Ayn Rand and Spinoza

I’ve intended for quite a while to write a blog explaining my understanding of the writings of Ms Ayn Rand. I read all her work several decades ago, named my daughter Dagny Ayn (after her and the heroine of Atlas Shrugged), and remain an admirer. At first, five decades ago, I was more than a mere admirer; I was a true believer who saw in her work an unvarnished picture of the way the world really is. Over the years my view has matured, and the following represents my mature thoughts.

Those Libertarians who read her work as if it presented a philosophical system in the classical sense have missed her point entirely (and maybe she did too, as some of her essays seem to indicate). At the core of her work is the notion that the quality of the world (as defined by humans) lies nowhere but in the quality of its people. She and I and Spinoza regard this as an axiom that does not need proof.

The world (as seen by human beings) is determined to be what it is by the unchanging laws of nature. But the face the world shows us is forever changing. The human brain, considered as an objective "thing," also operates in accord with unchanging laws. But our species -- no more than the collection of all rivers -- is not a homogeneous assemblage of like-minded things. Although the body parts -- including the brains -- of every human work in accord with unchanging laws, the values taken by the neural structure of each one of us is determined individually by our experience in the world.

Compare this to a computer's memory. As they come off the assembly line, all the memory chips look exactly alike, and as parts of the whole mechanism they all operate in accord with the same physical principles. But as the computers begin to be used, their individuality becomes manifest. The same memory location in computers of the same design will no longer be identical, They will be encoded with electrical impulses representing words and other symbols that will vary from machine to machine. So also do the memory functions of human brains contain (in a so far undecipherable code) different symbols, and some of those symbols, when brought into play in human behavior, function as human values, the actual determinants of the way we shall behave in reaction to the world.

Ms Rand was writing about those memories we refer to as values.

Before getting further into her "people" we must acknowledge and understand the difference between egoism and egotism. All of us, according to Spinoza and Ayn Rand, are egoists. Spinoza expressed our egoism by the Latin word conatus, by which he referred to the propensity of all things to perpetuate themselves in being. Note, all things, not just human beings. The very nature of the smallest atom and the largest star (and everthing in between) acts in such a way that the object will remain what it is until it is acted upon by a more powerful object. Human "objects," unlike most others, are aware of their desire to perpetuate themselves in being, so unlike those that are unaware, humans take actions that they perceive to be in the direction of their preservation. That is the nature of us all, and that is what Ms. Rand (and Spinoza) meant by the word "egoist."

An egotist, on the contrary, is an egoist who has a limited view of what it takes to survive in the world as a functional being (i.e., what it takes to be happy). He sees himself as a more or less isolated creature whose ego. along with all its values, whether good, bad, or evil, must be preserved. The egotist is an unenlightened egoist.

All the main characters in Ms. Rand's major books were intentionally written as caricatures of various qualities that occur in human beings, some of which are good, some bad, some downright evil. Some of those characters have been seen as representatives of the "Supreme Egoist," and in my opinion, some of them were. But the supreme egoist was not, as some imagine, neither John Galt (in Atlas Shrugged) nor Howard Roark (in The Fountainhead). The Supreme Egoist is a person who is equally capable of being a leader and of being led. He is just as physically alone in the world as are all of us, but he has spiritually bridged the gap between himself and others and has managed to view the world and all that's in it as an integrated whole, a One, a naturally adapted organism.

The principal characters in Ms Rand's books do not represent ideal versions of humanity, but rather ideal representations of specific human qualities. The best (but not only) example of this sort of being appears as the riveter, a minor character in "The Fountainhead." He comes as close to perfection as can be imagined. He's great at his work (delivering 8 hours of devoted work for 8 hours pay), loyal to his friends, and not overly consumed with himself. When we observe the riveter pitching a rivet with complete awareness of the importance of what he's doing, we may have difficulty seeing his action as an expression of his commitment to excellence. And even when we analytically resolve his perfection, seeing it as an expression of, say, his "upbringing" or his "morals" we miss the point. The characteristics Ms Rand gave him express everything he is (or better, has become). He is an effect of all that appears in his "driving" device, his very human brain.

