The New Science of Giving

Like any popular food writer, Gary Taubes gets more than his share of e-mails about his work. So he didn't give it much thought one day two years ago when he got a five-line comment about a podcast he'd given the week before. It was plainly signed "John."

The man was intrigued by Taubes's theories on why people get fat—more specifically, the food writer's argument that most of the science on obesity is either badly flawed or inconclusive. What was needed, Taubes had said, was a comprehensive experiment that can answer some of the key questions about how our bodies process food. The problem is that such a study is hugely expensive. "From the little I know about the science of nutrition, your study makes a lot of sense," the listener wrote, adding that he ran a foundation focused on public policy.

Taubes noticed that the full name in the email was John Arnold, and a quick search turned up a curious figure under that name: a wunderkind natural-gas trader at Enron who later founded his own hedge fund. The fund was secretive—little-known in its hometown, Houston, much less the rest of the country—but legendary in hedge-fund circles for its mega-returns. It was starting to get interesting.

Taubes passed the name onto Peter Attia, a medical doctor with whom he had recently founded a nonprofit focused on nutrition science.
 Attia recalls that when he called to see if he could set up a meeting with Arnold, the response was, "First give us the names of 20 top experts in the field, half of whom think you are crazy." A few weeks later, he found himself in a conference room located just off the trading floor at Arnold's Houston office, during which it became apparent that Arnold and his staff had already spoken with most, if not all, of the experts Attia provided. And something else was apparent: Though boyish and just 37, Arnold was dead serious about launching the obesity study. Indeed, his ambitions couldn't have been higher. He wanted to know if all the best and brightest food scientists got together—and had unlimited resources—what could they accomplish?

Arnold, it turns out, had accumulated a fortune estimated at $4 billion in the past decade—only a handful of people on Wall Street made more during that time. Although he had not yet announced it, Arnold had decided to give almost all of it away. In October 2012, he closed his hedge fund, Centaurus Energy, and retired. In U.S. history, there may have never been a self-made individual with so much money who devoted himself to philanthropy at such a young age. 


But as Taubes and Attia discovered, Arnold and his wife, Laura, have a somewhat unique approach to giving. Most billionaires tend to write checks to good causes they're part of, hospitals where they were treated or universities they attended. These are the so-called "grateful-recipient" donors. Or there are donors who make sizable gifts to meet an obvious need in a community, such as hunger or education. But at a time when charitable giving in the U.S. is still down from its peak in 2007, the Arnolds want to try something new and somewhat grander. John says the goal is to make "transformational" changes to society.

The Arnolds want to see if they can use their money to solve some of the country's biggest problems through data analysis and science, with an unsentimental focus on results and an aversion to feel-good projects—the success of which can't be quantified. No topic is too ambitious: Along with obesity, the Arnolds plan to dig into criminal justice and pension reform, among others. Anne Milgram, the former New Jersey attorney general hired to tackle the criminal-justice issue, has a name for all this: She calls it the "Moneyball" approach to giving, a reference to the book and movie about how the Oakland A's used smart statistical analysis to upend some of baseball's conventional wisdom. And the Arnolds are in no hurry for answers. Indeed, they believe patience is a key resource behind their giving.

Today, the Laura and John Arnold Foundation is bankrolling a $26 million nutrition study by Attia's nonprofit, an effort that involves the use of metabolic chambers and that Attia likes to call "the Manhattan Project of obesity." And that's just part of the splash the foundation is making: Out of virtually nowhere, the couple gave away or pledged $423 million last year, vaulting them to the third-highest givers in the country, according to the latest ranking from The Chronicle of Philanthropy. The Arnolds aren't stopping at research; they're also funding reform efforts that they say align with the findings of their studies—and the political candidates who agree.

But as the Arnolds' profile grows, of course, not everyone is a fan of this science of giving, especially since it comes at a cost to the many individuals and local organizations who need direct help now and could benefit from their billions. The answer to the most asked question may not be known for years: Will their plan work?"

by Brad Reagan, WSJ |  Read more:

Photograph by Henrik Olund; Peter Attia Photographed at Translational Research Institute for Metabolism and Diabete

The Need for Critical Science Journalism

The bulk of contemporary science journalism falls under the category of "infotainment". This expression describes science writing that informs a non-specialist target audience about new scientific discoveries in an entertaining fashion. The "informing" typically consists of giving the reader some historical background surrounding the scientific study, summarises key findings and then describes the significance and implications of the research. Analogies are used to convey complex scientific concepts so that a reader without a professional scientific background can grasp the ideas driving the research.

