Boosterism

You can do it! (See also, “You go!”)

In 1967, Kathrine Switzer, a 20-year-old journalism student, ran the Boston Marathon. At the time, by tradition if not written rule, the race was restricted to men. She registered under the name "K.V. Switzer" to try to slip through the cracks.

On race day, Switzer was running the course when Jock Semple, the race director, spotted her and realized that she was a woman. He ran up to her and tried to pull her off the course. Her boyfriend, Tom Miller, saw what was happening and ran over to help. He punched Semple in the face, knocking him to the ground. Switzer finished the race in 4 hours and 20 minutes, slightly faster than my best marathon time.¹

In certain respects, this is the opposite of what happened in the story I told in Power III about the boyfriend of the skier who caused a collision. Unlike in that story, Miller supported his partner. As Switzer later put it (my italics), “all the guys were on my side.”

There is something life-affirming in this story. It’s hard to precisely describe the feeling experienced when one hears it. It is inspiring, uplifting, or elevating. This post is an attempt to get at that feeling. It’s also an attempt to get at something I find puzzling, that people seem to enjoy the feeling even in the absence of the underlying tension that animates the Switzer case.

First, let’s look at what the situations that elicit this feeling—I’m going to call it boosting—have in common.

Here are some situations that I think people find boosting:

· A black woman refuses to give up her seat in a bus despite laws demanding it.

· An 11-year-old boy gives a stirring political speech about his freedom of expression in front of an audience.

· A kitten rears up and hisses to defend his owners from a large raccoon.

· A developmentally disabled child scores a goal in a soccer game.

Boosting seems to have to do with cases in which an individual² does something—I’m going to call it the Thing, with a capital letter—that that individual is either not allowed to do, by convention or rule, or is stereotypically not good at—according to the current cultural norms, or both. So, in the 60s in the United States, females were not viewed as being especially good—or even able to—run long distances without serious risk of injury. The rule against running marathons was, you see, for their safety #wink.

Now, pick any activity, whether it is a competitive sport, a job/profession, hobby, etc. Some people are either not allowed to do that Thing or unlikely to be good at that Thing: running a marathon, earning a PhD, winning a beauty contest, welding a joint, performing a hip-hop song, taming a lion, singing a baby to sleep, inventing a new drug, fixing an oil rig, wearing a skirt, giving a stirring political speech, training a seal, performing an erotic dance, winning a Nobel Prize, having sex with 50 different partners, executing a fiendish prank, composing an opera…

Now think about someone of the proscribed group doing the activity. A woman in 1967 runs a marathon. Rosie rivets a joint on a P-51. A person with a deformity wins a beauty contest. An amputee summits a tall, steep mountain.

The cliché that comes to mind is that it’s “stunning and brave.” That seems to fit the bill. After all, stunning implies that it’s unexpected, and part of the formula is that the person isn’t good or allowed to do it, so if they do, well, that’s surprising. Related, in many cases, it might well be brave in the sense that doing the Thing entails risks of various sorts. Certainly Rosa Parks and Kathrine Switzer took risks doing what they did. Parks did jail time.

Boosterism seems to be the feeling you get when someone does someThing stunning and brave that fits the scheme above.

Why?

As with so many feelings, I confess… I’m not really sure. But I’m especially not sure in this case.

I think it’s somehow to do with leveling.

Scholars such as Chris Boehm—see, for instance, his book Hierarchy in the Forest—have suggested that humans have a propensity to try to flatten hierarchies. As we have seen in posts about power, when there is one individual—or a group of a few individuals—who everyone else always backs, these few powerful people can do practically whatever they want, advancing their (fitness) interests at the expense of others’. Boehm suggests that humans naturally want to limit the power of the powerful. Certainly there is cross-cultural evidence of this preference, especially in the so-called collectivist cultures associated with Asia.

