Editors' Soapbox

Naturally

Growing up, my three older sisters reserved a special torture for me. "You're adopted," they'd hiss when our parents weren't around. On the face of it, it was plausible. We'd never been one of those cookie-cutter families, the kind where your fifth-grade teacher takes one look at you and knows you're another bead off a long strand. We didn't look or act much alike. We had different body types and hair colors, different interests and abilities. We all got along (despite the teasing) and most of the time we liked our differences.

But genes will out. Now all in our forties, we've become more and more alike. My father claims our voices on the phone are indistinguishable. I have to look twice at photos now to determine if that's me, or my oldest sister. And we're starting to resemble our parents too, both in looks and personality. My handwriting is a dead ringer for my mother's (and so are my hands, for that matter). My dad can fix things; so can Leslie. My mom had a great sense of humor but couldn't tell a joke to save her life; Hilary is the same. It seems funny: now that we no longer share the same environment, we're more alike than ever.

Or maybe it's not so funny. The nature/nurture debate is heating up all over again, this time prompted by Steven Pinker's new book, The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature. Pinker, a cognitive scientist at M.I.T., proposes that modern scientists, with all good intentions, have denied or downplayed evidence that there is such a thing as "human nature" and that they've underreported the pervasive role genes play in shaping who we are. For instance, our liberal democratic ideals encourage us to believe that any kid can grow up to be president. As a result, we're emotionally and intellectually invested in the studies that prove that, given the right nurturing, any kid could develop presidential qualities. The only problem is, that's not what the studies really prove.

Drawing largely from twin studies--identical, fraternal, reared together, reared apart--Pinker shows that the effect of our home environment on who we become as adults is remarkably small. Identical twins reared apart end up with eerily similar traits, from how they part their hair to their preference for waterbeds. A person's behavior and personality seems to be in large part a function of his or her genes.

He's not saying that parents don't matter, as his critics charge. Parents matter in all sorts of ways, from keeping children safe to providing food, clothing, shelter, hugs, and the opportunities for growth and development. But whether your kid turns out to be calm or explosive, outgoing or shy, may be more attributable to who you are than what you do.

In many ways, this should be liberating news. We can enjoy our children as much as we ever did, without worrying about our imagined responsibility for how they turn out after they leave the nest. Still, this feels threatening to many people, and not just the social scientists whose work Pinker calls into question. Consider the implications for the massive parenting industry. It's founded on the idea that better children will be produced by better parents, and better parents can be built through education, advice, the right toys, handbooks, TV shows, and videos.

In some ways, the difference between "naturists" like Pinker and his "nurturist" opponents is like the difference between Brain, Child and other parenting magazines. It's not that any of us is taking a stand on this scientific debate. But while traditional parenting magazines focus on how to nurture your children, Brain, Child prefers to explore the nature of being a parent. We don't have experts offering definitive answers to common parenting dilemmas; instead, we have real mothers from both sides of an issue offering their own from-the-trenches insight. Brain, Child is dedicated to the idea that there are a million ways to be a good mother--all of them interesting. Maybe by reading about other mothers' experiences, good and bad, we can all lighten up a little. --S.W.