Direct quotes from the researchers also help illustrate the motivations, relevance, and emotional impact of the findings. The entertainment component varies widely, ranging from an enticing or witty style of writing to the choice of the subject matter. Freaky copulation techniques in the animal kingdom, discoveries that change our views about the beginnings of the universe or of life, heart-warming stories about ailing children that might be cured through new scientific breakthroughs, sci-fi robots, quirky anecdotes or heroic struggles of the scientists involved in the research – these are examples of topics that will capture the imagination of the intended audience.

However, infotainment science journalism rarely challenges the validity of the scientific research study or criticises its conclusions. Perfunctory comments, either by the journalist or in the form of quotes – such as "It is not clear whether these findings will also apply to humans" or "This is just a first step and more research is needed" are usually found at the end of such pieces – but it is rare to find an independent or detailed critical analysis.  (...)

When a scientist is asked to write an editorial about a new scientific paper, she is expected to not only mention the novelty and significance of the paper – there is also an expectation to point out major flaws and limitations, including those that might have been inadequately addressed during the peer review process.

Such an analytical and critical approach can be somewhat antithetical to infotainment science journalism. It is difficult to write an infotainment-style gripping narrative about the discovery of a new protein that acts as a master regulator of ageing if one has to remind the reader that upon critical analysis of the data, the alleged "master regulator" is just one of 20 other proteins that could also be seen as "master regulators" and that there were potential flaws in how cellular ageing was assessed.

Infotainment science journalism will continue to be the dominant form of science writing, because the portrayal of science as an exciting adventure with great promise and few uncertainties is bound to garner a large readership. Hopefully, we will also see a growth in critical and investigative science journalism that critically analyses and challenges scientific studies so that readers can choose from a broad array of science journalism offerings.

To help distinguish between infotainment science journalism and critical science journalism, the reader can evaluate a science news article or blogpost using the following criteria:

by Jalees Rehman, The Guardian |  Read more:

Photo: Radu Razvan/Alamy

Feist

[ed. Full concert, Paris, 2005. Awesome.]

Kinski | Mastroianni (Stay as You Are)
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Teens Are Turning Away from Facebook?

[ed. It doesn't take a lot of insight to realize teenagers will always need a place to hang out away from the prying eyes of adults. The question is where they'll do it. Privacy controls on FB have become too complicated (and FB too complicit in exploiting those complications). Yet, the future of social networking hardly seems (or should be) limited to 140 characters (i.e Twitter), or Tumblr blogs. Kids are smart. They'll figure out what's real and what isn't. In the mean time, one should ask whenever they read articles like this what the motives are for writing such a story (and why such a heavy emphasis on Tumblr?).]

Teenagers really are over Facebook. In February the social network warned investors that "our younger users ... are aware of and actively engaging with other products and services similar to, or as a substitute for, Facebook." And in April the investment bank Piper Jaffray reported that products and services like Tumblr and Twitter were further eroding Facebook's dominance among the Justin Bieber set. But why? In a deep report published on Tuesday, Pew Research explains that teenagers departing the social network's blue confines are looking for something more... real. More authentic. Which, ironically, was the initial draw of Facebook, one of the first social networks to require real names.

Pew shows how Facebook has been slowly colonized by the very forces teens signed up to escape: watchful parents, too-old adults, and "drama" — nasty conversations that would never arise in real life. To contend with these annoying developments, teens aren't deleting their Facebook accounts; they're just using them less and less, spending more time on Twitter and Instagram, where conservations are limited to short-form text, links, and simple photos; or Tumblr, which emphasizes content over consolidated user profiles. Here's how one (anonymous) interviewee put it to Pew during a focus group:

Female (age 15): “I have a Facebook, a Tumblr, and Twitter. I don’t use Facebook or Twitter much. I rather use Tumblr to look for interesting stories. I like Tumblr because I don’t have to present a specific or false image of myself and I don’t have to interact with people I don’t necessarily want to talk to.”  (...)

"Where people post unnecessary pictures and say unnecessary things" is probably not the slogan Facebook was hoping for, especially among such an impressionable demographic. But it's probably music to Marissa Mayer's ears — Yahoo's $1.1 billion deal for Tumblr is being seen as something of a sea change in social media from what The New York Times described in today's paper as a "passive" kind of "social directory," as opposed to, say, Tumblr, one of many sites that have "come up with ways to let people control and generate content and project identity." Because that's, you know, a little bit more real these days.

by J.K. Trotter, Atlantic Wire |  Read more:

Image: Shutterstock

elcafedeloslibres, “Old memories, Collage, 2010”
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Russell Frampton,  Glacial Whistles.
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Annie Lennox

Nothing Funnier Than Unhappiness: Flann O’Brien’s The Poor Mouth

The first time I read it, I was in school, and I remember being confounded by two facts: 1) That it was originally published in 1941 and 2) That it first appeared in Irish as An Béal Bocht. And if there was one thing that was less funny than anything written before, say, 1975, it was anything that was written in Irish.

