A couple months back the BBC broadcast an amazing documentary, called "The Power of Nightmares." The documentary argues, in essence, that both Al Qaeda and the neocons represent hypercontemporary reactions to the failure of the liberal dream of modernity (a failure I document here). Both of these are movements that see liberal modernity as a form of self-defeating decadence, that must be actively combatted by a return to unquestioned verities. What chiefly distinguishes the two movements, according to the documentary, is that whereas the Islamists actually believed in the religious ideals they espouse in public, the neocons believed that religion was merely a "necessary illusion," something that "we" need the masses to believe in order to maintain order, but that "we" intellectuals in private can recognize as bunk. In short, these are twin movements, with the neocons merely a more cynical flavor.
Although film has a distasteful conspiratorial tone, its basic story is fundamentally correct on a number of important fronts. First, the fact that it describes Al Qaeda as a product of the failure of liberal ideals (rather than some mere atavism, or some primordial expression of eeeeevil) is a crucial point. Second, I believe the movie is fundamentally accurate in depicting the neocons as manipulative cynics, peddlers of stories they know to be myths, but which they believe will improve the moral character of their believers.
It also contains lots of surprising anecdotes. For example, did you know that Leo Strauss loved the show "Gunsmoke"?
If I would add one thing, it is simply that the ultimate irony of the neocons is that although they see themselves as the secret antithesis of the decadent liberalism of an earlier era of American politics, they in fact replicate many of the features of that now-discredited liberalism. Notably, the neocons' belief that foreign military excursions would be able to overcome the fundamental weaknesses of American society ("relativism, liberalism, lack of self-confidence, lack of belief in itself") is an echo, almost a plagiarism, of that apotheosis of liberal foreign policy, Walt Rostow. In a 1957 essay, "The National Style," Rostow wrote that Americans needed a mission to improve the world, or else we would be left arguing amongst ourselves about "narrower and narrower issues," and merely pursuing consumerism.
Like his neocon heirs, Rostow called for a foreign policy would that compel the "U.S. to sustain a performance at home which reaches deeply into our domestic arrangements and which requires widespread... assumption of responsibility and sacrifice for public purposes by our people." For Rostow, of course, the content of this domestic rearrangement would be Great Society liberalism, whereas for the neocons it is some kind of religiously-tinged free-market utopianism. But despite the differences in the content of their utopain visions, the neocons and the modernization theory liberals have shared (or more accurately, the neocons stole) the idea of galvanizing the country around a set of foreign policy goals and ideals that would liberate the country from its self-indulgent flabbiness.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Abortion as freedom
In a useful article in Dissent, Carole Joffe summarizes how progressives should think about moving forward on reproductive rights in the current political climate.
Joffe's basic point is that the narrow issue of abortion rights needs to be contextualized (or "reframed" as her fellow Rockridge Instituters would have it) in wider terms as a matter of reproductive rights. There was one turn in Joffe's argument I considered especially interesting, because it shows the connections between the economic issues and the cultural issues that divide the country:
One problem with this strategy is that it implicitly cedes the moral ground on abortion, i.e. it admits that abortion is a bad thing that should be mitigated.
While I am unconvinced by Joffe's claim that an effective defense of abortion rights requires overcoming this moral stigma, she is surely right to connect abortion rights to the defense of sexual liberation (e.g. "the pursuit of happiness"). In any event, removing the moral stigma of abortion would certainly require (as a necessary though not sufficient condition) that Americans admit their commitment to sexual freedom, and to communicate operationalize this freedom requires a defense of abortion rights.
But it's hard to know how this would work politically. Could an American politician look the American people in the eye and say, "How many of you had sex before you got married? If you'd gotten pregnant or gotten the girl pregnant, would you have wanted to be forced to have that baby, to spend your life raising that child with that person you had sex with?" Surveys consistently show that American in practice absolutely and increasingly embrace their sexual freedom and make use of that freedom: 72% of kids have sex before they leave high school, and only 24% of people in 1996 said they considered sex before marriage immoral.
Despite these statistics, it's hard to overestimate the degree of latent sexual guilt and attendant hypocrisy that courses through our culture. Will Americans put up with being told, "Look, 90% of you had sex before you got married, and the only difference between you and the women who want abortions is that you're lucky your activity didn't result in a pregnancy. 'Let he who is without sin among you...' etc. etc." No doubt it would be possible to find a less offensive formulation of this observation, but even so, I think this is a tough political sell. But still, there should be people out there saying it, if not the figureheads of the Democratic Party. Simply articulating and rearticulating the point can move the moral sticks, as it were.
What would it take to recast our ethical culture so that people would recognize that the greatest moral imperative is not to abate sin, but to abate suffering?
