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February 23, 2009

An open secret

I’m sitting in a rather cramped café in the basement of the Hart Senate office building. It has all the ambiance of an airport Starbucks, although the patrons are rather better dressed: surrounding me are men and women with suits, solemnly talking.

I am on Capitol Hill for a visit with the Society for Conservation Biology, trying to strengthen the role of science in environmental policymaking. It is the first time I’ve really delved into the odd self-contained world of Capitol Hill office building. There are numerous café, restaurants, an Alexander Calder sculpture, and miles of marble, connected by a maze of tunnel. Everywhere there are signs reminding people that certain elevators, or hallways, or cash registers are limited only to “members” or their staff. Everywhere there are folks whispering the names of Senators or Representatives, but seldom is a politician actually seen.

Despite the secrecy, it is a remarkably open system. One could never just walk in without appointment to the headquarters of IBM or GM. But almost anyone can walk through the metal detectors and enter this other world. Moreover, one can really walk into the offices of your Congressman and leave them information on an issue (whether it actually influences what they do is much more doubtful). America should take pride in having such an open system, despite the security challenges I’m sure it poses.

January 21, 2009

Long time coming

Each person in Washington this Inauguration weekend had their own singular moment, when one fully realized how historic the event was. For many people it may have been the moment where Barack Obama stood on the west steps of the Capitol and took the oath. For me, for personal reasons the moment was during Sunday’s concert at the Lincoln Memorial, when some musicians covered Sam Cooke’s famous song, “A Change is Gonna Come”.

I suspect the organizers of the event meant this as a not-so-subtle play on one of Barack Obama’s campaign slogans, as well as symbolically linking Barack Obama’s achievement with the broader civil rights struggle. Martin Luther King Jr., of course, gave his famous speech from the very same steps where the musicians were performing. For me, though, there was another more personal relationship with the song, perhaps less important than the implications for African-Americans but for me more resonant. The first song at my wife and I’s wedding was another cover of the same song, by Otis Redding. We picked the song because for us we knew personal change was coming- marriage and adulthood and perhaps children. But there also was apolitical meaning, for we met at a protest against the Iraq War, and we hoped change would come politically to America as well.

And so there was something personally fulfilling about hearing that song played. We are older now, and were at the concert with our son. We have recently moved to DC, and suddenly the political tone of the place has changed. And possibly the Iraq War, which has hovered over our relationship since its inception, will begin to draw to a close. Hearing the song made me realize how interesting it is to be alive right now. It’s been a long time coming.

August 07, 2008

Suskind's book and the shocking quiet in Washington

Washington in the summertime is a hot, sweltering place, inundated by tourists. It’s perhaps a sign of how new I am to the city that I have withdrawn to my favorite Washington monument, Jefferson’s marble temple overlooking the tidal basin. I like this monument not for its grandeur but for a particular line etched on its side: “Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just.” I have thought often what Jefferson meant when he wrote that line, and about what it means today.

One of the odd things about living in Washington is that the city loses its symbolic meaning. Even for those power brokers who actually run this amorphous mass of a government, I daresay the District loses some of its luster. It becomes the terrain of a grand battle for power and money but stops being perceived in a visceral sense as the seat of the Republic.

One sees this attitude, I think, in the anemic response of the Washington press corp to the revelations that came out of Ron Suskind’s new book. To review: a Pulitzer Prize-winning author publishes information, confirmed by several sources on the record, that claims that people in the Bush Administration ordered the CIA to forge a document that linked Saddam Hussein’s regime to Al Qaeda, misleading the nation into a bloody war and clearly violating the law banning the use of CIA to promulgate domestic propaganda. And yet there is not particularly a sense of urgency today; there are not hordes of television journalists being filmed in front of the White House, intoning about the crisis of the presidency. The TV media has covered it in a “he-said, he-said” sort of way. The major newspapers have remained awfully restrained, perhaps waiting for their own reporters to confirm Suskind’s findings (an important step).

I suppose I wonder, on days like this, whether any action by the government could shatter the symbolism of the National Mall and make them see the city as its power brokers appear to: as a battlefield. Or perhaps not: even in the times of Nero the Roman Senate still went through the motions of meeting, and I’m sure visitors to Rome still went to tour their chamber.

January 31, 2008

Edwards' gift to the campaign

Yesterday, John Edwards ended his campaign as he began it, in New Orleans talking about poverty and injustice. It was a sad day for me personally, to see a candidate I volunteered for lose. It was still a useful few months for me, to believe and then to lose that belief. I saw something of the American political process while volunteering. It is an odd beat whose teeny base of retail politicking (rallies, speeches, etc.) supports the giant head of the media freak show. Positive feedback loops rule the media freak show: the media declares a candidate is viable because s/he has some support, and that declaration makes the candidate more viable. Money and fame and power beget more of the same. I don’t mean to be cynical: ideas do matter, in the sense that candidates with compelling themes and rhetoric do better than other candidates without these. But policy differences, the differences in the actions candidates would take when in office, matter relatively little.

Most of the media commentary following Edwards’ withdrawal focused on why he lost the race. Sometimes commentators divined what his departure would do Obama and Clinton’s poll numbers. Missing was a thoughtful reflection on how Edwards presence in the race affected the policy positions of the other two major Democratic candidates. Edwards pushed early for universal health care coverage, and Clinton followed his lead. Edwards’ environmental plan called for drastic government action to ease American dependence on foreign oil was incorporated into Obama and Clinton’s plans. Most important, Edwards discussion of poverty made the others start to address that issue as well. Edwards’ presence took two moderate candidates and made them pledge to support some progressive ideals. It remains to be seen whether they would stick to those pledges if elected, but at least we can hold them to their word. This influence on actual policy issues was Edwards’ real gift to the campaign.

January 22, 2008

What Washington, DC, means today

I recently got to spend almost a week in Washington, DC. I’ve been thinking ever since about what Washington symbolizes, both to those who work there and to the rest of America.

To the rest of America, Washington has become synonymous with corruption in government. For a politician, to have spent too long “inside the Beltway” is a political liability, a sign of being out of touch with reality. Yet the architecture of DC still plays this symbolic role, reporters always standing in front of the Capitol while talking generally about American democracy. Americans love what these monuments to the Constitution symbolize, they are just deeply distressed about how low the art of governing has descended in recent decades.

To those who I’ve talked to who actually live in DC, the experience is considerably more multifaceted. First of all, there is the mass of citizens who have little to do with how the Federal Government operates. They watch the shenanigans of the government on TV with the rest of us, feeling vaguely embarrassed. For those in the government, at least the majority who are career civil servants (not to mention those idealistic folks in different NGOs), they feel rather hurt by the low public opinion of Washington. The work done by these civil servants is mostly non-political, the dull but extremely important task of administering a large country. Waves of political appointees come and go (most of them never really seeing Washington as anything other than a symbol), but beneath them the civil servants continue. This is both a very positive thing (a government needs continuity) and a sometime negative thing (the ship of state turns very slowly indeed).

I thought about all this as I wandered about the Mall and L’Enfants Washington. For me, it was personal, for I am seriously thinking about leaving Harvard’s ivory towers and going to work in DC at an environmental NGO. I feel at peace with this decision professionally, for it’s where I think I can do the most good for the environment. Yet it is indeed a weird time to move to DC, morally. The government, particularly the military-industrial complex (Eisenhower’s phrase, not mine), is arguably more powerful and more corrupt than ever before. I wonder sometimes what Cicero felt working in Rome (before his exile, at least). I suspect he felt similar to how all those career civil servants feel today: proud of their own work, still optimistic about their country’s potential, yet vaguely worried that more powerful tides are slowly pulling the ship of state toward dangerous shoals.

January 04, 2008

Cultural independence and the EU

I’ve been traveling over the holidays, first to Brittany and now to Catalonia. It strikes me that despite the many differences- in language and cuisine and temperament- between them, the two regions have something in common.

Both are jealously guarding their cultural and linguistic heritage, and attempting to regain a sense of cultural independence from their nation.
Brittany has celtic roots, including a celtic language Breton, which have persisted despite Gallic dominion for centuries. They maintained this independence mostly intact (it seems like every Breton village has a pub named Duchess Anne) until the French revolution centralized power and crushed the last vestiges of independence. In recent decades there’s been a resurgence of interest in Breton culture, with signs everywhere listing place names in Breton, although it’s still rare to hear somebody actually speaking Breton. In one store I even saw a T-shirt that redrew the iconic photo of Che Guevara to make him look like a Breton farmer.  This was at least more politically accurate than the last French reinterpretation of Che Guevara I saw, a diamond-encrusted sweater for sale on the rue St.-Germain.

Catalonia has followed much the same trajectory. A great deal of cultural independence, the last traces of which were crushed by Franco, followed in recent decade by a resurgence of regional pride. Catalan is commonly spoken, giving it a life Breton lacks.

There’s something paradoxical about this regional resurgence of cultural independence at a time when the EU is attempting greater integration. Perhaps it’s because the EU reforms are at an economic and political level, whereas the “cultural independence” of Brittany (at least) is at a more symbolic level. When nation-states felt weak they wanted to erase regional differences, whereas now in the EU regional differences become a valuable tourist and marketing attraction.

December 10, 2007

Blessed Unrest: a review

Paul Hawken’s new book, entitled Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming, makes a simple argument in a straightforward fashion. This makes the book infinitely more readable than another book that makes a similar argument in incomprehensible poetic prose, Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire by Antonio Negri and Michael Hardt . The only problem with the clarity of Hawken’s argument is that it brings into full relief its deficiencies.