To fully understand this, I think you would probably need to have some first-hand experience of the Irish educational system. This is a country in which every student between the ages of five and eighteen is taught Irish for several hours a week, and yet it is also, mysteriously, a country in which relatively few adults are capable of holding a conversation in the language in anything but the most stilted, self-consciously ironic pidgin. (After almost a decade and a half of daily instruction in the spoken and written forms of what is officially my country’s first language, just about the only complete Irish sentence I myself can now speak translates as follows: “May I please have permission to go to the toilet, Teacher?” I don’t think I’m especially unusual in this regard, although I’m aware my ability to forget things I’ve learned is exceptional.) I don’t want to get into this too deeply here, except to say that part of this has to do with a kind of morbid cultural circularity: the reason so few people speak Irish outside of classrooms is because so few people speak Irish outside of classrooms, and that there would therefore be few people to speak it to if they did. Also, very little literature gets written in Irish, partly because (for the reasons outlined above), relatively few people are capable of writing it, and also because, if they did, the readership for it would be correspondingly small. And so the stuff that gets taught in schools tends to be a combination of (as I remember it) unremarkable contemporary poetry and psychotropically dull peasant memoir. (...)

For a teenager, of course, the only appropriate reaction to this stuff is the most inappropriate one, somewhere between stupefaction and manic amusement. As real and as comparatively recent as the history of grinding poverty and oppression in Ireland is, it’s still hard to read this with a straight face – particularly if, as a youth, you had to commit great thick blocks of it to memory. There’s something about the improbable combination of sober causality and delirious wretchedness (“As a result of the never-ending flailing of misfortune”; “a case of going from bad to worse”) that comes on like an outright petition for heartless juvenile ridicule. “Nothing is funnier than unhappiness,” as Nell puts it in Beckett’s Endgame. We should take this point seriously, coming as it does from an old woman who has no legs and lives in a dustbin.

Beckett’s contemporary Flann O’Brien understood this, too: unhappiness is the comic goldmine from which he extracts The Poor Mouth’s raw material. He is parodying Irish language books like Peig and, in particular, Tomás Ó Criomhthain’s memoir An t-Oileánach (The Islander); but in a broader sense, he’s ridiculing the forces of cultural nationalism that promoted these books as exemplars of an idealized and essentialized form of Irishness: rural, uneducated, poor, priest-fearing, and truly, superbly Gaelic.

O’Brien’s narrator, Bonaparte O’Coonassa, is not so much a person as a humanoid suffering-receptacle, a cruel reductio ad absurdium of the “noble savage” ideal of rural Irishness promoted by Yeats and the largely Anglo-Irish and Dublin-based literary revival movement. A lot of the book’s funniness comes from its absurdly stiff language (which reflects an equally stiff original Irish), but that language is a perfect means of conveying a drastically overdetermined determinism – a sort of hysterical stoicism which seems characteristically and paradoxically Irish. The book’s comedic logic is roughly as follows: to be Irish is to be poor and miserable, and so anything but the most extreme poverty and misery falls short of authentic Irish experience. The hardship into which Bonaparte is born, out on the desperate western edge of Europe, is seen as neither more nor less than the regrettable but unavoidable condition of Irishness, an accepted fate of boiled potatoes and perpetual rainfall. “It has,” as he puts it, “always been the destiny of the true Gaels (if the books be credible) to live in a small, lime-white house in the corner of the glen as you go eastwards along the road and that must be the explanation that when I reached this life there was no good habitation for me but the reverse in all truth.” (...)

True Irishness is to be found in the constant reflection on the condition of Irishness. (This is still very much a characteristic of contemporary Irish culture, by the way, but that’s probably another day’s work.) O’Brien’s characters think and talk about little else. Bonaparte, at one point, recalls an afternoon when he was “reclining on the rushes in the end of the house considering the ill-luck and evil that had befallen the Gaels (and would always abide with them)” when his grandfather comes in looking even more decrepit and disheveled than usual.

– Welcome, my good man! I said gently, and also may health and longevity be yours! I’ve just been thinking of the pitiable situation of the Gaels at present and also that they’re not all in the same state; I perceive that you yourself are in a worse situation than any Gael since the commencement of Gaelicism. It appears that you’re bereft of vigour? 

