BLUE SKILL LEVELS VERY LOW: No basic bungling left behind!

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2021

As seen in the New York Times: Skill levels within our own blue tribe are often extremely low. 

For one example, consider a guest essay which appeared in yesterday's New York Times, in the high-profile Sunday Review.

The essay was written by two Australian doctors. As published, and with headline included, their effort started like this:

Covid Zero Is No Longer Working for Australia

Australia was, until recently, heralded for its effective suppression of Covid-19; through strict border closures, prolonged lockdowns and its fortune as a remote island continent, the country was able to avoid a large-scale outbreak. The Delta variant has, however, turned that success upside down.

Despite more than half of Australia’s 25 million inhabitants living under very harsh restrictions—including overnight curfews, travel limits of only about three miles from home and limits on outdoor daily exercise to a couple of hours—cases have soared to more than 1,400 a day, the most since the pandemic began...

Compared to many developed nations, Australia had very low rates of infection and death during the pandemic's first few waves. 

This fact was widely noted. This relative success was sometimes attributed to Australia's stringent "Covid Zero" policies, policies which were sometimes described as "Fortress Australia."

Now, the Delta variant has "turned that success upside down"—or at least, so readers were told in yesterday's high-profile essay. Indeed, Australia's efforts at Covid suppression are "no longer working"—or so the Times headline said. 

Those statements are highly imprecise, but they're also very gloomy. As evidence for these characterizations, readers were offered this, and were offered this alone:

"Cases have soared to more than 1,400 a day, the most since the pandemic began."

Across Australia, there are now more than 1,400 new cases per day. That's the highest number of new cases since the pandemic began.

Obviously, it sounds like things have been moving in the wrong direction in Australia due to the Delta variant. Of course, that's true in many other nations, rather plainly including our own.

That said, are things really as bad in Australia as a suggestible reader might think from yesterday's essay? We decided to do what the New York Times didn't do. Out of basic curiosity, we decided to see how that number of new cases looks when adjusted for population, and when compared to current rates of new cases in other nations.

Fourteen hundred new cases a day—is that a lot or a little?  There's no way to make any such assessment from that raw number alone. 

But here's how Australia currently looks when compared to some other nations:

New cases per day, per million population
Seven-day rolling average, as of Sept. 10

United Kingdom: 573
United States: 439
France: 160
Germany:  129
Canada: 102
Japan: 90
Australia: 68
South Korea: 34

How about it? Has the emergence of the Delta variant "turned Australia's success upside down?" 

In fairness, the claim in question is so imprecise that it's virtually meaningless, except as a source of excitement. 

But after adjusting for population, Australia's rate of (reported) new cases is roughly one-seventh that of the United States—and it's roughly one-ninth that of the United Kingdom.

"Cases" is a relatively shaky statistic; case counts can turn on different degrees of testing in different nations. How about Covid deaths, which is likely a harder statistic?

Thank you for asking! When it comes to current Covid deaths, some numbers look like this:

Covid deaths per day, per million population
Seven-day rolling average, as of Sept. 11

United States: 5.0
United Kingdom: 2.1
European Union: 1.0
Australia: 0.3

At present, our own country's rate of Covid deaths is roughly seventeen times that of failing Australia.

At no point in yesterday's high profile essay was a statistical comparison offered between Australia and other comparable nations. The only statistic readers were offered was the hard count of news cases per day—a statistic which is wholly meaningless absent statistical context.

(We're told it's the highest number in Australia yet. But the number itself tells us nothing.)

Question! Has Australia's previous (relative) success really been "turned upside down" by the Delta variant? As any modestly skilled journalist would understand, the exciting claim is so imprecise that it's virtually meaningless.

With that obvious fact in mind, we'll pose a different question:

Should the New York Times have published an essay which offered only one statistic—a statistic which, on its own, is completely meaningless? We'll say that the answer is no.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but our skill levels remain quite low here in our human towns. That's even true within our blue tribe, here in our failing blue towns. 

Blue skill levels are very low! We'll be discussing this point all week, with Wittgenstein relegated to posts in the afternoons.

Tomorrow: In the New York Times Sunday magazine, a grossly misleading statistic about a terrible state of affairs


ANTHROPOLOGY HURTS: DiAngelo reinvents Jackie Robinson!

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2021

Why we made a mistake: When John McWhorter reviewed Robin DiAngelo, he highlighted Jackie Robinson.

To be more clear, he wasn't reviewing DiAngelo herself. He was reviewing her mammoth best-selling book, White Fragility, in an essay for The Atlantic. 

His essay appeared last July. Along the way, he wrote this:

MCWHORTER (7/15/20): When writers who are this sure of their convictions turn out to make a compelling case, it is genuinely exciting. This is sadly not one of those times, even though white guilt and politesse have apparently distracted many readers from the book’s numerous obvious flaws.

For one, DiAngelo’s book is replete with claims that are either plain wrong or bizarrely disconnected from reality. Exactly who comes away from the saga of Jackie Robinson thinking he was the first Black baseball player good enough to compete with whites? “Imagine if instead the story,” DiAngelo writes, “went something like this: ‘Jackie Robinson, the first black man whites allowed to play major-league baseball.’” But no one need imagine this scenario, as others have pointed out, because it is something every baseball fan already knows. 

We stumbled upon McWhorter's essay last weekend. We don't think we saw it in real time, when the pandemic was center stage.

McWhorter is extremely negative on DiAngelo's work; we're quite negative on her work too. That said, we were somewhat skeptical concerning his passage about Jackie Robinson, who was a sensational multi-sport athlete at UCLA before he became a professional baseball player.

(There was athletic talent in the family. Robinson's older brother, Mack Robinson, won the silver medal in the 200 at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He beat every sprinter in the world, except for Jesse Owen.)

In her book, does DiAngelo really misstate the way Robinson is typically remembered? McWhorter's account seemed perhaps a little bit fuzzy to us, and so we decided to check.

When we checked, we ruled in McWhorter's favor. We found that DiAngelo, a stone-cold dogmatist, had written the following account, beginning with the requisite statement of dogmatic true belief:

DIANGELO (page 26): The story of Jackie Robinson is a classic example of how whiteness obscures racism by rendering whites, white privilege, and racist institutions invisible. Robinson is often celebrated as the first African-American to break the color line and play in major-league baseball. While Robinson was certainly an amazing baseball player, this story line depicts him as racially special, a Black man who broke the color line himself. The subtext is that Robinson finally had what it took to play with whites, as if no black athlete before him was strong enough to compete at that level. Imagine if instead, the story went something like this: ‘Jackie Robinson, the first black man whites allowed to play major league baseball.’ This version makes a critical distinction because no matter how fantastic a player Robinson was, he simply could not play in the major leagues if whites—who controlled the institution—did not allow it.

In fairness, it may be that DiAngelo doesn't follow baseball. But she's supposed to be an expert on race, and that is an absurd account of the way these widely-remembered events are typically remembered.

Robinson is always remembered as "the first black man...allowed to play major league baseball." Has he ever been remembered as the first such man who was "strong enough to compete at that level?" 

We'd be surprised if anyone has framed it that way in, let's say, the last fifty years. We don't know whether anyone ever did.

Robinson is always remembered as "the first black man...allowed to play major league baseball." Quite often, it's major league owners, rather than "whites," who are fingered as the principal culprits in this widely remembered drama. 

But DiAngelo is the type of person who wants to spread the stain of blame as widely as humanly possible. She wants to finger everyone in the targeted group. 

Everyone has to be guilty; everyone has to be shamed. Only she herself will be left—she herself, seeing what no one else can see, as in the absurdly misdescribed case of the immortal Robinson. 

We don't want to finger DiAngelo as the classic "bad person" or villain. In our view, we humans are all at the mercy of the ways our human brains are wired, and some people's brains are wired to produce dogma of the vastly overstated kind.

According to top anthropologists, our brains are all wired to produce tribally-pleasing dogmas at times of enhanced tribal conflict. According to these credentialed experts, we humans are strongly inclined to divide into tribes, then to create the Storylines which help us proceed to our latest war.

We mention DiAngelo to highlight a major mistake we ourselves made last weekend. Over that elongated holiday weekend, we encountered so much of the dogma which currently rules our own blue tribe that we backslid on a previous decision.

At long last, we'd made the leap! We had finally come to see that the die has been cast. We had come to accept the fact that there is no reasoning with the way our self-impressed tribe currently deals with issues of gender and race. Or with the way we use our dogmas to distinguish ourselves from The Others.

Last weekend, we encountered so much of the ugly, low-IQ guff which currently drives our own tribe that we decided to backslide and attempt to discuss it. That was a very large mistake. Our tribe has passed the point of no return. These matters can't be discussed or debated in productive ways at this point.

There's simply no point in discussing these matters. As our nation slides toward the sea, our tribe loves Our Stories too much.

DiAngelo lies on the far edge of our tribe's current dogmas. Last weekend, C-Span rebroadcast the tape of her recent hour-long discussion with Eddie Glaude, and we watched the bulk of their discussion again. 

As we watched, we saw Glaude bow and scrape to one of the strangest figures we've ever seen in the American discourse. This doesn't mean that DiAngelo is a "bad person." It means that she lives in the realm of denunciation in a way few others do.