The book begins by chronicling the rapid rise of the NGO, both in sheer numbers and in political power. Somehow, this multitude of NGOs is part of “The Movement”, heading toward a consistent vision of a better world. Hawken makes an analogy to an immune system, where thousands of different cells each do one tiny thing and together the whole system creates a collective property called “immunity.” Another analogy (which Hawken doesn’t make) would be the similarity to free market economies, where thousands of firms each independently just try to make money but overall the system achieves “efficiency”. The clear message of the book is that even if only a small percentage of NGOs achieve their goals, they will help further “The Movement”.

In a sense, this kind of argument is motivated by the desire of progressives to believe we can win in the absence of a single unifying ideology. The principle problem with the argument is the fuzzy concept of a “Movement”. The diversity of NGOs is staggering, and I don’t see any real coherent goal that they all share. In fact, many more conservative NGOs (which presumably express at least somewhat real desires by real people) are working at cross-purposes with more liberal NGOs.

It’s much better to think of this explosion of NGOs as simply the birth of a global civil society. Just as we don’t expect consensus in a republic among all the elected representative, since their constituents are too diverse, neither should we expect consensus among NGOs. There’s a word for this explosion of NGOs, and it’s not “Movement”, it’s “Democracy”.

December 03, 2007

The myth of Obama's transcendence

One of the sillier cover stories I’ve ever seen just came out in The Atlantic, entitled “Why Obama Matters” by Andrew Sullivan. Sullivan’s message has been effectively echoed around the blogosphere for several weeks now. His article starts when he admits that Obama’s policy proposals- what he would actually do if president- are none too special. Sullivan claims, however, that Obama is the only candidate who can play a “transformational” role. Sullivan gives a long litany of rhetorical excesses from the left and right- Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh, that kind of thing- and then boldly claims they are all due to some mysterious Baby Boomer malady. As Obama is not a Boomer by virtue of being 8 years younger than John Edwards, these cultural divisions will magically go away.

As a rule of thumb, whenever a writer argues that somebody can transcend a problem, it usually means the author has no clear idea how to solve the problem. Sullivan lists a few transcendent factors unique to Obama, his race foremost among them. But ultimately, the argument seems to be: “elect Obama and a miracle will happen and the cultural wars will end.” It simply doesn’t seem like a credible scenario to me. No matter how high-minded Obama’s rhetoric, it will not by itself resolve deep cultural divisions in the United States.

I’ve been frustrated my whole life by Baby Boomer’s sense of nostalgia, and their even odder notion that by dint of an accident of fate they happened to have been born within some 6000 days of each other they cosmically share an identity. In a way, Sullivan’s article just does it again, placing the Boomer’s once more in the path of History. Obama is a fine candidate, and should be judged on his merits. Judge him by his credentials and his policy proposals not some mythical transcendence.

November 11, 2007

An odd week: climate change and presidential politics

It has been an odd week in climate change and presidential politics. John Edwards made an excellent speech where he referred to climate change as “the great moral test of our generation.” And so it is, for what humanity does in the next couple decades will determine the climate our grandchildren inherit. In the same week Edwards gave this powerful address, Hillary Clinton got caught staging a question about climate change at a campaign event in Iowa. What’s worse, her answer to the canned question wasn’t even that inspired or well written!

See the rest here

 

June 10, 2007

Reflections on the Marshall Plan and John Edwards

Sixty years ago this June, General George Marshall stepped into Harvard Yard and delivered what may be the most famous commencement speech of all time, proposing what came to be called the Marshall Plan. On the anniversary of Marshall’s speech, I’ve been reflecting on what has changed since 1947. The developing countries are in the midst of a massive urbanization that makes the redevelopment of Europe after WWII look puny, and yet American leadership on the international stage is nowhere to be found, making John Edwards comments at the end of the last debate so important.

Marshall’s plan involved massive transfers of funds from America to the rebuilding countries in Western Europe, totaling some $170 billion in today’s dollars. Yet as Marshall made clear, it was a bargain, for by investing in Europe’s redevelopment America was insuring its own security. As he put it, it was only “logical that the United States should do whatever it is able to do to assist in the return of normal economic health in the world, without which there can be no political stability and no assured peace.” Marshall’s key insight was that aid, properly conceived, is not charity but an essential part of national security.

After WWII, the clear link between Europe and the U.S. was direct military conflict. Marshall essentially argued that if America did not aid Europe it would have to deal eventually with another world war started in that region. Today the link is not a direct threat of interstate violence, but the growing web of transboundary issues. The increasingly globalized nature of the world economy and environment make what happens over there, in the developing world, central to what happens here in America.

And there is a lot happening over there. This year, for the first time in the history of Homo sapiens, a majority of our species live in cities. This process of urbanization will continue, driven by the greater number of deaths than births among urban dwellers, as well as rural-to-urban migration. By 2030 the United Nations Population Division estimates there will be 1.75 billion new urban residents, the equivalent of building a city the size of Vancouver every single week. More new dwellings will be built in the next 25 years than currently exist in all of Europe. If you were to push all this new urban area together, a good guess is that it will cover an area the size of California.

I spend most of my professional time thinking about one potent link between urbanization in the developing world and America’s well-being, the environment. The billions of new urban dwellers will increasingly demand more and more oil to drive their cars, as they begin to approach American standards of living. How much oil they end up using depends on the form of the coming urbanization, and whether safe and efficient mass transit is available. That in turn will affect whether over the long-term, the number of potential consumers of oil will grow faster than oil supply, resulting in much higher prices at the pump.

Additionally, there is now broad consensus in the scientific literature of the serious potential effects of global warming. Some of these effects, such as the flooding of low-lying areas and climate-change induced famines, may create large movements of refugees. One recent study by the British NGO Christian Aid predicts 250 million refugees will flee global warming’s effects, a figure several times larger than the number of displaced people during all of WWII. Just how bad global warming will be depends, in no small part, on how the poorer countries of the world grow and urbanize.

Yet American leadership during this crucial period in history is mostly absent, or at least distracted by other issues. We have engaged in a war of choice in Iraq that in one year costs us almost as much as the entire Marshall Plan. At the same time, we remain stingy with our foreign aid, giving only 17 cents in aid for every $100 our economy produces. How far we have come since Marshall’s vision of enlightened investment in a better world! If America continues to shirk its responsibilities, we will be abdicating a leadership role in the globalized world of the 21st century, to our own detriment.

And that’s why I found John Edwards comments at the end of his last debate so heartening. When asked what he highest priority would be when he got into office, he said it would be to “re-establish America's moral authority in the world”, saying that in comparison other issues “become less important and subservient.” It was a subtle answer, and perhaps one not well suited to the quick sound bite. However, it reflects exactly the kind of positive reengagement with the world that American needs.

June 04, 2007

Al Gore's Reason and the freak show

I managed, quite by accident, to read two books recently that covered the same theme in different ways. Both discussed the sphere of public debate in the United States, and its relative decline in recent decades as media sources have become more celebrity-driven. One leaves you feeling righteous, but with no practical outlet for that emotion. The other is eminently practical and useful for a politician, but leaves me feeling a little queasy.

I picked up Al Gore’s Assault on Reason at the Harvard Coop. I’ll confess to not having bought it, but instead spent a pleasant hour sitting in a chair in a bookstore, reading most of the text. Gore argues that reasoned discourse in American democracy has all but disappeared, replaced by entertainment of the basest kind. This has led, moreover, to a loss of faith in reason itself, in democratic decisions made by an informed electorate. I believe in the righteousness of Gore’s call, and its something I’ve felt myself for a long time. But I don’t believe that a hortatory call to return to reason will do much good, just as it generally has not done the environmental movement much good.

I actually listened to Mark Halperin and John Harris’s book The Way to Win during a long drive down to Millbrook, NY. The central point of the book is that the modern media freak show exists, and politicians better learn how to tame it, or at least live with it. They outline two basic paths a politicians can take: the Clinton path (play to the center) or the Rove path (play to the base). I loved the book in a Machiavellian way (although the pro-Hillary bias was strong enough that I sometimes wondered if Halpern was also moonlighting for her campaign), but what scared me was the implication that what matters in the public debate is the sincerity and vehemence of a politician’s ideas, rather than a reasoned examination of politician’s ideas.

I want to believe in another route, some path for our society that lies between these two books. It would have to be more than an elegy for our (slightly more) reasoned past. It would have to be more than a moral call to return to the values of the Enlightenment. It must somehow be consistent with the brave new media world we live in. Sadly, I don’t know what the other route is. Even Mr.Gore’s admirable book just barely beings to point the way toward a Modernism for the 21st century.

April 15, 2007

Springtime and the Iraq war

It’s finally spring here in Cambridge, in a chilly New England kind of way. There’s a nor’easter blowing through now, bringing a cold, hard rain, making the future marathoners miserable in anticipation of tomorrow. The real sign of the coming season was the delicate pink blossoms of the ornamental magnolia on my street. They are a grateful reminder that I’ve survived another winter, and a chance to muse on all that has passed since the last time these flowers bloomed.

 

Through the whole last year, the Iraq War continued. The build up to the war and its aftermath have now gone on longer than the entire process of falling in love, getting engaged, getting married, and celebrating my second wedding anniversary. Food for thought, that is. The war doesn’t seem likely to end until after January 2009, when a new president is sworn in.

