Sep 30, 2012

Haidting on reason

Last Sunday, I attended an oddly irritating talk. The speaker was smart and articulate and I am sure I would agree with her on 90% of randomly chosen social, political, or philosophical issues. The presentation was effective and well done. The topic was certainly important—how to talk with people who disagree with us. And yet, there was so much wrong with it, I felt the need to emerge from blogging hibernation just to respond to it. (I have invited the speaker to visit this blog and comment, so I may not go back to hibernation.)

The talk was largely based on Jonathan Haidt's new book, The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion. So I should begin with a disclosure: I dislike Haidt. Although I haven't read his new book, I have followed his writing for years, and have consistently found him to be a member of the most annoying of tribes, the Self-Hating Liberals.

Don't get me wrong: Haidt is worth reading. His analysis of happiness and morality draws on recent research in various disciplines, including neuroscience, and almost everybody will learn a lot from it. He writes well and his arguments often challenge the conventional wisdom. Engaging in a debate with him requires clear and disciplined thinking. But the converse holds as well: clear and disciplined thinking requires engaging in a debate with Haidt, because his most prominent arguments are ultimately destructive.

Haidt got a lot of press a few years ago, when he—a declared atheist—defended religion's contribution to people's happiness. I think it was somewhat unfortunate for his own opus, as most of his ideas are not as inchoate, but he never seemed to object to earning much of his relative celebrity status due to this particular idea, so I must assume that he thinks of it as representative enough of his work. Now he has written a book in which he—a declared liberal—defends the conservative values as an integral part of the "moral matrix" our species has evolved with.

There is a pattern here: Haidt distinguishes himself by asking questions of the type "What if we are wrong?", where "we" are those with whom he identifies through fundamental viewpoints: atheists, secularists, liberals. This is, of course, fine in principle, even desirable, but if one builds a career on those questions, one's success becomes dependent on the challenge actually showing the prevailing views wrong. Merely casting doubt does not make you a famous iconoclast; for that, you must break something.

But Haidt doesn't want atheists and liberals to lose arguments. He still reaffirms his atheism and his liberal values. So he shifts focus from the question of who is right to the one of why people hold the views they hold. He wants to study morality scientifically, dispassionately. That's great, but is has a side-effect: it leads to moral relativism. Haidt is not comfortable with that:
I hope you'll accept that as a purely descriptive statement. You can still reject the three binding foundations normatively—that is, you can still insist that ingroup, authority, and purity refer to ancient and dangerous psychological systems that underlie fascism, racism, and homophobia, and you can still claim that liberals are right to reject those foundations and build their moral systems using primarily the harm/care and fairness/reciprocity foundations.
But this discomfort muddles the argument. It becomes less and less clear what the goal is. We should consider that we may be wrong... But we can still believe we are right... But we should understand those who are wrong different... Maybe we are wrong in the way we interact with them... Can one go down this path and remain coherent?

For those unfamiliar with Haidt's work, I suggest this essay and the responses to it as a good introduction. (The quotation above is from it.) The flaws in Haidt's essay are pointed out very well by Sam Harris, PZ Myers, and Marc Hauser, but they all miss an important point—that Haidt uncritically relies on biased sources—which I pointed out in this blog. (Note that Brooks has since solidified his hack credentials, as he has become the president of the AEI.)

As I said, I haven't read Haidt's new book, so I cannot criticize it directly. What I will criticize is the speaker's representation of it. I believe, however, that it is a fair representation, based on earlier articles that I have read, and which were clearly stages of the road to The Righteous Mind. An example is here. Again, read the responses, too; I particularly like those by Sam Harris (again!) and Roger Schank.

But on to last Sunday's talk. Its frame was a question: How do you talk with your "nut job" relatives, friends, or associates? Yes, we all have people we care about (or at least need to keep constructive working relationships with) who hold (or, worse, spill) ideas that are crazy, ludicrous, idiotic, or of some other similar kind. How can we have a conversation with them?

The speaker identified two major errors that derail such conversations. One, in our "toxic culture", we surround ourselves with those who think alike, and in our minds dehumanize The Other, those with whom we disagree. Two, we overestimate the role of rationality and falsely believe that our values have a rational basis, when in fact we use reason to justify our moral views we have already formed based primarily on emotions. The latter is illustrated by Haidt's metaphor of the rider and the elephant: the rider (the rational functions of our mind) thinks he is in charge, but the elephant (the irrational) is far more powerful.