She lives in the realm of scorn and blame, and in the realm of shaming. According to experts, our brains are wired to accept the role of guilty party when we're confronted with such figures.

DiAngelo believes the various things she says, but we've never seen anything like her. In the end, she seems to have no sense of our species' inbred limitations—no sense of understanding.

She's cultural revolution / re-education all the way down. In whatever way, her brain seems to be wired to create a drama in which she herself is cast as the Last Righteous White Person Standing.

That stance strikes us as quite unhelpful. It also strikes us as dumb. That said, it's part of the stance Our Town has chosen as the current war takes shape. 

We actually saw a lot of garbage proceeding from Our Town last weekend. Some of Our Town's comment threads spilled with human loathing,  they now typically do. 

"This is the way we're wired to play," disconsolate scholars all told us.

This led us to make a mistake in our choice of topics this week. We were wiser when we had come to see that there's no point discussing such matters. 

We'll close with a note about Jackie Robinson, the former UCLA great:

We began following major league baseball at the very end of Robinson's relatively short career. (Due to his prior exclusion, he joined the Dodgers at age 28. His career ended at age 37, in part due to some physical problems.)

Robinson was no longer a great player at the end of his career. It wasn't until later that we learned how great he had actually been.

To wit:

Robinson joined the Dodgers in 1947. Two years later, he hit .342, with 124 TBIs and 37 steals. For full career stats, click here.

He was named the National League's Most Valuable Player. It's an award which was, and still is, bestowed by the nation's baseball writers. Robinson got 12 of 24 first-place votes, outdistancing Stan Musial's five.

Those writers have been known to punish candidates they disfavor. In the famous 1947 case, Ted Williams won the triple crown in the American League, but wasn't elected MVP. One writer excluded Ballgame from his full list of ten picks.

Two years later, that same group went ahead and honored Robinson. It's a bit surprising to us that they did, but it also seems that it might be somewhat instructive.

DiAngelo isn't a "hater," but she's very much a loather. Mainly, she's a dogmatist, an apostle of guilt and shame. The glass can never be one percent full. The novelized account of the world is built upon nothing but blame.

The rest of us are wired to accept our mandated guilt even as we build our own tribal dogmas. We can see how dumb The Others are, but we seem unable to stop creating and churning such novelized dogma as this:

GIVHAN (9/8/21): Trayvon Martin was a kid carrying candy when he was killed and a toxic public tried to use his childish missteps and impetuousness as evidence of malevolence. 

In that tragic incident, he was just a kid carrying candy, full and complete total stop! Other facts have been disappeared. We prefer our stories this way.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but our own blue tribe is unmistakably human. We love to repeat our tribal tales. Disconsolate experts keep suggesting that in this case, as in all other historical instances, there may be no turning back.

Final point:

As this story has taken shape, our logicians have been on sabbatical somewhere on Neptune, debating the Theaetetus! 

For the record, there will be no recovery from that lack of intellectual leadership. It's just an interesting story, one involving a bit of pushback from the later Wittgenstein, who was barely coherent.

Professor Glaude bows and scrapes on that C-Span tape. By the rules of the game, DiAngelo's presentations simply have to be right, even when she's telling him how he feels each day.

More politely, he defers. Our wiring is very much like that, despondent top experts insist.

The next two years: Robinson hit .328 in 1950, .338 the following year.

Whites didn't name him MVP! Whiteness is like that, we'll guess.


ANTHROPOLOGY HURTS: As logicians conduct their forever crusade...

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2021

...we may start resembling The Others: Right on through the 20th century, the warring sides continued their age-old battle.

In this instance, we aren't referring to the Croats, the Muslims and the Serbs, the principal groups in the ugly and tragic Kosovo wars of the early 1990s.

Instead, we're referring to the Unitarians and the Revisionists, whose extremely high-end "forever war" we cited just last week. 

The dispute between these determined tribes has extended through thousands of years. That helps explain why we rubes have to fend for ourselves, in the abandoned state major experts describe as "the silence of the logicians."

The logicians no longer offer guidance. Instead, they engage in this war:

The Theaetetus is a principal field of battle for one of the main disputes between Plato’s interpreters. This is the dispute between Unitarians and Revisionists.

Unitarians argue that Plato’s works display a unity of doctrine and a continuity of purpose throughout. Unitarians include Aristotle, Proclus, and all the ancient and mediaeval commentators; Bishop Berkeley; and in the modern era, Schleiermacher, Ast, Shorey, Diès, Ross, Cornford, and Cherniss.

Revisionists retort that Plato’s works are full of revisions, retractations, and changes of direction. Eminent Revisionists include Lutoslawski, Ryle, Robinson, Runciman, Owen, McDowell, Bostock, and many recent commentators.

[...]

In the twentieth century, a different brand of Revisionism has dominated English-speaking Platonic studies. This owes its impetus to a desire to read Plato as charitably as possible, and a belief that a charitable reading of Plato’s works will minimise their dependence on the theory of Forms...

Those Platonic Studies Today! An emergent brand of Revisionism "owes its impetus to a desire to read Plato as charitably as possible." 

Hopefully, this more charitable reading will minimize scholarly focus on Plato's theory of Forms, which has always seemed ridiculous, especially to freshmen in college.

Our Unitarians and our Revisionists are off in the Holy Land. This has left us to fend for ourselves, as we attempt to conduct unaided public discussions.

Left on our own, we aren't real sharp! Today, we'll start with a minor but persistent type of groaner, after which we'll move on to a Mandated Tribal Howler.

Left on our own, we aren't real sharp! Yesterday, we encountered this pair of headlines as part of a high-profile opinion column in our hard-copy New York Times:

Chaos at the School Board Meeting
Americans like to take out their grievances on low-level officials.

Those headlines accompanied an essay by Michelle Cottle. Cottle's lengthy opinion piece sat in the space which would otherwise belong to a New York Times editorial.

"Americans like to take out their grievances on low-level officials," the boxed sub-headline said. To its credit, the Times spelled the word "Americans" with a c, not with a k.

That said, how many Americans "like to take out their grievances on low-level officials?" Do most of us take pleasure that way? Is that what we all like to do?

Cottle made no attempt to say. But she started and ended her essay with these sweeping claims:

COTTLE (9/8/21): America’s school board meetings are out of control.

[...]

All these fights are purportedly waged For the Good of the Children, even as the children are being used as pawns. It is not a pretty sight. But it is the American way.

Readers, to what extent are America's school board meetings "out of control?" In the course of her long essay, Cottle didn't say.

Also this:

To the extent that some such meetings have been tumultuous, even borderline violent, to what extent is that "the American way?"

There was no attempt to make that assessment either. We were left with the sweeping claims—the blatantly silly, sweeping claims which can quickly be translated, by The Others, into the latest version of Hating Amerika First.

In this way, our blue tribe's journalists tend to spout when the logicians are away. For a similar example, you can go to Slate, where Willa Paskin started a TV review as shown:

PASKIN (9/7/21): Authorization, like authority itself, is a tricky thing. Impeachment: American Crime Story, about the Bill Clinton–Monica Lewinsky affair, is the third season of the FX anthology series, but the first to be effectively authorized by the real-life version of its major character. The creators had already optioned a book on the scandal (by the disgraced Jeffrey Toobin) when producer Ryan Murphy saw Monica Lewinsky at a party and told her he thought it would be “gross” for anyone to try and tell the story without her. Lewinsky, who was just 24 when the nation turned her into a punchline and destroyed her life, agreed to come on board as a producer. Impeachment is the grand apologia she authorized—but maybe not the one she deserves.

Sadly, the latest hustlers are making a buck by pretending to examine this unfortunate episode in a high-profile "docudrama" series. 

Credit to Paskin, after all these years, for describing Lewinsky as 24, rather than as the journalistically mandated, though inaccurate, "21-year-old intern." 

Back in the day, and for years afterward, our journalists seemed to love the inaccurate description. They used it again and again and again, and then they used it some more.

That said, did "the nation" turn Lewinsky into a punchline back in the day? Did everybody take that approach, or did some players cast themselves in the leadership role?

This question may not have occurred to Paskin. A bit later, she offers this:

PASKIN: All of this would seem to make [Lewinsky] a perfect subject for American Crime Story, which has always had a revisionist bent...Lewinsky occupies a unique place in the culture as the woman so scandalized it’s nearly impossible to forget her. She is the figure we did dirtiest, most lastingly, and for the least offense. Unlike with [Marsha] Clark or Versace, her story doesn’t pack a “well, I never thought of it that way!” punch. If you never thought we did Monica wrong, you’ve just never thought about it.

Did "we" all do Lewinsky dirty and wrong? Did no one play a lead role? 

Paskin may not want to say. Or this type of casual dumbness may be so widespread that it never occurred to her to winnow her sweeping claim down.

On balance, our blue tribe is extremely unimpressive. On the other hand, the other tribe seems to have lost its mind altogether at this point in time. 

For this, and for reasons of basic brain-wiring, it's hard for us, in our blue tribal towns, to see how unimpressive our thought leaders routinely are. But in truth, our tribe just isn't sharp at all. The evidence is on display in the Post and the Times every morning, not excluding today.

Does "America" likes to beat up on low-level officials? Did "we" do Lewinsky wrong?

