas competitors.

Baloney. Since the 2008 Bnancial crisis, Europe has been more aggressive than the United States in clamping down on banks headquartered there. Britain is requiring its banks to have higher capital reserves than are so far contemplated in the United States.

The real reason Wall Street has spent huge sums trying to water down the Volcker Rule is that far vaster sums can be made if the Rule is out of the way. If you took the greed out of Wall Street all you’d have left is pavement.

As a result of consolidations brought on by the Wall Street bailout, the biggest banks today are bigger and have more clout than ever. They and their clients know with certainty they will be bailed out if they get into trouble, which gives them a financial advantage over smaller competitors whose capital doesn’t come with such a guarantee. So they’re becoming even more powerful.

The only answer is to break up the giant banks. The Sherman Antitrust Act of 1890 was designed not only to improve economic efficiency by reducing the market power of economic giants like the railroads and oil companies but also to prevent companies from becoming so large that their political power would undermine democracy.

The sad lesson of Dodd-Frank and the Volcker Rule is that Wall Street is too powerful to allow effective regulation of it. America should have learned that lesson in 2008 as the Street brought the rest of the economy and much of the world to its knees.

If Trump were a true populist on the side of the people rather than powerful financial interests, he’d lead the way, as did Teddy Roosevelt starting in 1901.

But Trump is a fake populist. After all, he appointed the bank regulators who are now again deregulating Wall Street. Trump would rather stir up public rage against foreigners than address the true abuses of power inside America.

So we may have to wait until we have a true progressive populist president. Or until Wall Street nearly implodes again robbing millions more of their savings, jobs, and homes. And the public once again demands action.

Twenty Years after the Fall of the Berlin Wall: Rethinking the Role of Money and Markets in the Global Economy

W. Lee Hoskins, Pacific Research Institute

Walker F. Todd, Middle Tennessee State University

June 2018

Many of the hopes arising from the 1989 fall of the Berlin Wall were still unrealized in 2010 and remain so today, especially in monetary policy and financial supervision. The major players that helped bring on the 2008 financial crisis still exist, with rising levels of moral hazard, including Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, the too big to fail banks, and even AIG. In monetary policy, the Federal Reserve has only just begun to reduce its vastly increased balance sheet, while the European Central Bank has yet to begin.

The Dodd Frank Act of 2010 imposed new conditions but did not contract the greatly expanded federal safety net and failed to reduce the substantial increase in moral hazard. The larger budget deficits since 2008 were simply decisions to spend at higher levels instead of rational responses to the crisis. Only an increased reliance on market discipline in financial services, avoidance of Federal Reserve market interventions to rescue financial players while doing little or nothing for households and firms, and elimination of the Treasury’s backdoor borrowings that conceal the real costs of increasing budget deficits, can enable the American public to achieve the meaningful improvements in living standards that were reasonably expected when the Berlin Wall fell.

My comments focus on the continuing failure of regulations to limit disruptions in financial markets and the concomitant increase in moral hazard, as well as the purely discretionary monetary policy conducted by the Federal Reserve. State managed intervention in financial markets and a disruptive monetary policy combined to impose large costs on the economy. Yet Congress is likely to reward the Fed with more power and continues to rely on regulatory intervention. Lawmakers and regulators do not follow thoughtful economic advice that focuses on market solutions because it is rarely in their self interest to do so. Only a citizenry, educated about the values of free markets, private enterprise, and a stable monetary order, can roll back the tide of government intervention by exercising its power at the ballot box.

THEN

The Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989. The United States was embroiled in a financial disruption involving commercial banks and savings and loan associations. When it was over, some 1,400 banks and over 1,000 savings and loan associations failed at a then estimated present value cost of $150 billion dollars to taxpayers. Two pieces of legislation were passed to deal with the problem. The Financial Institutions Reform Recovery and Enforcement Act was enacted in August 1989, followed by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation Improvement Act in December 1991.

These statutes were enacted to deal with the worst collapse of financial institutions since the 1930s (at the time). They relied on more regulation, more capital, and more diligent regulators. Yet it was clear that this set of regulations would fare no better than the mountain of regulations already on the books. Loopholes would develop, and regulators would forbear. At the time, those of us who were hopeful about reform thought that the regulators would heed the message from Congress, especially the House of Representatives. The too big to fail doctrine, in which the regulators colluded throughout the 1980s, was declared against public policy by the words of the 1991 statute.

Representatives of large banks (lobbyists), however, acting through the regulators and the Treasury Department, managed to have the “systemic risk exception” codified. That exception has been invoked several times now since early 2008. Simultaneously, Senator Christopher Dodd, acting on behalf of lobbyists for the Securities Industry Association, introduced an amendment of Section 13(3) of the Federal Reserve Act that appeared to enable the Fed to make emergency loans to securities firms and other nonbanks, a power that had not been used since 1936. In the next session of Congress, the lobbyists began their multi decade rout of the forces of reform by enacting the Riegle-Neel Act of 1993.

The Founding Fathers of the Republic might have been misguided, but they were persuaded profoundly that a system of checks and balances, including preservation of the capacity of minority forces (which they called “factions”) to push back against excess on the part of other forces, was essential to preserve the forms and processes of a constitutional Republic. They clearly did not contemplate that one force or faction always would win all the battles for decades on end. Those who wanted to game the system did, in fact, win all the legislative and regulatory battles from 1992 forward. The outcome of their victories is plain for all to see after 2008.

What, if anything, should those who do not want to be serfs or slaves do about this situation?

Classical constitutional theory, which is at odds with utilitarian economic theories of efficiency on this point, says, “Make sure that those who would resist the gamers retain the capacity to push back effectively within the legitimate processes of the system.” It is not necessarily more efficient, and certainly not constitutional, to argue that nothing should stand in the way of those who advocate more and bigger games at public risk or public expense.

For decades before the 2016 election, a large section of the public was asking for a choice other than, “Decide whose boots you want to lick.” At least at the beginning, around 2010, the Tea Parties essentially were saying, “We don’t want to lick bankers’ boots.” The Republican leaders, unfortunately, essentially began to say, “When you lick, we’ll make them taste better.” The Democrat leaders of that day gave lip service to part of the public’s pleas (they enacted the Consumer Financial Protection Board [CFPB]), but they did not really want to turn aside bankers’ financial offerings as campaign contributions either (they structured the CFPB so as to leave it vulnerable to constitutional challenge).

The only good news was that government authorities still had the backbone as late as the early 1990s to let large financial institutions fail and to punish their shareholders, counterparties, and creditors.

Of course, most of the institutions that failed were relatively small. Three months after the Berlin Wall went down, Drexel Burnham, a large investment bank that served as the lynchpin for the junk bond market, was allowed to fail with the blessings of the Treasury and the Federal Reserve’s Board of Governors. At the March 1990 Federal Open Market Committee (FOMC) meeting, Peter Stemlight of the New York Fed (FRBNY) remarked on how smoothly the markets handled the Drexel bankruptcy. Yet too big to fail policy already began for large commercial banks, beginning with Franklin National Bank of New York in 1974 and culminating with the failure of Continental Illinois in 1984. The moral hazard problem associated with bank bailouts became well known.

Many academics and at least two Federal Reserve Bank presidents argued in the early 1990s for limiting federal deposit insurance and pricing it for the risk of the institution, as well as reducing the rest of the federal safety net, in particular dumping the too big to fail policy. The essence of financial exchange is creditor and counterparty scrutiny, knowing one’s customer and bearing the costs and benefits of doing so. Government intervention that shields depositors, creditors, and counterparties from losses weakens the market restraint on inappropriate risk taking. By the mid 1990s, the federal safety net no longer was reduced; instead, more regulation and more empowered (but more spineless) regulators was the congressional solution.

This choice by Congress in the 1990s proved to be a bad one, for in fewer than two decades we arrived at another “worst banking crisis since the 1930s.”

When the Berlin Wall fell, central banks were focusing on lower inflation rates and exchange rate stability. At the December 1989 FOMC meeting, the Board’s staff presented a model simulation of the cost of reaching zero inflation by 1995 from the then prevalent 4.5 percent inflation rate. The Committee had not agreed on a target inflation rate, but most members seemed to prefer something between zero and 2 percent.

At the same FOMC meeting, Sam Cross of the FRBNY reported that the German mark (this was in pre euro days) had soared against the dollar and that there was some speculation in the market that the Fed might intervene. The Fed already had intervened to the tune of $20 billion, and the Treasury, using its Exchange Stabilization Fund and the Fed’s warehousing facility, also held that same amount of foreign currency from interventions. This warehousing facility (the Fed lent the Treasury dollars in exchange for its foreign currencies) was simply a way for the Treasury to evade Congressional appropriations. In short, it was and still is a way for the Fed to fund the Treasury directly. While the warehouse is dormant now, it is still on the statute books and could be used again. The Fed’s former sterilized interventions in currency markets produced nothing but uncertainty.

During the 1990s the Fed did manage to lower the inflation rate. It did so with no monetary rules or targets, nothing but pure discretion. But the Fed developed a pattern of lowering interest rates at every potential downturn in GDP and every dislocation in financial markets. This practice encouraged investors to take on riskier assets, knowing that the Fed would bail them out with lower interest rates should a problem occur.

This practice came to be known as the “Greenspan put,” and monetary policy began to produce moral hazard on a grand scale.

NOW

Today we bear the fruits of state managed intervention and seat of the pants monetary policy. Many of the interventions from the 1930s are still with us, the Federal Housing Administration, Fannie Mae, and Freddie Mac, to name just a few, and they all played a major role in the housing bubble and its collapse in 2008.

Many new housing and mortgage programs were put in place during the recent troubles, and they will probably be around for the next financial disruption. Financial Services committee chairmen Dodd and Frank chose to travel the road of more regulation despite the fact that a mountain of regulation on the books failed to prevent the 1980s savings and loan and banking debacles, as well as the latest meltdown in financial markets. The integrated nature of global financial markets means that our problems quickly can become theirs. Governments around the globe are also going down the regulation road, despite the post 2007 failure of the Basel bank regulatory agreements and their own homegrown regulations.

Meanwhile, government guarantees and insurance programs for financial assets, along with bank bailouts, have produced, arguably, the largest increase in moral hazard in the history of financial markets. The Fed’s zero interest rate policy lasted so long (2008-15) that it encouraged excessive risk taking, certainly riding the yield curve for banks (funding short and lending long). Unless reversed, these policies will plant the seeds for the next bubble. A major consequence of these policies has been a surge in the already troubling problem of growing federal debt. Public debt levels abroad also have increased as a result of these failed policies.

The bailouts by the Federal Reserve doubled its balance sheet (emergency lending) with dubious assets, but also made it more of a development bank than a modern central bank. The bailouts of Bear Stearns and AIG put the Fed in the business of making fiscal policy, a function that belongs to Congress.

The Fed’s purchase of $1.7 trillion of mortgage backed securities was pure credit allocation that favored one sector of the economy over another.

Will Congress learn that if the Fed can allocate credit for the mortgage market, it also can do so for the municipal securities market or small business loans? Credit allocation also is something that Congress does, usually unsuccessfully, as with Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac before 2008, which were predicted to cost taxpayers upward of $400 billion, ignoring subsequent recoveries, before the housing bust ran its course (Morgenson and Rosner 2011).

The terrible decision to bail out the creditors of Bear Stearns set a precedent that did much damage. Other banks with troubled portfolios did not feel the urgency to clean themselves up. Creditors did not run on troubled institutions because they believed that they would be bailed out. Buyers of other troubled banks expected the Fed to be an investor for $30 billion, as it was with Bear Steams, and sellers expected to receive $10 a share instead of nothing, the same as Bear’s stockholders. This market expectation was not met with the failure of Lehman Brothers in September 2008, which is one very big reason why potential buyers of Lehman walked away.

Monetary policy at the Fed for nearly a decade now [2010] has been to hold short term rates near zero until the unemployment rate falls. Because unemployment is a lagging indicator, the Fed ran the risks of rising inflation and inflation expectations. Because the Fed essentially operated as an arm of the Treasury, its credibility as an inflation fighter fell into doubt.

Unwinding the balance sheet is going to be tricky because of the mortgage backed securities that dominate the Fed’s balance sheet. As interest rates rise, these long term assets will fall in value, leaving the Fed with large losses. The Fed needs to sell these assets now before it raises rates, as some in the Fed have argued. A governance issue for the Fed as it anticipates raising interest rates is which body within the Fed makes the decision on changes in excess reserve interest rates. Congress gave the power to the Board of Governors, not the FOMC, which makes monetary policy decisions. These decisions need to be linked (i.e., the same entity, preferably the FOMC, needs to decide on both monetary policy and excess reserve interest rates) if monetary policy is to have any chance of success.

In sum, today we have a greatly expanded federal safety net, a substantial increase in moral hazard, and a surge in federal debt that can be attributed only partially to the recession. A higher inflation rate must seem appealing to many in Washington. Much the same can be said for the majority of our friends abroad. The universal response so far is a call for more regulation, more capital and more far seeing regulators. The lessons from past banking busts go unlearned.

Government managed intervention in financial markets around the world and unpredictable monetary policy continue to encourage inappropriate risk taking.

TOMORROW

The principled economic position is to have government remove itself from intervening in financial markets and move to some form of a commodity standard for money or perhaps a regime of competitive money supplies. Over time, creditors, counterparties, and depositors would seek out prudent banks with high capital ratios. Weaker banks would adjust or fail. Some institutions might drop limited liability corporate charters and put stockholders at risk for capital calls. Existing clearing houses would provide risk sharing arrangements and thus would play a much stronger role in supervising the practices of participating banks. There would be no central bank to feed bubbles and busts.

Market disruptions still would occur, but they would be fewer, smaller, and quickly self correcting. The day the public and politicians are ready to accept such a system is probably some time off, perhaps after the bankruptcy of some major governments.

In the meantime, doing what is politically achievable, guided by the principled economic position, is about our best hope. Start by debunking the notion that only the government can prevent systemic risk. There is no bank that is too big to fail. That idea exists in the minds of regulators and politicians. If the failure of a large, insolvent bank causes runs on solvent institutions, then a lender of last resort lends freely at penalty rates against sound collateral until the run stops.

The second source of systemic risk is related to the effects of a bank failure on the payment system. The fear is that the failure of a large bank could cause failure of other banks connected to the payment system. Participants in clearing houses routinely limit their risk to individual counterparties so that the loss for each bank would be small. Also, risk sharing arrangements are in place in many clearing houses.

Congress needs to prohibit regulators from bailing out failed banks, other types of financial institutions, and nonfinancial institutions (or foreign banking systems), be they large or small.

Federal guarantees and deposit insurance need to be scaled back drastically. Mandatory closure rules are needed and should be enforced by bankruptcy judges and not a gaggle of regulators. Federal Reserve emergency lending powers should be removed [Section 13(3)]. This would prevent future bailouts of any company, banking or otherwise, by the Fed. The Fed also needs to have its warehousing relationship with the Treasury closed permanently. It is a nonstatutory arrangement that has been used since the 1960s for foreign exchange holdings of the Treasury, but it could be used for any Treasury asset for as long as this facility exists. All of these arrangements amount to backdoor Treasury borrowing. In the conduct of monetary policy, arrangements that provide backdoor funding for Treasury intervention in financial markets are particularly objectionable.

The Fed’s monetary policy should have a single objective, domestic price level stability. No more chasing after short term fluctuations in the real economy with a Section 13(3) fire extinguisher or after financial market disruptions with the fire hose of large changes in interest rates.

The Fed’s policy independence should not be unconditional. It should be expected to achieve its monetary policy objective in a defined amount of time and should face a penalty for failure, such as replacing members of the FOMC (preferably those whose policy choices led to or exacerbated the failure).

*

Pushing even the modest reforms proposed here through Congress will prove difficult without an educated public changing the political calculus at the ballot box. In the United States, an already restless public became even more so after 2008 regarding the size of government, the amount of debt (both foreign and domestic) that it is creating, and its intrusions into the private sector, particularly bank bailouts perceived as doing little or nothing to alleviate pressures on households and most firms.

The midterm elections of 2010 (the first Tea Party election) offered the first opportunity for the public to send a message to politicians that it was in their self interest to reduce the role of the state in our lives and in our economic affairs. The failure of the governing elites of both major parties to restrain the intrusive government that they had created led to the election of 2016, when the populist revolt erupted in both parties (Sanders for the Democrats and Trump for the Republicans). Those wishing for a different outcome in 2018 or 2020 need to explain what they propose to do about the factors causing public restlessness already in 2010.

Avoiding meat and dairy is the ‘single biggest way’ to reduce your impact on Earth – Damian Carrington.

Biggest analysis to date reveals huge footprint of livestock, it provides just 18% of calories but takes up 83% of farmland.

86% of all land mammals are now livestock or humans.

Avoiding meat and dairy products is the single biggest way to reduce your environmental impact on the planet, according to the scientists behind the most comprehensive analysis to date of the damage farming does to Earth.

The new research shows that without meat and dairy consumption, global farmland use could be reduced by more than 75%, an area equivalent to the US, China, European Union and Australia combined and still feed the world. Loss of wild areas to agriculture is the leading cause of the current mass extinction of wildlife.

The new analysis shows that while meat and dairy provide just 18% of calories and 37% of protein, it uses the vast majority, 83%, of farmland and produces 60% of agriculture’s greenhouse gas emissions. Other recent research shows 86% of all land mammals are now livestock or humans. The scientists also found that even the very lowest impact meat and dairy products still cause much more environmental harm than the least sustainable vegetable and cereal growing.

The study, published in the journal Science, created a huge dataset based on almost 40,000 farms in 119 countries and covering 40 food products that represent 90% of all that is eaten. It assessed the full impact of these foods, from emissions, freshwater use and water pollution (eutrophication) and air pollution (acidification).

“A vegan diet is probably the single biggest way to reduce your impact on planet Earth, not just greenhouse gases, but global acidification, eutrophication, land use and water use,” said Joseph Poore, at the University of Oxford, UK, who led the research. “It is far bigger than cutting down on your flights or buying an electric car,” he said, as these only cut greenhouse gas emissions.

“Agriculture is a sector that spans all the multitude of environmental problems,” he said. “Really it is animal products that are responsible for so much of this. Avoiding consumption of animal products delivers far better environmental benefits than trying to purchase sustainable meat and dairy.”

The analysis also revealed a huge variability between different ways of producing the same food. For example, beef cattle raised on deforested land result in 12 times more greenhouse gases and use 50 times more land than those grazing rich natural pasture. But the comparison of beef with plant protein such as peas is stark, with even the lowest impact beef responsible for six times more greenhouse gases and 36 times more land.

The large variability in environmental impact from different farms does present an opportunity for reducing the harm, Poore said, without needing the global population to become vegan. If the most harmful half of meat and dairy production was replaced by plant based food, this still delivers about two-thirds of the benefits of getting rid of all meat and dairy production.

Cutting the environmental impact of farming is not easy, Poore warned: “There are over 570m farms all of which need slightly different ways to reduce their impact. It is an [environmental] challenge like no other sector of the economy.” But he said at least $500bn is spent every year on agricultural subsidies, and probably much more: “There is a lot of money there to do something really good with.”

Labels that reveal the impact of products would be a good start, so consumers could choose the least damaging options, he said, but subsidies for sustainable and healthy foods and taxes on meat and dairy will probably also be necessary.

One surprise from the work was the large impact of freshwater fish farming, which provides two-thirds of such fish in Asia and 96% in Europe, and was thought to be relatively environmentally friendly. “You get all these fish depositing excreta and unconsumed feed down to the bottom of the pond, where there is barely any oxygen, making it the perfect environment for methane production,” a potent greenhouse gas, Poore said.

The research also found grass fed beef, thought to be relatively low impact, was still responsible for much higher impacts than plant based food. “Converting grass into meat is like converting coal to energy. It comes with an immense cost in emissions,” Poore said.

The new research has received strong praise from other food experts. Prof Gidon Eshel, at Bard College, US, said: “I was awestruck. It is really important, sound, ambitious, revealing and beautifully done.”

He said previous work on quantifying farming’s impacts, including his own, had taken a topdown approach using national level data, but the new work used a bottom-up approach, with farm-by-farm data. “It is very reassuring to see they yield essentially the same results. But the new work has very many important details that are profoundly revealing.”

Prof Tim Benton, at the ‘ University of Leeds, UK, said: “This is an immensely useful study. It brings together a huge amount of data and that makes its conclusions much more robust. The way we produce food, consume and waste food is unsustainable from a planetary perspective. Given the global obesity crisis, changing diets, eating less livestock produce and more vegetables and fruit has the potential to make both us and the planet healthier.”

Dr Peter Alexander, at the University of Edinburgh, UK, was also impressed but noted: “There may be environmental benefits, eg for biodiversity, from sustainably managed grazing and increasing animal product consumption may improve nutrition for some of the poorest globally. My personal opinion is we should interpret these results not as the need to become vegan overnight, but rather to moderate our meat consumption.”

Poore said: “The reason I started this project was to understand if there were sustainable animal producers out there. But I have stopped consuming animal products over the last four years of this project. These impacts are not necessary to sustain our current way of life. The question is how much can we reduce them and the answer is a lot.”

‘Don’t be afraid to shoot’: A former Israeli soldier’s account of Gaza – Matthew Hall * The Biggest Prison on Earth. The History of the Occupied Territories – Ilan Pappe.

“This is basically a prolonged military occupation,”

The killing of more than 100 Palestinians by the Israeli Defence Force during recent protests in the Gaza Strip is the latest example of routine violence and abuse by the military and part of an aggressive strategy to control the occupied territories.

That is the view of a former Israeli sergeant and paratrooper who now serves as the executive director of Breaking the Silence, a not-for-profit organisation founded by former soldiers known for documenting “the reality of everyday life in the occupied territories”.

The bloodshed earlier this month saw demonstrators shot dead by Israel Defence Force (IDF) snipers and, according to Avner Gvaryahu, is emblematic of IDF abuse against Palestinians.

“It makes no sense to bring a sniper rifle to an unarmed protest,” Gvaryahu said from Tel Aviv.

According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), 104 Palestinians, including 12 children, were killed by the Israeli military during the recent demonstrations.

Another 12 Palestinians including two children were killed in what were classified as ”other circumstances”. The OCHA said 12,600 Palestinians were injured during the demonstrations along with one Israeli soldier.

“I am not a pacifist,” Gvaryahu says. “I believe in a right to self-determination for Israel and I believe in Israel’s right to self defence but I don’t think what is happening in Gaza is self defence. I think it is occupation defence.”

“This is basically a prolonged military occupation,” he says.

“Yes, there are borders to defend but the vast majority of the friction and the combat is in the West Bank. The military does semi-police work there but with limitless power. We are controlling people who do not want to be controlled by us.”

Since it was founded in 2004 by soldiers who served in Hebron, Breaking the Silence has received thousands of testimonies from IDF veterans documenting Israeli military interactions with Palestinians in the occupied territories.

In one account, an infantry soldier participating in 2014’s Operation Protective Edge in Gaza recalled that commanders told them ‘Don’t be afraid to shoot , and “There were no uninvolved civilians.”

A female officer detailed an incident near the Gaza Strip where an “old Palestinian farmer who got too close to the fence by mistake” was killed. “You simply see the tank shell coming and blowing him up,” she recalled. Other female officers recalled how they felt they needed to go beyond what was expected of male soldiers to prove themselves. Being a ”ball-breaker”, capable of “humiliating Arabs” earned them immediate kudos.

A sergeant who served in Ramallah in 2007 said: “Soldiers got out with army clubs and beat people to a pulp. We were told not to use it on people’s heads. I don’t remember where we were told to hit but as soon as a person on the ground is beaten with such a club, it’s difficult to be particular.”

An air force captain recalled: “We see a tsunami in Thailand and we’re all very saddened by what happens to all the civilians the day after. You know, they don’t have a home. But we’re carrying out a f…ing tsunami 70 kilometres from Tel Aviv and we aren’t even aware of it.”

Gvaryahu says that commanding officers tell soldiers who are new to an area “to show there is a new sheriff in town”. ”A soldier is given orders to instil in the Palestinians a sense that they are being chased,” he adds.

Gvaryahu says he underwent his own awakening during a night mission where his unit took over a Palestinian house.

“You pick a house, you kick in the windows, you barge in the house, you wake up the family. You usually handcuff the head of the family and you throw the family in a room and say if they want to use their own house they need permission from you.

”There are good soldiers, bad soldiers, moral soldiers, and immoral soldiers but the problem is not the soldier,” Gvaryahu says. “The problem is what the soldiers are ordered to uphold.”

Breaking the Silence’s research is funded by individual donors and international organisations and governments including Switzerland’s Department of Foreign Affairs, Norway’s embassy in Tel Aviv, Christian Aid, and the European Union. Unsurprisingly, its published testimonies divide opinion across Israel and Jewish communities around the world.

“Our view is far from being a majority view in Israel but it is also a view that cannot be totally dismissed,” Gvaryahu says.

Efforts to discredit Breaking the Silence have gone beyond the expected media counterpoints and online videos. Rightwing activist group Ad Kan unsuccessfully attempted to infiltrate the group and plant false testimonies. Other groups have taken to social media to counter Gvaryahu’s accounts, including an open letter claiming to be by soldiers of his same army unit.

Veteran accounts published by BTS are vetted and approved by the IDF censor but that didn’t stop Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu claiming the testimonies crossed “a red line”. In 2016 the Israeli government made unsuccessful attempts through the courts to force BTS to reveal the identity of one of its sources.

“I am proud they see a group of young former soldiers working out of a small office with less than 20 workers as a critical voice that they have to respond to,” Gvaryahu says.

In an email an lDF spokesperson said its rules of engagement vary ”in accordance with the circumstances on the ground, the nature of the threat, lessons learnt, and intelligence gathered in contending with the violent riots and attacks from Gaza.”

The spokesperson said Hamas, the de facto governing party in Gaza designated as a terrorist organisation by Israel, Australia and the United States, incited violence and used “riots” as cover for carrying out attacks on Israel.

”When dealing with violent riots, the IDF uses live fire as a last resort, when all other means have not been successful in contending with the threat. The use of live fire… is approved by a commander in the field who assesses the threat in each individual case. Only in the case of an immediate threat, may the soldiers use live fire.”

The IDF did not respond to requests to comment on testimonies published by BTS.

Gvaryahu says killing Palestinians had far reaching consequences for those on both sides of the fence. “Taking someone’s life is a big responsibility. We know from our experience that killing someone is not something that leaves you.

“It is immoral and irresponsible to put snipers with live ammunition in front of unarmed protesters. There have to be other tools as well. If you walk around with a hammer in your hand everything begins to look like a nail.

“I care deeply about Israel,” Gvaryahu says. I love my country. I wake up, go to sleep, eat and drink thinking about how to make this place better.”


See also:

The Biggest Prison on Earth. The History of the Occupied Territories

by Ilan Pappe

The ‘Shacham Plan’, ‘The Organization of Military Rule in the Occupied Territories’.

The Venus Project. The Best That Money Can’t Buy, Beyond Politics, Poverty, and War – Jacque Fresco.

Few technological achievements are as impressive as the ability to see our own planet from outer space. The beautiful sphere suspended against the black void of space makes plain the bond that the billions of us on Earth have in common. This global consciousness inspires space travelers who then provide emotional and spiritual observations. Their views from outer space awaken them to a grand realization that all who share our planet make up a single community. They think this viewpoint will help unite the nations of the world in order to build a peaceful future for the present generation and the ones that follow.

The future is our responsibility, but change will not take place until the majority loses confidence in their dictators’ and elected officials’ ability to solve problems. It will likely take an economic catastrophe resulting in enormous human suffering to bring about true social change.

Unfortunately, this does not guarantee that the change will be beneficial.

The purpose of this book is to explore visions and possibilities for the future that will nurture human growth and achievement, and make that the primary goal of society.

Many poets, philosophers, and writers have criticized the artificial borders that separate people preoccupied with the notion of nationhood. Despite the visions and hopes of astronauts, poets, writers, and visionaries, the reality is that nations are continuously at war with one another, and poverty and hunger prevail in many places throughout the world, including the United States.

So far, no astronaut arriving back on Earth with this new social consciousness has proposed to transcend the world’s limitations with a world where no national boundaries exist. Each remains loyal to his/her particular nation-state, and doesn’t venture beyond patriotism “my country, right or wrong” because doing so may risk their positions.

Most problems we face in the world today are of our own making. We must accept that the future depends upon us. Interventions by mythical or divine characters in white robes descending from the clouds, or by visitors from other worlds, are illusions that cannot solve the problems of our modern world.

The future of the world is our responsibility and depends upon decisions we make today. We are our own salvation or damnation. The shape and solutions of the future depend totally on the collective effort of all people working together.

Science and technology race into the future revealing new horizons in all areas. New discoveries and inventions appear at a rate never seen before in history and the rate of change will continue to increase in the years to come. Unfortunately, books and articles attempting to describe the future have one foot rooted in the past, and interpret the future through today’s concepts of technology. Most people are comfortable and less threatened with this perspective on change. But they often react negatively to proposals suggesting changes in the way they live. For this reason, when speaking of the future, very few explore or discuss changes in our social structure, much less our values. People are used to the structures and values of earlier times when stresses and levels of understanding were different. An author who wants to publish steers clear of such emotional and controversial issues. But we feel it is time to step out of that box. In this book we will freely explore a new future, one that is realistically attainable and not the doom and gloom so often presented today.

Few can envision a social structure that enables a Utopian life style as compared to today’s standards, or that this lifestyle could be made available without the sweat of one’s brow.

Yet thanks to our labor-saving machines and other technological advances, the lifestyle of a middle class person today far exceeds anything that even kings of the past could have experienced.

Since the beginning of the machine age, humankind has had a love/hate relationship with its mechanical devices. We may like what the machines do for us, but we don’t like what they do to us. They take away our means of making a living, and sometimes our sense of purpose which derives from thousands of years in which hand labor was the primary means of meeting human needs.

Many fear that machines are becoming more and more complex and sophisticated. As dependence on them grows, we give up much of our own independence and come to resemble them as passionless unfeeling automatons whose sole purpose is work, work, work. Some fear that these mechanical children may develop minds and wills of their own and enslave humanity.

Many worry about conformity and that our values and behaviors will change so that we lose the very qualities which make us human. The purpose of this book is to explore visions and possibilities for the future that will nurture human growth and achievement, and make that the primary goal of society. We will discuss the many options and roles individuals will play in this cybernated age in which our world is rebuilt by prodigious machines and governed by computers.

Most writers of the twentieth century who presented a vision of the future were blinded by national ego or selfcenteredness, and didn’t grasp the significance and meaning of the methods of science as they might be applied to the social system. Although it may appear that the focus of this book is the technology of the future, our major concern is the effect a totally cybernated world would have on humanity and on the individual. Of course no one can predict the future with precision. There are simply too many variables. New inventions, natural and man-made disasters, and new uncontrollable diseases could radically alter the course of civilization. While we cannot predict the future, we will most surely live it. Every action and decision we take or don’t ripples into the future. For the first time we have the capability, the technology, and the knowledge to direct those ripples.

When applied in a humane manner, the coming cybernated age could see the merging of technology and cybernetics into a workable synergy for all people. It could achieve a world free of hunger, war, and poverty a world humanity has failed to achieve throughout history. But if civilization continues on its present course, we will simply repeat the same mistakes all over again.

If we apply what we already know to enhance life on Earth, we can protect the environment and the symbiotic processes of living systems. It is now mandatory that we intelligently rearrange human affairs so as to live within the limits of available resources. The proposals of this book show limitless untapped potentials in the future application of new technologies where our health, intellect, and well being are involved. These are potentials not only in a material sense, but they also involve a deep concern for one another. Only in this way can science and technology support a meaningful and humane civilization.

Many of us who think seriously about the future of human civilization are familiar with stark scenarios of this new millennium, a world of growing chaos, disorder, soaring populations, and dwindling natural resources. Emaciated children cry out from decayed cities and villages with mouths agape and bellies swollen from malnutrition and disease. In more affluent areas urban Sprawl, air and water pollution, and escalating crime take a toll on the quality of life even for those who consider themselves removed from these conditions. Even the very wealthy are at a tremendous disadvantage because they fail to grasp the damage from technology applied without social concern.

Given the advances in science and technology over the last two hundred years, one may well ask, “Does it have to be this way?” There is no question that the application of science and technology can carry us with confidence and assurance into the future. What is needed is a change in our direction and purpose.

Our main problem is a lack of understanding of what it means to be human and that we are not separate from nature. Our values, beliefs, and behaviors are as much a part of natural law as any other process. We are all an integral part of the chain of life.

In this book we present an alternative vision of a sustainable new world civilization unlike any social system that has gone before. Although this vision is highly compressed, it is based upon decades of study and experimental research.

We call for a straightforward redesign of our culture in which the age-old problems of war, poverty, hunger, debt, and unnecessary suffering are viewed not only as avoidable, but also as totally unacceptable. Anything less results in a continuation of the same catalog of problems inherent in the present system.

A DESIGN FOR THE FUTURE

The future is fluid. Each act, each decision, and each development creates new possibilities and eliminates others. The future is ours to direct. In the past, change came so slowly that generations saw minimal difference in the daily business of surviving. Social structures and cultural norms remained static for centuries. In the last fifty to a hundred years, technology and social change accelerated to such an extent that governments and corporations now consider change management a core process.

Hundreds of books address technological change, business process management, human productivity, and environmental issues. Universities offer advanced degrees in public and environmental affairs. Almost all overlook the major element in these systems, human beings and their social structures and culture. Technology, policy, and automation count for nothing until humans accept them and apply them to their daily lives. This book offers a blueprint to consciously fuse these elements into a sustainable future for all, as well as provides for fundamental changes in the way we regard ourselves, one another, and our world. This can be accomplished with technology and cybernetics being applied with human and environmental concern to secure, protect, and encourage a more humane world for all.

How can such a prodigious task be accomplished? First, we must survey and inventory all of our available planetary resources. Discussions about what is scarce and what is plentiful is just talk until we actually measure our resources. We must first baseline what there is around the world. This information must be compiled so we know the parameters for humanizing social and technological development.

This can be accomplished using computers to assist in defining the most humane and appropriate ways to manage environmental and human affairs. This is basically the function of government. With computers processing trillions of bits of information per second, existing technologies far exceed the human capacity for arriving at equitable and sustainable decisions concerning the development and distribution of physical resources. With this potential, we can eventually surpass the practice of political decisions being made on the basis of power and advantage.

Eventually, with artificial intelligence, money may become irrelevant, particularly in a high-energy civilization in which material abundance eliminates the mindset of scarcity. We have arrived at a time when the methods of science and technology can provide abundance for all. It is no longer necessary to consciously withhold efficiency through planned obsolescence, or to utilize an old and obsolete monetary system.

Although many of us consider ourselves forward thinkers, we still cling tenaciously to the old values of the monetary system. We accept, without sufficient consideration, a system that breeds inefficiencies and actually encourages the creation of shortages. For example, while many concerns about environmental destruction and the misuse of technology are justified, many environmentalists draw bleak scenarios about the future based on present day methods and shortages. They view environmental destruction from the point of view that existing technologies are wasteful and used irresponsibly. They are accustomed to outmoded concepts and the economic imperatives of sales turnover and customer appeal.

Although we recognize that technological development has been misdirected, the benefits far outweigh the negatives.

Only the most diehard environmental activist would turn his back on the many elevating advances made in areas like medicine, communications, power generation, and food production. If human civilization is to endure, it must outgrow our conspicuous waste of time, effort, and natural resources. One area in which we see this is architecture. Resource conservation must be incorporated into our structures.

With a conscious and intelligent application of today’s science and technology, we can recreate the wetlands and encourage the symbiotic process between and among the elements of nature. This was not achievable in earlier times. While many urban centers grapple with retrofitting new, more efficient technologies into their existing infrastructures, these efforts fall far short of the potentials of technology. Not only must we rebuild our thought patterns, but much of our physical infrastructure, including buildings, waterways, power systems, production and distribution processes, and transportation systems must be reconstructed from the ground up. Only then can our technology overcome resource deficiencies and provide universal abundance.

If we are genuinely concerned about the environment and fellow human beings, and want to end territorial disputes, war, crime, poverty, hunger, and the other problems that confront us today, the intelligent use of science and technology are the tools with which to achieve a new direction. An approach which will serve all people, and not just a select few.

The purpose of this technology is to free people from repetitive and boring jobs and allow them to experience the fullness of human relationships, denied to so many for so long. This will call for a basic adjustment in the way we think about what makes us human.

Our times demand the declaration of the world’s resources as the common heritage of all people.

In a hundred years, historians may look back on our present civilization as a transition period from the dark ages of ignorance, superstition, and social insufficiency just as we view the world of one hundred years ago. If we arrive at a saner world in which the maximum human potential is cultivated in every person, our descendants will not understand why our world produced only one Louis Pasteur, one Edison, one Tesla, or one Salk, and why great achievements in our age were the products of a relative few.

