Politics

Former Arizona State Representative Pamela Gorman, whose promo video proudly proclaims her to be a gun-toting Bible thumper, spent some of her time in the Arizona legislature supporting Scientology front groups and denying the existence of human-caused global warming through her affiliation with the sleazy Heartland Institute. Here’s her video:

A few years ago, I noted that popular and wealthy libertarian investment writer Douglas Casey was making tacit references to L. Ron Hubbard doctrine in his writing. For example, I noted that he wrote (in an article titled “The New Praetorians” in the March 1996 issue of Liberty magazine): I have long believed that about 80% of the human race are basically people of good will.  About 17% can be classified as potential trouble sources--PTS's--who will basically bend with whatever wind prevails.  Only 3% are actively destructive sociopaths.  But that 3% tend to gravitate toward politics, the military, the media, the financial system, and other centers of power."I noted that the term "potential trouble source" (PTS) derives from Hubbard, who also identifies a similar percentages of the population into the categories of PTS and "suppressive persons" (SPs).  In a letter to Liberty which they refused to publish, I noted: L. Ron Hubbard wrote much about "potential trouble sources" (PTS's) and "suppressive persons" (SP's) whom he claimed made up 17.5 and 2.5 percent of the population, respectively (see Jon Atack, A Piece of Blue Sky: Scientology, Dianetics and L. Ron Hubbard Exposed, 1990, Carol Publishing Group. p. 155).  Hubbard's views on PTS's and SP's are set out at length in his book An Introduction to Scientology Ethics, where his definitions of crimes and suppressive acts make it clear that he is no friend of liberty.  The Church of Scientology has a long history of harassment and barratrous litigation against its critics which continues to this day on the Internet (see Spy, February 1996; Wired, December 1995; Skeptic, June 1995; and the Internet resources linked from http://www.thecia.net/~rnewman/scientology/home.html).I've further noted that Casey was on the financial committee of Libertarian Party presidential candidate Harry Browne in 1996, along with Michael Baybak.  Baybak is a Scientology OTVIII who played a major role in a sidebar story to Time magazine's famous 1991 "Cult of Greed and Power" article about Scientology, titled "Mining Money in Vancouver." Finally, I noted that a Scientology-critical website that publishes Scientology service completions shows multiple Scientology courses completed by a Douglas Casey, who may well be the same libertarian investment writer. My objection is not that Casey is a Scientologist, though I think it is legitimate to criticize anyone who knowingly supports the unethical activities of the Church of Scientology.  Rather, my objection is to his making unfounded claims based on Scientology and Hubbard doctrines without being open about his sources.  It's a common tactic by the Church of Scientology and other cults to use front groups and try to conceal their nature until after they've persuaded someone to participate in a program--the Unification Church calls it "heavenly deception."  I've also wondered to what extent Scientology principles are used in Casey's investment advice, and whether Casey has promoted investment in Scientology-related companies, and whether there were any other Scientologists on Browne's financial committee, but I haven't seen any evidence of those things. A recent interview with Casey on his own website points out that he is something of an apologist for the Church of Scientology and Hubbard: L: It actually sparked something of a religion for a time. People were adopting Heinlein's Martian philosophy and starting "crèches" around the country. Do you know if it's true that L. Ron Hubbard, another SF author, founded the church of Scientology as a result of Heinlein betting him he couldn't do it and make it stick? Doug: There's no way to know the actual facts, of course, other than Hubbard started researching Dianetics just after World War II. But they were friends, after all, and both SF writers. The model for the character of Michael Valentine Smith was supposed to have been Hubbard – there were supposed to be a lot of similarities between the two. The religion racket can be an easy way to make a million dollars, but I don't think that was on Hubbard's mind when he founded Scientology. A surprisingly large percentage of the human potential movement was a direct result of his work. He was sincere in promoting it, notwithstanding a lot of negative PR surrounding the subject.Hubbard's sincerity may be legitimately questioned by anyone familiar with his biography.  