Monday, November 10, 2014

On Losing & the Elections


I know how Tim feels. But he doesn't get much practice

I hate losing. I hate losing basketball games. I hate losing trials and appeals. I hate losing elections. Basketball games are just that—games. I can get over it (eventually). Trials and appeals involve much more: disappointed clients, perhaps a financial setback, and a toll on the psyche by way of a loss of self-confidence and the attendant rise of self-doubt. And losses in some elections are also vexing. Elections can have a stake well beyond my ego or my personal interest. Elections shape our collective future, not definitively, but significantly. The outcomes of elections often arise from the most appalling of causes. Our collective future rests in the hands of a cognitive equivalent of a drunk driver. 

Will the Republic survive the election of No-Nothing* majority in both houses of Congress? Probably. We survived Bush. But all of this does dismay me. We have significant issues in front of us, such as global climate change with the challenges that it entails and the continued legalized corruption of our political system. Iowans (not this one!) elected a Koch Brothers' candidate purchased with millions in contributions and whose stance on global climate change is standard issue head-in-the-sand. 

Perhaps I'm all fired-up about nothing. That's the common attitude: "It's all a bunch of just politics anyway. Who cares? They're all full of shit." I wish that I could believe that. “Damn you Learning for leading me to believe these things important!” Philosophy and popular opinion have been at war in the West since the demos put Socrates to death in Athens centuries ago. No wonder Socrates' student Plato had such a jaundiced view of democracy. 

I've been on the losing side of elections since I campaigned for Richard Nixon in 1960 (yes, I campaigned—in my second-grade way—for Nixon). Later it was Norman Erbe for governor, Bill Scranton for the Republican presidential nomination, Goldwater for president, and so on. On and on. Maybe I should campaign for the candidate I want to lose. I even debated for Goldwater in 1964 in front of my 6th grade class only to lose decisively in the vote of my classmates—in a county that was one of only six that voted in favor of Goldwater in Iowa that year. Wow. No wonder I have an interest in persuasion: I don't have a good track record, do I? Chalk up another loss. 

So what do I do now? I'll listen to the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh and to Stravinsky's Firebird, waiting for the Finale that prompts me to think of the firebird as a phoenix that rises from the ashes. It works after basketball games (well, back in the day), after losing cases, and after losing elections. It reminds me that although I'm bummed and discouraged, so much more so the candidates who gave it their all, the men and women in the arena who fought the good fight in front of a mostly unknowing and unappreciative audience. We pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and climb back into the saddle, like a cowboy tossed into the dust by an buckin' bronc'. It hurts, but you gotta do what gotta do.
We'll be back. 

*I can't bear to refer to them as Republicans. The heirs of Lincoln, TR, Ike—hell, even Nixon—not to mention other outstanding leaders? No, they have gone too far to deserve the designation. They are RINOs to me, body-snatchers who have taken a name but who refuse the mantle of the heritage.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Collapse of Western Civilization: A View from the Future by Naomi Oreskes & Eric M. Conway



Published 2014, "written" in 2393

This book by two historians of science examines our world through the lens of a dystopian fiction. For anyone looking for plot and character, go elsewhere. (I think that they’d recommend the work of Kim Stanley Robinson, whom they acknowledge in the book.) This is a “history” book written by historians looking back from the year 2393 while working in the "Second (Neocommunist) People’s Republic of China". But if you want to learn about what we currently know, what we’re currently doing (or not doing), and how our choices extrapolate into the future, then this is a worthwhile book. Anyone who’s read this blog or followed my Tweets knows that climate change and our collective indifference to it and the future that it holds for us is a major concern of mine. I used to say that this concern would be the problem that my daughters and their generation would have to face. Of course, events have proven this expectation false—it’s here now, staring us in the face, as these two authors make abundantly clear. 

Because the authors are both historians of science, they enjoy street cred with both the science community and the larger community, or at least me. (I won’t give my “all knowledge is a matter of history” talk here, but if you need a quick refresher, see below*.) In a previous book, Merchants of Doubt: Doubt: How a Handful of Scientists Obscured the Truth on Issues from Tobacco to ClimateChange (New York: Bloomsbury, 2010), these two authors detailed the use of scientists to peddle doubts for the purpose on delaying action on issues of public health from tobacco use to global climate change. They understand not only the science involved in these issues, but also the social context in which that science is practiced. Indeed, the whole point of this exercise is the examine how we in the early 21st century have convinced ourselves that we can ignore these issues and blithely continue down our current path toward disaster. They cite a great deal of relevant science and they extrapolate from our current knowledge about what may happened to this Earth of ours given our current choices. But their observations about canons of knowledge and ideologies are the more unique and insightful aspects of their project. 