This is one of the (many) childish ways our top journalists tend to reason. For a more remarkable example of where our flailing tribe currently stands, consider Robin Givhan's latest column in the Washington Post.

Givhan was discussing the acting career of the late Michael K. Williams. Early on, she clambered aboard the "What We Do" train, then gave it a mandated twist:

GIVHAN (9/8/21): In Williams’s rendering of [the fictional character] Omar, there was a broader story about stereotypes and prejudices and our stubborn need to place people into either the darkness or the light. We want to sort folks into categories: good or bad, innocent or guilty, deserving or undeserving, perfect or canceled. White or suspicious.

In that passage, Givhan said that "we" want to sort folks into categories. She then suggested that "we" want to sort people like this:

White people versus suspicious

Do "we" all sort the world that way? Do "we" always do that?

In Our Town, our journalists will routinely pretend that we do, even as we frequently do the opposite. Amazingly, Givhan went on to offer this:

GIVHAN: It’s more difficult making room for the wounded or the righteously avenging in real life. It’s harder to make peace with Black and Brown agitators even when the laws that have been broken are more like twigs than tree trunks, even when what’s actually been broken isn’t a law but a glass ceiling or a velvet rope or dusty, old tradition. In the real world, Black men selling loose cigarettes like Eric Garner or accused of passing a counterfeit $20 bill like George Floyd can barely get their due as flawed humans—let alone as defiant heroes.

Omar marched down the street wielding a sawed-off shotgun and people found him redeemable. Philando Castile had a permit for his gun and was killed by a police officer whom a jury then acquitted. Trayvon Martin was a kid carrying candy when he was killed and a toxic public tried to use his childish missteps and impetuousness as evidence of malevolence. Ahmaud Arbery was jogging and made the mistake of being curious about an empty house.

Is that true? In the real world of the past sixteen months, was the late George Floyd barely able to get his due as a flawed human being? 

How invested in propaganda must someone be to disregard the actual ways in which the actual Floyd has been widely memorialized and remembered? Meanwhile, was Trayvon Martin "a kid carrying candy when he was killed," full stop?

For better or worse, he wasn't. He was also a kid who was banging someone's head on the ground, or on some pavement, in a way which Ta-Nehisi Coates quickly said could have been fatal. 

But here within our own dying tribe, such facts are routinely airbrushed away, so desperate is our need for Culturally Perfect Tribal Tales which keep the world sillily simple.

By the way: Did "a toxic public" really "try to use [Martin's] childish missteps and impetuousness as evidence of malevolence?" 

Some members of the public certainly did! Elsewhere, people like Givhan set to work washing those "childish missteps" away. They've made it all about the candy, even as they've eliminated the head being banged on the ground. 

According to leading anthropologists, our human brains are wired to produce these kinds of assessments. In bringing such matters to our attention, anthropology may seem to hurt.

To a large extent, the other tribe seems to have lost its mind at this juncture. That said, the journalistic leadership of our own failing tribe is reliably unimpressive, whether with the minor flaws or with the Gross Reinventions.

Here within our own failing town, we complain about The Others. But are we mainly different from The Others, or are we quite a bit like them?

We complain about Others. Meanwhile, our logicians are off in the holy land, conducting their silly forever crusade concerning the theory of Forms!

Tomorrow: McWhorter (pretty much) gets it right


If you don't like the headline, just wait a while!

 WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2021

Same column, two dueling heads: Kevin Drum doesn't like the headline on Bret Stephens' column today. As Drum notes, the headline in question says this:

Another Failed Presidency at Hand

He may have preferred the headline which appeared above the same column in today's print editions. That alternate headline says this:

Biden Can Still Save His Presidency

Which headline fits the column's content better? That's a matter of judgment. To read the column, click here. 

For our money, the real nightmare is the way the Times is now selling its weekly Bret Stephens/ Gail Collins "Conversation."

The "humor" is horrible all the way down. Yesterday, the cloying colloquy appeared in print editions, for at least the second time. This raises a horrible possibility:

The Times may have found that its subscribers actually like this feature!

Special bonus observation: David Ignatius' column in today's Washington Post runs on a similar theme. That said, his headlines do a better job of agreeing with one another in tone:

Biden badly needs a new beginning, or:

Biden needs to turn the page from a painful August

The second headline appeared in this morning's print editions. To peruse the first headline, click this. 

Does Biden need to turn the page? We can't quite say that's wrong.


ANTHROPOLOGY HURTS: The anthropology of logic!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2021

John McWhorter's (very good) kids: Friend, do you believe it? Do you believe either part of John McWhorter's rather familiar claim?

Do you believe either part of the portrait he sketched? As we noted yesterday, the first part goes like this:

MCWHORTER (9/3/21); Scientific investigators of how children learn to read have proved repeatedly that phonics works better for more children. Project Follow Through, a huge investigation in the late 1960s led by education scholar Siegfried Englemann, taught 75,000 children via the phonics-based Direct Instruction method from kindergarten through third grade at 10 sites nationwide. The results were polio-vaccine-level dramatic. At all 10 sites, 4-year-olds were reading like 8-year-olds, for example.

Friend, do you believe it? Do you believe that, in the course of "a huge investigation" way back in the late 1960s, 4-year-olds ended up reading like 8-year-olds at all ten sites nationwide?

Do you believe that happened? For various reasons, we're inclined to doubt that it did.

But also, how about this? Do you believe that public schools across the nation have simply ignored that "polio-vaccine-level" result? Do you believe that, in the face of some such results, they simply went on ignoring phonics? 

Do you believe that second claim? Because that's the second part of the picture McWhorter painted last week in his opinion column / essay for the New York Times.

Do you believe either one of those claims? Everything is possible, of course. But we aren't inclined to believe either one of those claims. 

That said, we're taking a few days off from our recent focus to discuss a painful fact—the fact that anthropology hurts. 

Increasingly, anthropology is teaching us that we humans really aren't "the rational animal!" With that in mind, let's consider a bit of somewhat non-rational conduct as McWhorter's essay unfolds.

On balance, we're fans of McWhorter's work, but we're inclined to think that he sometimes gets a bit too "cranky" (his partial self-description). This may tend to take him out over his skis, as may have happened in his essay last week.

For starters, who is John McWhorter? According to the leading authority on his life, he grew up in a highly literate home, then took things from there:

McWhorter was born and raised in Philadelphia. His father, John Hamilton McWhorter IV, was a college administrator, and his mother, Schelysture Gordon McWhorter, taught social work at Temple University. He attended Friends Select School in Philadelphia and after tenth grade was accepted to Simon's Rock College...

He ended up getting a Ph.D. in linguistics from Stanford. "Since 2008, he has taught linguistics, American studies, and classes in the core curriculum program at Columbia University, where he is currently an associate professor of English and Comparative Literature."

McWhorter came from a highly literate home. He's a high academic achiever. 

Still and all, we think he's a little too "cranky" at times. In the current example, here's where that deeply hurtful anthropology comes in:

In his essay for the Times, McWhorter claims that the phonics-based Direct Instruction method works for all kids, whatever their race or their family income. "Crucially, the method works well with poor as well as affluent children," he says at one point. 

Phonics works for everyone's kids! That isn't true for the rival "whole word" method:

MCWHORTER: [The whole word method] tends to work for children from book-lined homes where reading is taught almost by osmosis by family members because print is so deeply embedded in the home culture. But for other children, the whole word method is a big gamble; they learn better by being, well, taught: sounding out words letter by letter.

The whole word method tends to work for kids from highly literate families. But Direct Instruction—featuring phonics—works for everyone's kids:

MCWHORTER: We have known how to teach Black children, including poor ones, how to read since the Johnson administration: the Direct Instruction method of phonics. In this case, Black children don’t need special materials; districts need incur no extra expenses in purchasing such things. I consider getting Direct Instruction to every Black child in the country a key plank of three in turning the corner on race in America...

McWhorter offered those assessments just last week. According to McWhorter, Direct Instruction works for everyone, including black kids from low-income or poverty backgrounds.

In theory, that could be true, of course. We can't prove that it isn't.

But this is where the pain of anthropology arrives upon the scene. It isn't just McWhorter's faith in a high-flying claim from the 1960s. It's also the anecdotal claim with which he ends his piece.

Near the end of his essay, McWhorter offers this further endorsement of the Direct Instruction method:

MCWHORTER: In our moment, as our children go back to school, pandemic-related issues are a clear priority for all of us. However, school boards should be pressured as much as possible to teach reading via the Direct Instruction method of phonics. And if they won’t, there’s what I call the magical book: “Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons,” by Englemann with Phyllis Haddox and Elaine Bruner. I’ve seen this method work in my own home, having used it with both of my children and watched that light go on.

Because my favorite animal is the okapi, my youngest recently drew me a picture of one labeled “O’Copy.” (“Well, that’s how some people spell ‘o’!”) Charmingly mistaken, but clearly evidence of someone who is now engaging print well. She’s 6. Lit’racy for real—and this level of ability is normal for kids who learn the Englemann way.

We'll guess that McWhorter's kids are lucky, in various ways, in who they got for their parents. But his kids are textbook examples of kids who are growing up in "book-lined homes where reading is taught almost by osmosis by family members because print is so deeply embedded in the home culture."

