“The Mezzanine” by Nicholson Baker and Attending to the Mundane

by Derek Neal

The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker is a novel about paying attention. After you read a chapter, you, too, begin paying attention to things you’ve never noticed before.

On my way to work this morning, gliding down quiet, leafy streets in my 2012 Mazda 3 GS-SKY, I noticed a new sign. It was planted in the soil around a tree that had been planted into the sidewalk. In certain cities, this would not have been possible. I’ve noticed that when a tree is planted into the sidewalk, there are three options when it comes to the block of cement that has been replaced by the tree. The most common choice, and the choice that my city has made, is to fill in the square with dirt or mulch.

Sidewalk tree with dirt/mulch

This was why the sign could be planted there, because there was soft ground in which to insert the two metal rods that held the sign. Another choice is to cover the empty square with a grate. To my mind, this is the sensible choice. If you don’t cover the square, trash and cigarette butts will quickly fill in the square, which will be difficult to remove because you can’t simply sweep them up—the level of the dirt is not flush with the sidewalk, so a sort of divot is created in which trash can collect—instead, a city worker will be forced to pick up the trash with some sort of picking device, or they’ll have to maneuver a dust bin and broom into the square space around the tree, which must be difficult, considering that the dust bin and broom may not fit easily into the square. This is why the grate is the correct choice: it creates a flush seam with the surrounding sidewalk, prevents trash from collecting in the area around the tree, and makes cleaning easier. Read more »



Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Music Of The Spheres: The Hopf Fibration And Physics

by Jochen Szangolies

The particles of the Standard Model (and gravity). Image credit: Cush, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Modern physics in its full mathematical splendor introduces an array of unfamiliar concepts that daunt the initiate, and often even bewilder the pro (or is that just me?). A part of it is just that it’s a complex topic, and its objects of study are far removed from everyday experience: a quark or a black hole or a glueball is not something you’re likely to find on your desk. Well, maybe the latter, if you’ve been sloppy while crafting recently, but as so very often, physicists further confuse things by giving familiar names to unfamiliar concepts (spin, I’m looking your way).

But saying ‘it’s complicated’ is merely a fig leaf. Lots of things are complicated, and we manage to navigate them with ease. Many jobs involve reams of specialist knowledge, from plumbing to hedge-fond management, and even just navigating our webs of social relationships comes with considerable overhead. So what is it that makes physics special?

There is, of course, the already mentioned issue of the remoteness of its central concepts. Many of the complicated tasks we solve are so ingrained to us that we scarcely notice their complexity—the act of throwing a ball, or catching it out of thin air in flight, involves calculations that, in a realistic setting, stymied the efforts of robotics engineers for a long time. Likewise, the acquisition of language—even present-day Large Language Models (LLMs) still need to ‘read’ tens of trillions of words to acquire a degree of language fluency a human child can pick up just from what is spoken around them in their first couple of years. By comparison, an average reader would take something like 80.000 years of continuous reading time to ingest the text on which an LLM is trained!

These are tasks that, in some manner, are performed ‘natively’ by the human brain, without us noticing their complexity. Such tasks are sometimes classed as ‘System 1’-tasks in the dual-system psychology popularized by Daniel Kahnemann in his bestselling popular science book Thinking, Fast and Slow. In contrast, solving a mathematical equation or reasoning through a logic puzzle are step-by-step, explicit ‘System 2’-tasks you have to concentrate on—they’re not performed ‘by themselves’ the way catching a ball is. Read more »

Defining Corruption Down

by Barry Goldman

Robert McDonnell was the Governor of Virginia in 2014 when the federal government indicted him and his wife on bribery charges. A Virginia businessman named Jonnie Williams provided the McDonnells with over $175,000 in “loans, gifts and other benefits.” In exchange, the Governor “arranged meetings, hosted events, and contacted other government officials” in an effort to advance the fortunes of Anatabloc, a nutritional supplement manufactured by Williams’ company.

Mr. and Mrs. McDonnell were convicted and sentenced to prison terms of two years and one year respectively. McDonnell appealed, and the Court of Appeals affirmed. He petitioned the Supreme Court, they granted certiorari, and we have the case of United States v. McDonnell.