And I'm not sure "a surprisingly large percentage of the human potential movement" being inspired by Scientology (e.g., est, Landmark Forum, Eckankar, etc.) is to its credit. Last month, the website The Daily Bell published an interview with Casey titled "Doug Casey Revisits the Greater Depression" in which Casey referred to the Roman emperor Tiberius as "a degraded being," another use of Scientology terminology.  This prompted a commenter who identified as an ex-Scientologist to ask if Casey was a Scientologist, and another commenter to point to my website on Casey.  This prompted a response from The Daily Bell: Doug Casey is the author of numerous hard-money/free-market best-sellers and has established himself as a reliable and prominent libertarian-oriented commentator over years and years. He may or may not have Scientology connections (we have no idea) but unlike DC we don't see any overt or even covert evidence of specific dogma infecting his commentary - which is concise, to-the-point and in-line with the free-market message that he's been purveying for decades. Scientology is alleged to be a "bad church." But modern Western governments inflate economies to ruination, cost tens of millions pensions and savings, freely wiretap, prosecute and imprison millions, foment endless authoritarian regulations and illogical laws, mandate poisonous vaccines, engage in punitive taxation and serial warfare, etc. ... We think we would be more concerned if Casey were an apologist for modern Western regulatory democracy rather than a courageous and principled opponent of it. We are grateful for his voice and message, especially during the 20th century when very few spoke out. Again, we have no knowledge of any affiliation of his with Scientology, but we do know what we can read on the printed page. We believe that Casey has contributed greatly to an understanding of free-markets, especially in the 20th century when he emerged courageously as a prominent spokesperson at a time when there were very others. But let us reverse the issue. What is the agenda of those who are bringing up a Scientology link? Casey doesn't mention it. His arguments are the same as they have always been - lucid, elegant and inspiring. In fact, it seems to us a despicable canard - and an obscene red-herring - to read an honest interview freely given and then drag someone's alleged religion into it. It is like questioning one's veracity simply because he or she is Jewish or Roman Catholic. Please respond to what is on the page, not to some malicious or false gossip about someone's supposed religious affiliation with a church that is alleged by some to do bad things - with many accusations coming from Western governments such as France, Germany or the United States.I've submitted the following response comment to The Daily Bell: Since I am here accused of "some malicious or false gossip about someone's supposed religious affiliation with a church that is alleged by some to do bad things" and of "a despicable canard - and an obscene red-herring" and asked "What is the agenda of those who are bringing up a Scientology link?" I would like to respond. My criticism of Casey is not for being a Scientologist, but for injecting Scientology doctrine and claims from L. Ron Hubbard into his writing without being explicit or open about it.  This criticism is neither malicious nor false, but is backed up with specific citations.  Further, the Church of Scientology is not merely "alleged by some to do bad things," it has been caught doing so, which has been repeatedly and thoroughly documented (e.g., its breaking into numerous government offices and engaging in wiretapping, its attempt to frame author Paulette Cooper for a bomb threat which led to her arrest, its illegal covert operations against the mayor of Clearwater, FL, its attempt to cover up its responsibility in the death of Lisa McPherson, its formal policy of harassment using the legal system, and on and on).  Many of the documents that expose Scientology's involvement in such activities were seized in FBI raids in the mid-1970s or have been leaked by ex-members and are available on the Internet at locations such as http://shipbrook.com/jeff/CoS/index.html, http://www.xenu.net/, and http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~dst/Secrets/index.htmlThis week will offer an opportunity for many to hear Doug Casey speak at the FreedomFest in Las Vegas, July 7-11 at Bally's/Paris.  If you have some familiarity with Scientology and the writings of L. Ron Hubbard, listen carefully, and let me know if you hear anything of interest. Einzige (2010-07-05): Your point is apparently too subtle for most people, Jim. The whole problem would go away if Casey were just up front about things - "Yes, I am a Scientologist" or "No, I am not, but they have some good things to say." Refusing to comment at all just seems odd. ...