– I am, said he. 

– You’re worried? 

– I am. 

– And is it the way, said I, that new hardships and new calamities are in store for the Gaels and a new overthrow is destined for the little green country which is the native land of both of us?

O’Brien uses the term “Gael” and its various derivatives so frequently throughout the book that the very idea of “Gaelicism” quickly begins to look like the absurdity it is. This reaches a bizarre culmination in the book’s central comic set-piece, where Bonaparte recalls a Feis(festival of Gaelic language and culture) organized by his grandfather to raise money for an Irish-speaking university. The festival is, naturally, an exhaustively miserable affair, characterized by extremes of hunger and incredibly shit weather. (“The morning of the feis,” Bonaparte recalls, “was cold and stormy without halt or respite from the nocturnal downpour. We had all arisen at cockcrow and had partaken of potatoes before daybreak.”) Some random Gael is elected President of the Feis, and opens the whole wretched observance with a speech of near perfectly insular Gaelicism:

If we’re truly Gaelic, we must constantly discuss the question of the Gaelic revival and the question of Gaelicism. There is no use in having Gaelic, if we converse in it on non-Gaelic topics. He who speaks Gaelic but fails to discuss the language question is not truly Gaelic in his heart; such conduct is of no benefit to Gaelicism because he only jeers at Gaelic and reviles the Gaels. There is nothing in this life so nice and so Gaelic as truly true Gaelic Gaels who speak in true Gaelic Gaelic about the truly Gaelic language.

This is followed by more speeches of equal or greater Gaelicism, to the point where a number of Gaels “collapsed from hunger and from the strain of listening while one fellow died most Gaelically in the midst of the assembly.” From a combination of malnutrition and exhaustion, several more lives are lost in the dancing that follows.

by Mark O'Connell, The Millions |  Read more:
Image: The Millions

Elastica

Nate Burbeck, Deuel County, Neb., Oil on Canvas, 20 x 32 inches, 2013
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Luna Lee

[ed. Here's another amazing performance on the guzheng, very similar to the gayageum: Gorillaz - Hong Kong (Demon Days Live)]

At first, traditional Korean musician Luna Lee was like most others. She never associated the gayageum, a twelve-string instrument used for royal court music, with the guitar, let alone the electrified riffs of Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan.

Then a friend turned her on to the blues.

Since then, the young musician has surprised the world with jaw-dropping performances of iconic Hendrix tunes and other songs, putting a hip spin on the old instrument, which is often compared to a zither.

In March, her version of Hendrix’s “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)” went viral after it was detected by Internet sites such as Reddit and publications such as Guitar World. Over 2 million YouTube hits later, Lee says the response will spur her efforts to keep the gayageum relevant.

“I’m so appreciative for all the feedback from around the world,” she said in an interview near Hongik University in Seoul. “It makes me want to try harder.”

Lee, who graduated from the Korean National University of Arts several years ago, began experimenting with the blues after a guitarist friend introduced her to “Tender Surrender,” one of Vaughan’s best-known songs.

“Before that I didn’t know much about guitar or band music. But listening to it made me realize that the gayageum is similar to the guitar and can blend well with guitar music,” she said.

“Gayageum has a technique called nong-hyun, which is quite similar to bending on the guitar. But nong-hyun can go further — it really has a dynamic range. This makes the gayageum perfect for playing the blues.”

Korean traditional instruments can hit certain pitches that “cannot be defined in Western scales,” Lee added, allowing her to catch all the nuances of blues guitar.

by Kim Young-jin, Korea Times |  Read more:

Profiling Is Great ... Except When You Do It to Me

Pretend you work at the Internal Revenue Service. Actually, let’s make this exercise even more terrible. Pretend you’re an underpaid, low-level clerk working in the understaffed IRS backwater of Cincinnati. Every day, a big stack of files lands on your desk. Every day, the stack gets a little bigger than the last. Each file represents a new application for a certain tax status—501(c)(4), a tax-exempt designation meant for “social welfare” organizations. Nonprofits with this status aren’t required to disclose the identity of their donors and they’re allowed to lobby legislative officials. The catch is that they must limit their political campaign activity. According to IRS rules, 501(c)(4) groups can participate in elections, but electioneering must not be their “primary” mission.