Joffe's basic point is that the narrow issue of abortion rights needs to be contextualized (or "reframed" as her fellow Rockridge Instituters would have it) in wider terms as a matter of reproductive rights. There was one turn in Joffe's argument I considered especially interesting, because it shows the connections between the economic issues and the cultural issues that divide the country:
Eugenic ideas have made a comeback of sorts in the aftermath of the landmark welfare reform bill of 1996. That reshaping of welfare has put time limits on receipt of assistance, imposed "family caps" that restrict the number of children a particular welfare recipient can claim, and above all, reinforced the message that one should only have children that one can afford. Indeed, though abortion rates have recently declined for most women, the one exception to this is low-income black women, and this rise in abortion appears to be closely related to welfare reform.I'd like to see this point argued and evidenced a little more compellingly. But let's for the moment assume that it is true that cutting off of child welfare support for poor women has in fact resulted not so much in poor men and women amending their sexual behavior (as sexual reactionaries hope), but rather simply in the aborting of the unwanted pregnancies that inevitably ensue--pregnancies they might have taken to term if child welfare had been available to them. In short, so-called "welfare reform" has made more of the pregnancies that happen to poor mothers be unwanted. (This also resonates with international evidence: in general, in OECD countries, the stronger the welfare states, the lower the abortion rates.) This observation suggests a useful wedge strategy for Democrats: talk about the welfare state as a way to hold down abortion rates.
One problem with this strategy is that it implicitly cedes the moral ground on abortion, i.e. it admits that abortion is a bad thing that should be mitigated.
While I am unconvinced by Joffe's claim that an effective defense of abortion rights requires overcoming this moral stigma, she is surely right to connect abortion rights to the defense of sexual liberation (e.g. "the pursuit of happiness"). In any event, removing the moral stigma of abortion would certainly require (as a necessary though not sufficient condition) that Americans admit their commitment to sexual freedom, and to communicate operationalize this freedom requires a defense of abortion rights.
But it's hard to know how this would work politically. Could an American politician look the American people in the eye and say, "How many of you had sex before you got married? If you'd gotten pregnant or gotten the girl pregnant, would you have wanted to be forced to have that baby, to spend your life raising that child with that person you had sex with?" Surveys consistently show that American in practice absolutely and increasingly embrace their sexual freedom and make use of that freedom: 72% of kids have sex before they leave high school, and only 24% of people in 1996 said they considered sex before marriage immoral.
Despite these statistics, it's hard to overestimate the degree of latent sexual guilt and attendant hypocrisy that courses through our culture. Will Americans put up with being told, "Look, 90% of you had sex before you got married, and the only difference between you and the women who want abortions is that you're lucky your activity didn't result in a pregnancy. 'Let he who is without sin among you...' etc. etc." No doubt it would be possible to find a less offensive formulation of this observation, but even so, I think this is a tough political sell. But still, there should be people out there saying it, if not the figureheads of the Democratic Party. Simply articulating and rearticulating the point can move the moral sticks, as it were.
What would it take to recast our ethical culture so that people would recognize that the greatest moral imperative is not to abate sin, but to abate suffering?
Yo Eazy, why don't you step up to the stand and tell the jury how you feel about this...
Kevin Drum apparently finally got his copy of Harry Frankfurt's "On Bullshit" (I'm still waiting for mine), and he's got a nice post on why contemporary politics has brought this mordant little academic essay back into vogue.
Maybe analytical philosophy does have something useful to teach us!
Maybe analytical philosophy does have something useful to teach us!
Elephants and Jackasses
Marc Cooper has a snarky piece coming out in The Atlantic Monthly about how certain sectors of the, yes, liberal elite, prefer to think of politics as a form of psychotherapy rather than as a project of coalition building. The article, I think, is both nastier than it needs to be, and takes on awfully soft subjects without spending as much time as it should trying to propose positive alternatives. Here's a sample Cooper himself is particularly proud of:
But if I largely agree with what I take to be Cooper's political point (small precaution: I haven't read anything else by him), I still have to question whether blasting away at the fecklessness of Hollywood fundraisers really advances the cause, or if it simply provides an echo of what you get in rawer form on Fox talkshows or the op-ed pages of the WSJ. Surely Cooper understands that rich Hollywood donors are the useful idiots of the Party, and both should be encouraged to keep giving, and as much as possible kept out of the political spotlight. His writing about them this way accomplishes neither of those goals.