And this is the element of her philosophy that Ms Rand left unexplored (and which I suspect she was incapable of exploring in herself). It remains much easier for her readers to fall into the traps of Objectivism, much easier to wind up believing that human qualities can be observed, much in the same way we observe the qualities of, say, a good poem. Just as the poem seems to be an object that can be objectively assessed, but that is a deception. Its authentic quality lies in the fact that it is an artifact of a human mind. As such it cannot be separated from the human being who created it, and he or she is a product of his or her whole experience in the world. (Note this well, since it follows that as more and more human beings become more adequately adapted to the authentic whole, the easier it will be for the rest also to adapt -- i.e., to find enlightenment.)

Literary deconstructionists go a step further in understanding the objects of their study, but they still, with all their cleverness, are unable to get their minds around the process that generated the work. The ideas the poet expresses in his work may be objectively studied and placed alongside similar ideas spoken of by other poets, but each poet's mind remains unique. As academics we may place this or that poet in a taxonomy of so-called cultural categories, but however much we may feel we understand the man by an observation of his work (and the similar work of others), we are still blind to the interacting content of the mind.

Now, when we look at the human world and see it as something akin to a work of art, we are apt to take the same sort of easy path, thinking that by making superficial judgments of the quality and character of the players we can understand the thing itself -- the uniquiness of all thinking and interacting things. But the human world is an effect of "human action" and human actions are effects of the undecipherable array of causes we euphemistically refer to as the human brain. Even if by some inspired leap of our science we are able to comprehend the workings of a generic brain, we will still not understand any particular brain, much less the multiplicity of brains that abide in the six-billion of us.

And that is why literature such as that produced by Ms Rand serves a useful (although limited) function. In her characters she has depicted the constituent parts of the non-objective world. As such, they can be viewed as models of how the ideal human should behave. But if for instance, we observe the quality of "productiveness" and think of it as a quality we ought to emulate, and make the mistake of thinking that productiveness is the end-all of human virtue, we will be mistaken. In the famous John Galt radio address Ms Rand identifies many other qualities besides productiveness. To emulate each of these, as if it were an isolated model, is a virtual impossibility. When correctly considered, they appear as undifferentiated aspects of the human spirit, as inseparable elements of the integrated whole that is reflected in the being-ness of the individual human brain. We act out of the whole, not out of the part . . . and the whole cannot be objectified as anything other than a poorly defined taxonomy that represents but does not define the human mind.

The human condition comes about as a pseudo-parallel, interactive effect of variously "configured" human minds. As such it is essentially incomprehensible. We make sense of it -- to the extent that we can -- by giving names to objectively observable categories of human action. We use the names Ms Rand and many others have given to our virtues and our sins. And when we do it right, we base our collective management (our governments) on the virtues while eshewing the sins. But the government that functions best is the one that recognizes the existential nature of the people being governed, all of which are essentially different.

Consequently, the basic principle incorporated in the most perfect government acknowledges and protects the fundamental freedom of all its subjects to remain, to the greatest extent possible, what they are. The differences among us cannot all be accommodated in the man-made laws of the land, so it is incumbent on the leadership to instantiate and "act out" those ideals that most conform to the taxonomy of values that perpetuate the nation and its inhabitants in their being. Identifying and expressing those ideals is the job of the "riveters" among us who are most capable of communicating the beneficence of the nation's ideals. As individuals, we each ought to lead ourselves and be led by our frail grasp of the goodnesses reflected in the qualities Ms Rand has laid out. In that sense, her work deals with ethics.

In Ms Rand's books and in reality, the individual is paramount, not only to him- or herself, but to the functional whole which is the world we make. The true believers who have made Ms Rand into an icon to be worshiped have made the same mistake she apparently made in her own life. They have let their egotism lead the egoism. The result is a caricature of what a human being actually is.

Are We Truly Free?

I mean by this, "Are we free to loosen the restraints imposed by our liberty?" If this sounds like double talk, scroll down and reread my blog on the difference between freedom and liberty. (A brief refresher: The former is what we are naturally born with, the latter what we have left after we bargain away some of our freedom.) Every law imposed by every government limits the freedom of the governed. Thus, every government, whether democratic or despotic, limits our freedom to some extent.

However, only in (small "d") democratic governments can the degree of our freedom be said to have been negotiated by the interaction of the people and their government. Even in a republic, where the people delegate their law-making power to legislators and executives, the people are ultimately "in charge," since they can remove from power those they have put in power.