Following are some of the more interesting points taken from the book with my commentary following. 

The physical scientists studying these steadily increasing disasters did not help quell this denial, and instead became entangled in arcane arguments about the “attribution” of singular events [floods, fires, storms, droughts & other weather-related events]. Oreskes, Naomi; Conway, Erik M. (2014-06-24). The Collapse of Western Civilization: A View from the Future (p. 7). Columbia University Press. Kindle Edition.

Although they don’t come out and say it (Oreskes is a Harvard professor), the scientific community often lives in an ivory tower. Science is a social enterprise, a human enterprise par excellence, and to ignore this all too human aspect of science is a terrible mistake. To whom much is given (to wit, money for research grants), much is expected. While arguments over standards and protocols are important, they don’t override the greater concerns of society as a whole. 

[M]ost countries still used the archaic concept of a gross domestic product, a measure of consumption, rather than the Bhutanian concept of gross domestic happiness to evaluate well-being in a state. p. 8

It’s good to realize that the word about the utter inadequacy of GNP as a measure of well-being is growing in popularity. But we should move beyond our snapshot in time (as the authors later suggest) and beyond the immediate human world in measuring performance and well-being. 

Though leaders of the scientific community protested, scientists yielded to the demands, thus helping set the stage for further pressure on scientists from both governments and the industrial enterprises that governments subsidized and protected. Then legislation was passed (particularly in the United States) that placed limits on what scientists could study and how they could study it, beginning with the notorious House Bill 819, better known as the “Sea Level Rise Denial Bill,” passed in 2012 by the government of what was then the U.S. state of North Carolina . . . . pp. 11-12

This is a really frightening realization, one that makes Tennessee’s outlawing of the teaching of evolution (as displayed in the Snopes trial) seem trivial. Really, in 21st century America this could happen? This is Orwellian—or more bluntly, Stalinist. (Orwell of course decried such lies; Stalin and his cohort used the airbrush on history and reality with abandon.) 

It is difficult to understand why humans did not respond appropriately in the early Penumbral Period, when preventive measures were still possible. Many have sought an answer in the general phenomenon of human adaptive optimism, which later proved crucial for survivors. p. 13

We humans believe that we can always come out in the last reel. Maybe, but we test the limits. One thing that the authors don’t do in this “history” is explore fully all of the likely social, political, and economic disasters that will likely befall humanity if our environment comes crashing down around us. The Four Horsemen of war, famine, pestilence, and death will ride freely throughout the world. To think that we can “innovate” our way out of such a situation amounts to fantasy, mere wishful thinking. 

Even more elusive to scholars is why scientists, whose job it was to understand the threat and warn their societies—and who thought that they did understand the threat and that they were warning their societies—failed to appreciate the full magnitude of climate change. To shed light on this question, some scholars have pointed to the epistemic structure of Western science, particularly in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, which was organized both intellectually and institutionally around “disciplines” in which specialists developed a high level of expertise in a small area of inquiry…. While reductionism proved powerful in many domains, particularly quantum physics and medical diagnostics, it impeded investigations of complex systems. Reductionism also made it difficult for scientists to articulate the threat posed by climatic change, since many experts did not actually know very much about aspects of the problem beyond their expertise. pp. 13-14

Again, an important criticism of what is typical of academia—learning more and more about less and less. We can’t afford this now. Specialization and narrow focus can be a tool in some situations, but like many useful tools, it can only prove useful on limited occasions. 

Other scientists promoted the ideas of systems science, complexity science, and, most pertinent to our purposes here, earth systems science, but these so-called holistic approaches still focused almost entirely on natural systems, omitting from consideration the social components. Yet in many cases, the social components were the dominant system drivers. It was often said, for example, that climate change was caused by increased atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases. Scientists understood that those greenhouse gases were accumulating because of the activities of human beings—deforestation and fossil fuel combustion—yet they rarely said that the cause was people, and their patterns of conspicuous consumption. pp. 15-16

This is a good point about systems and complexity theories. They are better (i.e., more useful in this context) than reductionist theories, but some do divorce humanity from Nature. We are at once a part of Nature and apart from Nature, but now we need to appreciate just how much a part of Nature we are. 