For the record, their father identifies as black; according to their father, their mother identifies as white and Jewish. But their success with "the Englemann way" doesn't support the claim that everybody's 4-year-olds will jump ahead four calendar years if they just get taught with phonics.

Even anecdotally, the success of McWhorter's (very good) kids can't be used to establish his basic point. Yet there they are, at the end of his essay, offered as the final bit of evidence in support of his rather implausible two-part claim.

What does this have to do with anthropology—with the way anthropology hurts? Our answer would go like this:

McWhorter is a professor at Columbia; he's a high academic achiever. But even he swallows the sweeping claim about Direct Instruction's mammoth success without a hint of skepticism, and he closes his essay with an anecdotal example which is wholly irrelevant to his most important claim.

This is an example of the anthropology of logic (or of rationality) at the highest academic and journalistic levels. McWhorter's example doesn't make sense, but there it sits in the New York Times, offered by a Columbia professor. And this kind of bungled logic is on wide display, right here within our own blue tribe, every day of the week.

As we'll see in the next two days, the anthropology of logic is deeply hurtful—and that's even true Over Here!

The Others have basically lost their minds. That said, the hurtful examples we're going to show you will come from the stars of our own flailing tribe.

Anthropologically, it's very bad among The Others. But in the absence of the logicians, what are we like Over Here?

Tomorrow: In the absence of the logicians, Storyline typically rules


BREAKING: Wittgenstein quotes the Theaeteus!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2021

But what were his books about?: According to an array of experts, the later Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations was the most important philosophy book of the 20th century.  

For better or worse, it's hard to tell what Wittgenstein was talking about in the puzzling book (link below). For this and at least one other reason, this most important philosophy book of the century plays exactly zero role in our primitive public discourse.

According to those same experts, Wittgenstein's earlier book, the nimbly-named Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1921), was the fourth most important philosophy book of the 20th century. For non-specialists, it's impossible to know what he was talking about in that earlier book.

(A bit of chronology: Wittgenstein died of cancer in 1951, at age 62. Philosophical Investigations was published two years later.)

Last week, we spent some time discussing the Theaetetus. Right on through the 20th century, academic philosophers still belonged to warring schools of thought concerning Plato's unreadable text.

Fairly early in Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein quotes the Theaetetus. The passage in question helps explain why Wittgenstein's books are so hard to understand.

For the record, Philosophical Investigations isn't divided into chapters. For whatever reason, it's divided into numbered passages. These passages are routinely referred to as "paragraphs," even though the passages routinely contain several standard paragraphs. 

At any rate, in this, the 46th numbered passage, Wittgenstein quotes the Theaetetus. As he does, he includes a reference to his own first book:

46. What lies behind the idea that names really signify simples?—

Socrates says in the Theaetetus: "If I make no mistake, I have heard some people say this: there is no definition of the primary elements—so to speak—out of which we and everything else are composed; for everything that exists in its own right can only be named, no other determination is possible, neither that it is nor that it is not...But what exists in its own right has to be...named without any other determination. In consequence it is impossible to give an account of any primary element; for it, nothing is possible but the bare name; its name is all it has. But just as what consists of these primary elements is itself complex, so the names of the elements become descriptive language by being compounded together. For the essence of speech is the composition of names."

Both Russell's "individuals" and my "objects" (Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus) were such primary elements.

Deletions by Wittgenstein. "Russell" is Bertrand Russell, Wittgenstein's early mentor. 

That passage helps explain something about this most important book:

A great deal of the most important book is a rolling critique of the fourth most important book. This is never stated in a straightforward way, a fact which adds to the maddening obscurity of the most important text.

In effect, Wittgenstein was rejecting the approach to "philosophy" which he had accepted when he wrote the Tractatus as a very young hombre. In effect, he was walking away from an addled tradition which had persisted for several thousand years—the classic "duffer" tradition which led Whitehead to say that all of western academic philosophy was "a series of footnotes to Plato."

As we noted again this morning, Professor Horwich has offered a bone-crushing account of Wittgenstein's work in Philosophical Investigations. According to Horwich, Wittgenstein was now saying that that the prevailing academic tradition had long (unknowingly) concerned itself with "mere pseudo-problems, the misbegotten products of linguistic illusion and muddled thinking." 

It seems to us that Horwich is right. That said, Wittgenstein was such an obscure writer that it's hard to discern what he's talking about through the bulk of the last century's most important philosophy book.

Ironically, some highly useful rules for the road emerge from this bewildering jumble—approaches which help us avoid certain types of conceptual confusion. (In Horwich's terms, certain types of "linguistic illusion and muddled thinking.")

Philosophy professors have thoroughly failed to bring such information forward. We'll guess that, as  a general matter, they haven't noticed that these rules for the road exist.

We'll discuss those rules for the road in the weeks and month ahead. For today, you can see the passage where Wittgenstein finally quit the Theaetetus, several thousand years later. 

As patriots, we're going to call it the spirit of 46!


ANTHROPOLOGY HURTS: McWhorter / DiAngelo / Wittgenstein / Blow!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2021

Do you believe this happened?: Like love, anthropology hurts. 

That said, it also teaches. According to leading scholars in the field, anthropology teaches us that we humans pretty much aren't "the rational animal."

In the western tradition, we'd always been taught that we were. Anthropology says that we basically aren't. For a recent example, consider:

At present, by journalistic convention, it's back-to-school time in the United States. Perhaps for that reason, John McWhorter has offered an essay about the best way to teach kids to read.

Does some such "best way" really exist? We wouldn't assume that it does.

That said, McWhorter feels sure that instruction in phonics works better, for more children, than the so-called "whole word" method. In this passage, he starts by defining the dueling approaches:

MCWHORTER (9/3/21): A popular strain in the education world has it that English’s spelling is so bad that there’s no point in teaching children how to sound out words letter by letter. Rather, they should learn to recognize whole words at a time by the general look of them: the whole word method.

And that may be the way you learned to read. It tends to work for children from book-lined homes where reading is taught almost by osmosis by family members because print is so deeply embedded in the home culture. But for other children, the whole word method is a big gamble; they learn better by being, well, taught: sounding out words letter by letter.

In a word, phonics...

With instruction in phonics, kids are taught to "sound out words." With "the whole word method," kids are encouraged to recognize whole words—including the many irregular words which they pretty much can't "sound out."

As he continues, McWhorter speaks up in favor of phonics. Most strikingly, he revisits a long-standing claim about a long-ago miracle cure:

MCWHORTER: In a word, phonics...

Scientific investigators of how children learn to read have proved repeatedly that phonics works better for more children. Project Follow Through, a huge investigation in the late 1960s led by education scholar Siegfried Englemann, taught 75,000 children via the phonics-based Direct Instruction method from kindergarten through third grade at 10 sites nationwide. The results were polio-vaccine-level dramatic. At all 10 sites, 4-year-olds were reading like 8-year-olds, for example.

Friend, do you believe that claim? Do you believe that actually happened?

In that passage, McWhorter describes a "dramatic," "polio-vaccine-level" cure for our reading woes. But friend, do you believe it? 

Do you believe that, in the late 1960s, "a huge investigation" ended with  "4-year-olds reading like 8-year-olds" at all ten sites nationwide? Do you believe that happened? 

Everything is possible, of course. But for reasons we've described many times, we can't say we're ready to swear that any such thing really happened. 

More to the point, do you believe that those miracle results were recorded in the course of "a huge investigation" but, more than fifty years later, that finding has had little or no effect on the way reading is taught across the United States? 

Friend, do you believe that? Do you believe that no one reacted to the spectacle of "4-year-olds reading like 8-year-olds" in ten out of ten research sites? That everyone has just plowed ahead, as if no such thing ever happened?

Sadly, we'll acknowledge that some such thing is possible. In a way, that helps establish anthropology's hurtful point!

For ourselves, we're not strongly inclined to believe that any such "polio-level" miracle event ever  happened. In our experience, claims of public school miracle cures have routinely turned out to be fraudulent, bogus, false.

It has happened again and again and again. In this particular area, there's been a whole lot of Bogus out there!

That doesn't mean that this particular miracle cure didn't actually happen. But it doesn't seem to have crossed McWhorter's mind that the polio-level event he's describing, followed by nationwide indifference, may not have really occurred.

McWhorter read about that miracle outcome, and it seems he simply assumed that it must have taken place. We'd grade him way down on points for that, but anthropology makes it clear that we humans tends to reason in such imperfect ways.

Man [sic] is the rational animal, we've long told ourselves in the west. Increasingly, anthropology teaches us that this has never been so.

The later Wittgenstein's work can be seen as a highly specialized part of that process—of the process by which we've been shown that our highly self-impressed species just isn't deeply rational at its core after all. 

According to Professor Horwich, the later Wittgenstein taught that high-end academic philosophy had long concerned itself with "mere pseudo-problems, the misbegotten products of linguistic illusion and muddled thinking." By that account, our most exalted high-end thinkers hadn't been successfully "rational" at all!

Let's leave that aside for now. In the next few days, let's briefly turn to the here and now—especially to the here and now as practiced by our own blue tribe here in our own blue towns.