But in this country the process of removing elected officials from office is doggedly slow, two years being the shortest period that must elapse before a "hired hand" can legally be fired. Given the speed at which the modern world changes, much discomfort may ensue before we are able to deprive the guilty parties of their power.

The Founders were well aware of the weakness they were building into the new constitution, but to be honest, they were more concerned with the intelligence of the people (who were ultimately to be in charge) than they were with the qualifications of the elected officials. Aside from setting certain age and (in some cases) citizenship requirements, they were of the opinion that even if the legislators and executives were somewhat less than perfect, their shortcomings would still offer a better alternative than entrusting the government directly to the people.

A much longer article than I intend to write would be needed to outline the various arguments offered pro and con by the delegates to the Constitutional Convention in 1787. The terms "federalist" and "anti-federalist" came out of that debate, with the federalists favoring the strong central government that finally won the day. The anti-federalists, led by George Mason and Patrick Henry, were concerned that the Constitution, as drafted, was silent on the matter of civil rights. Madison, the pro forma leader of the federalists, was finally persuaded (by a Baptist minister) of the need for a Bill of Rights, and in his capacity as a member of the first House of Representatives, led the fight to draft and ratify the first ten constitutional amendments.

Taken as a whole, the amended Constitution can be understood to establish a relationship between the people and their elected representatives. I will henceforth refer to the latter as "the government," but bear in mind, the government remains an elite group of real people. The government thus exists as flesh and blood, whereas the laws enacted by the government exist as a set of ideas. It is in the light of that difference that I have asked the question that appears as the title of this piece: "Are we truly free?"

That is, given that the ideas embodied in our laws have been finely woven into the very fabric of our nation and its culture, can we actually change our minds about them? Do we still have enough residual freedom to undo in our minds some of the most fundamental ideas that bind us as a people?

These questions have come to the fore in the current government's struggle with the financial crisis. When the government, empowered by due process of law, decided to purchase stock in several large corporations, the people (actually, the press and certain campaigning politicians) accused the government of socialism, implying that socialism was somehow not legal in this country. And indeed, pure socialism, in which the government is the de facto and de jure owner of all property is indirectly forbidden by the Fifth Amendment: ". . . nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation." While it is conceivable that the government could purchase on the open market a controlling interest in corporations, the price paid being by definition a "just compensation," I do not imagine that such an arrangement would last unless the people were convinced that the government's actions were good. Nevertheless, it does not appear on the surface that the government is constitutionally restrained from purchasing stock in private corporations.

The question of whether they should or not gets to the heart of the question. An aversion to socialism exists de facto in the hearts and minds of the majority of the American people. But if that aversion were mitigated by circumstances such as arose in the Great Depression and as loom in the current situation, if in fact the people were to come to believe that true socialism (as opposed to regulated capitalism) were desirable, could the will of the people override the will of the government?

The phrase "the will of the people" begs for an explanation. Obviously, if all the people were of the same opinion regarding a move to a socialist economy, the question would be settled. The question remains arguable in view of the fact that the people almost certainly would not be of the same will. We would expect that those whose property would be taken by "just compensation" might be averse to the deal. But of more vital importance are the intellectual questions that would certainly arise in the minds of those who, having no horse in the race, would nevertheless regard socialism as a bad idea.

This gets to the heart of the conflict the Founders dealt with (and reluctantly compromised on) in 1787. A majority of the people may desire what a minority may regard as economic suicide. The opposite might also be the case, the majority favoring the status quo, the minority favoring change.

As ordinary as this disagreement may seem, the question would, in all likelihood, not be resolved by anything resembling intelligent discussion. It would be settled politically. The opposing cases might very well be presented to the people by intelligent commentators, say, George Will for the capitalist system, a resurrected Walter Lippman arguing for socialism. But unless the Founders were wrong about the sanity of the people, even if the cases were widely and fairly publicized, the masses would not be swayed by the logic of the arguments but rather by emotional appeals to their uninformed and perhaps misunderstood self interest.

Foremost among the forces that passes itself off as "self interest" is the desire of the people to continue along the path set for them by their inherited culture. Thinking is hard. Going along is easy.

These truisms do not hold when the pain being inflicted by the "way we were" becomes intense. Joseph Conrad observed that "No fear can stand up to hunger." He was referring to the fear of cannibalism, but he might as well have (and may have in fact) meant the fear of a radical breaking away from deeply held inherited beliefs.