This resonates with boosterism, if imperfectly. The story about the marathon can be seen as part of eroding the power of men in society, reducing the extent to which it is an identity-focused regime, as I’ve called it. Generally, boosterism feels anti-hierarchy. So maybe boosterism is a leveling system, designed to support underdogs to prevent domination by the few, or the one. It’s probably often fitness-good to support the erosion of power of people or groups who can impose their will on you. Leveling is good for those who aren’t part of the elite.

I have this feeling that the remarkable staying power of two massive cultural ideas connect to the voracious human appetite for boosterism and its potential power for leveling. First is Christianity. Some scholars have suggested that at least some of the traction of Christianity might be the key message, “And the last shall be first.” (This quote or a facsimile appears in multiple gospels.) This idea can also be seen in who inherits the Earth (the meek) and the difficulty of the rich entering the Kingdom of God. In an era of Emperors and Caesars, this idea might have held a crucial appeal for many. The other place I see boosterism is Marxism. The bones of this philosophy have the same feel: down with the rich capitalist (system), up with the workers.³ This idea continues to resonate with many, a fact that is especially puzzling given the historical results of Marxist societies.

Now, not all boosterism looks like it’s about reducing the power of the powerful. I mean, supporting the kitten isn’t somehow undermining the rule of the racoons.

Still, under normal circumstances, it is genuinely risky to support the side that is likely to lose. (I have argued that this is the problem that moral judgment often solves: it puts you on the side everyone else is on.) Joining the losing side carries whatever the cost of losing is in that particular conflict. That makes observing someone taking the side of the underdog striking. There is a person taking a risk, one that looks unlikely to pay off.

This is why stories such as Rosa Parks’ are so inspiring. In that context, she was clearly and obviously a member of the group that was losing conflicts so much that the loss was written into laws. She was taking a risk, as were supporters.

I think, very generally, we respect and admire people who take the side of the underdog. My sense is that this is one reason that films such as Star Wars enjoy the mainstream success that they do. The Rebel Alliance is the underdog, fighting the Empire. When Luke joins the rebels and their assault on the Death Star, at that moment, if one didn’t know anything about how movies work, you might think he was signing up for certain death. It was an a few squadrons of X- and Y-wings versus a fully operational battle station. Looks bleak. But it also feels boosting to watch it.

So as a general matter, I think we’re inclined to feel good about the people who take the side of the underdog. It was probably fitness-good to support those who were working toward leveling hierarchies that we ourselves might be at the bottom of.

But there’s a bit more to it than that.

In the case of Star Wars, it’s not just that the rebels were the underdogs. They were clearly the (morally) good guys. Vader is going around blowing up entire planets, filled with innocent civilians. This is to say nothing of choking his subordinates and, as we will later learn… well, no spoilers, but it’s not good.

So not only do we admire Luke for joining the heavily outgunned rebels, at the same time he’s joining the morally right side.

Now, coming back to our own galaxy in a time not all that long ago, when Rosa Parks sat in the front of the bus, the country was still divided about what the morally right regime was. Remember that Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat in 1955. In 1963, eight years later, George Wallace could still say "segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever” to applause and adulation. The moral chips had not yet fallen.

Today, matters are very different. While of course there are still issues to do with race in the United States, no one could deliver a gubernatorial inauguration address with Wallace’s phrase. The moral question has been settled.

(If you don’t like the racial example, go back to the marathon example. No one today will say that women shouldn’t be allowed to run marathons. This matter too has been settled, though of course this grazes by issues that have not been, which I will definitely just avoid.)

Yet… doesn’t it seem like there is still boosterism, even after the norms have changed?

Here are two ideas:

1. Supporting Rosa Parks in 1955 fits the boosterism model sketched above and, importantly, her actions and supporting her actions was genuinely risky. Indeed, she was arrested and jailed for the offense and civil rights advocates suffered enormously.

2. Supporting Rosa Park in 2025 fits the boosterism model sketched above and, importantly, supporting her actions today carries no risk whatsoever. The conflict has been settled and her side, civil rights proponents, won.