Other scholars have looked to the roots of Western natural science in religious institutions. Just as religious orders of prior centuries had demonstrated moral rigor through extreme practices of asceticism in dress, lodging, behavior, and food—in essence, practices of physical self-denial—so, too, did physical scientists of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries attempt to demonstrate their intellectual rigor through practices of intellectual self-denial.9 These practices led scientists to demand an excessively stringent standard for accepting claims of any kind, even those involving imminent threats. In an almost childlike attempt to demarcate their practices from those of older explanatory traditions, scientists felt it necessary to prove to themselves and the world how strict they were in their intellectual standards. Thus, they placed the burden of proof on novel claims—even empirical claims about phenomena that their theories predicted. This included claims about changes in the climate. p. 16

This is a fascinating insight: scientists as the new ascetics. This helps me understand someone like the late Seth Roberts, who was (in essence) a human climate-change denier. I argued (in comments on his blog) that the judgment was a practical one requiring action, not one that should be governed by abstract principles of skepticism. My thinking came from my knowledge and experience with the common law tradition of making judgments about practical matters of liability. He never made clear (to me anyway) the nature of his skepticism in the face of so much contrary proof. 

Much of the argument surrounded the concept of statistical significance. Given what we now know about the dominance of nonlinear systems and the distribution of stochastic processes, the then-dominant notion of a 95 percent confidence limit is hard to fathom. Yet overwhelming evidence suggests that twentieth-century scientists believed that a claim could be accepted only if, by the standards of Fisherian statistics, the possibility that an observed event could have happened by chance was less than 1 in 20.. . . . We have come to understand the 95 percent confidence limit as a social convention rooted in scientists’ desire to demonstrate their disciplinary severity. p. 17

I’m so glad to read this. I’m untrained in statistics (one of my many shortcomings), but it always seemed to me that the whole enterprise could be quite arbitrary. This is what they say: you have to do better than 1/20 to have “statistical significance”. That’s probably an extremely useful heuristic, but as a “law”, it’s junk. And as a guide for action? Maybe, but maybe not. The appropriateness of any standard depends upon on what’s at stake, other sources of confirmation or disproof, and the time scale in which we must judge. In other words, a common law type of judgment: the likelihood of harm, the magnitude of possible harm, and the cost of alternatives serve as benchmarks for decision-making.

Western scientists built an intellectual culture based on the premise that it was worse to fool oneself into believing in something that did not exist than not to believe in something that did. p. 17

Again, which is the worst mistake depends on the practical outcome of the actions taken as a result of the belief or unbelief. The likely practical consequence of a mistake, and not the cause of the possible mistake, should guide action. 

To the historian studying this tragic period of human history, the most astounding fact is that the victims knew what was happening and why. Indeed, they chronicled it in detail precisely because they knew that fossil fuel combustion was to blame. Historical analysis also shows that Western civilization had the technological know-how and capability to effect an orderly transition to renewable energy, yet the available technologies were not implemented in time. p. 35

Exactly: how can we be so dumb? (And by dumb, I mean in action, not as simply as a means of name-calling.) This is a social-political problem, a problem of persuasion and decision-making of the highest importance. 

The thesis of this analysis is that Western civilization became trapped in the grip of two inhibiting ideologies: positivism and market fundamentalism. p. 35
Yes. 

[T]he overall philosophy is more accurately known as Baconianism. This philosophy held that through experience, observation, and experiment, one could gather reliable knowledge about the natural world, and that this knowledge would empower its holder. Experience justified the first part of the philosophy (we have recounted how twentieth-century scientists anticipated the consequences of climate change), but the second part—that this knowledge would translate into power—proved less accurate. p. 36

This suggests and extreme naiveté by the scientific community and those who support them. 

A key attribute of the period was that power did not reside in the hands of those who understood the climate system, but rather in political, economic, and social institutions that had a strong interest in maintaining the use of fossil fuels. Historians have labeled this system the carbon-combustion complex: a network of powerful industries comprising fossil fuel producers, industries that served energy companies (such as drilling and oil field service companies and large construction firms), manufacturers whose products relied on inexpensive energy (especially automobiles and aviation, but also aluminum and other forms of smelting and mineral processing), financial institutions that serviced their capital demands, and advertising, public relations, and marketing firms who promoted their products. pp. 36-37

While I’m skeptical of conspiracy theories in general, I do believe that this mind-set (intentional or otherwise—as in false consciousness, akrasia, etc.) does trump because it represents tangible interests as well as a repeated and widely promoted ideology. 