We'd give McWhorter a failing grade for his highly credulous column concerning that miracle cure. At the same time, we'd give him a very high grade for the essay he wrote, in July of last year, about the antiracism theoretics of Robin DiAngelo, a major star in our towns.

Wherever Franklin D. Roosevelt looked, he saw "one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished." Wherever we look today, we see a blue tribe which is reasoning very poorly, and perhaps counterproductively, concerning issues of gender and race.

DiAngelo and Blow, oh my! But also, the latest on Gawker—and our blue tribe's war-inclined commenters! 

We encountered this stuff all weekend long. The highly jumbled later Wittgenstein seemed to be lurking nearby.

Tomorrow: Charles Blow spots the Klan


Bruenig, McWhorter get it right!

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2021

A pair of accurate statements: You rarely see accurate statements.

Perusing the discourse of these end days, you'll see plenty of statements which are overstated or wrong. You'll also see statements which may be hard to paraphrase or to parse.

You'll rarely see statements which are accurate. Today, we refer you to two.

The first such statement comes from Elizabeth Bruenig, writing for the Atlantic. 

Bruenig wonders about the best way to persuade The Others to get vaccinated. Along the way, she makes the following statement:

"To persuade someone to do something, you have to present them with information that is persuasive to them, not strictly with information that’s persuasive to you." 

Given the way our faltering discourse works, we're scoring that, not just as an accurate statement, but also as an observation of extremely high cultural significance. 

McWhorter's statement is no less accurate—also, it's very important—but it's part of a tougher case. It appears as part of his discussion, for the New York Times, of the recent University of Wisconsin Boulder Removal Project.

Back in 2011, McWhorter was quoted describing himself as "a cranky liberal Democrat." In our view, he is perhaps a tiny bit cranky in his piece about the recent removal.

He makes sweeping statements about what various groups of people think and feel about the removal issue. It's hard to know how he can feel he knows what so many people believe.

Even so, along the way, he makes an accurate statement. Given the way our discourse currently works, his statement strikes us as very important. We'll shorten his statement a tad:

"Black people can be wrong."

Black people can be wrong? A sensible person might almost think that that would go without saying. But within the boundaries of modern Conventional Liberal Democrat Think, we often seem to act as if that obvious statement is wrong. 

We thought McWhorter got over his skis at various points in his discussion. Still, that statement struck us as one of the most significant accurate statements we've seen in a good long time.

We apologize for seeming to imply, without explanation or clarification, that there's actually some such thing as "black people."  We don't like to advance such assumptions, but sometimes you go to war with the failing discourse with the army of concepts you have.


THE THEAETETUS AND THEE: Did Nichols voice "justified true belief?"

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2021

Reporters, logicians won't speak: We've found ourselves drawn, again and again, to the start of David Brooks' new column this morning. 

(The column is non-political.)

In particular, we've been struck by the ways the column doesn't quite seem to "parse." (Doesn't quite seem to make sense.)

So much need for help from logicians, so little time! Headline included, the column starts like this:

BROOKS (9/3/21): You Are Not Who You Think You Are

You may think you understand the difference between seeing something and imagining it. When you see something it’s really there; when you imagine it, you make it up. That feels very different.

That intriguing headline drew us in. But just for starters, does that first paragraph parse?

In point of fact, when you "see" something, it is "really there." That's just the logic of the English language, a structure which has been developed "over the course of more than 1,400 years," building upon what went before.

When you see something, it is really there. That's just the logic of the language with which we speak to each other. 

Somewhat similarly:

If you "imagine" something, it's probably not "really there." Example:

If you see your boyfriend drive up in his car, your boyfriend is really there. If you imagine him driving up in his car, the chances are he's somewhere else.

The chances are he isn't really there. Most likely, you're just daydreaming, or wishing he could be there, or any one of a number of things.

Those situations don't feel "very different." The situations really are different, and that's just the meaning of words. 

But as Brooks continues, this difference is said to have generated a problem. The problem is said to be this:

BROOKS (continuing directly): The problem is that when researchers ask people to imagine something, like a tomato, and then give some of them a just barely visible image of a tomato, they find that the process of imagining it is hard to totally separate from the process of seeing it. In fact, they use a lot of the same brain areas.

Just for the record, at no point in the activity described has anyone seen a tomato. The subject has first been asked to imagine a tomato. He or she has then been shown (presumably, has been asked to look at) "a just barely visible image" of same.

The researcher finds that the subjects "use a lot of the same brain areas" in the course of these two activities. In this sense, the researcher is said to have found that "the process of imagining the tomato is hard to totally separate from the process of seeing it."

No one has actually seen a tomato, but this is what the researcher is now said to have found. Also, note the words "totally" and "hard:"

The researcher finds it hard to totally separate the one process from the other! At this point, we're slicing the lunch meat pretty thin. Brooks, who normally isn't like this, continues her meditation as shown:

BROOKS (continuing directly): And when you stop to think about it, that makes some sense. Your brain is locked in the pitch-black bony vault of your skull, trying to use scraps of information to piece together the world. Even when it’s seeing, it’s partly constructing what’s out there based on experience. “It turns out, reality and imagination are completely intermixed in our brain,” Nadine Dijkstra writes in Nautilus, “which means that the separation between our inner world and the outside world is not as clear as we might like to think.”

We grew up believing that “imagining” and “seeing” describe different mental faculties. But as we learn more about what’s going on in the mind, these concepts get really blurry really fast.

Our view? Something did "get really blurry really fast" here. But it wasn't anything we allegedly grew up believing.

Having stopped to think about it, Brooks finds that the researcher's finding—it's hard to totally separate seeing from imagining—does in fact make some sense. 

In our view, it's Brooks' thinking which has gone a bit blurry. We say that because he expresses his discovery as shown:

We grew up believing that “imagining” and “seeing” describe different mental faculties. 

In fact, we all grew up learning that “imagining” and “seeing” will typically be used to refer to different states of affairs. Along the way, did you ever find yourself believing that the terms refer to different "mental faculties?"

Whatever that term is supposed to mean, we're going to guess that you didn't.

Brooks isn't normally like this. That said, the start of this column shows what can happen—shows what does routinely happen—"when language goes on holiday," to quote the later Wittgenstein.

This sort of thing is especially likely to happen "when doing philosophy," the later Wittgenstein disconsolately said. But it also happens quite routinely in our normal political discourse.

In a slightly different world, logicians might step in to help us get a bit more clear about our new apparent discoveries. In our world, by way of contrast, the logicians tend to be engaged in debates like the one we featured yesterday. Werewolves of London again!

The Theaetetus is a principal field of battle for one of the main disputes between Plato’s interpreters. This is the dispute between Unitarians and Revisionists.

Unitarians argue that Plato’s works display a unity of doctrine and a continuity of purpose throughout. Unitarians include Aristotle, Proclus, and all the ancient and mediaeval commentators; Bishop Berkeley; and in the modern era, Schleiermacher, Ast, Shorey, Diès, Ross, Cornford, and Cherniss.

Revisionists retort that Plato’s works are full of revisions, retractations, and changes of direction. Eminent Revisionists include Lutoslawski, Ryle, Robinson, Runciman, Owen, McDowell, Bostock, and many recent commentators.

Unitarianism is historically the dominant interpretive tradition. Revisionism, it appears, was not invented until the text-critical methods, such as stylometry, that were developed in early nineteenth-century German biblical studies were transferred to Plato.

In the twentieth century, a different brand of Revisionism has dominated English-speaking Platonic studies. This owes its impetus to a desire to read Plato as charitably as possible, and a belief that a charitable reading of Plato’s works will minimise their dependence on the theory of Forms...

Twenty-four hundred years later, these academics can't quit Plato, or his Theaetetus! And good God:

As the actual world passes them by, the Revisionists allegedly act on "a desire to read Plato as charitably as possible"—on a desire to slide past the embarrassing silliness (and incoherence) of his so-called "theory of Forms!"

At least as portrayed by Plato, Socrates was so spectacularly annoying that he pretty much had to go. In Socrates' defense,  he at least seemed to be trying to "interrogate" the affairs of the day. We rarely see such reactions from modern-day practitioners in this lapsed academic field.

When's the last time you saw a logician comment on the endless follies of the public discourse? Simply put, it isn't done. Consider a recent case which, like so many others, has cried out for clarification.

We refer to the case of Rachel Nichols, who just last week got canceled. Rather, her daily cable TV sports show got canceled by the powers that be, with the strong suggestion that Nichols will never be seen on ESPN again.

This is modern-day "cancel culture" is the pre-existing literal sense! Headline included, NPR's account of the matter started off like this:

Rachel Nichols' ESPN Show Is Canceled After Her Comments About Maria Taylor

ESPN has removed Rachel Nichols from NBA coverage and has canceled her show The Jump, the network confirmed Thursday.

This comes nearly two months after Nichols' remarks became public in which she suggested that Maria Taylor was promoted because she is Black.

[...]

In early July, The New York Times reported on a recording of a conversation involving Nichols, an ESPN reporter. In the July 2020 recording, Nichols, who is white, is heard suggesting that Taylor got her job hosting the marquee program NBA Countdown during the NBA finals because she is Black.

"If you need to give her more things to do because you are feeling pressure about your crappy longtime record on diversity—which, by the way, I know personally from the female side of it—like, go for it," Nichols said in the recording. "Just find it somewhere else. You are not going to find it from me or taking my thing away."