There’s a widespread recognition that public policy should be informed by both scientifically verifiable factual information and by social values. It’s commonly assumed that science should provide the facts for policy-makers, and the policy-makers should then use those facts and social and political values of the citizens they represent to make policy. This division between fact and value is institutionalized in processes such as a division between risk assessment performed by scientists concerned solely with the facts and subsequent risk management that also involves values, performed in the sphere of politics. This neat division, however, doesn’t actually work that well in practice. “Taking European Knowledge Society Seriously,” a 2007 “Report by the Expert Group on Science and Governance to the Science, Economy and Society Directorate, Directorate-General for Research” of the European Commission, spends much of its third chapter criticizing this division and the idea that risk assessment can be performed in a value-free way. Some of the Report’s objections are similar to those made by Heather Douglas in her book Science, Policy, and the Value-Free Ideal, and her analysis of a topography of values is complementary to the Report. The selection of what counts as input into the risk assessment process, for example, is a value-laden decision that is analogous to Douglas’ discussion of problem selection. Health and safety concerns are commonly paramount, but other potential risks–to environment, to economy, to social institutions–may be minimized, dismissed, or ignored. Selection of methods of measurement also can implicitly involve values, as also is observed by Douglas. The Report notes, “health can be measured alternatively as frequency or mode of death or injury, disease morbidity, or quality of life,” and questions arise as to how to aggregate and weight different populations, compare humans to nonhumans, and future generations to present generations. In practice, scientists tend to recognize questions of these sorts, as well as that they are value-laden. This can lead to the process being bogged down by scientists wanting policy-makers to answer value questions before they perform their risk assessment, while policy-makers insist that they just want the scientific facts of the matter before making any value-based decisions. Because science is a powerful justification for policy, it’s in the interest of the policy-maker to push as much as possible to the science side of the equation. We see this occur in Congress, which tends to pass broad-brush statutes which “do something” about a problem but push all the details to regulatory agencies, so that Congress can take credit for action but blame the regulatory agencies if it doesn’t work as expected. We see it in judicial decisions, where the courts tend to be extremely deferential to science. And we see it within regulatory agencies themselves, as when EPA Administrator Carol Browner went from saying first that “The question is not one of science, the question is one of judgment” (Dec. 1996, upon initially proposing ozone standards) to “I think it is not a question of judgment, I think it is a question of science” (March 1997, about those same standards). The former position is subject to challenge in ways that the latter is not. In reality, any thorough system of risk management needs to be iterative and involve both scientific judgments about facts and political decisions that take into account values, taking care not to use values in a way to achieve predetermined conclusions, but to recognize what sets of interests and concerns are of significance. This doesn’t preclude the standardization of methods of quantification and assessment, it just means that they need to be able to evolve in response to feedback, as well as to begin from a state where values are explicitly used in identifying what facts need to be assessed. [A slightly different version of the above was written as a comment for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. Thanks to Tim K. for his comments.] ...

Science fiction has been a popular genre at least since Jules Verne’s 19th century work, and arguably longer still. But can it have practical value as well as be a form of escapist entertainment? Clark Miller and Ira Bennett of ASU suggest that it has potential for use in improving the capacity of the general public “to imagine and reason critically about technological futures” and for being integrated into technology assessment processes (“Thinking longer term about technology: is there value in science fiction-inspired approaches to constructing futures?" Science and Public Policy 35(8), October 2008, pp. 597-606). Miller and Bennett argue that science fiction can provide a way to stimulate people to wake from “technological somnambulism” (Langdon Winner’s term for taking for granted or being oblivious to sociotechnical changes), in order to recognize such changes, realize that there may be alternative possibilities and that particular changes need not be determined, and to engage with deliberative processes and institutions that choose directions of change. Where most political planning is short-term and based on projections that simply extend current trends incrementally into the future, science fiction provides scenarios which exhibit “non-linearity” by involving multiple, major, and complex changes from current reality. While these scenarios “likely provide…little technical accuracy” about how technology and society will actually interact, they may still provide ideas about alternative possibilities, and in particular to provide “clear visions of desirable–and not so desirable–futures.” The article begins with a quote from Christine Peterson of the Foresight Institute recommending that “hard science fiction” be used to aid in “long-term” (20+ year) prediction scenarios; she advises, “Don’t think of it as literature,” and focus on the technologies rather than the people. Miller and Bennett, however, argue otherwise–that not only is science fiction useful for thinking about longer-term consequences, but that the parts about the people–how technologies actually fit into society–are just as, if not more important than the ideas about the technologies themselves. It ends with some examples of use of science fiction in workshops for nanotechnology researchers which have been conducted by Bennett and suggested uses in science education and in “society’s practices and institutions for public engagement and technology assessment.” About the former suggested use, the authors write that “The National Science Foundation, which has by and large not been in the business of supporting science fiction, might be encouraged to