Sampling the dinner parties, salons, book events, and fundraisers on the liberalish West Side of Los Angeles over the past few years has been its own sort of nightmare, thank you very much. It features the liberal left as the new incarnation of the John Birch Society, the black-clad beneficiaries of studio residuals and university tenure—often banking family salaries deep into six figures (or much, much more), their offspring booked into $20,000-a-year prep schools—as the last-standing defenders of enlightenment and democracy. At one liberal party last year, in a sprawling Sunset Boulevard mansion bedecked with statues and gold leaf, where Aaron Sorkin and Rob Reiner clinked glasses with Laurie and Larry David, the Chanel-clad hostess (a very wealthy industrialist) mounted her staircase and, speaking to the all-Democratic crowd, vowed to dedicate her energies to fighting George W. Bush. To thunderous applause she announced, "We are tired of being disenfranchised!"In general, I agree with Cooper's assessment that the Democrats would probably do better if they read more Thomas Frank and less George Lakoff. In other words, as readers of this blog know, I think the Democratic Party needs come up with a clearly differentiated story that challenges the DLC-Republican orthodoxy that promotes welfare for corporations and "market discipline" for the working classes.
But if I largely agree with what I take to be Cooper's political point (small precaution: I haven't read anything else by him), I still have to question whether blasting away at the fecklessness of Hollywood fundraisers really advances the cause, or if it simply provides an echo of what you get in rawer form on Fox talkshows or the op-ed pages of the WSJ. Surely Cooper understands that rich Hollywood donors are the useful idiots of the Party, and both should be encouraged to keep giving, and as much as possible kept out of the political spotlight. His writing about them this way accomplishes neither of those goals.
The tedium of analytical philosophy
Richard Rorty has a nice piece on why analytical philosophy is so, er, hermetic. It's a wide-ranging article that mainly deals with how analytical philosophy became fascinated by such recondite issues, eschewing the traditional philosophical efforts to systematize and moralize.
But what struck me most about the article was a little aside near the end where Rorty points out that it's really too soon to tell what history will make of the analytical philosophical tradition. "Nobody in 1904," Rorty observes, "would have predicted that Frege and Nietzsche were the only two philosophers of the late 19th century whose writings would still be studied intensively in 2005."
This observation caused me to ask myself, What philosophers of the late twentieth century are our great-great-grandchildren most likely to still study? That is, which late twentieth century thinkers will readers a hundred years from now consider to as speaking to their own contemporary concerns. Unfortunately, answering this question requires speculating recklessly about what the primary philosophical concerns of the early twenty-second century will be. (In darker moods, I wonder whether anyone will read philosophy or anything else a hundred years from now.) But it's the kind of topic that's fun to think about anyway.
The two late twentieth century philosophers most widely discussed today are probably Jurgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida. But I wonder very much whether these two, especially Derrida, will still be considered interesting a century hence, except as historical figures. My guess is that in moral philosophy, John Rawls and Isaiah Berlin will still be read, maybe Peter Singer too (!). Thomas Kuhn will almost certainly still be read with profit. Among social philosophers it's much harder to guess, but one has to figure that Foucault's star can only wane. But who knows -- maybe history will recognize Peter Sloterdijk as the greatest philosopher of the late twentieth century.
We can at least hope so.
But what struck me most about the article was a little aside near the end where Rorty points out that it's really too soon to tell what history will make of the analytical philosophical tradition. "Nobody in 1904," Rorty observes, "would have predicted that Frege and Nietzsche were the only two philosophers of the late 19th century whose writings would still be studied intensively in 2005."
This observation caused me to ask myself, What philosophers of the late twentieth century are our great-great-grandchildren most likely to still study? That is, which late twentieth century thinkers will readers a hundred years from now consider to as speaking to their own contemporary concerns. Unfortunately, answering this question requires speculating recklessly about what the primary philosophical concerns of the early twenty-second century will be. (In darker moods, I wonder whether anyone will read philosophy or anything else a hundred years from now.) But it's the kind of topic that's fun to think about anyway.
The two late twentieth century philosophers most widely discussed today are probably Jurgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida. But I wonder very much whether these two, especially Derrida, will still be considered interesting a century hence, except as historical figures. My guess is that in moral philosophy, John Rawls and Isaiah Berlin will still be read, maybe Peter Singer too (!). Thomas Kuhn will almost certainly still be read with profit. Among social philosophers it's much harder to guess, but one has to figure that Foucault's star can only wane. But who knows -- maybe history will recognize Peter Sloterdijk as the greatest philosopher of the late twentieth century.
We can at least hope so.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Democracy starts at home
What makes the Bushies' "soaring rhetoric" about democracy abroad so especially nauseating, of course, is their blatant contempt for it at home. As the Center for American Progress points out,
The Bush administration and its conservative allies have systematically undermined democracy in the United States. Conservatives routinely call for the suppression of
minority voting; pay journalists to act as administration shills; produce illegal, government-funded propaganda; ignore ethical standards for their leaders; regularly subordinate public needs to corporate interests; and hand out corrupt military contracts to their business friends . Until these practices are put to an end - and people are held accountable - claims that the right-wing is the torch bearer for democracy will ring hollow.