 

I’ve been reading recently Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War, and it seems to have special relevance now. All historical analogies are inexact and dangerous, but I think the American body politic could learn something from the ancient Athenians. If the theatrical speeches of Thucydides are to be believed, at least Athenian politicians would talk openly of the paradox between their internal democracy, at the time one of the most open in the world, and their empire. One quote in particular stood out, describing how the wars in defense of their empire subverted democratic discourse:

 

“To fit in with the change of events, words, too, had to change their usual meanings. What used to be described as a thoughtless act of aggression was now regarded as the courage one would expect to find in a party member; to think of the future and wait was merely another way of saying one was a coward; any idea of moderation was just an attempt to disguise one’s unmanly character; ability to understand a question from all sides meant that one was totally unfitted for action.”

These meditations have left me in a melancholy mood. The magnolia tree, it now appears, will have to bloom twice more before our troops are withdrawn from Iraq. And then, if history is any guide, there will be another war somewhere else rather soon.

 

I hold out hope though that someday a set of institutions will make outright was between nations as unthinkable as an attack between Maryland and Virginia within the United States, or indeed as an attack between France and Germany within the European Union. This dream was the subject of a sparsely attend seminar this week at the Sheraton Commander hotel, entitled “Democracy and the Future.” George Soros gave a rambling keynote address, which was nicely summarized in Amartya Sen’s response. If democracy is participation in power, in the discussion within a society of what should be and shall be, then while Athens was democratic internally it ended significant democracy for many of the citizens of other states. The same is of course true, although Dr. Sen was too polite to mention it, for the United States today: unless we strive for something greater, history will also remember us for our grand democratic experiment at home and our profound failure of imagination abroad.

April 09, 2007

Why I'm supporting Edwards- an ecologist's perspective

I grew up in Chapel Hill, and even though I’ve ended up living in Cambridge I’ve kept track of what’s going on in my hometown. John Edwards has been a bit of a local celebrity for years now- heck, I even have friends of friends down there that helped build his house! Some part of me has always been rooting for his campaign out of a desire to see a local do good.

Still, I kept my distance from the campaign. I’m an environmental scientist, and scientists are notoriously reticent about getting involved with politics and losing our objectivity. Conserving the environment and stopping global warming are big issues for me, and I was waiting to see which Democratic candidate took a strong stance.

See the rest here 

January 29, 2007

Getting better estimates of UFPJ's march

There’s been much grumbling among the anti-war protestors who attended the January 27th march that the press got the numbers wrong. The Associated Press report stated “tens of thousands,” apparently because an unnamed police source suggested he thought (without having done any sort of systematic estimate) there were less than 100,000 people. United for Peace and Justice didn’t help things by claiming to have 500,000, which (having been there) was simply not credible.

As I scientist, this deeply frustrates me. This is an easy problem to solve. UFPJ needs to negotiate for a digital camera to be placed at a high location with a view of the rally site (the Washington Monument would have been perfect in this case). The camera would take a photo every 30 minutes or so, and the picture would be uploaded to the Internet. From there, someone (and I’d be happy to help) would download the picture, geometrically rectify it (this accounts for the slant of the picture, the fact that it’s not straight up and down), and then make an estimate of the crowd size (one typically counts the density of the crowd in two or three specific 100 m2 sections of the photo, then multiplies by the area of the crowd). The estimate, as well as the picture (archival and geometrically rectified) it’s based on, could then be placed on a website, in near real time. Journalists would be likely to report the estimate, as long as it was clear that the group doing the estimate was not directly affiliated with the march, and as long as they could double-check the calculation with the photos. The whole thing could probably be done for a couple thousand dollars worth of fees, rental equipment, etc., and would provide credible estimates to the press.

January 28, 2007

Postcards from an anti-war protest

I sit on the edge of the tidal basin. There is not a hint of ice on the water, and its surface is so smooth it mirrors the low-lying jets passing overhead. Other than their rumble all is quiet, save for the honks of geese and the occasional chatter of a nearby game of touch football. On moments when the wind blows right, I can smell the stables of the Park Service, a refreshing odor after the cleanness of the rest of the district. Across the water tourists swarm up the steps of the Jefferson Memorial, and many of them with anti-war placards are turned away, for of course one can’t protest without the proper authorization.


It is colder on the white marble of Jefferson’s memorial. Here, thin shards of ice swirl in the water. On rare moments a shorebird tries to stand on one of these icebergs, only to quickly topple off. On my walk here I was struck by how brutal the new WWII memorial looks, naked granite, filling part of the National Mall. If humanity has a 21st century as bloody as the one we just left, perhaps the Mall will be filled with war memorials, and they will have to cut down the cherry trees to make space. As Jefferson said, “I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just.”


I’m on the fringes now of the rally. The protestors haven’t yet filled up their designated area, even though it’s already 11pm. This doesn’t bode well for a massive turnout, but there are perhaps 50,000 people here, with more arriving every second. What fascinates me is the intricate ecology of these marches. The socialist and communist papers are hawked aggressively near the entrance- they are the bottom feeders of the march, the carrion eaters. Everywhere, college kids swarming, playing football, filling up the kid’s merry-go-round. Near the front is the stage, full of speakers and media types, who are mostly ignored by everybody. The exception is some of the preacher-types, like Jesse Jackson, that can still spur the crowd. Even Jesse’s speech was a little bizarre, coinciding as it did with a nearby tribal drumming rendition of “Give Peace a Chance,” complete with a sax being played in a decidedly Dixieland style. Bizarreness is the order of the day. There was a man pushing a grocery cart around selling cold pretzels. There were a group of folks with a sign that said “Arms are for hugging,” and they thus went around hugging people. Numerous cute babies walked around in activist costumes. A man wore a classic Minuteman colonial costume, except for 1980’s vintage running shoes.


I’m now happily sitting in Teaism in Penn Quarter, digesting my meal. The place has been taken over by activists, and has a hip bohemian vibe because of it. The march after the rally was exhausting, a slow-motion slog around the Capitol. It was pleasing to see us all stretched out, surrounding the building. Interestingly, the staffers in many of the Senate office buildings had put anti-war placards up in the windows, and a few staffers even greeted the crowd on behalf of their senator!


It’s nighttime now, and I’m looking out a plate glass window onto Connecticut Avenue. I marveled as I walked here how many contradictions float around the city. It is modern and clean, but there’s a homeless person over practically every street vent. One can sense the power that resides in the city when a black town car drives by, the man in the back wearing a tuxedo. And yet the city seems shockingly unsure of itself. To Americans, the land inside the Beltway has ceased to be a place where good happens, at least consistently (I still hold out hope), and instead is just a place of necessary secrets. You see this in some of the government servants who jog by on the Mall- they are proud of themselves for being in DC in a position of power, rather than for the good things they did with their power.

January 20, 2007

UFPJ's anti-war march on Washington

I will be in Washington on January 27, for United for Peace and Justice’s legal, permitted demonstration against the escalation of the war in Iraq. The time seems ripe now, and an effective protest may make a huge difference. The new Democratic Congress has to listen to the anti-war movement, at least to some extent, for we are part of their constituency. Moreover, the growing consensus opinion that the troop escalation is wrong (70% in a recent AP poll) adds political clout to the protest. I am also happy, frankly, that UFPJ has decided not to work with ANSWER, a more militant coalition. This will make the message of the march more focused and clear.

 

Who knows if the march will really be effective, or change any Congressman’s mind about how to vote? My opinion is that every person should have a set of bedrock moral beliefs that are not cast aside when they are inefficient. One should, or course, try to make one’s actions in support of these beliefs as politically effective as possible. A decent argument could be made that protest events are less effective as a political tool in the US than they once were. But history is mysterious, and sometimes one has to act without knowing the full consequences of one’s action. Vaclav Havel writes eloquently about this with regards to the Charter 77. At the time it was a mostly symbolic manifesto calling for more civil freedoms within the Czech communist system. In the end, the Charter ended up starting a chain of events that profoundly changed the Czech system, but no one knew in advance it would turn out that way. At some point a man has to commit to concrete actions that are consistent with his beliefs and improve the world a bit, and leave the writing of future history to the historians.

 

There is a poisonous, hip irony out there on the web that is deeply cynical about the UFPJ march. Wonkette gives probably the most egregious example, when she says “It won’t make a bit of difference, but you might get lucky with a hippie!” While I’m sure there will be a few members of the hippie species at the march, the vast majority of folks will be quite normal middle-class liberals. Wonkette’s comments reveal a deep smugness. The entire blogosphere seems to me a bit like the salons of aristocrats in Paris in the 19th century, supportive of the Enlightenment but fearful of the rabble.

 

There’s also a darker insinuation in Wonkette’s remarks, that this march is just protest for protest’s sake. Milan Kundera summarized this as kitsch:

“Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass! It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch.”

Bloggers hate this second tear, and well they should- the most important function of the blogosphere is as a BS detector. However, our hip, poisonous irony has also banished the first tear. I reject that. In a democracy, I want people to react emotionally (but legally) when their government invades a foreign country, displacing hundreds of thousands and killing an almost equal number. I want people to shed that first tear. And if that makes me un-ironic and subject to Wonkette’s well-crafted satire, then so be it.

