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Dan, best of luck in the marathon. Though if, as you say, distance running is as much a mental endeavor as a physical one, I should think you're more than qualified.
This post follows on the heels of Bob's comments. I'm not sure I'd like to abandon so quickly the notion of a dividing line between reason and emotion (the 'false dichotomy'). Surely they sometimes mix–righteous anger at injustice is a good case–but I don't think that means they're inseparable. Not for human beings. Further, I'm not sure we shouldn't try to separate them when policy decisions are to be made. This presumes, of course, that we have some moral foundation on which to base our reason. In the case of gay marriage, for instance, I might ground my moral sentiments on the issue on the twin pillars of the Constitution and the principle of limited governance. From there, I'm free to assess objectively how changes to our current stance on gay marriage might affect us in light of the Constitution and our beloved foundational principle (attached to this process, the part most people don't like to accept, is an obligation to adapt our opinions to changing evidence. It's the hardest part.) This, I should think, is a better methodology than gut reaction.
But it occurs to me that what I've described might be just the same as the process you, Dan, just talked about: employing reason to substantiate deeply-felt moral positions. Maybe those precambrian beliefs are all we've got after all. I hope not.
–Morgan Hubbard
I'm taking a break from blogging this weekend to run in the Kentucky Derby Festival mini-Marathon (mini = 13.1 mi.). Running– especially distance running– is primarily a mental sport. Here's an interesting study on the psychology of running. Also, I just read that running may also enhance creativity. So maybe you can expect better blogging to come. Don't get your hopes up, though; it's only a mini-Marathon.
–Daniel Corbett
Morgan, you raise an interesting question with your last post, and that is this: how much are we willing to let non-quantitative factors influence our political and moral judgements? To me, Greenpeace's position on Chernobyl makes a lot of sense. They have an interest in painting nuclear power to be much more threatening than it actually is. So merely describing the death toll in dry, numerical terms isn't enough. They need to rely on emotive argument.
I'd like to draw a parallel with the current debate over gay marriage. Opponents of gay marriage have an interest in framing gay couples as "deviant" and otherwise undeserving of an erstwhile heterosexual privilege. So you obviously will not hear them spouting any statistics such as the increase in gay couples adopting, the number of gay and lesbian people who attend religious services, and so on. They, too, need to rely on emotive argument to make their case.
OK, so emotion and politics? What's so bad about mixing the two? Many postmodern political theorists argue that the two are inseperable and that reason and objectivity are "myths." I'm not convinced, however. And here's why:
1. Emotional politics can easily be abused. Any organization– from a humble non-profit to a large corporation– can exploit the worst tragedy to meet its own institutional needs. These arguments typically take familiar forms such as "for your own good…" and "what about the children?!?"
2. Emotional politics silences meaningful discourse. At some level, emotive arguments become articles of faith and as such very difficult to approach with a contrary argument. We can argue about the scientific effects of Chernobyl, for example, but we can't argue definitively one way "how bad it was." (Unless, of course, we are speaking in terms of death counts.)
3. Emotional politics is intellectually insulting. It doesn't take much to be offended, upset, excited, or dismayed. But it does require much more work to think through every side of an issue and lay out a reasoned case for what you feel to be true.
In the 1920s, Herbert Feigl and other European philosophers and scientists formed the "Vienna Circle" whose fundamental goal was to make philosophy more scientific. In the early Twentieth Century, this was a controversial position to hold, as many philosphers wanted to cling to universal truths within the realm of metaphysics. Now, of couse, it's much different. The position of the Vienna Circle– that a good argument is one that its verifiable– is seen to be out of vogue in our postmodern world. But I rather like it. And I think we can solve a lot of problems in our political and ethical debates if we simply "look to the facts."
–Daniel Corbett
Spiked Onine has a new piece up on the hell Greenpeace and a host of other radiophobic agencies are playing with the fallout–literal and cultural–from Chernobyl. The scariest bit comes from a Greenpeace publication called "The Chernobyl Catastrophe: Consequences for Human Health." In part it reads:
'Any description which attempts to present the consequences [of Chernobyl] as a single, "easy to understand" estimation of excess cancer deaths…will inevitably provide a gross oversimplification of the breadth of human suffering experienced'.