NPR was discreet enough to disappear parts of the story. To wit:

The remarks in question were made during a personal phone conversation—a conversation Nichols believed to be private. 

Due to a technical snafu, the conversation was recorded at ESPN. An ESPN employee then took the tape of the private phone call and spread it all around.

Also this:

During the call, Nichols said that Taylor had been newly assigned to host NBA Countdown despite the fact that the assignment was contractually guaranteed to Nichols. As noted in the comments cited by NPR, Nichols seemed to believe that the switch had been made because ESPN had been "feeling pressure about [its] crappy longtime record on diversity."

How much of this was true? In particular, was the high-profile assignment in question contractually guaranteed to Nichols? Also, did ESPN replace Nichols in this ongoing role because Nichols is "white" and Taylor is "black?"

In part because of the way the New York Times has behaved, we can't answer those questions. To wit:

As it continues to report this matter, the Times has made no apparent attempt to learn if Nichols really did have the contractual guarantee to which she referred. 

Meanwhile, playing a bit of hero ball, the Times has continued reporting this matter in the manner shown:

DRAPER (8/26/21): ESPN has taken Rachel Nichols off its N.B.A. programming and canceled “The Jump,” the daily basketball show she has hosted for five years, the network confirmed Wednesday.

The show’s cancellation comes one month after The New York Times reported on disparaging comments made by Nichols about Maria Taylor, one of her colleagues at ESPN at the time. In a conversation with an adviser to the Lakers star LeBron James, Nichols, who is white, said that Taylor, who is Black, had been chosen to host 2020 N.B.A. finals coverage instead of her because ESPN executives were “feeling pressure” on diversity.

From beginning to end, the heroic Draper has said that Nichols came under fire because she had made "disparaging" or "demeaning" comments about Taylor. 

Other news orgs haven't made that claim as they've reported this matter. Nor is it clear why the heroic Draper did.

In the phone call she believed to be private, it's clear that Nichols made disparaging comments about ESPN's brass—about the corporate executives who eventually cancelled her last week. 

She said the channel, and its executives, had "a crappy longtime record on diversity." She said she herself was aware of this crappy record from the standpoint of gender inclusion.

Does ESPN have a crappy record on diversity? Inevitably, that's a matter of judgment. We wouldn't know how to score the claim, and the claim isn't being widely analyzed as part of this brouhaha. 

That said, we have no idea why Draper keeps claiming that Nichols made disparaging comments about Taylor. Nichols didn't say that Taylor had done anything wrong in this matter. In fact, she praised Taylor's voluminous work during the course of the phone call, a call she believed to be private.

Rather plainly, Nichols was criticizing the fellows who run ESPN; she never criticized Taylor. Playing a bit of hero ball, Draper and his editors keep saying that Nichols disparaged Taylor. The usual mob has run alongside, howling in the streets.

Please note:

NPR didn't claim, in its report, that Nichols disparaged Taylor. Neither did the Washington Post in its more disciplined report last week. 

The Washington Post simply reported what Nichols had said during the personal phone call. Only the Times positioned itself out in front of the wholly predictable mob.

At the reliably gruesome Daily Beast, the indictment of Nichols on this score was even more overstated. But that's the way our species' mobs have always worked, all the way back to the way the mob eventually went after Socrates.

(Plato discusses the "wickedness" of that behavior in the Seventh Letter.)

Borrowing from Brooks' headline, our mainstream journalists are not always who we may think they are. In this instance, Draper has been more the instigator of a mob, less a competent journalist.

Surely, any journalist can see the nature of this problem, but they won't be speaking up. The reason? Did you see the way Steven Pinker was attacked last summer when he used the term "urban crime" in the headline of a tweet?

(Speaking with Jonathan Rauch on C-Span, Pinker said that attacks of that type can't really harm tenured professors like him.  He said the attacks do serve to encourage silence from everyone else.)

Our journalists aren't going to speak about this. Our logicians and our ethicists won't be speaking up either. Our philosophers walked off their posts a long time ago, if they were ever there to begin with.

That said, this case is especially striking with respect to our logicians and "epistemologists." The reason would be this:

The Nichols case presents a perfect example of the traditional framework in which knowledge is said to be "justified true belief." You could almost bring in "the Gettier problem!" (For links, see below.) Just consider this:

Based on what she said in her private telephone call, Nichols seemed to believe that she'd been booted from a plum assignment on the basis of race.

(Was the assignment contractually guaranteed? We don't have the slightest idea. Nor has Draper shown any sign of trying to find out.)

Nichols voiced a certain belief. Obviously, it's possible that her belief may have been true. You'd have to be out of your mind to doubt that possibility.

(Did ESPN make the switch on that basis? In other words, did Nichols have a true belief? We have no way of knowing. Draper hasn't shown the slightest sign of trying to find out.)

Final point! Nichols is a long-standing ESPN insider. Did she have some inside knowledge which might justify her apparent belief? Did she have substantial reason for thinking her claim was true?

That's an obvious possibility! As such, it's possible that Nichols, in her private call, was voicing a justified true belief!

(Or not! Thanks to the existence of journalists like Draper, we live in a world where little effort will ever be made to find out. Storyline will prevail.)

The Nichols case falls into a framework our lethargic logicians love. That said, no logician has stepped forward to address this case, and no logician ever will.

What actually happened at ESPN? We have no way of knowing! But those of us in our liberal tribe have a Storyline we currently love, and people like Draper are playing hero ball as they run in the streets.

We watch a lot  of ESPN debate / discussion shows. Nichols was never a favorite of ours. 

That said, our failing nation has a crying need for help when it comes to the logic of race. Also, the behavior of people like Draper is helping doom our self-impressed tribe, and our failing society as a whole, to an onrushing perdition.

Our journalists aren't going to speak. Neither will the logicians. They're too busy batting around Plato's "theory of forms!"

A modern nation can't function this way. On Fox, The Others are (accurately) told that our tribe does function this way. This hastens our headlong decline.

Our academic elites may not be "who we think they are." Please write about that, David Brooks!

Concerning the Gettier problem: Concerning "justified true belief," see last Friday's report.

Included is a brief overview of "the Gettier problem." As you read about this embarrassing silliness, don't let the children look on!


THE THEAETETUS AND THEE: Rauch was impressed with the Theaetetus!

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2021

Our reaction may have differed: Today, we're going to take a guess:

Long ago and far away, we were assigned to read the Theaetetus.

This would have happened in the fall of '65, when we were a freshman at a well-known university. It happened to Jonathan Rauch maybe thirteen years later, when he was a freshman at Yale in the class of 1982. 

At the start of his new book, The Constitution of Knowledge, Rauch describes his reaction to, in effect, first looking into Plato:

At age eighteen, as a college freshman, I encountered Theaetetus with a jolt. I sensed that it asked an important question, yet it provided no answer. Instead, it was an exercise in relentless deconstruction, in gentle but ruthless analytical demolition. Plato’s message came through in bold relief: this business about truth, about distinguishing reality from error—it is not easy, and if you think otherwise, go away!

To read Rauch's first chapter, click here.

We have no specific recollection of our own reaction to this text, but we'll guess it was somewhat different. We don't mean that as a criticism of Rauch, who conducted a highly intelligent discussion of his new book on C-Span just last weekend.

He spoke in dialogue with Steven Pinker, who once tweeted the offensive term, "urban crime."

We do recall our general reaction to the class in which we were enrolled. The class, Hum 5, was part of our university's "general education" program. It involved a survey of the great books of the western world's tradition in the realm which is still described as philosophy.

The first semester was taught by Professor Albritton, from whom we later took the undergraduate Wittgenstein course. Through no obvious fault of Albritton's own, "taught" may not be the correct word: 

In point of fact, Albritton lectured.

Each Monday and Wednesday—or it may have been each Tuesday and Thursday—500 students sat in the large lecture hall, scribbling 500 sets of notes. We wondered why the university didn't just mimeograph the lectures, then pass them out. 

This would have saved the 500 students the need to scribble those notes. They could have sat and listened to the professor, imaginably paying closer attention to whatever it was he said.

It could even have saved Professor Albritton, a perfectly decent person, the need to read his lectures to us freshmen! He didn't have to leave home. We could have strayed in our dorms!

We also remember multiplying the price of tuition for each course by the number 500. Having attained this measure of income to the university, we wondered how much it could possibly cost the university to pay part of the professor's salary and to heat the room.

We were puzzled by the economics of the tedium into which we'd been thrown; we were that naive at the time. As for the tedium itself, good God! The tedium was overpowering.

Alfred North Whitehead famously said it, and we quote: 

"The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato."

Whitehead made this frequently quoted statement in Process and Reality (1929), the tenth most important philosophy book of the 20th century. No one remembers anything else he said in this highly important book. Meanwhile, the leading authority on the book captures its essence as shown:

"The cosmology elaborated in Process and Reality posits an ontology based on the two kinds of existence of entity, that of actual entity and that of abstract entity or abstraction."

Perhaps you can see why no one ever pretends to discuss this book. (Along with Bertrand Russell, Whitehead also co-wrote the fourth most important book.)