But neither the pain of radical change nor the pleasures of "togetherness" qualifies as an intellectual argument. They both represent emotional appeals. Unfortunately, in the mind they share mental space with logical argument. Hormones and neurons are two inter-related residents in the same cranium. Out of the cerebral admixture of thought and emotion come the ideas that determine action.

At least one of the Founders (Madison) viewed the mind in this Spinozistic way, and perhaps it was this view that led him to his Platonic distrust of the people. I do not know whether Madison or any of the Founders knew of the paradox they had designed into the Constitution, where the people elect clever men whose highest claim to cleverness lies in their ability to convince people of their cleverness. If we argue that their cleverness lies in their ability to reason with the people, then that implies that the people are reason-able. But if the people are reason-able, then they would not need to surrender their freedom to a "wiser" elite.

I personally believe that socialism is a bad idea, and that regulated capitalism is the best of the bad choices available to us. But if you were to ask me to defend my belief in a way that would have a chance of being accepted by "the people," I would find myself writing emotional appeals and couching them in high-sounding words like the ones you have just read. (My conscience dictated that I say that.) I would be a politician.

There is an answer to the question I asked, but I am under no illusion that the answer would appeal to everyone. The answer is simply this: "Yes, we are truly free." And in our freedom lies the uncomfortable fact that we have created the mess we now find so painful. If we seek to exonerate ourselves personally from the ill effects of our economic miseries, then let us confess to having not thought too well before we delegated our freedom to men who were not quite up to the job we hired them to perform.

It works better, however, if we forget that argument and take personal responsibility. To act otherwise is to admit that we are a member of that ignorant "confederacy of dunces" the Founders took us to be. Better to admit to a mistake than to pretend that we are powerless to act.

The Difference Between "Freedom" and "Liberty"

[I'm reasonably certain that I blogged the following two paragraphs over a year ago. They may have been part of a much longer statement. I'm too lazy to search out the previous writing. I find it necessary to republish these few words in order to make sure the ground is laid for my next blog, which I will publish either tomorrow or the next day.]

A part of our misunderstanding of what it means to be free arises from our misuse of the words “freedom” and “liberty.” They are not the same. Freedom is natural, a quantity closely related to our natural power. The abilities nature has given us determine the amount of freedom we have. We can do what we have the power to do, and we cannot do what our nature forbids. All of us have a measure of freedom and to the extent we use all of our freedom to satisfy our needs and desires, we have lived life to the utmost.

Liberty is a different matter. It can be defined as the reciprocal of the external limits placed upon our freedom. We are free to do whatever we can do, but we are at liberty to do only what we are permitted to do. We normally think of government and its laws as the power that limits our freedom, but any power – governmental, familial, economic, religious, or whatever – that has (and exercises) the power to control our actions, serves to constrict our liberty. We must therefore regard liberty (but not freedom) as a function of the family, clan, and nation into which we are born. Freedom is natural. Liberty is what we have left after we volunteer (or are forced) to recognize barriers to our freedom.

A Commentary on Hatred

[I did not write the piece that follows. A blogger who calls himself "Jarhead" did, on another blog net. I would not normally publicize anything smacking so blatantly of hatred, but this little "essay" does it so perfectly and with such a creative spirit I could not resist offering it up as a "how to" example. Enjoy.]

White House Mutt

Obama says that he will give his daughters a dog now that he has won the keys to the White House. Why? Is there a written law that says every President must have a dog, or is this just more of Obama's snow-job to show how baseball, and apple pie he is? It gives me the impression that he doesn't want a stinking mutt pissing on the carpet of his Chicago mansion, but it's ok in America's house. That makes sense, because he has been pissing on America every step of the way himself.

There is no doubt, the dog of the President would live a life of luxury. It would get the very best of medical care, food, shelter, as well as regular professional grooming. None of which my old farm hounds get. If Obama snaps his fingers, the dog can have one of the sixteen bedrooms the White House has to offer. Indeed an honor for any living creature, much less a dog. From the animal shelter, to the White House is quite the promotion, but is it really what's best for the dog? It seems to me, that if Obama were such an Animal (sic) lover, he would already have a dog, but instead, this particular dog will be no more than a Presidential prop, and a photo-op companion. A man as arrogant, and self-centered as Obama, will never stoop to the peasant level of rubbing a dogs belly, or letting the dog slurp on his hand, when it is seeking attention. I can see Obama kicking the poor bastard in the ribs, and cussing every time the dog is in his majesties (sic) presence.