fund training and/or networking exercises that would foster greater interaction among scientists and fiction writers.” While some steps have been taken to promote interaction between scientists and fiction writers–most notably the National Academy of Sciences’ Science and Entertainment Exchange project headed by executive director Jennifer Ouellette who spoke at last year’s The Amazing Meeting 7–this interaction is mostly one-way. The project is conceived of as a way for science to be accurately communicated to the general public through entertainment, rather than facilitating the generation of ideas for technological innovation and scientific development from the general public or the entertainment stories that are created. The SEE promotes the idea of collaboration between scientists and entertainment producers on the creative works of entertainment, but not necessarily directing creative feedback into science or building new capacities in science and technology, except indirectly by providing the general public with inspiration about science. Similarly, the Skeptrack and Science Track at the annual Dragon*Con science fiction convention in Atlanta provide ways for scientists and skeptics to interact with science fiction fans (and creators of science fiction works), but the communication is primarily in one direction via speakers and panels, with an opportunity for Q&A. (Unlike the notion of a SkeptiCamp, where all participants are potentially on an equal basis, with everyone given the opportunity to be a presenter.) [P.S. The Long Now Foundation is an organization that makes the Foresight Institute’s time horizon look short–their time frame is the next 10,000 years, with a focus on how to make extremely long-term projects work and how to create an institutional framework that can persist for extremely long periods of time. (The obligatory science fiction references are Walter M. Miller, Jr.’s A Canticle for Leibowitz and Neal Stephenson’s Anathem.)] [A slightly different version of the above was written for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. Thanks to Judd A. for his comments–he raised the concern that SkeptiCamp is connected to a rationalist form of skepticism that is concerned to “narrow the range of ‘acceptable’ beliefs” rather than widen it. While this may be true, depending on what the class of “acceptable” beliefs is prior to applying a skeptical filter, it need not be–applying scientific methodology and critical thinking can also open up possibilities for individuals. And if the initial set of beliefs includes all possibilities, converting that set to knowledge must necessarily involve narrowing rather than expanding the range, as there are many more ways to go wrong than to go right. But this criticism points out something that I’ve observed in my comparison of skepticism to Forteanism–skepticism is more concerned about avoiding Type I errors than Type II errors, while Forteans are more concerned about avoiding Type II errors than Type I errors, and these are complementary positions that both need representation in society.] ...

James Scott’s Seeing Like a State (about which I’ve blogged previously) talks about how the state imposes standards in order to make features legible, countable, regulatable, and taxable. J. Stephen Lansing’s Perfect Order: Recognizing Complexity in Bali describes a case where the reverse happened. When Bali tried to impose a top-down system of scientifically designed order–a system of water management–on Balinese rice farmers, in the name of modernization in the early 1970s, the result was a brief increase in productivity followed by disaster. Rather than lead to more efficient use of water and continued improved crop yields, it produced pest outbreaks which destroyed crops. An investment of $55 million in Romijn gates to control water flow in irrigation canals had the opposite of the intended effect. Farmers removed the gates or lifted them out of the water and left them to rust, upsetting the consultants and officials behind the project. Pesticides delivered to farmers resulted in brown leafhoppers becoming resistant to pesticides, and supplied fertilizers washed into the rivers and killed coral reefs at the mouths of the rivers. Lansing was part of a team sponsored by the National Science Foundation in 1983 that evaluated the Balinese farmers’ traditional water management system to understand how it worked. The farmers of each village belong to subaks, or organizations that manage rice terraces and irrigation systems, which are referred to in Balinese writings going back at least a thousand years. Lansing notes that “Between them, the village and subak assemblies govern most aspects of a farmer’s social, economic, and spiritual life.” Lansing’s team found that the Balinese system of water temples, religious ritual, and irrigation managed by the subaks would synchronize fallow periods of contiguous segments of terraces, so that long segments could be kept flooded after harvest, killing pests by depriving them of habitat. But their attempt and that of the farmers to persuade the government to allow the traditional system to continue fell upon deaf ears, and the modernization scheme continued to be pushed. In 1987, Lansing worked with James Kremer to develop a computer model of the Balinese water temple system, and ran a simulation using historical rainfall data. This translation of the traditional system into scientific explanation showed that the traditional system was more effective than the modernized system, and government officials were persuaded to allow and encourage a return to the traditional system. The Balinese system of farming is an example of how local knowledge can develop and become embedded in a “premodern” society by mechanisms other than conscious and intentional scientific investigation (in this case, probably more like a form of evolution), and be invisible to the state until it is specifically studied. It’s also a case where the religious aspects of the traditional system may have contributed to its dismissal by the modern experts. What I find of particular interest here is to what extent the local knowledge was simply embedded into the practices, and not known by any of the participants–were they just doing what they’ve “always” done (with practices that have evolved over the last 1,000 years), in a circumstance where the system as a whole “knows,” but no individual had an understanding until Lansing and Kremer built and tested a model of what they were doing? [A slightly different version of the above was written for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. Thanks to Brenda T. for her comments. More on Lansing’s work in Bali may be found online here.] ...