To avoid these errors, we need to understand human morality: it is rooted in emotions, which give rise to six basic moral values: caring, liberty, fairness, loyalty, authority, and sanctity. Those six values form what Haidt calls the moral matrix. (As I understand, that concept is the main new idea in The Righteous Mind.) According to Haidt's research, liberals mainly care about the first three of those values, while conservatives care about all of them.

The speaker concluded with guidelines for better conversation with "the nut jobs":
  1. Find the humanity in each other. Stop thinking about them as crazy.
  2. Put aside right and wrong. (This includes facts!) Start by making a connection.
  3. Understand their values and speak to them. Listen. Don't stereotype them or assume they think X because they are conservatives (or liberals, etc.)
  4. Don't fall into cynicism (resignation? pessimism?). Do something!
  5. Get out of your box. Speak with people of different opinions. Get out from behind your computer!
After the talk, there was some opportunity for response from the audience. My elephant wanted to talk for an hour, but that would have been rude and against the rules, so I limited myself to expressing disagreement over equating thinking of somebody as mentally ill and dehumanizing that person. Mentally ill people are no less human than the rest. I do think that calling Tea Partiers "crazy" may sometimes be a comparison offensive to the crazy folk, but that's a different issue. I also believe that conservatism will one day be understood as related to conditions currently classified as psychiatric disorders. But anyone who sees the "crazy" people (of any kind) as less than human has a problem more acute than how to speak with ideological opponents.

So what are my other problems with the talk? My guess is that at this point, having read the summary of the talk, but not having heard my objections, most readers think it was perfectly fine. OK, there are some details I haven't mentioned yet, but let's go over the main points first.

My first problem with the talk as a whole parallels a problem I have with Haidt: it is not clear what the goal is. Are we trying to persuade the "nut job relative" we are talking with? Or contribute to the political success of "our" candidate? Or be a better person, not act like a jerk, have better relationships? The speaker mentioned all of the above, so I guess that would be her answer, but those are distinct goals and I am not sure they are always compatible. Certainly the strategy in achieving them ought to be different. Political persuasion usually benefits from some degree of deception, while I would think that honesty is a crucial part of being a good person.

Moreover, I would be close to answering that question with "none of the above". I discuss political issues often, but I don't usually expect to change people's views or influence elections, and I don't think the style of the conversation has much to do with me becoming a better or worse person. I like to test my own views by exposing them and defending them in a debate. It helps me grow, which may be akin to becoming a better person. Hopefully, it helps the other person grow, too, if they are willing to use the opportunity. I also believe that reason has an intrinsic value, and it is reason I want to triumph in a debate. If I happen to be on its side, that's an added benefit, but being right after a debate is the next best thing—and when you add the value of learning, it may be the best outcome.

A direct consequence is that I enjoy serious discussions with people who hold different views and can articulate good arguments in support of those views. If their arguments are poor, I see a serious discussion as a waste of time. Mocking their views becomes much more attractive. It may not be nice, but humor and satire have an intrinsic value, too. Or, if practical considerations preclude that (say, you would offend someone you need to work with), then it is best to avoid talking about contentious issues with them, period.

The second fundamental problem I have with the talk is that it promotes relativism. Not only moral relativism, but even the relativism of facts. I've already mentioned how Haidt ends up stepping into relativism and being uncomfortable with it. The speaker may feel similarly, as she unambiguously identified with one side of the political spectrum. So she seems to carry this relativism half-way down several diverging paths.

One is the idea that facts don't really matter to people if they challenge their views. Yes, this is important if your goal is political persuasion. But nothing in this talk, or in Haidt's work, is particularly useful for political strategy. If you want to get your favorite people elected and your preferred policies enacted, the book you should read is Moral Politics by George Lakoff. You won't learn much about neuroscience research from it, but you will understand how to connect with a conservative (or liberal) audience. Lakoff's explanation of two political camps based on two models of moral values ("strict father" and "nurturing parent") is far more parsimonious than Haidt's six-dimensional moral matrix.