[A] large part of Western society was rejecting that knowledge in favor of an empirically inadequate yet powerful ideological system. Even at the time, some recognized this system as a quasi-religious faith, hence the label market fundamentalism. Market fundamentalism—and its various strands and interpretations known as free market fundamentalism, neoliberalism, laissez-faire economics, and laissez-faire capitalism—was a two-pronged ideological system. pp. 37-38). 

The first prong held that societal needs were served most efficiently in a free market economic system. Guided by the “invisible hand” of the marketplace, individuals would freely respond to each other’s needs, establishing a net balance between solutions (“supply”) and needs (“demand”). The second prong of the philosophy maintained that free markets were not merely a good or even the best manner of satisfying material wants: they were the only manner of doing so that did not threaten personal freedom. p. 38

Another example of good ideas gone bad. A market economy is better than other forms, but it isnt’ perfect, and as we humans tend to do, we overreached and made the market absolute. 

The ultimate paradox was that neoliberalism, meant to ensure individual freedom above all, led eventually to a situation that necessitated large-scale government intervention. p. 48

This forecast is probably correct. How ironic! 

Period of the Penumbra  The shadow of anti-intellectualism that fell over the once-Enlightened techno-scientific nations of the Western world during the second half of the twentieth century, preventing them from acting on the scientific knowledge available at the time and condemning their successors to the inundation and desertification of the late twenty-first and twenty-second centuries. pp. 59-60

This leads me back to an insight that I’ve had since I started thinking about this world: human power—via technology—has outrun human wisdom. We have loosed a genie that we can’t control. We humans are the Sorcerer’s Apprentice with none but Nature that can restore order—and it will be messy. 

[Naomi Oreskes being interviewed] The nation in which our historian is writing is the Second PRC, because we imagine that after a period of liberalization and democratization, autocratic forces become resurgent in China, justified by the imperative of dealing with the climate crisis. EC [author Erik Conway]: Chinese civilization has been around a lot longer than Western civilization has and it’s survived a great many traumas. While I’m not sure the current government of China is likely to hold up well—the internal tensions are pretty glaring—it’s hard to imagine a future in which there’s no longer a place called China. And as Naomi explains, authoritarian states may well find it easier to make the changes necessary to survive rapid climate change. With a few exceptions, the so-called liberal democracies are failing to address climate change. p. 70

The authors suggest that China will “go renewable” sooner than the West and will adapt more effectively than the Western nations. Maybe. Currently, China is hell-bent on further economic development, and we can see the effect every day in the air quality. The central government does currently have the power to make drastic changes, but how drastic and under what conditions would be subject to a major stress test. The assumption of anything less than a Hobbesian state of nature (or the rise of a Leviathan led by someone as bloodthirsty as a Stalin or a Hitler) seems overly optimistic to me if things deteriorate with the speed and to the extent that the authors suggest that it might. 

This was a one-sitting read. It goes along with William (Patrick) Ophuls and Thomas Homer-Dixon on my (electronic) shelf about the challenge of global climate change. I hope that we can prove their “history” false. 

P.S. The NYT article interview tipped me off to Oreskes and her work, and her TED talk on the practice of science.  


* In sum, the history of anything amounts to that thing itself. History is not a social science but an unavoidable form of thought. That "we live forward but we can only think backward" is true not only of the present (which is always a fleeting illusion) but of our entire view of the future: for even when we think of the future we do this by remembering. But history cannot tell us anything about the future with certainly. Intelligent research, together with a stab of psychological understanding, may enable us to reconstruct something from the past; still, it cannot help us predict the future.



Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Trying Not to Try: The Art & Science of Spontaneity by Edward Slingerland


Published in 2014

In this book, Edward Slingerland combines his deep learning about the classics of Chinese culture with an appreciation of important work in contemporary psychology. Slingerland shows that the traditional Chinese concepts of wu-wei (not-doing) and de (virtue) found in the works of Confucius, Laozi, and others in the Warring States period accord with a growing appreciation of embodied psychology in contemporary thinking. He makes a convincing argument that the Chinese tradition identified issues that we’re still trying to sort out today. 




Confucius

Laozi
Confucius, Laozi, Mencius, Xunxi, and Zhuangzi, in other words, both the Daoist and the Confucian traditions, attempted to identify and cultivate spontaneity within individuals. We can identify spontaneity in a mundane task such as butchering an ox, as related in the famous story of Cook Deng told by Zhuangzi, but its greatest value arises in social interactions. The virtuous person (a person with de) is at ease with others, acting spontaneously, thereby putting those others at ease. Confucius argued that appropriate spontaneity arises through assiduous cultivation, while Laozi and Zhuangzi wrote in favor a more spontaneous spontaneity. (Mencius argued to split the difference.) 