January 03, 2007

Painting in a cave

I wrote these lines longhand, in an old tattered journal, as I do most of my blog pieces. It’s a hopelessly anachronistic practice, and rather inefficient: I still have to type my piece into the computer, of course. I suppose I stick to writing longhand because it slows my brain down, makes me think through each word. Besides, there’s something pleasant about the slowness- most sensual things are slow. Bright Eyes once compared writing on a typewriter to painting in a cave, which I suppose means I’m fingerprinting in a cave.

This curious conservatism of mine is mirrored by a methodological conservatism that all scientists share. We all believe that there are objective facts that describe a world that really exists, and that careful study of that world can teach us them. There is a hodgepodge of techniques called the scientific method that are useful rules of thumb for defining “careful study,” but the methods we use do change slowly over time. Interestingly, scientists tend to distrust skillful rhetoric- what matters is the truth content of a particular scientific theory. To be a scientist, in the ideal sense, is to be willing to abandon a theory if the evidence suggests it is necessary. Theories come and go, but the belief in an objective world and the scientific method continues.

It struck me recently that much current political debate in the US has just the opposite sort of conservatism. Certain important theories are held to always be true. Witness, for example, some conservatives’ insistence that the invasion of Iraq was the right thing to do. Similarly, some liberals continue to insist that democracy is necessary for economic growth (the empirical evidence suggests that the contrary is true). No amount of facts will convince people to abandon these sorts of theories. This sort of thing has always been around society. Still, it seems to have gotten measurable worse recently: witness a Bush administration officials statement that “We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality,” and the popularity of the satirical word “truthiness.” Through it all we scientists dream of a return to rationality, to some basic Enlightenment ideals. We are modernists, through and through, and find ourselves uncomfortably old-fashioned for being modern.

August 10, 2006

Social change definitions

During a conversation with an ex-pat American here in Paris, we were discussing the very different perspectives on social change in the United States and France. The American perspective is mostly individualistic. Social change is seen as something to be achieved by changing the hearts of individuals, and above all by reforming one’s own life. One can see this tendency in the many hours individuals of the American Left spend practicing vegetarianism, recycling, and a whole host of important but fundamentally personal things. Occasionally, this philosophy reaches the silly level where adherents think their individual small acts will somehow magically change the entire world. In contrast, the French perspective is mostly collective, the critique mostly systemic. One sees this trend most severely in the vestiges of the Communist party, whose members believe that true social change will occur only with a revolution. This too reaches the height of absurdity, as when leftists here in France refuse to participate in current politics, preferring to wait for the promised revolution. In my own politics, I’ve always believed in a position somewhere between the two poles makes the most sense. It’s about building a politics of the actual rather than a politics of the ideal. As was once said, the perfect is the enemy of the good.

July 04, 2006

Architecture and pacification

I write these words from the math library of Jussieu, on the left bank of the Seine. It is a clean, well-lighted place, with cheerful hardwood veneer tables and daylight streaming in the skylight. Nevertheless, it’s not the kind of place whose grandeur inspires, like the older style reading rooms that Mario Vargas Llosa eulogized. The ceilings are oppressively low, perhaps to save on the cost of construction, and a sunken courtyard has been thoroughly colonized by ragweed and autumn olive, growing disorderly in a heap. The library epitomizes the whole campus: space-age but somehow decrepit and a bit unfriendly. A friend who attended Jussieu told me it was designed after the tumultuous events of 1968, when students occupied most university campuses in France [I have since heard from someone else that Jussieu was almost certainly built a few years earlier than the events of 1968]. With this eventuality in mind, the architect allowed for numerous entrances to each building, and broad unenclosed courtyards, to reduce the possibility of an effective blockade. Perhaps because of this, the campus lacks a clear visual focus (excepting for the surrounding Latin Quarter, which is gorgeous), with no central entrance or portico providing a memorable vista.

It occurs to me that U.S. universities haven’t taken this step, and in fact are returning to more traditional-looking architecture after some experimentation in the 1970s and 1980s. Perhaps in part this is because the political activity and organization is so much lower among U.S. students. In a sense, American universities have sanitized their students rather than their architecture. This programme has been so successful, thanks not just to the universities but also to the broader American distrust of political organization, that the fervor of the anti-Vietnam war era is totally gone, replaced with an emphasis on achieving a profitable career. In the current context, constructing new buildings in a classical style serves to retain and strengthen the university’s brand. This is the true goal of many (but not all) American university administrators: to be able to say not just that a student received an education, but that they received our brand of education.

May 27, 2006

Heckling as free speech

There’s been much flack recently from the press about John McCain’s chilly reception at the New School in Manhattan. Howard Kurtz compiles this assault, and generally supports it. It’s a common critique, one that was trotted out in the press here in Boston when Dr. Rice gave an address at Boston College: incivilities by students and faculty toward the speaker are an attack on free speech. While I can see a grain of truth in this argument, I’ve come to believe it’s fundamentally wrong.

Everyone’s stated ideal is for open, vigorous two-way dialogue on the campuses of academia. I happen to believe that this can happen even for politicians. I once saw Representative David Price bravely defend his stance on the Iraq War in front of an audience at UNC, who got to ask questions of him for an hour and a half. All too often, however, an open debate is the last thing on a politician’s mind. The goal is a clean, crisp photo-op, with an impressive backdrop that allows the politician to borrow from the prestige of the university. Questions are rarely allowed, and if they are they are prescreened to be safe and polite to the speaker. There should certainly be no boos or catcalls or signs that might distract from the preordained message of the event. It’s important to recognize that this photo-op bears no resemblance to an open, two-way dialogue. Its purpose is in fact the exact opposite.

There’s something a bit thin-skinned about the American dislike of heckling. It’s in sharp contrast with the British system that allows for more open hostility during public discussion. Tony Blair faces more heckling in one of his weekly sessions in front of Parliament than Bush has faced in his entire presidency. I sometimes fanaticize about watching Bush wither in front of weekly pointed questions from Congress…

Something deeper is going on that causes these incivilities than mere impoliteness. They are a calculated way to puncture the media bubble that increasingly surrounds every single event of every politician. If a student body deeply resents being used as a backdrop for a photo-op, then why in the world shouldn’t they make that know by moderate incivilities? After all, McCain will still have plenty of chances to exercise his free speech rights- what’s wrong with the students squeezing in a bit of their message while they fleetingly have a chance. As a media strategy, this detournement works: we can be quite sure that Mr. Kurtz wouldn’t have discussed how the students felt about McCain’s speech if they hadn’t acted out. In a way, by being so deferential to authority the media has created the need for incivility, to puncture the media bubble.

There’s also a historical irony here, for many of those who critiqued the actions of the New School were, I suspect, supporters of moderate incivilities toward those who perpetuated the Vietnam War. I would bet, although I’m not certain, that Mr. Kurtz is in this category. I’m sure incivility to the establishment is more threatening when you’re part of it. Interestingly, Mr. Kurtz didn’t raise free speech issues when people heckled the leaders of China, or those who opposed Israeli policy in the occupied territories. The clear message to the universities is: be a useful backdrop, and stop asserting  your opinions so much.

May 15, 2006

Saving constitutionalism from Bush

News broke this week of the National Security Agency’s seizure of essentially every Americans’ calling history that they could get their hands on. I feel shocked and saddened, but not particularly surprised, given the track records of the principles involved. Interestingly, the press coverage has focused on the scope of the program (some have defended that they aren’t listening to the content of the conversations) or its effectiveness (statistically, a database of all Americans’ phone call seems likely to generate so many false positives as to be useless for law enforcement). To me, this focus seems to miss the point. The Administration has clearly intentionally violated the spirit, if not the letter, of the FISA law. It has clearly intentionally violated the spirit, if not the letter, of the 4th Amendment. What is dangerous about the Bush Administration then is not this or that action and whether it is effective, but their direct assault on the principle of constitutionalism. I mean this in the broad sense, where constitutionalism is simply the limitation of government by a set of publicly-defined, transparent laws. The reason every English-speaking schoolchild studies the Magna Carta is that it was one of the first documents of constitutionalism; the actual specifics of the rules in the Magna Carta are quite unimportant to modern men.

Whatever your political party, you have to admit that constitutionalism is central to what made the United States the great democracy that it is: we are a country of laws, not of men. What does it mean then, that some of our men of letters argue that it doesn’t matter that the president knowingly and willingly violated the law, because it was effective? When any columnist or reporter makes this argument, they are becoming, in the terminology of Milan Kundera, “the ally of their own gravediggers.” If there is no constitutionalism, if there are no rules within which democracy functions, then there are no political writers, only polemicists. Honest political writing is an effort to influence public opinion so as to democratically shape policy. If there no laws for the powerful, then writers become little more than Mark Anthony to a Caesar: skilled orators, perhaps, but not free men.

April 06, 2006

The ungovernable canard

Major protects continued this week in Paris, as students and some unions agitated against a new labor law that makes it easier to higher and fire young workers. In the Anglo-American press, the protests have generally been portrayed as a bunch of unruly kids, causing trouble. Let’s leave aside the very real policy dilemma this law tried to solve, and look instead at this characterization of French students as unruly or, even darker, “ungovernable.” This characterization is actually common whenever we discuss France, and I believe its overtones are ominous signs of our lack of respect for democracy.

Larry Summers’ ouster from his post as Harvard is another example of this canard. In the media, it is often describe as a coup by a small cabal of liberal faculty out to get Dr. Summers since he wasn’t politically correct enough. Forget for a second whether you agree with Dr. Summers’ policies or not: couldn’t one just as correctly say “a large plurality of the faculty had no confidence in his leadership, and voted to remove him”? But no, instead Harvard is now the “ungovernable university.”