This path also leads to a cliff. In an attempt to convince us how little people care about facts, the speaker tried to demonstrate that "we" reject inconvenient facts just like the "nut jobs" do. Pox on both houses! Both sides do it! Of course, that is my biggest pet peeve. I am happier listening to five ultraconservative nut jobs than to one liberal who keeps saying "both sides do it". So the speaker asked:
When you hear a study that confirms your views, do you ask "What methods did they use? What was that person's background?"
I don't know what irked me more: that she asked that, assuming the answer was obvious (and negative), or that the audience laughed, signaling acceptance of the assumption. But the assumption is preposterous: my answer is clearly "yes". I even yelled from my seat: "Some of us do!" If that was uncivilized, so be it.

Ironically, in another part of the talk, the speaker advised against assuming what other people think:
If there's anything that drives me more nuts than being told I'm wrong, it's being told "Well, you think…" (...) Don't tell me what I think because you're stereotyping me."
Guess what? You told me what I think, and you assumed wrong. I always scrutinize studies, regardless of which side their results support. A meta-study once showed that the majority of papers published in top-tear medical journals are wrong. I am not aware of a similar meta-study in social sciences, but I would bet the results would be even worse. There are a lot of bad studies; there is even more bad journalistic reporting about studies. You should always be skeptical. "Constant vigilance!" as Mad-Eye Moody would say.

Now, being skeptical toward all studies is one thing; thinking that both sides cheat equally is quite another. Note, for example, that Paul Krugman often shows the models and reasoning behind his positions in his blog. His critics, not so much. There is a reason that the saying "facts have a well-known liberal bias" has become a cliché.

(At one point the speaker showed a slide juxtaposing the photos of Ann Coulter and Michael Moore. That was so wrong I wanted to throw eggs. When a conservative does that to me, it is a conversation stopper: the parallel is crazy; if you don't see it, you don't live on the same planet as me.)

Another path to relativism is inherent in the idea of understanding each other's values and finding commonalities instead of thinking of the other as mentally deficient. This is fine, but Haidt's own work shows that it is completely illogical as an advice to liberals. Namely, if there are six fundamental values, and liberals care about three of them, while conservatives care about all six, then the commonalities lie in the three values liberals care about. Conservatives need to understand that only those three are universal values. Don't tell me to look for commonalities in things we don't have in common! In fact, I abhore the values of authority and sanctity. (Loyalty sounds ambivalent: usually good in the private sphere, but bad in the public sphere. But as I've seen Haidt denoting it "ingroup/loyalty", I suppose I'd abhore it, too, if I saw the full definition.) Those "values" are harmful and destructive. Haidt acknowledges that, as I've pointed out. So why should we try to connect with them rather than fight against them? On the other hand, conservatives already care about liberal values, so they should focus on what we have in common and shut up about the rest.

That was tongue-in-cheek, of course. I cheated, by pretending that I accept Haidt's moral matrix. In fact, I find it highly suspect. Liberty? Makes me wonder if he has ever discussed liberty with a conservative. Because the word means very different things to liberals and to conservatives. Ditto for fairness. I don't know, if I read the book, maybe I would find the substance of the moral matrix concept convincing. But, at the very least, Haidt chose unfortunate terms, which do not contribute to a better understanding between liberals and conservatives.

Related to "commonalities" is the advice to speak to the others' values. There were some good examples (although I'd say in each case the victory facilitated by this strategy was minor), but also an example I detested. It was about the environment, and the thesis was that it is the area in which secular people can understand sanctity. Well, this secular person (and liberal, and environmentalist) does not! Please do not ascribe New Age nonsense to me. Please follow your own advice and don't tell me I think X because I am liberal. There is nothing sacred about nature. I just want my descendants to have decent lives, for which they'll need a livable environment. As for appealing to the sanctity of Creation to get the Evangelicals to size down their SUVs and reduce dumping chemicals on their lawns, that's fine if it works, but be aware that it's deception. I have no problem with that; I'll take Machiavelli over Kant anytime. Just don't deceive yourself that you are connecting when you are in fact manipulating.

Yet another path to relativism was short, but steep. Part of advice #2 ("put aside right and wrong") was not to say "You are wrong!" when someone gives you, in speaker's words, "facts you completely disagree with". Ugh. Facts are true or false. My agreement with them is irrelevant. And there is no hope of reaching any kind of understanding if we don't agree on facts. While this may be a good tactical advice for political persuasion, it is a bad advice for true understanding. One thing I agree with, though. I don't say "You are wrong!" Rather, I say "That's not true." It is good to keep disagreement from becoming personal. I try to follow that principle knowing full well that most people won't notice the difference. They'll hear it as "You are a liar!" Nevertheless, let the error be theirs!