In some ways, it seems odd that we still feel and show boosterism in the second case. The fight is over. What is the feeling doing? In the first case, the feeling might be persuasive, showing others that they should join the underdog side, helping to effect change. In the second case, with the fight over, maybe it’s more to do with signaling one’s allegiance to and membership in the side that won?

Profiles in Risking Absolutely Nothing

Switzer and Miller were courageous. Switzer risked harm—she was, in fact, physically attacked—and could not know exactly what would happen that day. Miller showed courage as well. He similarly could not have known how other racers would behave. He could easily have become the victim of a mob.

Certainly at some points in history, most if not all of the men would have helped Semple chase her off the marathon course. Where did matters stand in 1967?

Mixed. And when things are mixed, taking a side is dangerous.

Boosting is exciting and risky and dangerous and probably, maybe even usually, a Good Thing, as the arc of human moral change bends in a good way.

And my sense is that this feeling is designed to support a new moral regime that levels things in the sense of Boehm, above.

Still, the risk profile of boosterism completely changes after the fight is over.

This distinction takes us back to all of the discussions of power, which I haven’t returned to in a while. My sense is that the human emotion, the feeling of boosterism, remains strong even when the winds have shifted. But boosterism, to my eye, lands different after the fight has been won.

In fact, boosterism can seem a little, well, infantilizing, sometimes implicitly endorsing the very stereotypes we want to expunge.

Take Wakanda, the fictional high technology culture somewhere in Africa in the Marvel Universe. It seems to me the creators of the movie are saying, in essence, hey, here is a crazy idea. Get this, a culture in Africa, composed of Africans, did a Thing, and this group has advanced science and technology. My sense is that the movie’s creators are going for some boosterism in this arc. There’s a bit of an implicit message there that this is somehow a surprising Thing, even stunning. Pick a different group and substitute that group for Africans and feel how it lands.

Once you see the pattern of boosterism, it’s easy to find. I invite you to reflect on whatever examples come to mind. Take any trait associated with any group, whether sex, nationality, race, health, ability, age, what have you. Now consider someone of a different group doing someThing: running a marathon, earning a PhD, winning a beauty contest, welding a joint, performing a hip-hop song, taming a lion, singing a baby to sleep, inventing a new drug, etc.

For each Thing, consider a person in a category for whom you would feel boosted if they did it. It probably feels good to boost them when you learn of the feat.

And that’s great.

Today’s person is often boosting in a context in which there is no risk because the moral norm has settled and there’s no longer a significant fight about whether that person may/can do X. Boosting, in this case, might be part victory lap and part warning. Anyone still on the losing side of the norm? Well, watch out, for we are many.

Now, of course there is still some genuine, risky boosting. Cultures are constantly fighting about norms and it takes a while to reach an equilibrium. I won’t name any of these fights because I don’t really want to get into any of those discussions, many or most of which are fraught, so I’ll leave it to the reader to think about who is being boosted over what. (I’ll add my boosting once the moral chips have fallen.)

As some researchers put it, “[a]lthough people prefer to associate with winners, there is also a strong desire to support the lovable loser or underdog.” It feels good to stand up and say, yes, I too support people doing that Thing.

But if everyone else has the same belief, well, that’s neither particularly stunning nor especially brave. When the battle is long over, and the moral arc has fully arced, boosterism changes. It still feels good—but it’s no longer subversive. It’s orthodoxy in the costume of rebellion. And like all such performances, it risks slipping into the theater of the absurd: applause lines for acts no longer forbidden, cheers for victories already won.

1. Ok, my only marathon time.

2. It might be groups, too. When I was a kid, I saw all of the Bad News Bears movies, and it seems to me those movies elicit the same sort of feeling.

3. The idea that both Christianity and Marxism derive cultural traction from their promise of moral and social reversal—elevating the lowly and casting down the mighty—has been explored by Ernst Bloch (The Principle of Hope) and a number of later thinkers who wrestled with the connection between these two ideas.