I believe this particular concept of “ungovernability” is a covert attack on democracy. Democracy is participation in power, as Cicero once famously wrote. Interest groups within a democracy must have enough freedom to reflect on what is in their political interest, and then have appropriate power to agitate for what they want. Granted, the process of reflection must be reasoned and measured, not a mob mentality; granted, the amount of power an interest group can wield should not be disproportionate with their support among the general populace nor inconsistent with fundamental rights (I believe it is this caveat being violated that led New York City to be called the “ungovernable city”). However, if both these caveats obtain,, then we must view protest and agitation as an integral part of democracy.

The students in France have thought deeply about what is good for them, and are fighting for it. While we might argue that their position is not ideal for France as a whole, we must admit that the students know their own interests better than we do! Similarly, the faculty thought deeply about the Summers regime, and realized they wanted him gon. Within his constituency, therefore, it was rational that he was forced out, even if many outside Harvard were not pleased. In short, when the Anglo-American press calls a group “ungovernable” it is usually because they have the temerity to govern themselves! Behind this conception of “ungovernability” is a deep elitism, an idea that a certain elite group knows better than “they” what is best for them, and since the result desired is not occurring, the system must be flawed. Nothing could be further from the idea of democracy; vigorous and strident political debate is not inimical to democracy, but essential to it.

March 21, 2006

Fukayama's End of History and the Bush Doctrine

I just finished reading Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History and the Last Man, and I must admit to being pleasantly surprised. I went into the work with a dislike of the book absorbed from dozens of leftist writers, who often described it as an unapologetic celebration of the victory of unbridled capitalism. I was amused to see it for sale, therefore, at an airport book kiosk (the selection of philosophy books in airports is truly bizarre), and flabbergasted to find that I agreed with Fukuyama’s main points. There has been an empirical trend over the last two centuries, and both Fukuyama and I are quite happy about it, although I disagree with his characterization of the process of democratization as inevitable in a Hegelian sense (as opposed to just highly probable and highly desirable). We both agree that what drives most people to overthrow authoritarian regimes and install democratic regimes is the desire for recognition, or thymos. We both believe that to some extent the appearance of civil liberties is correlated with economic liberties, although we might disagree about the arrow of causality. And we both fundamentally feel that De Tocqueville was right: there is sometimes a tradeoff between equality and liberty.

However, Fukuyama’s work reminds me of a general malady in philosophy: any sufficiently abstract philosophy can be made to support an author’s political and class interests. He sees the particular form of economic development known as the Washington Consensus as a positive thing, even though it is far from pure economic liberty. He sees military adventures to spread democracy at the barrel of a gun as a good thing, presaging the current Bush Doctrine. Most oddly, he sees efforts to reform and strengthen the United Nations as an evil effort: democracy within nation-states is good, but apparently democracy between nation-states is bad!

Still, fundamentally Fukuyama and I agree about what should be the United States’ goal in foreign policy, to help make the world more democratic, even if we disagree about the means to get there. How sad then that (it appears) the Democratic party establishment has abandoned this noble goal and seems to offer only “realism” as an alternative to Bush’s crusades. We are the party of true democracy at home, as we push to make sure every eligible voter can have their vote accurately counted. We are the party of true democracy abroad, as we push Bush to work through the United Nations Security Council to peacefully restrain Iran’s nuclear program. Why then have we ceded this ideological ground? What is the Democratic party, if we are not the champions of democracy?!

A world of the city

Rip Van Winkle took his famous nap on the outskirts of Palenville in the Catskill Mountains. In Washington Irving's original story, Rip slept for only 20 years, managing to miss the entire American Revolution in the process. Let us imagine that Rip, being incredibly long-lived due to his many hours of restorative sleep, is still wandering around the Hudson Valley. How different it must look to him! The New York City megalopolis alone now holds more Americans than the Empire State and all of New England did in 1900. Rip has just been the witness to one of the most dramatic transformations of the last century, the shift from a rural to urban existence for the vast majority of Americans. In 1900, 60% of the U.S. population was rural. Today, less than 25% of the population is. It was a transformation that changed the very character of life for Americans, and drove a series of political and cultural changes that continue today.

I've heard that Rip Van Winkle has grown tired again. This time, however, in his quest to find a quiet place to rest his head, he's ventured to a calm spot along the China coast. What can Rip expect to see when he awakens, another 50 or 100 years hence?

See the rest on my post at Z Net:

http://www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=56&ItemID=9355

Klein's "No Logo" after 9/11

I just finished re-reading Naomi Klein’s "No Logo", and this time through it struck me as somehow seeming a little dated. I don’t know if this is a function of how much I’ve changed since the late 1990s, or how much the world has changed. It’s not that her argument seems now incorrect; on the contrary, I think most of her critique of the branding of the world is still valid. Corporations are still taking over public space, filling the landscape with ads. More generally, the objects of so much protest by progressives during the later 1990s – the WTO, the WEF – still exist in mostly the same anti-democratic form, only slightly reformed since then.  It’s just that her critique seems rather less relevant now, to the current political dilemma we all find ourselves in.

The horrible events of 9/11 reshaped the U.S. political landscape, as they should have, and reminded progressives that there are far worse visions of the future than the corporate-branded world that Klein predicts in No Logo.  One of those is a world controlled by religious fundamentalists, of any creed, and gripped by fear. George Bush’s invasion of Iraq also reminded progressives that there are far more important political goals to fight for in this world than simply pushing back against corporate dominance. The question of how to build some sort of peaceful alternative to a Pax Americana now seems crucial. Somehow (and this is something I’m struggling with myself) there has to be a way to reintegrate some of the campaigns of the late 1990s with the current anti-war work, in a more explicit way. After all, they all share a similar theme: democracy, the participation of the broadest possible set of people in the power to shape their global society.

EPIC 2014

The release of the Internet movie EPIC 2014 has gotten a lot of buzz recently in the blogosphere, including a discussion in On The Media on NPR last week. For the most part, notwithstanding some comments during the beginning and end, the movie marvels at the beautiful dream of the Internet: it will somehow allow the media to whither away, and allow us all to become the media. It is a beautiful aesthetic, in its own way. Still, it strikes me as just as improbable as the idea that information technology will allow all national borders to whither away. Or, more to the point, it strikes me as just as improbable as the communist ideal that the state will slow whither away- a convenient fiction based more in desire than in any real facts.

Maybe all of us in the blogosphere should ask ourselves, what good are the mainstream media (in the broad sense of the phrase) so often ridiculed in our webpages? Could we live without them? I think the answer to this is a firm no. We might recognize three main information-generating functions of media (not that these exist a priori, but they are a useful categorization). First, they repeat and retransmit basic facts (“The President today said that…”). Second, they offer up opinions and analyses of these basic facts (“Why do you think President Bush said that, Mr. Novak?”). Third, they ferret out more fundamental facts, facts that often powerful people and agencies would like to remain hidden (e.g., Woodward and Bernstein and the Deep Throat affair).

The first two functions are being made easier and easier by the Internet, and EPIC 2014 is right insofar as it pictures this process becoming more automatic and personalized. Any one interested enough to read about the President’s speech can read the transcript or see the video minutes after it occurs, making a summary article about it the next day in the newspaper nonessential for transmitting the basic facts. The over-abundance of blogs means that there are a plethora of opinions and analyses of all the basic facts of the day floating around the Internet, making newspaper columnists not necessarily unimportant (they are often quite good at what they do- that’s how they got the job!) but only one of many voices discussing the news. The New York Times decision, for example, to put only their columnists behind their pay wall shows that the management there might not get it- the columnists are arguably the most dispensable part of what the Times provides. The third function, however, has become if anything more important in the Internet era. The hard work of digging up fundamental facts requires people who can focus full-time on it, with support staff helping them and an institution dedicated to helping them. Very few bloggers have that set-up, with the exception of some of the extremely dedicated or the extremely wealthy.

The world as envisioned by EPIC 2014 visualizes news being managed by big corporations and free-wheeling bloggers. In that world, news will be “superficial”, as EPIC 2014 itself acknowledges. It’s time for bloggers to get over their distrust of the MSM, and work to find financially-stable ways for fundamental facts to make their way into cyberspace. Otherwise, it will all just be a media landscape "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
       

Visualizing global democracy, redux

Previously, I’ve attempted to construct voting districts for the whole world, with an equal number of people in each one. This all stems from a proposal in George Monbiot’s book calling for a global parliament, as a compliment to or replacement for the United Nations and its one-nation-one-vote paradigm. Monbiot points out that this proposal is repulsive to many in the developed world, simply because of the overwhelming dominance in the system of the developing countries, due to their large populations. As a landscape ecologist and a geographer, I was interested in how this would look on a map. My previous algorithm for mapping this was very crude, and came up with very square-looking voting districts. My current algorithm allows the boundaries of districts to follow gradients in population density, and is a great improvement.

Below is a map of 400 voting blocks of approximately equal population, based on the excellent global grid of population in 1995 available from the Columbia Earth Institute. First of all, let me say what this map is NOT: It is not an attempt to put forth a reasonable set of voting districts (which would be rather arrogant of me, as such things are always the outcome of a political process), nor is it an endorsement necessarily of Monbiot’s scheme for a world parliament. The idea is to get people thinking about how political power would be distributed if every person on earth had equal voting power. While national boundaries are shown on the map to help orient the reader, they were not used at all in the creation of these voting districts, and so the districts freely span national boundaries when population densities require that. Note the high density of small regions in southeastern Asia, particularly India and China- this is simply due to the high population density in these places.