I do not mean to imply that the speaker holds a post-modern, relativist view of factual truth. I did not get that impression at all. The message I got was primarily that facts don't convince people, and that's fair. But it's only true in a limited sense. If someone is convinced that Obama is a foreign-born Muslim, there may be no way to disabuse them of that nonsense, but five years from now it will be irrelevant, so insisting on facts now may be a waste of time. But if someone believes the world is 6,000 years old and it will end in our lifetime, that necessarily shapes their views of ethics and policy, and that will not change when someone else is in the White House.

In discussing my two fundamental problems with the talk (incoherence of goals and promotion of relativism), I touched on a lot of its specific points. I'll finish by addressing three more specific claims, which I recognize as versions of oft-stated, but poorly supported chunks of conventional wisdom. (I am not going to quote exactly, but I believe I am paraphrasing fairly.)

Our culture has become toxic because we surround ourselves with people who think alike. This is evident in political polarization by counties or ZIP codes. I don't buy this. The fact is that our political parties have become more aligned with ideology (which may be good or bad, but at least it makes sense) and with urban and near-suburban vs. exurban and rural interests. So it is probably true that voting patterns within ZIP codes have become more homogeneous. (I haven't seen data on that, but I find the claim plausible.) But it says nothing about people intentionally segregating by ideology. You can't jump to that conclusion from voting data, and I doubt there are good ZIP-level repeated surveys of ideological positions. Even if ideological segregation were increasing, would that make the society more "toxic" (in the sense of dehumanizing "others", i.e., tribal)? While I can trace the logic of ideological segregation leading to equating belonging to a community with belonging to an ideology or party, and that leading to reinforcing tribalism, it seems like a stretch, especially in a highly mobile society like ours. Finally, is our culture more toxic than it used to be? I'd say the general trend is quite the opposite. We have become less racist, less homophobic, less distrusting of people with different religious backgrounds, more respectful of people with disabilities, etc. True, we are witnessing an explosion of racism disguised as conservative politics in response to the election of the first black president, but I don't think it can reverse the long-term trends, as evidenced by the fact that virtually all culprits feel a need to disguise their bigotry.

Read and watch the other side's media. You don't have to watch Fox News or listen to Rush Limbaugh; maybe start with George Will. But stop reading just things that reinforce our own beliefs. We need to understand what the argument is on the other side and where they're coming from. This is partly terrible advice and partly just doesn't make any sense. Let's start with things that make no sense. A clear implication is that we are watching "our side's media". But that beast doesn't exist. There is no mainstream liberally-biased media, with the exception of a few prime-time shows on MSNBC, and their bias generally stops at the choice of topics and questions. How many examples can you cite of Rachel Maddow telling lies on her show? (I don't watch any of it, so my question is not rhetorical. But I bet the answer would be very short.) In fact, the only media I listen to is the other side's media. I listen to NPR on my commute—Morning Edition on the way to work, Marketplace on the way home—and every day I hear some right-wing crap. Yes, most of it is crap because there are no good right-wing arguments. And the ones aired on NPR are probably as good as they get.

(OK, I occasionally switch to Democracy Now! in the morning, if I happen to be driving between 8 and 9. They report the facts, unlike other news programs, and then occasionally blame the facts on Global Capitalism, which I guess makes them left-wing. So again, how many times did you hear Amy Goodman lie? Not to mention that few liberals I know ever listen to that program.)

First of all, if you want to understand anything, you have to stop watching all mainstream news programs. You can read the New York Times, preferably supplemented with some foreign news sources. And you need to read a variety of blogs and follow the discussions among them. But if you are a liberal Democrat and hope to find the argument on the other side, you'll be disappointed. There is no quality argument that can reasonably be associated with "the other side". Reasoned conservatives have generally been ostracized by the Republican Party, so they are really in no-man's land. Reading them may be intellectually satisfying, but it won't give you any insight about "your nut job relatives" because I guarantee that your nut job relatives don't get their ideas from, say, Bruce Bartlett.

It's bad advice to read nonsense and try to understand it. At best, you'll waste your time; at worst, your health will suffer. You may as well try to attend fundamentalist sermons and try to understand where they are coming from. If you are not very good at spotting bullshit, you can use it for training, but that's all it can be good for.

