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Argumentation Politics Short Essays Writings

The Authoritarian Mirage

Oh no! The Atlantic has revealed there are undiscovered authoritarians on the left! Hide the children!

I read bad studies all the time, but this one is particularly bad. Witness:

Costello and his colleagues started fresh. They developed what eventually became a list of 39 statements capturing sentiments such as “We need to replace the established order by any means necessary” and “I should have the right not to be exposed to offensive views.” Subjects were asked to score the statements on a scale of 1 to 7. They showed a trait that the researchers described as “anti-hierarchical aggression” by agreeing strongly that “If I could remake society, I would put people who currently have the most privilege at the bottom.” By agreeing with statements such as “Getting rid of inequality is more important than protecting the so-called ‘right’ to free speech,” they showed an attitude called “top-down censorship.” And they showed what the research team called “anti-conventionalism” by endorsing statements such as “I cannot imagine myself becoming friends with a political conservative.”

Let’s go slowly here. Packing this much nonsense into a single paragraph requires the argumentative equivalent of swamp waders.

So. If I “agree strongly” with “If I could remake society, I would put people who currently have the most privilege at the bottom,” am I “authoritarian”? Well, that would depend on a few assumptions:

  1. Is the opposite response on this scale, the “disagree strongly,” considered to be an expression of declining to remake society at all, or is it an expression of keeping people with the “most privilege” exactly where they are? Yes, those are two very different decisions, even though in certain interpretations they might lead to a similar result.   
  2. But on a related note, is the middle of the 7-point scale here an expression of moving some people with “moderate privilege” to the bottom? Or to the top? Or is that a neutral “take no action” position, and the “disagree strongly” is to make the least privileged even less so? Hard to say, and again, too open to interpretation to garner a useful response. Are the respondents actually reading the question this closely?
  3. Likewise, would the respondents have picked “agree strongly” to the question “I would destroy the freedom of speech if I could get rid of inequality”? Put that way…
  4. If I “agree strongly,” does that mean I am serious enough to enact the said policy for “reals” in the zero chance that I would ever have the power to “remake society”?

Note that after point 4, if this was Law & Order, this is where I would add, “Withdrawn, nothing further.”

So it seems any response to this question could be considered “authoritarian.” Strip privilege away from the powerful and you’re “authoritarian.” Decline to change society, and you’ve reinforced the current hierarchy – but what could be more “authoritarian” than supporting a preexisting hierarchy? Split the difference and you’re both supporting a hierarchy and undercutting it by doing nothing…. it’s almost as if we’ve got a socioeconomic Catch-22 here that reflects a sharp critique of capitalism… good job, AEI! I think y’all might be actually “leftist” and not know it. Perhaps I should set up a study to show that there are secret Marxists in the right. The standards for method are pretty loose these days…

You are also “authoritarian” and a supporter of “top-down censorship” if you “agree strongly” with “Getting rid of inequality is more important than protecting the so-called ‘right’ to free speech.” But this question only asks the respondent rank two values, not toss out the other. A belief that getting rid of inequality is not inherently “authoritarian” – in fact, I don’t think a single human being alive that is really concerned about inequality would also throw out free speech with the bathwater, as it’s kinda necessary to address inequality. Anyone can believe in both. But even with a Likert scale, the 4 is not a clear expression of a balanced position. Each point of the scale would need to be carefully teased out in a nuanced description, as in a pinch, I might have clicked “agree strongly” myself when my actual position is in the middle. This question, like many on these kinds of silly tests, pretends to address ethical dilemmas where values must be balanced against each other by pushing the respondents (who probably do not have a doctoral degree in political science) to take an extreme position that they may not actually have or ever act upon if they even did. Questions that pit free speech and equality against each other cannot be reduced to a linear scale. This isn’t a new problem with Likert, of course.

Finally, it’s “anti-conventionalism” to “agree strongly” with “I cannot imagine myself becoming friends with a political conservative.” So unless you can imagine yourself friends with a political conservative, you’re an authoritarian? I wonder how that would make for an icebreaker. “Be friends with me, or you’re an authoritarian!”

But there are two more serious problems with these results than the loaded questions. Those are just symptoms.

One, the responses are self-reported and completely untrustworthy. Someone who chooses “agree strongly” on all three questions is quite likely to violate their positions within the day, because there are no consequences for doing so, and no reward for being consistent.

The second is the most obvious problem – the author is an American Enterprise Institute affiliate, and the study, by virtue of its loaded questions and goofy analysis, is just attempting to smear some of the accumulated fascist mud off of conservative thought onto the nebulous left, as any “left” position can now be automagically rendered “authoritarian.” Cue the Onion: “Rotten Apples In Every Bunch, Claims Horde of Shambling Apples, All Rotten.”