Got all that? Good—now let’s get to work. It’s your job to decide which 501(c)(4) applications represent legitimate social-welfare organizations, and which ones are from groups trying to hide their campaign activities. What’s more, you’ve got to sort the good from the bad very quickly, as you’re being inundated with applications. In 2010, your office received 1,735 applications for 501(c)(4) status. In 2011, the number jumped 30 percent, to 2,265, and in 2012 there was another 50 percent spike, this time to 3,357 applications.

So what do you do? You look for a shortcut. Someone at your office notices that a lot of the applications for 501(c)(4) status are from groups that claim to be part of the burgeoning Tea Party movement. Aha! When you’re looking for signs of political activity, wouldn’t it make sense to search for criteria related to the largest new political movement of our times? So that’s what you do: Without consulting senior managers, you and your colleagues set up a spreadsheet called “Be on the Lookout,” or BOLO, which spells out specific criteria for flagging potentially politically active groups. The spreadsheet lists keywords like “Tea Party,” “Patriots,” and “9/12 Project.” It also flags groups whose primary concerns are government spending, debt, and taxes, that criticize how the country is being run, or that advocate policies that seek to “make America a better place to live.”

We’ll get to whether this was right or wrong in a bit. For now, let’s note that there’s a name for the kind of shortcut that the IRS’s Cincinnati office used to pick out applications for greater scrutiny: “profiling.” By using superficial characteristics—groups’ names or mission statements—to determine whether they should be subject to deeper investigation, the IRS was acting like the TSA agent who pulls aside the guy in the turban, or the FBI agents that target mosques when investigating terrorism, or New York City cops who stop and frisk young black males in an effort to prevent crime.

All these efforts rely on the same intellectual justification—looking at surface characteristics makes sense because they’re a potential signal of deeper activity, whether it’s terrorism or crime or electioneering. As a right-wing blogger might say, “Not all Muslims are terrorists—but most terrorists are Muslims.” If you believe that, doesn’t it make sense to focus on Muslims when you’re fighting terrorism? Take it away, Michelle Malkin: “Where else are federal agents supposed to turn for help in uncovering terrorist plots by Islamic fanatics: Buddhist temples? Knights of Columbus meetings? Amish neighborhoods?”

That’s exactly what the IRS was doing with Tea Party groups. Not all Tea Party groups applying for 501(c)(4) status were engaged in campaign politics. But out of all the many groups that applied for such status, wouldn’t any reasonable person guess that a group called “Tea Party Patriots” is more likely to be engaged in campaign activity than, say, a group focused on rescuing abandoned puppies?

The deep irony of the IRS scandal is that people on the political right are being subjected to exactly the kind of profiling that they’ve long advocated in fighting terrorism and crime—and they don’t seem to appreciate it. I’m on their side: This case perfectly illustrates why profiling is wrong—why it’s inefficient, ineffective, and morally dubious. The IRS scandal should thus be a lesson to anyone who’s called for any kind of profiling, whether it’s racial, religious, or political. If you believe it was wrong for the government to single out certain groups just because of their names, then you’re really arguing that government officials should look for deeper characteristics when deciding whom to investigate. If you don’t like what happened at the IRS, then, you’re arguing that profiling is bad policy.

by Farhad Manjoo, Slate |  Read more:

Photo by Jonathan Ernst/Reuters

Unexcited? There May Be a Pill for That

Half a century ago, the birth-control pill offered women the ability to switch off ovulation, to separate sex from reproduction. It played a part, as the ‘60s got under way, in propelling a host of profound changes, cultural as well as reproductive, societal as well as intimate — in how women saw themselves and lived their lives, starting with the notion of women being above all baby makers and mothers. The promise of Lybrido and of a similar medication called Lybridos, which Tuiten also has in trials, or of whatever chemical finally wins the race for F.D.A. approval, is that it will be possible to take a next step, to give women the power to switch on lust, to free desire from the obstacles that get in its way. “Female Viagra” is the way drugs like Lybrido and Lybridos tend to be discussed. But this is a misconception. Viagra meddles with the arteries; it causes physical shifts that allow the penis to rise. A female-desire drug would be something else. It would adjust the primal and executive regions of the brain. It would reach into the psyche.

Beckoned by ads on the radio and in newspapers and on Craigslist, in the fall of 2011 women across America began applying to be among the 420 subjects in the Lybrido and Lybridos studies. Plenty were turned away when the trials filled. Lack of lust, when it creates emotional distress, meets the psychiatric profession’s clinical criteria for H.S.D.D., or hypoactive sexual-desire disorder. Researchers have set its prevalence among women between the ages of about 20 and 60 at between 10 and 15 percent. When you count the women who don’t quite meet the elaborate clinical threshold, the rate rises to around 30 percent. For a minor fraction of all the sexually indifferent (or repelled), the condition has been lifelong, regardless of whom they’re with or how long they’ve been with them. For middle-aged or older women, menopause and its aftermath may play a role, though its importance is much debated. For a sizable segment of the undesiring, the most common antidepressants, the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, can be the culprit. Millions of American women are on S.S.R.I.'s, and many of them would have good use for a pill to revive the libido that has been chemically dulled as a side effect of the pill they take to buoy their mood.

