I Will Choose Freewill

As many of you know, Valentine's Day was my birthday. I turned 78, and to my surprise, more than 1,100 folks reached out to me on social media to send happy birthday wishes. Some were Rush fans, some were baseball fans, some were former colleagues, some were former students, some were folks I play Wordle with online, and of course, some were friends of mine. But I sincerely didn't expect such a large number, and I tried my best to get back to as many of them as I could to express my gratitude.

Over the past few days, I was thinking about what it means to be 78. By some standards, it's considered "old": in the 1950s, when I was a kid, I remember that people in their 70s were called "elderly," rather than the more euphemistic "senior citizens." If they weren't living with their adult children, many elderly usually lived in "old age homes," and it was highly unusual for someone of that advanced age to still be working. In fact, even reaching the age of 78 was seen as quite an achievement back then. 

I was raised in that time before the internet, but I also grew up in the era when cable TV was new. There was no expectation of instant information, and news anchors were generally admired (as were policemen, firemen, and doctors). Inflammatory talk shows were unheard of; if you were angry about something that happened in your community, you wrote a letter to the editor of your local newspaper. I guess I grew up in a more courteous era, when politicians and celebrities would never say anything vulgar in public. It was also a time when people felt a duty to their communities, and believed in trying to make society better; lots of folks either belonged to civic organizations or they did volunteer work. And there were few public discussions of politics or any potentially divisive topics. 

But let's be honest: it wasn't a paradise, even if some folks today want to remember it that way. It was a time when conformity was valued and people perceived as non-conformists were made to feel unwelcome. I lived through an era of anti-war protests, civil rights marches, and frequent disagreements between the generations: in fact, when we young people questioned authority, the older people said we were wrong to do that. And while many things gradually changed, not everything did: well into the 1970s and 1980s, traditional gender roles were still being enforced-- even the idea that a woman should be paid the same as a man for doing the same job was controversial.   

But this isn't just a trip down memory lane. I've always been able to adapt to whatever the trends, and I still keep up with what's going on (I'm still an avid reader). As the technology changed, I learned to use a VCR, then I learned to go online, and then I joined social media. Today, folks can find me on a variety of platforms, where I love to talk music, or baseball, or politics, or broadcasting, and of course, I enjoy talking about a certain Canadian rock band with whom I have a 50-year history. 

And that leads me to the lyrics of the song "Freewill," which has been on my mind recently. It's often misinterpreted as a song that opposes organized religion. That is certainly one possible interpretation, but to me, it's a song about the importance of making choices, rather than just going along with whatever others are doing. I've never heard any of the guys in Rush tell people what to believe. They simply asked you to make a choice based on reason: in other words, if you believe in a Deity, do so because it makes your life better, rather than out of a fear of hell. Similarly, if you are (like me) in your late 70s, and people say you are "too old" to do something, think about your options and then make your own decision.

I've always found it interesting that Neil's lyrics ask us to "choose" freewill (or free will, if you prefer). If we already have it, as most religions and philosophies say we do, why do we need to choose it? Because there have always been societal forces that want us to conform, to give up our choice, to do as we are told. But if we get discouraged, if we feel overwhelmed, if we give up our ability to choose, then we make it easier for those who want to hold us back, those who don't want us to succeed. So, even though sometimes, things don't look very hopeful, even though I may not always be able to accomplish everything I want, I shouldn't use that as an excuse not to try... or worse yet, as an excuse to let others make the decisions while I sit on the sidelines. And so, that's why, for as long as I'm able, I will continue to think for myself, I will continue to stand for ethics, and as much as possible, I will continue to try to make this world a better place. I may be 78, but that doesn't mean I'm done yet. And so, today and every day, I will choose freewill. What about you?         

Please Do Not Erase

February is Black History Month. We've been observing a celebration of Black History for nearly 100 years: ever since early February 1926. Back then, educator and author Carter G. Woodson called it "Negro History Week," and by the late 1960s, inspired by the Civil Rights Movement, it evolved into Black History Month. But the goal back in 1926 was the same as it is today: to shine a light on some voices that have often been marginalized, ignored, or even written out of the history they were a part of. 

Woodson's goal was not tokenism, nor was he trying to "promote diversity." He was simply trying to tell the truth. That's what historians and educators are supposed to do, and Woodson took that obligation very seriously. He was a Harvard-trained historian who had received his PhD in 1912, and he was also the editor of an educational journal. He believed that Americans of all races and backgrounds needed to know a more complete and more accurate version of history, one that did not arbitrarily exclude minorities and arbitrarily elevate those in the majority. He had seen firsthand the many positive contributions that Black Americans had made, and yet, these contributions weren't studied in school, nor widely known outside the Black community. And he believed it was important for these accomplishments to be known-- especially in a society that was still segregated, where negative stereotypes of Black people were pervasive in the press and in the popular culture.

Over the years, I became fascinated by Black history, as well as with "restorative narratives"-- writing those whose achievements had been unfairly overlooked back into history, telling their stories so that future generations would know what they did. For example, much of my work for SABR (the Society for American Baseball Research) involves researching the Negro Leagues-- the players, the teams, and the sportswriters who covered them. In fact, I just found out that one of my SABR essays was just nominated for an award. As a media historian, I believe it's important for people to know about the talented athletes whose color prevented them from being more famous; and it's equally important to tell the stories of courageous sportswriters who played an important role in bringing about civil rights. Black History Month provided a good reason for me to share their stories with my students, and I have no regrets about doing so.     