In looking forward to this new millennium, and back at the dimmest memories of human civilization, we see that the thoughts, dreams, and visions of humanity are limited by a perception of scarcity.

We are products of a culture of deficiency which expects each confrontation and most activities to end with a winner and a loser. Funding restricts even technological development, which has the best potential to liberate humanity from its past insufficiencies. We can no longer afford the luxury of such primitive thinking.

There are other ways of looking at our lives and the world.

Either we learn to live together in full cooperation or we will cause our own extinction.

To fully understand and appreciate this coming age, we must understand the relationship between creation and creator: the machine and, as of this writing, that most marvelous of mechanisms the human being.

CHANGING VALUES IN AN EMERGING CULTURE

Any attempt to depict the future direction of civilization must include a description of the probable evolution of our culture without embellishment, propaganda, or national interest. We must reexamine our traditional habits of thought if we wish to avoid the consequences that will occur if we do not prepare for the future. It is unfortunate that most of us envision this future within our present social framework, using values and traditions that come from the past. Superficial changes perpetuate the problems of today. The challenges we face now cannot be addressed with antiquated notions and values that are no longer relevant.

Imagine a new planet with the same carrying capacity as Earth, and that you are free to design a new direction for the society on this planet. You can choose any shape or form. The only limitation imposed upon you is that your social design must correspond to the carrying capacity of that planet. This new planet has more than adequate arable land, clean air and water, and an abundance of untapped resources. This is your planet. You can rearrange the entire social order to correspond to whatever you consider the best of all possible worlds. Not only does this include environmental modification, but also human factors, interpersonal relationships, and the structuring of education.

This need not be complicated. It can be an uncluttered approach, not burdened by any past or traditional considerations, religious or otherwise. This is a prodigious project calling for many disciplines, determining the way inhabitants of your planet conduct their lives, keeping in mind for whom and for what ends this social order is being designed. Feel free to transcend present realities and reach for new and inventive ideas to shape your world of the future. An exciting exercise isn’t it? What we propose is nothing more, and nothing less, than applying that exercise to our planet.

To prepare for the future we must be willing to test new concepts. This means we must acquire enough information to evaluate these concepts, and not be like travelers in a foreign land who compare everything with their own hometown. To understand people of another place, we must set aside our usual expectations of behavior, and not judge by the values to which we are accustomed.

If you believe today’s values and virtues are absolute and ultimate for all times and all civilizations, then you may find our projection of the future shocking and unacceptable. We must feel and think as freshly as possible about the limitless possibilities of life patterns humankind may explore for attaining even higher levels of intelligence and fulfillment in the future.

Although individuals like Plato, Edward Bellamy, HG. Wells, Karl Marx, and Howard Scott have all made attempts to plan a new civilization, the established social order considered them impractical dreamers with Utopian designs that ran contrary to human nature. Against these social pioneers was a status quo of vested interests comfortable with the way things were. The populace at large, because of years of indoctrination, went along without thinking for the ride. Vested interests were unappointed guardians of the status quo. The outlook and philosophy of the leaders were consistent with their positions of advantage.

Despite advances achieved through objective scientific investigation, and the breaking down of longstanding fears and superstitions, the world is still not a reasonable place. Many attempts to make it so have failed because of selfish individual and national interests. Deeply rooted cultural norms that assume someone must lose for someone else to gain (scarcity at it’s most basic) still dictate most of our decisions. For example, we still cling to the concept of competition and accept inadequate compensation for people’s efforts, (i.e. the minimum wage), when such concepts no longer apply to our capabilities and resources, never mind their effect on human dignity and any possible elevation of the human condition.

At this turning point in our civilization, we find problems complicated by the fact that many of us still wait for someone, a messiah perhaps, the elusive “they”, or an extraterrestrial to save us. The irony of this is that, as we wait for someone to do it for us, we give up our freedom of choice and movement. We react rather than act toward events and issues.

The future is our responsibility, but change will not take place until the majority loses confidence in their dictators’ and elected officials’ ability to solve problems. It will likely take an economic catastrophe resulting in enormous human suffering to bring about true social change. Unfortunately, this does not guarantee that the change will be beneficial.

In times of conflict between nations, we still default to answering perceived threats with threats, developing weapons of mass destruction, and training people to use them against others whom we regard as enemies. Many social reformers try to solve problems of crime within the framework of the monetary system by building more prisons and enacting new laws.

There is gun legislation and a “three times and you’re out” provision in an attempt to govern crime and violence. This accomplishes little, yet requests for funding to build more prisons and hire more policemen fare far better in legislatures and voting referendums than do pleas for education or aid to the poor. Somehow in an era of plenty, we approve punishment as an answer to all problems. One symptom of insanity is repeating the same mistake over and over again and expecting a different outcome. Our society is, in this sense, truly insane.

The Manhattan Project developed the first atomic device to be used against human populations, and launched the most intensive and dangerous weapons build-up in history. The Manhattan Project was also one of the largest and best financed projects ever undertaken. If we are willing to spend that amount of money, resources, and human lives in time of war, why don’t we commit equal resources to improving lives and anticipating the humane needs of the future? The same energies that went into the Manhattan Project could be used to improve and update our way of life, and to achieve and maintain the optimal symbiotic relationship between nature and humankind.

If our system continues without modification involving environmental and social concern we will face an economic and social breakdown of our out-dated monetary and political system. When this occurs, the established government will likely enact a state of emergency or martial law in an attempt to prevent total chaos. I do not advocate this, but without the suffering of millions it may be nearly impossible to shake our complacency about the current ways of life.

OUT OF THE DARK AGES

Scientists in the space program face different challenges. For example, space scientists must develop new ways of eating in outer space. Astronauts’ clothing must withstand the vacuum of outer space, enormous temperature differentials, and radiation; yet remain lightweight and highly flexible. This new clothing design even calls for the development of self-repairing systems. Their challenge is to conceive of common items in completely new ways. In space for example clothing no longer functions as just body covering and adornment, it becomes a mini-habitat.

The space age is a good example of the search for newer and better ways of doing things. As scientists probe the limits of our universe, they must generate newer techniques and technologies for unexplored frontiers and never before encountered environments. If scientists cling to the concepts of their earlier training, their explorations will fail. Had our ancestors refused to accept new ideas, the physical sciences would have progressed little beyond the covered wagon.

Many young engineers, scientists, and architects face this dilemma. Bold and creative, they exit institutions of higher learning and step out into the world eager for change. They set out with great enthusiasm but are often beaten back and slowed by the established institutions and self-appointed guardians of tradition. Occasionally, some break away from traditional concepts and become innovators. They meet such tremendous resistance by antiquated building codes and other restrictions that their daring concepts are soon reduced to mediocrity.

Many of the dominant values shaping our present society are medieval. The idea that we live in an enlightened age, or an age of reason, has little basis in fact. We are overwhelmed with valid information concerning ourselves and our planet, but have no inkling of how to apply it. Most of our customs and modes of behavior have been handed down to us from the Dark Ages.

It was difficult for early forms of life to crawl out of the primordial slime without dragging some of it with them. So it is with entrenched value systems. The most appropriate place for traditional concepts is a museum or in books about the history of civilization.

The twenty first century will reveal what most people never suspected, which is that the majority of us have the potential of people like Leonardo da Vinci, Alexander Graham Bell and Madam Curie, if we are raised in an environment that encourages genuine individuality and creativity. This includes all the other characteristics thought of as the special and privileged heredity of great men and women. Even in today’s so called democratic society, fewer than four percent of the world’s people have supplied us with the scientific and artistic advances that sustain social systems.

SHAPING HUMAN VALUES

Humans of the future, though similar in appearance, will differ considerably in their outlook, values, and mindset. Social orders of the past that have continued into the twenty first century consistently seek to generate loyalty and conformity to established institutions as the only means to sustain a workable society. Countless laws, often passed after a misdeed has occurred, have been enacted in an attempt to govern the conduct of people. Those who do not conform are ostracized or imprisoned.

In the past, many social reformers and those called agitators by their detractors were not generally angry maladjusted individuals. They were often people with a sensitivity and concern for the needs of others who envisioned a better life for all. Among these were abolitionists, advocates for women’s suffrage and child labor laws, those who practiced non-violent resistance to oppression, and so called “freedom fighters”.

Today we accept without question the achievements of these reformers who faced violent opposition, imprisonment, ridicule, and even death from vested interests and the established order. Unfortunately most people are unaware of the identities of those individuals who helped pave the way toward social enlightenment.

Many of our parks have statues of warriors and statesman, but few have any monuments to the great social innovators. Perhaps when the history of the human race is finally written, it will be from the viewpoint of individuals in an alien and primitive culture who sought change in a world that had great tenacity to maintain things as they were.

Conformity in a population makes control of society much easier for its leaders. Our leaders pay lip service to the freedoms that democracy provides, while actually supporting an economic structure that imprisons it citizens under more and more debt. They claim that all have the opportunity to rise to the top through individual initiative and incentive. To appease those who work hard but do not achieve the good life, religion is there to assure them that if not in this life, they will obtain it in the next.

Our habits of thought and conduct show the effectiveness of constant and unrelenting propaganda on radio, on television, in publications, and in most other media. The propaganda is so effective that the average citizen is not insulted when categorized as a consumer as if a citizen’s only worth to society was as a user of goods. These patterns are gradually being modified and challenged by the Internet and the World Wide Web.

Most people expect that our televisions, computers, communications systems, methods of production and delivery of services, and even our concepts of work and reward, will continue to improve without any disruption or distress within our present value systems. But this is not necessarily so.

Our dominant values that emphasize competition and scarcity limit continued progress.

The most disruptive period in a transition from an established social order to an emergent system comes when people are not prepared emotionally or intellectually to adjust to change. People cannot simply erase all the beliefs and habits acquired in the past, which constitute their self-identity. Sudden changes in values without some preparation will cause many to lose their sense of identity and purpose, isolating them from a society they feel has passed them by. Another factor limiting the evaluation of alternative social proposals is a lack of understanding of basic scientific principles and the factors which shape culture and behavior.

The conflicts today between human beings are about opposing values. If we manage to arrive at a saner future, conflicts will be about problems common to all humans. In a vibrant and emergent culture, instead of conflicts between nations, the challenges will be overcoming scarcity, reclaiming damaged environments, creating innovative technologies, increasing agricultural yield, improving communications, building communications between nations, sharing technologies, and living a meaningful life.

WORK AND THE NEW LEISURE

From early civilizations to the present most humans had to work to earn a living. Most of our attitudes about work are a carry-over from these earlier times. In the past, and still in many low-energy cultures, it was necessary to fetch water and carry it to one’s dwelling place. People gathered wood to make fires for heating and cooking, and fuel to burn in their lamps. It would have been very difficult and still is for some to imagine a time when water would rush forth in your own dwelling at the turn of a handle; to press a button for instant light would have seemed to be magic. People of ancient times probably wondered what they would do with their time if they did not have to engage in these burdensome tasks that were so necessary to sustain their lives. In most developed countries, tasks that were once so vital to people’s very survival are no longer necessary, thanks to modern technology.

Today people attend schools to acquire marketable skills that enable them to earn a living in the “work-a-day” world. Recently, the belief that one must work to earn a living has been challenged. Working for a living to supply the necessities of life may soon be irrelevant as modern technology can provide most of these needs. As a result, many jobs have gone the way of the iceman and the elevator operator. Perhaps we have a semantic problem with the word “work.” The idea of “freedom from work” should include the elimination of repetitive and boring tasks that hold back our intellectual growth. Most jobs, from blue-collar assembly worker to professional, entail repetitious and uninteresting tasks. Human beings possess an untapped potential that they will finally be able to explore once they are free of the burden of having to work to earn a living.

At present there are no plans in government or industry to make economic adjustments to deal with the displacement of people by automated technology. It is no longer the repetitious work of laborers that cybernation is able to phase out, but also many other vocations and professions. Engineers, technicians, scientists, doctors, architects, artists, and actors will all have their roles altered, sometimes drastically. Therefore, it is imperative that we explore alternatives so as to improve our social constructs, beliefs, and quality of life to secure and sustain a future for all.

LANGUAGE OF RELEVANCE

Of the many entrenched barriers to positive change, communication is one of the most intractable. Language has evolved over centuries through ages of scarcity, superstition, and social insufficiency, and it is continuing to evolve. However, language often contains ambiguity and uncertainty when important issues are at stake, and fails to use a precise and universally intelligible means of conveying knowledge. It is difficult for the average person, or even those considered above average, including leaders of nations, to share ideas with others whose worldview may be at considerable variance with their own. Also, because of semantic differences and different experiences, words have various shades of meaning.

What would happen if we made contact with an alien civilization, when we have such difficulty making contact with our fellow human beings? We are not ready for such an encounter. We haven’t yet learned to resolve international differences by peaceful methods, so peace is simply a pause between wars.

Even in the United States, supposedly the most technologically advanced country in the world, we lack a unified, definitively stated direction. Our policies and goals are fragmented and contradictory. The Democrats cannot communicate meaningfully with the Republicans. Elsewhere, the Israelis oppose the Arabs, the Irish Catholics clash with the Irish Protestants, the Serbs with the Muslims. Everywhere there is interracial and interpersonal disharmony, an inability of husbands and wives to communicate with each other or their children, labor and management strife, and communists differing with capitalists. How then can we hope to establish any meaningful communication with an alien civilization, with beings possessing intelligence, social coherence, and technologies far in advance of our own?

The aliens might well wonder whether there really is intelligent life on Earth.

Most world leaders seek to achieve greater communication and understanding among the nations of the world. Unfortunately, their efforts have met with little success. One reason is that each comes to the table determined to achieve the optimal advantage for their own nation. We talk a lot about global development and global cooperation. But the “global” in each case reflects the individual nation’s interests and not those of all people.

In addition, we are trapped within old ways of looking at our world. While most agree change is necessary, many limit change if it threatens their advantage, just as on a personal basis they seek change in others, but not in themselves.

Many of us lack the skills to communicate logically when we are emotionally invested in an outcome. If a person or group has difficulty in communicating a point in question, rather than seek clarification, then they will raise their voices. If this does not produce the desired effect, they may include profanity or intimidating language. If this doesn’t work, they may resort to physical violence, punishment, or deprivation as a means of achieving the desired behavior. In some instances, deprivation of the means of earning a living has been, and continues to be, used.

These tactics have never produced a heightened level of understanding. In fact, many of these attempts to control behavior actually increased violence and drive the parties farther apart. It will be difficult for a future historian to understand why the language of science and technology was not incorporated into everyday communication.

THE LANGUAGE OF SCIENCE

Ambiguity may help lawyers, preachers, and politicians, but it doesn’t work in building bridges, dams, power projects, flying machines, or in space travel. For these activities we need the language of science. Despite a maze of ambiguity in normal conversation, the more serviceable language of science is coming into use throughout the world, particularly in technologically advanced countries. If communication is to improve, we need a language that correlates highly with the environment and human needs. We already have such a language in the scientific and technological communities and it’s easily understood by many.

In other words, it is already possible to use a coherent means of communication without ambivalence. If we apply the same methods used in the physical sciences to psychology, sociology, and the humanities, a lot of unnecessary conflict could be resolved. In engineering, mathematics, chemistry, and other technical fields, we have the nearest thing to a universal descriptive language that requires little in the way of individual interpretation. For instance, if a blueprint for an automobile is used in any technologically developed society anywhere in the world, the finished product would be the same as that in other areas receiving the same blueprint, regardless of their political or religious beliefs.

The language used by the average person is inadequate for resolving conflict, but the language of science is relatively free of ambiguities and the conflicts prevalent in our everyday, emotionally driven language. It is deliberately designed as opposed to evolving haphazardly through centuries of cultural change to state problems in terms that are verifiable and readily understood by most.

Most technical strides would have been unattainable without this type of improved communication. Without a common descriptive language, we would have been unable to prevent disease, increase crop yields, talk over thousands of miles, or build bridges, dams, transportation systems, and the many other technological marvels of this computerized age. Unfortunately, the same is not true of conversational language. Attempts to discuss or evaluate newer concepts in social design are greatly limited by our habit of comparing newer concepts to existing systems and beliefs.

IT’S A SEMANTIC JUNGLE OUT THERE

Utopian ideals have existed for as long as humans have dealt with problems and reflected upon a world free of them. The writers of scriptural references to Eden, Plato’s Republic, HG. Wells’ Shape of Things to Come, and such concepts as socialism, communism, democracy, and the ultimate expression of bliss, Heaven, have all shared this Utopian dream. All attempts at creating such a world have fallen far short of their vision, because the dreamers and visionaries who projected their Utopian concepts did so mostly within the framework and values of their existing culture. The language they used was limited and subject to a wide range of individual interpretation.

*

from

The Best That Money Can’t Buy, Beyond Politics, Poverty, and War

by Jacque Fresco

get it at Amazon.com


Education Saved My Life – Mohamed Sidibay * 260 million children aren’t in school. This $10bn plan could change that – Gordon Brown.

Developing countries receive just $10 per child annually in global education support, barely enough to cover the cost of a single textbook. In an age of self-driving cars and smart refrigerators, this dearth of funding is simply unacceptable.

The world is in the midst of an education crisis, as half of the planet’s young people are failing to learn the basic skills needed to secure a more prosperous future. One former child soldier and soon-to-be law student promotes a strategy for putting money behind politicians’ platitudes.

New York

My family was murdered before I could tie my shoes. As a young boy in Sierra Leone, years that should have been playful and carefree were spent fighting in someone else’s war. For me, childhood was a nightmare; escape always seemed impossible. But when the war officially ended, in 2002, I began finding ways to recover.

One of the most important has been an opportunity I couldn’t have imagined as an angry, illiterate, nine year old soldier: school.

I am living proof of the transformative power of education.

Thanks to hard work and lots of good fortune, I managed to graduate from high school and then university. Now, in just a few months, I will begin graduate classes at the Fordham University School of Law, an unimaginable destination for most of the former child soldiers in my country.

And yet, throughout my brief educational journey, one question has always nagged me: why did luck play such a crucial role? After all, education is supposed to be a universal human right. If only it were that simple.

Today, more than 260 million children are out of school, and over 500 million boys and girls who do attend are not receiving a quality education, as the International Commission on Financing Global Education Opportunity discovered.

By 2030, more than half of the world’s school age children some 800 million kids will lack the basic skills needed to thrive or secure a job in the workplace of the future.

Addressing this requires money. But while education may be the best investment a government can make to ensure a better future for its people, education financing worldwide is far too low. In fact, education accounts for just 10% of total international development aid, down from 13% a decade ago. To put this in perspective:

Developing countries receive just $10 per child annually in global education support, barely enough to cover the cost of a single textbook. In an age of self-driving cars and smart refrigerators, this dearth of funding is simply unacceptable.

Over the past few years, I have advocated on behalf of three global education initiatives the International Commission on Financing Global Education Opportunity (Education Commission), the Global Partnership for Education (GPE), and the Education Cannot Wait fund (ECW). I have done so eagerly, because these organizations are working collectively toward the same goal: to raise funds to make quality education for every child, everywhere, more than a matter of luck.

One of the best ways to do this is by supporting the International Finance Facility for Education, an initiative spearheaded by the Education Commission that could unlock the greatest global investment in education ever recorded. Young people around the world understand what’s at stake. Earlier this month, Global Youth Ambassadors presented a petition, signed by more than 1.5 million children in some 80 countries, to United Nations Secretary General Antonio Guterres, calling for the UN to support the finance facility.

By leveraging roughly $2 billion in donor guarantees, the finance facility aims to make $8 billion in new funding available to countries that need it most. If adopted widely, the program could make it possible for developing countries to provide quality education to millions more children, including refugees, young girls, and former child soldiers like me.

Politicians often say that young people are the leaders of tomorrow. That’s true; we are. But platitudes not backed by financial support are meaningless. Simply put, the world must unite to fund quality education for everyone.

The International Finance Facility for Education which is already backed by the World Bank, regional development banks, GPE, ECW, and numerous UN agencies is among the best ways to make that happen.

Twenty years ago, law school was an impossible dream for me. Today, thanks to hard work, global support, and much good fortune, my future is brighter than it has ever been. But my story should not be an exception.

To ensure that others can gain a quality education and follow the path that has opened up to me, we must remove luck from the equation.

*
Mohamed Sidibay is a youth representative to the International Commission on Financing Global Education Opportunity, a peace activist at the Global Partnership for Education, and a former peace ambassador with the My Hero Project.

260 million children aren’t in school. This $10bn plan could change that Gordon Brown.

Chronic Childhood Stress and a Dysfunctional Family – Kylie Matthews * Different Adversities Lead to Similar Health Problems – Donna Jackson Nakazawa.

Children from unhappy, dysfunctional families who experience chronic adversity undergo changes in brain architecture that create lasting physical scars, that look pretty similar no matter who you are, where you lived, or what happened to make you unhappy when you were growing up.

Happy families may succeed not because of what they do right, but because of everything they don’t do wrong.

The stress of Adverse Childhood Experiences causes toxicity to the neurons and neural pathways that integrate different areas of the brain. These brain changes have a profound effect on our decision making abilities, self regulatory processes, attention, emotional regulation, thoughts, and behavior.

Cutting her mother out of her life was the only conceivable way she could survive.
Janet Camilleri reveals why she cut ties with her mother.

Kylie Matthews

What do you do when a close family relationship, such as a parent or sibling, becomes so dysfunctional it’s toxic?

For some, completely cutting off from that person can be the only solution for them to heal and move forward but it‘s by no means ever an easy one.

Blogger and mother of two Janet Camilleri, 51, is a survivor of a childhood overshadowed by violence and psychological abuse so profound that cutting her mother out of her life was the only conceivable way she could survive.

“My mother was violent, irrational her mood could change at the drop of a hat,” she recalls. “I call it the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde personality because she was a very outgoing, extroverted, life of the party type person in the company of others but at home she was like the devil and you just never knew what would trigger her.

I would have ended up a basket case if I’d kept her in my life as just a phone call with her would reduce me to a quivering lump of jelly, that was the effect she had on me. For the sake of my own marriage and children, I had to cut her off to look after my own mental health.”

My Mum, the narcissist

Janet describes her mother regularly sabotaging her school work, throwing things around the room in a rage, embarrassing her at school and in front of friends, playing favourites with her siblings, using her as a gobetween to pitch venom at her father and regularly inflicting physical violence in the home.

In hindsight, Janet says she recognises that her mother had many severe narcissistic traits exacerbated by other personality disorders, and underlined by a clinical diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

Helen Gibbons, Director and Principal Psychologist of Australia’s Autogenic Therapy and Training Institute, says that toxic behaviour in families can be identified by dysfunctional dynamics.

“Most commonly you see in any dysfunctional set up narcissistic traits in one or more family members that, in its most severe form, can result in premeditated abusive, manipulative and controlling behaviours,” she says.

Narcissism is a condition that presents a set of personality traits such as arrogance, selfcentredness, manipulation, a lack of empathy and remorse, dishonesty, dominance, a strong sense of entitlement, an inability to handle criticism and a grandiose sense of self.

When children grow up in the shadow of a severe narcissist, Ms Gibbons says their emotional needs are seldom met.

“These children are having their brains shaped based on a lack of positive stimulation, love and validation, which does seem to impact heavily on the formation of their limbic system and, in particular, the amygdala, the centre of emotional control in the brain,” she says.

Janet describes her mother’s behaviour becoming increasingly worse after her parents separated and, as her mother’s mental health continued to deteriorate, at the age of just 10 years old, Janet was thrust into the role of ‘carer’ for her younger siblings.

“For a lot of it I protected the younger ones; I was like a mother figure to them because Mum just wasn’t capable of it,” she explains. “It was a lot of responsibility Mum dumped a lot of stuff on me that a kid that age should never be exposed to.”

Leaving home

One Christmas, things came to a head and Janet says she stood up to her mother for the first time and told her she was leaving, to which her mother replied, ‘If you leave, you will never be able to come back’.

“I was nearly 20 years old and I was like, ‘I just can’t do this anymore’. I cut off from her then and we didn’t talk after that for about eight months,” she says. “I had no money, no job and very little support; I just had to survive.”

Janet tried to reinstate contact with her mum at least three times after that. “I tried really hard but it was always awkward and strained,” she says. ”She always upset me whenever we spoke on the phone.”

Janet continued to walk on eggshells, as she had always done, and accommodated poor behaviour to keep the peace, even forgiving her mother for not attending her wedding. But just prior to the birth of her first child, after yet another argument, Janet decided enough was enough and cut off from her mother for the last time.

Cutting off communication

Ms Gibbons says that for people like Janet, any attempt to communicate and rectify problems in a rational way with the narcissistic family member would most likely result in even more abusive behaviour.

“Malignant narcissists are experts at blaming others and the family scapegoat is always the easiest target so cutting off contact may be the only option available to them for a peaceful life,” she says. “No contact literally means no contact ..You don’t explain yourself, you disappear, block them on Facebook and don’t return phone calls.”

Once you’ve gone ‘no contact’, however, you can go into shock and potentially suffer from acute stress symptoms.

“It can be a very lonely and confusing time going no contact because you may find that you are not getting the understanding, support and validation you so desperately need from those around you,” Ms Gibbons says. “When you tell your friends, a lot of people, even though they’re well meaning, believe that all mothers love their children.

“A very common experience is that the friends that you want to believe and validate you will immediately try and support the mother in some way, by saying, ‘Oh yes, but she loves you’ or, ‘Being a parent is difficult’, so it can be very lonely and confusing.”

Janet says the pressure she felt from her family, friends and colleagues to reconcile with her mother was significant. “I was part of a church and the pressure I felt was huge,” she says. “In church, nobody could understand because it’s like, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother’ and all that and I felt like the lowest of the low for not being able to do that.

“I remember talking to somebody at work once, an older fellow, I was pretty bitter and upset at the time, and I mentioned something about my mum that was probably not very nice and he turned to me and said, ‘I think it’s disgusting the way you talk about your mother’. I was just gobsmacked.”

The toxic devastation

Janet went on to survive her childhood but says by the time she managed to escape it, the damage had already been done. “I just tried to be a good kid and to stay out of trouble … I didn’t want to attract her attention because she’d thump me if I did,” she says. “Growing up in a household like mine leads to a few issues so I’ve been and seen a psychologist to help me out at different times.”

Ms Gibbons can’t stress enough the importance of therapy for people who have experienced this kind of trauma.

“Therapy is really important for someone who has suffered abuse from narcissistic family members,” she says. ”it’s so important to speak with a psychologist who is experienced in psychological abuse and to work through the impact that those relationships have had on you so that you can start to make better, healthier choices.”

Janet suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) after leaving home, which later developed into postnatal depression after the birth of both her children.

“I remember going shopping with my kids and seeing other young women with their babies and their mums by their side and just bursting into tears,” she says. “I was like, ‘Why don’t I have a mum like that?‘ I have a wonderful, supportive husband but it very much felt like I was on my own at that time.”

The final blow

It was five years after her mother’s death that Janet first learnt of her passing by accident. And despite having been estranged from her mother for almost 20 years, her grief sent her into a spiral of total despair.

“I was just devastated, I always thought I’d done my mourning when the kids were little because that was a really tough time and I’d grieved the loss of the relationship then, but I think deep down I always hoped that one day a miracle would happen and we’d work it out,” she says. “Even though we were estranged, I never wished ill for her and I sincerely wanted Mum to be happy, despite everything.”

To add insult to injury, Janet learned that she hadn’t been told of her mother’s death at the time because her mum had specifically requested she and her siblings not be. “To learn that she had been so bitter, so twisted and angry, right up until the moment of her death makes me very sad,” she says.

Hope and healing

Despite the devastation she felt over her mother’s passing, Janet says she has no regrets about cutting off communication.

“I didn’t feel guilty when I found out because I knew I’d done everything I humanly could to try and have a relationship with my mother and that no matter what I did, I would never, ever have pleased her so it was never going to work,” she says.

“It helped that I had my wonderful husband beside me saying, ‘You need to get rid of this influence in your life’ and he helped me to be strong and to realise that other people might not approve but that it was something I had to do.”

Some years ago, while driving her young children to school, Janet recalls pulling up beside a bus that had an advertisement about child abuse. “A little voice from the back seat asked, ‘That’s what happened to you, didn’t it, Mummy?‘ and I said, ‘Yes, it was, she says.

“And they’d replied, ‘It’s OK, Mummy, we love you now’.”

Different Adversities Lead to Similar Health Problems

Donna Jackson Nakazawa

The opening line of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”, has inspired a philosophical dictum called “The Anna Karenina Principle.” The idea is this: it’s possible to fail at something in many ways; it’s far harder to succeed at something, because success requires not failing in any of those ways.

Happy families may succeed not because of what they do right, but because of everything they don’t do wrong.

And according to ACE research, 64 percent of us grew up in families in which at least one thing went wrong: we’ve had at least one Adverse Childhood Experience. Every one of these unhappy families may be unhappy in its own, unique way. But there is one way in which unhappy families are alike, according to neurobiologists who study childhood adversity:

Children from unhappy, dysfunctional families who experience chronic adversity undergo changes in brain architecture that create lasting physical scars that look pretty similar no matter who you are, where you lived, or what happened to make you unhappy when you were growing up.

How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology

To better understand how toxic childhood stress changes our brain, let’s first review how our stress response is supposed to work when it’s functioning optimally.

Let’s say you’re lying in bed and everyone else in the house is asleep. It’s one am. You hear a creak on the steps. Then another creak. Now it sounds as if someone is in the hallway. You feel a sudden rush of alertness, even before your conscious mind weighs the possibilities of what might be going on. A small region in your brain known as the hypothalamus releases hormones that stimulate two little glands, the pituitary and adrenal glands, to pump chemicals throughout your body. Adrenaline and cortisol trigger immune cells to secrete powerful messenger molecules that whip up your body’s immune response.

Your pulse drums under your skin as you lie there, listening. The hair on the surface of your arms stands up. Muscles tighten. Your body gets charged up to do battle in order to protect life and limb.

Then you recognize those footsteps as those of your teenager coming up the steps after finishing his midnight bowl of cereal. Your body relaxes. Your muscles loosen. The hair on your arms flattens back down. Your hypothalamus, as well as your pituitary and adrenal glands, the “HPA stress axis”, calm down. And, whew, so do you.

When you have a healthy stress response, you respond quickly and appropriately to stress. After the stressful event, your body dampens down the fight-or-flight response. Your system recovers and returns to a baseline state of rest and recovery. In other words, you pass through both the first and the second half of the human stress cycle, coming full circle.

Even so, emotions affect our body in real and significant ways. Emotions are physical. We feel a “knot in our stomach,” or get “all choked up,” or see a relative or coworker as a “big pain in the neck.”

There is a powerful relationship between mental stress and physical inflammation. When we experience stressful emotions, anger, fear, worry, anxiety, rumination, grief, loss, the HPA axis releases stress hormones, including cortisol and inflammatory cytokines, that promote inflammation.

Let’s say your immune system has to fight a viral or bacterial infection. Lots of white blood cells charge to the site of the infection. Those white blood cells secrete inflammatory cytokines to help destroy the infiltrating pathogens and repair damaged tissues. However, when those cytokines aren’t well regulated, or become too great in number, rather than repair tissue, they cause tissue damage. Toxic shock syndrome is an extreme example of how this can happen in the body very quickly.

More subtle types of tissue damage can happen slowly, over time, in response to chronic stress. When your system is repeatedly overstimulated, it begins to downshift its response to stress. On the face of it, that might sound like it’s a good thing, as if a downshifted stress response should translate into less inflammation, right?

But remember, this stress response is supposed to react to a big stressor, pump into defensive action, then quickly recover and return to a state of quiet homeostasis, relaxing into rest and recovery.

The problem is, when you are facing a lot of chronic stress, the stress response never shuts off. You’re caught, perpetually, in the first half of the stress cycle. There is no state of recovery. Instead, the stress response is always mildly on, pumping out a chronic low dose of inflammatory chemicals.

The stress glands, the hypothalamus, the HPA axis, secrete low levels of stress hormones all the time, leading to chronic cytokine activity and inflammation.

In simplest terms: chronic stress leads to a dysregulation of our stress hormones, which leads to unregulated inflammation. And inflammation translates into symptoms and disease.

This is the basic science on how stress hormones play a part in orchestrating our immune function and the inflammatory process. And it explains why we see such a significant link between individuals who experience chronic stress and significantly higher levels of inflammation and disease.

As Stanford professor Robert Sapolsky, PhD, a MacArthur Fellowship recipient for his research on the neurobiological impact of emotional stress on the immune system, has said:

“The stress response does more damage than the stressor itself as we wallow in stress hormones.”

Research bears out the relationship between stress and physical inflammation. For example, adults under the stress of taking care of spouses with dementia display increased levels of a cytokine that increases inflammation. Likewise, if an adult sibling dies, your risk of having a heart attack rises greatly. If you’re pregnant and face a big, stressful event, your chance of miscarrying doubles. Encountering serious financial problems raises a man’s risk of falling down and being injured in the months that follow. A child’s death triples a parent’s chance of developing multiple sclerosis. States of intense emotional fear or loss can precipitate a type of cardiomyopathy known as “broken heart syndrome,” a severe physical weakening of the heart muscle that presents almost exactly like, and is often misdiagnosed as, a full-blown heart attack.

Why Stress Is More Damaging to a Child

Emotional stress in adult life affects us on a physical level in quantifiable, life-altering ways.

But when children or teens meet up with emotional stressors and adversity, they leave even deeper scars.

These potential stressors include chronic put-downs, emotional neglect, parental divorce, a parent’s death, the mood shifts of a depressed or addicted parent, sexual abuse, medical trauma, the loss of a sibling, and physical or community violence. In each case, the HPA (hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenal) stress response can become reprogrammed so that it revs up one’s inflammatory stress hormone response for the rest of one’s life.

In young and growing children, the HPA stress axis is developing, and healthy maturation is heavily influenced by the safety or lack of safety we encounter in the day-to-day environment. When a young brain is repeatedly thrust into a state of hyperarousal or anxiety because of what’s happening at a child’s home, community, or school, the stress axis gets tipped into reaction over and over again, and the body becomes routinely flooded with inflammatory stress neurochemicals. This can lead to deep physiological changes that lead to long lasting inflammation and disease.

More than half of women suffering from irritable bowel syndrome report childhood trauma. Children whose parents divorce are far more likely to have strokes as adults. ACE Scores are linked to a far greater likelihood of diseases including cancer, lung disease, diabetes, asthma, headaches, ulcers, multiple sclerosis, lupus, irritable bowel syndrome, and chronic fatigue.

The more categories of Adverse Childhood Experiences a child has faced, the greater the chances of developing heart disease as an adult. Again, a child who has 7 or more ACEs grows up with a 360 percent higher chance of developing heart disease.

Medical Adverse Experience

Not all Adverse Childhood Experiences are about poor parenting.

Michele had the kind of lovely parents who created a home life that fits the happy family mold; they gave their son and daughter all the parental love and support that every child deserves. “Life was good,” Michele says. Then, when she was thirteen years old, she had a bladder infection and was placed on a routine course of antibiotics. “Within twenty-four hours I had a headache and rash.”

Michele’s doctor told Michele’s mom, “it’s a virus.”

But the rash didn’t go away. Michele started wincing at bright lights. The eye doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Blisters began developing along her upper lip. The pediatrician didn’t know what to do, so Michele’s parents took her to the hospital. They saw a dermatologist who had read about Michele’s symptoms in an article. He thought she might have Stevens-Johnson syndrome, or SJS, a rare illness caused by a severe allergic reaction to a medication.

Michele was admitted to Columbia Presbyterian hospital in New York City. Within twenty four hours blisters the size of large hands broke out across her body. At first, they covered “30 percent of my body, then 100 percent,” Michele says. She was diagnosed with an advanced form of SJS, known as toxic epidermal necrolysis syndrome, or TENS. The bowl sized blisters began to “connect and combine until my entire torso was one enormous blister. Even my corneas were blistered.”

Today, when patients develop TENS, they’re put in an induced coma, because the physical pain is simply too unbearable. But in 1981, when Michele was diagnosed with the illness, doctors “just watched the progression.” Her physicians converted Michele’s hospital room into a burn unit, she looked like a burn victim, so she was treated as if she’d been rescued from a fire. “I felt as if I were being scalped over every inch of my skin.” Michele says she started dissociating from her body. “My body and l parted ways in that hospital, we stopped talking to each other. I couldn’t bear to feel that pain.”

Miraculously, Michele survived. She missed two months of school, while her mom helped to nurse her back to health. Little by little, life began to regain a rhythm of normality, except for the fear Michele still carried within. Every year on the anniversary of the day she was first admitted to the hospital, “my hair would fall out,” she says. “Then it would grow slowly back in.” Michele attended the University of Pennsylvania and held it together, but the whole time, she says, “I was having insomnia and recurring nightmares.” In her late twenties she was diagnosed with chronic fatigue, Epstein-Barr virus, and irritable bowel syndrome. “I had terrible muscle pains all over my body and chronic sinus infections. I had trouble sitting still for even five minutes because of the pain.” Her liver enzymes went “sky high.” It was, she says, “one mysterious illness after another.”