But for many women, the cause of their sexual malaise appears to be monogamy itself. It is women much more than men who have H.S.D.D., who don’t feel heat for their steady partners. Evolutionary psychologists argue that this comes down to innate biology, that men are just made with stronger sex drives — so men will settle for the woman who’s always near. But the evidence for an inborn disparity in sexual motivation is debatable. A meta-analysis done by the psychologists Janet Hyde and Jennifer L. Petersen at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, incorporates more than 800 studies conducted between 1993 and 2007. It suggests that the very statistics evolutionary psychologists use to prove innate difference — like number of sexual partners or rates of masturbation — are heavily influenced by culture. All scientists really know is that the disparity in desire exists, at least after a relationship has lasted a while.

Dietrich Klusmann, a psychologist at the University of Hamburg-Eppendorf in Germany, has provided a glimpse into the bedrooms of longtime couples. His surveys, involving a total of almost 2,500 subjects, comprise one of the few systematic comparisons of female and male desire at progressive stages of committed relationships. He shows women and men in new relationships reporting, on average, more or less equal lust for each other. But for women who’ve been with their partners between one and four years, a dive begins — and continues, leaving male desire far higher. (Within this plunge, there is a notable pattern: over time, women who don’t live with their partners retain their desire much more than women who do.)

Lesbian couples seem to fare no better, and maybe worse, in keeping their sexual ardor for each other. The term “lesbian bed death,” coined by the University of Washington sociologist Pepper Schwartz in the ‘80s, has been critiqued as overstatement but not quite as fiction. “In the lesbian community, the monogamy problem is being aired more and more,” Lisa Diamond, a professor of psychology and gender studies at the University of Utah, told me. “For years, gay men have been making open arrangements for sex outside the couple. Now, increasingly, gay women are doing it.”

Klusmann’s results are echoed by Lori Brotto, a psychologist at the University of British Columbia who has worked clinically with scores of H.S.D.D. patients and who recently led the American Psychiatric Association’s attempt to better delineate the condition in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. (H.S.D.D. is being reconceived as sexual interest/arousal disorder, S.I.A.D.) “The impact of relationship duration is something that comes up constantly,” she told me about her therapy sessions. “Sometimes I wonder whether it” — H.S.D.D. — “isn’t so much about libido as it is about boredom.”

But desire resists comprehension. Whether it is mainly a raw drive or a complex emotion is a question that has bedeviled psychiatry for decades. And the fading of desire can seem impossibly intricate. Is it a result of a lack of intimacy or its cause? One theory holds that it’s a challenge for both sexes to maintain passion over the long-term because it’s threatening to desire the same person from whom we seek security and true understanding. It leaves us feeling too vulnerable. As Stephen A. Mitchell, one of the leaders of relational psychoanalysis, described it: “Sustaining desire for something important from someone important is the central danger of emotional life. What is so dangerous about desiring someone you have is that you can lose him or her.” Mitchell argued that ultimately the emotional meshing and vulnerability of committed relationships can become the most rewarding source of eros. Esther Perel, a couples therapist and author of “Mating in Captivity,” emphasizes a separateness at the heart of longstanding passion. “Many couples confuse love with merging,” she writes. “This mix-up is a bad omen for sex. To sustain élan toward the other, there must be a synapse to cross. Eroticism requires distance.”

“What protects desire in monogamous partnerships is a great empirical question,” Brotto said. “I don’t think there have been any good studies.”

Brotto, who is married and has three children, went on: “I’m a woman in a long-term monogamous relationship. I myself have felt firsthand very high passionate desire, which then wanes. I can relate to my patients completely.” Sometimes she discusses the option of open relationships. But even to contemplate this alternative is to ignite fears in both women and men, and those override the pining for lust.

How much easier it would be if we could solve the insoluble by getting a prescription, stopping off at the drugstore and swallowing a pill.

by Daniel Bergner, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Jake Chessum for The New York Times

Zach Collins, “Untitled”.
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Swiss Army Key Ring

[ed. If you've got a little time on your hands and want to make life a bit more... orderly, check this out.]