One thing that everyone discussing this issue forgets to mention is, a dog needs more than the pampering of Presidential servants, a dog needs the love, and companionship, that can only be provided by the host family. If Obama just wants a dog to make himself, and the first-family look All-American, then he needs to get a fish. Without love in the equation, the dog would be better off left in the shelter. Someone who truly wants him will come along, or he will be put down, either way, that is better than being ignored, just for the sake of a selfish mans (sic) image preservation.

[I add this, that one of Jarhead's fellow patient's volunteered that after Obama is defeated in four years, he. the defeated man, will no doubt drop the dog off a nearby bridge, drowning the beast so he will no longer have to put up with it. This guy Jarhead hangs the fly paper of hate and draws hateful flies. Personally, I hate hatefulness. Maybe that's why I'm publishing this hateful piece.]

The Difference Between "Data" and "Information"

[Reading over my previous blog I noticed that I left two important terms undefined. Today I'm correcting that mistake.]

Imagine a machine capable of receiving all the types of inputs human beings are capable of receiving. The laws of nature determine that the machine can hear, see, feel, and smell. The machine receives data from all the senses and stores it away in its memory. But that’s it. That’s all the machine does. It senses but does not act (because it cannot). Call this machine-D, as in “might-as-well-be-Dead.”

Conceive now a similar machine, with similar capabilities. Nature has determined that this machine, in addition to receiving data, is capable of trying to make sense of the data it receives, and if it feels the need to do so, is able to act on what it learns. Call this one machine-L, as in Living.

Now imagine that both machines receive some data which when properly analyzed tells them that a great rock teeters above their heads and threatens to fall and destroy them. Which machine has the better chance to survive the crash? Of course, machine-L, the one that's free. (All human beings are of this type, some with more power to act than others.)

If machine-L were of a philosophical bent, it might feel itself absolutely free because it would recognize in itself more power to survive than it would notice in machine-D. That mistake is understandable; it’s based on observation. Remove the words “absolutely free” and substitute “free within the limits of the laws of nature,” and you have the truth.

After much analysis of these model machines, we see that machine-L transforms "data" into "information." We can now understand these two words more perfectly, with all that "more perfectly" implies. Data is unbiased. Information is personal.

Data has no meaning. Information has only meaning. But meaning is always personal.

The Included Middle

No text I've ever read offers a name for the vast logical space that lies between the extremes of a hapless dichotomy. They just call it "the excluded middle." They're referring to a type of logical error, one ruled by the assumption that reality must be either this way or that way with no other possibilities.

That type of reasoning has a wide appeal. It works easily in the mind because it narrows the number of alternatives to be dealt with. Knowing that we must, for example, either take flight or turn and fight when confronted by a grizzly bear simplifies the problem. In situations of that sort, it would appear quite reasonable to exclude the middle, which might foolishly include the temptation to reason with the bear. If all the problems in life were that straightforwardly analyzable, the idea that there might exist an excluded middle would never arise.

But then some wise guy -- who has actually had to deal with grizzlies -- tells us that neither fight nor flight will work to our advantage. The bear is bound to win in a fair fight and outrun us if we choose to flee. So what does the guy suggest? (This is a real quote from a guidebook.) "Remain calm. Do not look the bear in the eye, but rather lie down on your belly drawing yourself up into the fetal position with your elbows closely tucked to your side. This may not discourage the bear from attacking, but will surely minimize the damage." There's a picture to show those who may not know what the fetal position looks like.

We have to think about this advice for a while before we catch on, that even if we do the right thing, we may still wind up badly mauled or even dead. The guide doesn't promise us that we will win, only that our chances for survival will be increased by including the middle.

Most of us will never have to face a bear, so the instructions for dealing with bears, taken literally, will not be useful. But when treated as an illustration of the logical errors we encounter when we exclude the middle, the guidance for dealing with bears takes on everyday value.

I mean the word "value" in this sense, that knowledge is always valuable. I qualify value this way because I'm gonna be talking about a dichotomy that most of us are not called upon to resolve but which nevertheless lies inside our heads as one of the "facts" we indirectly deal with on an everyday basis. I'm talking about the dichotomy presented by the choice between a free market economy or a socialist economy. And I'm asking, "Is this really an either-or situation?"