Democracy: Rhetoric vs. Policy
An excellent editorial at the International Herald Tribune about the yawning gap between Bush's rhetoric about democracy and his actual policies. Money:
This is not to say that Bush was wrong to make some of these compromises, especially with regards to Taiwan, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. It's just to prick a hole in the "noble fiction" that the neocons are always trying to sell us about this President being an avatar of democratization. If you believe this President has any more commitment to promoting democracy than any of his predecessors in the office, you're (at best) a sucker.Despite his stirring rhetoric, the reality is that Bush simply doesn't have a very strong record of promoting democracy abroad.
During his first term, Bush praised the democratic visions of Vladimir Putin and Pervez Musharraf as they systematically smothered the embers of freedom in Russia and Pakistan. This is the president that stood shoulder to shoulder with the Chinese prime minister, Wen Jiabao, while publicly condemning a proposed referendum on independence in democratic Taiwan.
This is the same administration that was the only government in the Western Hemisphere to recognize the ill-fated coup attempt against the democratically elected leader in Venezuela. Despite its democratic pronouncements, this administration remains a steadfast supporter of entrenched autocrats in Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Central Asia.
Even in Iraq and Afghanistan, places that Bush's supporters point to as examples of his commitment to advancing freedom, the evidence is dubious.
Leaving aside the irony of invading a country to "bring it democracy," Bush nodded to the Department of Defense to take the lead in the democracy-building effort in Iraq. Their plan: Install Ahmed Chalabi as the new Iraqi leader. The U.S. has been
scrambling in Iraq ever since.Coming nearly two years after the invasion, the recent elections are an important step toward creating a degree of legitimacy within Iraq's political leadership. This accomplishment, however, has come at considerable cost in lives lost, stability and American prestige - costs that could have been mitigated if a commitment to prepare for a democratic transition had been made a priority.
In Afghanistan, the Bush administration sided with the country's powerful warlords at the expense of the new central government - a choice deemed necessary to track down the Taliban and Al Qaeda leadership. And despite the elections there, insecurity remains the predominate theme in the country.
The essential point is that establishing democracy was not the rationale for these military interventions. It has always been an after-the-fact justification for other priorities - capturing Osama bin Laden, destroying Al Qaeda and the Taliban, and eliminating Saddam Hussein's control of weapons of mass destruction.
Rather than a democratic idealist, Bush is better described as someone who has co-opted the language of democracy while pursuing business-as-usual policies.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Thought for the day
For my son, the words of Giovanni Pico della Mirandola:
Upon man, at the moment of his creation, God bestowed seeds pregnant with all possibilities, the germs of every form of life. Whichever of these a man shall cultivate, the same will mature and bear fruit in him. If vegetative, he will become a plant; if sensual, he will become brutish; if rational, he will reveal himself a heavenly being; if intellectual, he will be an angel and the son of God. And if, dissatisfied with the lot of all creatures, he should recollect himself into the center of his own unity, he will there become one spirit with God.
Ya gotta love executive privilege
So it turns out that the guy who recorded Bush all but admitting that he took drugs as a youth, has decided to turn the tapes over to Bush's counsel, effectively sealing them off from any public scrutiny, including congressional investigators. And, oh yeah, apparently the guy didn't reveal the conversations just to sell more copies of his book, since he is turning the profits from the book over to a tsunami-relief charity.
Sulkiness or just political sense?
Andrew Sullivan today quotes a letter-writer who complains that Democrats look at good news coming out of the Middle East (for example, from Lebanon or Egypt in recent days) and react with "sulky nonsequitors," and Sullivan then says this is why he doesn't trust Democrats on foreign policy.
Andrew's logic, however, seems to me to put the cart before the horse. He puts this alleged Democratic churlishness on foreign policy progress down to some kind or "irrational Bush hatred" on the part of the Democrats. But unfortunately, this hatred is hardly irrational.
Let me explain what's maddening to Democrats: no matter what happens that is progressive in the Middle East, Republicans and the Bush regime not only claim credit for it, but also claim that the war in Iraq is the reason for the progress. Libya doing a deal on weapons and Lockerbie so it can back into the international oil market? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Lebanese reacting with revulsion to Hariri's assassination, probably by Syrian agents, and demanding Syria's exit from their country? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Progress in the Palestinian-Israeli peace effort as a result of Arafat's death? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Who’s really peddling nonsequitors here?