Sputter-Cough-Cough. What? How else are we to describe a human disaster if not in terms of casualties (that includes, of course, disabilities on top of simple fatalities.) This, to me, seems terribly disingenuous. Expanding the scope of disasters in official reporting to include non-casualty effects will only serve to make disasters much, much scarier than they need to be. "Human suffering," writ thus, isn't quantifiable, which is exactly what Greenpeace intends us to realize. Applying the term to a disaster of any kind, then, is the ultimate trump card–it makes rational discussion impossible. And at a time when petro prices are rising steadily, rational discussion of future energy sources is exactly what we need.
–Morgan Hubbard
On speech codes, Morgan, I cannot agree more. Your work on Maryland's speech code exposes it for what it is: a ham-fisted, liability-obsessed move by administrators who would rather curtail speech than deal with its consequences (or lack thereof).
But when it comes to FIRE as an organization, I cannot endorse them wholeheartedly. I'm sure you remember the controversy last year over the proposal of several state-level "Academic Bills of Rights." One of these bills was proposed in the Ohio Senate, and I wrote a paper last spring on how the bill would affect Ohio University.
Essentially, these bills aimed to "increase diversity of thought" in universities. (Read: provide affirmative action programs for conservative professors.) David Horowitz, who fought tirelessly against speech codes with FIRE, was at the vanguard of this new students-rights movement. His organization, Students for Academic Freedom pledges to "end the political abuse of the university and to restore integrity to the academic mission." Excuse me, Mr. Horowitz. Since when was it the government's task to "restore integrity" to colleges and universities? How, exactly, is this a conservative idea? In short, aren't we really taking one speech code and replacing it with another?
– Daniel Corbett
I wrote a paper last semester on the University of Maryland's speech code travails. For those interested in the topic, www.thefire.org, an anti-speech code alliance, is a fantastic resource. The story of UMD's own code is startling: from 1984 to 2004, the university operated under a remarkably heavy-handed code (UMD's code, like most others, was written into policy in the late 1980's, when a *perceived* wave of hate speech alarmed higher educators nationwide.) The code mirrored other such codes in the University System of Maryland, the group of twelve or so state schools in Maryland. It was quitely pulled apart, however, after a debacle in 2004 thrust it into the public sphere. A sociology professor on campus was accused by a graduate student of ethnic and sexual harassment. An investigation commenced (the student withdrew her complaint, I believe, after it became public that she was doing poorly in the professor's class), after which the code was reviewed. I'm not sure how the committee reacted to the code, but I was shocked. Among other things, members of the university community could be sanctioned for: “continuous idle chatter of a sexual nature,” “sexual teasing,” “sounds such as whistling, wolf-calls or kissing sounds,” “sexually provocative compliments about a person’s clothes or the way their clothes fit,” “‘staged whispers’ or mimicking of a sexual nature about the way a person walks, talks, sits, etc.,” and “pseudo-medical advice such as ‘you might be feeling bad because you didn’t get enough’ or ‘A little Tender Loving Care (TLC) will cure your ailments.’” Some nonverbal behaviors prohibited by the manual include “sexual looks such as leering and ogling with suggestive overtones,” “licking lips or teeth,” “holding or eating food provocatively,” and “persistent and unwelcome flirting.” Surprisingly, the code stipulated that “the behaviors listed…do not necessarily have to be specifically directed at an individual to constitute sexual harassment.” Also stipulated was that “gender-biased communications about women or men” is a form of “sex discrimination” that falls under the category of “sexual harassment,” and is therefore punishable.
Obviously, UMD was right to revise its code. What's troubling is that universities in Maryland's state system and, presumably, elsewhere in the country have adopted crash-course policies; that is, they hang onto their unconstitutional speech codes until some campus scandal dooms the code. Now, I don't want to make the UMD professor a martyr. But, if we can divorce him from the truth or falsity of the grad student's claims, that's what he seems like. We shouldn't demand things like that of others, as well.
– Morgan Hubbard
Mark Zuckerberg of facebook fame actually has business cards that read “I’m CEO, bitch!“Melanie Colburn waxes philosophical on Generation Y growing up. “Just imagine, the beat generation brought jeans into the office, tomorrow hipsters will probably glide through the boardroom in distressed cords-cum slacks.”
– Daniel Corbett
David Bernstein at the Volokh Conspiracy has been assiduously tracking a developing censorship debacle at Penn State. The case involves a student art exhibit that has been deemed too controversial to be displayed in the School of Visual Arts. The student, Joshua Stulman received an email from the university charging that his exhibit on the culture of Palestinian terrorism "did not promote cultural diversity" or "opportunities for democratic dialogue." The university's stance amounts to outright denial of student expression on the basis of its content. This sort of thing smacks of a university "speech code." (The majority of these policies were deflated in federal courts during the 1990's.)