If anything goes, by questioning the method of the study, I am clearly “authoritarian.” I find this unlikely, though, as I already spend too much effort making the trains run on time in Italy to be railroaded into a specific political station in life.

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Argumentation Politics Short Essays Uncategorized

Revisiting The Rhetoric of Moderation

Back in 2014, I co-wrote an article, “The Rhetoric of Moderation in Deliberative Discourse: Barack Obama’s December 1, 2009 speech at West Point,” that proved difficult to place in a journal. My co-author thought it was because we were mildly critical of Obama and all our peer reviewers were leftists; I thought, rather, it was because our fine distinctions of what constituted claims and evidence in argumentation were deemed unimportant. I leave to the reader who was correct. Perhaps both.

Regardless, I think that article has held up rather well. I say this having now read the corresponding sections of Obama’s half-autobiography, A Promised Land, where he gives a fuller account of the deliberations that led up to that speech in two relevant passages: 431-439 and 442-445, as well as a later account of the Rolling Stone episode that prompted him to fire Stanley McChrystal on 577-580. These offer more evidence for our argument.

To summarize the original article, we held that Obama’s speech was a prime example of a “rhetoric of moderation,” where achieving a “middle” position and demonstrating extensive deliberation and weighing of options becomes a circular justification for that “middle” position, eliminating any need for evidence to support the position. The West Point speech appears on face value to be explaining why Obama has decided to send more troops to Afghanistan, but he never states a concrete reason for the specific number of troops. We compared Obama’s speech to LBJ’s 1968 Vietnam speech, noting that LBJ did provide a reason in his, namely that Westmoreland had indicated 100,000 troops were necessary, and we suggested that Obama did not refer to military authority as his relationship with the Pentagon was strained, and the actual troop number was far more arbitrary that Obama was willing to admit.

Before I get into the book, however, I should note something about post-presidential Obama. That he is verbose is obvious, I think, as well as the shoring up of old decisions, but what strikes me most about his style is how guarded he remains, even in 2020. Yes, his humor is showing more now – his disdain for McConnell in particular – and he does at times speak frankly about what he was feeling at moments.

But he is also still holding back a considerable amount of emotion, and not in a convincing way, any more than he was in 2008. Obama is simply unwilling, I think, to admit that some of his decisions have not been perfectly rational. Over and over in the book, all his decisions that he discusses are described as based on rigorous deliberation and careful impartiality and a seemingly 147-point ethical rubric, as if someone is going to accuse him of being human and he wants to get that notion out of the way quickly. I am not alone in such a critique, of course. Obama’s tendency toward restraint is established. He is reportedly a tight poker player, giving away as little information as possible and betting rarely, and an autobiography and his legacy is yet another game, I suppose.

In any case, Obama’s insider account confirms that the number of troops was both an operational and political compromise, where he favored a variant of a smaller plan backed by Robert Gates over a larger request by McChrystal, with Biden serving as a foil against a mission-oriented Pentagon at odds with Obama’s forest-over-trees worldview. These plans are tellingly not discussed separately from the men that championed them, and yet the rhetoric of moderation is everywhere. In the end, Obama mentions only the ceremonial occasion of the speech, not its moderating content that leaves little trace of the deliberation or power struggle, only a fait accompli. The external accounting is only a performance of nonexistent proof.

In a dictatorship, it is of course anathema for the dictator to admit other courses of action might also be justified, that there were doubts, that there are still doubts, that the people involved in constructing the decision have conflicting emotions and are not sure they made the right call. All those admissions undercut the notion of a fearless leader who decides. The ranks must be closed, even if the artificial nature of the entire enterprise can be pried apart from its protective rhetorical shell to find the softer, gushier innards of the decision-making process within. Like anyone thought it was anything else, dictatorship or democratic republic. In an autocratic state, I understand the purpose of the facade. Putin is great at it. But in America, what purpose does all this rigid posturing serve if it is regularly picked to shreds before the news cycle starts anew?

Obama still seems convinced he made the right call. But events have proved otherwise. Afghanistan remained a quagmire twelve years later, and now the man who played foil to the Pentagon then is now President and has taken the opposite view, announcing a full withdrawal. Time will tell if it sticks. But Obama’s unwillingness to show how the sausage was made at the time and his attempt to obscure the process undercut any notion of transparent deliberation. It is one thing to announce a troop increase and not provide any justification, it is another thing to announce a troop increase and provide considerable justification, but he did neither – he announced a troop increase, said he would justify it, and filled the gap with a rhetorical maneuver because he could not say then what he says implicitly now – that the decision was both logistically and politically expedient.

I suppose such a rhetoric keeps journalists and critics like myself employed, but why not skip to the end? Why wait 11 years to note that the sausage was, indeed, sausage? Is it only because we prefer to chomp down on our McNuggets without thinking about the mechanical chicken separator?