Click on the thumbnails below to view a global map and close up maps of a variety of areas. Each color is a region with around 15 million people. Note that these are high-resolution JPEGs  (600 DPI) that don't always display well in a browser, but if you download them they look and print great in something like Photoshop.

Global_map_3

Na_map

Sa_map

Africa_map

Europe_map

Seasia_map

Now, technical details on how this was made: Population data were taken from the Center for International Earth Science Information Network (CIESIN), Columbia University; International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI); and World Resources Institute (WRI). 2000. Gridded Population of the World (GPW), Version 2. Palisades, NY: CIESIN, Columbia University. Available at http://sedac.ciesin.columbia.edu/plue/gpw. This gives population estimates in latitude/longitude for cells that are about 5km on a side near the equator. To perform my calculations in a projection system that is more equal-area than geographic, the grid was projected into a Robinson projection, which is reasonably equal-area between 45 and -45 latitude, and doesn’t have the high distortion of shape and distance at high latitudes that a true equal-area projection (e.g., sinusoidal projection) would. The algorithm starts with the densest cell, and begins joining it with its neighbors, starting with its most dense neighbor. This process continues until the target population is reached. This district is then considered finished, and taken out of consideration, and the algorithm then goes to the next highest cell. This algorithm works quite well except in places where there’s little or no population (like northern Canada), where there are no gradients in population density to guide the placement of boundaries. The other place it occasionally fails is when there is a large city (5-10 million people) surrounded by an area of almost no population. In this case, the final district created will tend to be over my target of 15 million, as this city will get lumped in with another big one a fair distance away.

The philosophy behind this algorithm is that people who live near one another should be in same voting district, whenever possible, regardless of which country they are in. This leads to an urban-centric definition of boundaries. Take a good look at New York City, for example- the core of the city gets one voting district, while the suburbs get another. This may upset the people from the suburbs (folks from northern New Jersey often want to claim allegiance to NYC), but it is a necessary consequence of having the many millions of people in the NYC core voting together. In any event, one could argue that the suburbs of New Jersey are more like the suburbs of the lower Hudson Valley than the core of NYC, so it may be appropriate that they vote together.

Aging and Conservatism?

It’s winter already in Boston, and today as I walked along Newbury Street the first snowflakes of the year fell onto the still-warm ground. There was something beautiful, but so sad, about it: the Hub shutting down psychologically for winter. I continued my wandering eastward, and somewhere around the Public Garden I first heard it, a faint booming of a megaphone. Once I got the Common, I recognized was it was, a crowd of a thousand or so people protesting the Iraq War. As someone who thinks the invasion of Iraq was misguided, and that the Bush Administration’s management of the occupation was ruinous, I was happy to join in. If anything, I felt kind of sheepish that I hadn’t heard about the rally in advance.

Still, as I sat there and listened to a parade of speakers, I felt depressed. For one thing, the speakers were of a decidedly anti-capitalist bent, and as I have come to believe in capitalism (with limits) as the best way to structure most economic sectors, I felt out of place. I also felt frustrated, as I knew that a few such comments could potentially tar the whole event as a “Communist” demonstration in the mainstream media.

There was another, deeper issue. At one point I felt a sense of solidarity with the gruffy activists, with their piercings and dyed hair and beards. But now I feel some frustration with these somewhat aimless lefty protests, for they often seem directed not at winning any particular political goal, but with demonstrating the purity of their convictions. And so I want to get stuff done, help achieve some progressive political victories, which makes me identify with political leaders. My time at Harvard, I’m afraid to say, has done much to encourage this identification, this belief that political change comes primarily from those in suits, those in position of at least moderate power.

This transformation toward moderateness probably happens to everyone as they get older. What I worry about is that this trend, combined with my intense business in my career, has made me what I’ve always detested: an upper-class, bleeding-heart liberal who politically does nothing but pontificates a lot.

Wikipedia and Diderot

In a moment of post-modern horror and giddy shock, I discovered yesterday that a friend of mine has a page in Wikipiedia, all about her. Indeed, Wikipedia seems to be everywhere now on the web. Almost every Google search returns some kind of Wikipedia page, and the project claims some 500,000 people have contributed material. There’s even a rather arcane set of neologisms that have cropped up in the set of people involved in the project, which I can’t pretend to understand- my favorite is “inclusionist” versus “deletionist”, which mirrors plant taxonomy’s “lumpers” and “splitters”.

It struck me this morning that this beautiful, quixotic project is a lot like the project of the French Encylopedists. The goal of their Encyclopedia was something larger than today’s encyclopedias: they wanted to contain all essential human knowledge about the arts and sciences, which was interpreted so broadly to mean just about everything. While the information was presented in a relatively objective fashion, the very concept of the Encyclopedia was a statement of Enlightment belief that knowledge and rationality would conquer most problems.

Maybe the creation of every new communication media breeds something like the French Encylopedists, for there’s a strong desire to systematize all the new content that multiples so rapidly. Wikipedia, like the French Encylopedists, both try to categorize knowledge into a logical hierarchy. And both efforts, while in theory “neutral,” imply a certain set of political beliefs, the belief that something like objective fact is possible. Ultimately, the French Encylopedists failed to categorize all knowledge, but they did breed a durable set of encyclopedias that served millions of students well. Similarly, Wikipedia is bound to fail, particularly as the subjects in some of its pages get even more arcane and contemporary, for the subject may change faster than the page can. Still, the Wikipedia has managed to make itself a largely decentralized system, and it is possible the set of pages created by these hundred of thousand of authors will persist over quite a long time. Oh, how Diderot would have been proud!

Preemptive anti-war

The past couple months have actually looked somewhat rosy for progressives, as President Bush’s poll numbers have continued to drop and the public increasingly realizes that maybe invading Iraq wasn’t such a good idea after all. It all puts a smile on my face, as someone who opposed the invasion of Iraq from the start, and who was a participant in the massive anti-war demonstrations beforehand. And yet, as the body count of American soldiers approaches 2000, with many times more Iraqi civilian casualties, the moment seems bittersweet. The scientist in me asks, could the protests before the war have really worked?

The historical record suggests that under the right conditions a protest movement can help cease a war that has already begun, contrary to some of the negative critiques of David Corn and others. Vietnam would be the first example to pop into the head of many Americans, for arguably the anti-war protests played at least a minor role in the decision to slowly withdraw, along with the daily casualties of United States personnel. The French withdrawal from Algeria might be another example, although here too it was more the deaths and chaos in Algeria that was responsible for the French desire to withdraw, than the statements and protests by French socialists and the pieds-noir. Two conditions seem to be necessary for protests in the occupier’s country to have any effect at all on the occupier’s foreign policy. First, the conflict must have become bloody and costly. Second, that cost must have led to widespread resentment of the conflict by everyday people, not just those involved in the protests. As both these conditions are true in the case of the current occupation of Iraq, I see no reason the anti-war movement cannot have some effect on how quickly and effectively the U.S. begins withdrawing from Iraq.

However, there are almost no examples of a protest movement in the aggressor country stopping a war before it begins, by sheer moral force. There are a few examples where strong negative public reaction has resulted in the delay of a particular invasion- Bill Clinton, for example, clearly considered invading Iraq in the last years of his presidency, but may have backed away from this because there was such a vociferous opposition to the idea among Americans (remember the heckling at Ohio State University?). But in general, countries with a dominant military will attack other countries with regularity. From 1775 to 1914, the British Empire fought at least 19 wars, which works out to one conflict every 7 years! From 1945 till the present, the United States fought at least 8 wars, or about one conflict every 8 years. Interestingly, the reasons for the wars were all quite idiosyncratic, so there seems to be no way to predict the justification for wars in advance. This is not to say that the justification was just an excuse by the country’s leaders, or that the logic that led to war at the time did not make sense to many of those involved. Indeed, some of the wars may be quite ethically justifiable (e.g., attacking Japan after Pearl Harbor, the invasion of Afghanistan by the United States after 9/11).

The scary corollary to this trend is: the United States will invade another country again! If we assume that our military will remain at its current strength, well above the capabilities of other countries, it seems quite likely that there will be another invasion sometime soon. The circumstances under which this invasion will occur, the political form it will take, is utterly unknowable. We might safely predict that the United States won’t attack another democracy, for the historical record suggests it’s rare for one democracy to attack another. And we can safely predict it will be a relatively weak country, given that the majority of wars are between countries with profoundly different military strength. Other than that, who knows? Maybe Iran, Syria, North Korea, Venezuela, Brazil, Cuba…

Is there some kind of movement, then, that will be effective in stopping the next war? Let’s call this line of thinking preventive anti-war organizing. I’ve become convinced that it is the only real hoping of building a more peaceful world in the future. Think of it as a sprinkler system installed in a new building; one hopes it never has to be used, but if the flames of war ever come, it will be there to dampen them. One potential possibility, of course, is to simply strengthen the marvelous global network that developed around the February 15, 2003 protests against the invasion of Iraq. If 10 million people can be marshaled for a protest with only six months of real organizing, it should be possible to get many times more people out to protest the next war with years of preparation.