But Penn State has changed its tune, maintaining instead that Stulman's exhibit was rejected because of its "commercial" nature. The school refuses to show exhibits with outside sponsorship. In this case, the "commercial" argument comes into play because Hillel has offered a paltry sum ($75-$100) for refreshments following the opening.
Stulman has the evidence on his side: an email containing the obvious language of censorship. It seems, then, that the university's argument falls flat. But even so, I think there's a problem with the university's stance. I can understand the "commercial" exhibit proviso. No one wants college art to become political football. But I think the policy must know some limits. If Hillel (or any nonpartisan, student, or otherwise "small" organization) wants to help out by buying a few snacks, I don't think there's a problem. The university needs a more substantive approach to hashing out these decisions. Above all, what it needs, however, is to stop couching censorship in the language of "diversity" or institutional impartiality. Stulman's exhibit may not echo the sentiments of the university, or for that matter, many of the people who view it. But this is a good thing The future of academia depends on more victories for intellectually honest people like Stulman and fewer for the academic thought police.
– Daniel Corbett
Brendan O'Neill makes an excellent case for recasting the debate over human "trafficking." "[T]rendy NGOs and the liberal broadsheets-turned-tabloids," he argues are distorting the issue and creating a moral panic on which national governments can cash in. To be sure, human trafficking does occur, and strong measures should be taken to stop it. O'Neill drills in this point. His criticism is not that trafficking is a fiction; it is that "trafficking" is being too broadly defined. According to UNICEF's definition, both cross-border adoption and international union organizing constitute forms of "trafficking." The African family who sends its son or daughter to England to seek a better life is not a criminal cartel and deserves praise, not chastisement.
O'Neill also criticizes media coverage of immigration. He castigates journalists for painting a dark, other-worldly portrait of immigrants. (Note: in the British press this is not limited to sensationalized stories of immigrants as witch doctors and pimps, frenzied hangers-on who hunt swans in public parks for sustenance.) There is nothing conservative or trumped up about O'Neill's charge here. Even Edward Said would be in his corner, commending him for exposing a fanatical Orientalist depiction of the downtrodden.
So what is this getting at? I think O'Neill's argument is essentially an argument against the State's role as "victim-maker." Governments everywhere like to have "wars" on various social problems. This reinforces their power– and if it is a war to help "victims" of any sort– gives them a high moral ground. This double-edged sword, as history tells us, can be quite problematic when given to the wrong people and implemented in the wrong ways. Where do we go from here? O'Neill leaves us with a nice suggestion:
"If we really want to put an end to trafficking, then we should call for an end to all restrictions on immigration and for an open-door policy. In the meantime, please stop fantasising that trafficking is occurring everywhere, and stop labelling immigrants as victims who need the state kindly to take them back home again."
– Daniel Corbett
Baylor University professor Thomas Hibbs explores this question in an article for Christianity Today. First, and most obviously, Hibbs suggests that Donnie Darko's ascendency can be attributed to a general thirst among young people for films with substance and meaning. College students want, Hibbs notes, something better than the "superficially flattering portrait of sophisticated, jaded, and self-satisfied teens routinely provided by Hollywood." This is obviously true, but what about the content of the film– its metaphysics, its significance?
Hibbs doesn't express exasperation (as many do) at the film's blatantly inconclusive nature. (Think about the first time you saw the film and just how long you spent trying to figure out what, exactly, had happened?) He even casts a light of sympathy on this directorial choice, applauding it for leaving some of life's bigger questions, as the should be, open.
None of this is to say that a persistent and unquenched thirst for meaning is a good thing. In fact, Hibbs aruges the opposite. He seems to think that teenage brooding and pop psychology alike are not desirable in themselves:
"…bereft of direction or models of compelling beauty and sacrifice—aimless, adolescent longing will turn to destruction. One of the lessons of a film such as Darko is that facile self-help transcendence is as likely to breed reactionary nihilism in some children as it is to produce compliant souls in others."
Interesting. I rather like to see teen angst put in its place. Hibbs does not leave us without answers to these questions, and does not think college students should abandon their questioning. Rather, he suggest students should take a look at the Graham Greene story "The Destructors" (which I plan to soon) for a richer exploration into these questions.
– Daniel Corbett
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