I can foresee responses saying that this is too blunt or not constructive because it is just calling those people crazy or stupid. Well, yes, I wasn't the one proposing that we shouldn't. Or at least their arguments. I do believe many right-wing writers are sane and intelligent. They'll just write whatever works to establish them as conservative pundits.

Which brings us to George Will. George Fucking Will!? You gotta be kidding me. Nobody should read that dishonest piece of shit, ever. When did he write anything other than lies and manipulation? And how would reading him be constructive? If you took him as representative of conservative thought, what could you conclude other than that conservatives are lying assholes? (One exception is when Will writes about people with disabilities. Then he can show some empathy, respect, and decency. That is because he has a son with with a disability. I don't know if this makes him less bad or even worse.)

Anyone objecting to these characterizations, I challenge you to provide examples to the contrary.

And the last myth: We need to get out from behind our computers. If we tell a story with a human face from our side, it won't be from behind the computer. Oh, I guess that invalidates this entire post, as I obviously wrote it from behind my computer. It also contradicts the advice to read conservative pundits; guess where they write their columns. Seriously, abstaining from any one mode of communication, let alone the most pervasive one, will not help anyone get their message across. Sure, communication on the Internet includes idiotic flame wars and posting comments on articles that get thousands of comments that no one sane reads. But writing a blog and judiciously posting comments on blogs is a way to reach a much wider audience than most people can realistically hope to reach face-to-face. Same holds for message boards. Even Facebook is useful, if nothing else, to avoid repeating the same thing dozens of times to people who may or may not want to hear it. In fact, as soon as I publish this post, I will mention it on Facebook. It will be the fastest and least intrusive way to invite the people who may be the most interested in reading it.