One of the great proponents of free market economics, F. A. Hayek, wrote an extremely good book called The Road to Serfdom. Chapter six of that book is a mini-masterpiece. It deals with the rule of law. After pointing out that the free market serves as an automatic system for setting prices (as opposed to having prices set by canon law or central planners), he describes the almost magical way prices are established in real time. Changes in supply and demand are almost instantaneously reflected in market prices, and these changes happen without there being a formal system to govern the flow of data. Hayek makes the point that this system functions as well as it does precisely because there are no rules governing the establishment of prices. He was saying (in 1944), as clearly as it had ever been said (clearer even than Adam Smith said it 168 years before), that the laws of the land must be crafted in a way that will not interfere with the free flow of price data.

As beautifully as Hayek presents his argument, and as appealing as it is to his kindred spirits, he has given us a clear-cut example of the excluded middle. He is saying, in effect, that either we leave the market alone or we will destroy the system that maximizes our knowledge of the price of things. Hayek does not (in his chapter six) consider that the price of things may not reflect the value of things.

Let me explain what I mean by that. What do prices tell us, other than the relative cost of products? Do they tell us the value of the goods being traded? No. They tell us only what someone is willing to pay for the products. To assume that price reflects real value would be to assume that every buyer (all demand) is rational -- by which I mean fully informed. But there are some people who buy that oily stuff that's plainly labelled " I can't believe it's not Butter" thinking the stuff is really butter. Countless pregnant women bought thalidomide thinking that just because it was being sold by a reliable pharmaceutical firm to relieve morning sickness (which it did, by the way) the stuff would not deform their offspring (which it also did, by the way).

I mention these examples only to illustrate the difference between price and value, and to make the point that just because the system Hayek described works perfectly to maintain a balance between supply and demand (called "price") does not mean the system works perfectly for anything else.

To correct the most noticeable faults of the free market system (which would permit misleading labels and harmful products) the government passes laws and rules that seem at first glance to interfere with the free market. But looked at with keener eyes -- in fact looking at price itself -- we see that the system Hayek described works better when the people representing supply (manufacturers) and the people representing demand (you and me) have better information about the commodities being traded. It would be better, for instance, if that oily stuff were plainly labelled "NOT BUTTER" and if thalidomide were identified as a harmful product. If that sort of information flowed through the system as easily as supply and demand data (note the difference here between "information" and "data") the system would not only still work automatically to set prices but would also work to improve the value of the stuff being bought and sold.

Unfortunately, information about value is not produced by an invisible hand. In matter of fact, the invisible hand's effect on some suppliers urges them to hide the value of their products, to make them seem to have more value than they actually do. Those unscrupulous manufacturers are, after all, guided only by a consideration of their own best interest. To paraphrase Adam Smith, to seek the common good would be to betray the effectiveness of the invisible hand that so perfectly determines the equilibrium between supply and demand.

So, in the excluded middle between the so-called free market and the so-called regulated market there exists the possibility of a mechanism that improves the knowledge base available to buyers and sellers. If the producers of goods become intuitively aware that their sleight-of-hand methods are going to be counter-productive in the marketplace, they will be less likely to seek deceptive methods. And even more obviously, the buyers of goods will be less likely to purchase valueless goods if they are more aware of the actual values of the goods in the market.

But as I said, the information regarding value does not flow as easily as price data. It does not come naturally to know not to run from a grizzly. We have to learn that fact. This natural slowness of flow tilts the system in the direction of ignorance. No matter how efficiently the agencies designed to measure and advertise value work, their output will always lag behind the efforts of suppliers to enhance the blackness of their bottom line.

To argue, as some well-meaning souls do, that the market-tinkering efforts of government violate some sacrosanct ideology, is not only to contribute to the difficulties in moving information through the pipelines, but also to condition the people being served to resist the efforts of the government to come to their assistance.

And of course, there is also the counter-force of ideologists of the so-called radical left, who seeing the benefits of the government's efforts, are prone to fight the bear. They seem to feel that they can make angels of human beings, apparently blind to the problems involved in trying to reason with bears.

Finding the middle ground is not easy when compared either to doing nothing or to doing too much. Neither flight nor fight will work when the problem is like unto a bear.