What did Whitehead say in his book? No one has any idea! In truth, the logicians—the professional academic philosophy specialists—had already ceased to be part of the western world's faltering discourse.

That one remark has been remembered. It's all been "a footnote to Plato," Whitehead said, failing to voice the possibility that the heart of the ongoing problem could perhaps be found right there.

On Monday, we noted a surprising assessment of the Theaetetus. The assessment is offered by the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, and it goes exactly like this:

The Theaetetus, which probably dates from about 369 BC, is arguably Plato’s greatest work on epistemology. (Arguably, it is his greatest work on anything.) Plato (c.427–347 BC) has much to say about the nature of knowledge elsewhere. But only the Theaetetus offers a set-piece discussion of the question “What is knowledge?”

Arguably, his greatest work on anything! After all, only the Theaetetus offers a set-piece discussion of the question, "What is knowledge?"—a question which doesn't necessarily make obvious sense.

It's all been a footnote to Plato, and this was his greatest work! With that in mind, we show you how the discussion in the Theaetetus starts, after an exhausting amount of preliminary throat-clearing.

Socrates is speaking to Theaetetus, a young student of mathematics. He mentions Theodorus, the youngster's math instructor:

SOCRATES: In the first place, I should like to ask what you learn of Theodorus: something of geometry, perhaps?

THEAETETUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And astronomy and harmony and calculation?

THEAETETUS: I do my best.

SOCRATES: Yes, my boy, and so do I; and my desire is to learn of him, or of anybody who seems to understand these things. And I get on pretty well in general; but there is a little difficulty which I want you and the company to aid me in investigating. 

Will you answer me a question: Is not learning growing wiser about that which you learn?

THEAETETUS: Of course.

SOCRATES: And by wisdom the wise are wise?

THEAETETUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And is that different in any way from knowledge?

THEAETETUS: What?

SOCRATES: Wisdom; are not men wise in that which they know?

THEAETETUS: Certainly they are.

SOCRATES: Then wisdom and knowledge are the same?

THEAETETUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Herein lies the difficulty which I can never solve to my satisfaction—What is knowledge? Can we answer that question? What say you? which of us will speak first?

To peruse the full dialogue, you can just click here. Now, let's consider that text:

In a sign of the tedium to come, Socrates establishes the fact that the wise are wise by virtue of wisdom. Also, that men (sic) are wise in that which they know.

From these observations, he concludes that wisdom and knowledge "are the same." As a minor aside, we'll suggest that, if they were really the same, we might not have two separate words.

At this point, Socrates makes a somewhat peculiar confession. His confession concerns a difficulty he says he could never solve:

Socrates could never answer the question concerning what knowledge is! In some ways, this confession may seem a bit odd.

In fact, we all know knowledge when we see it. The youthful Theaetetus proves this point without stating the point, instantly offering examples of knowledge. 

Socrates doesn't deny that he has cited examples of knowledge. Eventually, though, it becomes clear what Socrates wants to find:

Socrates wants to find a simplistic definition for "knowledge." This seems to mean that he wants to find some attribute which all examples of "knowledge" possess.

Several thousand years later, the later Wittgenstein helped us see that this isn't the way these things work. (File under: "family resemblances.") It may seem strange to think that this had to be explained several thousand years later, but let's recall the inappropriate observation Professor Horwich recently offered, in the New York Times no less:

[The later Wittgenstein's] attitude is in stark opposition to the traditional view, which continues to prevail. Philosophy is respected, even exalted, for its promise to provide fundamental insights into the human condition and the ultimate character of the universe, leading to vital conclusions about how we are to arrange our lives. It’s taken for granted that there is deep understanding to be obtained of the nature of consciousness, of how knowledge of the external world is possible, of whether our decisions can be truly free, of the structure of any just society, and so on—and that philosophy’s job is to provide such understanding. Isn’t that why we are so fascinated by it?

If so, then we are duped and bound to be disappointed, says Wittgenstein. For these are mere pseudo-problems, the misbegotten products of linguistic illusion and muddled thinking. So it should be entirely unsurprising that the “philosophy” aiming to solve them has been marked by perennial controversy and lack of decisive progress—by an embarrassing failure, after over 2000 years, to settle any of its central issues.

Say what? Has traditional philosophy been marked by "an embarrassing failure, after over 2000 years, to settle any of its central issues?" 

More to the point, is Professor Horwich allowed to say such things? Who gave him the right to do that?

Plato ended up talking about ideal forms and shadows on the wall of some cave. Twenty-four hundred years later, it fell to the later Wittgenstein to introduce the highly useful understanding that objects or states which share a name will be marked by a warren of "family resemblances," rather than by some one single "distinguishing characteristic."

That's a throw-away part of the later Wittgenstein's work—but, according to Horwich, Wittgenstein's later work has largely been thrown away. We won't try to settle this matter today, but we're willing to tell you this:

The Theaetetus is an unreadable, brain-jangling mess. In fairness, this wasn't Plato's fault!

Plato worked at the dawn of the west. To all intents and purposes, there was no prior work to draw on.

These were the earliest attempts to make sense out of anything much at all. But no, these attempts generally didn't make sense—unless you're a college freshman, assigned to read unreadable texts while saddled with the cultural conceit that they contain vast insight.

Simply put, they don't. But on this Planet of the Toffs, the duffers can't seem to quit these texts. Embarrassingly, the Stanford Encyclopedia tells us this about two dueling schools of thought:

The Theaetetus is a principal field of battle for one of the main disputes between Plato’s interpreters. This is the dispute between Unitarians and Revisionists.

Unitarians argue that Plato’s works display a unity of doctrine and a continuity of purpose throughout. Unitarians include Aristotle, Proclus, and all the ancient and mediaeval commentators; Bishop Berkeley; and in the modern era, Schleiermacher, Ast, Shorey, Diès, Ross, Cornford, and Cherniss.

Revisionists retort that Plato’s works are full of revisions, retractations, and changes of direction. Eminent Revisionists include Lutoslawski, Ryle, Robinson, Runciman, Owen, McDowell, Bostock, and many recent commentators.

Unitarianism is historically the dominant interpretive tradition. Revisionism, it appears, was not invented until the text-critical methods, such as stylometry, that were developed in early nineteenth-century German biblical studies were transferred to Plato.

In the twentieth century, a different brand of Revisionism has dominated English-speaking Platonic studies. This owes its impetus to a desire to read Plato as charitably as possible, and a belief that a charitable reading of Plato’s works will minimise their dependence on the theory of Forms...

Remember what the anthropologists say: We humans will always divide ourselves into tribes, with tribal warfare to follow!

Right on through the 20th century, the Revisionists battled the Unitarians about the Theaetetus! As they did, they retreated farther and farther from real events occurring in the real world.

Along the way, they subjected innumerable college freshmen with the task of trying to read, or pretending to read,  the Theaetetus, a study in overpowering tedium and lack of technical skill.

Right on through the 20th century, the Duffers had their noses buried in these tired old texts. The kids were encouraged to think this made sense. When it came to the failing discourse, we were pretty much left on our own. 

The logicians walked off their posts long ago. Tomorrow, they ignore an obvious epistemological problem, ripped from last week's headlines!

Tomorrow: ESPN and justified true belief. Not to mention "the Gettier problem!"


THE THEAETETUS AND THEE: As the linguists denounced Pinker's tweets...

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2021

...the logicians debated Plato: On June 14, 2020, Steven Pinker made a major mistake.

Everyone makes mistakes, of course, but this was a major mistake. In fact, Pinker may have made two such mistakes that day, depending on how you count them.

On that day, Pinker tweeted links to two opinion essays which had appeared in the Washington Post. One essay had been written by Patrick Sharkey, a sociology professor who's currently at Princeton.  

The other essay had been written by Rod Brunson, described by the Post as "the Thomas P. O’Neill Jr. professor of public life in the school of criminology and criminal justice and the department of political science at Northeastern University."

Pinker had tweeted links to those two essays. These were his major mistakes:

When he linked to the essay by Sharkey, he described Sharkey as "a researcher on urban violence & its decline." And not only that! When he linked to the essay by Brunson, he described Brunson as an "expert on urban crime."

In that way, Pinker committed two major mistakes. Here's what happened next:

One month later, more than five hundred academics "signed a letter seeking to remove him from the list of 'distinguished fellows' of the Linguistic Society of America." 

(We're quoting from Michael Powell's news report in the New York Times.) 

The scholars cited several grounds for Pinker's removal. One complaint concerned the fact that Pinker had used the terms "urban crime" and "urban violence" in those recent tweets.

According to the marauding linguists, the two-word phrases used by Pinker had been a pair of "dogwhistles." More specifically, they said the word "urban" "signals covert...support of views that essentialize Black people as lesser-than, and, often, as criminals."

No, we aren't making this up—and no, there's no longer any point in discussing or debating such matters within the tents of our own failing blue tribe. As our rapidly failing nation has slid into undeclared civil war, there's no way to slice the baloney too thin for various embattled groups, including some in our tribe.

In this case, the more than 500 academics are a subset of our own blue tribe. There's no longer any point in discussing or debating any matters concerning gender or "race" within that failing tribe. The ability to conduct such discussions is, by now, long gone.