It’s doubtful, however, that this alone is enough. Governments, even democratic governments, seem to have an amazing ability to ignore domestic opposition to foreign policy objectives. There is a real need for new ideas at an international level that will help to restrain the U.S. before the next war. The U.S. has one severe weakness right now, its dependence on foreign investment to finance its trade and budget deficits. Perhaps a set of boycotts of U.S. bonds by prominent investors and central banks, to be initiated at the start of a military conflict not approved by the United Nations Security council, would be an ambitious starts. Even a very small boycott would create ripples through U.S. financial markets simply by exposing to the media the vulnerability of the U.S. economy. It’s a crazy idea, perhaps, one that a few years ago I would have dismissed as absurd and unworkable. But the Iraq war has changed the way we all view global security, has made the globe’s people more aware of the risks of having a single unchallenged hegemon, and perhaps the time has truly come for preventive anti-war organizing.

true believers manufacturing consent?

An excellent column by Mark Majors on Zmag summarizes nicely the way the mainstream press consistently gives the moral benefit of the doubt to the Administration. He argues cogently that assuming the Administration’s motives are good makes certain discussions (e.g., the role of oil in the discussion to invade Iraq) out of bounds. This is really a restatement of an argument made famous by Chomsky’s political writings, that the assumption of American goodness is one of the dominant metaphors that help maintain the function of the press of “manufacturing consent.” There’s only one problem with this line of thought: neither the press nor the Administration thinks of what they do as cynically “manufacturing consent”.

A couple of summers back, I got to work as an intern in Washington, utilizing my skills as an ecologist to answer policy-relevant questions. During the course of my job, I got to talk occasionally with the head of the U.S. Forest Service, a man who had taken numerous stands that as an environmentalist I was strongly opposed to. I was surprised to find him a genteel man who clearly truly believed in the values he espoused, however perverse they seemed to me. Even though he spun propaganda all the time for his job, he believed what he said. He may have been “manufacturing consent,” but clearly not in the cynical sense that Chomsky (or at least popular descriptions of his work) implies. The same is true for all politicians, however much they are hacks: with perhaps a very few exceptions, there are no evil men cackling evil laughs in Washington, spinning conspiracies. The other side feels as strongly that they are doing good as we progressives do.

And this is one of the reasons why the press “manufactures consent.” Again, it’s important to realize that the reporters aren’t evil or mischievous. It’s just that the politicians they talk to are genuine, and the reporter’s corporate friendships encourage a sort of limited worldview. All of this is not to say there isn’t a huge need to reform the media in the U.S. There is. I just want everyone to realize that while one function of the media is to “manufacture consent,” the people doing it are genuine, for the most part. There is no real paradox here, just a psychological reality that regardless of the circumstances people will find a way to view their actions as “moral”.

Bob Dylan, 1960's obsession, and Iraq

Is it just me, or does all of Anglophone culture seem to be overdosing on Bob Dylan nostalgia? Most of this media saturation is due, of course, to Martin Scorsese’ new biography of Dylan, in what must surely be one of the better run PR campaigns of the new millennium. Oddly, most of the media discussion has followed faithfully Scorsese’ narrative of Dylan’s life: from obscurity to his peak moment of fame, culminating in an act of rebellion (Dylan’s famous interaction with the “Judas” heckler), and ignoring many of Dylan’s later (more complex) artistic works. To me, having grown up in the perpetual political and cultural shadow of the baby-boom generation, all this seems a bit hedonistic and self-congratulatory. It’s part of a general 1960’s obsession that both the right and the left share.

This obsession is particularly dangerous with Iraq. The central metaphor driving all discussion is “Iraq = Vietnam.” Liberals are happy to drive home this metaphor to increase public opposition to the war in Iraq. Conservatives reify the metaphor by so insistently denying it. Everyone in the U.S. seems to base their arguments on it. While this is understandable, given the psychic scars to Americans from the Vietnam debacle, it seems ludicrously odd to those in other countries. The domino theory of communism has given rise to the reverse domino theory of democracy, and while this argument may make sense in America because of the Vietnam experience, it seems bizarre elsewhere.

There are substantial differences between Vietnam and Iraq, in the geopolitical realities, in the mode of combat, and in the terrain. I worry that Americans are so caught up with the Vietnam metaphor that we are blind to ways in which it is untrue. And by tying into the metaphor, the anti-war movement has reignited some of the cultural issues of the 1960’s that simply don’t apply now, when the movement is more age-diverse than in the 1960’s. Truthfully, there is no way the protests against the war will achieve the chaos of those against Vietnam- nor should we aspire to that. I don’t have a solution for this mismatch, except to suggest we put forth other metaphors. Let’s talk about Britain’s experiences in Iraq during their colonial occupation- those experiences are far more relevant to what is going on today in Iraq than anything that happened a generation ago in Vietnam.

A Fabian strategy for progressives

Much of the environmental movement is still discussing the “Death of Environmentalism,” the influential article by Michael Shellenberger and Ted Nordhaus (available online here). In my city of Boston, there was even a conversational salon on the topic that I sadly missed (if anyone from the group of organizers knows of another such discussion in the Northeast, let me know!). The basic argument is that the environmental movement is barely holding its own ground, and isn’t advancing a compelling new vision. I’ve come to realize that the same argument can be made about the broader progressive agenda. While there is an important critique of the progressive movement on an ideological level (more about this later), I wanted to talk today about the progressive movement on a tactical level. On many fronts, the movement is engaged in a sense of holding actions where we seem to be slowly encircled. Worldwide, social welfare systems are under attack as unaffordable and anti-competitive. Basic civil liberties, from habeas corpus to the right to privacy, are coming into conflict with counter-terrorism policy. Most major environmental treaties, within the U.S. and internationally, are being inadequately enforced and are in danger of being dismantled.

We should realize that holding actions cannot be merely defensive, if there is to be some hope of advancing the broader progressive agenda. Rather, they must be part of a broader strategy. Given progressive forces relative weakness, at least in the U.S., our only political possibility is a Fabian strategy. A Fabian strategy is the practice of achieving constant, small defeats on the enemy who would win in any direct confrontation. The best example (militarily) in American history is George Washington’s campaign against the British. If we were to crystallize the lessons of Washington’s campaign into a political program, we might find the following rules of thumb:

1. Don’t risk all of your resources on a battle you are very likely to lose. There are no worthwhile symbolic loses.
2. Fight the largest battles that you can likely win. This involves carefully picking battles on terrain that is to your advantage.
3. Most important, have a long term strategy to exhaust and outmaneuver your opponent. This involves changing the dynamics of the overall battlefield, slowly, into a situation where you can win decisively. Redefine the debate to your terms.

An American perspective on the French Non

The French voted overwhelmingly yesterday to reject the EU constitution, and I’ve spent the morning pondering this strange event from my perspective as an American. I feel strangely saddened by the rejection, for I worry that an important opportunity, for Europe and the world, may be missed. One can conceive of the putative EU constitution as a compromise- some would say a bastard child- of two ideologies. The businessmen are obsessed with free trade, and with opening up continental Europe to the type of privatization that has already occurred to a lesser extent in places like the United Kingdom. Those in civil society, in contrast, want to create a unified and peaceful Europe with a democratic governance system. Truth be told, I can understand why some progressives were upset with the current draft of the constitution: the free-traders managed to slip in some provisions that have no business being in a constitution, but would best be decided by the EU Parliament.

Maybe, as an American, I should just shrug it off as part of the inherent and healthy unpredictability of a democracy: the people have spoken, yadda yadda. And it is possible that a better, less neo-liberal (in the economic sense) constitution will be resurrected from the ashes of this one. Still, I worry that the French rejection is symptomatic of a universal human tendency toward protecting one’s “own” people and culture first, a tendency that is becoming much more problematic in the 21st century. Many of the world’s major problems, whether environmental, economic, or social, are global in scale. Power too, both economic and political (in the broad sense of that word) has become global in scale, although there are still few hands holding the reins of power. However, the majority of people remain deeply suspicious about any attempt to make the global governance system more democratic. And for good reason, I might add, as there are plenty of cases where a country embarks on “democratic” reforms that are anything but democratic in effect.

The main response of progressives to this globalization of power has been to advocate localism, the devolution of power downward. While this is an appealing ideal, it’s usually not a useful response. French voters can reject as many drafts of the EU constitution as they want, but the economy of Europe will continue to integrate- there just won’t be any citizen oversight of the process. I want to suggest to all progressives a simple test, to make sure our ideologies aren’t getting ahead of the real political event of the world: if your political enemies are celebrating a decision you made, then that decision is probably a bad one. And to all the left in France who strongly critique the United States (for good reason, on some occasions), and who spearheaded the “Non” vote, I hope you realize that they were pulling out the champagne in the White House last night.

America and the EU Constitution

All throughout Boston there are whispered conversations… in French. In the French Cultural Center, where I take classes, ex-pats gather in little groups, trying to figure out on what street near Copley it is located. It is the French Consulate, and it may seem odd to Americans that all the excitement is over an election, something only 1 in 2 of us Americans seem to bother participating in. What may seem even odder to Americans, given our penchant for musing about the black helicopters at the UN, is that this is not a national election everyone is so excited about, but an international one. On May 29, France will vote on whether to ratify the new European Union constitution. The coverage in the press in the United States continually betrays a sense of profound confusion: why in the world would someone want to give up some sovereignty to a higher body?