And then, at the age of thirty five, Michele’s doctor sat her down and told her that she had “severe, advanced osteoporosis.” Her bones were going to start disintegrating, he said. “If we don’t get this under control, sometime in the next ten years your bones are going to spontaneously crumble.”

Michele’s early adversity had nothing to do with bad parenting. But her early life stress was extreme, and the damage that stress did to her developing immune system and cells was just as corrosive.

Life is complex and messy, and suffering comes in many forms. Bad things happen. Parents get sick or pass away. Accidents come out of nowhere, as do medical crises.

How do the biophysical changes and inflammation triggered by very different types of early childhood adversity translate years later into autoimmune diseases, heart disease, and cancer?

Flipping Crucial Genetic Switches

On an unusually brisk December morning, Margaret McCarthy, PhD, professor of neuroscience at the University of Maryland School of Medicine, meets me at a downtown Baltimore coffee shop. Her schedule is tight, so we pick up two cups of soup to go and head to her office. As we enter the hall that serves as the main artery for McCarthy’s four room lab, we pass a sign that says, “Research saves lives,” on a large photo of a young, smiling girl holding a stuffed bunny. McCarthy has taught science for years to med students, grad students, and even high schoolers, whom she takes on as lab assistants to help “turn them on to science.”

She offers a primer on what research has unveiled about childhood adversity and altered brain development.

“Early stress causes changes in the brain that reset the immune system so that either you no longer respond to stress or you respond in an exacerbated way and can’t shut off that stress response,” she says.

This change to our lifelong stress response happens through a process known as epigenetics. Epigenetic changes occur when early environmental influences both good (nurturing caregivers, a healthy diet, clean air and water) and bad (stressful conditions, poor diet, infections, or harmful chemicals) permanently alter which genes become active in the body.

These epigenetic shifts take place due to a process called gene methylation. McCarthy explains, “Our DNA is not just sitting there. It’s wrapped up very tightly and coated in protected proteins, which together make up the chromosome. It doesn’t matter what your genome is; what matters is how your genome is expressed. And for genes to be expressed properly, the chromosome has to be unwound and opened up, like a flower, right at that particular gene.”

McCarthy unfurls the fingers of both hands. “Imagine this,” she says. “You’re watching a flower bloom, and as it opens up, it’s covered with blemishes.” She folds several of her fingers back in, as if they’re suddenly unable to budge. “Those blemishes keep it from flourishing as it otherwise would. If, when our DNA opens up, it’s covered with these methylation marks, that gene can’t express itself properly in the way that it should.”

When such “epigenetic silencing” occurs, McCarthy continues, these small chemical markers, also known as methyl groups, adhere to specific genes that are supposed to govern the activity of stress hormone receptors in our brain. These chemical markers silence important genes in the segment of our genome that oversees our hippocampus’s regulation of stress hormones in adulthood. When the brain can’t moderate our biological stress response, it goes into a state of constant hyperarousal and reactivity. Inflammatory hormones and chemicals keep coursing through the body at the slightest provocation.

In other words, when a child is young and his brain is still developing, if he is repeatedly thrust into a state of fight or flight, this chronic stress state causes these small, chemical markers to disable the genes that regulate the stress response, preventing the brain from properly regulating its response for the rest of his life.

Researcher Joan Kaufman, PhD, director of the Child and Adolescent Research and Education (CARE) program at Yale School of Medicine, analyzed the DNA in the saliva of ninety six children who’d been taken away from their parents due to abuse or neglect as well as that of ninety six other children who were living in what we might think of as seemingly happy family settings. Kaufman found significant differences in epigenetic markers in the DNA of the children who’d faced hardship, in almost three thousand sites on their DNA, and on all twenty three chromosomes.

The children who’d been maltreated and separated from their parents showed epigenetic changes in specific sites on the human genome that determine how appropriately and effectively they will later respond to life’s stressors.

Seth Pollak, PhD, professor of psychology and director of the Child Emotion Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin, found that fifty children with a history of adversity and trauma showed changes in a gene that helps to manage stress by signaling the cortisol response to quiet down so that the body can return to a calm state after a stressor. But because this gene was damaged, the body couldn’t rein in its heightened stress response. Says Pollak:

“A crucial set of brakes are off.”

This is only one of hundreds of genes that are altered when a child faces adversity.

When the HPA stress axis is overloaded in childhood or the teenage years, it leads to long lasting side effects, not just because of the impact stress has on us at that time in our lives, but also because early chronic stress biologically reprograms how we will react to stressful events for our entire lives. That long term change creates a new physiological set point for how actively our endocrine and immune function will churn out a damaging cocktail of stress neurochemicals that barrage our bodies and cells when we’re thirty, forty, fifty, and beyond. Once the stress system is damaged, we overrespond to stress and our ability to recover naturally from that reactive response mode is impaired. We’re always responding.

Imagine for a moment that your body receives its stress hormones and chemicals through an IV drip that’s turned on high when needed, and when the crisis passes, it’s switched off again. Now think of it this way: kids whose brains have undergone epigenetic changes because of early adversity have an inflammation promoting drip of fight-or-flight hormones turned on high every day, and there is no off switch.

When the HPA stress system is turned on and revved to go all the time, we are always caught in that first half of the stress cycle. We unwittingly marinate in those inflammatory chemicals for decades, which sets the stage for symptoms to be at full throttle years down the road, in the form of irritable bowel syndrome, autoimmune disease, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, fibroid tumors, ulcers, heart disease, migraines, asthma, and cancer.

These changes that make us vulnerable to specific diseases are already evident in childhood. Joan Kaufman and her colleagues discovered, in the first study to find such direct correlations, that:

Children who had been neglected showed significant epigenetic differences “across the entire genome” including in genes implicated in cardiovascular disease, diabetes, obesity, and cancer.

Yet by the time signs of an autoimmune condition creep up at forty or a heart condition rears its head at fifty, we often can’t link what happened when we were children to our adult illness. We become used to that old sense of emotional stress, of not being okay. It just seems normal. We have a long daily commute, a thirty year mortgage, and our particular mix of family dynamics. We generally deal with it and we’re usually okay. Then something minuscule happens: we have an argument with our sister over something said at a family dinner; we get a notice in the mail that our insurance isn’t going to cover a whopping medical bill; the refrigerator tanks the day before a big dinner party; our boss approves a colleague’s ideas in a meeting and ignores ours; a car honks long and hard as it swerves from behind to cut in front of us on the freeway. We react to these events as if they are a matter of life or death. We trigger easily. We begin to realize that we’re not so fine.

An adult who came of age without experiencing traumatic childhood stress might meet the same stressor and experience that same spike in cortisol, but once that stressor has passed, he or she quickly returns to a state of rest and relaxation. But if we had early trauma, our adult HPA stress axis can’t distinguish between real danger and perceived stress. Each time we get sidetracked by a stressful event, it sends split-second signals that cause our immune system to rev into high gear. We get that adrenaline rush but the genes that should tell our stress system to return to a state of rest and relaxation don’t do their job.

Over days and years, the disparity between a long “cortisol recovery” period and a short one makes a significant, life changing difference in the number of hours we spend marinating in our own inflammatory stress hormones. And over time, that can deeply distort your life.

The Ever Alert Child

Adults with Adverse Childhood Experiences are on alert. It’s a habit they learned in childhood, when they couldn’t be sure when they’d face the next high tension situation.

After her terrifying childhood illness, Michele never felt at peace, or whole, as an adult: “I was afraid I could be blindsided by any small medical crisis that could morph and change my entire life.”

Laura, as an adult, holds a high profile DC job that requires lightning decisions and heightened awareness. She’s good at it since, as a child, Laura and her brain learned to always be on high alert for the next snipe from her mother, as if being prepared could make it hurt less. “I became an expert at gauging my mom’s moods,” she says. “Whenever I was in the same room with her, I was thinking about how to slink away.”

By the time she was nine, Laura had learned to be “unconsciously on the lookout for a very subtle narrowing of my mom’s eyes,” which would tell her that she was about to be blamed for “something I didn’t even know that I’d done, like eating half of a sandwich in the fridge or taking too long to tie my shoe.” Laura grew up “learning to toe my way forward, as if blindfolded, to figure out what was coming next, where the next emotional ledge might be, so I wouldn’t get too near to my mother’s sharp edges?

From Laura’s perspective, her mom was dangerous. “I knew she would never physically hurt me,” she explains. “But I was terrified, even when she was in a good mood. At night, when I would hear her lightly snoring, I would feel this overwhelming sense of freedom, relief.”

Laura’s life was never at risk of course, she lived in a safe suburban neighborhood, had food to eat, clothes to wear. But she felt as if her life was at stake. Like all children whose parents display terrifying behavior, Laura carried the overwhelming biological fear that if her primary caregiver turned against her, she would not survive. After all, if the person upon whom you depend for food, shelter, and life itself, turns on you, how are you going to stay alive in the world? You feel as if your life depends on the adult’s goodwill, because when you were very small, how your caregiver treated you really was a matter of life or death.

As an adult, Laura “schooled” herself to believe that the early adversity she faced wasn’t that bad compared with that of other people who also grew up with alcoholic, angry, divorced, or depressed parents. She keeps telling herself that she’s over her childhood troubles.

But her body is far from over them. Laura lives with heart disease and a defibrillator in her chest. Like Michele, her anxiety sensors are set on high alert, and she doesn’t know how to turn them off.

The Rattled Cage

We might reasonably intuit that some types of childhood adversity are more damaging to us than others. For instance, we’d expect that the trauma that Kat experienced in knowing that her father murdered her mother would have a dramatically worse biological impact on her than Laura’s having been chronically put down by her depressive mom.

We’d certainly assume that Kat’s story would be more biologically damaging than that of Ellie, who was the second youngest of five children and grew up in a quiet suburban neighborhood outside Philadelphia. Ellie remembers having a very close relationship with her parents, but, as she got older, she says, “I knew something wasn’t right. My two oldest brothers were time bombs of violent emotion, just waiting to go off. Sitting at the dinner table with my parents, talking about politics, they’d start fighting each other over nothing at all, and the fights got ugly.”

Soon the boys were getting into trouble with alcohol and drugs, “and the police started showing up.” Ellie recalls, “I’d often hear my parents and my brothers screaming at each other at two in the morning. My mom and dad would come in my room and tell my little sister and me not to be scared, that everything was okay, but it was terrifying,” especially when her older brother ended up in jail.

Ellie got good grades, despite the stressors at home, and went to college in California on an athletic scholarship. But, after college, she began having suicidal thoughts and, at age twenty-four, was diagnosed with severe autoimmune psoriasis. “My body was attacking itself,” she says.

According to ACE research, growing up with a family member who is in jail is related to a much higher risk of poor health related outcomes as an adult.

Chronic unpredictable stress

Laura, John, Georgia, Kat, Michele, and Ellie tell six unique stories of childhood adversity. And yet their brains reacted to these different levels of trauma in a similar biological way. The developing brain reacts to different types and degrees of trauma so similarly because all the categories of Adverse Childhood Experience stressors have a very simple common denominator: they are all unpredictable. The child can’t predict exactly when, why, or from where the next emotional or physical hit is coming.

Researchers refer to stress that happens in unpredictable ways and at unpredictable times as “chronic unpredictable stress,” and they have been studying its effects on animal development for decades, long before Felitti and Anda’s investigation into ACEs first began.

In classic studies, investigators expose animals to different types of stressors for several weeks, to see how those stressful stimuli affect their behavior. In one experiment, McCarthy and her postdocs exposed male and female rats to three weeks of chronic unpredictable mild stress. Every day, rats were exposed to a few low grade stressors: their cage was rotated; they were given a five minute swim, their bedding was dampened; they went for a day without food; they were physically restrained for thirty minutes; or they were exposed to thirty minutes of strobe lights.

At the end of the three weeks, McCarthy’s team examined the rats to evaluate brain differences. In the group exposed to chronic unpredictable mild stress, she and her team found significant changes in the receptors in the brain’s hippocampus, an area of the brain associated with emotion, which would normally help modulate stress hormone production and put the brakes on feelings of stress and anxiety after a stressor has passed.

The rats who’d been exposed to chronic unpredictable stress weren’t able to turn off the stress response, but the control group that experienced no stress showed no brain changes.

However, when stress is completely predictable, even if it is more traumatic, such as giving a rat a regularly scheduled foot shock accompanied by a sharp, loud sound, the stress does not create these exact same brain changes. “Rats exposed to a much more traumatic stressor get used to it if it happens at the same time and in the same way every day,” says McCarthy. “They manage. They know it’s coming, then it’s over.” Moreover, she says, “They don’t show signs of these same brain changes, or inflammation, or illness.”

On the other hand, she adds, “if you introduce more moderate but unpredictable stressful experiences at a different time each day, with different levels of intensity, adding in different noises, such as loud clapping at unpredictable intervals, those rats show significant changes to the brain. And they get physically sick; they get ulcers.”

This is why researchers believe that it is the unpredictability of stress that is particularly damaging.

On a walking tour of her lab, McCarthy points out the metal stand on which rodents’ cages can be gently shaken for a short time. “Even the most mild unpredictable stressors, something as simple as gently shaking the cage, playing rock music, putting a new object in the cage that they aren’t used to, all these cause very specific changes in the brain when we do them without warning.”

The bottom line, McCarthy says, is that the brain can “tolerate severely stressful events if they are predictable, but you cannot tolerate even mild stressful events if they are very unpredictable.”

Yet even though researchers have known for years about the effects of chronic unpredictable stress on the adult brain, only recently have they examined what happens to the brains of children exposed to chronic unpredictable stressors.

The Difficulty of Not Knowing

Mary, now in her midfifties, grew up as the oldest of four kids in a small town in Oregon. Life with her artist parents was a lot like living with unpredictable cage rattling, shaking, and odd, loud noises. Mary’s dad had his own damaged childhood. He’d grown up never knowing who his own dad was, and his mom died when he was seven. His maternal grandparents adopted his brother, but not him because his parents hadn’t married, and he was seen as damaged goods. (His ACE Score was very high.)

Years later, when he was a father of four, he drank heavily, partied, and played cards. “I remember hearing my dad and friends, up all night drinking and swearing really loud in the living room outside my bedroom, even on school nights. I didn’t feel safe.” Mary has large, sympathetic eyes and shoulder length brown hair that she neatly tucks behind her ears with long, graceful fingers. “I can remember my mother yelling at him, ‘You need to make them leave. Your children can’t sleep!’ And he’d yell back, ‘I can’t make them leave, these are my friends!’ My sleep, and sense of being safe, weren’t important to him.”

Mary’s mother was managing her own anxiety that came with having four children and being stuck in a marriage with an alcoholic, so she, too, was emotionally absent. “I got bullied a lot in grade school,” Mary tells me. “I was scrawny and short and kids would terrorize me.” Her mom was preoccupied with an affair her dad was having and didn’t listen to Mary’s problems; eventually she took Mary and her younger siblings to the East Coast to live with her own mother.

“A part of me quite enjoyed that time away from all the partying and the tension in their marriage, the fighting,” says Mary.

After her parents got back together, at first Mary was happy and hopeful. But her dad was still drinking heavily. He’d get so drunk that “my mom would literally kick him out of bed and he’d come sleep with me.” Nothing happened, Mary says, “nothing like that.” But still, it was disconcerting to sometimes wake in the night at age ten to find her dad in bed with her, sleeping off another drunken stupor.

At school things hadn’t improved much. “We were still wearing dresses back then,” says Mary. “All the boys called me ‘Gladiator’ because when they’d tease me I’d go at them, I’d fight back.” That made the bullying worse. “They’d chase me and hold me down on the ground and forcibly pull off my underwear.”

Mary didn’t even think of telling her father about the bullying. “When he was drunk, he would spank us really hard. Once when my sister was in second grade, he pulled down her pants and spanked her in front of all his drunken friends.”

Mary’s sensors were always on high alert, getting ready for the next unpredictable, incoming emotional bomb. Her stress axis was constantly kicking into high gear; her immune system, in overdrive. By then, Mary had started to show signs of an autoimmune disorder called vitiligo, in which the body’s immune cells attack the pigmentation in the skin. Areas of her skin turned white, as if the skin had been bleached or burned in the past and new skin was trying to form over it.

“Our skin is our first line of defense against the world, the thing that’s supposed to keep us safe, secure our physical boundaries,” Mary says. “And yet my parents hadn’t set any boundaries to keep me or my siblings safe.” It was as if her skin were pleading for her parents to set those boundaries, the kind of safe zone parents are supposed to set for kids.

Even worse than the skin disorder, however, “were my constant stomachaches,” she recalls. “I’d have chronic constipation and cramping, and then terrible diarrhea, all the symptoms of irritable bowel, though we didn’t know what to call it back then.” Sometimes, she’d find herself getting physically jittery and nervous “seemingly for no reason. I’d just be standing there and I’d get these rushes of fear, ripping and prickling through my body.”

Over time, her father’s boundaryless behavior grew more bizarre. When Mary was fourteen, he cut out hundreds of naked bodies from a stack of old Playboys, took off their heads, and pasted their disembodied boobs, legs, butts, and crotches on the walls of the kitchen. Andrea, one of Mary’s few friends, told her parents about the “wallpaper.” “After that, Andrea wasn’t allowed at my house,” Mary says. “I started to realize that other kids weren’t comfortable around me because of my dad.”

When she was fifteen, her parents moved to a house in the country. “I think they were trying to salvage their marriage.” One crisp winter night, when Mary was coming out of the garage, one of her dad’s drunken friends was standing by his car in the driveway. “As I walked by to go in the house he stared at me hard and said, ‘You are so beautiful!’ Then he threw me into the backseat of his car and got on top of me. He stuck his tongue down my throat and was groping me.”

Mary forced him off and ran in to tell her dad, who was also drunk. “He told me to stop making such a big deal about it.”

And yet, at other times, Mary’s dad did show concern for her. Once, when Mary was in a car accident, “he got in the ambulance with me and cried the whole way to the hospital.” He was completely unpredictable.

By the time she was eighteen, Mary had developed “unwavering depression,” which would progress over the next thirty years, getting worse after she married and had her four children. She developed a severe lower back problem that worsened every year. And her autoimmune vitiligo started to cover her arms and neck.

“I fell into a postpartum depression after each birth, and after my fourth son, I was suicidal. My physical and emotional pain had snowballed. If I was driving without any of my kids in the car, I’d find myself thinking, ‘How can I crash this car into a tree in such a way that no one will know it’s suicide, and so that I’m not just impaired and a burden to my family afterward?”

And that was when, says Mary, “I realized something potent was haunting me; something was terribly wrong with how unsafe I felt in the world. I had these beautiful sons and I just didn’t feel okay inside in any way, shape, or form.”

To the developing brain, knowing what’s coming next matters most. This makes sense if you think back to how the stress response works optimally. You meet a bear in the woods and your body floods with adrenaline and cortisol so that you can decide quickly: do you run away or try to frighten away the bear? After you deal with the crisis, you recover, your stress hormones abate, and you go home with a great story.

McCarthy presents another situation. “What if that bear is circling the house and you can’t get away from it and you never know if it’s going to strike, or when, or what it will do next? There it is, threatening you every single day. You can’t fight or flee.” Then, she says, “Your emergency response system is set into overdrive over and over again. Your anxiety sensors are always going full blast.”

Even subtle, common forms of childhood stress, e.g., a hypercritical, narcissistic, or manic depressive parent can cause just as much damage as a parent who deals out angry, physical beatings or just disappears.

And in that sense, Kat’s story and Mary’s story are very similar to Laura’s, John’s, Georgia’s, Michele’s, and Ellie’s. All of them, even in adult life, felt that the bear was still out there, somewhere, circling in the woods, stalking, and might strike again any day, anytime.

According to Vincent Felitti, the one area in which a “yes” answer on the Adverse Childhood Experiences questionnaire has been correlated to a slightly higher level of adult negative health outcomes is in response to ACE question number 1, which addresses the issue of “chronic humiliation.” Would adults in the home often swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you?

This strong correlation between adverse health problems and unpredictable, chronic humiliation by a parent suggests that it is not knowing if you are safe from the “bear” that matters most.

There are a lot of bears out there. Depression, bipolar disease, alcohol, and other addictions are remarkably prevalent adult afflictions. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, over 18 percent of adults, or nearly forty four million Americans, suffer from a diagnosable mental health disorder in any given year. Twenty three million adult Americans suffer from an alcohol or drug addiction. Indeed, according to the original ACE Study, one in four people with Adverse Childhood Experiences had a parent who was addicted to alcohol.

Often, alcoholism and depression go hand in hand, addiction can be an unconscious effort to self medicate a mood disorder. But even when they are not working in tandem, mood disorders and alcoholism share one thing: both make adults behave in emotionally undependable ways. The parent who hugs you one day when picking you up from school might humiliate you in front of your friends the next afternoon. The sense of not knowing what’s coming next never goes away.

The Sadness Seed

Adversity in childhood can be the precursor to deep depression and anxiety later in life. A growing body of research shows that there is a close correlation between Adverse Childhood Experiences and emotional health disorders in adulthood. In Felitti and Anda’s Adverse Childhood Experiences Study, 18 percent of individuals with an ACE Score of 1 had suffered from clinical depression, and the likelihood rose sharply with each ACE Score. Thirty percent of those with an ACE Score of 3 and nearly 50 percent of those with an ACE Score of 4 or more had suffered from chronic depression.

Twelve and a half percent of respondents to the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study cite having an ACE Score of 4 or more.

For women, the correlation is even more disturbing. While 19 percent of men with an ACE Score of 1 suffered from clinical depression, 24 percent of women with that score did. Likewise, while 24 percent of men with a score of 2 developed adult clinical depression, 35 percent of women did. Thirty percent of men with a score of 3 developed clinical depression, compared to 42 percent of women who had three categories of Adverse Childhood Experiences. And 35 percent of men, versus nearly 60 percent of women, with a score of 4 or more suffered from chronic depression.

The strongest precursor of adult depression turned out to be Adverse Childhood Experiences that fell into the category of “childhood emotional abuse.”

Whether you are male or female, the loss of a parent in childhood triples your chances of depression in adulthood. Being raised by a mother who suffers from depression puts you at a higher risk of living with chronic pain as an adult. Children who experienced severe trauma before the age of sixteen are three times more likely to develop schizophrenia later in life.

Most disturbing are the statistics on suicide: while only 1 percent of those with an ACE Score of 0 have ever attempted suicide, almost one in five individuals with an ACE Score of 4 or more has tried to end his or her life. Indeed, a person with an ACE Score of 4 or more is, statistically, 1,220 percent more likely to attempt suicide than someone with an ACE Score of 0.

It certainly makes sense that childhood emotional trauma will spill out in our adulthood. Psychology and psychotherapy help us understand the link between our childhood wounds and adult emotional problems, and making this connection can help free us from the pain of our past.

But research tells us that often, childhood adversity leads to more deep seated changes within the brain, and that depression and mood dysregulation are also set in motion on a cellular and neurobiological level.

So what is causing neurobiological changes inside the brain itself?

How Early Adversity Changes the Shape and Size of the Brain

When a young child faces emotional adversity or stressors, cells in the brain release a hormone that actually shrinks the size of the brain’s developing hippocampus, altering his or her ability to process emotion and manage stress. Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) studies show that the higher an individual’s childhood trauma score, the smaller the cerebral gray matter, or brain volume, is in key processing areas of the brain, including the prefrontal cortex, an area related to decision making and self regulatory skills; the amygdala, or fear processing center of the brain; and the sensory association cortices and cerebellum, both of which affect how we process and regulate emotions and moods.

MRIs also show that kids raised in orphanages have much smaller brains than those of others. That smaller brain volume may be due to a reduction in the brain’s gray matter which is made up of brain cells, or neurons, as well as white matter, which includes nerves (with coated, or myelinated, axons) that allow for the fast transmission of messages in the brain. Other studies show that this smaller sized amygdala in adults who’ve experienced childhood maltreatment shows marked “hyperactivity.” Frontal regions of the brain display “atypical activation” throughout daily life making individuals hyperreactive to even very small stressors.

The lnflamed Brain

“Early stress impacts the developing brain in a way that, until very recently, we just didn’t think was possible,” McCarthy says. “It turns out that chronic, early unpredictable stress can trigger a process of low grade inflammation within the brain itself.”

That is pretty revolutionary news. Until recently, most scientists thought that inflammation could not be generated by the brain. “We thought that the brain was what we call ‘immune-privileged,’ ” explains McCarthy. “Inflammation in the brain occurred only when there was an external event, such as a brain injury or head trauma, or an infection such as meningitis.”

But, “That has turned out not to be the case. When we are chronically stressed, the brain responds by creating a state of neuro inflammation. And that neuro inflammation can be present at levels that, until very recently, we could not even detect.”

This type of inflammation develops due to a type of non neuronal brain cell known as microglia. Our microglial cells make up about one tenth of our brain cells. For years, researchers thought that these microglia cells were “just there to get rid of stuff we didn’t need,” explains McCarthy. “They were taking out the trash, so to speak?

Microglia play an integral role in pruning our brain’s neurons and in brain development. They are crucial to the normal processing of the brain all the time, continuously scanning their environment, determining, Are we good here? Or not so good? Are we safe? Or not safe?

Shake the cage. Flash the lights. The microglia in the brain take note, fast. They don’t like chronic, unpredictable stress. They don’t like it at all.

“Microglia go off kilter in the face of chronic unpredictable stress,” says McCarthy. “They get really worked up, they crank out neurochemicals that lead to neuro inflammation. And this below-the-radar state of chronic neuro inflammation can lead to changes that reset the tone of the brain for life.”

“It is very possible that when microglia go off kilter, they are actually pruning away neurons,” McCarthy says. That is, they are killing off brain cells that we need.

In a healthy brain, microglia control the number of neurons that the cerebral cortex needs, but unhappy microglia can excessively prune away cells in areas that would normally play a key role in basic executive functions, like reasoning and impulse control. They are essential in a healthy brain, but in the face of chronic unpredictable stress, they can start eating away at the brain’s synapses.

“In some cases, microglia are engulfing and destroying dying neurons, and they are taking out the trash, just as we always thought,” says McCarthy. “But in other cases, microglia are destroying healthy neurons and in that case, it’s more like murder.” This excessive pruning can lead to what McCarthy refers to as a “reset tone” in the brain. You might think of that stressed brain as a muscle that’s lost its tone and is atrophying. And that loss of gray and white matter can trigger depression, anxiety disorders, and even more extreme psychopathology such as schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s disease.

Microglia may also prune a special group of neurons in the hippocampus that are capable of regenerating. “We used to think that you could never make new neurons but one of the most revolutionary new findings in the last decade is the discovery that there are new neurons being born in the hippocampus all the time,” says McCarthy. The growth of new neurons is very important to adult mental health. “If something interferes with their growth, depression can set in.” Indeed research suggests, says McCarthy, that “microglia, when they are overly exuberant, may kill these new neurons as soon as they are born.”

Scientists have introduced healthy microglia back into the mouse brain. The results have been stunning: once mice brains are repopulated with microglia, all signs of depression completely disappear.

So much depends on the microglia in our brain being happy, unrattled. So much depends on our microglia not pruning away too many neurons.

We might hypothesize that “angry, worked-up microglia could impair the growth of healthy new neurons in the brain’s hippocampus,“ says McCarthy. “When healthy neurons in the hippocampus die, our emotional well-being would be impaired over the long term.”

Facing situation after situation of sudden and unpredictable stress in childhood can trigger microglia to prune away important neurons and initiate a state of neuroinflammation that resets the tone of the brain, creating the conditions for long lasting anxiety and depression.

A Perfect Storm: Childhood Stress, Brain Pruning, and Adolescence

When children come into adolescence, they naturally undergo a period of developmental pruning of neurons. When we are very young, we have an overproduction of neurons and synaptic connections. Some of them die off naturally to allow us to “turn down the noise in the brain,” says McCarthy, and to increase our mastery in skills that interest us. The brain prepares for becoming more specialized at the things we’re good at and interested in, while we lose what we don’t need.

But if, due to childhood stress, lots of neurons and synapses have already been pruned away, then when the natural pruning that occurs during adolescence begins to take place, and the brain starts to naturally prune neurons it doesn’t need so that a teenager can focus on building particular skills, baseball, singing, poetry, then suddenly, there may be too much pruning going on.

Dan Siegel, MD, child neuropsychiatrist and clinical professor at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), is the pioneer of a growing field known as “interpersonal biology,” which integrates the fields of neuroscience and psychology. According to Siegel, “The stress of Adverse Childhood Experiences causes toxicity to the neurons and neural pathways that integrate different areas of the brain.” When adolescent pruning occurs in the integrated circuitry between the hippocampus, which is important in storing memories; the corpus callosum, which links the left and right hemispheres of the brain; and the prefrontal cortex, these brain changes, says Siegel, have a profound effect on our decision making abilities, self-regulatory processes, attention, emotional regulation, thoughts, and behavior.

When these integrated circuits are affected by adversity, or genetic vulnerability, or both, during preadolescence, says Siegel, and then puberty hits, “adolescent pruning pares down the existing but insufficient number of integrated fibers, which makes a child vulnerable to mood dysregulation. It is when this brain integration is impaired that a dysfunction in mood regulation may emerge.”

Imagine, hypothetically speaking, that all kids start with 4,000 neurons (that’s a made-up number, for illustration purposes). Now, let’s say that we have two five year old boys, Sam and Joe. Sam faces early adversity and Joe doesn’t. As Sam meets up with chronic unpredictable stress in his childhood, his neurons are slowly pruned away. By the time Sam is twelve, after a lot of stress-related neuronal pruning, he has 1,800 neurons left. He is still okay, functioning well; 1,800 neurons are enough (using our hypothetical numbers) to get by on, since kids start out with so many more than they need in the first place.

But then Sam and Joe both go through the adolescent period of neuronal pruning. Let’s say that Sam and Joe, like all kids, each lose a hypothetical 1,000 more neurons during adolescence. Sam, who grew up with early chronic unpredictable stress, begins to emerge with a notably different brain from Joe.

Suddenly, the difference between Sam’s brain and Joe’s trauma free brain becomes extreme. Joe, who’s grown up fairly adversity free, still has his 3,000 neurons, plenty to go forward and live a healthy and happy life.

Meanwhile, Sam is left with only 800 neurons.

And that makes all the difference. It is not enough for the brain to function in a healthy manner.

For kids who have already had pruning due to early stress, Siegel explains, “when average adolescent pruning occurs, what remains may be insufficient for mood to be kept in balance. If stressors are high, this pruning process may be even more intense, and more of the at risk circuits may be diminished in number and effectiveness.”

The child who faced Adverse Childhood Experiences will be more likely to develop depression, bipolar disorder, eating disorders, anxiety disorders, or poor executive function and decision making, many of which can lead to substance abuse. This may be why, statistically, so many young people first show signs of depression or bipolar disorders in high school, and in college, even kids who just a year or two earlier seemed absolutely fine.

Stephen’s parents, both investment bankers, were hardly around when he was growing up in New York City. Stephen ate dinner at night with his older sister and their nanny. When his parents came home around nine o’clock, a time when most kids were getting tucked into bed and kissed good night, they’d all sit down together at the kitchen table, and the nanny would give her daily report. She was an older woman who loved to “give a laundry list of what we’d done wrong.” Stephen “lived in fear of that moment. Especially for my sister.”

His sister, who was five years older, was “already expected to be a genius like our parents, by the time she was in fourth grade. If she brought home an eighty-five on a math test, my parents would drill her on math problems until eleven o’clock.” Then, they’d tell their friends at the next weekend party at our country house how “Alexis is already doing algebra!”

Stephen, as the baby, often got off lightly when he was young, and recalls feeling “that my parents loved me and wanted everything for me. But they were also terrifying.”

As Stephen got older, his parents stopped “treating me like the cute baby.” He did well academically and his standardized test scores were sometimes off the charts. “My parents decided that I must be the genius they’d been waiting for. I got their laser focus.”

But he soon started to feel that “I wasn’t as smart as my parents hoped I’d be.” When he was nine, Stephen started having acute asthma attacks. He was also “perpetually forgetful. I’d lose everything. I’d forget to bring my sweater or my Spanish book home. I’d leave my clarinet in the band room. It made my parents furious. They’d tell me, ‘Get it together! We don’t have time for your nonsense, Stephen!’ ”

Once, while staying at a plush lakeside resort, he walked into water with his flip-flops on to look for tadpoles. As he walked out, one flip-flop got stuck in the mud. “I tried to find it. I was digging in the muck. My dad just lost it. He stood on the edge of the lake yelling, ‘You lost your flip-flop? Really, Stephen? You can’t take a walk without losing your shoes? You think we’re going to just buy you another pair? We’re not buying you anything!’ ” On the ride home, Stephen had a full-blown asthma attack.

Stephen was also a “nonjock.” He liked to read more than he liked to play ball. “My dad started calling me ‘pretty boy.’ I’d come in the door from being at a concert with my friends and he’d say, ‘Hey, pretty boy, good time?’ He was pissed that I hadn’t spent the weekend on an athletic field the way he had when he was seventeen, the way his colleagues’ and friends’ kids were.”

As many adult children recall, “It wasn’t all bad. My dad taught me how to fish, how to sail, and how to analyze the financial pages of the newspaper. My mom left work to come to every single concert I was in when I played in the state youth orchestra. Sometimes when my dad was out of town, she’d let my sister and me snuggle in her bed and we’d watch movies and eat sandwiches from the deli downstairs. She’d tell me, ‘Your dad loves you so much, he’s just very stressed with work, it’s not about you, Stevie.’ She was not affectionate. But she tried.”

In high school Stephen, despite high test scores, couldn’t seem to manage his workload and get papers in on time, and was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, high stakes performance anxiety, and depression. “I just stopped wanting to go out with my friends, or do anything. I wanted the world to just let me be.” Then he developed a condition known as alopecia areata, in which the immune system attacks the hair follicles and segments of hair fall out, leaving bald patches. “My hair started falling out in huge chunks.’ ”

Stephen went on to grad school, getting his PhD in psychology. Today, Stephen is forty-two, a high school counselor. He shaves his head so that he doesn’t have to deal with the recurring bald spots from alopecia. “For me, knowing what not to do with the kids I teach, I like to think that’s the gift my parents gave me. I can see when a kid is showing signs of anxiety or depression. I see how at this age, some kids who have been struggling to hold it together for so long just can’t anymore. Things start to fall apart, and they just can’t understand what’s happening to them. I was that kid.”

The research on neuro inflammation, pruning, and the brain helps to explain why adverse experiences in childhood are so highly correlated to depression and anxiety disorders in adulthood. It also sheds light on why, according to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), depression affects eighteen million Americans. The World Health Organization recently cited depression as “the leading cause of disability worldwide,” responsible for more years of disability than cancer, HIV/AIDS, and cardiovascular and respiratory diseases combined.

This also may explain other brain based health disorders. For instance, a recent study of brain scans of people suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome, or CFS, myalgic encephalomyelitis, or ME, show higher levels of inflammation in specific parts of the brain, including the hippocampus and amygdala. The greater a patient’s level of self-reported CFS symptoms, the greater the degree of visible brain inflammation.

This may also help to account for why it is that those who faced Adverse Childhood Experiences are six times more likely to develop chronic fatigue in the first place.

The Walking Wounded

It’s impossible to estimate how many adults who experienced Adverse Childhood Experiences are getting by, day by day, unwittingly navigating a state of low grade neuro inflammation, functioning despite their “reset tone” in the brain, dealing with general low mood, depression, and anxiety.

This lowered “set point of well-being,” this generalized emotional misery, predicts with startling accuracy how likely we are to find ourselves as adults navigating mood fluctuations, anxiety, sadness, fear-reacting to life without resilience, rather than really living life fully.

It’s kind of the proverbial cat chasing its tail. Epigenetic changes in life cause inflammatory chemicals to increase. Chronic unpredictable stress sends microglia off kilter. Microglia murder neurons. Neurons die, synapses are less able to connect. Microglia proliferate and create a state of neuro inflammation. Essential gray matter areas of the brain lose volume and tone. White matter, the myelin in the brain that allows for synapses to connect between neurons is lost. This lack of brain tone impairs thought processes, making negative thoughts, fears, reactivity, and worries more likely over time. An Uberalert, fearful brain leads to increased negative reactions and thoughts, creating more inflammatory hormones and chemicals that lead to more microglial dysfunction and pruning and chronic inflammation in the brain. The cycle continues.

As McCarthy puts it, “Neuro inflammation becomes a runaway process.”

This, she says, “contributes to a chronic overreactivity. Things that most people would get over quickly would send someone with a low level of inflammation into a tailspin. They may not be able to sort out rational thought about what’s happening around them, is what’s happening right now good, or is it bad? They may be far more prone to see everything as bad.”

This is the new psychosocial theory of everything: our early emotional stories determine the body and brain’s operating system and how well they will be able to guard our optimal physical and emotional health all of our adult lives.