At the Atlantic, Conor Friedersdorf hadn't yet thrown in the towel on such attempts at discussion. Last July, he went through several of the charges levied at Pinker, and—believe it or not—this one wasn't the dumbest.

You can read Friedersdorf's full piece if you want, but there's no longer any way to discuss or debate such matters within our blue tribe. By now, our practices are too far gone. Quite literally, it's all over now but the shouting.

Last weekend, we watched as Pinker and Jonathan Rauch discussed such matters on C-Span. For the record, the gentlemen agreed on a basic point:

The "trolling culture" of the right is a more serious problem at this point than the "cancel culture" of the left, Pinker and Rauch both said. But the cancel culture is very dangerous, they agreed, because of the role it's playing with our universities.

What is happening within our universities as our current breakdown proceeds? More specifically, where were the nation's logicians over the past (let's say) three decades as various groups—the mainstream press corps very much included—increasingly made a rolling joke of our failing discourse?

What were the logicians doing? How about the rest of the academic philosophy crowd? Over the weekend, we got an extended glimpse of that matter, thanks to the way Rauch started his new book.

Rauch's book is called The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth.  Based on his hour-long conversation with Pinker, we'll guess that it's very good.

But dear God! The book starts with the Theaetetus! As we noted on Monday, Rauch starts off like this:

In the public square of Athens, a homely, snub-nosed, bulgy-eyed  old man encounters a homely, snub-nosed, bulgy-eyed young man.  Hailing the young man and remarking on their resemblance, Socrates begins a conversation with Theaetetus and sets out to determine  whether they also resemble each other in their love of philosophy. Theaetetus protests that he is no great intellect; philosophical puzzles make him quite dizzy, “wondering whatever they can mean.” Ah! Then you are a philosopher: “This sense of wonder is the mark of the philosopher,” insists Socrates. “Philosophy indeed has no other origin.”

With that, in a conversation imagined by Plato 2,400 or so years ago, the old man commences to lead his new friend on an expedition into the densest thickets of epistemology. What is knowledge? What is error? How does error arise? Why is error even possible? Each question would seem to have an obvious answer, yet each obvious answer collapses upon examination.

To peruse the whole chapter, click here.

"What is knowledge? What is error? How does error arise? Why is error even possible?"

To the extent that those questions (in the abstract) make sense, it does seem that they might have fairly obvious answers. 

("How does error arise?" Today, the more relevant question might be, "How doesn't error arise?")

The Theaetetus is apparently viewed as one of Plato's major dialogues. Shortly after offering that account, Rauch volunteers a confession:

At age eighteen, as a college freshman, I encountered Theaetetus with a jolt. I sensed that it asked an important question, yet it provided no answer. Instead, it was an exercise in relentless deconstruction, in gentle but ruthless analytical demolition. Plato’s message came through in bold relief: this business about truth, about distinguishing reality from error—it is not easy, and if you think otherwise, go away!

When Rauch was a college freshman, he thought the Theaetetus was asking an important question (of some sort). You can't blame a freshman for that!

We're fairly sure that we were assigned that astoundingly tedious text in our first year of college too. Over the weekend, we learned more about the way the text has been treated by the academic powers-that-be down through these long, failing years.

Even as our failing society has been sliding toward the sea, the logicians and their colleagues have still been thumbing the Theaetetus! Tomorrow, we'll offer the shocking details.

After that, it's on to the saga of Rachel Nichols. Our logicians aren't going to notice, but that saga raises the age-old question concerning justified true belief. 

Tomorrow: From The Planet of the Toffs, a shocking state of affairs!


We link to the text of the Theaetetus!

 TUESDAY, AUGUST 31, 2021

Correcting yesterday's error: Yesterday, we thought we had provided a link to the text of the Theaetetus.

In fact, we posted the wrong link. If you want to proceed to that famous old text, you should just click here.

Should you try to read the Theaetetus? Each person will have to decide. With apologies, we're just correcting yesterday's error. More on this topic tomorrow.


THE THEAETETUS AND THEE: The fire has burned a lot of acres!

TUESDAY, AUGUST 31, 2021

But also, the Theaetetus: We're willing to call it a new "pet peeve." We'd also describe it as a source of instruction, of anthropological insight.

We refer to one of the ways the New York Times and the Washington Post are reporting the runaway fires now burning in the west. This very morning, this is the way the New York Times is describing the Caldor fire:

VIGDOR AND FULLER (8/31/21): A wildfire that had burned through remote areas in the Sierra Nevada for two weeks crested a ridge on Monday and began descending toward the major population centers along Lake Tahoe.

As the Caldor fire intensified amid dry and windy conditions, thousands of people along the lake’s southern and western shores were ordered to evacuate. Crews of firefighters sped to put out spot fires only miles from South Lake Tahoe, Calif.

[...]

Public safety officials warned that the Caldor fire, the latest to grip California during a particularly unforgiving summer for fire crews in the West, showed no signs of relenting. It had scorched more than 186,000 acres and was 15 percent contained on Monday.

As of Monday, the Caldor fire had scorched "more than 186,000 acres!" But is that really a lot of acres, or is it maybe a little?

Just a guess! Very few readers could translate that account of the fire's extent into a more recognizable unit of measure. That said, the Times includes that account of acreage in its second headline:

Evacuations Ordered Near Lake Tahoe as the Caldor Fire Chokes Region
The fire had spread to more than 186,000 acres and was 15 percent contained, according to Cal Fire.

Readers can likely discuss the meaning of  "15 percent." Can they intelligently discuss the meaning—the size, the sweep, the extent—of "186,000 acres?" 

We're going to guess that very few can. But the Washington Post adopts the same "acres only" approach in its reporting of the Caldor fire this morning. 

Yesterday, in an earlier online version of this morning's report, the Post threw in an apparent language error, offering this account:

LEONARD (8/30/21): But on Sunday, the flames moved aggressively under extremely low humidity and gusts. Since midnight, the fire has consumed nearly 170,000 acres and is 13 percent contained.

"Since midnight?" We assumed the writer meant to say something like "as of midnight," or "as of Monday morning." In this morning's print editions, the language has been cleaned up.

Friend, do you know how large an area 170,000 acres is? We're going to guess that you don't. 

Can you translate that to a more familiar unit of measure? We're going to guess that you can't.

The Post and the Times don't seem to be concerned about that. Only the Associated Press reported the extent of the fire by including a unit of measure—square miles—which would probably be more familiar to most American readers. 

You can see the AP provide that service in this news report.

For the record, 170,000 acres is equal to roughly 266 square miles; that could be an area of 13 miles by 20 miles, with six more square miles thrown in. We know that because we journeyed to this acres-to-square miles conversion site, where we gained the kind of knowledge we could understand and use. 

As of this morning, the Caldor fire had consumed something like 280 square miles of California acreage. We're amazed, and yet not amazed, to think that our brightest newspapers deprive their readers of such basic information.

In our view, it's instructive to see the way the Post and the Times have handled this basic point. It's instructive in the anthropological sense. It's a window onto the nature of the species.

As a species, we just aren't enormously sharp. This is especially true at heavily partisan times like these, when we humans are strongly inclined to divide into tribes and start creating Mandated Tribal Dogmas—mandated proofs of a person's membership in the embattled tribe.

At present, this tendency is on full public display in what's left of the national discourse:

Rather plainly, there's nothing so dumb that many members of the red tribe won't end up believing it. Then too, there's the way our own blue tribe tends to deal, at the present time, with matters of gender and race. 

But also, the Theaetetus!

Our own blue tribe's peculiar behaviors have surfaced a bit of late. In truth, there's nothing so dumb that we won't affirm it, just so long as it supports mandated beliefs concerning those areas of heightened concern.

Then too, the Theaetetus!

We've come to see that there's little point in discussing such incidents. It's the nature of Runaway Tribal Belief that its dogmas can't be amended or addressed by traditional means.

It's also true that we the people are basically on our own when it comes to such rolling behaviors. In last weekend's C-Span event, Steven Pinker mentioned some groups which are forming to address this growing problem within the academy, or at least so he said. 

For a few brief shining moments, Pinker had us believing in Camelot all over again.  But where has the cavalry been until now?

Consider the Theaetetus! Also, consider the traditional, generally reasonable formula according to which knowledge can be thought of as justified true belief.

Rachel Nichols seems to have had a certain belief concerning a certain decision by her bosses at ESPN. Plainly, her belief may have been true. (We have no way of knowing.)

As an insider at ESPN, she may even have had good reasons for her apparent belief! But when the mob runs in the street, such analysis goes on vacation.

Where the heck are the logicians, the brightest lights of our culture? We're badly in need of intelligent help but, to borrow from Jackson Browne,  they're "nowhere to be found."

Last weekend, Jonathan Rauch's new book led us back to the Theaetetus. In the next few days, we'll try to force ourselves to discuss Nichols' recent cancellation at ESPN, as opposed to the way her cancellation has been reported in the New York Times.

We'll definitely show you what we found when Rauch led us back to the Theaetetus! Pinker and Rauch to the side, our scholars walked off their posts long ago, as the later Wittgenstein is sometimes said to have found.

Tomorrow: Rauch describes the Theaetetus

A skeleton key to this report: Our tribe's treatment of acres can still be discussed. 

Not so with our mandated treatment of matters of gender and race