But before you, gentle reader, think I came to bury Obama, the later-yet-related firing of Stanley McChrystal, described on pages 577-580, was more justified. Obama notes McChrystal was an effective leader that he liked, but the stakes for undercutting the civilian control of the military were too high to let the insubordination he’d allowed his staff to commit pass. McChrystal made the decision easier by offering his resignation, of course.

This is not the only such incident in the book. Obama seems to have faced an unusual amount of pushback to his C-in-C role. His relative youth, lack of military experience, and his race are the obvious culprits. The question remains, then, how much of the Afghanistan troop decision was Obama pushing back against the passive undercutting of his constitutional authority, making sure that his moderate deliberation was his, not the Pentagon’s. Another open question for a future biographer and historian.

My cautionary note would be that it is the interaction between Obama, his staff, the Pentagon and the various generals, the actual “facts on the ground,” and the political situation that produced the rhetoric. It is never just about the lone rhetor who cuts through the malarkey to lead. Presidents are tempting targets for rhetorical criticism as they both have a lot of practical power and they are believed to have more power than they technically and legally have (the bully pulpit concept), but they have also considerable restraints that aren’t always appreciated. The West Point speech is prima facie evidence of this duality.

Categories
Politics Short Essays TV and Film Writings

The Knights of Gamestop

Seems all I do now is write about coup attempts.

The last one was pitiful. The most recent one, however, is not.

Storming the gates of Congress doesn’t seem to have made a fraction of the impact of a much larger horde of barbarian traders outmaneuvering hedge fund managers. No action scenes from the Capitol, just pasty folks swiping smartphones, but all the classic takeovers were accomplished with coordinated bureaucrats, so it’s fitting.

The company, however, is not. Gamespot is an antiquated storefront that has no realistic value in 2021, or even early 2020, the last time when a responsible adult could walk into one without a face mask. Not that there was any reason to do so. Everything they sell can be gotten far easier and cheapest online, and most of the console gamers have moved online as well thanks to applications in their consoles. Their PC presence is long dead, too, thanks to Steam. Unlike board gaming, which actually has a sustainable niche model for a storefront, Gamespot has no more future than the 1995 Blockbuster store that Carol Danvers crashed into early in Captain Marvel. The name has nostalgia value, sure, but not at $300 a share.

But hey. I am all for a legal redistribution of funds from the rich to the poor. This suggests a glaring logical discrepancy, then, in the name of the company Robinhood, whose app had a hand in making the short squeeze happen. The mechanics of their suspension of trading seem to have more to do with a glaring lack of financial preparation for a run on a single stock than the guts to empower their user base, but that reputation hit was a doozy. Errol Flynn to Eric Idle in one press release. It’s hard to recover an edgy stance after having gallantly chickened out.

There are bigger coups out there, of course. Brave Sir Robin is only one of the many technological knights pursuing the Holy Grail of transforming all humans into electrical conduits for profit. Facebook and Twitter, having reduced Donald Trump to a limbless social media torso that cannot acknowledge its electoral defeat, are marching on, regardless of what progressive Europeans think of their elderberry-smelling policies. The would-be autonomous collectives currently propping up Gamestop are just peasants mucking about in the mud and dung. Arthur has his eyes on the prize; Lancelot, more on ancillary carnage. C’mon, map them to who you wish; it’s pretty easy.

Needless to say, the end of that film is its most fantastic and unrealistic element. Having summoned a ragged army from nowhere, the shit-covered Arthur announces a frontal assault on a castle in a bog without a single piece of siege equipment handy. Cue the constables, who quickly round him and the knights up, hustled possibly to asylum care.

Does anyone seriously think the boldest and most dogged antitrust lawsuits could accomplish this with Facebook or Twitter or Amazon? In our world, the castle has long fallen. We are not even the French guys on the battlements, clucking disapprovingly and launching a cow or two without much enthusiasm.

No. We’re the peasants in the muck, ineffectually whining about the arbitrary nature of authority. Meanwhile, well-organized corporations took what they wanted, mostly because we gave it to them freely, accepting the growing tech feudalism with more enthusiasm than any historical serf. Broadband internet, a LCD TV, a smartphone and a game console, and you can take whatever you want from us.

Still, the film and legends do have one thing in common. The quest is a pointless one that leads only to tragedy and farce. Seeking immortality or a technological singularity helps no one. Even Indiana Jones figured it out in The Last Crusade, choosing family over glory.

I wonder if the knights of Gamespot will figure it out, too, or they will be like the fools of the Jan. 6 riot, a rogue wave trying to shatter a hydroelectric dam. They will not be the ones sitting at the right hand and left hand of the throne of the coming kingdom. Those seats are currently reserved for Google and Facebook, with a long and largely predictable queue just behind.

But don’t bother looking in another castle, Mario. The princess isn’t in this one. Or any other.