We take whatever reactive brain and increased sensitivity to stress we develop in childhood with us wherever we go, at any age. We’re likely to feel bad mentally and physically a lot of the time. That state of neuro inflammation means we are more likely to walk around in an irritable mood, be easily ticked off and annoyed.

Our relationships will suffer. We see hurt where none is intended. We’ll likely find the world more aggravating than gratifying. Our chances for a healthy, stable, and satisfying life narrow, and continue to narrow as the years go by. But we can take action to remove the early “fingerprints” that childhood adversity leaves on our neurobiology so that imprint does not stay with us.

The Really Good News

As scientists have learned more about how childhood adversity becomes biologically embedded, they have also learned how we can intervene in this process to reverse the damage of early stress, no matter whether we grew up in a happy, functional family or an often unhappy, dysfunctional one. And no matter what happened to us when we were young.

“The beauty of epigenetics is that it’s reversible, and the beauty of the brain is that it’s plastic,” says McCarthy:

“There are many ways that we can immuno-rehabilitate the brain to overcome early negative epigenetic changes so that we can respond normally to both pleasure and pain. The brain can restore itself.”

We can heal those early scars to get back to who it is we really are, who we might have been had we not faced so much adversity in the first place. But to do that, we first have to understand why we may be more prone to epigenetic changes than others in the first place, even though we are no less capable of epigenetic reversal and change.


from

Childhood Disrupted. How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal

by Donna Jackson Nakazawa

get it at Amazon.com

The future of AI lies in replicating our own neural networks – Ben Medlock.

Long before we were conscious, thinking beings, our cells were reading data from the environment and working together to mould us into robust, self-sustaining agents.

We think with our whole body, not just with the brain.

In ways that we’re only just beginning to understand, our body and brain, from the cellular level upwards, have already built a model of the world that we can apply almost instantly to a wide array of challenges. But for an AI algorithm, the process begins from scratch each time.

It’s tempting to think of the mind as a layer that sits on top of more primitive cognitive structures. We experience ourselves as conscious beings, after all, in a way that feels different to the rhythm of our heartbeat or the rumblings of our stomach. If the operations of the brain can be separated out and stratified, then perhaps we can construct something akin to just the top layer, and achieve humanlike artificial intelligence, AI, while bypassing the messy flesh that characterizes organic life.

I understand the appeal of this view because I co-founded SwiftKey, a predictive-language software company that was bought by Microsoft. Our goal is to emulate the remarkable processes by which human beings can understand and manipulate language. We’ve made some decent progress: I was pretty proud of the elegant new communication system we built for the physicist Stephen Hawking between 2012 and 2014. But despite encouraging results, most of the time I’m reminded that we’re nowhere near achieving human-like AI. Why? Because the layered model of cognition is wrong. Most AI researchers are currently missing a central piece of the puzzle: embodiment.

Things took a wrong turn at the beginning of modern AI, back in the 1950s. Computer scientists decided to try to imitate conscious reasoning by building logical systems based on symbols. The method involves associating real-world entities with digital codes to create virtual models of the environment, which could then be projected back onto the world itself. For instance, using symbolic logic, you could instruct a machine to ‘learn’ that a cat is an animal by encoding a specific piece of knowledge using a mathematical formula such as ‘cat > is > animal’. Such formulae can be rolled up into more complex statements that allow the system to manipulate and test propositions such as whether your average cat is as big as a horse, or likely to chase a mouse.

This method found some early success in simple contrived environments: in ‘SHRDLU’, a virtual world created by the computer scientist Terry Winograd at MIT between 1968-1970, users could talk to the computer in order to move around simple block shapes such as cones and balls. But symbolic logic proved hopelessly inadequate when faced with real world problems, where fine tuned symbols broke down in the face of ambiguous definitions and myriad shades of interpretation.

In later decades, as computing power grew, researchers switched to using statistics to extract patterns from massive quantities of data. These methods are often referred to as ‘machine learning’. Rather than trying to encode high-level knowledge and logical reasoning, machine learning employs a bottom-up approach in which algorithms discern relationships by repeating tasks, such as classifying the visual objects in images or transcribing recorded speech into text. Such a system might learn to identify images of cats, for example, by looking at millions of cat photos, or to make a connection between cats and mice based on the way they are referred to throughout large bodies of text.

Machine learning has produced many tremendous practical applications in recent years. We’ve built systems that surpass us at speech recognition, image processing and lip reading; that can beat us at chess, Jeopardy! and Go; and that are learning to create visual art, compose pop music and write their own software programs. To a degree, these selfteaching algorithms mimic what we know about the subconscious processes of organic brains.

Machine-learning algorithms start with simple ‘features’ (individual letters or pixels, for instance) and combine them into more complex ‘categories’, taking into account the inherent uncertainty and ambiguity in real-world data. This is somewhat analogous to the visual cortex, which receives electrical signals from the eye and interprets them as identifiable patterns and objects.

But algorithms are a long way from being able to think like us. The biggest distinction lies in our evolved biology, and how that biology processes information. Humans are made up of trillions of eukaryotic cells, which first appeared in the fossil record around 2.5 billion years ago. A human cell is a remarkable piece of networked machinery that has about the same number of components as a modern jumbo jet all of which arose out of a longstanding, embedded encounter with the natural world. In Basin and Range (1981), the writer John McPhee observed that, if you stand with your arms outstretched to represent the whole history of the Earth, complex organisms began evolving only at the far wrist, while ‘in a single stroke with a medium-grade nail file you could eradicate human history’.

The traditional view of evolution suggests that our cellular complexity evolved from early eukaryotes via random genetic mutation and selection. But in 2005 the biologist James Shapiro at the University of Chicago outlined a radical new narrative. He argued that eukaryotic cells work ‘intelligently’ to adapt a host organism to its environment by manipulating their own DNA in response to environmental stimuli. Recent microbiological findings lend weight to this idea. For example, mammals’ immune systems have the tendency to duplicate sequences of DNA in order to generate effective antibodies to attack disease, and we now know that at least 43% of the human genome is made up of DNA that can be moved from one location to another, through a process of natural ‘genetic engineering’.

Now, it’s a bit of a leap to go from smart, self-organizing cells to the brainy sort of intelligence that concerns us here. But the point is that long before we were conscious, thinking beings, our cells were reading data from the environment and working together to mould us into robust, self-sustaining agents. What we take as intelligence, then, is not simply about using symbols to represent the world as it objectively is. Rather, we only have the world as it is revealed to us, which is rooted in our evolved, embodied needs as an organism. Nature ‘has built the apparatus of rationality not just on top of the apparatus of biological regulation, but also from it and with it’, wrote the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio in Descartes’ Error (1994), his seminal book on cognition. In other words, we think with our whole body, not just with the brain.

I suspect that this basic imperative of bodily survival in an uncertain world is the basis of the flexibility and power of human intelligence. But few AI researchers have really embraced the implications of these insights. The motivating drive of most AI algorithms is to infer patterns from vast sets of training data so it might require millions or even billions of individual cat photos to gain a high degree of accuracy in recognizing cats. By contrast, thanks to our needs as an organism, human beings carry with them extraordinarily rich models of the body in its broader environment. We draw on experiences and expectations to predict likely outcomes from a relatively small number of observed samples. So when a human thinks about a cat, she can probably picture the way it moves, hear the sound of purring, feel the impending scratch from an unsheathed claw. She has a rich store of sensory information at her disposal to understand the idea of a ‘cat’, and other related concepts that might help her interact with such a creature.

This means that when a human approaches a new problem, most of the hard work has already been done.

In ways that we’re only just beginning to understand, our body and brain, from the cellular level upwards, have already built a model of the world that we can apply almost instantly to a wide array of challenges. But for an AI algorithm, the process begins from scratch each time.

There is an active and important line of research, known as ‘inductive transfer’, focused on using prior machine-learned knowledge to inform new solutions. However, as things stand, it’s questionable whether this approach will be able to capture anything like the richness of our own bodily models.

On the same day that SwiftKey unveiled Hawking’s new communications system in 2014, he gave an interview to the BBC in which he warned that intelligent machines could end mankind. You can imagine which story ended up dominating the headlines.

I agree with Hawking that we should take the risks of rogue AI seriously. But I believe we’re still very far from needing to worry about anything approaching human intelligence and we have little hope of achieving this goal unless we think carefully about how to give algorithms some kind of long-term, embodied relationship with their environment.

American Islamophobia. Understanding the Roots and Rise of Fear – Khaled A. Beydoun.

I remember the four words that repeatedly scrolled across my mind after the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center. “Please don’t be Muslims, please don’t be Muslims,”

These four words reverberated through the mind of every Muslim American that day and every day after, forming a unifying prayer for Muslim Americans after every attack.

This system of inculcating fear and calculated bigotry was not entirely spawned in the wake of the 9/11 terror attacks but is a modern extension of a deeply embedded and centuries old form of American hate.

Now more than ever, Islamophobia is not limited to the irrational views or hateful slurs of individuals, but is an ideology that drives the president’s political worldview and motivates the laws, policies, and programs he seeks to push forward.

Crossroads and Intersections

“Nobody’s going to save you. No one’s going to cut you down, out the thorns thick around you. . . . There is no one who will feed the yearning. Face it. You will have to do, do it yourself.” Gloria AnzaldUa, Borderlands/La Frontera

“If you know who you are, nobody can tell you what you are or what you are not.” My momma, Fikrieh Beydoun

I took my seat in the back of the Uber car, plugged in my phone and reclined my head to recharge on the way to the hotel. The road ahead is going to be a long one, I thought as I sank into the backseat, settling in for a temporary respite from the oncoming storm. “As-salamu ‘alaikum,” the young driver greeted me in Spanish-inflected Arabic, abruptly ending my break.

“Wa ‘alaikum aI-salam,” I responded, thoroughly surprised that these familiar words came out of the mouth of my tattooed Latino Uber driver, Juan. Was he Muslim? I pondered, wondering whether his neat beard signified more than a recent fad or fashionable grooming.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Professor,” he said, and continued, “I’m very familiar with your writing and work, and I’m happy you’re here speaking at Cal State LA. I wish I could’ve been there to hear your talk.” Another sign that Juan might in fact be Muslim, given that my work centers on Muslim American identity and, increasingly, Islamophobia.

“Thank you so much,” I responded, taken aback by the fact that he knew who I was, and still contemplating whether he was a recent Muslim convert or born into a Muslim family. As a longtime resident of Los Angeles and a scholar familiar with Muslim American demographics, I was well aware that Latinx Muslims were the fastest growing segment of the Muslim American population. I had attended Friday prayers with sermons delivered en espanol in California and in Florida, where I lived and taught law for two years, and prayed alongside brothers from Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and Mexico as often as I did next to Muslims from Egypt, Syria, or Pakistan. However, I was still unsure about Juan’s religious identity, and to which destination he might steer this conversation.

I learned, en route from the East Los Angeles campus to my downtown hotel, that Juan was neither born to a Muslim family nor a convert. He was, rather, a man on the cusp of embracing Islam at a moment of unprecedented Islamophobia and rabid xenophobia, of imminent Muslim bans and Mexican walls.

“I have been studying Islam closely for some time now, and try to go to the mosque on some Fridays,” he shared. “I am considering making my shahada,” Juan continued, referencing the oath of induction whereby a new Muslim proclaims that “there is only one God, and Mohammed is his final messenger.” “Everybody assumes that I am a Muslim already,” he said, with a cautious laugh that revealed discomfort with his liminal status. Juan turned down the radio, and the voice of Compton native Kendrick Lamar rapping, “We gon’ be alright,” to engage in a more fluid conversation. And, it appeared, to seek a response from me about his spiritual direction.

“That’s wonderful,” I responded to Juan, who was likely no more than twenty-three or twenty-four years old, trying to balance my concern for the challenges his new religious affiliation would present with the answer that I thought he wanted to hear, and perhaps expected, from a Muslim American scholar and activist whose name and work he recognized.

As he drove, we discussed the political challenges posed by the Trump administration, and specifically, the policies that would directly or disproportionately target Muslim and Latinx communities. Indeed, Trump capitalized heavily on demonizing these vulnerable groups, as evidenced most clearly by the two proposals, the Muslim ban and the Mexico Wall, that became the rallying cries of his campaign. We also discussed how our kindred struggles with poverty complicated our pursuit of education, and how Trump’s economic vision exacerbated conditions for indigent Americans, including the 45 percent of Muslim Americans living below, at, or dangerously close to the federal poverty line. The city’s infamous, slow moving traffic enabled a fast paced conversation between my new friend and me and gave rise to an LA story seldom featured in newspapers or on television.

Juan’s responses focused on his everyday struggles living in LA and the stories of family and friends from his Pico Union neighborhood. He pointed out that the onslaughts on Muslims and Latinx communities were hardly separate and independent, or parallel and segregated. Rather, they were, and are, overlapping, intersecting, and, for him, very intimate.

“As an undocumented Latino from El Salvador living in Pico Union”, a heavily concentrated Latinx community on the margins of downtown Los Angeles, “I am most fearful about the pop-up checkpoints and the immigration raids,” he told me. These fears were more than imminent under the administration of President Obama, dubbed the “Deporter in Chief” by critics who opposed the accelerated mass deportations carried out during the final stages of his second term. But without question, Juan’s fears have become more visceral, more palpable during the Trump administration.

“I think about this every time I drive to school, work, or visit a family member,” Juan recounted, reminding me of the debilitating fear that comes over me after any terror attack. Yet his fear was far more immediate and frequent than mine, and loomed over him at every moment, including this one while he and I weaved through Los Angeles traffic, talking animatedly about politics, faith, and fear. He could be stopped at any time, whether alone or while whizzing customers through the city he knew better than the life lines on his palms.

I thought about the very imminent dangers these xenophobic policies and programs posed for Juan and people in similar situations in Los Angeles and throughout the country. I knew this city well and understood that the armed and irrational fear directed at nonwhite, non-Christian people was intense in LA, descending (among other places) on the city’s galaxy of dense and large Latinx neighborhoods. This armed xenophobia was aimed particularly at those communities gripped by poverty, where Spanish was spoken primarily, and was concentrated on people and families lacking legal documentation, indeed, the very intersection where Juan began and ended each day, and lived most of his hours in between.

Years before I rode with Juan, Los Angeles was my home away from my hometown of Detroit, the city where I began my career as a law professor, earned my law degree, and only two weeks into my first year of law school at UCLA, the setting from which I witnessed the 9/11 terror attacks. I remember the events of that day more clearly than I do any other day, largely because every terror attack that unfolds in the United States or abroad compels me to revisit the motions and emotions of that day.

For Muslim Americans, 9/11 is not just a day that will live in infamy or an unprecedented tragedy buried in the past; it is a stalking reminder that the safeguards of citizenship are tenuous and the prospect of suspicion and the presumption of guilt are immediate.

My phone kept ringing that morning, interrupting my attempt to sleep in after a long night of studying. As I turned to set the phone to vibrate, I noticed that my mother had called me six times in a span of fifteen minutes. My eyes widened. Was something wrong at home? Three hours behind in California, I called her back to make sure everything at home in Detroit was alright, still in the dark about the tragedy that would mark a crossroads for the country, my community, and indeed, my life.

“Turn on the TV,” she instructed, in her flat but authoritative Arabic that signaled that something serious was unfolding: “Go to your TV right now.” I had an eerie sense of what she was alluding to before I clicked the television on and turned to the news, but I could not have imagined the scale of the terror that unfolded that early Tuesday morning. My eyes were glued to the screen as I awoke fully to what it would mean for me, my family, and Muslim Americans at large if the perpetrators of the attacks looked like us or believed like us.

I recall the surreal images and events of that day as if they happened yesterday. And just as intimately, I remember the four words that repeatedly scrolled across my mind after the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center. “Please don’t be Muslims, please don’t be Muslims,” I quietly whispered to myself over and again, standing inside my small apartment, surrounded by bags and boxes not yet unpacked, a family portrait of my mother, sister, and brother hanging on an otherwise barren white wall. I was alone in the apartment, far from home, but knew in that very moment that the same fear that left me frozen and afraid gripped every Muslim in the country.

The four words I whispered to myself on 9/11 reverberated through the mind of every Muslim American that day and every day after, forming a unifying prayer for Muslim Americans after every attack.

Our fear, and the collective breath or brace for the hateful backlash that ensued, symbolize the existential tightrope that defines Muslim American identity today. It has become a definitive part of what it means to be Muslim American when an act of terror unfolds and the finger-pointing begins.

Indeed, this united state of fear converges with a competing fear stoked by the state to galvanize hatemongers and mobilize damaging policies targeting Islam and Muslims. That state stoked fear has a name: Islamophobia.

This system of inculcating fear and calculated bigotry was not entirely spawned in the wake of the 9/11 terror attacks, I have gradually learned, but is a modern extension of a deeply embedded and centuries old form of American hate.

Following 9/11 it was adorned with a new name, institutionalized within new government structures and strident new policies, and legitimized under the auspices of a “war on terror” that assigned the immediate presumption of terrorism to Islam and the immediate presumption of guilt to Muslim citizens and immigrants.

Thousands of miles away from home and loved ones, my world unraveled. Islamophobia and what would become a lifelong commitment to combating it were thrust to the fore. Although raised in Detroit, home to the most concentrated, celebrated, and scrutinized Muslim American population in the country, my activism, advocacy, and intellectual mission to investigate the roots of American Islamophobia and its proliferation after the 9/11 terror attacks were first marshaled on the other side of the country. For me, 9/11 was both a beginning and an end, putting to rest my romantic designs on an international human rights law career for the more immediate challenges unfolding at home.

I left for Los Angeles a wide-eyed twenty two year old in the late summer of 2001. I was the first in my family to attend university an graduate school, the first to pack his bags for another city, not knowing what direction his career or life would take. After three years and three wars, those in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the amorphous, fluidly expanding war on terror on the home front, I was fully resolved to take on the rising tide of Islamophobia ravaging the country and ripping through concentrated Muslim American communities like the one I called home. I learned about the law at a time when laws were being crafted to punish, persecute, and prosecute Muslim citizens and immigrants under the thinnest excuses, at an intersection when my law professors, including Kimberlé Crenshaw, Cheryl Harris, and Devon Carbado, were equipping me with the spirit and skill to fight Islamophobia in the middle grounds it rose from, and even more importantly, at the margins.

On February 22, 2017, more than a decade and a half after 9/11, I found myself back in Los Angeles. I was now a law professor and a scholar researching national security, Muslim identity, and constitutional law. I was to give a series of lectures on Islamophobia at several colleges and community centers in the LA area. My expertise was in high demand as a result of the 2016 presidential election and the intense lslamophobia that followed. I delivered the lectures roughly one month after newly elected President Donald Trump signed the executive order widely known as the “Muslim ban.”

Seven days into his presidency, Trump delivered on the promise he first made on the campaign trail on December 7, 2015, enacting a travel ban that restricted the entry of nationals from seven Muslim-majority nations: Libya, Iraq, Iran, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, and Yemen. To me, the Muslim ban was not merely a distant policy signed into law in a distant city; it was personal in a myriad of ways. First, I am a Muslim American, and second, I had close friends from several of the restricted nations and had visited several of those nations. Moreover, since the war on terror had been rolled out in 2001, all of the countries on the list had been either sites of full-scale American military aggression or strategic bombings.

“The bombs always precede the bans,” my mother said out loud as she watched the news one day, observing a truism that ties American foreign policy to immigration policy, particularly in relation to Muslim majority countries.

The Muslim ban was the first policy targeting Muslims enacted by the man I formally dubbed the “Islamophobia President.” It certainly would not be the last law, policy, or program implemented by the man who capitalized on Islamophobia as a “full-fledged campaign strategy” to become the forty-fifth president of the United States.

President Trump promised a more hardline domestic surveillance program, which he called Countering Islamic Violence; a registry to keep track of Muslim immigrants within the United States; legislation that would bludgeon the civic and advocacy programs of Muslim American organizations; and other measures that would threaten Muslim immigrants, citizens, and institutions. He was poised to integrate Islamophobia fully into the government he would preside over and to convert his bellicose rhetoric into state sanctioned policy.

If Trump demonstrated anything during his first week in office, it was an ability to follow through on the hateful promises most pundits had dismissed as “mere campaign rhetoric” months earlier. He kept his promises. Islamophobia was not merely an appeal for votes, but a resonant message that would drive policy and inform immigration and national security policing. His electioneering was not mere bluster, but in fact a covenant built on Islamophobia, an Islamophobia that motivated large swaths of Americans to vote for him. In exchange, he delivered on his explicit and “dog whistle” campaign messaging by generating real lslamophobic policies, programs, and action.

Trump, like many candidates before him and others who will follow, traded a grand narrative of nativism and hate for votes, which registered to great success at the ballot box.

Memories of the trials and wounds Muslim Americans endured in the wake of 9/11, which I witnessed firsthand and examined closely as a scholar, and those unfolding in this era of trumped-up, unhinged Islamophobia raced through my head as I walked to the Uber waiting for me outside the California State University, Los Angeles campus. Scores of mosques vandalized, immigrants scapegoated and surveilled, citizens falsely profiled and prosecuted, the private confines of Muslim American households violated in furtherance of baseless witch hunts, immigration restrictions and registries imposed, and innocent mothers and children killed.

Yesterday, and with this intensified third phase of the war on terror, again today. I set my bag down in the car, thinking about the turbulent road ahead. I thought about how the challenges ahead compared and contrasted with those that ravaged Muslim Americans following 9/11. More than fifteen years had passed, and the face of the country, the composition of the Muslim American population, and I myself had all undergone radical, transformative change. I had recently bid farewell to and buried my father, Ali, who in 1981 brought his three children and wife to the United States in search of all the things Donald Trump stood against, values his campaign slogan, “Make America Great Again,” sought to erode. Life after loss is never the same, and my season of mourning was punctuated by the fear and hysteria that followed Donald Trump all the way to the White House.

The world and the country were spinning faster and more furiously than ever before, it seemed. Locked in between the two, my life raced forward at a rate I had never experienced. The Black Lives Matter movement unveiled institutional racism that was as robust and violent as ever, as evidenced by the killing of Trayvon Martin, Rekia Boyd, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castille, Sandra Bland, and a rapidly growing list of unarmed black children, men, and women gunned down by police, all of them memorialized and uplifted as martyrs by youth and adult, black and non-black activists marching up and down city blocks or taking protests to the virtual sphere on Twitter, Facebook, and other social media platforms.

Black Lives Matter inspired mass actions across the country and an ongoing march of social media protests that spawned new generations of activists and trenchant thought leaders. I saw this unfold, in dynamic fashion, on city blocks, in neighborhoods, on college campuses, and on social media feeds. It left an indelible impression on my activism, writing, and worldview.

In the face of a political world seemingly spinning out of control, I decided to write this book. I hope to provide general readers, students, and activists an intimate and accessible introduction to Islamophobia, what it is, how it evolved, how we can combat it in Trump’s America, and most importantly, how to fight it beyond the current administration.

As a Muslim American law professor and civil rights activist, I hope to help readers view Islamophobia through a unique lens. I draw on a range of sources, from court cases, media headlines, and scholarship to my own experiences in walking the walk every day. Along the way, I make links and assertions that might be new to many readers: pointing out how Islamophobia has a long, notorious history in the United States, for example, and showing how the Black Lives Matter movement intersects with, and inspires, activism against Islamophobia. My aim is to offer a succinct, informed handbook for anyone interested in Islamophobia and its prolific growth at this definitive juncture in our country’s history.

I wrote this book at a time when American Islamophobia was intensifying at a horrific clip, giving immediate importance to my research and expertise and simultaneously endangering the people I love most. In addition to examining the roots and rise of American Islamophobia, this book also looks to humanize the individuals and communities impacted by it, so they can be seen beyond the frame of statistics. Many stories are interwoven, some are well known and others are not, to facilitate an understanding of Islamophobia that treats Muslim Americans not as distant subjects of study or analysis, but as everyday citizens. Citizens who, like members of other faith groups, are not only integral and contributing members of society, but are also part of a group that will define the future of the United States moving forward.

The United States is indeed at a crossroads. The rise of mass social protest movements fueled by calls for dignity, justice, and an end to structural racism have been met by an opposing front galvanized by demographic shifts toward a majority minority population and eight years of scapegoating and systematic obstruction of the first black president. Echoing through it all is the dread of an “end of white America,” a fear that politicians on the right readily stoked and fervently fed to the masses.

Much of this opposing front is fully wed to racism and xenophobia, and it backed a businessman who peddled a promise to “Make American Great Again”, a promise that was not just a campaign slogan, but was also a racial plea evoked at a time when whiteness was the formal touchstone of American citizenship and white supremacy was endorsed and enabled by law. Trump dangled before the electorate studies that project that people of color will outnumber whites by 2044, and that over half (50.2 percent) of the babies born in the United States today are minorities, and he inflamed the ever present fear that foreigners are stealing our jobs.

As a cure for these supposed ills, Trump’s campaign offered to a primed and ready audience a cocktail of nativism, scapegoating, and racism; his campaign met with resounding success and helped polarize the nation along the very lines that colored his stump speeches. Much of Trump’s fearmongering centered again on Islam and the suspicion, fear, and backlash directed at its more than eight million adherents living in Los Angeles, Detroit, and big and small American towns beyond and in between.

Islamophobia was intensifying throughout the country, relentlessly fueled on the presidential campaign trail, and after the inauguration of President Trump on January 20, 2017, it was unleashed from the highest office in the land.

Now more than ever, Islamophobia was not limited to the irrational views or hateful slurs of individuals, but was an ideology that drove the president’s political worldview and motivated the laws, policies, and programs he would seek to push forward.

This had also been the case during the Bush and Obama administrations, but the Trump moment marked a new phase of transparency in which explicit rhetorical Islamophobia aligned, in language and spirit, with the programs the new president was poised to implement.

I found myself wedged between the hate and its intended victims. Muslim Americans like myself were presumptive terrorists, not citizens; unassimilable aliens, not Americans; and the speeches I delivered on campuses and in community centers, to Muslims and non-Muslims, cautioned that the dangers Islamophobia posed yesterday were poised to become even more perilous today. The road ahead was daunting, I warned audiences after each lecture, hoping to furnish them with the awareness to be vigilant, and the pale consolation that today’s Islamophobia is not entirely new.

I was feeling alarmed for Juan, my Uber driver, even as I felt I should celebrate his being drawn toward Islam. I could not help but fear the distinct and convergent threats he would face if he embraced Islam. As an undocumented Latino Muslim in Los Angeles, Juan would be caught in the crosshairs of “terrorism” and “illegality.” Los Angeles was not only ground zero for a range of xenophobic policies targeting undocumented (and documented) Latinx communities, but also a pilot city where, in 2014, the Department of Homeland Security launched its counter radicalization program, Countering Violent Extremism, in partnership with the Los Angeles Police Department.

This new counterterror program, which effectively supplanted the federal surveillance model ushered in by the USA PATRIOT Act, deputized LAPD members to function as national security officers tasked with identifying, detaining, prosecuting, and even deporting “homegrown radicals.” Suspicion was disproportionately assigned to recent Muslim converts, particularly young men like Juan, keen on expressing their newfound Muslim identity by wearing a beard, attending Friday prayers, and demonstrating fluency in Arabic, the language tied to Islam, and in line with Islamophobia, terrorism.

I feared for Juan’s wellbeing, whether Muslim or not. I knew that the dangers he dodged every day would be far greater in number and more ominous in nature if he embraced Islam. The president, from inside the White House, was marshaling islamophobia and mobilizing xenophobia to inflict irreparable injury on Muslims, Latinx communities, and the growing population of Latinx Muslims that Juan would be part of if he walked into a mosque and declared that “there is only one God, and Mohammed is his final messenger.” He would be vulnerable to the covert counter-radicalization policing that was descending on Los Angeles mosques and Muslim student associations and simultaneously exposed to the ubiquitous threat of immigration checkpoints and deportation raids. He would also be a prime target for Victims of Immigration Crime Engagement, or VOICE, the new catchan-“illegal-alien” hotline installed by President Trump.

This seemed far too much for any one person to endure all at once, and the boundary Juan contemplated crossing by becoming a Muslim, during the height of American Islamophobia, might very well be one that he should drive far away from.

All of this rushed through my head as Juan drove me to my hotel, sharing with me his concerns and fears about the country’s current condition. I remained silent, gripped by the desire, if not the responsibility, to advise Juan to reconsider embracing Islam at this time. I tried to muster up the courage to tell him to postpone his conversion for a later time, when Islamophobic attitudes and policies were abating, when, and if, that time should come. I feared that if he did convert, the ever expanding and extending arms of the state would find him at once, brand him a radical, and toss him from the country, sending him far from the only home he has ever known, and the second home that summoned me back during a fateful moment in his life and mine.

*

Before my conversation with Juan, I’d been gripped by memories of the post 9/11 period. But for those moments in the car, I felt overwhelmed by the dangers that would encircle Juan if he took his shahada. Islam in America has never been simply a religion one chooses. From the gaze of the state and society, Islam was and still is an indelible marker of otherness, and in war-on-terror America, it is a political identity that instantly triggers the suspicion of acts of terror and subversion. The urge to advise Juan against converting reached its climax when the car came to an abrupt stop near Grand Avenue and 11th Street, in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, not far from Pico Union.

Juan stepped out to greet me on the right side of the car. “It was an honor to meet and speak to you, Brother Khaled,” he said, extending his hand to bid me farewell.

“Likewise Juan, I wish you the best,” I told him, extending my hand to meet his. I then turned away from the stranger who, after a thirty minute drive through grueling city traffic, had pushed me to grapple with my most pressing fears and had given me an intimate introduction to new fears that I could not turn away from.

I stopped, turned back toward Juan, and mustered up the strength to implore him, “But I ask you to think about whether now is the right time to become a Muslim,” attempting to cloak a desperate plea with the tone and language of evenhanded guidance. This was more difficult than any lecture or presentation I had given during the past several months, and the many more I would give later. “Your status already puts you in a difficult position, and falling victim to Islamophobia would put you in a more dangerous place,” I pled.

Voicing the words released a great weight off my shoulders. At the same time, they felt unnatural because they clashed with the spiritual aim of encouraging interest in Islam. The paradox mirrored the political confusion that gripped the nation. But the challenges and perils I lectured about in university classrooms, community centers, and mosques had to be extended to the street, and to the most vulnerable. My words were met with a look of utter surprise by Juan, who stood there and said nothing.

“Either way, you are my brother,” I closed, before we walked off in opposite directions. He thanked me, circled back to the driver’s seat, and turned right on 12th Street, in the direction of Pico Union, perhaps feeling disappointed in or spurned by the individual whose activism he admired.

I often wondered what decision Juan made, and whether he made his shahada. I also feared the worst, wondering whether he was still in the country. Was he profiled on the grounds of his Latino identity and detained because he was undocumented? Did he embrace Islam and fall victim to the counter-radicalization policing unfolding in Los Angeles? Or had he become a victim of the intersecting xenophobic backlash and Islamophobic violence authorized by Trump’s rhetoric and policies, inflicted by a bigot on or off campus?

My fears were stoked daily by bleak headlines and backward actions taken by the Trump administration, but I tried to remain optimistic. I hoped that Juan was still enrolled in classes, zigzagging his car through the maze of Los Angeles traffic to help his mother make rent, to pay his college tuition, and to drive toward his goal of becoming the first member of his family to earn a college degree. And most importantly, I prayed that he was safe and sound while working toward realizing this and other aspirations, academic, professional, and spiritual, in a country where informants and officers, bans and walls threaten to crush these very dreams and the people precariously holding onto them.

*

from

American Islamophobia. Understanding the Roots and Rise of Fear

by Khaled A. Beydoun

get it at Amazon.com

If You Like Being Alone You Have These 5 Amazing Traits.

“I have to be alone very often. I’d be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That’s how I refuel.” Audrey Hepburn

Let’s clear something up: being alone is not the same as being lonely. In fact, many people prefer being alone because that’s their way to recharge and refuel their energy.

Being a loner and enjoying solitude can be a great thing. And people who enjoy being alone are one of the most interesting and fun people to be with. They have many, many amazing qualities that make them extraordinary human beings.

Here are 5 of them:

1. They Are Open-Minded

Many would perceive someone who is reserved and quiet as being judgmental and unsocial. However, this is not true. People who are comfortable being alone are actually more open minded than one would think because they can discuss any topic due to their massive knowledge they have gained during their alone time by reading books watching documentaries, or just focusing on themselves and their thoughts.

2. They Are Exquisite Listeners

All introverts are amazing listeners. This is because when people spend time alone they process things in their heads instead of saying them out loud. So, in turn, their listening ratio is higher than their talking ratio.

They would listen to anyone as long as the conversation doesn’t involve small talk. They hate small talk more than anything.

3. They Are Emotionally Stable

No, they are not neurotic as many people would believe. The word neurotic typically encompasses feelings of anger, fear, worry, anxiety, loneliness, and depressive mood. However, people who enjoy solitude are not by default experiencing those feelings. In fact, they are more in touch with themselves and their emotions.

4. They Are Quickly Over-Stimulated

Studies have shown that people who enjoy spending time alone have a different brain structure than those who are overly social. Namely, people who are socially active have more dopamine reward action in their brain.

The introverts, on the other hand, prefer the acetylcholine, a brain chemical that is similar to dopamine and is connected with the reward system as well. The main difference between them is that this chemical gets activated when people are by themselves and turn inward.

This is why extroverts enjoy loud music and noise, they think it is a part of the fun while introverts prefer the quiet dinners and the comfort of their home.

5. They DO Like People

They have small circles of friends but this doesn’t mean that they don’t like people. They just despise small talk. That’s it.

Curious Mind Magazine

My family has a Nazi past. I see that ideology returning across Europe – Geraldine Schwarz.

In Germany and elsewhere, younger generations are becoming indifferent to the history of fascism. This is how the far right thrives, “Empathy is a weakness”.

It is no coincidence that these are countries where patterns of extremism we’d thought long gone have returned.

In Aistersheim, a Village in north-west Austria, a pale yellow castle towers over a frozen lake, as if out of a fairy tale. It looks like it might be awaiting royal guests. But the sign at the entrance reads: “Congress of the defenders of Europe.” I had signed up under a false name, because only the “well-wishing” press was allowed to attend this gathering in March of far-right activists, mostly from Germany and Austria.

Under the ribbed vaults of a large hall, I join an audience of 300. The first speaker is the deputy mayor of Graz, Mario Eustacchio, from Austria’s far-right Freedom party. He lashes out against what he calls modern obsessions with “human rights”, which he says have produced a “catastrophic situation in Europe”.

Next is Andre Poggenburg, the regional head of the German far-right Alternative fiir Deutschland party in Saxony Anhalt. He calls for Grexit, Germany’s departure from the EU. He wants a “fortress Europe” that will ally with Putin’s Russia, a regime clearly admired in these circles. A blonde woman wearing a satin dress stands up to sing German and Russian patriotic songs. Another AfD member follows. He uses the word Mitteldeutschland (central Germany) in reference to former East Germany as if more German territories lie beyond the Oder-Neisse line which has marked the border with Poland since the second world war.

After that, an Austrian publisher complains about “censorship” of the word Neger (negro).

Later, there are speeches by self-styled “alternative media” representatives, who explain that infiltrating social networks helps “influence public opinion”, for example by posting insults on Angela Merkel’s Facebook page. And to top it all off, a youthful, elected politician from Italy’s South Tyrol calls, hand on chest, for his region to be annexed by Austria.

Stepping out for some fresh air, I stroll around some stalls showcasing various publications, including those of Les Identitaires, a racist French group calling for a “white Europe”. Other books carry titles such as Race, Evolution and Behaviour, or The Young Hitler, A Corrected Biography. I pick up a copy of The Brainwashing of Germans and its Lasting Consequences. It is the opposite of the message I wrote in a book (Les Amnésiques) about Germany’s postwar transformation and its efforts to deal with its Nazi past, through the story of my own family.

I am the granddaughter of a German member of the Nazi party and of a French gendarme who served under the Vichy regime, which collaborated with the Nazis. My German grandfather was not an ideological National Socialist, he joined out of opportunism and for convenience. He took advantage of Nazi “Aryanisation” policies to buy a Jewish family business at a low price. My grandmother was not a card carrying Nazi, but was fascinated by the Führer. Between them, they were typical of the Mitlaüfer (followers): those masses of people who, through blinkered vision and small acts of cowardice, helped create the conditions for the Third Reich to perpetrate its crimes.

After 1945, Germany’s trickiest task was not setting up new institutions or prosecuting highproflle criminals, it was transforming the mindset of an entire population whose moral standing had been reversed by Nazism in ways that made crime appear not only legal but heroic. My grandparents never acknowledged their responsibilities as Mitlaüfer. But their son, my father, became part of a generation that confronted its parents and forced Germans to ask themselves: What did I do? What could I have done? How do I act now?