Most people have to keep track of at least a few keys. The easiest way to do that is to just keep them all on one key ring. But the more keys that you have, the more they fan out on the ring. If you have a lot of keys, then your key ring can get pretty bulky and impractical to carry in your pocket. Here is an alternate design for holding and organizing your keys that is a little more efficient.

The design of this key holder is very similar in construction to a Swiss Army Knife. The keys are arranged on two parallel bars. Each key can be rotated into the handle for compact storage and rotated back out for use. So here is how to make a Swiss Army Key Ring.

by David Pescovitz, Boing Boing | Read more:

Facebook, One Year Later: What Really Happened in the Biggest IPO Flop Ever

After Facebook's disastrous debut, the preferred clients of big banks walked away with huge profits. How? Public documents and interviews with dozens of investment bankers and research analysts reveal that the Street caught wind of something the public didn't. The social network and the banks told half the story. Here is the other half.

Uma Swaminathan tuned the television set in the living room of her ranch style home in the suburbs of East Brunswick, N.J. to CNBC. It was 9:00 a.m. on May 18, 2012, a day the retired schoolteacher thought might make her rich. She logged onto her Vanguard brokerage account on her computer and placed an order for 5,000 shares of Facebook at $42 a share.

On TV, wearing his trademark hoodie, 28-year-old Mark Zuckerberg, creator of the world's largest social networking site, stood in the courtyard of Facebook headquarters in Menlo Park, California. A crowd of eager Facebook employees held up company license plates and posters for the cameras. They'd stayed up all night at an employee "hack-a-thon" to celebrate the big day when Facebook was finally going public, in what might have been the most anticipated initial public offering in history. The boyish, blue-eyed Zuckerberg grinned, standing next to Bob Greifeld, chief executive of Nasdaq-OMX Stock Market, Inc., the largest electronic stock exchange in the United States.

With short hair, brown skin, and few wrinkles, Swaminathan looks much younger than her 68 years. She spent most of adult life as a suburban mom, making tofu for her daughter's friends at theater rehearsals, taking her three sons to soccer practice and Boy Scouts, and volunteering in the local community. She served a term as president of the Indian American Association of New Jersey.

Her interest in the stock market didn't develop until her husband died about 13 years ago. Her four children had already moved out to attend college or to pursue their careers. Swaminathan was left with her late husband's 401(k) retirement account, when she started dabbling in the market, investing in stable companies like Microsoft. Not long after, she began to follow the news coverage of initial public offerings (IPOs) -- when private companies enter the public market -- and came to know of the phenomenon known as the first day "pop." On the day that companies would debut on the stock market, the price would tend to shoot up before stabilizing. A year earlier, she watched as social networking site LinkedIn's stock price closed up 109 percent on its opening day.

She'd never placed such a big bet on just one stock, but she felt a personal connection to Facebook. She had been using the site to connect with family and friends since 2009, and almost everyone she knew had an account.

Now, as she watched the TV in eager anticipation, millions of shares were going to leave the hands of private investors and start trading, giving anyone with enough money a chance to own a slice of the social network giant. Silence descended as Zuckerberg came forward to deliver his speech: "I just want to say a few things, and then we'll ring this bell and we'll get back to work. Right now this all seems like a big deal. Going public is an important milestone in our history. But here's the thing: our mission isn't to be a public company. Our mission is to make the world more open and connected..."

Finally he reached the moment so many were waiting for: "So let's do this!" And the opening bell sounded as he signed the digital screen on the podium before him: "To a more open and connected world," he wrote. His handwritten message instantaneously appeared in Times Square just above the giant illuminated NASDAQ exchange ticker.

Facebook shares hit the market at an opening price of $38. Minutes later, Swaminathan's online order was executed, and the retired schoolteacher had just spent approximately half her life savings.

I: THE OFFERING

For Mark Zuckerberg, selling Facebook shares on the public market had a clear downside. Besides the headache of releasing a company's financial details to the public, he worried that increased scrutiny and push for profits would compromise Facebook's mission.

But like any growth-stage company, Facebook needed money, and private companies face restrictions on how much stock they can issue for cash. In early 2011, Goldman Sachs helped Facebook conjure IPO-type money without an actual IPO by creating a special investment product to sell its private shares to Goldman's wealthiest clients. But when the New York Times exposed the plan, the SEC began to investigate the transaction. Soon after, Zuckerberg decided to take the company public. In late 2011, the Wall Street Journal reported that Facebook was anticipating an IPO valuation of $100 billion -- nearly four times more than Google's market cap when it went public in 2004.