I don’t want to be accused of spinning the facts here, so I’ll take my language directly from the Court’s decision. Here are two examples of the conduct at issue:

Governor McDonnell’s wife, Maureen McDonnell, offered to seat Williams next to the Governor at a political rally. Shortly before the event, Williams took Mrs. McDonnell on a shopping trip and bought her $20,000 worth of designer clothing. The McDonnells later had Williams over for dinner at the Governor’s Mansion, where they discussed research studies on Anatabloc.

At a subsequent meeting at the Governor’s Mansion, Mrs. McDonnell admired Williams’s Rolex and mentioned that she wanted to get one for Governor McDonnell. Williams asked if Mrs. McDonnell wanted him to purchase a Rolex for the Governor, and Mrs. McDonnell responded, “Yes, that would be nice.” Williams did so, and Mrs. McDonnell later gave the Rolex to Governor McDonnell as a Christmas present.

There is no dispute that McDonnell “arranged meetings, hosted events, and contacted other government officials” on behalf of Williams and Anatabloc. The question the court addressed was whether those were “official acts.” Here is more from the Court’s opinion:

[T]he federal bribery statute… makes it a crime for “a public official or person selected to be a public official, directly or indirectly, corruptly” to demand, seek, receive, accept, or agree “to receive or accept anything of value” in return for being “influenced in the performance of any official act.” An “official act” is defined as “any decision or action on any question, matter, cause, suit, proceeding or controversy, which may at any time be pending, or which may by law be brought before any public official, in such official’s official capacity, or in such official’s place of trust or profit.”

So let’s review. Williams wants to see universities in Virginia conduct trials of Anatabloc so he can get FDA approval to market it as a drug. He takes the Governor’s wife out and buys her $20,000 worth of clothes and a Rolex. The Governor invites him to the Mansion and also invites top health officials from his administration and executives from Virginia universities involved in drug research. What do you think is happening? Read more »

Perceptions

Sughra Raza. Remains of The Day. Oolloo House, Vermont, August 2024.

Digital photograph.

“Found in backyards as well as forests across the eastern United States, the flowering dogwood feeds dozens of other fruit-loving bird species, along with foxes, skunks, beavers and black bears. Its berries are also high in calcium, and the calcium in its leaves nourishes land snails that songbirds such as wood thrush eat. ”

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Monday, August 19, 2024

Effective Altruism, Ethical Pluralism, and Meaning in Life

by Rachel Robison-Greene

When people think about what it is to live a successful life, they often think about finding a good job that pays a respectable salary, meeting and making a commitment to a life partner, having children, buying a house, and affording the luxuries that financial success makes possible.  Some view success as a zero-sum game; I can only have more if you have less.  Success, on this model, is not just keeping up with, but surpassing the Joneses.  The Effective Altruism movement has encouraged people to think about success differently.  Instead of measuring it by the wealth one accrues, we should instead measure the success of a person’s life by looking at how much good they do.

The Effective Altruist (EA) movement was motivated in no small part by Peter Singer’s 1971 paper, Famine, Affluence, and Morality in which he argues that each of us ought to be doing very much more for the global poor than we are currently doing.  The premises of his argument remain true today—most of us do not give a substantial amount of our income to the world’s most impactful charities.

Since its inception in the early 2000’s, the EA movement has energized young people searching for a source of meaning in their lives.  To many, it was clear that a life spent in pursuit of a larger and larger bank account balance would always be full of things but lacking in substance.  It was equally clear that some problems cause more suffering than others, suffering matters, and that the most meaningful life would involve eradicating as much suffering as possible.

In the intervening years, EA has graduated from college classrooms to Silicon Valley and the pages of top newspapers.  If money is needed to solve the globe’s most serious problems, converting top earners to the movement is a promising strategy.  In 2023, billionaire Sam Bankman-Fried, the founder of cryptocurrency exchange FTX, was convicted of fraud, conspiracy, and money laundering.  News coverage surrounding the issue revealed that Bankman-Fried was an Effective Altruist and gave large amounts of money to charity.

Since this news became widely known, attitudes toward EA have shifted, even in academic departments.  Read more »

The Three Battlelines for AI Safety

by Malcolm Murray

The battle lines are drawn. AI safety is fighting a battle on three fronts.