In short, what drives Democrats batty is the tendency of the Bush regime to take partisan political credit for anything progressive, and what's more, to blame anything retrograde on political enemies (both foreign and domestic) who "just don't get it." Never is there any recognition that Bush's international strategy even might be responsible for the negative radicalization we're seeing in places like Iran, North Korea, and even Venezuela -- not to mention alienating essential partners in nation-building.
What's more, what really kills Democrats is the way that Bush not only takes credit for everything that goes well, and denies any responsibility for things that are going badly (and, when we're honest, how many people really feel that the world is, on balance, headed in the right direction?) -- it's that he then claims this false credit as the basis for "political capital" to promote retrograde domestic policies.
How else do you really expect Democrats to react to the Bush regime's radical partisanship on all fronts at all times? Given the partisan dynamic Bush has established (it began immediately after 9-11), the only reasonable first reaction of Democrats to good news in the Middle East (or anywhere else) is to ask themselves, "How can Bush be denied political credit for this, since you know he's going to claim it?"
That's not sulkiness; rather, it's a natural reaction of the opposition party to the complete partisan politicization of everything by this regime, by the refusal of the Bush regime to make any effort to build bipartisan support for anything. With Bush making everything into a partisan attack, how else is the minority party supposed to react?
Update: To see how rightwingers give Bush credit for everything positive that happens, just check out the last few days' posts at Belgravia Dispatch, who gives Bush credit for improved the situation in Lebanon and Egypt in particular. Actually, he just gives Bush the credit in passing, without even arguing the point, which is also typical of the genre: just assume that Bush deserves all the credit and none of the blame. Belgravia's only complain is that the Bushies aren't aggressive enough.
Andrew's logic, however, seems to me to put the cart before the horse. He puts this alleged Democratic churlishness on foreign policy progress down to some kind or "irrational Bush hatred" on the part of the Democrats. But unfortunately, this hatred is hardly irrational.
Let me explain what's maddening to Democrats: no matter what happens that is progressive in the Middle East, Republicans and the Bush regime not only claim credit for it, but also claim that the war in Iraq is the reason for the progress. Libya doing a deal on weapons and Lockerbie so it can back into the international oil market? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Lebanese reacting with revulsion to Hariri's assassination, probably by Syrian agents, and demanding Syria's exit from their country? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Progress in the Palestinian-Israeli peace effort as a result of Arafat's death? Must be because Bush invaded Iraq! Who’s really peddling nonsequitors here?
In short, what drives Democrats batty is the tendency of the Bush regime to take partisan political credit for anything progressive, and what's more, to blame anything retrograde on political enemies (both foreign and domestic) who "just don't get it." Never is there any recognition that Bush's international strategy even might be responsible for the negative radicalization we're seeing in places like Iran, North Korea, and even Venezuela -- not to mention alienating essential partners in nation-building.
What's more, what really kills Democrats is the way that Bush not only takes credit for everything that goes well, and denies any responsibility for things that are going badly (and, when we're honest, how many people really feel that the world is, on balance, headed in the right direction?) -- it's that he then claims this false credit as the basis for "political capital" to promote retrograde domestic policies.
How else do you really expect Democrats to react to the Bush regime's radical partisanship on all fronts at all times? Given the partisan dynamic Bush has established (it began immediately after 9-11), the only reasonable first reaction of Democrats to good news in the Middle East (or anywhere else) is to ask themselves, "How can Bush be denied political credit for this, since you know he's going to claim it?"
That's not sulkiness; rather, it's a natural reaction of the opposition party to the complete partisan politicization of everything by this regime, by the refusal of the Bush regime to make any effort to build bipartisan support for anything. With Bush making everything into a partisan attack, how else is the minority party supposed to react?
Update: To see how rightwingers give Bush credit for everything positive that happens, just check out the last few days' posts at Belgravia Dispatch, who gives Bush credit for improved the situation in Lebanon and Egypt in particular. Actually, he just gives Bush the credit in passing, without even arguing the point, which is also typical of the genre: just assume that Bush deserves all the credit and none of the blame. Belgravia's only complain is that the Bushies aren't aggressive enough.
Monday, February 28, 2005
10 years of insurgency
The United States' top military commander, Air Force Gen. Richard Myers, said on Friday that the insurgency in Iraq may well last a decade or more.
Doing a little back of the envelope calculation (and leaving aside that the trendline on casualties is actually getting worse, not better), this would mean that unless the U.S. develops an exit strategy, we are headed toward something like 10,000 deaths and 100,000 additional casualties.
And, oh yeah, by the way, Iraqi casualties are averaging about 10x U.S. rates....
Doing a little back of the envelope calculation (and leaving aside that the trendline on casualties is actually getting worse, not better), this would mean that unless the U.S. develops an exit strategy, we are headed toward something like 10,000 deaths and 100,000 additional casualties.