Jul 8, 2012

Catching up with the Oscars

It's hardly timely to talk about the Oscars in July, but I finally saw all of this year's Best Picture nominees, and that is an unusual accomplishment for me. Last time it happened ten years ago, and there were only five nominees then. So I have to give my two cents, even if they are only worth one by now.
Last year seems to have been a pretty good one for movies. I loved four of the nominated films, and there may be others that should have made the list. For example, I haven't seen The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo yet, but, if the critics are right that it is at least not much worse than the Swedish version, it may make my top five.
A more curious feature of this year's list of nominees is how many common themes some of them share. The Artist and Hugo are tributes to old silent movies. Hugo and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (EL&IC) are about unique boys obsessively searching for a message from their tragically deceased fathers. The Artist and Midnight in Paris are tributes to the 1920s (and Hugo straddles that decade, in a sense), with the American Woody Allen taking us to Paris as the literary and artistic capital of the world of that time, and the Frenchman Michel Hazanavicius taking us to Hollywood, the movie capital of the world (and then again, American Martin Scorsese reminding us that, before Hollywood existed, it was Paris where the movies were born).
As Hugo's and Oskar's (in EL&IC) relationships with their fathers are left unfinished by the fathers' untimely deaths, so is Matt King's (George Clooney) relationship with his wife in The Descendants, and he, too, searches for clues from the past, sometimes obsessively. War Horse completes the list of movies set in the early 20th century, and The Help and The Tree of Life add two more to a more general theme of revisiting a decade of that century.
Finally, fatherhood is a strong theme running through several nominated films—Moneyball, The Tree of Life (oddly, Brad Pitt plays the father in both), The Descendants, EL&IC, and, to a lesser extent, Hugo and War Horse. Mothers, on the other hand, are downplayed: they are long deceased (Hugo) or brain dead (The Descendants) or being uninteresting to the plot as a non-antagonistic antagonist (Moneyball) or very passive (The Tree of Life, admittedly in the spirit of the 1950s) or the least developed character (EL&IC). In The Help, no white woman knows how to be a mother. Only in War Horse is the mother an active, strong character with some depth.
On to the rankings and thoughts about individual movies:
9. The Tree of Life. It is often said that people either hate or love this film, but I do neither. At least, its cinematography is beautiful enough that it kept me watching to the end. However, it is not a movie; rather, it is a very long PowerPoint presentation, occasionally interrupted by fragments of a movie. And those fragments, while making sense on their own, never connect with the most dramatic event, which remains only implied and not contemporaneous with any other part of the story. An unusual movie-watching experience, and interesting enough to discuss, but not a movie I'd recommend.
8. The Help. This one had a lot of potential: the actors are great and the story is excellent... that is, excellent as pure fiction. But, in historical context, I find it utterly unbelievable that a story like this would end as it does—relatively well, without major harm to any of the protagonists or their families. Overall, it paints a naively rosy picture of the segregated South. This is probably how a young urban person of the 2010s imagines the end of the Jim Crow era, but it ain't the real thing and, in the end, it feels like a fairy tale. If you want to rectify history, do it brazenly and kill Hitler, as Tarantino did in Inglourius Basterds. Don't just make us feel good about the otherwise plausible setting.
7. Moneyball. A big step up from the bottom two—I actually liked this one a lot. That I am not a baseball fan is an understatement; I don't even understand baseball. But the movie is not so much about baseball as it is about effecting change in established, often ossified, organizations. In that respect, it reminded me of Searching for Bobby Fischer, which wasn't about chess, but about challenges of raising talented children. Parenting is a side story here, but important for defining Billy Beane as a human being, and it is nice to see in a movie that busy, divorced, imperfect fathers can love their children, too. This is a Brad Pitt you'd much rather have as your father than the 1950s family man in The Tree of Life.
6. War Horse. A challenge to rank, as most other nominees are human character dramas for adults, and this one is unabashedly an older kids' or "young adults'" tale, a combination of a horse biography (reminiscent of Black Beauty) and a coming-of-age story. The movie is very well made, as you would expect from Spielberg. The story is good, even if it doesn't feel very original. The amazing coincidences are par for the genre, although the timeline is rather strained, as the thoroughbred seems to have somehow survived about 3 years of pulling German artillery. Maybe American moviemakers forgot how long World War I was for those who fought in it from the beginning?
5. The Descendants. A really nice human story about a family whose ties are deeper and stronger than its dysfunction. The protagonist, an imperfect man surrounded by slightly more imperfect people, tries to do the right thing for his family, business, and the intersection of the two. Does he succeed? The movie gets enough under the skin of each character that, in the end, I didn't think that was a relevant question to ask. A minor gripe: I didn't care for the narration-heavy beginning.
4. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I give five star to each of the top four, so maybe on a different day I might have ranked this movie even higher. It was the most pleasant surprise of the bunch: I knew very little about it beforehand, and I loved it. 14-year-old Thomas Horn is excellent as Oskar Schell, a boy who may or may not have Asperger's—he is just different enough to be interesting, but not so different as to make it difficult for a typical viewer to identify and empathize with him. It is part of his personality to never stop searching and asking questions. Sometimes he is afraid to ask, or to do things he needs to get the opportunity to ask, but he finds ways to ask anyway. Oh, and by no means is Oskar the only interesting character in the movie, but it would be hard to say much more without revealing some spoilers.
3. Midnight in Paris. Woody Allen's creative genius is not showing any signs of aging, even though he has become too old to play his protagonists and has to cast younger actors to play, well, him. (I never knew Owen Wilson was such a good actor—he completely transformed into a younger Woody Allen.) The idea of making a movie about a writer hopping in time to the 1920s and back, and meeting his literary idols, appears exceedingly silly when described in so few words, but, incredibly enough, it works perfectly... like a painting by Salvador Dalì (who appears in the movie, played by Adrien Brody).
2. Hugo. A masterpiece of cinematography; I watched it twice, on two consecutive days, because it was so visually rich that one viewing wasn't enough to absorb it all. It had all the magic of the first Harry Potter movie, but with a darker and more mysterious air of a Philip Pullman story. (An automaton in search of a heart is reminiscent of Pullman's Count Karlstein.) And that's before it even gets to the early movies, which are the main reason Scorsese made this film. Asa Butterfield was so good as Hugo that I'm looking forward to Ender's Game primarily to see his performance as Ender.
1. The Artist. The best picture doesn't always win the Best Picture, but this time it did. Michel Hazanavicius is probably bat-shit crazy, as that is the only way one could get the idea to make a silent, black-and-white, 4:3 aspect ratio, movie in 2011. He is also a genius, as the product of his madness is a great movie. It is entertaining, dramatic, plays by the rules of the genre and time in which it is set, all the while breaking the rules of the medium, playing with sounds and silence, reminding us that we are watching a silent movie just when we get into it so much that we forget. He even makes great use of the narrow format, emphasizing vertical direction, for example in the symbolic stairway scene when George, on his way down, bumps into Peppy, on her way up. And before you protest that the symbolism is too obvious and thus with little merit, remember: this is the 1920s!