On February 1, 2012, Facebook filed its Form S-1 -- effectively a birth certificate for publicly traded companies -- containing everything an investor needs to know before buying shares at an IPO, including basic financial information and the business model. Facebook's S-1 showed that the company was primarily in the display-advertising business, with a net profit of $1 billion in 2011 from total revenue of $3.7 billion.

The S-1 is especially meaningful to investment banks. Facebook listed its underwriters -- the banks picked to buy and sell shares on the IPO -- near the front of the document, from left to right, in order of responsibility, with Morgan Stanley in the coveted "left lead" position.

This put Facebook's IPO in the hands of one of Silicon Valley's most celebrated bankers: Michael Grimes, co-head of global technology banking at Morgan Stanley's Menlo Park office, located just a few miles north of Facebook's headquarters.

by Khadeeja Safdar, The Atlantic |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

How to Buy Happiness

If experiences increase happiness and giving increases happiness, can we combine them to create the perfect happiness intervention? We tried this in a recent experiment, in which we handed out Starbucks gift cards on a university campus.

We told some people to head to Starbucks and buy something for themselves. We told others to pass their gift card along to someone else. And we told a third group of people to use the gift card to buy something for someone else — with the additional requirement that they actually hang out with that person at Starbucks.

Who was happiest? Those who treated someone else and shared in that experience with them. So the cost of increasing your happiness may be as cheap as two cups of coffee.

Taken together, the new science of spending points to a surprising conclusion: How we use our money may matter as much or more than how much of it we've got. Which means that rather than waiting to see whether you find $1 million under your mattress tomorrow, you can make yourself happier today. Switching your spending to buying experiences — for both yourself and others — can lead to more happiness than even the most amazingly Amazonian rain shower.

by Elizabeth Dunn and Michael Norton, LA Times | Read more:
Image: Anthony Russo / For The Times

Argument with Myself

Memory creates our identity, but it also exposes the illusion of a coherent self: a memory is not a thing but an act that alters and rearranges even as it retrieves. Although some of its operations can be trained to an astonishing pitch, most take place autonomously, beyond the reach of the conscious mind. As we age, it distorts and foreshortens: present experience becomes harder to impress on the mind, and the long-forgotten past seems to draw closer; University Challenge gets easier, remembering what you came downstairs for gets harder. Yet if we were somehow to freeze our memory at the youthful peak of its powers, around our late twenties, we would not create a polished version of ourselves analogous to a youthful body, but an early, scrappy draft composed of childhood memories and school-learning, barely recognisable to our older selves.

Something like this happened to the most famous case of amnesia in 20th-century science, a man known only as ‘H.M.’ until his death in 2008. When he was 27, a disastrous brain operation destroyed his ability to form new memories, and he lived for the next 55 years in a rolling thirty-second loop of awareness, a ‘permanent present tense’. During this time he was subjected to thousands of hours of tests, of which naturally he had no recall; he provided data for hundreds of scientific papers, and became the subject of a book (Memory’s Ghost by Philip Hilts) and a staple of popular science journalism; by the 1990s digital images of his uniquely disfigured hippocampus featured in almost every standard work on the neuroscience of memory. Since his death his brain has been shaved into 2401 slices, each 70 microns thick, compared in one account to the slivers of ginger served with sushi. Suzanne Corkin, an MIT neuroscientist, first met him in 1962 and after 1980 became his lead investigator and ‘sole keeper’. Permanent Present Tense is her account of Henry Gustave Molaison – his full identity can finally be revealed – and the historic contribution he made to science.

Corkin had a reputation for strict policing of access to Henry, a charge she happily concedes: ‘I did not want him to become a sideshow attraction – the man without a memory.’ After the death of his mother, his last thirty years were spent at a Connecticut nursing home in strict anonymity, with staff sworn to secrecy and filming prohibited. More than a hundred carefully screened researchers were admitted over the years to perform brain scans and cognitive tests, but were never told his name. Corkin’s lucid, well-organised telling of Henry’s story merges intimate case history with an account of the current scientific understanding and how it was reached.

Henry’s surgery was undertaken in an era of freewheeling experiment in pursuit of the idea that memories were indelible snapshots of sense experience, stored in chronological sequence like the frames of a celluloid film. Over the course of his decades as a test subject, the field was colonised by information theory, the processes of memory divided like those of a computer into encoding, storage and retrieval. Now the post-mortem scanning and mapping of Henry’s brain is exposing the artificiality of these divisions and revealing complexities that no computer can emulate.

by Mike Jay, London Review of Books |  Read more:

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Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt , by Steven Klein.
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