Studies of the public understanding of science generally produce results that show a disturbingly high level of ignorance. When asked to agree or disagree with the statement that “ordinary tomatoes do not contain genes, while genetically modified tomatoes do,” only 36% of Europeans answered correctly in 2002 (and only 35% in 1999 and 1996, Eurobarometer Biotechnology Quiz). Those in the U.S. did better with this question, with 45% getting it right; Canada and the Netherlands got the highest level of correct answers (52% and 51%, respectively). Tests of similar statements, such as “Electrons are smaller than atoms,” “The earliest human beings lived at the same time as the dinosaurs,” and “How long does it take the Earth to go around the Sun: one day, one month, or one year,” all yield similarly low levels of correct responses. Public understanding of science research shows individuals surveyed to be remarkably ignorant of particular facts about science, but is that the right measure of how science is understood and used by the public at large? Such surveys ask about disconnected facts independent from a context in which they might be used, and measure only an individual’s personal knowledge. If, instead, those surveyed were asked who among their friends would they rely upon to obtain the answer to such a question, or how would they go about finding a reliable answer to the question, the results might prove to be quite different. Context can be quite important. In the Wason selection task, individuals are shown four cards labeled, respectively, “E”, “K,” “4,” and “7,” and are asked which cards they would need to turn over in order to test the rule, “If a card has a vowel on one side, then it has an even number on the other side.” Test subjects do very well at recognizing that the “E” card needs to be turned over (corresponding to the logical rule of modus ponens), but very poorly at recognizing that the “7,” rather than the “4,” needs to be turned over to find out if the rule holds (i.e., they engage in the fallacy of affirming the consequent rather than use the logical rule of modus tollens). But if, instead of letters and numbers, a scenario with more context is constructed, subjects perform much more reliably. In one variant, subjects were told to imagine that they are post office workers sorting letters, and looking to find those which do not comply with a regulation that requires an additional 10 lire of postage on sealed envelopes. They are then presented with four envelopes (two face down, one opened and one sealed, and two face up, one with a 50-lire stamp and one with a 40-lire stamp) and asked to test the rule “If a letter is sealed, then it has a 50-lire stamp on it.” Subjects then recognize that they need to turn over the sealed face-down envelope and the 40-lire stamped envelope, despite its logical equivalent to the original selection task that they perform poorly on. Sheila Jasanoff, in Designs on Nature, argues that measures of the public understanding of science are not particularly relevant to how democracies actually use science. Instead, she devotes chapter 10 of her book to an alternative approach, “civic epistemology,” which is a qualitative framework for understanding the methods and practices of a community’s generation and use of knowledge. She offers six dimensions of civic epistemologies: ...

Chapter 3 of Langdon Winner’s The Whale and the Reactor (1988) is titled “Techné and Politeia,” a discussion of the relationship of technology and politics that draws upon Plato, Rousseau, and Thomas Jefferson to recount historical views before turning to the “modern technical constitution.” The contemporary “interconnected systems of manufacturing, communications, transportation” and so forth that have arisen have a set of five features that Winner says “embody answers to age-old political questions … about membership, power, authority, order, freedom, and justice” (p. 47). The five features are (pp. 47-48): ...