But evidently, Black History Month may not be observed for much longer, according to new executive orders from the Trump Administration that forbid anything that (allegedly) promotes DEI-- diversity, equity, and inclusion-- or focuses on "special observances." Some government agencies have already paused their observance of Black History Month, as well as pausing other observances, including Holocaust Remembrance Day and Juneteenth. Supposedly, such observances are divisive, because they "put one group ahead of another."

But is that what's really happening? Does teaching students to remember the Holocaust or to observe Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday really divide us? Does it really teach kids that some groups are special and others are not? Frankly, having been an educator for 4 decades, I see nothing wrong with students learning about the many groups that make up American society. I think it's useful information, plus it's factual. And if setting aside a Day or a Month to encourage that information to be taught is what's needed, then why not keep on doing it?

I'm sorry this president thinks diversity is a bad thing, and I'm sorry he feels the need to make studying Black History (and women's history, and Jewish history, and various other kinds of history) something to be avoided. I am not interested in avoiding facts, however. And I don't want to just remain silent while ways of showing respect for "the other" are erased. I understand that history is often written by the winners. But if we promote a lie, then there are no winners. So, I hope you will join me in preserving the facts about our history and not erasing whatever certain folks find inconvenient. In other words, this is about more than banning Black History Month. It's about allowing bigotry to become the norm once again. And if Carter G. Woodson were still alive, he would beg us to defend the facts. And that is what all of us ought to do.  

Just the Facts, Ma'am

As a professor, I can't count the number of times that students of mine found a quote online and inserted it into their papers. Often, it was a very good quote and it perfectly illustrated the point the student was trying to make. But just as often, the quote was fake-- yes, it was widely accepted and widely posted on sites like Brainy Quotes, but the person never said it. For example, Mahatma Gandhi's famous quote, "Be the change you want to see in the world"-- it's an inspiring quote, but there's no evidence Gandhi said it. Researchers, including my friends at Quote Investigator, have looked for it many times; but the closest they came is this quote from a 1913 essay: "If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him." The shorter, more concise quote seems to have been written by someone else entirely, many years later, and then retroactively attributed to Gandhi.

There are numerous other examples-- and being fooled can happen to anyone: in early January, as the new congress was sworn in, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson offered a prayer that he attributed to Thomas Jefferson. It was a lovely prayer, but there's no evidence the words belonged to Jefferson; in fact, the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, which has access to his writings, notes that the prayer doesn't resemble anything Jefferson ever wrote, nor does it even reflect his beliefs-- he regarded religion as a private matter and it is doubtful he would have composed a public prayer. And yet, many people still attribute the words to Jefferson, including the Speaker. 

What brought this to mind is the decision of social media mogul Mark Zuckerberg to stop doing fact-checking on his platforms because, allegedly, fact-checking is biased. That seems to be an article of faith on the right, and I've heard numerous conservatives accuse the major fact-checking sites of being "liberal," usually after one of Donald Trump's assertions was shown to be untrue. But that doesn't mean fact-checkers are to blame. Politicians from all parties have been known to stretch the truth, exaggerate, lie, and make stuff up. Pointing this out is not proof of bias. And the major fact-checking sites have been quite fair in shining a light on political lies-- whether the person doing the lying is a Republican, a Democrat, or a member of some other political group. 

That's why the Zuckerberg assertion, intended to curry favor with the incoming Trump administration, is so bizarre. Most of the fact-checkers that Meta used were quite non-partisan: some came from the left, some from the center, some from the right, but they all took their work very seriously, and they tried not to impose their views on their fact-checks. Fact-checking is never an easy task, because you are pointing out that someone's favorite politician was dishonest in what he or she said, or someone's favorite motivational quote isn't real. That gets people upset--because folks don't want to accept they've been misinformed about something.

Fact-checking is nothing more than the pursuit of accuracy. It's not always about politics-- many fake quotes are not in any way political. Consider the well-known "Beam Me Up, Scotty," allegedly from the original Star Trek. But while William Shatner's character said something close to it on a couple of occasions, that particular phrase was never said by any character in the series. And that's my point. Facts matter. Why use a quote if the person never actually said it? Why defend "your guy" if what he just said was demonstrably false? And why would anyone think it's okay to spread something that just isn't true?

In his final speech to the nation last night, President Biden closed by saying, "I still believe in the idea for which this nation stands, a nation where the strengths of our institutions and the character of our people matter and must endure. Now it's your turn to stand guard. May you all be the keeper of the flame. May you keep the faith..." I'd like to amend it just slightly: May you all be the keeper of the truth. May you all be faithful to the facts. Because if we don't have faith in what we are being told, if we don't know what is actually and verifiably true, if facts are turned into partisan weapons, how can our democracy endure? So, in this new year, when someone sends you some inflammatory post-- even if it aligns with your personal beliefs-- please don't just "forward this to everyone you know" without first checking to see if what you are sending around is factual. Gandhi may not have said we should be the change, but it's a good idea. Focus on the facts. Just the facts. And no, Sgt. Joe Friday in the original Dragnet television show never said "Just the facts, ma'am." But even back then, he had the right idea.