Nevertheless, Americans should care, and care deeply, about what happens on May 29. Globalization, the process of increasingly rapid connection between peoples by commerce and information flows, has been much attached from both ends of the political spectrum, but will continue its inevitable march onward over the next 20 years. There are now two main models for how this can proceed. The current U.S.-backed paradigm is one where economic globalization continues apace, while politics remains firmly national. NAFTA is a prime example of the kind of treaty that results from such a worldview; it’s loaded with special provisions for big companies, but workers had little say in the design of the treaty. The current EU process also involves a lot of economic liberalization, some of it with questionable public utility (that’s why it’s in such trouble right now in France, as people rightly question some of its economic effects). In contrast to the U.S. paradigm, however, it also involves considerable political integration. In principle, at least, democracy is globalized as well as economics. If this sounds idealistic and experimental, it’s because it is. The current EU is the greatest political experiment of the last 25 years: an uneasy truce between Beethoven and capitalism.

The important thing for Americans to realize is that economic globalization is coming, one way or another. What is up for debate is its character, its soul. Democracy can either rise to globalization, or it will sink beneath it.

democracy and sustainability

Every US newspaper these days seems obliged to write some piece about “Democracy on the March,” usually somehow crediting Mr. Bush for the events in Lebanon and the Ukraine. Leaving aside this somewhat dubious attribution, we might ask what the effect of further democratization would be on the environment. Are democracies able to better control pollution and environmental destruction? We in the environmental movement have sometimes been seen as rather elitist, and indeed have occasionally enjoyed the ease with which deals can be struck with autocratic institutions. At the same time, however, we style ourselves as progressives, and instinctively want to root for democracy.

We environmentalists can thus take heart at the generally positive correlation between democratic governance and environmentally sound decision-making. At any given level of economic development countries with democratic governments generally have more environmentally friendly policies than autocratic governments. This is especially true for key pollutants, like sewage, that also have severe human health impacts. Perhaps the best example of this general rule is China, which has achieved rapid growth in GDP and education levels (which are not well correlated with democratization), but has some of the most severe environmental damage of any country. There, the top-down leadership of the Communist party allows local environmental problems to be effectively ignored.

A general principle of environmental governance should be: regulate (in the broad sense of the word) at the level at which a problem occurs. Thus, aesthetic considerations of land-use should be dealt with by local municipalities. Food safety considerations, regarding what are acceptable levels of mercury for instance, should be set at a national level. And global warming must similarly be regulated at a global level. The challenge of course is that increased ecological knowledge often highlights such international connections, but in the current world of international political anarchy little effective regulation is possible.

Social security and immigration

The president was again holding photo-op's last week to push his ideas on social security privatization and reform. While I think his scheme is dangerous and ill-conceived, I'm nevertheless grateful to Mr. Bush for starting a national discussion on the topic, albeit not always the most honest one (for example, the stated goal of many key neo-cons to entirely remove social security is rarely discussed). The president is right that the demographic transition, from a fast-growing young population to a slow-growing old population, is a real problem for pay-as-you-go systems like social security.

Nowhere is this more evident than in Europe, where many countries are experiencing negative population growth- there are fewer births than deaths. It's strange then, that with all the attention paid to Social Security by the media over the past several weeks, there's been little mention of the one factor making the Social Security problem in the US relatively minor: immigration. Let's be honest, the only reason that the Democrats can even argue that this problem is not a "crisis" is because there are hundred of thousands of immigrants a year, both legal and illegal. Without thes many young new workers, there'd be far fewer taxes to support current and future retirees. It's ironic then that some of the Republican leadership in Congress that is vocally anti-immigrant also champion Social Security reform. In fact, I'd go so far as to make a humble proposal: all those who care about saving social security should push for more open borders, as one tactic among several that can narrow future slight deficits. The emphasis should be on decreasing illegal immigration, which poses security threats in a post 9-11 worl and raises less tax revenue, by allowing any persons with employable skills or a familial support network into the U.S. Support immigrant rights, help save social security!

The crisis of democracy, revisited

I’m sitting in a posh lobby in the Atlanta Hilton, reading the tragicomic The Crisis of Democracy by Michael Crozier, Samuel Huntington, and Joji Watanuki. I picked it up mostly for the historical value, as the book that launched a thousand conspiracy theories about the Trilateral Commission. It’s an exceedingly odd book, not for what is said, but for what is not. Throughout the whole book, and particularly in the rather vapid piece by Michael Crozier on Western Europe, there is an unstated other, some degree of liberty-drunk citizens who desire anarchy. Samuel Huntington’s argument is more well-crafted, and goes a little something like this: There had been a sharp rise in political participation in the 1950s and 1960s, as well as a rise in the amount of turmoil in the government; the former factor caused the latter, since too vigorous a democracy leads to political polarization and “democratic distemper”; the way to cure this distemper is to reduce the power of the masses.

It’s an odd argument, foremost because Huntington himself grudgingly admits that more “rational” explanation for the crises of the 1960s and 1970s “could conceivably be the specific policy problems confronting the US… and its inability to deal effectively with those problems.” With the distance of almost 40 years the book also seems somewhat incongruous, as the specific problems it worries about are long gone. Still, I’ve been mulling it over in my head, and the fundamental issue- how to structure a republic so the will of the majority doesn’t trample on the rights of the minority- will always remain a bit of balancing act.

In an odd way, this debate reminds me of the explorations in ecology of how species diversity affects stability. Such studies, both theoretical and empirical, are common in ecology. Generally, more species doesn’t equal more stability in species composition, and in fact the introduction of a new species inevitably changes the species composition to a lesser or greater degree (this is hard to predict, actually). However, having more species around does tend to increase the stability of (at least some) overall properties of the system like productivity simply because, in the event of a perturbation to the system, there are more entities to fill any gaps. In a similar way, I think Huntington is frustrated because the introduction of new political actors is changing the distribution of power among actors. This does not, however, necessarily imply that things like the constitutional process in the US are at risk. In fact, the broader distribution of power among more actors may increase the checks and balances in the system; this is, after all, what the Locke tradition is all about.

horizontal versus vertical linkages

Zephyr Teachout's excellent piece on PDF, about what the Internet can accomplish with respect to progressive organizing, has certainly gotten a lot of attention recently. She's been barraged by commentary from all sides, and so I resisted the urge to post directly about it, especially as I am a scientist, not a political activist. Zephyr argues, quite persuasively, that the decline of local, neighborhood organizations- rotary clubs, bowling leagues, you name it- has depaupered American life and American democracy. The decline has also meant that national organizations like the ACLU, NOW, and even the DNC, have disconnected from the "grassroots", the sentiments and actions of everyday citizens. Zephyr stresses the role that the Internet could play in reconnecting the "grassroots" to the national organization. Her piece made me want to comment on two issues, that she addressed tangentially in her piece but which I'm in the mood to elaborate on.

First, Zephyr's article is very much written for those at the national headquarter's of organizations, helping them see what structural steps can be taken to reinvigorate and empower the grassroots. While that's an extremely important set of changes that need to take place, I think such a top-down focus misses some of the core issue. In many national organizations, particularly in the environmental sector where I work, there's considerable resistance to devolving power downward, because it entails a lack of full control of the message of the organization. Such devolution has only occured when there are active chapters demanding it- that is, the devolution was initiated at the grassroots, not at the national headquarters. Ideally, there can be a push from grassroots activists for devolution while national headquarters actively facilitates that transition.

Second, from my perspective as an environmentalist, Zephyr's piece echoes a general push toward "localization" in the progressive community. I've always been suspicious of such proposals unless they can also act on the global stage. There's a need not just for more involvement at a local level in national struggles, but more "horizontel" activity between organizations, especially across national boundaries. Here, too, the Internet has an important role, already facilitating such collaborations as the World Social Forums and the series of global protests against the Iraq war. I would humbly add to Zephyr's argument that if organizations like the ACLU and the DNC want to be more effective, there need to be strengthened links between them and like-minded organizations across borders. Such a linking has already begun to some extent, but in my opinion needs to be greatly strengthed to make these organizations more meaningful in a globalized world.

The modern Don Quixote

I picked up a copy of Don Quixote recently in, of all places, a chain book store in the airport. I was really surprised to find any classic work in a place dedicated to helping travelers just pass the time, so I asked the clerk about it. Apparently it?s one of their bestsellers.

Somehow I think that Don Quixote is selling well to the airplane hordes not just because it's a hell of an entertaining read, which it is, but that the work somehow strikes a chord in post-modern folk?s heart. I could take this in a trivial direction, and make jokes about President Bush tilting at windmills, but truthfully I mean something a little more deep than that. Moreover, I find such analogies offensive, mere liberal whistling in the graveyard, given the uplifting success of the Iraq election. I can't really enjoy lefty jokes when the core of the progressive lexicon is being appropriate, and there are no major Democrats standing up to reclaim concepts like liberty.

No, I really think that Cervantes speaks to our current experience for another, more profound reason. His era, before the Enlightenment but after the Renaissance, and smack in the middle of the Inquisition in Spain, is a little like ours. The dominant political order, the dominant worldview, seems corrupt and ineffective. Traditional concepts of morality seem at best not quite adequate to the new world that?s emerging. And yet the old order is in no way weaker, if anything it seems at the pinnacle of its power. In this context, Cervantes seems to me immeasurably brave. He not only sense this fundamental disconnect and satirizes it, he heartily laughs at the absurdity of it all. This from a man who spent several years of his life held captive for ransom. May I find the strength to have the same courage to laugh.