The popular view of the “science wars” of the 1990s is that it involved scientists and philosophers criticizing social scientists for making and accepting absurd claims as a result of an extreme relativistic view about scientific knowledge. Such absurd claims included claims like “the natural world in no way constrains what is believed to be,” “the natural world has a small or nonexistent role in the construction of scientific knowledge,” and “the natural world must be treated as though it did not affect our perception of it” (all due to Harry Collins, quoted in Yves Gingras’ scathingly critical review of his book (PDF), Gravity’s Shadow: The Search for Gravitational Waves). Another example was Bruno Latour’s claim that it was impossible for Ramses II to have died of tuberculosis because the tuberculosis bacillus was not discovered until 1882. This critical popular view is right as far as it goes–those claims are absurd–but the popular view of science also tends toward an overly rationalistic and naively realistic conception of scientific knowledge that fails to account for social factors that influence science as actually practiced by scientists and scientific institutions. The natural world and our social context both play a role in the production of scientific knowledge. Mark B. Brown’s Science in Democracy: Expertise, Institutions, and Representation tries to steer a middle course between extremes, but periodically veers too far in the relativist direction. Early on, in a brief discussion of the idea of scientific representations corresponding to reality, he writes (p. 6): “Emphasizing the practical dimensions of science need not impugn the truth of scientific representations, as critics of science studies often assume …” But he almost immediately seems to retract this when he writes that “science is not a mirror of nature” (p. 7) and, in one of several unreferenced and unargued-for claims appealing to science studies that occur in the book, that “constructivist science studies does undermine the standard image of science as an objective mirror of nature” (p. 16). Perhaps he merely means that scientific representations are imperfect and fallible, for he does periodically make further attempts to steer a middle course, such as when he quotes Latour: “Either they went on being relativists even about the settled parts of science–which made them look ridiculous; or they continued being realists even about the warm uncertain parts–and they made fools of themselves” (p. 183). It’s surely reasonable to take an instrumentalist approach to scientific theories that aren’t well established, are somewhat isolated from the rest of our knowledge, or are highly theoretical, but also to take a realist approach to theories that are well established with evidence from multiple domains and have remained stable while being regularly put to the test. The evidence that we have today for a heliocentric solar system, for common ancestry of species, and for the position and basic functions of organs in the human body is of such strength that it is unlikely that we will see that knowledge completely overthrown in a future scientific revolution. But Brown favorably quotes Latour: “Even the shape of humans, our very body, is composed to a great extent of sociotechnical negotiations and artifacts.” (p. 171) Our bodies are not “composed” of “sociotechnical negotiations and artifacts”–this is either a mistaken use of the word “composed” (instead of perhaps “the consequence of”) or a use-mention error (referring to “our very body” instead of our idea of our body). In Ch. 6, in a section titled “Realism and Relativism” that begins with a reference to the “science wars,” he follows the pragmatist philosopher John Dewey in order to “help resolve some of the misunderstandings and disagreements among today’s science warriors” such as that “STS scholars seem to endorse a radical form of relativism, according to which scientific accounts of reality are no more true than those of witchcraft, astrology, or common sense” (p. 156). Given that Brown has already followed Dewey’s understanding of scientific practice as continuous with common sense (pp.151-152), it’s somewhat odd to see it listed with witchcraft and astrology in that list–though perhaps in this context it’s not meant as the sort of critical common sense Dewey described, but more like folk theories that are undermined or refuted by science. Brown seems to endorse Dewey’s view that “reality is the world encountered through successful intervention” and favorably quotes philosopher Ian Hacking that “We shall count as real what we can use to intervene in the world to affect something else, or what the world can use to affect us” (pp. 156-157), but he subsequently drops the second half of Hacking’s statement when he writes “If science is understood in terms of the capacity to direct change, knowing cannot be conceived on the model of observation.” Such an understanding may capture experimental sciences, but not observational or historical sciences, an objection Brown attributes to Bertrand Russell, who “pointed out in his review of Dewey’s Logic that knowledge of a star could not be said to affect the star” (p. 158). Brown, however, follows Latour and maintains that “the work of representation … always transforms what it represents” (p. 177). Brown defends this by engaging in a use-mention error, the failure to properly distinguish between the use of an expression and talking about the expression, when he writes that stars as objects of knowledge are newly created objects (p. 158, more below). Such an error is extremely easy to make when talking about social facts, where representations are themselves partly constitutive of the facts, such as in talk about knowledge or language. Brown writes that “People today experience the star as known, differently than before … The star as an object of knowledge is thus indeed a new object” (p. 158). But this is unnecessary given the second half of Hacking’s statement, since we can observe and measure stars–they have impact upon us. Brown does then talk about impact on us, but only by the representation, not the represented: “…this new object causes existential changes in the knower. With the advent of the star as a known object, people actually experience it differently. This knowledge should supplement and not displace whatever aesthetic or religious experiences people continue to have of the star, thus making their experiences richer and more fulfilling” (p. 158). There may certainly be augmented experience with additional knowledge, which may not change the perceptual component of the experience, but I wonder what the Brown’s basis is for the normative claim that religious experiences in particular shouldn’t be displaced–if those religious experiences are based on claims that have been falsified, such as an Aristotelian conception of the universe, then why shouldn’t they be displaced? But perhaps here I’m making the use-mention error, and Brown doesn’t mean that religious interpretations shouldn’t be displaced, only experiences that are labeled as “religious” shouldn’t be displaced. A few other quibbles: Brown writes that “all thought relies on language” (p. 56). If this is the case, then nonhuman animals that have no language cannot have thoughts. (My commenter suggested that all sentient beings have language, and even included plants in that category. I think the proposal that sentience requires language is at least plausible, though I wouldn’t put many nonhuman animals or any plants into that category–perhaps chimps, whales, and dolphins. Some sorts of “language” extend beyond that category, such as the dance of honeybees that seems to code distance and direction information, but I interpreted Brown’s claim to refer to human language with syntax, semantics, generative capacity, etc., and to mean that one can’t have non-linguistic thoughts in the form of, say, pictorial imagery, without language. I.e., that even such thoughts require a “language of thought,” to use Jerry Fodor’s expression.) Brown endorses Harry Collins’ idea of the “experimenter’s regress,” without noting that his evidence for the existence of such a phenomenon is disputed (Allan Franklin, “How to Avoid the Experimenters’ Regress,” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 25(3, 1994): 463-491). (Franklin also discusses this in the entry on “Experiment in Physics” at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.) Brown contrasts Harry Collins and Robert Evans with Hobbes on the nature of expertise: The former see “expertise as a ‘real and substantive’ attribute of individuals” while “For Hobbes, in contrast, what matters is whether the claims of reason are accepted by the relevant audience.” (p. 116). Brown sides with Hobbes, but this is to make a similar mistake to that Richard Rorty made when claiming that truth is what you can get away with, which is false by its own definition–since philosophers didn’t let him get away with it. This definition doesn’t allow for the existence of a successful fake expert or con artist, but we know that such persons exist from examples that have been exposed. Under this definition, such persons were experts until they were unmasked. Brown’s application of Hobbes’ views on political representation to nature is less problematic when he discusses the political representation of environmental interests (pp. 128-131) than when he discusses scientific representations of nature (pp. 131-132). The whole discussion might have been clearer had it taken account of John Searle’s account of social facts (in The Construction of Social Reality). Brown writes that “Just as recent work in science studies has shown that science is not made scientifically …” (p. 140), without argument or reference. He apparently endorses a version of Dewey’s distinction between public and private actions with private being “those interactions that do not affect anyone beyond those engaged in the interaction; interactions that have consequences beyond those so engaged he calls public” (p. 141). This distinction is probably not tenable since the indirect consequences of even actions that we’d consider private can ultimately affect others, such as a decision to have or not to have children. On p. 159, Brown attributes the origin of the concept of evolution to “theories of culture, such as those of Vico and Comte” rather than Darwin, but neither of them had theories of evolution by natural selection comparable to Darwin’s innovation; concepts of evolutionary change go back at least to the pre-Socratic philosophers like the Epicureans and Stoics. (Darwin didn’t invent natural selection, either, but he was the first to put all the pieces together and recognize that evolution by natural selection could serve a productive as well as a conservative role.) [A slightly different version of the above was written as a comment for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. Thanks to Brenda T. for her comments. It should be noted that the above really doesn’t address the main arguments of the book, which are about the meaning of political representation and representation in science, and an argument about proper democratic representation in science policy.]

There have long been worries that the mass media are producing a “dumbing down” of American political culture, reducing political understanding to sound bites and spin. The Internet has been blamed for information overload, and, like MTV in prior decades, for a reduction in attention span as the text-based web became the multimedia web, and cell phones have become a more common tool for its use. Similar worries have been expressed about public understanding of science. Nicholas Carr has asked the question, “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” Yaron Ezrahi’s “Science and the political imagination in contemporary democracies” (a chapter in Sheila Jasanoff’s States of Knowledge: The Co-Production of Science and Social Order) argues that the post-Enlightenment synthesis of scientific knowledge and politics in democratic societies is in decline, on the basis of a transition of public discourse into easily consumed, bite-sized chunks of vividly depicted information that he calls “outformation.” Where, prior to the Enlightenment, authority had more of a religious basis and the ideal for knowledge was “wisdom”–which Ezrahi sees as a mix of the “cognitive, moral, social, philosophical, and practical” which is privileged, unteachable, and a matter of faith, the Enlightenment brought systematized, scientific knowledge to the fore. Such knowledge was formalized, objective, universal, impersonal, and teachable–with effort. When that scientific knowledge is made more widely usable, “stripped of its theoretical, formal, logical and mathematical layers” into a “think knowledge” that is context-dependent and localized, it becomes “information.” And finally, when information is further stripped of its context and design for use for a particular purpose, yet augmented with “rich and frequently intense” representations that include “cognitive, emotional, aesthetic, and other dimensions of experience,” it becomes “outformation.” According to Ezrahi, such “outformations” mix references to objective and subjective reality, and they become “shared references in the context of public discourse and action.” They are taken to be legitimated and authoritative despite lacking any necessary grounding in “observations, experiments, and logic.” He describes this shift as a shift from a high-cost political reality to a low-cost political reality, where “cost” is a measure of the recipient’s ability to consume it rather than the consequences to the polity of its consumption and use as the basis for political participation. This shift, he says, “reflects the diminished propensity of contemporary publics to invest personal or group resources in understanding and shaping politics and the management of public affairs.” But, I wonder, is this another case of reflecting on “good old days” that never existed? While new media have made new forms of communication possible, was there really a time when the general public was fully invested in “understanding and shaping politics” and not responding to simplifications and slogans? And is it really the case, as Ezrahi argues, that while information can be processed and reconstructed into knowledge, the same is not possible for outformations? Some of us do still read books, and for us, Google may not be “making us stupid,” but rather providing a supplement that allows us to quickly search a vast web of interconnected bits of information that can be assembled into knowledge, inspired by a piece of “outformation.” [A slightly different version of the above was written as a comment on Ezrahi’s article for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. Although I wrote about new media, it is apparent that Ezrahi was writing primarily about television and radio, where “outformation” seems to be more prevalent than information. Thanks to Judd A. for his comments on the above.] UPDATE (April 19, 2010): Part of the above is translated into Italian, with commentary from Ugo Bardi of the University of Florence, at his blog. ...