May 27, 2012

A Brief History of Gnash Equilibrium

I am hoping to revive this blog in the near future, so for any new readers, here is a selection of old posts. Let's start with politics; after all, it's the dust out of which blogosphere was created. I haven't written much since the last presidential election, so the political posts are mostly from 2008:

I told you so, back when the crisis started. (Be sure to follow the link in the post, too. And all links in all blog posts. Blog posts are often meaningless out of context.) Unfortunately, Obama has broken the wrong promises.

I was a big Obama fan in 2008 and most of my posts reflected that. But my loyalty is to principles and truth, not to any candidate. So I occasionally defended McCain and attacked Obama. Ironically, the latter was one of the most visited posts on this blog.

Nobody has ever won an election by attracting only smart voters. Politicians need stupid people.

Tell me if you think I am a closeted Republican. :)

I still hope this was a correct assessment, but I am not so sure anymore. :(

And how would you expect a numbers and trivia guy to cover a presidential election?

After the election: sadly, still true, 3 years later.

It is often hard to tell the difference between real-life politics and satire. So a selection of my satirical posts should come right after politics:

Election Jeopardy!

Fun with Republican candidates... in 2008 (and they weren't any better this time around).

Barack Obama stole my puppy. Or worse.

My comment on Al Gore's Nobel Prize.

Remember the "Celeb" ad? I translated it to plain English.

I am an economist and actuary, so I often write about economics:

A brief history of income tax rates.

Why I am not a Mankiwite.

I also write about math, numbers, and numeracy:

The forgotten Eleventh Commandment (more useful than the first ten).

How risky is it to swim outside when a storm is approaching? Not that I'd recommend it, but I still don't know.

I like facts to be true:

One of my pet peeves: historical revisionism. In any context.

And I value freedom of religion, and freedom from religion:

The most bipartisan fun in America: bashing atheists.

Challenging the lazy conventional ethics of abortion.

When the Right doesn't like public prayer.

Update: Some links were messed up. I think I fixed them all.

Jul 16, 2011

Don't mess with Texas!

“If English was good enough for Jesus Christ, it ought to be good enough for the children of Texas.”
—Ma Ferguson, 29th Governor of Texas (possibly apocryphal)

“Being able to own things that are your own is one of the things that makes America unique.”
—Rick Perry, 47th Governor of Texas (for real)

Where do they find these people?

Gallup asks a stupid question

If they asked me, how the hell would I know what they mean by "spending cuts" and "tax increases"? They don't specify the baseline (status quo). Is letting the Bush tax cuts expire a "tax increase"? Is not doing another "doc fix" (or doing a partial one) a "spending cut"? Asking such a vague question almost guarantees that everyone who understands it will refuse to answer, and hence only those who don't know what they are talking about will participate in the survey. Maybe that explains the scary answers given.

A lot more people say they prefer spending cuts than tax increases. That's crazy by any interpretation, but it is even worse if people tend to understand those terms the way I think they do, which is that anything that causes taxes to go up from where they are today is a tax increase (i.e., it doesn't matter that the Bush tax cuts are scheduled to expire; when they go up, it's a tax increase). In that case, even equal shares of tax increases and spending cuts would require radically shrinking the government.

And only 11% of respondents prefer mostly or exclusively tax increases. Heck, only 20% of Democrats prefer mostly or exclusively tax increases. We have found the enemy, and it is us.

May 24, 2010

Why did liberals give the Second Amendment away?

Unfortunately, most liberals are wusses. They let conservatives interpret and own the Second Amendment. So when Scalia made up the individual right to own firearms for the purpose of self-defense (an outstanding example of true judicial activism), liberals had only milquetoast counter-arguments. When Elena Kagan faces the Senate Judiciary Committee, she will make a generic statement that she supports the Second Amendment, without challenging Scalia's interpretation. Democratic politicians do it all the time, even if they really do not believe in any of the reasoning in Heller.

That makes liberals look like an unprincipled bunch, cherry-picking the Constitution. In fact, they are stupidly squandering the opportunity to take the high ground in every respect.