One of the greatest achievements of the memorial work Germany has undertaken since the 1960s has been to infuse many of its citizens with a historical conscience and a sense of duty towards democracy, as well as a critical attitude towards populism and extremism both left and right. In France, the taboo long attached to how people behaved under Vichy made such teachings more difficult. In Italy, Austria and eastern Europe, efforts to reckon with their past as allies of the Nazis were even weaker.

It is no coincidence that these are countries where patterns of extremism we’d thought long gone have returned.

But now, Germany in turn is affected. Last September, 12,6% of voters cast a ballot for the MD, allowing a far-right party to secure a strong position in parliament for the first time since the second world war. The arrival of more than a million refugees seems to have broken down the safeguards. In former East Germany where no true reckoning of the past was possible under communism because state propaganda held West Germans solely responsible for Nazism the AfD’s popularity was twice as high as in western parts of the country.

What worries me most is that younger generations in Germany and elsewhere feel less and less concerned with the history of fascism, and hence risk becoming indifferent to the new threats. That’s precisely what the MD strives for when it says it wants a “ISO-degree turn” from the tradition of atoning for Nazism, and suggests the Holocaust memorial in Berlin should be closed down, and Wehrmacht soldiers rehabilitated. It’s also what the Austrian FPO has in mind when its MPs refuse to applaud a speech commemorating the 1938 Kristallnacht massacre.

Today’s far-right parties want to downplay Nazi crimes as a first step towards reawakening ideas from that era: the notion that a hierarchy can be drawn among humans according to their race or their religion, the acceptance of violence and hatred, mendacious propaganda and devotion to a strong leader.

“Empathy is a weakness” was the motto of the SS.

We have to give young people a knowledge of the past, and a pride in belonging to a continent where two totalitarian systems were ultimately defeated. Democracy in Europe was built through blood, sweat and tears the dignity of citizens was eventually restored. Now is the time to remember.

*

Geraldine Schwarz is a Berlin based German/French journalist and author of Les Amnesiques

Childhood Disrupted. How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal – Donna Jackson Nakazawa * The Origins of Addiction. Evidence from the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study – Vincent J. Felitti, MD.

Chronic adversities change the architecture of a child’s brain, altering the expression of genes that control stress hormone output, triggering an overactive inflammatory stress response for life, and predisposing the child to adult disease.

“I felt myself a stranger at life’s party.”

New findings in neuroscience, psychology, and medicine have recently unveiled the exact ways in which childhood adversity biologically alters us for life. The past can tick away inside us for decades like a silent time bomb, until it sets off a cellular message that lets us know the body does not forget the past. Something that happened to you when you were five or fifteen can land you in the hospital thirty years later, whether that something was headline news, or happened quietly, without anyone else knowing it, in the living room of your childhood home.

No matter how old you are, or how old your children may be, there are scientifically supported and relatively simple steps that you can take to reboot the brain, create new pathways that promote healing, and come back to who it is you were meant to be.

Our findings are disturbing to some because they imply that the basic causes of addiction lie within us and the way we treat each other, not in drug dealers or dangerous chemicals. They suggest that billions of dollars have been spent everywhere except where the answer is to be found. Our findings indicate that the major factor underlying addiction is adverse childhood experiences that have not healed with time and that are overwhelmingly concealed from awareness by shame, secrecy, and social taboo.

“I wept, I saw how much people had suffered and I wept.” Robert Anda

“Our findings exceeded anything we had conceived. The correlation between having a difficult childhood and facing illness as an adult offered a whole new lens through which we could view human health and disease. Here was the missing piece as to what was causing so much of our unspoken suffering as human beings. Time does not heal all wounds. One does not ‘just get over’ something, not even fifty years later. Instead time conceals. And human beings convert traumatic emotional experiences in childhood into organic disease later in life.” Vincent Felitti

Adverse childhood experiences are the main determinant of the health and social well being of a nation.

This book explores how the experiences of childhood shape us into the adults we become. Cutting-edge research tells us that what doesn’t kill you doesn’t necessarily make you stronger. Far more often, the opposite is true: the early chronic unpredictable stressors, losses, and adversities we face as children shape our biology in ways that predetermine our adult health. This early biological blueprint depicts our proclivity to develop life altering adult illnesses such as heart disease, cancer, autoimmune disease, fibromyalgia, and depression. It also lays the groundwork for how we relate to others, how successful our love relationships will be, and how well we will nurture and raise our own children.

My own investigation into the relationship between childhood adversity and adult physical health began after I’d spent more than a dozen years struggling to manage several life limiting autoimmune illnesses while raising young children and working as a journalist. In my forties, I was paralyzed twice with an autoimmune disease known as Guillain-Barré syndrome, similar to multiple sclerosis, but with a more sudden onset. I had muscle weakness; pervasive numbness; a pacemaker for vasovagal syncope, a fainting and seizing disorder; white and red blood cell counts so low my doctor suspected a problem was brewing in my bone marrow; and thyroid disease.

Still I knew: I was fortunate to be alive, and I was determined to live the fullest life possible. If the muscles in my hands didn’t cooperate, I clasped an oversized pencil in my fist to write. If I couldn’t get up the stairs because my legs resisted, I sat down halfway up and rested. I gutted through days battling flulike fatigue, pushing away fears about what might happen to my body next; faking it through work phone calls while lying prone on the floor; reserving what energy I had for moments with my children, husband, and family life; pretending that our “normal” was really okay by me. It had to be, there was no alternative in sight.

Increasingly, I devoted my skills as a science journalist to helping women with chronic illness, writing about the intersection between neuroscience, our immune systems, and the innermost workings of our human hearts. I investigated the many triggers of disease, reporting on chemicals in our environment and foods, genetics, and how inflammatory stress undermines our health. I reported on how going green, eating clean, and practices like mind-body meditation can help us to recuperate and recover. At health conferences I lectured to patients, doctors, and scientists. My mission became to do all I could to help readers who were caught in a chronic cycle of suffering, inflammation, or pain to live healthier, better lives.

In the midst of that quest, three years ago, in 2012, I came across a growing body of science based on a groundbreaking public health research study, the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study, or ACE Study. The ACE Study shows a clear scientific link between many types of childhood adversity and the adult onset of physical disease and mental health disorders. These traumas include being verbally put down and humiliated; being emotionally or physically neglected; being physically or sexually abused; living with a depressed parent, a parent with a mental illness, or a parent who is addicted to alcohol or other substances; witnessing one’s mother being abused; and losing a parent to separation or divorce. The ACE Study measured ten types of adversity, but new research tells us that other types of childhood trauma, such as losing a parent to death, witnessing a sibling being abused, violence in one’s community, growing up in poverty, witnessing a father being abused by a mother, being bullied by a classmate or teacher, also have a longterm impact.

These types of chronic adversities change the architecture of a child’s brain, altering the expression of genes that control stress hormone output, triggering an overactive inflammatory stress response for life, and predisposing the child to adult disease. ACE research shows that 64 percent of adults faced one ACE in their childhood, and 40 percent faced two or more.

My own doctor at Johns Hopkins medical institutions confessed to me that she suspected that, given the chronic stress I’d faced in my childhood, my body and brain had been marinating in toxic inflammatory chemicals my whole life, predisposing me to the diseases I now faced.

My own story was a simple one of loss. When I was a girl, my father died suddenly. My family struggled and became estranged from our previously tight knit, extended family. I had been exceptionally close to my father and I had looked to him for my sense of being safe, okay, and valued in the world. In every photo of our family, I’m smiling, clasped in his arms. When he died, childhood suddenly ended, overnight. If I am honest with myself, looking back, I cannot recall a single “happy memory” from there on out in my childhood. It was no one’s fault. It just was. And I didn’t dwell on any of that. In my mind, people who dwelled on their past, and especially on their childhood, were emotionally suspect.

I soldiered on. Life catapulted forward. I created a good life, worked hard as a science journalist to help meaningful causes, married a really good husband, and brought up children I adored, children I worked hard to stay alive for. But other than enjoying the lovely highlights of a hard won family life, or being with close friends, I was pushing away pain.

I felt myself a stranger at life’s party. My body never let me forget that inside, pretend as I might, I had been masking a great deal of loss for a very long time. I felt myself to be “not like other people.”

Seen through the lens of the new field of research into Adverse Childhood Experiences, it suddenly seemed almost predictable that, by the time I was in my early forties, my health would deteriorate and I would be brought, in my case, quite literally, to my knees.

Like many people, I was surprised, even dubious, when I first learned about ACEs and heard that so much of what we experience as adults is so inextricably linked to our childhood experiences. I did not consider myself to be someone who had had Adverse Childhood Experiences. But when I took the ACES questionnaire and discovered my own ACE Score, my story also began to make so much more sense to me. This science was entirely new, but it also supported old ideas that we have long known to be true: “the child is father of the man.” This research also told me that none of us is alone in our suffering.

One hundred thirty three million Americans suffer from chronic illness and 116 million suffer from chronic pain. This revelation of the link between childhood adversity and adult illness can inform all of our efforts to heal. With this knowledge, physicians, health practitioners, psychologists, and psychiatrists can better understand their patients and find new insights to help them. And this knowledge will help us ensure that the children in our lives, whether we are parents, mentors, teachers, or coaches, don’t suffer from the long term consequences of these sorts of adversity.

To learn everything I could, I spent two years interviewing the leading scientists who research and study the effects of Adverse Childhood Experiences and toxic childhood stress. I combed through seventy research papers that comprise the ACE Study and hundreds of other studies from our nation’s best research institutions that support and complement these findings. And I followed thirteen individuals who suffered early adversity and later faced adult health struggles, who were able to forge their own lifechanging paths to physical and emotional healing.

In these pages, I explore the damage that Adverse Childhood Experiences can do to the brain and body; how these invisible changes contribute to the development of disease including autoimmune diseases, long into adulthood; why some individuals are more likely to be affected by early adversity than others; why girls and women are more affected than men; and how early adversity affects our ability to love and parent.

Just as important, I explore how we can reverse the effects of early toxic stress on our biology, and come back to being who we really are. I hope to help readers to avoid spending so much of their lives locked in pain.

Some points to bear in mind as you read these pages:

– Adverse Childhood Experiences should not be confused with the inevitable small challenges of childhood that create resilience. There are many normal moments in a happy childhood, when things don’t go a child’s way, when parents lose it and apologize, when children fail and learn to try again. Adverse Childhood Experiences are very different sorts of experiences; they are scary, chronic, unpredictable stressors, and often a child does not have the adult support needed to help navigate safely through them.

– Adverse Childhood Experiences are linked to a far greater likelihood of illness in adulthood, but they are not the only factor. All disease is multifactorial. Genetics, exposures to toxins, and infection all play a role. But for those who have experienced ACEs and toxic stress, other disease promoting factors become more damaging.

To use a simple metaphor, imagine the immune system as being something like a barrel. If you encounter too many environmental toxins from chemicals, a poor processed food diet, viruses, infections, and chronic or acute stressors in adulthood, your barrel will slowly fill. At some point, there may be one certain exposure, that last drop that causes the barrel to spill over and disease to develop.

Having faced the chronic unpredictable stressors of Adverse Childhood Experiences is a lot like starting life with your barrel half full. ACEs are not the only factor in determining who will develop disease later in life. But they may make it more likely that one will.

– The research into Adverse Childhood Experiences has some factors in common with the research on post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. But childhood adversity can lead to a far wider range of physical and emotional health consequences than the overt symptoms of posttraumatic stress. They are not the same.

– The Adverse Childhood Experiences of extreme poverty and neighborhood violence are not addressed specifically in the original research. Yet clearly, growing up in unsafe neighborhoods where there is poverty and gang violence or in a war-torn area anywhere around the world creates toxic childhood stress, and that relationship is now being more deeply studied. It is an important field of inquiry and one I do not attempt to address here; that is a different book, but one that is no less important.

– Adverse Childhood Experiences are not an excuse for egregious behavior. They should not be considered a “blame the childhood” moral pass. The research allows us to finally tackle real and lasting physical and emotional change from an entirely new vantage point, but it is not about making excuses.

This research is not an invitation to blame parents. Adverse Childhood Experiences are often an intergenerational legacy, and patterns of neglect, maltreatment, and adversity almost always originate many generations prior to one’s own.

The new science on Adverse Childhood Experiences and toxic stress has given us a new lens through which to understand the human story; why we suffer; how we parent, raise, and mentor our children; how we might better prevent, treat, and manage illness in our medical care system; and how we can recover and heal on a deeper level than we thought possible.

And that last bit is the best news of all. The brain, which is so changeable in childhood, remains malleable throughout life. Today researchers around the world have discovered a range of powerful ways to reverse the damage that Adverse Childhood Experiences do to both brain and body. No matter how old you are, or how old your children may be, there are scientifically supported and relatively simple steps that you can take to reboot the brain, create new pathways that promote healing, and come back to who it is you were meant to be.

To find out about how many categories of ACEs you might have faced when you were a child or teenager, and your own ACE Score, turn the page and take the Adverse Childhood Experiences Survey for yourself.

TAKE THE ADVERSE CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES (ACE) SURVEY

You may have picked up this book because you had a painful or traumatic childhood. You may suspect that your past has something to do with your current health problems, your depression, or your anxiety. Or perhaps you are reading this book because you are worried about the health of a spouse, partner, friend, parent, or even your own child, who has survived a trauma or suffered adverse experiences. In order to assess the likelihood that an Adverse Childhood Experience is affecting your health or the health of your loved one, please take a moment to fill out the following survey before you read this book.

ADVERSE CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES SURVEY

Prior to your eighteenth birthday:

1. Did a parent or another adult in the household

often or very often . . . swear at you, insult you, put you down, or humiliate you? Or act in a way that made you afraid that you might be physically hurt?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

2. Did a parent or another adult in the household

often or very often . . . push, grab, slap, or throw something at you? Or ever hit you so hard that you had marks or were injured?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

3. Did an adult or person at least five years older than you

ever touch or fondle you or have you touch their body in a sexual way? Or attempt to touch you or touch you inappropriately or sexually abuse you?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

4. Did you often or very often feel that

noone in your family loved you or thought you were important or special? Or feel that your family members didn’t look out for one another, feel close to one another, or support one another?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

5. Did you often or very often

feel that you didn’t have enough to eat, had to wear dirty clothes, and had no one to protect you? Or that your parents were too drunk or high to take care of you or take you to the doctor if you needed it?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

6. Was a biological parent ever lost to you

through divorce, abandonment, or another reason?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

7. Was your mother or stepmother often or very often

pushed, grabbed, slapped, or have something thrown at her? Or was she sometimes, often, or very often kicked, bitten, hit with a fist, or hit with something hard? Or ever repeatedly hit over the course of at least a few minutes or threatened with a gun or knife?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

8. Did you live with anyone who was

a problem drinker or alcoholic, or who used street drugs?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

9. Was a household member

depressed or mentally ill, or did a household member attempt suicide?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

10. Did a household member go to prison?

Yes No, If yes, enter 1

Add up your “Yes” answers: (this is your ACE Score)

Now take a moment and ask yourself how your experiences might be affecting your physical, emotional, and mental well-being. Is it possible that someone you love has been affected by Adverse Childhood Experiences they experienced? Are any children or young people you care for in adverse situations now?

Keep your Adverse Childhood Experiences Score in mind as you read the stories and science that follow, and keep your own experiences in mind, as well as those of the people you love. You may find this science to be the missing link in understanding why you or your loved one is having health problems. And this missing link will also lead to the information you will need in order to heal.

PART 1

How It Is We Become Who We Are

CHAPTER ONE

Every Adult Was Once a Child

If you saw Laura walking down the New York City street where she lives today, you’d see a well dressed forty six year old woman with auburn hair and green eyes who exudes a sense of “I matter here.” She looks entirely in charge of her life, as long as you don’t see the small ghosts trailing after her.

When Laura was growing up, her mom was bipolar. Laura’s mom had her good moments: she helped Laura with school projects, braided her hair, and taught her the name of every bird at the bird feeder. But when Laura’s mom suffered from depressive bouts, she’d lock herself in her room for hours. At other times she was manic and hypercritical, which took its toll on everyone around her. Laura’s dad, a vascular surgeon, was kind to Laura, but rarely around. He was, she says, “home late, out the door early, and then just plain out the doom”

Laura recalls a family trip to the Grand Canyon when she was ten. In a photo taken that day, Laura and her parents sit on a bench, sporting tourist whites. The sky is blue and cloudless, and behind them the dark, ribboned shadows of the canyon stretch deep and wide. It is a perfect summer day.

“That afternoon my mom was teaching me to identify the ponderosa pines,” Laura recalls. “Anyone looking at us would have assumed we were a normal, loving family.” Then, something seemed to shift, as it sometimes would. Laura’s parents began arguing about where to set up the tripod for their family photo. By the time the three of them sat down, her parents weren’t speaking. As they put on fake smiles for the camera, Laura’s mom suddenly pinched her daughter’s midriff around the back rim of her shorts, and told her to stop “staring off into space.” Then, a second pinch: “no wonder you’re turning into a butterball, you ate so much cheesecake last night you’re hanging over your shorts!”

If you look hard at Laura’s face in the photograph, you can see that she’s not squinting at the Arizona sun, but holding back tears.

When Laura was fifteen, her dad moved three states away with a new wife to be. He sent cards and money, but called less and less often. Her mother’s untreated bipolar disorder worsened. Laura’s days were punctuated with put downs that caught her off guard as she walked across the living room. “My mom would spit out something like, ‘You look like a semiwide from behind. If you’re ever wondering why no boy asks you out, that’s why!”’ One of Laura’s mother’s recurring lines was, “You were such a pretty baby, I don’t know what happened.” Sometimes Laura recalls, “My mom would go on a vitriolic diatribe about my dad until spittle foamed on her chin. I’d stand there, trying not to hear her as she went on and on, my whole body shaking inside.”

Laura never invited friends over, for fear they’d find out her secret: her mom “wasn’t like other moms.”

Some thirty years later, Laura says, “In many ways, no matter where I go or what I do, I’m still in my mother’s house.” Today, “If a car swerves into my lane, a grocery store clerk is rude, my husband and I argue, or my boss calls me in to talk over a problem, I feel something flip over inside. It’s like there’s a match standing inside too near a flame, and with the smallest breeze, it ignites.” Something, she says, “just doesn’t feel right. Things feel bigger than they should be. Some days, I feel as if I’m living my life in an emotional boom box where the volume is turned up too high.”

To see Laura, you would never know that she is “always shaking a little, only invisibly, deep down in my cells.”

Laura’s sense that something is wrong inside is mirrored by her physical health. In her mid thirties, she began suffering from migraines that landed her in bed for days at a time. At forty, Laura developed an autoimmune thyroid disease. At forty four, during a routine exam, Laura’s doctor didn’t like the sound of her heart. An EKG revealed an arrhythmia. An echocardiogram showed that Laura had a condition known as dilated cardiomyopathy. The left ventricle of her heart was weak; the muscle had trouble pumping blood into her heart. Next thing Laura knew, she was a heart disease patient, undergoing surgery. Today, Laura has a cardioverter defibrillator implanted in the left side of her chest to prevent heart failure. The two-inch scar from the implant is deceivingly small.

John’s parents met in Asia when his father was deployed there as an army officer. After a whirlwind romance, his parents married and moved to the United States. For as long as John can remember, he says, “my parents’ marriage was deeply troubled, as was my relationship with my dad. I consider myself to have been raised by my mom and her mom. I longed to feel a deeper connection with my dad, but it just wasn’t there. He couldn’t extend himself in that way.”

John occasionally runs his hands through his short blond hair, as he carefully chooses his words. “My dad would get so worked up and pissed off about trivial things. He’d throw out opinions that we all knew were factually incorrect, and just keep arguing.” If John’s dad said the capital of New York was New York City, it didn’t matter if John showed him it was Albany. “He’d ask me to help in the garage and I’d be doing everything right, and then a half hour into it I’d put the screwdriver down in the wrong spot and he’d start yelling and not let up. There was never any praise. Even when he was the one who’d made a mistake, it somehow became my fault. He could not be wrong about anything.”

As John got older, it seemed wrong to him that “my dad was constantly pointing out all the mistakes that my brother and I made, without acknowledging any of his own.” His dad chronically criticized his mother, who was, John says, “kinder and more confident.”

When John was twelve, he interjected himself into the fights between his parents. One Christmas Eve, when he was fifteen, John awoke to the sound of “a scream and a commotion. I realized it was my mother screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran into my parents’ room, shouting, ‘What the hell is going on here?’ My mother sputtered, ‘He’s choking me!’ My father had his hands around my mother’s neck. I yelled at him: ‘You stay right here! Don’t you dare move! Mom is coming with me!’ I took my mother downstairs. She was sobbing. I was trying to understand what was happening, trying to be the adult between them.”

Later that Christmas morning, John’s father came down the steps to the living room where John and his mom were sleeping. “No one explained,” he says. “My little brother came downstairs and we had Christmas morning as if nothing had happened.”

Not long after, John’s grandmother, “who’d been an enormous source of love for my mom and me,” died suddenly. John says, “It was a terrible shock and loss for both of us. My father couldn’t support my mom or me in our grieving. He told my mom, ‘You just need to get over it!’ He was the quintessential narcissist. If it wasn’t about him, it wasn’t important, it wasn’t happening.”

Today, John is a boyish forty. He has warm hazel eyes and a wide, affable grin that would be hard not to warm up to. But beneath his easy, open demeanor, John struggles with an array of chronic illnesses.

By the time John was thirty three, his blood pressure was shockingly high for a young man. He began to experience bouts of stabbing stomach pain and diarrhea and often had blood in his stool. These episodes grew more frequent. He had a headache every day of his life. By thirty four, he’d developed chronic fatigue, and was so wiped out that sometimes he struggled to make it through an entire day at work.

For years, John had loved to go hiking to relieve stress, but by the time he was thirty five, he couldn’t muster the physical stamina. “One day it hit me, I’m still a young man and I’ll never go hiking again.’ ”

John’s relationships, like his physical body, were never quite healthy. John remembers falling deeply in love in his early thirties. After dating his girlfriend for a year, she invited him to meet her family. During his stay with them, John says, “I became acutely aware of how different I was from kids who grew up without the kind of shame and blame I endured.” One night, his girlfriend, her sisters, and their boyfriends all decided to go out dancing. “Everyone was sitting around the dinner table planning this great night out and I remember looking around at her family and the only thing going through my mind were these words: ‘I do not belong here.’ Everyone seemed so normal and happy. I was horrified suddenly at the idea of trying to play along and pretend that I knew how to be part of a happy family.”

So John faked “being really tired. My girlfriend was sweet and stayed with me and we didn’t go. She kept asking what was wrong and at some point I just started crying and I couldn’t stop. She wanted to help, but instead of telling her how insecure I was, or asking for her reassurance, I told her I was crying because I wasn’t in love with her.”

John’s girlfriend was, he says, “completely devastated.” She drove John to a hotel that night. “She and her family were shocked. No one could understand what had happened.” Even though John had been deeply in love, his fear won out. “I couldn’t let her find out how crippled I was by the shame and grief I carried inside.”

Bleeding from his inflamed intestines, exhausted by chronic fatigue, debilitated and distracted by pounding headaches, often struggling with work, and unable to feel comfortable in a relationship, John was stuck in a universe of pain and solitude, and he couldn’t get out.

Georgia’s childhood seems far better than the norm: she had two living parents who stayed married through thick and thin, and they lived in a stunning home with walls displaying Ivy League diplomas; Georgia’s father was a well-respected, Yale-educated investment banker. Her mom stayed at home with Georgia and two younger sisters. The five of them appear, in photos, to be the perfect family.

All seemed fine, growing up, practically perfect.

“But I felt, very early on, that something wasn’t quite right in our home, and that no one was talking about it,” Georgia says. “Our house was saturated by a kind of unease all the time. You could never put your finger on what it was, but it was there.”

Georgia’s mom was “emotionally distant and controlling,” Georgia recalls. “If you said or did something she didn’t like, she had a way of going stone cold right in front of you she’d become what I used to think of as a moving statue that looked like my mother, only she wouldn’t look at you or speak to you.” The hardest part was that Georgia never knew what she’d done wrong. “I just knew that l was shut out of her world until whenever she decided I was worth speaking to again.”

For instance, her mother would “give my sisters and me a tiny little tablespoon of ice cream and then say, ‘You three will just have to share that.’ We knew better than to complain. If we did, she’d tell us how ungrateful we were, and suddenly she wouldn’t speak to us.”

Georgia’s father was a borderline alcoholic and “would occasionally just blow up over nothing,” she says. “One time he was changing a light bulb and he just started cursing and screaming because it broke. He had these unpredictable eruptions of rage. They were rare but unforgettable.” Georgia was so frightened at times that “I’d run like a dog with my tail between my legs to hide until it was safe to come out again.”

Georgia was “so sensitive to the shifting vibe in our house that I could tell when my father was about to erupt before even he knew. The air would get so tight and I’d know, it’s going to happen again.” The worst part was that “We had to pretend my father’s outbursts weren’t happening. He’d scream about something minor, and then he’d go take a nap. Or you’d hear him strumming his guitar in his den.”

Between her mother’s silent treatments and her dad’s tirades, Georgia spent much of her childhood trying to anticipate and move out of the way of her parents’ anger. She had the sense, even when she was nine or ten, “that their anger was directed at each other. They didn’t fight, but there was a constant low hum of animosity between them. At times it seemed they vehemently hated each other.” Once, fearing that her inebriated father would crash his car after an argument with her mother, Georgia stole his car keys and refused to give them back.

Today, at age forty nine, Georgia is reflective about her childhood. “I internalized all the emotions that were storming around me in my house, and in some ways it’s as if I’ve carried all that external angst inside me all my life.” Over the decades, carrying that pain has exacted a high toll. At first, Georgia says, “My physical pain began as a low whisper in my body.” But by the time she entered Columbia graduate school to pursue a PhD in classics, “I’d started having severe back problems. I was in so much physical pain, I could not sit in a chair. I had to study lying down.” At twenty six, Georgia was diagnosed with degenerative disc disease. “My body just started screaming with its pain.”

Over the next few years, in addition to degenerative disc disease, Georgia was diagnosed with severe depression, adrenal fatigue, and finally, fibromyalgia. “I’ve spent my adult life in doctors’ clinics and trying various medications to relieve my pain,” she says. “But there is no relief in sight.”

Laura’s, John’s, and Georgia’s life stories illustrate the physical price we pay, as adults, for childhood adversity. New findings in neuroscience, psychology, and medicine have recently unveiled the exact ways in which childhood adversity biologically alters us for life.

This groundbreaking research tells us that the emotional trauma we face when we are young has farther reaching consequences than we might have imagined.

Adverse Childhood Experiences change the architecture of our brains and the health of our immune systems, they trigger and sustain inflammation in both body and brain, and they influence our overall physical health and longevity long into adulthood.

These physical changes, in turn, prewrite the story of how we will react to the world around us, and how well we will work, and parent, befriend, and love other people throughout the course of our adult lives.

This is true whether our childhood wounds are deeply traumatic, such as witnessing violence in our family, as John did; or more chronic living room variety humiliations, such as those Laura endured; or more private but pervasive familial dysfunctions, such as Georgia’s.

All of these Adverse Childhood Experiences can lead to deep biophysical changes in a child that profoundly alter the developing brain and immunology in ways that also change the health of the adult he or she will become.

Scientists have come to this startling understanding of the link between Adverse Childhood Experiences and later physical illness in adulthood thanks, in large part, to the work of two individuals: a dedicated physician in San Diego, and a determined medical epidemiologist from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). Together, during the 1980s and 1990s, the same years when Laura, John, and Georgia were growing up, these two researchers slowly uncovered the stunning scientific link between Adverse Childhood Experiences and later physical and neurological inflammation and life changing adult health outcomes.

The Philosophical Physicians

In 1985 physician and researcher Vincent J. Felitti, MD, chief of a revolutionary preventive care initiative at the Kaiser Permanente Medical Program in San Diego, noticed a startling pattern: adult patients who were obese also alluded to traumatic incidents in their childhood. Felitti came to this realization almost by accident.

In the mid 1980s, a significant number of patients in Kaiser Permanente’s obesity program were, with the help and support of Felitti and his nurses, successfully losing hundreds of pounds a year nonsurgically, a remarkable feat. The program seemed a resounding success, up until a large number of patients who were losing substantial amounts of weight began to drop out.

The attrition rate didn’t make sense, and Felitti was determined to find out what was going on. He conducted face-to-face interviews with 286 patients. In the course of Felitti’s one-on-one conversations, a striking number of patients confided that they had faced trauma in their childhood; many had been sexually abused. To these patients, eating was a solution: it soothed the anxiety, fear, and depression that they had secreted away inside for decades. Their weight served, too, as a shield against unwanted physical attention, and they didn’t want to let it go.

Felitti’s conversations with this large group of patients allowed him to perceive a pattern, and a new way of looking at human health and well-being, that other physicians just were not seeing. It became clear to him that, for his patients, obesity, “though an obvious physical sign,” was not the core problem to be treated, “any more than smoke is the core problem to be treated in house fires.”

In 1990, Felitti presented his findings at a national obesity conference. He told the group of physicians gathered that he believed “certain of our intractable public health problems” had root causes hidden “by shame, by secrecy, and by social taboos against exploring certain areas of life experience.”….

*

from

Childhood Disrupted. How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal

by Donna Jackson Nakazawa

get it at Amazon.com


The Origins of Addiction: Evidence from the Adverse Childhood Experiences Study

Vincent J. Felitti, MD

Department of Preventive Medicine Kaiser Permanente Medical Care Program

”In my beginning is my end.” T.S. Elliot, “Four Quartets”

ABSTRACT:

A population based analysis of over 17,000 middle class American adults undergoing comprehensive, biopsychosocial medical evaluation indicates that three common categories of addiction are strongly related in a proportionate manner to several specific categories of adverse experiences during childhood. This, coupled with related information. suggests that the basic cause of addiction is predominantly experience dependent during childhood and not substance dependent. This challenge to the usual concept of the cause of addictions has significant implications for medical practice and for treatment programs.

Purpose: My intent is to challenge the usual concept of addiction with new evidence from a population based clinical study of over 17,000 adult, middle class Americans.

The usual concept of addiction essentially states that the compulsive use of ‘addictive’ substances is in some way caused by properties intrinsic to their molecular structure’. This view confuses mechanism with cause. Because any accepted explanation of addiction has social. medical. therapeutic, and legal implications, the way one understands addiction is important. Confusing mechanism with basic cause quickly leads one down a path that is misleading. Here, new data is presented to stimulate rethinking the basis of addiction.

Background: The information I present comes from the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study. The ACE Study deals with the basic causes underlying the 10 most common causes of death in America; addiction is only one of several outcomes studied.

In the mid 1980s, physicians in Kaiser Permanente’s Department of Preventive Medicine in San Diego discovered that patients successfully losing weight in the Weight Program were the most likely to drop out. This unexpected observation led to our discovery that overeating and obesity were often being used unconsciously as protective solutions to unrecognized problems dating back to childhood.” Counterintuitively, obesity provided hidden benefits: it often was sexually, physically, or emotionally protective.

Our discovery that public health problems like obesity could also be personal solutions, and our finding an unexpectedly high prevalence of adverse childhood experiences in our middle class adult population, led to collaboration with the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) to document their prevalence and to study the implications of these unexpected clinical observations. I am deeply indebted to my colleague, Robert F. Anda MD, who skillfully designed the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study in an epidemiologically sound manner, and whose group at CDC analyzed several hundred thousand pages of patient data to produce the data we have published.

Many of our obese patients had previously been heavy drinkers, heavy smokers, or users of illicit drugs. Of what relevance are these observations; do they imply some unspecified innate tendency to addiction? Is addiction genetic, as some have proposed for alcoholism? Is addiction a biomedical disease. a personality disorder. or something different? Are diseases and personality disorders separable. or are they ultimately related? What does one make of the dramatic recent findings in neurobiology that seem to promise a neurochemical explanation for addiction? Why does only a small percent of persons exposed to addictive substances become compulsive users?

Although the problem of narcotic addiction has led to extensive legislative attempts at eradication, its prevalence has not abated over the past century. However. the distribution pattern of narcotic use within the population has radically changed. attracting significant political attention and governmental actions The inability to control addiction by these major, well intended governmental efforts has drawn thoughtful and challenging commentary from a number of different viewpoints.

In our detailed study of over 17.000 middle class American adults of diverse ethnicity, we found that the compulsive use of nicotine, alcohol, and injected street drugs increases proportionally in a strong, graded dose response manner that closely parallels the intensity of adverse life experiences during childhood. This of course supports old psychoanalytic views and is at odds with current concepts, including those of biological psychiatry, drug treatment programs, and drug eradication programs.

Our findings are disturbing to some because they imply that the basic causes of addiction lie within us and the way we treat each other, not in drug dealers or dangerous chemicals. They suggest that billions of dollars have been spent everywhere except where the answer is to be found.

Study design: Kaiser Permanente (KP) is the largest prepaid. non profit. healthcare delivery system in the United States; there are 500,000 KP members in San Diego, approximately 30% of the greater metropolitan population. We invited 26,000 consecutive adults voluntarily seeking comprehensive medical evaluation in the Department of Preventive Medicine to help us understand how events in childhood might later affect health status in adult life. Seventy percent agreed, understanding the information obtained was anonymous and would not become part of their medical records.

Our cohort population was 80% white including Hispanic, 10% black, and 10% Asian. Their average age was 57 years; 74% had been to college. 44% had graduated college; 49.5% were men.

In any four year period, 81% of all adult Kaiser Health Plan members seek such medical evaluation; there is no reason to believe that selection bias is a significant factor in the Study. The Study was carried out in two waves. to allow mid point correction if necessary. Further details of Study design are described in our initial publication.

The ACE Study compares adverse childhood experiences against adult health status, on average a half century later. The experiences studied were eight categories of adverse childhood experience commonly observed in the Weight Program. The prevalence of each category is stated in parentheses. The categories are:

1. recurrent and severe physical abuse (11%)

2. recurrent and severe emotional abuse (11%)

3. contact sexual abuse (22%)

growing up in a household with:

4. an alcoholic or drug user (25%)

5. a member being imprisoned (3%)

6. a mentally ill, chronically depressed, or institutionalized member (19%)

7. the mother being treated violently (12%)

8. both biological parents not being present (22%)

The scoring system is simple: exposure during childhood or adolescence to any category of ACE was scored as one point. Multiple exposures within a category were not scored: one alcoholic within a household counted the same as an alcoholic and a drug user; if anything, this tends to understate our findings. The ACE Score therefore can range from 0 to 8. Less than half of this middle class population had an ACE Score of 0; one in fourteen had an ACE Score of 4 or more.

In retrospect, an initial design flaw was not scoring subtle issues like low level neglect and lack of interest in a child who is otherwise the recipient of adequate physical care. This omission will not affect the interpretation of our First Wave findings, and may explain the presence of some unexpected outcomes in persons having ACE Score zero. Emotional neglect was studied in the Second Wave.

The ACE Study contains a prospective arm: the starting cohort is being followed forward in time to match adverse childhood experiences against current doctor office visits, emergency depanment visits, pharmacy costs, hospitalizations, and death. Publication of these analyses soon will begin.

Findings: Our overall findings. presented extensively in the American literature, demonstrate that:

– Adverse childhood experiences are surprisingly common. although typically concealed and unrecognized.

– ACEs still have a profound effect 50 years later, although now transformed from psychosocial experience into organic disease, social malfunction, and mental illness.

– Adverse childhood experiences are the main determinant of the health and social well being of the nation.

Our overall findings challenge conventional views, some of which are clearly defensive. They also provide opportunities for new approaches to some of our most difficult public health problems. Findings from the ACE Study provide insights into changes that are needed in pediatrics and adult medicine, which expectedly will have a significant impact on the cost and effectiveness of medical care.

Our intent here is to present our findings only as they relate to the problem of addiction, using nicotine, alcohol, and injected illicit drugs as examples of substances that are commonly viewed as ‘addicting‘. If we know why things happen and how, then we may have a new basis for prevention.

Smoking

Smoking tobacco has come under heavy opposition in the United States, particularly in southern California where the ACE Study was carried out. Whereas at one time most men and many women smoked, only a minority does so now; it is illegal to smoke in office buildings, public transportation, restaurants, bars, and in most areas of hotels.

When we studied current smokers, we found that smoking had a strong, graded relationship to adverse childhood experiences Figure 1 illustrates this clearly. The p value for this and all other data displays is .001 or better.

This stepwise 250% increase in the likelihood of an ACE Score 6 child being a current smoker, compared to an ACE Score 0 child. is generally not known. This simple observation has profound implications that illustrate the psychoactive benefits of nicotine; this information has largely been lost in the public health onslaught against smoking but is important in understanding the intractable nature of smoking in many people.

When we match the prevalence of adult chronic bronchitis and emphysema against ACEs, we again see a strong dose response relationship. We thereby proceed from the relationship of adverse childhood experiences to a health risk behavior to their relationship with an organic disease. In other words, Figure 2 illustrates the conversion of emotional stressors into an organic disease, through the intermediary mechanism of an emotionally beneficial (although medically unsafe) behavior.