And, oh yeah, by the way, Iraqi casualties are averaging about 10x U.S. rates....
Redneck theory of seduction
Ed Kilgore starts his guest-blogging at TalkingPointsMemo with an amusing and insightful line that Bush's political habitus is, at bottom, a political form of "the Redneck Theory of Seduction", e.g. make a crazy huge demand, and then repeat the demand so endlessly that eventually you at least get some of what you want.
French elites
If you don't mind 1800 words of French, check out this stunning portrait of Clara and Hervé Gaymard. Hervé is the austerity-preaching former French Finance minister who has just resigned as it came to light that the French government was paying not just $18,000 a month for the couple's central Paris apartment, but tens of thousands more for "renovations."
The article is a fascinating study in how the French elite operates and replicates itself. Clara, the daughter of a famous right-wing doctor and intimate family friend of the Chiracs. Hervé, the boy from the provinces who comes to the big city and scores with the privileged bourgeoise, who bears him 8 children in 13 years while pursuing her own high-powered career. And of course they are both "enarques." A French version of the Clintons, you might say -- though both the similarities and differences between them and the Clintons speaking volumes to the differences between the political cultures of the two countries.
It would take a Stendahl to do their biography justice.
The article is a fascinating study in how the French elite operates and replicates itself. Clara, the daughter of a famous right-wing doctor and intimate family friend of the Chiracs. Hervé, the boy from the provinces who comes to the big city and scores with the privileged bourgeoise, who bears him 8 children in 13 years while pursuing her own high-powered career. And of course they are both "enarques." A French version of the Clintons, you might say -- though both the similarities and differences between them and the Clintons speaking volumes to the differences between the political cultures of the two countries.
It would take a Stendahl to do their biography justice.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
What's next for Google
I've made a point of not blogging about work, but this is the most interesting software-related article I've read in a while, about the coming architecture battle for dominance of the search market.
One of the things the article alludes to only tangentially is that whoever wins the battle to dominate the search market will have a truly frightening power over private individuals, or at any rate, knowledge of individuals. As the "dark web" becomes increasingly available to search engines, privacy will be eroded to a degree and in ways that is very difficult to comprehend. Let's hope that whoever wins is indeed forced not to "do anything evil" with the power they will have.
Hat tip: JS.
One of the things the article alludes to only tangentially is that whoever wins the battle to dominate the search market will have a truly frightening power over private individuals, or at any rate, knowledge of individuals. As the "dark web" becomes increasingly available to search engines, privacy will be eroded to a degree and in ways that is very difficult to comprehend. Let's hope that whoever wins is indeed forced not to "do anything evil" with the power they will have.
Hat tip: JS.
Arguing like a conservative
The five principles of so-called conservative argumentation:
- always seize the moral high ground
- concede nothing
- grandstand
- change the subject
- be utterly shameless
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Hey hey, ho ho, the Republicans actually reveal their intent
It's been widely distributed, but why not pile on? Here's the video of some delightful Young Republicans explaining in song their plans to save Social Security.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Will the real paranoid stylists please stand up
The WSJ claims that it's the Left that houses the real Paranoid Stylists. This isn't a case of the pot calling the kettle black; this is the pot calling the glass of milk black.
What we see here exemplifies a characteristic tactic on the part of the contemporary Right: accuse the Left of something you are blatantly yourself guilty of, not so much to convince people, as to muddy the waters about the difference between the left and right, thus creating a sense of false equivalence among the bovine masses, e.g. "Yeah, well, they're all like that, so what's the difference?"
The real point about paranoid stylists is that they don't just think that conspiracies exist in history (this is clearly a fact), but that they think that history itself (History with a big H, if you will) is a conspiracy. No doubt there are people on the left who subscribe to such beliefs (people in the anti-globalization crowd, for example, who see "capitalism" as such a conspiratorial force). But there are just way, way, WAY more people on the right who subscribe to this pattern of belief: eschatologists, antifluoridationists, antiworldgovernment (or anti-U.N. wingjobs), anti-Catholics, ultrazionists, anti-Masons, and so on. All these people think there is some sinister conspiracy of shadowy but nearly all-powerful individuals and organizations who secretly are trying to manipulate the course of history. People who ascribe almost supernatural powers to Al Qaeda are victims of this thoughtway.
But it's a completely different thing to think that Karl Rove is engaged in a secret plot to try to manipulate the course of history. First of all, that's his job! Second, you don't have to consider him all-powerful, sinister, sensual, cruel, and luxury-loving to think that he's trying to manipulate the political situation in this country. I for one don't consider him all-powerful. Yes, he's very powerful, he's very smart, and he's got odious policies; but he's hardly the fulcrum of history, and neither is his boss. They're just a couple of middlingly evil caesarists. (Think Tiberius, not Caligula.)