Scalia's interpretation makes no sense. There can't be a right to own all weapons - I bet Scalia would not support Heller's right to keep nuclear bombs in his home - so where do you draw the line? If handguns must be allowed, can bazookas be banned? Probably, but that is just as arbitrary as saying that swords must be allowed, but guns can be banned. There is no principled way to determine the limits of this "right".

By contrast, the interpretation that makes complete sense is that the Second Amendment guarantees the right to serve in the military. That is what "to bear arms" means. People don't "bear arms" when they go hunting; that is not, and never has been, the idiomatic use of that phrase. This interpretation fits well in the context. It makes the "well-regulated militia" reference relevant, and the right recognized by the amendment meaningfully curbs a practice that was common in the 18th century, to limit military service (or officer ranks) to upper classes.

This interpretation was politically meaningful in the 18th century, and it is politically meaningful now. It makes it unconstitutional to deny the right of military service to homosexuals. (That it is currently denied only to those homosexuals who do not hide their sexual orientation does not change anything. A whole class of citizens is excluded, it's just that the government is limited in the ways it can ascertain membership in that class.)

Why is no politician using this argument? Where are the liberal jurists or law professors arguing for this view? I googled gay military "second amendment" and the top hit that combined the terms in this sense (and the sixth hit overall - the top five were not relevant) was a comment on a blog. Kudos to ober from albany ny for comment #9 here:
The second amendment of the US Constitution says "A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." If this is true, that we have a right to bear arms, then how can the government stop its citizens from joining the military? It seems to me that gays have a right to join the club. And the second amendment guarantees a person's right to join the military. If the military is not open to all of the country's people, then that might allow factions to gain control of it. A country whose military is dominated by one group may turn on the others: Can tyranny be far behind?

That's right. Notice the inanity of the reply by one Capt, USMCR:
There is no right to join the military. There's a duty to serve, but not a right to serve. If you can't see well enough to shoot - is it a civil rights issue? Should we tell the Marine Corps that the policy/slogan "every Marine is a rifleman" is a civil-rights violation? The right to bear arms, n the other hand, belongs to all citizens, whether members of the military or not. The 2nd amendment's militia isn't the military - it's a hypothetical draft of every able-bodied man - assumed to have acquired competence with a rifle on his own in the woods. I just hope that my legally blind neighbor sticks to knives and baseball bats.

That's just silly. Freedom of expression does not mean that an illiterate person is entitled to have an op-ed published in New York Times. Marriage and reproductive rights do not mean that the most repulsive guy in the world can force some woman to marry him and bear his children. And equality of rights in education does not mean that those who cannot pass first grade are entitled to finish college. Of course competence is required, but exclusion of a whole class unrelated to ability is clearly forbidden in all analogous situations.

Aug 13, 2009

You said the T-word! Tee-hee-hee-hee!

On any normal day, Brendan Nyhan is worth reading. But this was silly. Yes, Pearlstein's word choice was sloppy, for reasons explained by Yglesias, but Nyhan is making a mountain out of a molehill. He is actually counter-productive, as he accuses a bunch of people of joining in the smear based on their endorsement of Pearlstein's article. But Pearlstein's article is indeed very good, with the exception of those two words. One shouldn't get so stuck on those two words to discard the rest of the article. And I wonder what Nyhan would have said if Pearlstein had characterized the Republicans correctly.

Aug 12, 2009

Preview of future Investors' Business Daily editorials

Stephen Hawking is a tough act to follow, but they may try some of the following:

Mikhail Gorbachev wouldn't have had a chance in the USSR; if he had tried his reforms there, he would have been sent to the Gulag.

If LBJ had ever been elected President in his own right, maybe he would have had some credibility for the policies he pushed.

The Beatles would never had become famous if they had tried to compose their own songs; they probably had no creative talent at all.

If New Yorkers ever experienced a terrorist attack, they wouldn't be such unpatriotic latte-sipping liberals.

If Mark Twain had ever traveled to the Mississippi river, he wouldn't have written such unrealistic nonsense about it and the people living around it.

If Martin Luther King, Jr. had grown up in the South, he'd never had gotten the education to become a minister.

If Charles Darwin had seen the Galapagos islands, he would have realized that only the Almighty God could have designed the beaks of all those finches.

(P.S. IBD has now "corrected" the editorial. That's futile; such idiocy is incorrigible and eternal.)