Alcoholism

One’s own alcoholism is not easily or comfortably acknowledged; therefore. when we asked our Study cohort if they had ever considered themselves to be alcoholic, we felt that Yes answers probably understated the truth, making the effect even stronger than is shown. The relationship of self acknowledged alcoholism to adverse childhood experiences is depicted in Figure 3. Here we see that more than a 500% increase in adult alcoholism is related in a strong, graded manner to adverse childhood experiences.

Injection of illegal drugs

In the United States the most commonly injected street drugs are heroin and methamphetamine. Methamphetamine has the interesting property of being closely related to amphetamine, the first anti depressant introduced by Ciba Pharmaceuticals in 1932.

When we studied the relation of injecting illicit drugs to adverse childhood experiences, we again found a similar dose response pattern; the likelihood of injection of street drugs increases strongly and in a graded fashion as the ACE Score increases (Figure 4). At the extremes of ACE Score. the figures for injected drug use are even more powerful. For instance, a male child with an ACE Score of 6, when compared to a male child with an ACE Score of 0, has a 46 fold (4.600%) increase in the likelihood of becoming an injection drug user sometime later in life.

Discussion

Although awareness of the hazards of smoking is now near universal. and has caused a significant reduction in smoking, in recent years the prevalence of smoking has remained largely unchanged. In fact. the association between ACE score and smoking is stronger in age cohorts born after the Surgeon General’s Report on Smoking.

Do current smokers now represent a core of individuals who have a more profound need for the psychoactive benefits of nicotine than those who have given up smoking? Our clinical experience and data from the ACE Study suggest this as a likely possibility. Certainly, there is good evidence of the psychoactive benefits of nicotine for moderating anger anxiety, and hunger.

Alcohol is well accepted as a psychoactive agent. This obvious explanation of alcoholism is now sometimes rejected in favor of a proposed genetic causality. Certainly, alcoholism may be familial, as is language spoken. Our findings support an experiential and psychodynamic explanation for alcoholism, although this may well be moderated by genetic and metabolic differences between races and individuals.

Analysis of our Study data for injected drug use shows a powerful relation to ACEs. Population Attributable Risk (PAR) analysis shows that 78% of drug injection by women can be attributed to adverse childhood experiences. For men and women combined, the PAR is 67%. Moreover, this PAR has been constant in four age cohorts whose birth dates span a century; this indicates that the relation of adverse childhood experiences to illicit drug use has been constant in spite of major changes in drug availability and in social customs, and in the introduction of drug eradication programs.

American soldiers in Vietnam provided an important although overlooked observation. Many enlisted men in Vietnam regularly used heroin. However, only 5% of those considered addicted were still using it 10 months after their return to the US.” Treatment did not account for this high recovery rate.

Why does not everyone become addicted when they repeatedly inject a substance reputedly as addicting as heroin? If a substance like heroin is not inherently addicting to everyone, but only to a small minority of human users, what determines this selectivity? Is it the substance that is intrinsically addicting, or do life experiences actually determine its compulsive use? Surely its chemical structure remains constant.

Our findings indicate that the major factor underlying addiction is adverse childhood experiences that have not healed with time and that are overwhelmingly concealed from awareness by shame, secrecy, and social taboo.

The compulsive user appears to be one who, not having other resolutions available, unconsciously seeks relief by using materials with known psychoactive benefit, accepting the known long term risk of injecting illicit, impure chemicals. The ACE Study provides population based clinical evidence that unrecognized adverse childhood experiences are a major, if not the major, determinant of who turns to psychoactive materials and becomes ‘addicted’.

Given that the conventional concept of addiction is seriously flawed, and that we have presented strong evidence for an alternative explanation, we propose giving up our old mechanistic explanation of addiction in favor of one that explains it in terms of its psychodynamics: unconscious although understandable decisions being made to seek chemical relief from the ongoing effects of old trauma, often at the cost of accepting future health risk.

Expressions like ‘self destructive behavior’ are misleading and should be dropped because, while describing the acceptance of long term risk, they overlook the importance of the obvious short term benefits that drive the use of these substances.

This revised concept of addiction suggests new approaches to primary prevention and treatment. The current public health approach of repeated cautionary warnings has demonstrated its limitations, perhaps because the cautions do not respect the individual when they exhort change without understanding.

Adverse childhood experiences are widespread and typically unrecognized. These experiences produce neurodevelopmental and emotional damage, and impair social and school performance. By adolescence, children have a sufficient skill and independence to seek relief through a small number of mechanisms, many of which have been in use since biblical times: drinking alcohol, sexual promiscuity, smoking tobacco, using psychoactive materials, and overeating. These coping devices are manifestly effective for their users, presumably through their ability to modulate the activity of various neurotransmitters. Nicotine, for instance. is a powerful substitute for the neurotransmitter acetylcholine. Not surprisingly, the level of some neurotransmitters varies genetically between individuals.

It is these coping devices, with their short term emotional benefits, that often pose long term risks leading to chronic disease; many lead to premature death. This sequence is depicted in the ACE Pyramid (Figure 5). The sequence is slow, often unstoppable, and is generally obscured by time, secrecy, and social taboo. Time does not heal in most of these instances. Because cause and effect usually lie within a family, it is understandably more comforting to demonize a chemical than to look within. We find that addiction overwhelmingly implies prior adverse life experiences.

The sequence in the ACE Pyramid supports psychoanalytic observations that addiction is primarily a consequence of adverse childhood experiences. Moreover, it does so by a population based study, thereby escaping the potential selection bias of individual case reports.

Addiction is not a brain disease, nor is it caused by chemical imbalance or genetics. Addiction is best viewed as an understandable, unconscious, compulsive use of psychoactive materials in response to abnormal prior life experiences, most of which are concealed by shame, secrecy, and social taboo.

Our findings show that childhood experiences profoundly and causally shape adult life‘ ‘Chemical imbalances’. whether genetically modulated or not, are the necessary intermediary mechanisms by which these causal life experiences are translated into manifest effect. It is important to distinguish between cause and mechanism. Uncertainty and confusion between the two will lead to needless polemics and misdirected efforts for preventing or treating addiction, whether on a social or an individual scale.

Our findings also make it clear that studying any one category of adverse experience, be it domestic violence. childhood sexual abuse, or other forms of family dysfunction is a conceptual error. None occur in vacuum; they are part of a complex systems failure: one does not grow up with an alcoholic where everything else in the household is fine.

Treatment

If we are to improve the current unhappy situation, we must in medical settings routinely screen at the earliest possible point for adverse childhood experiences. It is feasible and acceptable to carry out mass screening for ACEs in the context of comprehensive medical evaluation. This identifies cases early and allows treatment of basic causes rather than vainly treating the symptom of the moment. We have screened over 450, 000 adult members of Kaiser Health Plan for these eight categories of adverse childhood experiences. Our initial screening is by an expanded Review of Systems questionnaire; patients certainly do not spontaneously volunteer this information. ‘Yes’ answers then are pursued with conventional history taking: “I see that you were molested as a child. Tell me how that has affected you later in your life.”

Such screening has demonstrable value. Before we screened for adverse childhood experiences, our standardized comprehensive medical evaluation led to a 12% reduction in medical visits during the subsequent year. Later, in a pilot study, an on site psychoanalyst conducted a one time interview of depressed patients; this produced a 50% reduction in the utilization of this subset during the subsequent year. However, the reduction occurred only in those depressed patients who were high utilizers of medical care because of somatization disorders.

Recently, we evaluated our current approach by a neural net analysis of the records of 135,000 patients who were screened for adverse childhood experiences as part of our redesigned comprehensive medical evaluation. This entire cohort showed an overall reduction of 35% in doctor office visits during the year subsequent to evaluation.

Our experience asking these questions indicates that the magnitude of the ACE problem is so great that primary prevention is ultimately the only realistic solution. Primary prevention requires the development of a beneficial and acceptable intrusion into the closed realm of personal and family experience. Techniques for accomplishing such change en masse are yet to be developed because each of us, fearing the new and unknown as a potential crisis in self esteem, often adjusts to the status quo. However, one possible approach to primary prevention lies in the mass media: the story lines of movies and television serials present a major therapeutic opportunity, unexploited thus far, for contrasting desirable and undesirable parenting skills in various life situations.

Because addiction is experience dependent and not substance dependent, and because compulsive use of only one substance is actually uncommon, one also might restructure treatment programs to deal with underlying causes rather than to focus on substance withdrawal. We have begun using this approach with benefit in our Obesity Program, and plan to do so with some of the more conventionally accepted addictions.

Conclusion

The current concept of addiction is ill founded. Our study of the relationship of adverse childhood experiences to adult health status in over 17,000 persons shows addiction to be a readily understandable, although largely unconscious, attempt to gain relief from well concealed prior life traumas by using psychoactive materials. Because it is difficult to get enough of something that doesn’t quite work, the attempt is ultimately unsuccessful, apart from its risks. What we have shown will not surprise most psychoanalysts, although the magnitude of our observations is new, and our conclusions are sometimes vigorously challenged by other disciplines.

The evidence supporting our conclusions about the basic cause of addiction is powerful and its implications are daunting. The prevalence of adverse childhood experiences and their long term effects are clearly a major determinant of the health and social well being of the nation. This is true whether looked at from the standpoint of social costs, the economics of health care, the quality of human existence, the focus of medical treatment, or the effects of public policy.

Adverse childhood experiences are difticult issues, made more so because they strike close to home for many of us. Taking them on will create an ordeal of change, but will also provide for many the opportunity to have a better life.


Adverse Childhood Experiences Study

Wikipedia

The Adverse Childhood Experiences Study (ACE Study) is a research study conducted by the American health maintenance organization Kaiser Permanente and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Participants were recruited to the study between 1995 and 1997 and have been in long-term follow up for health outcomes. The study has demonstrated an association of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) (aka childhood trauma) with health and social problems across the lifespan. The study is frequently cited as a notable landmark in epidemiological research, and has produced many scientific articles and conference and workshop presentations that examine ACEs.

Background

In the 1980s, the dropout rate of participants at Kaiser Permanente’s obesity clinic in San Diego, California, was about 50%; despite all of the dropouts successfully losing weight under the program. Vincent Felitti, head of Kaiser Permanente’s Department of Preventive Medicine in San Diego, conducted interviews with people who had left the program, and discovered that a majority of 286 people he interviewed had experienced childhood sexual abuse. The interview findings suggested to Felitti that weight gain might be a coping mechanism for depression, anxiety, and fear.

Felitti and Robert Anda from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) went on to survey childhood trauma experiences of over 17,000 Kaiser Permanente patient volunteers. The 17,337 participants were volunteers from approximately 26,000 consecutive Kaiser Permanente members. About half were female; 74.8% were white; the average age was 57; 75.2% had attended college; all had jobs and good health care, because they were members of the Kaiser health maintenance organization. Participants were asked about 10 types of childhood trauma that had been identified in earlier research literature:

– Physical abuse

– Sexual abuse

– Emotional abuse

– Physical or emotional neglect

– Exposure to domestic violence

– Household substance abuse

– Household mental illness

– Family member (attempted) suicide

– Parental separation or divorce

– Incarcerated household member

In one way or another, all ten questions speak to family dysfunction.

Findings

The ACE Pyramid represents the conceptual framework for the ACE Study, which has uncovered how adverse childhood experiences are strongly related to various risk factors for disease throughout the lifespan, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

According to the United States’ Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, the ACE study found that:

Adverse childhood experiences are common. For example, 28% of study participants reported physical abuse and 21% reported sexual abuse. Many also reported experiencing a divorce or parental separation, or having a parent with a mental and/or substance use disorder.

Adverse childhood experiences often occur together. Almost 40% of the original sample reported two or more ACEs and 12.5% experienced four or more. Because ACEs occur in clusters, many subsequent studies have examined the cumulative effects of ACEs rather than the individual effects of each.

Adverse childhood experiences have a dose response relationship with many health problems. As researchers followed participants over time, they discovered that a person’s cumulative ACEs score has a strong, graded relationship to numerous health, social, and behavioral problems throughout their lifespan, including substance use disorders. Furthermore, many problems related to ACEs tend to be comorbid, or co-occurring.

About two-thirds of individuals reported at least one adverse childhood experience; 87% of individuals who reported one ACE reported at least one additional ACE. The number of ACEs was strongly associated with adulthood high-risk health behaviors such as smoking, alcohol and drug abuse, promiscuity, and severe obesity, and correlated with ill-health including depression, heart disease, cancer, chronic lung disease and shortened lifespan.

Compared to an ACE score of zero, having four adverse childhood experiences was associated with a seven fold (700%) increase in alcoholism, a doubling of risk of being diagnosed with cancer, and a four-fold increase in emphysema; an ACE score above six was associated with a 30-fold (3000%) increase in attempted suicides.

The ACE study’s results suggest that maltreatment and household dysfunction in childhood contribute to health problems decades later. These include chronic diseases, such as heart disease, cancer, stroke, and diabetes, that are the most common causes of death and disability in the United States. The study’s findings, while relating to a specific population within the United States, might reasonably be assumed to reflect similar trends in other parts of the world, according to the World Health Organization. The study was initially published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine.

Subsequent surveys

The ACE Study has produced more than 50 articles that look at the prevalence and consequences of ACEs. It has been influential in several areas. Subsequent studies have confirmed the high frequency of adverse childhood experiences, or found even higher incidences in urban or youth populations.

The original study questions have been used to develop a 10-item screening questionnaire. Numerous subsequent surveys have confirmed that adverse childhood experiences are frequent.

The CDC runs the Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System (BRFSS), an annual survey conducted by individual state health departments in all 50 states. An expanded survey instrument in several states found each state to be similar. Some states have collected additional local data. Adverse childhood experiences were even more frequent in studies in urban Philadelphia, and in a survey of young mothers (mostly younger than 19). Internationally, an Adverse Childhood Experiences International Questionnaire (ACE-IQ) is undergoing validation testing. Surveys of adverse childhood experiences have been conducted in Romania, the Czech Republic, the Republic of Macedonia, Norway, the Philippines, the United Kingdom, Canada, China and Jordan.

Child Trends used data from the 2011/12 National Survey of Children’s Health (NSCH) to analyze ACEs prevalence in children nationally, and by state. The NSCH’s list of “adverse family experiences” includes a measure of economic hardship and shows that this is the most common ACE reported nationally.

Neurobiology of Stress

Cognitive and neuroscience researchers have examined possible mechanisms that might explain the negative consequences of adverse childhood experiences on adult health. Adverse childhood experiences can alter the structural development of neural networks and the biochemistry of neuroendocrine System and may have long term effects on the body, including speeding up the processes of disease and aging and compromising immune systems.

Allostatic load refers to the adaptive processes that maintain homeostasis during times of toxic stress through the production of mediators such as adrenalin, cortisol and other chemical messengers. According to researcher Bruce S McEwen, who coined the term:

“These mediators of the stress response promote adaptation in the aftermath of acute stress, but they also contribute to allostatic overload, the wear and tear on the body and brain that result from being ‘stressed out.‘ This conceptual framework has created a need to know how to improve the efficiency of the adaptive response to stressors while minimizing overactivity of the same systems, since such overactivity results in many of the common diseases of modern life. This framework has also helped to demystify the biology of stress by emphasizing the protective as well as the damaging effects of the body’s attempts to cope with the challenges known as stressors.”

Additionally, epigenetic transmission may occur due to stress during pregnancy or during interactions between mother and newborns. Maternal stress, depression, and exposure to partner violence have all been shown to have epigenetic effects on infants.

Implementing practices

As knowledge about the prevalence and consequences of adverse childhood experiences increases, trauma informed and resilience building practices based on the research is being implemented in communities, education, public health departments, social services, faith-based organizations and criminal justice. A few states are considering legislation.

Communities

As knowledge about the prevalence and consequences of ACEs increases, more communities seek to integrate trauma informed and resilience building practices into their agencies and systems. Tarpon Springs, Florida, became the first trauma informed community in 2011. Trauma informed initiatives in Tarpon Springs include trauma awareness training for the local housing authority, changes in programs for ex-offenders, and new approaches to educating students with learning difficulties.

Education

Children who are exposed to adverse childhood experiences may become overloaded with stress hormones, leaving them in a constant state of arousal and alertness to environmental and relational threats. Therefore, they may have difficulty focusing on school work, and consolidating new memory, making it harder for them to learn at school.

Approximately one in three or four children have experienced significant ACEs. A study by the Area Health Education Center of Washington State University found that students with at least three ACEs are three times as likely to experience academic failure, six times as likely to have behavioral problems, and five times as likely to have attendance problems. These students may have trouble trusting teachers and other adults, and may have difficulty creating and maintaining relationships.

The trauma informed school movement aims to train teachers and staff to help children self-regulate, and to help families that are having problems that result in children’s normal response to trauma, rather than simply jumping to punishment. It also seeks to provide behavioral consequences that will not retraumatize a child. Punishment is often ineffective, and better results can often be achieved with positive reinforcement. Out of school suspensions can be particularly bad for students with difficult home lives; forcing students to remain at home may increase their distrust of adults.

Trauma sensitive, or compassionate, schooling has become increasingly popular in Washington, Massachusetts, and California. Lincoln High School in Walla Walla, Washington, adapted a trauma informed approach to discipline and reduced its suspensions by 85%. Rather than standard punishment, students are taught to recognize their reaction to stress and learn to control it.

Spokane, Washington, schools conducted a research study that demonstrated that academic risk was correlated with students’ experiences of traumatic events known to their teachers. The same school district has begun a study to test the impact of trauma informed intervention programs, in an attempt to reduce the impact of toxic stress.

In Brockton, Massachusetts, a community wide meeting led to a trauma informed approach being adopted by the Brockton School District. So far, all of the district’s elementary schools have implemented trauma informed improvement plans, and there are plans to do the same in the middle school and high school. About one-fifth of the district teachers have participated in a course on teaching traumatized students. Police alert schools when they have arrested someone or visited at a student’s address.

Massachusetts state legislation has sought to require all schools to develop plans to create “safe and supportive schools”.

At El Dorado, an elementary school in San Francisco, California, trauma-informed practices were associated with a suspension reduction of 89%.

Social services

Social service providers, including welfare systems, housing authorities, homeless shelters, and domestic violence centers are adopting trauma informed approaches that help to prevent ACEs or minimize their impact. Utilizing tools that screen for trauma can help a social service worker direct their clients to interventions that meet their specific needs. Trauma informed practices can also help social service providers look at how trauma impacts the whole family.

Trauma informed approaches can improve child welfare services by 1) openly discussing trauma and 2) addressing parental trauma.

The New Hampshire Division for Children Youth and Families (DCYF) is taking a trauma informed approach to their foster care services by educating staff about childhood trauma, screening children entering foster care for trauma, using trauma informed language to mitigate further traumatization, mentoring birth parents and involving them in collaborative parenting, and training foster parents to be trauma informed.

In Albany, New York the HEARTS Initiative has led to local organizations developing trauma informed practice. Senior Hope Inc, an organization serving adults over the age of 50, began implementing the 10 question ACE survey and talking with their clients about childhood trauma. The LaSalle School, which serves orphaned and abandoned boys, began looking at delinquent boys from a trauma informed perspective and began administering the ACE questionnaire to their clients.

Housing authorities are also becoming trauma informed. Supportive housing can sometimes recreate control and power dynamics associated with clients’ early trauma. This can be reduced through trauma informed practices, such as training staff to be respectful of clients’ space by scheduling appointments and not letting themselves into clients’ private spaces, and also understanding that an aggressive response may be trauma related coping strategies.

The housing authority in Tarpon Springs provided trauma awareness training to staff so they could better understand and react to their clients’ stress and anger resulting from poor employment, health, and housing.

A survey of 200 homeless individuals in California and New York demonstrated that more than 50% had experienced at least four ACEs. In Petaluma, California, the Committee on the Shelterless (COTS) uses a trauma informed approach called Restorative Integral Support (RIS) to reduce intergenerational homelessness. RIS increases awareness of and knowledge about ACEs, and calls on staff to be compassionate and focus on the whole person. COTS now consider themselves ACE informed and focus on resiliency and recovery.

Health care services

Screening for or talking about ACEs with parents and children can help to foster healthy physical and psychological development and can help doctors understand the circumstances that children and their parents are facing. By screening for ACEs in children, pediatric doctors and nurses can better understand behavioral problems.

Some doctors have questioned whether some behaviors resulting in attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) diagnoses are in fact reactions to trauma. Children who have experienced four or more ACEs are three times as likely to take ADHD medication when compared with children with less than four ACEs.

Screening parents for their ACEs allows doctors to provide the appropriate support to parents who have experienced trauma, helping them to build resilience, foster attachment with their children, and prevent a family cycle of ACEs. Trauma informed pediatric care also allows doctors to develop a more trusting relationship with parents, opening the lines of communication.

At Monteflore Medical Center ACEs screenings will soon be implemented in 22 pediatric clinics. In a pilot program any child with one parent who has an ACE score of four or higher is offered enrollment and receive a variety of services. For families enrolled in the program parents report fewer ER visits and children have healthier emotional and social development, compared with those not enrolled.

Public health

Most American doctors as of 2015 do not use ACE surveys to assess patients. Objections to doing so include that there are no randomized controlled trials that show that such surveys can be used to actually improve health outcomes, there are no standard protocols for how to use the information gathered, and that revisiting negative childhood experiences could be emotionally traumatic. Other obstacles to adoption include that the technique is not taught in medical schools, is not billable, and the nature of the conversation makes some doctors personally uncomfortable.

Some public health centers see ACEs as an important way, especially for mothers and children, to target health interventions for individuals during sensitive periods of development early in their life, or even in utero.

For example, Jefferson Country Public Health clinic in Port Townsend, Washington, now screens pregnant women, their partners, parents of children with special needs, and parents involved with CPS for ACEs. With regard to patient counseling, the clinic treats ACEs like other health risks such as smoking or alcohol consumption.

Resiliency

Resilience is not a trait that people either have or do not have. It involves behaviors, thoughts and actions that can be learned and developed in anyone.

According to the American Psychological Association (2017) resilience is the ability to adapt in the face of adversity, tragedy, threats or significant stress such as family and relationship problems, serious health problems or workplace and financial stressors. Resilience refers to bouncing back from difficult experiences in life. There is nothing extraordinary about resilience. People often demonstrate resilience in times of adversity. However, being resilient does not mean that a person will not experience difficulty or distress as emotional pain is common for people when they suffer from a major adversity or trauma. In fact, the path to resilience often involves considerable emotional pain.

Resilience is labeled as a protective factor. Having resilience can benefit children who have been exposed to trauma and have a higher ACE score. Children who can learn to develop it, can use resilience to build themselves up after trauma. A child who has not developed resilience will have a harder time coping with the challenges that can come in adult life. People and children who are resilient, embrace the thinking that adverse experiences do not define who they are. They also can think about past events in their lives that were traumatic and, try to reframe them in a way that is constructive. They are able to find strength in their struggle and ultimately can overcome the challenges and adversity that was faced in childhood.

In childhood, resiliency can come from having a caring adult in a child’s life. Resiliency can also come from having meaningful moments such as an academic achievement or getting praise from teachers or mentors. In adulthood, resilience is the concept of self-care. If you are taking care of yourself and taking the necessary time to reflect and build on your experiences, then you will have a higher capacity for taking care of others.

Adults can also use this skill to counteract some of the trauma they have experienced. Self-care can mean a variety of things. One example of selfcare, is knowing when you are beginning to feel burned out and then taking a step back to rest and recuperate yourself. Another component of self-care is practicing mindfulness or engaging in some form of meditation. If you are able to take the time to reflect upon your experiences, then you will be able to build a greater level of resiliency moving forward.

All of these strategies put together can help to build resilience and counteract some of the childhood trauma that was experienced. With these strategies children can begin to heal after experiencing adverse childhood experiences. This aspect of resiliency is so important because it enables people to find hope in their traumatic past.

When first looking at the ACE study and the different correlations that come with having 4 or more traumas, it is easy to feel defeated. It is even possible for this information to encourage people to have unhealthy coping behaviors. Introducing resilience and the data that supports its positive outcome in regards to trauma, allows for a light at the end of a tunnel. It gives people the opportunity to be proactive instead of reactive when it comes to addressing the traumas in their past.

Criminal justice

Since research suggests that incarcerated individuals are much more likely to have been exposed to violence and suffer from posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a trauma informed approach may better help to address some of these criminogenic risk factors and can create a less traumatizing criminal justice experience. Programs, like Seeking Safety, are often used to help individuals in the criminal justice system learn how to better cope with trauma, PTSD, and substance abuse.

Juvenile courts better help deter children from crime and delinquency when they understand the trauma many of these children have experienced.

The criminal justice system itself can also retraumatize individuals. This can be prevented by creating safer facilities where correctional and police officers are properly trained to keep incidents from escalating. Partnerships between police and mental health providers can also reduce the possible traumatizing effects of police intervention and help provide families with the proper mental health and social services.

The Women’s Community Correctional Center of Hawaii began a Trauma Informed Care Initiative that aims to train all employees to be aware and sensitive to trauma, to screen all women in their facility for trauma, to assess those who have experienced trauma, and begin providing trauma informed mental health care to those women identified.

Faith based Organizations

Some faith based organizations offer spiritual services in response to traumas identified by ACE surveys. For example, the founder of ACE Overcomers combined the epidemiology of ACEs, the neurobiology of toxic stress and principles of the Christian Bible into a workbook and 12-week course used by clergy in several states.

Another example of this integration of faith based principles and ACEs science is the work of Intermountain Residential’s chaplain, who has created a curriculum called “Bruised Reeds and Smoldering Wicks” a six week study meant to introduce the science behind ACEs and early childhood trauma within the context of Christian theology and ministry practice. Published in 2017, it has been used by ministry professionals in 30 states, the District of Columbia, and two Canadian provinces.

Faith based organizations also participate in the online group ACES Connection Network.

The Faith and Health Connection Ministry also applies principles of Christian theology to address childhood traumas.

Legislation

Vermont has passed a bill, Act 43(H.508), an act relating to building resilience for individuals experiencing adverse childhood experiences which acknowledges the life span effects of ACEs on health outcomes, seeks wide use of ACE screening by health providers and aims to educate medical and health school students about ACEs.

“Vermont first state to propose bill to screen for ACEs in health care”, ACEs Connection, 18 March 2014

Previously Washington State passed legislation to set up a public-private partnership to further community development of trauma informed and resilience building practices that had begun in that state; but it was not adequately funded.

On August 18, 2014, California lawmakers unanimously passed ACR No. 155, which encourages policies reducing children’s exposure to adverse experiences.

Recent Massachusetts legislation supports a trauma informed school movement as part of The Reduction of Gun Violence bill (No. 4376). This bill aims to create “safe and supportive schools” through services and initiatives focused on physical, social, and emotional safety.

THE RESTLESS WAVE. Good Times, Just Causes, Great Fights and Other Appreciations – John McCain.

Tribute to a decent man, an honest man of honour. Even though he backed the Iraq disaster, and is a Republican.


Many an old geezer like me reaches his last years wishing he had lived more in the moment, had savored his days as they happened. Not me, friends. Not me. I have loved my life. All of it.

ACCUMULATED MEMORIES

TEARS WELLED IN MY EYES as I watched the old men march. It was a poignant sight, but not an unfamiliar one, and I was surprised at my reaction. l have attended Memorial Day and Veterans Day parades in dozens of American cities, watched aging combat veterans, heads high, shoulders back, summon memories of their service and pay homage to friends they had lost. I had always kept my composure.

It was the fiftieth anniversary of Japan’s surprise attack on Pearl Harbor and I had been invited to the official commemoration. The President of the United States, George H. W. Bush, was there and would give an emotional, memorable address at the USS Arizona memorial. I assumed that I, a first term senator, had been included with more important dignitaries because that famous ship was named for the state I represent. Or perhaps I had been invited because I’m a Navy veteran, the son and grandson of admirals, and this was a Navy show.

My best friend from the Naval Academy, Chuck Larson, acted as host and master of ceremonies for the proceedings at the Arizona. Chuck had a far more distinguished naval career than I had, continuing a divergence that had begun in our first year at the Academy, where he had graduated at the top of our class and I very near the bottom. We had gone through flight training together, and remained the closest of friends. Chuck had been an aviator, then a submariner and a military aide to President Richard Nixon. He had been a rear admiral at forty three, one of the youngest officers in Navy history to make that rank. He was the only person to serve as superintendent of the U.S. Naval Academy twice. On the fiftieth anniversary of Pearl Harbor, he had four stars and was commander in chief of all U.S. forces in the Pacific, CINCPAC, the largest operational command in the U.S. military, my father’s old command, headquartered in Hawaii.

The Arizona ceremony was the main event of the weekend. The President would also pay a visit to the battleship USS Missouri, as would I. She had come from operations in the Persian Gulf to join in the Remembrance Day tribute. It was her last mission before she would be decommissioned. The war that had begun for America in Pearl Harbor had ended on her deck. My grandfather had been there, standing in the first line of senior officers observing the surrender ceremony.

My father, a submarine skipper, was waiting in Tokyo Harbor to meet him for, as it turned outthe last time. They lunched together that afternoon in the wardroom of a submarine tender. When they parted that day my grandfather began his journey home to Coronado, California. He died of a heart attack the day after he arrived, during a welcome home party my grandmother had arranged for him. He was only sixty one years old, but looked decades older, aged beyond his years from “riotous living,” as he called it, and the strain of the war. My father, who admired his father above all other men, was inconsolable. Many years later he recalled in detail their final reunion and the last words his father spoke to him, “Son, there is no greater thing than to die for the country and principles that you believe in.”

The day before the ceremony on the Arizona I had joined a small group of more senior senators and combat veterans, among them Senate Republican leader Bob Dole and the senior senator from Hawaii, Dan Inouye. Bob had served in the Army’s 10th Mountain Division. A few weeks before the end of the war in Europe, in Italy’s Apennine Mountains, he was grievously wounded by a German machine gun while trying to rescue his fallen radio operator. His wounds cost him the use of his right arm, and much of the feeling in his left. Around the same time, Dan had led an assault on a German bunker in Tuscany. He was shot in the stomach and a grenade severed his right arm. He kept fighting, and would receive the Medal of Honor for his valor. Bob and Dan had been friends longer than either had been a senator. They had met while recuperating from their wounds in Percy Jones Army Hospital in Battle Creek, Michigan, along with another future senator, Phil Hart, who had been wounded on D-Day.

That day, we watched two thousand Pearl Harbor survivors march to honor their fallen. Most appeared to be in their seventies. Neither the informality of their attire nor the falling rain nor the cheers of the crowd along the parade route detracted from their dignified comportment. A few were unable to walk and rode in Army trucks. All of a sudden I felt overwhelmed. Maybe it was the effect of their straight faces and erect bearing evoking such a hard-won dignity; maybe it was the men riding in trucks managing to match the poise of the marchers; maybe it was the way they turned their heads toward us as they passed and the way Bob and Dan returned their attention. A little embarrassed by my reaction, I confessed to Dan, “I don’t know what comes over me these days. I guess I’m getting sentimental with age.” Without turning his gaze from the marchers, he answered me quietly, “Accumulated memories.”

That was it. Accumulated memories. I had reached an age when I had begun to feel the weight of them. Memories evoked by a connection to someone or to an occasion, by a familiar story or turn of phrase or song. Memories of intense experiences, of family and friends from younger days, of causes fought, some worth it, others not so much, some won, some lost, of adventures bigger than those imagined as a child, memories of a life that even then had seemed to me so lucky and unlikely, and of the abbreviated lives of friends who had been braver but not as fortunate, memories brought to mind by veterans of a war I had not fought in, but I knew something of what it had cost them, and what it had given them.

I had been a boy of five, playing in the front yard of my family’s home in New London, Connecticut, when a black sedan pulled up and a Navy officer rolled down the window and shouted to my father, “Jack, the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor.” The news and the sight of my father leaving in that sedan is one of my most powerful memories, the only memory of my father during the war I’ve managed to retain all these years. I know he didn’t go to sea immediately and I know we were briefly reunited with him when he was reassigned from a submarine command in the Atlantic to another in the Pacific theater. But I don’t recall seeing my father again after he got into that car until the war was over, and he had lost his father and many of his friends. He returned changed in the way most combat veterans are, more self-possessed and serious. I understood the journey the Pearl Harbor veterans had made.

That empathy stirred by my own memories had made me weep.

I feel the weight of memories even more now, of course. I’ve accumulated so many more of them. I was in my mid fifties in 1991. I’m eighty one now, twenty years older than my grandfather had been when he died, and more than ten years older than my father when we buried him, as it happened, on the day I left the Navy, a year before I was elected to my first term in Congress.

A quarter century’s worth of new memories, of new causes, won and lost, more fights, new friendships and a few new enemies, of more mistakes made and new lessons learned, of new experiences that enriched my life so far beyond my wildest dreams that I feel even luckier than I did in 1991.

Of course, the longer we live, the more we lose, too, and many people who figure prominently in my memories have left the scene. Friends from prison have passed away. Bob Craner, my closest confidant in prison, the man who got me back on my feet after the Vietnamese forced me to make a false confession and propaganda statement, died many years ago. Bill Lawrence, my exemplary senior ranking officer, died in 2005. Ned Shuman, whose good cheer was a tonic in the worst of times, is gone now, too. And Bud Day, the toughest man I ever knew, veteran of three wars, who wouldn’t let me die in those hard first months of my captivity, left us four years ago.

Close Senate friends have passed as well, including brave Dan Inouye. My pal Fred Thompson, whose company was a delight, died two years ago. Lion of the Senate Ted Kennedy, with whom I worked and fought and joked in some of the more memorable moments of my time in the Senate, succumbed in 2009 to the cancer that I now have. Ted and I shared the conviction that a fight not joined is a fight not enjoyed. We had some fierce ones in our time, fierce, worthwhile, and fun. I loved every minute of them.

Other friends have left, too. I’m tempted to say, before their time, but that isn’t the truth. What God and good luck provide we must accept with gratitude. Our time is our time. It’s up to us to make the most of it, make it amount to more than the sum of our days. God knows, my dear friend Chuck Larson, whom I had looked up to since we were boys, made the most of his. Leukemia killed him in 2014. He was laid to rest in the Naval Academy’s cemetery on Hospital Point, a beautiful spot overlooking the Severn River, near where our paths first crossed.

I’ve been given more years than many, and had enough narrow escapes along the way to make me appreciate them, not just in memory, but while I lived them. Many an old geezer like me reaches his last years wishing he had lived more in the moment, had savored his days as they happened. Not me, friends. Not me. I have loved my life. All of it. I’ve wasted more than a few days on pursuits that might not have proved as important as they seemed to me at the time. Some things didn’t work out the way I hoped they would. I had difficult moments and a few disappointments. But, by God, I enjoyed it. Every damn day of it. I have lived with a will. I served a purpose greater than my own pleasure or advantage, but I meant to enjoy the experience, and I did. I meant to be amazed and excited and encouraged and useful, and I was.

All that is attributable to one thing more than any other. I have been restless all my life, even now, as time grows precious. America and the voters of Arizona have let me exercise my restlessness in their service. I had the great good fortune to spend sixty years in the employ of our country, defending our country’s security, advancing our country’s ideals, supporting our country’s indispensable contributions to the progress of humanity. It has not been perfect service, to be sure, and there were times when the country might have benefited from a little less of my help. But I’ve tried to deserve the privilege, and I have been repaid a thousand times over with adventure and discoveries, with good company, and with the satisfaction of serving something more important than myself, of being a bit player in the story of America, and the history we made. And I am so very grateful.

I share that sentiment with another naval aviator, the good man and patriot we elected our forty-first President, George Herbert Walker Bush. He paid tribute twenty-six years ago to those fellow patriots whose service to America was not repaid with a long life of achievement and adventure.

We had assembled at the Arizona memorial around seven o’clock the morning of December 7, 1991. President and Mrs. Bush and their party arrived shortly after. Chuck opened the proceedings and introduced a Navy chaplain to give an invocation. At 7:55, fifty years to the minute since the attack on Pearl Harbor had commenced, the cruiser USS Chosin crossed in front of the memorial and sounded its horn as its officers and crew standing along its rails saluted. The minute of silence we observed ended when four F-15 fighters roared overhead, and one pulled up and away in the missing man formation. A bugler sounded attention at eight o’clock, the colors were raised, and the national anthem sung. President and Mrs. Bush dropped flower wreaths into the well of the memorial.

Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney introduced retired USN Captain Donald Ross, who had been a warrant officer on the USS Nevada, one of eight battleships stationed at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked. He was the senior engineer on the ship and managed to get her under way in the firestorm, the only one of the battleships to do so. The Nevada was struck by six bombs and a torpedo. Ross lost consciousness twice from the smoke and was twice resuscitated. He was blinded by an explosion, but he kept the ship steaming long enough to run her aground where she wouldn’t block the entrance to the harbor. He received the Medal of Honor for his valor. He was eighty-one years old in 1991, slight and stooped in his Navy whites, and walked with a cane. He would die the next spring. But he was exuberant that morning and emotional as he introduced his fellow World War II veteran, almost shouting, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the President of the United States.”