Land reforms instituted in Vietnam under French rule, in India under the British, and in rural czarist Russia introduced simplified rights of ownership and standardized measurements of size and shape that were primarily for the benefit of the state, e.g., for tax purposes. James C. Scott’s Seeing as a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed gives these and numerous other examples of ways in which standardization and simplification have been used by the state to make legible and control resources (and people) within its borders. He recounts cases of how the imposition of such standardization often fails or at least has unintended negative consequences, such as his example of German scientific forestry’s introduction of a monoculture of Norway spruce or Scotch pine designed to maximize lumber production, but which led to die-offs a century later. (The monoculture problem of reduced resilience/increased vulnerability is one which has been recognized in an information security context, as well, e.g., in Dan Geer et al.’s paper on Microsoft monoculture that got him fired from @stake and his more recent work.) Scott’s examples of state-imposed uniformity should not, however, be misconstrued to infer that any case of uniformity is state-imposed, or that such regularities, even if state-imposed, don’t have underlying natural constraints. Formalized institutions of property registration and title have appeared in the crevices between states, for example in the squatter community of Kowloon Walled City that existed from 1947-1993 on a piece of the Kowloon peninsula that was claimed by both China and Britain, yet governed by neither. While the institutions of Kowloon Walled City may have been patterned after those familiar to its residents from the outside world, they were internally imposed rather than by a state. Patterns of highway network design present another apparent counterexample. Scott discusses the design of highways around Paris as being designed by the state to intentionally route traffic through Paris, as well as to allow for military and law enforcement activity within the city in order to put down insurrections. But motorway patterns in the UK appear to have a more organic structure, as a recent experiment with slime molds oddly confirmed. Two researchers at the University of West of England constructed a map of the UK out of agar, putting clumps of oat flakes at the locations of the nine most populous cities. They then introduced a slime mold colony to the mix, and in many cases it extruded tendrils to feed on the oat flakes creating patterns which aligned with the existing motorway design, with some variations. A similar experiment with a map of cities around Tokyo duplicated the Tokyo railway network, slime-mold style. The similarity between transportation networks and evolved biological systems for transporting blood and sap may simply be because they are efficient and resilient solutions. These examples, while not refuting Scott’s point about frequent failures in top-down imposition of order, suggest that it may be possible for states to achieve success in certain projects by facilitating bottom-up development of ordered structures. The state often imposes an order that has already been developed via some other means–e.g., electrical standards were set up by industry bodies before being codified, IETF standards for IP which don’t have the force of law yet are globally implemented. In other cases, states may ratify an emerging order by, e.g., preempting a diversity of state rules with a set that have been demonstrated to be successful, though that runs the risk of turning into a case like Scott describes, if there are local reasons for the diversity. [A slightly different version of the above was written as a comment on the first two chapters of Scott’s book for my Human and Social Dimensions of Science and Technology core seminar. I’ve ordered a copy of the book since I found the first two chapters to be both lucidly written and extremely interesting. Thanks to Gretchen G. for her comments that I’ve used to improve (I hope) the above.] UPDATE (April 25, 2010): Nature 407:470 features “Intelligence: Maze-solving by an amoeboid organism.” ...