In recent Western psychology, such as in the work of Daniel Kahneman, psychologists have developed the concepts of System 1 and System 2 "thinking". System 1 is quick, spontaneous, and habitual, while System 2 is slower, more intense, and more energy demanding. We identify System 1 with the body and instinct, while System 2 is rational, calculating, and centered in the head. Slingerland argues that achieving true wu-wei that results in a realization of de comes from the melding of these two systems into a dynamic harmony. The Dao any anyone? 


Slingerland fills the book with examples of the action-less doing of wu-wei (the “zone” or “flow” in sports, for instance) as well as examples from contemporary psychology and neuroscience. To my mind, perhaps the most common example for most is riding a bike: after learning through early, self-conscious effort, we finally let go and just do it. It comes “naturally”. Slingerland argues persuasively that our modern, Western individualism and attendant emphasis on conscious effort isn’t always the best way to accomplish an end. Sometimes we have to let go to reach obtain our goal. (Yes, there is a discussion of Luke Skywalker and his antecedents in Zhuangzi). 

This is a thoughtful and delightful book, one that enlightened me a great deal about some of the classics of Chinese culture while using those ideas to elucidate the findings of an important area of contemporary psychological research. The quandary of spontaneity versus focused, planned action is indeed a familiar one, whether one is attempting to fall asleep (never can be forced), continue a shooting hot streak in basketball (often lost as soon as realized), or in writing a blog. Sometimes writing a blog seems effortless, sometimes forced, but it always needs both flowing inspiration and careful, rational editing. Slingerland’s book gives us ideas about how we might realize our de, our virtue, in new and productive ways—or simply perhaps via The Way.

Monday, October 20, 2014

World Order by Henry Kissinger


Plain cover, deep interior



Old yes, but a master-student
Henry Kissinger has been a public official (National Security Adviser and Secretary of State), a private consultant, and a college professor. At age 91, Kissinger has donned his professorial hat to take the student on a grand tour of international relations. But this IR course doesn’t start with the world of today. Professor Kissinger recognizes the deep roots of history, and he begins with the Treaty of Westphalia (1648). There in time and space begins the tour, moving through the establishment of the European balance of power international system, the French Revolution, the Congress of Vienna (about which he wrote a definitive work), and through to today. After Europe, he takes us on historical and contemporary tours of China, Russia, the Middle East (especially Iran), India, and the rest of Asia. Only then does he turn his attention to the U.S., which he dubs the “reluctant superpower”. He comments extensively on the growth of balance of power political perspectives first promoted on the world stage by Theodore Roosevelt, and the international idealism (and institutionalism) of Woodrow Wilson. The two traditions sit uneasily (and sometimes alternatively) as guiding principles of U.S. foreign relations. Kissinger notes the tension and ambiguity that the two traditions represent. He notes that Richard Nixon, who would seem the epitome of an international realist in power, chose to hang a portrait of Woodrow Wilson in his White House. Nixon heard the song of idealism even if he did not answer it. 

For all of the revealing history and perspective, I found Kissinger’s remarks about technological changes addressed to the present and immediate future some of the most interesting insights of the book, contained in his chapter on “Technology, Equilibrium, and Human Consciousness”. (Pretty hip for someone publishing at age 91!) Whatever one’s judgments about Kissinger’s actions as an office holder, one cannot question his credentials as an unparalleled master teacher of the system. 

My have only two brief criticisms. First, he slights political economy. We do live in an increasingly interdependent world, although some want to ignore this. To what extent this has affected and will affect international actors doesn’t receive much (if any) scrutiny. Second, he doesn’t peer into the future and the possible repercussions of climate change or perhaps a new global pandemic (I don’t think that Ebola is a likely candidate, but something new could be). How resilient is this system? He talks about the challenges in terms of the current alignments and threats, but I think that this ground is shifting. Nuclear weapons are a huge concern, but an unlikely threat if the current system remains intact. But if the current system breaks down, then  . . . . 

I’m keeping this review short because there are already some fine reviews out there: former Secretary of State (and possible future president) Hillary Clinton, Ian Bremmer (Eurasia Group president and author), and Amitai Etzioni (GW prof & public intellectual) to list three that I found useful.