The President read from a printed text. He would give another, longer speech later that day about America’s leadership of the postwar world, and the international order we had superintended for nearly fifty years. But his speech at the memorial was devoted to the Americans who had fought and perished there at the dawn of the American century. “The heroes of the harbor,” he called them.

As he closed the speech, his voice grew thick with emotion. I think he must have felt not only the sacrifices made at Pearl Harbor, but the weight of his own memories, the memories of friends he had lost in the war, when he was the youngest aviator in the Navy.

“Look at the water here, clear and quiet,” he directed, “bidding us to sum up and remember. One day, in what now seems another lifetime, it wrapped its arms around the finest sons any nation could ever have, and it carried them to a better world.” He paused and fussed with the pages of his speech, struggling to compose himself before delivering the last line of the speech. “May God bless them, and may God bless America, the most wondrous land on earth.”

The most wondrous land on earth, indeed. What a privilege it is to serve this big, boisterous, brawling, intemperate, striving, daring, beautiful, bountiful, brave, magnificent country. With all our flaws, all our mistakes, with all the frailties of human nature as much on display as our virtues, with all the rancor and anger of our politics, we are blessed. We are living in the land of the free, the land where anything is possible, the land of the immigrant’s dream, the land with the storied past forgotten in the rush to the imagined future, the land that repairs and reinvents itself, the land where a person can escape the consequences of a self-centered youth and know the satisfaction of sacrificing for an ideal, where you can go from aimless rebellion to a noble cause, and from the bottom of your class to your party’s nomination for President.

We are blessed, and in turn, we have been a blessing to humanity. The world order we helped build from the ashes of world war, and that we defend to this day, has liberated more people from tyranny and poverty than ever before in history. This wondrous land shared its treasures and ideals and shed its blood to help make another, better world. And as we did we made our own civilization more just, freer, more accomplished and prosperous than the America that existed when I watched my father go off to war.

We have made mistakes. We haven’t always used our power wisely. We have abused it sometimes and we’ve been arrogant. But, as often as not, we recognized those wrongs, debated them openly, and tried to do better. And the good we have done for humanity surpasses the damage caused by our errors. We have sought to make the world more stable and secure, not just our own society. We have advanced norms and rules of international relations that have benefited all. We have stood up to tyrants for mistreating their people even when they didn’t threaten us, not always, but often. We don’t steal other people’s wealth. We don’t take their land. We don’t build walls to freedom and opportunity. We tear them down.

To fear the world we have organized and led for three-quarters of a century, to abandon the ideals we have advanced around the globe, to refuse the obligations of international leadership for the sake of some half-baked, spurious nationalism cooked up by people who would rather find scapegoats than solve problems is unpatriotic. American nationalism isn’t the same as in other countries. It isn’t nativist or imperial or xenophobic, or it shouldn’t be. Those attachments belong with other tired dogmas that Americans consigned to the ash heap of history.

We live in a land made from ideals, not blood and soil. We are custodians of those ideals at home, and their champion abroad. We have done great good in the world because we believed our ideals are the natural aspiration of all mankind, and that the principles, rules, and alliances of the international order we superintended would improve the security and prosperity of all who joined with us. That leadership has had its costs, but we have become incomparably powerful and wealthy as well. We have a moral obligation to continue in our just cause, and we would bring more than shame on ourselves if we let other powers assume our leadership role, powers that reject our values and resent our influence. We will not thrive in a world where our leadership and ideals are absent. We wouldn’t deserve to.

I have served that cause all my adult life. I haven’t always served it well. I haven’t even always appreciated that I was serving it. But among the few compensations of old age is the acuity of hindsight. I was part of something bigger than myself that drew me along in its wake even when I was diverted by personal interests. I was, knowingly or not, along for the ride as America made the future better than the past. Yes, l have enjoyed it, all of it, and I would love for it to continue. A fight not joined is a fight not enjoyed, and I wouldn’t mind another scrap or two for a good cause before I’m a memory. Who knows, maybe I’ll get another round. And maybe I won’t. So be it. I’ve lived in this wondrous land for most of eight decades, and I’ve had enough good fights and good company in her service to satisfy even my restless nature, a few of which I relate in the pages that follow.

Who am I to complain? I’m the luckiest man on earth.

John McCain, Cornville, Arizona

CHAPTER ONE

NO Surrender

ON AN ORDINARY NOVEMBER MORNING in Phoenix, sunny and warm, Cindy and I walked the two blocks from our building to the nearest Starbucks. We stood in line with other early risers, and made our purchases. We walked back to our condo, coffees in hand, and got ready to drive to our place in Northern Arizona, where we go to rest and relax in good times and bad. Friends would join us there for a few days, and our conversations would inevitably return now and again to the intense experience we had just shared. But whenever it looked like we were about to dwell at length on that subject, I would steer the conversation in another direction, toward the future. And that morning in Phoenix, we were left entirely to ourselves, just another couple in need of their morning coffee, which made for a welcome change.

The night before, I had conceded the election to the man who had defeated me and would be our forty-fourth President, Barack Obama. After I had left the stage, Mark Hughes, the agent in charge of my Secret Service detail, started to brief me on the schedule and security procedures for the trip north. The Secret Service customarily continues to protect defeated presidential candidates for a little while after the election. I suppose they worry some fool might think the losing candidate deserved a more severe sanction than disappointment. I thought it unlikely, and while I regretted losing the election, I did not expect to regret recovering autonomy over decisions about where I would go and when and with whom. Wherever the hell I wanted, I thought to myself, and the notion brightened a day that might otherwise have been spent contemplating “if only.”

If only we had done this. If only we hadn’t done that. I intended to leave those questions to reporters and academics. They were unproductive. I still had a job, a job I enjoyed and looked forward to resuming. And, as I said, I looked forward to resuming the routine habits of a man without a security detail: opening doors, driving my car, walking to a coffee shop. Being at liberty. Having spent more than five years of my life in prison, I tend to appreciate even the more mundane exercises of my freedom more than others might.

Mark Hughes had done a fine job supervising my protection, as had Billy Callahan, the agent in charge of my other Secret Service detail, which alternated weeks with Mark’s crew. All the agents protecting Cindy and me, and my running mate, Sarah Palin, and her family, had been consummate professionals and had at my repeated requests exercised as much restraint as circumstances and good sense allowed. I was appreciative and grateful. But that didn’t stop me from taking a little pleasure in interrupting Mark’s briefing.

“Mark, my friend, you guys have been great, and I appreciate all your concern and hard work. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. But tomorrow, I want all of you to go home to your families like I’m going home to mine. I’d appreciate a ride home tonight. Then we’ll say goodbye, and we probably won’t see each other again.”

Mark was accustomed to my chafing at restrictions imposed on my independence, and did not argue. He smiled, and said, “Yes, sir.” I liked him all the more for it. We said goodbye that night. And the next morning, Cindy and I walked to Starbucks without any more protection than a little sunscreen. An hour or so after that, I was happily driving north on Interstate 17, a free man at last.

It had been an exhilarating and exhausting two years. And though almost every defeated candidate insists the experience was wonderful and satisfying, I imagine I was only slightly less pleased that it was over than was President-elect Obama. Don’t get me wrong, I fought as hard as I could to win, and I really don’t enjoy losing. We had triumphant moments, and deeply touching experiences in the campaign. We had disappointing experiences as well, and days that were blurred by adrenaline fueled activity and stress. It was like drinking from a firehose all day, every day, especially in the months between the party conventions and Election Day. But it had been for the most part a wonderful experience.

While some might find it odd, the part I had enjoyed the most were the days when l was again an underdog for the Republican nomination. I’m not sure why, but my enjoyment of a fight of any kind is inversely proportional to the odds of winning it. And in July of 2007 the odds that I would win the Republican nomination for President were starting to look pretty long.

I had formally announced my candidacy in April, but the campaign had been under way for months before then. I had started out as the presumed front-runner for the nomination, and my friend Hillary Clinton, whom I had gotten to know and like while serving with her on the Armed Services Committee, was the front-runner for the Democratic nomination. Her status would last a bit longer than mine. We had built a front-runner’s campaign with a large and experienced staff and a big budget. Much too big, it turned out. We were spending a lot more than we were raising. I’m not the most prodigious fund-raiser, to be sure. I don’t mind asking people for money, but I don’t really enjoy it, either, and I certainly wasn’t as good at it as was my principal rival for the nomination, Governor Mitt Romney. I suppose it didn’t help matters with many donors that I was the leading Republican proponent of limiting campaign donations or that I was inextricably tied to the deeply unpopular surge in Iraq. My support for comprehensive immigration reform was proving to be a liability as well, although majorities of Americans then and now support its provisions. I had sponsored an immigration bill that year with Ted Kennedy. The bill was as unpopular with some conservatives as Ted was. Some of the other candidates, particularly Mitt, were already making an issue of it, and it was starting to generate grassroots opposition to my candidacy.

Whatever the reasons for my failure to outraise the competition, our spending should have been more in line with our financing. We shouldn’t have assembled an operation with as big a payroll and expenses as we had until my front-runner status was earned by winning primaries. In the spring and early summer of 2007 it was based on not much more than the fact that I had been the runner-up for the nomination in 2000, and was at the moment better known nationally than Governor Romney.

I was, to put it mildly, unhappy with my situation and considering what to do about it when I left for an overseas trip in early July. The whole thing just didn’t feel right to me. I felt as if I was running someone else’s campaign or pretending my campaign was something it wasn’t or shouldn’t have been. I had enjoyed my experiences as the underdog in the 2000 Republican nomination race partly because hardly anyone expected me to win and I felt as if I had nothing to lose. Then we caught fire in the fall of 1999, won the New Hampshire primary in a landslide, and had a rocket ride for a couple months, losing South Carolina, winning Michigan, before crashing in the Super Tuesday primaries. I left the race having outperformed expectations, possessing a much bigger national reputation, increased influence in the Senate, and an abundance of truly wonderful memories. Not bad for a defeat.

Before I made the decision to run again, I had nagging doubts that I mentioned frequently to aides that we weren’t likely to bottle lightning twice. Compounding my concern over spending and the direction of the campaign in 2007 were my concerns about the surge in Iraq, which preoccupied me more than the campaign did. There had not been many advocates in Congress, even among Republicans, for President George W. Bush’s decision to surge troops to Iraq to run a counterinsurgency under the command of General David Petraeus.

The war had been almost lost in 2006. A Sunni insurgency had grown much stronger as it claimed more territory, and more Iraqis and foreign fighters were joining its ranks. Shia militias were working with Iran to terrorize Sunnis and, when the spirit moved them, to kill Americans. They operated practically unfettered in some neighborhoods. We were obviously losing ground and were at risk of losing the war. That reality wasn’t altered by repeated assurances from senior commanders in Baghdad and from Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld that the American effort in Iraq was meeting all its targets (principally, the number of Iraqi troops trained, which proved as useless as a measure of success as body counts had in Vietnam). And a majority of the American people, which grew larger by the day, wanted us to get out.

I had been advocating for a counterinsurgency campaign in Iraq since August 2003. I had lost all confidence in Secretary Rumsfeld’s willingness to change what clearly wasn’t working, and I said so. To my and many others’ relief, President Bush asked for his resignation in November 2006. Knowing the President was actively considering the idea, I had urged for months that we surge thousands more troops to Iraq. I knew it was a decision that some officials in his administration opposed, that Democrats and more than a few Republicans would strongly criticize, and that most of the American people would not agree with. They had already punished Republicans for Iraq in the 2006 midterm election. They would likely want to rebuke us again in 2008, and that probability would loom larger as casualties spiked in the first months of the surge.

President Bush knew all this as well or better than I did. Good man that he is, I knew he was deeply pained by the loss of Americans he had sent to Iraq. He knew that if he decided to order the surge the situation would get worse and more Americans would die before it got better. He knew there was no guarantee it would succeed.

We had gone into Iraq based on faulty intelligence about weapons of mass destruction, and destroyed the odious Saddam Hussein regime. Bad tactics, a flawed strategy, and bad leadership in the highest ranks of uniformed and civilian defense leadership had allowed violent forces unleashed by Saddam’s destruction to turn Iraq into hell on earth, and threaten the stability of the Middle East. The situation was dire, and the price that we had already paid in blood and treasure was clear. But we had a lot at stake and we had a responsibility to attempt one last, extremely difficult effort to turn it around, to test whether a genuine counterinsurgency could avert defeat. The President chose to do the right thing, and the hardest. I imagine it was a lonely, painful experience for him, and I admired his resolve. I admired also his choice to lead the effort, General David Petraeus.

I believed that we should have responded to the insurgency at its inception, and I was increasingly convinced with every month that followed that only a full-fledged counterinsurgency, with all the force it required, had any chance for winning the war. But I didn’t know in late 2006 whether or not the situation was too far gone to salvage. Advisors whose counsel I trusted believed it still could be won. General Petraeus believed it could be. But none of us felt as confident about the outcome as we would have liked, and we knew most Americans believed we were wrong.

Five additional Army brigades were deployed to lraq, and Marine and Army units already in country had their tours extended, providing just enough force to support a counterinsurgency. The numbers of Americans killed or wounded in the first months of 2007 increased substantially, as additional forces arrived and fought to take back territory from Sunni insurgents and Shia militias. For the first time in the war on a large scale, they held the ground they took and provided security for the affected populations. The spike in casualties was expected, but it was hard not to worry you were needlessly sending young kids to their death in a war that had been a mistake. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the best thing now was to cut our losses. But I believed our defeat would be catastrophic for the Middle East and our security interests there as terrorists and Tehran gained power and prestige at our expense. And I was worried about the humanitairian implications of our withdrawal, fearing that the raging sectarian war might descend into genocide. Of course, if the surge failed, there would be nothing we could realistically do to prevent that defeat or prevent history and our own consciences from damning us for having made this last, costly effort.

So, as I considered what to do about my campaign, I did so recognizing that I would be spending more time and energy focusing on the issue that was likely to cost me votes. Nowhere was that likelier to be the case than in my favorite state after Arizona, New Hampshire, scene of my 2000 landslide win. In the 2006 election, Democrats had swept almost every state and federal contest in New Hampshire, a Republican wipeout blamed on voters’ deep dissatisfaction with the war. There was no credible scenario in which I could win the nomination without winning the New Hampshire primary, as I had in 2000. And even Granite State voters who had supported me seven years before and who still liked me were not pleased with my support for the war. It was increasingly apparent that many of them would express their displeasure by voting for a candidate other than me.

Anxious about the surge, upset with the state of my campaign, increasingly aware of the extent of the challenge before me, I was in a bad frame of mind that summer. My uncertainty about what to do only aggravated my condition. There have been very few times in my life when I have felt I might be in a predicament that I could not eventually escape. But I had serious doubts that I could win an election and maintain my position on Iraq. In fact, I was beginning to ask myself if I should even be trying. And that was my attitude as I departed with my friend Senator Lindsey Graham for a long-scheduled trip to Iraq, leaving decisions about how to repair my campaign or even whether to continue it for my return.

On the flight over I confided to Lindsey my unhappiness with the campaign, and we discussed what I ought to do about it. I told him I was leaning toward getting out of the race. I wasn’t sure I could win. I wasn’t sure I wanted it badly enough to do what I had to do to win. We were broke. Unlike our merry little band of insurgents in 2000, factions had formed in the campaign, and they were sniping at each other in the press. Old friendships were becoming rivalries. It was an increasingly joyless experience, and I had begun to worry that it would ultimately prove pointless. Lindsey thought it was salvageable, that we could downsize, and fight more like a challenger than a front-runner. If nothing else, that would feel more natural to me. But I was skeptical. I would need to raise a lot more money to run any kind of serious campaign, and that would get harder, not easier, as donors saw us cutting payroll, shedding talented staff, and closing state offices six months before the lowa caucuses. We were about to become in the eyes of the press and donors the first casualty of the 2008 Republican nomination race.

The worst violence had started to subside by the time of our July visit to Baghdad, which strengthened our faith that the surge could succeed. Casualties had peaked in May. The number of killed and wounded declined every month thereafter. General Petraeus and Ambassador Ryan Crocker and their staffs briefed us on the military and political gains that had been made since our last visit. We could see for ourselves that things were improving. There were visible signs of progress almost everywhere in Baghdad. Dangerous neighborhoods had been quieted, commercial activity was resuming. There wasn’t enough progress to convince you that victory was assured. Far from it. But it was enough to think that maybe, to quote Churchill, we were at the end of the beginning. I was more hopeful that the decision I had long advocated would not end up sacrificing the lives ransomed to it in a failed effort to rescue an already lost cause.

The experience that made the biggest impression on me was a ceremonial one. General Petraeus had asked us to participate in an Independence Day event at Saddam’s al-Faw Palace at Camp Victory that included the reenlistment of over 600 soldiers and the naturalization of 161 soldiers, mostly Hispanic immigrants, who had risked life and limb for the United States while they waited to become citizens. Some of these soldiers, the reenlisted and the newly naturalized, were on their second and third combat tours. Some of them had just had their current tour extended. Most were kids, of course, and some of them had spent two or three years of their short lives living with fear and fatigue, cruelty and confusion, and all the other dehumanizing effects of war. They had seen friends killed and wounded. Some had been wounded themselves. They had seen firsthand the failed strategy that had allowed the insurgency to gain strength, and had risked their lives to reinforce what they knew was a mistake. They had retaken the same real estate over and over again. They had conducted raids night after night looking for insurgents and caches of arms. They had been shot at by snipers and blasted by IEDs, and buried friends who hadn’t survived the encounters, while month after month the situation got worse. And here they were, re-upping again, choosing to stay in harm’s way. Most of them, it appeared, were excited to be finally doing something that made sense, taking and holding ground, protecting and earning the trust of the locals. Lindsey and I spoke at the ceremony. We were awed by them. It was hard to keep our composure while witnessing that kind of courage and selfless devotion to duty. And it was all the harder after General Petraeus recognized the sacrifice made by two soldiers who had planned to become naturalized citizens at the ceremony, and were now represented by two pairs of boots on two chairs, having been killed in action two days before. “They died serving a country that was not yet theirs,” Petraeus observed.

I wasn’t the only person there with a lump in his throat and eyes brimming with tears. I wish every American who out of ignorance or worse curses immigrants as criminals or a drain on the country’s resources or a threat to our “culture” could have been there. I would like them to know that immigrants, many of them having entered the country illegally, are making sacrifices for Americans that many Americans would not make for them.

The ceremony was one of the most inspirational displays of genuine loyalty to country and comrades I’d ever witnessed, and I’ll never forget it. On our return flight, Lindsey and I again discussed my political predicament and what to do about it. But I had decided before we boarded the flight that whatever I was risking by remaining a candidate, which wasn’t much more than embarrassment, it was nothing compared to what those kids were risking and the cause they were fighting for. I decided to stay in the race.

We had to downsize substantially. Many staffers left of their own accord and others involuntarily. We closed our operations in a number of states.

We borrowed money to keep the thing going. We developed a “living off the land” strategy that relied on debates and other free media opportunities to get out our message. We couldn’t afford to pay to advertise. And we had to adjust our expectations accordingly. I wasn’t able to run campaign operations with paid staff in as many primaries and caucuses as we had planned. We were going to have to downplay our involvement in the Iowa caucuses, as we had eight years before, and bet it all on New Hampshire again. We would be active in the states that immediately followed New Hampshire, Michigan, which was Governor Romney’s native state, and South Carolina. We knew we would have to win at least one of those to have a decent shot at winning the Florida primary. Whoever won Florida would have the most momentum going into Super Tuesday, when twenty-one states would hold primaries or caucuses. But for all practical purposes it was New Hampshire or bust for us again. There wasn’t a way to win without it.

I made one other commitment. I wouldn’t just stand by my position on the surge, I would make it the centerpiece of our campaign, arguing for its necessity and predicting its success if sustained, a message that many New Hampshire voters did not welcome. I couldn’t win the nomination without winning New Hampshire. I probably couldn’t win New Hampshire if I continued to support the surge. But I was going to make defending the surge my principal message in New Hampshire. An underdog again.

My very first campaign stop after returning from Iraq was in Concord, New Hampshire, where I was scheduled to deliver a speech on Iraq. Before we left, I planned to speak in the Senate about the progress Lindsey and I had witnessed and the necessity of sustaining the surge beyond its difficult first months. Before the speech, in difficult conversations with senior staff, I ordered the downsizing that necessitated staff departures, provoked bitter feelings between former colleagues and angry recriminations in the press, and spawned hours of political prognostication that our campaign was for all practical purposes “a corpse” as my days as a front-runner came to an abrupt and messy end.

I didn’t have an elaborate response to the situation. Rick Davis, my campaign manager, was working on a plan to run a smaller campaign, and find the money for it. I decided the best thing I could do was to put my head down and plod through the next few weeks. I’d like to say I ignored the skepticism and mockery directed my way. But I heard it and read it and felt it. I didn’t like it but I didn’t let it intimidate me. I intended to go to New Hampshire and make my case to people I had a pretty good rapport with even if they were no longer supporting me. If they didn’t buy it, so be it. I wouldn’t be President. I don’t want this to sound flip because it’s not as if I didn’t want to win. I did. I’m a very competitive person. But I just decided that if I was likely to lose and was going to run anyway, I shouldn’t be afraid of losing. I had something to say. I thought it was important that I say it. And I would see the damn thing through.

On a Friday morning in July, I boarded a flight to New Hampshire at Reagan National Airport with my youngest son, Jimmy, a Marine, who was about to deploy on his first combat tour, and my administrative assistant and co-writer, Mark Salter. No other staff accompanied me. Flights to Manchester, New Hampshire, in primary season are usually crowded with Washington reporters. Press accounts quickly proliferated that I had been spotted in much reduced circumstances carrying my own bag to the gate. I had carried my own bag before then. I almost always carried it, as a matter of fact (although it was another thing I was accustomed to doing for myself that the Secret Service would eventually relieve me of). I didn’t care that reporters remarked on it. The image gave them a handy metaphor for our humbled campaign. I kind of liked it.

When we arrived at the venue in Concord, which if I remember correctly was hosted by the local Chamber of Commerce, the room was congested with reporters, including some of the most well known and respected in the country. I knew most of them, and I liked many of them. A half dozen TV cameras were there to record the moment. Although we had announced I would be making remarks about the situation in Iraq, reporters, seeing what they thought was the chaos and confusion that beset a campaign in its death throes, suspected or hoped that I would withdraw from the race then and there. They were like crows on a wire, watching the unfortunate roadkill breathe its last before they descended to scavenge the remains.

I made my speech. It wasn’t a memorable one, I’m afraid. But it did not include an announcement that l was ending my campaign. Professionals that they are, none of the reporters present betrayed their disappointment that they had been denied their deathbed scene. Most of them believed I was a ghost candidate, who would sooner or later realize that he was not part of this world any longer. For my part, I would stick to my scheduled appearances for the time being while we sorted through tough decisions we would have to make about strategy, staffing, and financing. The next morning, I held a town hall meeting at the American Legion post in Claremont. Most of the questions were about Iraq. Many of them were skeptical, and a few hostile.

On a summer night a month later, I was halfway through a town hall meeting in Wolfeboro, and had answered the usual questions about the war, federal spending, immigration, climate change, veterans care, questions I got at every event. Nothing out of the ordinary had yet occurred when a middle aged woman stood and gestured to the staffer holding the microphone. When he handed it to her she started speaking in a quiet voice. When you’ve done as many town halls as I have, you can tell in an instant the people who are used to questioning candidates and those who are uncomfortable with public attention. Lynne Savage, a special education assistant in the local school system, and a mother, was the latter. I sensed as I called on her that she had something to say that would affect me. I thought it might be a criticism. She was standing just a few feet from me. Shy but purposeful, she prefaced her question by recalling that during the Vietnam War she had “proudly worn a silver bracelet on her arm in support of a soldier who was fighting.” Then she got to her point. “Today, unfortunately I wear a black bracelet in memory of my son who lost his life in Baghdad.”

My first thought in the instant she uttered her statement was that she would hold me responsible for her loss, and she would be right to do so. By my vote in support of the war and my support for the surge, I assumed a share of that responsibility, and a Gold Star mother was well within her rights to resent me for it. But she didn’t speak of resentment or accountability. She didn’t ask any questions about the war. She had only come to ask me if I would wear his bracelet, “so you could remember your mission and their mission in support of them.” The room was completely still. My emotions began to swell and I worried I would lose my composure. I managed to get out “I would be honored and grateful” before giving her a hug. “Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain,” she instructed me. I took the bracelet from her and read the name inscribed on it, Matthew Stanley. I asked how old Matthew had been. “Twenty-two,” she replied. “Twenty-two,” I repeated. My voice cracked a little as I thanked her for his service. All I could find the wit and will to say after that was, “Yes, ma’am, I will wear this. Thank you.”

Specialist Matthew Stanley was two months into his second tour in Iraq in December 2006 when an IED destroyed the Humvee he was in, killing him and four other soldiers. He was ten days shy of his twenty-third birthday and was still a newlywed, having married Amy the previous New Year’s Eve. I wore Matthew Stanley’s bracelet every day of the campaign, and I’ve worn it every day since. I’ll wear it for the rest of my life.

“Why not make a virtue of necessity?” Steve Schmidt, who was acting as a volunteer strategist for us, had proposed a few days before the Wolfeboro town hall. His pitch went something like this: You’re broke. You’re down in the polls. You’re not drawing crowds. The press has moved on. Why not get some of your POW buddies and other friends to travel with you while you hold small events all over New Hampshire, and make the case for the surge. Go to VFW and American Legion halls, to people’s backyards if you have to, and tell them you’re not quitting on the men and women we sent to fight for us in Iraq, even if it costs you the election. Voters like seeing politicians stick to their guns, especially if it looks like it’s going to cost them the election. Call it the “No Surrender Tour.”

It made sense to me. We began that September and traveled in vans and cars at first. Buses were expensive. Some of the earliest events were held in people’s homes, which weren’t exactly bursting with crowds of cheering people. I traveled with old pals from prison, Bud Day, Orson Swindle, and others, as well as my dearest friends in the Senate, Lindsey Graham and Joe Lieberman. I got to say what I wanted to say, what I believed was important to say and true, ending every speech with what, depending on your point of view, was either a boast or a prediction: “I’d rather lose an election than see my country lose a war.”

Being an underdog with low expectations can be liberating and fun. The humor gets a little dark, but that’s often the most fortifying kind. I have a quote I jokingly attribute to Chairman Mao that I like to use in tough situations: “It’s always darkest before it’s completely black.” I remember Lindsey and I were excited when we arrived at a VFW hall one Friday night and found the place packed with people. “We must be catching on,” we congratulated ourselves, only to learn that it was fried fish night, an event so popular with the locals they were willing to put up with the annoyance of politicians interrupting their supper. We eventually got a bus, wrapped it in our new motto, “No Surrender,” and rolled along the highways of the Granite State, stumping for the surge and my struggling candidacy wherever we could find people to listen.

It worked. We slowly started to revive. The crowds grew modestly, my poll numbers improved slightly, and the press started paying a little more attention. I doubt reporters thought I was a serious contender for the nomination again, but they believed I might fight until the New Hampshire primary. I think most of them appreciated that I was a proven campaigner in New Hampshire. I also think most of them expected Governor Romney to win the expensive, labor intensive Iowa caucuses, and probably have enough momentum coming out of Iowa to beat me in New Hampshire, where he had a vacation home and was well known and liked.

A defeat in New Hampshire would surely force my exit from the race. We had to hit a triple bank shot to stay viable. I had to place respectably in Iowa without being seen to have made a major investment of time and money there. One of the other candidates had to win or come awfully close to winning Iowa so the press would declare Governor Romney had underperformed expectations. Then I had to win New Hampshire on the strength of a good grassroots organization, nostalgia for my 2000 campaign by independents who can vote in New Hampshire party primaries, respect for my open style of campaigning, taking all questions and abuse, and my willingness to tell people what they didn’t want to hear and still ask for their vote.

I like and respect Mitt Romney. I think he would have made a very good President. I liked him before we ran against each other and I liked him after we were finished running against each other. In between, I and my more demonstrative staffers worked up a little situational antipathy for the governor and his campaign. That’s natural, of course. Presidential campaigns are exhausting, stressful experiences, run on coffee, adrenaline, and fear, and when you need a little extra boost, resentment of your opponent can be a handy motivator. Mitt is an intelligent, accomplished, decent, convivial man, who is really good at raising money and looks like a movie star. Deep into the endless series of primary debates, I and the other candidates were looking a little worse for wear. Mitt always arrived looking as if he had just returned from a two week vacation at the beach, tanned, smiling, and utterly self-possessed. If you’re not constantly reminding yourself to behave like an adult, you might start getting a little pissed off at your opponent’s many fine attributes. That kind of childishness usually ends when the contest is over as it did with our campaigns. But when the game is on between very competitive people, something akin to trash talking to the press can happen, as was the case with us. Nothing below the belt, really, from either side, just jabs here and there, enough to make you want to, well, beat the other guy.

We had worked hard. We had a strategy we could afford. And we got lucky. Iowa worked out about as well as it could have under the circumstances. A late surging Governor Mike Huckabee, who had extensive support in Iowa’s evangelical community, the most influential and well represented bloc of Republican caucus voters, caught Mitt and a lot of the press if not by surprise (it was evident in the last rounds of polls) then unprepared for the magnitude of his victory. Huckabee ended up winning the thing by a nine point margin, which meant Mitt wouldn’t only be deprived of momentum coming out of Iowa, he would drop in the polls in reaction to the unexpected size of his defeat there. I had managed to come in a respectable fourth, only a couple hundred votes behind the third place finisher, my friend Fred Thompson. It’s all an expectations game. The press thought I hadn’t put in the time in Iowa and didn’t have a real organization there, but I had just enough of both to do well enough to avoid hurting myself in New Hampshire.

I wasn’t overconfident after learning the Iowa results, but I did think I was now the candidate to beat in the New Hampshire primary five days later. I had a small lead in most of the latest polls. Huckabee didn’t have much support there, but his win in Iowa had likely cost Mitt some of his support. So, as I heard the news from Iowa that night after finishing an event in New Hampshire, the guy who had come in fourth in a six-man field was, after the actual winner, the happiest candidate in the race.

I didn’t expect to win a blowout as I had in 2000. My lead in the latest polls was in the two to three point range, way too tight to get cocky. But I was confident enough to ignore my usual superstition about not discussing my primary-night speech before I knew whether we would celebrate a victory or concede a defeat. The victory I and just about everyone expected would be the biggest that night would likely belong to the candidate riding the most momentum out of Iowa and the biggest wave of enthusiasm. That was Senator Barack Obama, the eloquent newcomer to American politics, who had just defeated the front-runner, Hillary Clinton, in Iowa and given a victory speech that captured the imaginations of Americans who were tired of politics, including many first-time voters. He appeared unstoppable after Iowa. Everyone assumed he would win New Hampshire, too, and drive Hillary out of the race. I discussed with Davis, Salter, and Schmidt the right message for my speech that night, and we agreed I should begin by saluting Senator Obama’s historic achievement, and recognize what it meant to his supporters and to the entire country. I would also express my hope that should I be the Republican nominee, our contest would be conducted in a way that would impress Americans in both parties as respectful.

That sentiment wasn’t only a sincere wish for more civility in politics. The country wanted change. They wanted the biggest change they could get. Barack Obama was offering them change, and he had advantages I did not. He was not a member of the party in power, I was. He was young and cool and new to national politics. I was seventy one years old and had been a known commodity for some time, with a long record of votes and statements to criticize. He opposed the unpopular war in Iraq. I supported it. He would be the first African American to earn a major party’s presidential nomination. He represented change in his very person. I had to convince people I, too, was a change candidate. But the most effective means I had to convey that message was campaigning in ways that might appear novel and authentic to cynical voters. I intended to use my victory speech to start that effort.

When it became clear that night that I had managed a come-from-behind victory, beating Mitt by about five points, it was looking like Hillary might be doing the same. When the networks declared me the New Hampshire winner, the Democratic race was still too close to call, and we revised my speech accordingly. I began by noting I was too old to be called any kind of kid, “but we sure showed them what a comeback looks like.” I thanked the people of New Hampshire for hearing me out even when they disagreed with me. We were down in the polls and written off when we came here, I reminded them, “and we had just one strategy: to tell you what I believe.”

Unable to congratulate the winner of the Democrats’ primary, I paid my respects to the supporters of all the candidates, Republicans and Democrats, who “worked for a cause they believe is good for the country we all love.”

We had a long way to go. The Michigan primary was a little more than a week away. Mitt would be hard to beat there. South Carolina would be a close contest between Huckabee, Fred Thompson, and me. I needed to win one of them to continue. Winning both would be preferable, but South Carolina, the place where my rocket ride out of New Hampshire in 2000 crashed, loomed larger. Eight years before, I had stood on the steps of the Bedford, New Hampshire, town hall the night before the primary and looked out on a sea of faces. There were people crowding the streets and intersection, extending several blocks. It was thrilling, and I knew I was on the cusp of my biggest political triumph. It remains to this day my favorite campaign memory.

My 2008 primary win was not as heady as our victory in 2000. But I was deeply touched by it, and have had ever since a special affection for the proud voters in the first-in-the-nation primary. “These people have been so good to us,” I told Cindy that night. “I owe them so much.”

The next day, somewhere in Iraq’s Anbar Province, my son Jimmy helped dig an MRAP, a heavily armored personnel carrier, out of the mud in a wadi that had flooded in a downpour. He was knee-deep in the muck working a shovel, and sweating in the oppressive heat, when his sergeant walked over to him.

“McCain.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Your dad won New Hampshire.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, keep digging.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

I laughed when Jimmy recounted the exchange for me when we were reunited some months later, and I laugh every time I retell it to friends. But as I have remembered it in the years that followed, and remembered, too, my worry then that my ambitions had exposed my youngest son to even greater danger, I’m moved to tears.

CHAPTER TWO

Country First

I RECEIVED A DECENT BUMP in the national polls following my New Hampshire win, and our fund raising picked up, although we still had to pay off the bank loan we borrowed in the summer to keep the campaign running. National polling leads can create a false impression that someone is a front-runner. We don’t have national primaries. The next contest was in Michigan on January 15, and Mitt and I were running neck and neck there. Michigan wasn’t do-or-die for me, but it was for Mitt. Huckabee and I had split the first two contests. Mitt had to get into the picture now or risk being written off by reporters and donors. South Carolina was four days after Michigan, and Mitt wasn’t competing there. I saw the chance to finish him off and secure a nearly invincible position by winning Michigan and beating Huckabee and Fred Thompson in South Carolina. I had upset George Bush in the 2000 Michigan primary, and believed I had a good feel for campaign…..


from

THE RESTLESS WAVE. Good Times, Just Causes, Great Fights and Other Appreciations

by John McCain

get it at Amazon.com

Could New Zealand’s economy survive a China crisis? – Liam Dann.

“The scenarios chosen are almost certain not to accurately reflect any future shock or combination of shocks that occurs.”

In July 2018 China’s economy falters sending shockwaves through the global banking sector. Commodity prices plunge and the world faces its first global financial crisis since the meltdown of 2008.

What happens next is pretty ugly for most New Zealanders, job losses, soaring mortgage rates, falling house prices and a sharp recession.

As a forecast it would be unnecessarily gloomy, although not implausible.

But the grim situation painted by NZ Treasury is not meant to be a prediction it is a model designed to offer a stress test of our economy under extreme conditions.

A Chinese financial crisis is one of three ”large but plausible shocks” modelled by Treasury in its 2018 Investment Statement, along with a major Wellington earthquake and an outbreak of foot and mouth disease.

So what happens next in the event of a Chinese economic meltdown?

The first thing that New Zealand would see is a dramatic fall in demand for our exports. The terms of trade drops 20 per cent. The value of the Kiwi dollar plunges 13 per cent.

For most New Zealanders that means the cost of imported goods, like iPhones, and overseas travel spikes.

But that’s not the really ugly bit.

Disruption to global debt markets would push local funding costs up by 3 per cent, Treasury says.

In other words interest rates would soar, bad news for homeowners who aren’t on fixed rates.

Treasury’s model sees this flowing through to sharp fails in property prices and on the sharemarket.

In fact they estimate the cost of the revaluation if assets and liabilities at $30 billion.

Nearly $20b of that would be due to a 40 per cent crash on the stock exchange both here and around the world, devastating news for KiwiSavers.

For homeowners the immediate price fall would be about 10 per cent, as we saw in the last GFC, survivable for most unless you are under pressure to sell.

But similar falls in commercial property and farm prices would put additional stress on the economy.

Meanwhile, the uncertain outlook would drive a decline in consumer and business confidence. Both retail spending and business investment would fall. Then firms would start cutting jobs.