Anyway, it's probably stupid of me to represent the Wall Street Journal's op-ed pages as a source of ideas (though frighteningly many mouth-breathers do). Rather, it's a place that issues rightwing smears in the form of easily-digested talking points, without any regard for intellectual coherence or integrity.
What we see here exemplifies a characteristic tactic on the part of the contemporary Right: accuse the Left of something you are blatantly yourself guilty of, not so much to convince people, as to muddy the waters about the difference between the left and right, thus creating a sense of false equivalence among the bovine masses, e.g. "Yeah, well, they're all like that, so what's the difference?"
The real point about paranoid stylists is that they don't just think that conspiracies exist in history (this is clearly a fact), but that they think that history itself (History with a big H, if you will) is a conspiracy. No doubt there are people on the left who subscribe to such beliefs (people in the anti-globalization crowd, for example, who see "capitalism" as such a conspiratorial force). But there are just way, way, WAY more people on the right who subscribe to this pattern of belief: eschatologists, antifluoridationists, antiworldgovernment (or anti-U.N. wingjobs), anti-Catholics, ultrazionists, anti-Masons, and so on. All these people think there is some sinister conspiracy of shadowy but nearly all-powerful individuals and organizations who secretly are trying to manipulate the course of history. People who ascribe almost supernatural powers to Al Qaeda are victims of this thoughtway.
But it's a completely different thing to think that Karl Rove is engaged in a secret plot to try to manipulate the course of history. First of all, that's his job! Second, you don't have to consider him all-powerful, sinister, sensual, cruel, and luxury-loving to think that he's trying to manipulate the political situation in this country. I for one don't consider him all-powerful. Yes, he's very powerful, he's very smart, and he's got odious policies; but he's hardly the fulcrum of history, and neither is his boss. They're just a couple of middlingly evil caesarists. (Think Tiberius, not Caligula.)
Anyway, it's probably stupid of me to represent the Wall Street Journal's op-ed pages as a source of ideas (though frighteningly many mouth-breathers do). Rather, it's a place that issues rightwing smears in the form of easily-digested talking points, without any regard for intellectual coherence or integrity.
"Reconciliation" as a political dirty trick
Most people who aren't political junkies may not be aware of this, but the place where much federal American law gets written is not in either the House or Senate, but in what's known as a "conference committee." Most of the time, when there's an important piece of legislation that is subject to active political attention in both the House and Senate, different versions of the legislation get written and voted on in each chamber. When both versions pass, a so-called conference committee is set up to "reconcile" the differences between the two bills; the "reconciled" bill is then sent back to the two chambers to be voted on, and only after this bill passes both chambers is it sent to the President to be signed into law.
Traditionally, these committees were supposed to be nonpartisan. The notion was that the conference committees ought to honor the spirit of the political compromises that had been made during the debates over the legislation in each chamber. Obviously this was a crucial procedural job, but given that the goal was essentially to find common ground, it was ultimately a rather boring bureaucratic function.(For more on this procedural issue, check out this useful C-Span site.)
Over the last couple of Congressional sessions, however, this formerly boring function has changed quite dramatically. While it might be excessive to say that reconciliation committeework now reeks of derring-do, it has certainly become a less purely bureaucratic function. Since the Republicans took control of both chambers, these conference committees have become a place where the goal is not to split the difference between Senate and Congressional versions of bills, but rather to continue the partisan battle under nonpartisan, bureaucratic cover. On numerous occasions, Republicans have used the "reconciliation" process to purge bills of language or clauses that were inserted to help bring centrists and Democrats on board with the initial vote.
The goal in this transformation of the conference committess has been very calculatedly political. Centrists and Democrats have repeatedly been faced with the very uncomfortable prospect of having to "vote against a bill after they voted for it." For the Republican congressional leadership, the goal has been to try to expose these centrist legislators to charges of "flip-flopping." What's worse, with Republicans commanding very strictly voting discipline from their rank and file, they've often they've been able to simply forsake the Democratic votes during the votes on reconciled bills. The political goal in these cases has often to get a few Democrats to vote for the first version of a bill (thus providing political cover for Republicans against charges of partisanship), then to create a much more partisan "reconciled" version of the bill that passes along a strict party-line vote.
The result of the Republicans' habit of amending bills in conference in this manner, of course, is that it has made it all but impossible for Democrats to consider seriously making any kind of compromise on important issues. Any time Democrats agree to any legislative compromises, they now know they run a significant risk that the Republicans will drop their own concessions in conference. In short, the habit of amending bills in conference has led to the not unfair impression that the Republicans essentially bargain with the Democrats in bad faith.