Some 60,000 jobs would be lost in 2019, with unemployment spiking to 7.4 per cent the highest level since 1999. it is currently 4.4 percent.

The Reserve Bank (RBNZ) would attempt to ride to the rescue of course.

You could expect to see the RBNZ cut rates by half a per cent in its September review to 1.25 per cent, Treasury estimates.

The RBNZ would likely keep cutting over the next six months until the official cash rate was at, or near, zero.

From here the news gets a little better. And as we saw during the 2008 GFC the economy has the strength and flexibility to bounce back.

The rate cuts couldn’t prevent a recession in the March quarter of 2019.

But while demand for goods exports remains low, the depreciation in the dollar, means the annual value stays on target.

“Record low interest rates and an improvement in the economic outlook leads to a pickup in business confidence, driving a strong increase in business investment,” Treasury says.

Life would still be tough for workers.

“Employment growth and consumer spending remain soft throughout.”

In the final wash-up the financial downturn would cost the Crown $157b across five years.

Net debt would rise to 33 per cent of GDP after five years 15 per cent higher than 2017 forecasts.

But ultimately the economy would pass the test.

Treasury notes that these stress tests are designed to assess whether severe but plausible shocks could have impacts that are beyond the financial capacity to absorb, thus putting the provision of public services at risk.

“The scenarios chosen are almost certain not to accurately reflect any future shock or combination of shocks that occurs.”

Childhood Adversity Can Change Your Brain. How People Recover From Post Childhood Adversity Syndrome – Donna Jackson Nakazawa * Future Directions in Childhood Adversity and Youth Psychopathology – Katie A. McLaughlin.

Childhood Adversity: exposure during childhood or adolescence to environmental circumstances that are likely to require significant psychological, social, or neurobiological adaptation by an average child and that represent a deviation from the expectable environment.

Early emotional trauma changes who we are, but we can do something about it.

The brain and body are never static; they are always in the process of becoming and changing.

Findings from epidemiological studies indicate clearly that exposure to childhood adversity powerfully shapes risk for psychopathology.

This research tells us that what doesn’t kill you doesn’t necessarily make you stronger; far more often, the opposite is true.

Donna Jackson Nakazawa

If you’ve ever wondered why you’ve been struggling a little too hard for a little too long with chronic emotional and physical health conditions that just won’t abate, feeling as if you’ve been swimming against some invisible current that never ceases, a new field of scientific research may offer hope, answers, and healing insights.

In 1995, physicians Vincent Felitti and Robert Anda launched a large scale epidemiological study that probed the child and adolescent histories of 17,000 subjects, comparing their childhood experiences to their later adult health records. The results were shocking: Nearly two thirds of individuals had encountered one or more Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs), a term Felitti and Anda coined to encompass the chronic, unpredictable, and stress inducing events that some children face. These included growing up with a depressed or alcoholic parent; losing a parent to divorce or other causes; or enduring chronic humiliation, emotional neglect, or sexual or physical abuse. These forms of emotional trauma went beyond the typical, everyday challenges of growing up.

The number of Adverse Childhood Experiences an individual had had predicted the amount of medical care she’d require as an adult with surprising accuracy:

– Individuals who had faced 4 or more categories of ACEs were twice as likely to be diagnosed with cancer as individuals who hadn’t experienced childhood adversity.

– For each ACE Score a woman had, her risk of being hospitalized with an autoimmune disease rose by 20 percent.

– Someone with an ACE Score of 4 was 460 percent more likely to suffer from depression than someone with an ACE Score of 0.

– An ACE Score greater than or equal to 6 shortened an individual’s lifespan by almost 20 years.

The ACE Study tells us that experiencing chronic, unpredictable toxic stress in childhood predisposes us to a constellation of chronic conditions in adulthood. But why? Today, in labs across the country, neuroscientists are peering into the once inscrutable brain-body connection, and breaking down, on a biochemical level, exactly how the stress we face when we’re young catches up with us when we’re adults, altering our bodies, our cells, and even our DNA. What they’ve found may surprise you.

Some of these scientific findings can be a little overwhelming to contemplate. They compel us to take a new look at how emotional and physical pain are intertwined.

1. Epigenetic Shifts

When we’re thrust over and over again into stress inducing situations during childhood or adolescence, our physiological stress response shifts into overdrive, and we lose the ability to respond appropriately and effectively to future stressors 10, 20, even 30 years later. This happens due to a process known as gene methylation, in which small chemical markers, or methyl groups, adhere to the genes involved in regulating the stress response, and prevent these genes from doing their jobs.

As the function of these genes is altered, the stress response becomes re-set on ”high” for life, promoting inflammation and disease.

This can make us more likely to overreact to the everyday stressors we meet in our adult life, an unexpected bill, a disagreement with a spouse, or a car that swerves in front of us on the highway, creating more inflammation. This, in turn, predisposes us to a host of chronic conditions, including autoimmune disease, heart disease, cancer, and depression.

Indeed, Yale researchers recently found that children who’d faced chronic, toxic stress showed changes “across the entire genome,” in genes that not only oversee the stress response, but also in genes implicated in a wide array of adult diseases. This new research on early emotional trauma, epigenetic changes, and adult physical disease breaks down longstanding delineations between what the medical community has long seen as “physical” disease versus what is “mental” or “emotional.”

2. Size and Shape of the Brain

Scientists have found that when the developing brain is chronically stressed, it releases a hormone that actually shrinks the size of the hippocampus, an area of the brain responsible of processing emotion and memory and managing stress. Recent magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) studies suggest that the higher an individual’s ACE Score, the less gray matter he or she has in other key areas of the brain, including the prefrontal cortex, an area related to decision making and self regulatory skills, and the amygdala, or fear-processmg center. Kids whose brains have been changed by their Adverse Childhood Experiences are more likely to become adults who find themselves over-reacting to even minor stressors.

3. Neural Pruning

Children have an overabundance of neurons and synaptic connections; their brains are hard at work, trying to make sense of the world around them. Until recently, scientists believed that the pruning of excess neurons and connections was achieved solely in a “use-it-or-lose-it” manner, but a surprising new player in brain development has appeared on the scene: non-neuronal brain cells, known as microglia, which make up one-tenth of all the cells in the brain, and are actually part of the immune system, participate in the pruning process. These cells prune synapses like a gardener prunes a hedge. They also engulf and digest entire cells and cellular debris, thereby playing an essential housekeeping role.

But when a child faces unpredictable, chronic stress of Adverse Childhood Experiences, microglial cells “can get really worked up and crank out neurochemicals that lead to neuroinflammation,” says Margaret McCarthy, PhD, whose research team at the University of Maryland Medical Center studies the developing brain. “This below-the-radar state of chronic neuroinflammation can lead to changes that reset the tone of the brain for life.”

That means that kids who come into adolescence with a history of adversity and lack the presence of a consistent, loving adult to help them through it may become more likely to develop mood disorders or have poor executive functioning and decision-making skills.

4. Telomeres

Early trauma can make children seem “older,” emotionally speaking, than their peers. Now, scientists at Duke University; the University of California, San Francisco; and Brown University have discovered that Adverse Childhood Experiences may prematurely age children on a cellular level as well. Adults who’d faced early trauma show greater erosion in what are known as telomeres, the protective caps that sit on the ends of DNA strands, like the caps on Shoelaces, to keep the genome healthy and intact. As our telomeres erode, we’re more likely to develop disease, and our cells age faster.

5. Default Mode Network

Inside each of our brains, a network of neurocircuitry, known as the “default mode network,” quietly hums along, like a car idling in a driveway. It unites areas of the brain associated with memory and thought integration, and it’s always on standby, ready to help us to figure out what we need to do next. “The dense connectivity in these areas of the brain help us to determine what’s relevant or not relevant, so that we can be ready for whatever our environment is going to ask of us,” explains Ruth Lanius, neuroscientist professor of psychiatry, and director of the Post Traumatic Stress (PTSD) Research Unit at the University of Ontario.

But when children face early adversity and are routinely thrust into a state of fight-or-flight, the default mode network starts to go offline; it’s no longer helping them to figure out what’s relevant, or what they need to do next.

According to Lanius, kids who’ve faced early trauma have less connectivity in the default mode network, even decades after the trauma occurred. Their brains don’t seem to enter that healthy idling position, and so they may have trouble reacting appropriately to the world around them.

6. Brain-Body Pathway

Until recently, it’s been scientifically accepted that the brain is ”immune-privileged,” or cut off from the body’s immune system. But that turns out not to be the case, according to a groundbreaking study conducted by researchers at the University of Virginia School of Medicine. Researchers found that an elusive pathway travels between the brain and the immune system via lymphatic vessels. The lymphatic system, which is part of the circulatory system, carries lymph, a liquid that helps to eliminate toxins, and moves immune cells from one part of the body to another. Now we know that the immune system pathway includes the brain.

The results of this study have profound implications for ACE research. For a child who’s experienced adversity, the relationship between mental and physical suffering is strong: the inflammatory chemicals that flood a child’s brain when she’s chronically stressed aren’t confined to the brain alone; they’re shuttled from head to toe.

7. Brain Connectivity

Ryan Herringa, neuropsychiatrist and assistant professor of child and adolescent psychiatry at the University of Wisconsin, found that children and teens who’d experienced chronic childhood adversity showed weaker neural connections between the prefrontal cortex and the hippocampus. Girls also displayed weaker connections between the prefrontal cortex and the amygdala. The prefrontalcortex-amygdala relationship plays an essential role in determining how emotionally reactive we’re likely to be to the things that happen to us in our day-to-day life, and how likely we are to perceive these events as stressful or dangerous.

According to Herringa:

“If you are a girl who has had Adverse Childhood Experiences and these brain connections are weaker, you might expect that in just about any stressful situation you encounter as life goes on, you may experience a greater level of fear and anxiety.”

Girls with these weakened neural connections, Herringa found, stood at a higher risk for developing anxiety and depression by the time they reached late adolescence. This may, in part, explain why females are nearly twice as likely as males to suffer from later mood disorders.

This science can be overwhelming, especially to those of us who are parents. So, what can you do if you or a child you love has been affected by early adversity?

The good news is that, just as our scientific understanding of how adversity affects the developing brain is growing, so is our scientific insight into how we can offer the children we love resilient parenting, and how we can all take small steps to heal body and brain. Just as physical wounds and bruises heal, just as we can regain our muscle tone, we can recover function in under-connected areas of the brain. The brain and body are never static; they are always in the process of becoming and changing.

Donna Jackson Nakazawa

8 Ways People Recover From Post Childhood Adversity Syndrome

New research leads to new approaches with wide benefits.

In this infographic, I show the link between Adverse Childhood Experiences, later physical adult disease, and what we can do to heal.

Cutting edge research tells us that experiencing childhood emotional trauma can play a large role in whether we develop physical disease in adulthood. In Part 1 of this series we looked at the growing scientific link between childhood adversity and adult physical disease. This research tells us that what doesn’t kill you doesn’t necessarily make you stronger; far more often, the opposite is true.

Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACES), which include emotional or physical neglect; harm developing brains, predisposing them to autoimmune disease, heart disease, cancer, debression, and a number of other chronic conditions, decades after the trauma took place.

Recognizing that chronic childhood stress can play a role, along with genetics and other factors, in developing adult illnesses and relationship challenges, can be enormously freeing. If you have been wondering why you’ve been struggling a little too hard for a little too long with your emotional and physical wellbeing, feeling as if you’ve been swimming against some invisible current that never ceases this “aha” can come as a welcome relief. Finally, you can begin to see the current and understand how it’s been working steadily against you all of your life.

Once we understand how the past can spill into the present, and how a tough childhood can become a tumultuous, challenging adulthood, we have a new possibility of healing. As one interviewee in my new book, Childhood Disrupted: How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal, said, when she learned about Adverse Childhood Experiences for the first time, “Now I understand why I’ve felt all my life as if I’ve been trying to dance without hearing any music.” Suddenly, she felt the possibility that by taking steps to heal from the emotional wounds of the past she might find a new layer of healing in the present.

There is truth to the old saying that knowledge is power. Once you understand that your body and brain have been harmed by the biological impact of early emotional trauma, you can at last take the necessary, science based steps to remove the fingerprints that early adversity left on your neurobiology. You can begin a journey to healing, to reduce your proclivity to inflammation, depression, addiction, physical pain, and disease.

Science tells us that biology does not have to be destiny. ACEs can last a lifetime but they don’t have to. We can reboot our brains. Even if we have been set on high reactive mode for decades or a lifetime, we can still dial it down. We can respond to life’s inevitable stressors more appropriately and shift away from an overactive inflammatory response. We can become neurobiologically resilient. We can turn bad epigenetics into good epigenetics and rescue ourselves.

Today, researchers recognize a range of promising approaches to help create new neurons (known as neurogenesis), make new synaptic connections between those neurons (known as synaptogenesis), promote new patterns of thoughts and reactions, bring underconnected areas of the brain back online, and reset our stress response so that we decrease the inflammation that makes us ill.

We have the capacity, within ourselves, to create better health. We might call this brave undertaking “the neurobiology of awakening.”

There can be no better time than now to begin your own awakening, to proactively help yourself and those you love, embrace resilience, and move forward toward growth, even transformation.

Here are 8 steps to try:

1. Take the ACE Questionnaire

The single most important step you can take toward healing and transformation is to fill out the ACE Questionnaire for yourself and share your results with your health, care practitioner. For many people, taking the 10-question survey “helps to normalize the conversation about Adverse Childhood Experiences and their impact on our lives,” says Vincent Felitti, co-founder of the ACE Study. “When we make it okay to talk about what happened, it removes the power that secrecy so often has.”

You’re not asking your healthcare practitioner to act as your therapist, or to change your prescriptions; you’re simply acknowledging that there might be a link between your past and your present. Ideally, given the recent discoveries in the field of ACE research, your doctor will also acknowledge that this link is plausible, and add some of the following modalities to your healing protocol.

2. Begin Writing to Heal.

Think about writing down your story of childhood adversity, using a technique psychologists call “writing to heal.” James Pennebaker, professor of psychology at the University of Texas, Austin, developed this assignment, which demonstrates the effects of writing as a healing modality. He suggests: “Over the next four days, write down your deepest emotions and thoughts about the emotional upheaval that has been influencing your life the most. in your writing, really let go and explore the event and how it has affected you. You might tie this experience to your childhood, your relationship with your parents, people you have loved or love now…Write continuously for twenty minutes a day.”

When Pennebaker had students complete this assignment, their grades went up. When adults wrote to heal, they made fewer doctors’ visits and demonstrated changes in their immune function. The exercise of writing about your secrets, even if you destroy what you’ve written afterward, has been shown to have positive health effects.

3. Practice Mindfulness Meditation.

A growing body of research indicates that individuals who’ve practiced mindfulness meditation and Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) show an increase in gray matter in the same parts of the brain that are damaged by Adverse Childhood Experiences and shifts in genes that regulate their physiological stress response.

According to Trish Magyari, LCPC, a mindfulness-based psychotherapist and researcher who specializes in trauma and illness, adults abuse who took part in a “trauma-sensitive” MBSR program, had less anxiety and depression, and demonstrated fewer PTSD symptoms, even two years after taking the course.

Many meditation centers offer MBSR classes and retreats, but you can practice anytime in your own home. Choose a time and place to focus on your breath as it enters and leaves your nostrils; the rise and fall of your chest; the sensations in your hands or through the whole body; or sounds within or around you. If you get distracted, just come back to your anchor.

There are many medications you can take that dampen the sympathetic nervous system (which ramps up your stress response when you come into contact with a stressor), but there aren’t any medications that boost the parasympathetic nervous system (which helps to calm your body down after the stressor has passed).

Your breath is the best natural calming treatment, and it has no side effects.

4. Yoga

When children face ACEs, they often store decades of physical tension from a fight, flight, or freeze state of mind in their bodies. PET scans show that yoga decreases blood flow to the amygdala, the brain’s alarm center, and increases blood flow to the frontal lobe and prefrontal cortex, which help us to react to stressors with a greater sense of equanimity.

Yoga has also be found to increase levels of GABA, or gamma aminobutyric acid, a chemical that improves brain function, promotes calm, and helps to protect us against depression and anxiety.

5. Therapy

Sometimes, the long lasting effects of childhood trauma are just too great to tackle on our own. In these cases, says Jack Kornfield, psychologist and meditation teacher, “meditation is not always enough.” We need to bring unresolved issues into a therapeutic relationship, and get backup in unpacking the past.

When we partner with a skilled therapist to address the adversity we may have faced decades ago, those negative memories become paired with the positive experience of being seen by someone who accepts us as we are, and a new window to healing opens.

Part of the power of therapy lies in an allowing safe person. A therapist’s unconditional acceptance helps us to modify the circuits in our brain that tell us that we can’t trust anyone, and grow new, healthier neural connections.

It can also help us to heal the underlying, cellular damage of traumatic stress, down to our DNA. In one study, patients who underwent therapy showed changes in the integrity of their genome, even a year after their regular sessions ended.

6. EEG Neurofeedback

Electroencephalographic (EEG) Neurofeedback is a clinical approach to healing childhood trauma in which patients learn to influence their thoughts and feelings by watching their brain’s electrical activity in real-time, on a laptop screen. Someone hooked up to the computer via electrodes on his scalp might see an image of a field; when his brain is under-activated in a key area, the field, which changes in response to neural activity, may appear to be muddy and gray, the flowers wilted; but when that area of the brain reactivates, it triggers the flowers to burst into color and birds to sing. With practice, the patient learns to initiate certain thought patterns that lead to neural activity associated with pleasant images and sounds.

You might think of a licensed EEG Neurofeedback therapist as a musical conductor, who’s trying to get different parts of the orchestra to play a little more softly in some cases, and a little louder in others, in order to achieve harmony. After just one EEG Neurofeedback session, patients showed greater neural connectivity and improved emotional resilience, making it a compelling option for those who’ve suffered the long lasting effects of chronic, unpredictable stress in childhood.

7. EMDR Therapy

Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) is a potent form of psychotherapy that helps individuals to remember difficult experiences safely and relate those memories in ways that no longer cause pain in the present.

Here’s how it works:

EMDR-certified therapists help patients to trigger painful emotions. As these emotions lead the patients to recall specific difficult experiences, they are asked to shift their gaze back and forth rapidly, often by following a pattern of lights or a wand that moves from right to left, right to left, in a movement that simulates the healing action of REM sleep.

The repetitive directing of attention in EMDR induces a neurobiological state that helps the brain to re-integrate neural connections that have been dysregulated by chronic, unpredictable stress and past experiences. This re-integration can, in turn, lead to a reduction in the episodic, traumatic memories we store in the hippocampus, and downshift the amygdala’s activity. Other studies have shown that EMDR increases the volume of the hippocampus,

EMDR therapy has been endorsed by the World Health Organization as one of only two forms of psychotherapy for children and adults in natural disasters and war settings.

8. Rally Community Healing

Often, ACEs stem from bad relationships, neglectful relatives, schoolyard bullies, abusive partners, but the right kinds of relationships can help to make us whole again. When we find people who support us, when we feel “tended and befriended,” our bodies and brains have a better shot at healing. Research has found that having strong social ties improves outcomes for women with breast cancer, multiple sclerosis, and other diseases. In part, that’s because positive interactions with others boost our production of oxytocin, a feel-good hormone that dials down the inflammatory stress response.

If you’re at a loss for ways to connect, try a mindfulness meditation community or an MBSR class, or pass along the ACE Questionnaire or even my newest book, Childhood Disrupted: How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal, to family and friends to spark important, meaningful conversations.

You’re Not Alone

Whichever modalities you and your physician choose to implement, it’s important to keep in mind that you’re not alone. When you begin to understand that your feelings of loss, shame, guilt, anxiety, or grief are shared by so many others, you can lend support and swap ideas for healing.

When you embrace the process of healing despite your Adverse Childhood Experiences, you don’t just become who you might have been if you hadn’t encountered childhood suffering in the first place. You gain something better, the hard earned gift of life wisdom, which you bring forward into every arena of your life. The recognition that you have lived through hard times drives you to develop deeper empathy, seek more intimacy, value life’s sweeter moments, and treasure your connectedness to others and to the world at large. This is the hard won benefit of having known suffering.

Best of all, you can find ways to start right where you are, no matter where you find yourself.

Future Directions in Childhood Adversity and Youth Psychopathology

Katie A. McLaughlin, Department of Psychology, University of Washington

Abstract

Despite long standing interest in the influence of adverse early experiences on mental health, systematic scientific inquiry into childhood adversity and developmental outcomes has emerged only recently. Existing research has amply demonstrated that exposure to childhood adversity is associated with elevated risk for multiple forms of youth psychopathology.

In contrast. knowledge of developmental mechanisms linking childhood adversity to the onset of Psychopathology, and whether those mechanisms are general or specific to particular kinds of adversity, remains cursory.

Greater understanding of these pathways and identification of protective factors that buffer children from developmental disruptions following exposure to adversity is essential to guide the development of interventions to prevent the onset of psychopathology following adverse childhood experiences,

This article provides recommendations for future research in this area. In particular, use of a consistent definition of childhood adversity, integration of studies of typical development with those focused on childhood adversity, and identification of distinct dimensions of environmental experience that differentially influence development are required to uncover mechanisms that explain how childhood adversity is associated with numerous psychopathology outcomes (i.e., multifinality) and identify moderators that shape divergent trajectories following adverse childhood experiences.

A transdiagnostic model that highlights disruptions in emotional processing and poor executive functioning as key mechanisms linking childhood adversity with multiple forms of psychopathology is presented as a starting point in this endeavour. Distinguishing between general and specific mechanisms linking childhood adversity with psychopathology is needed to generate empirically informed interventions to prevent the long term consequences of adverse early environments on children’s development.

The lasting influence of early experience on mental health across the lifespan has been emphasized in theories of the etiology of psychopathology since the earliest formulations of mental illness. In particular, the roots of mental disorder have often been argued to be a consequence of adverse environmental experiences occurring in childhood. Despite this long standing interest, systematic scientific inquiry into the effects of childhood adversity on health and development has emerged only recently.

Prior work on childhood adversity focused largely on individual types of adverse experiences, such as death of a parent, divorce, sexual abuse, or poverty, and research on these topics evolved as relatively independent lines of inquiry. The transition to considering these types of adversities as indicators of the same underlying construct was prompted, in part, by the findings of a seminal study examining childhood adversity as a determinant of adult physical and mental health and advances in theoretical conceptualizations of stress. Specifically. findings from the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study documented high levels of cooccurrence of multiple forms of childhood adversity and strong associations of exposure to adverse childhood experiences with a wide range of adult health outcomes (Dong et al., 2004; Edwards, Holden, Felitti, & Anda, 2003; Felitti et al., 1998).

Around the same time, the concept of allostatic load was introduced as a comprehensive neurobiological model of the effects of stress (McEwen, 1998, 2000). Allostatic load provided a framework for explaining the neurobiological mechanisms linking a variety of adverse social experiences to health. Together, these discoveries sparked renewed interest in the childhood determinants of physical and mental health. Since that time there has been a veritable explosion of research into the impact of childhood adversity on developmental outcomes, including psychopathology.

CHILDHOOD ADVERSITY AND PSYCHOPATHOLOGY

Over the past two decades, hundreds of studies have examined the associations between exposure to childhood adversity and risk for psychopathology (Evans, Li, & Whipple, 2013). Here, I briefly review this evidence, focusing specifically on findings from epidemiological studies designed to allow inferences to be drawn at the population level. These studies have documented five general patterns with regard to childhood adversity and the distribution of mental disorders in the population.

First, despite differences across studies in the prevalence of specific types of adversity, all population based studies indicate that exposure to childhood adversity is common. The prevalence of exposure to childhood adversity is estimated at about 50% in the U.S. population across numerous epidemiological surveys (Green et al., 2010; Kessler, Davis, & Kendler, 1997; McLaughlin, Conron, Koenen, & Gilman, 2010; McLaughlin, Green et al., 2012). Remarkably similar prevalence estimates have been documented in other high income countries, as well as in low and middle income countries worldwide (Kessler et al., 2010).

Second, individuals who have experienced childhood adversity are at elevated risk for developing a lifetime mental disorder compared to individuals without such exposure, and the odds of developing a lifetime mental disorder increase as exposure to adversity increases (Edwards et al., 2003; Green et al., 2010; Kessler et al., 1997; Kessler et al., 2010; McLaughlin, Conron, etal., 2010; McLaughlin, Green, et al., 2012).

Third, exposure to childhood adversity confers vulnerability to psychopathology that persists across the life course. Childhood adversity exposure is associated not only with risk of mental disorder onset in childhood and adolescence (McLaughlin, Green, et al., 2012) but also with elevated odds of developing a first onset mental disorder in adulthood, which persists after adjustment for mental disorders beginning at earlier stages of development (Green et al., 2010; Kessler et al., 1997; Kessler et al., 2010).

Fourth, the associations of childhood adversity with different types of commonly occurring mental disorders are largely nonspecific. Individuals who have experienced childhood adversity experience greater odds of developing mood, anxiety, substance use, and disruptive behavior disorders, with little meaningful variation in the strength of associations across disorder classes (Green et al., 2010; Kessler et al., 1997; Kessler et al., 2010; McLaughlin, Green, et al., 2012).

Recent epidemiological findings suggest that the associations of child maltreatment, a commonly measured form of adversity, with lifetime mental disorders operate entirely through a latent liability to experience internalizing and externalizing psychopathology with no direct effects on specific mental disorders that are not explained by this latent vulnerability (Caspi et al., 2014; Keyes et al., 2012).

Finally, exposure to childhood adversity explains a substantial proportion of mental disorder onsets in the population, both in the United States and cross nationally (Afifi et al., 2008′, Green et a1., 2010; Kessler et al., 2010; McLaughlin, Green, et al., 2012). This reflects both the high prevalence of exposure to childhood adversity and the strong association of childhood adversity with the onset of psychopathology.

Together, findings from epidemiological studies indicate clearly that exposure to childhood adversity powerfully shapes risk for psychopathology in the population.

As such, it is time for the field to move beyond these types of basic descriptive studies to research designs aimed at identifying the underlying developmental mechanisms linking childhood adversity to psychopathology. Although ample research has been conducted examining mechanisms linking individual types of adversity to psychopathology (e.g., sexual abuse; Trickett, Noll, & Putnam, 2011), far less is known about which of these mechanisms are common across different types of adversity versus specific to particular types of experiences. Greater understanding of these pathways, as well as the identification of protective factors that buffer children from disruptions in emotional, cognitive, social, and neurobiological development following exposure to adversity, is essential to guide the development of interventions to prevent the onset of psychopathology in children exposed to adversity, a critical next step for the field.

However, persistent issues regarding the definition and measurement of childhood adversity must be addressed before meaningful progress on mechanisms, protective factors, and prevention of psychopathology following childhood adversity will be possible.

FUTURE DIRECTIONS IN CHILDHOOD ADVERSITY AND YOUTH PSYCHOPATHOLOGY

This article has two primary goals. The first is to provide recommendations for future research on childhood adversity and youth psychopathology. These recommendations relate to the definition and measurement of childhood adversity, the integration of studies of typical development with those on childhood adversity, and the importance of distinguishing between general and specific mechanisms linking childhood adversity to psychopathology.

The second goal is to provide a transdiagnostic model of mechanisms linking childhood adversity and youth psychopathology that incorporates each of these recommendations.

Defining Childhood Adversity

Childhood adversity is a construct in search of a definition. Despite the burgeoning interest and research attention devoted to childhood adversity, there is a surprising lack of consistency with regard to the definition and measurement of the construct. Key issues remain unaddressed in the literature regarding the definition of childhood adversity and the boundary conditions of the construct. To what does the construct of childhood adversity refer? What types of experiences qualify as childhood adversity and what types do not?

Where do we draw the line between normative experiences of stress and those that qualify as an adverse childhood experience? How does the construct of childhood adversity differ from other constructs that have been linked to psychopathology risk, including stress, toxic stress. and trauma? It will be critical to gain clarity on these definitional issues before more complex questions regarding mechanisms and protective factors can be systematically examined.

Even in the seminal ACE Study that spurred much of the recent research into childhood adversity, a concrete definition of adverse childhood experience is not provided. The original article from the study argues for the importance of understanding the lasting health effects of child abuse and “household dysfunction,” the latter of which is never defined specifically (Felitti et al., 1998). The CDC website for the ACE Study indicates that the ACE score. a count of the total number of adversities experienced. is designed to assess ”the total amount of stress experienced during childhood.”

Why has a concrete definition of childhood adversity remained elusive? As I see it, there is a relatively simple explanation for this notable gap in the literature. Childhood adversity is difficult to define but fairly obvious to most observers. making the construct an example of the classic standard of you know it when you see it. Although this has allowed a significant scientific knowledge base on childhood adversity to emerge within a relatively short period, the lack of an agreed upon definition of the construct represents a significant impediment to future progress in the field.

How can we begin to build scientific consensus on the definition of childhood adversity? Critically, we must come to an agreement about what childhood adversity is and what it is not. Adversity is defined as “a state or instance of serious or continued difficulty or misfortune; a difficult situation or condition; misfortune or tragedy” (“Adversity,” 2015).

This provides a reasonable starting point. Adversity is an environmental event that must be serious (i.e., severe) or a series of events that continues overtime (i.e.. chronic).

Building on Scott Monroe‘s (2008) definition of life stress and models of experience expectant brain development (Baumrind, 1993; Fox. Levitt, & Nelson. 2010), I propose that childhood adversity should be defined as experiences that are likely to require significant adaptation by an average child and that represent a deviation from the expectable environment. The expectable environment refers to a wide range of species typical environmental inputs that the human brain requires to develop normally. These include sensory inputs (e.g., variation in patterned light information that is required for normal development of the visual system), exposure to language, and the presence of a sensitive and responsive caregiver (Fox et al., 2010).

As I have argued elsewhere (McLaughlin, Sheridan, & Lambert, 2014; Sheridan & McLaughlin, 2014), deviations from the expectable environment often take two primary forms: an absence of expected inputs (e. g., limited exposure to language or the absence of a primary caregiver), or the presence of unexpected inputs that represent significant threats to the physical integrity or well being of the child (e.g., exposure to violence).

A similar approach to classifying key forms of child adversity has been articulated by others as well (Farah et al., 2008; Humphreys & Zeanah, 2015). These experiences can either be chronic (e.g.. prolonged neglect) or involve single events that are severe enough to represent a deviation from the expectable environment (e.g., sexual abuse).

Together, this provides a working definition of childhood adversity: exposure during childhood or adolescence to environmental circumstances that are likely to require significant psychological, social, or neurobiological adaptation by an average child and that represent a deviation from the expectable environment.

This definition provides some clarity about what childhood adversity is not. The clearest boundary condition involves the developmental timing of exposure; experiences classified as childhood adversity must occur prior to adulthood, either during childhood or adolescence. Most research on childhood adversity has taken a broad definition of childhood, including events occurring during either childhood or adolescence. Although the demarcation between adolescence and adulthood is itself a point of debate, relative consensus exists regarding the onset of adult roles as the end of adolescence (Steinberg, 2014).

Second. childhood adversity refers to an event or ongoing events in the environment. Childhood adversity thus refers only to specific environmental circumstances or events and not to an individual child’s response to those circumstances.

Third, childhood adversity refers to environmental conditions that are likely to require significant psychological, social, or neurobiological adaptation by an average child; therefore, events that represent transient or minor hassles should not qualify.

What types of events should be considered severe enough to warrant classification as adversity? Although there is no absolute rule or formula that can be used to distinguish circumstances or events requiring significant adaptation from those that are less severe or impactful, childhood adversity should include conditions or events that are likely to have a meaningful and lasting impact on developmental processes for most children who experience them. In other words, experiences that could alter fundamental aspects of development in emotional, cognitive, social, or neurobiological domains are the types of experiences that should qualify as adversity.

Studies of childhood adversity should clearly define the study specific decision rules used to distinguish between adversity and more normative stressors.

Finally, environmental circumstances or stressors that do not represent deviations from the expectable environment should not be classified as childhood adversity. In other words. childhood adversity should not include any and all stressors that occur during childhood or adolescence. Two examples of childhood stressors that would likely not qualify as childhood adversity based on this definition, because they do not meet the condition of representing a deviation from the expectable environment, are moving to a new school and death of an elderly grandparent. Each of these childhood stressors should require adaptation by an average child. and could influence mental health and development. However, neither represents a deviation from the expectable childhood environment and therefore does not meet the proposed definition of childhood adversity.

A key question for the field is whether the definition of childhood adversity should be narrow or broad. This question will determine whether other common forms of adversity or stress should be considered as indicators of childhood adversity. For example, many population based studies have included parental psychopathology and divorce as forms of adversity (Felitti et al., 1998; Green et al.. 2010). Given the high prevalence of psychopathology and divorce in the population, consideration of any form of parental psychopathology or any type of divorce as a form of adversity results in a fairly broad definition of adversity; certainly, not all cases of parental psychopathology or all divorces result in significant adversity for children. A more useful approach might be to consider only those cases of parental psychopathology or divorce that result in parenting behavior that deviates from the expectable environment (i. e., consistent unavailability, unresponsiveness, or insensitive care) or that generate other types of significant adversity for children (e.g., economic adversity, emotional abuse, etc.) as meeting the threshold for childhood adversity. Providing these types of boundary conditions is important to prevent the construct of childhood adversity from meaning everything and nothing at the same time.

Finally, how does childhood adversity differ from related constructs, including stress, toxic stress, and trauma that can also occur during childhood? What is unique about the construct of childhood adversity that is not captured in definitions of these similar constructs?

First, how is childhood adversity different from stress? The prevailing conceptualization of life stress defines the construct as the adaptation of an organism to specific circumstances that change over time (Monroe, 2008). This definition includes three primary components that interact with one another: environment (the circumstance or event that requires adaptation by the organism), organism (the response to the environmental stimulus), and time (the interactions between the organism and the environment over time; Monroe, 2008). In contrast, childhood adversity refers only to the first of these three components, the environmental aspect of stress.

Second. how is adversity different from toxic stress, a construct recently developed by Jack Shonkoff and colleagues (Shonkoff & Garner, 2012)? Toxic stress refers to the second component of stress just described, the response of the organism. Specifically, toxic stress refers to exaggerated, frequent, or prolonged activation of physiological stress response systems in response to an accumulation of multiple adversities over time in the absence of protection from a supportive caregiver (Shonkoff & Garner, 2012). The concept of toxic stress is conceptually similar to the construct of allostatic load as defined by McEwen (2000) and focuses on a different aspect of stress than childhood adversity.

Finally, how is childhood adversity distinct from trauma? Trauma is defined as exposure to actual or threatened death. serious injury, or sexual violence, either by directly experiencing or witnessing such events or by learning of such events occurring to a close relative or friend (American Psychiatric Association, 2013). Traumatic events occurring in childhood represent one potential form of childhood adversity, but not all types of childhood adversity are traumatic. Examples of adverse childhood experiences that would not be considered traumatic are neglect; poverty; and the absence of a stable, supportive caregiver.

The first concrete recommendation for future research is that the field must utilize a consistent definition of childhood adversity. A useful definition must have clarity about what childhood adversity is and what it is not, provide guidance about decision rules for applying the definition in specific contexts, and increase consistency in the measurement and application of childhood adversity across studies. The definition proposed here that childhood adversity involves experiences that are likely to require significant adaptation by an average child and that represent a deviation from the expectable environment-represents a starting point in this endeavor, although consideration of alterative definitions and scholarly debate about the relative merits of different definitions is encouraged.

Integrating Studies of Typical and Atypical Development

A developmental psychopathology perspective emphasizes the reciprocal and integrated nature of our understanding of normal and abnormal development (Cicchetti, 1996′, Cicchetti & Lynch, 1993; Lynch & Cicchetti, 1998). Normal developmental patterns must be characterized to identify developmental deviations, and abnormal developmental outcomes shed light on the normal developmental processes that lead to maladaptation when disrupted (Cicchetti, 1993; Sroufe, 1990). Maladaptive outcomes, including psychopathology, are considered to be the product of developmental processes (Sroufe, 1997, 2009). This implies that in order to uncover mechanisms linking childhood adversity to psychopathology, the developmental trajectory of the candidate emotional, cognitive, social, or neurobiological process under typical circumstances must first be characterized before examining how exposure to an adverse environment alters that trajectory. This approach has been utilized less frequently than would be expected in the literature on childhood adversity.

Recent work from Nim Tottenham’s lab on functional connectivity between the amygdala and medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC) highlights the utility of this strategy. In an initial study, Gee, Humphreys, et a1. (2013) demonstrated age related changes in amygdala-mPFC functional connectivity in a typically developing sample of children during a task involving passive viewing of fearful and neutral faces. Specifically, they observed a developmental shift from a pattern of positive amygdala-mPFC functional connectivity during early and middle childhood to a pattern of negative connectivity (i.e., higher mPFC activity, lower amygdala activity) beginning in the prepubertal period and continuing throughout adolescence (Gee. Humphreys, et al., 2013). Next, they examined how exposur