For a very insightful take on how this may play in the struggle over Social Security, check out this fine piece of political reasoning from Matt Yglesias:
Traditionally, these committees were supposed to be nonpartisan. The notion was that the conference committees ought to honor the spirit of the political compromises that had been made during the debates over the legislation in each chamber. Obviously this was a crucial procedural job, but given that the goal was essentially to find common ground, it was ultimately a rather boring bureaucratic function.(For more on this procedural issue, check out this useful C-Span site.)
Over the last couple of Congressional sessions, however, this formerly boring function has changed quite dramatically. While it might be excessive to say that reconciliation committeework now reeks of derring-do, it has certainly become a less purely bureaucratic function. Since the Republicans took control of both chambers, these conference committees have become a place where the goal is not to split the difference between Senate and Congressional versions of bills, but rather to continue the partisan battle under nonpartisan, bureaucratic cover. On numerous occasions, Republicans have used the "reconciliation" process to purge bills of language or clauses that were inserted to help bring centrists and Democrats on board with the initial vote.
The goal in this transformation of the conference committess has been very calculatedly political. Centrists and Democrats have repeatedly been faced with the very uncomfortable prospect of having to "vote against a bill after they voted for it." For the Republican congressional leadership, the goal has been to try to expose these centrist legislators to charges of "flip-flopping." What's worse, with Republicans commanding very strictly voting discipline from their rank and file, they've often they've been able to simply forsake the Democratic votes during the votes on reconciled bills. The political goal in these cases has often to get a few Democrats to vote for the first version of a bill (thus providing political cover for Republicans against charges of partisanship), then to create a much more partisan "reconciled" version of the bill that passes along a strict party-line vote.
The result of the Republicans' habit of amending bills in conference in this manner, of course, is that it has made it all but impossible for Democrats to consider seriously making any kind of compromise on important issues. Any time Democrats agree to any legislative compromises, they now know they run a significant risk that the Republicans will drop their own concessions in conference. In short, the habit of amending bills in conference has led to the not unfair impression that the Republicans essentially bargain with the Democrats in bad faith.
For a very insightful take on how this may play in the struggle over Social Security, check out this fine piece of political reasoning from Matt Yglesias:
You reap what you sow.Some dastardly Democrat is contemplating a deal with Lindsey Graham wherein "current payroll tax revenues are left in place for now and private accounts are funded in whole or in part from new payroll tax revenues generated by raising or even lifting the payroll tax cap." This is a moderately bad idea on policy terms, and a simply terrible political idea.
Most crucially, the House Republican leadership has already ruled it out. Thus, the only possible effect of brokering a compromise of this sort with moderate Senate Republicans would be to create a conference committee in which whatever concessions the GOP makes to turncoat Democrats will be purged from the bill. Then, having already conceded the high ground on the need to "do something" and on the point that the "something" ought to involve private accounts, turncoat Democrats will be forced to argue that the only problem with the conference report on the phase-out is that it doesn't raise taxes. This will, at best, transform a political winner for the Democrats into a political loser and, at worst, lead to the passage of a bad phase-out bill.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
A cartoon in a cartoon graveyard
Here's a nasty little piece from 1998 by David Plotz of what a sad, addled sellout Hunter S. Thompson became by the end of his life. But to prove his point, Plotz necessarily must recollect how raw and fresh Thompson was when he was at the apex of his powers, at the turn of the 1960s, and how much he was a perfect foil for his time:
Between 1967 and 1973, when Thompson was at his best, he wrote with crazed, out-of-control, phantasmagoric violence. But he was living in crazed, out-of-control, phantasmagoric, violent times. A nation that had been placid suddenly raged with race riots and assassinations, manipulated by a crooked, villainous president and trapped in a terrible war.That last sentence drew me up short. It made me realize that what our own time lacks, quite precisely, is a Hunter S. Thompson figure. We desperately need someone who can shatter the pretenses of both the angry and passive, someone who can implode the perfervid fantasies that grip our country today just as surely as parallel fantasies gripped the country thirty-odd and fifty-odd years ago.
Life in Iraq
According to those pinko-commie-liberal elitists at Amnesty International, life for Iraqi women is no better now than under Saddam.
But hey, maybe it's better for the men. How does the old Beatles ditty go?
But hey, maybe it's better for the men. How does the old Beatles ditty go?
Me used to be angry young man
Me hiding me head in the sand
You gave me the word
I finally heard
I'm doing the best that I can...
I used to be cruel to my woman I beat her
and kept her apart from the things that she loved
Man, I was mean but I'm changing my scene
and I'm doing the best that I can
I've got to admit it's getting better
a little better all the time
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