The figure shows how the AI safety viewpoint is opposed to three others, on two dimensions. First, let’s define the axes. The debate over advanced AI and its risks and benefits has many dimensions, but here we focus on two of the most important: timeframe – short-term vs long-term and risk appetite – high vs low. Timeframe is self-explanatory, but we should note that long-term here doesn’t mean the very long term measured in decades and centuries, just anything beyond the short cycles elsewhere – the quarterly earnings cycles of corporations, the valuation cycles of startups and the election cycles of politicians. Risk appetite means the level of risk one is willing to take to receive benefits. A high risk appetite means one is willing to take a large amount of risk to receive rewards, while a low risk appetite means a more risk-balanced approach, where one is willing to take a moderate amount of risk to receive the same level of rewards.

Using these two axes, we can distinguish four distinct AI viewpoints. I call these viewpoints rather than camps or groups, since several quadrants have multiple groups which may not fully agree with each other, and there is also overlap between the quadrants. The figure also contains just one prominent example for each quadrant, there are many others that could be plotted.

Let’s then turn to AI safety and the three battle lines. The AI safety viewpoint is in the top right corner, with a long time horizon and a low risk appetite. This can be loosely defined as the view that advanced AI, while bringing significant benefits to society, also poses significant new, and enhanced risks. It does not hold that all risk is bad and society should not make any progress, but rather that progress should be risk-balanced, taking into account the benefits, and weighing them against the risks. The three battle lines are with the opposing viewpoints in the other three quadrants.

The battle lines vary in their level of conflict. A year or two ago, the temperature ran highest in the battle over timeframe between the risk-cautious viewpoints. Read more »

Poem by Jim Culleny

Getting to Know You

I’m getting to know you. You who came
with the first Archaeon’s spark

Everything was new then, even you, you
parenthetical tail of vital events, you
old telegraphic protoplasmic stopyou
callous caboose bringing up the ends of trains
of eloquent clauses, small words, grunts
and final remains, you little, but lethal,
punctuational dot.

You came on the scene with the first cell-knots waiting,
you loomed in the dark as first hearts began beating,
in celebrations of birth you took orchestra seating,
at wakes you confirmed your ruthless deleting.

Never kind to lovers you bathed the earth in shade
two-stepping with light —its dissembling side:
what it made you unmade
…………………………………….. It Comes!
—alarms went out when your hacking heralds came through
making it clear you’d come to snuff anything new:

alone in your shadow lovers wept
…… embracing only the smoke they’d kept
………… of the flame you’d smothered before you left

by Jim Culleny
10/7/13

Sunday, August 18, 2024

Conspiraboids

by David Winner

Image
AI image of Trump’s uninjured ear

Is it like that first moment when you touch certain parts of yourself as a child and find pleasure in it?  Or that first drink, that first cigarette?

When I opened Facebook the morning after Trump got shot in Pennsylvania, several Facebook friends who share my basic politics were questioning what had happened.  Could this awful event that seemed to sound the death knell to Democratic hopes in 2024, maybe the whole flawed American democratic experiment, possibly have been staged?  No one would worship Trump like a martyr if he were known to fake his own assassination.

Now that I’d determined that the shooting was staged, what other realities could I question? All my life I could have rejected political outcomes that bothered me—Reagan in 1980, Trump in 2016, and both Bushes in between.  Cowardly Vice Presidents had certified those results.  The Republicans had brought out their dead to vote along with the help of their Ukrainian/Russian/Venezuelan/Cuban allies.  They’d fucked with voting machines.

However unbelievable, Trump was really shot in his upper right ear, one of his supporters losing his life to another bullet. Trump really did have the guts to pump his fists rather than crumble in terror like I would have surely done.   Along with cannabinoids in our brains, I think we have conspiraboids that get activated when political events don’t go our way. Given America’s horrific revenge after 9/11, the massive death tolls in Iraq and Afghanistan, the CIA black cites in Eastern Europe, the idea that it was actually Bush who took down the Towers appealed to me for at least a moment when I first heard it until my conspiraboids settled down, and I faced the reality of Osama Bin Laden, Mohamed Atta etc.

Like the opiate epidemic but maybe even more free ranging, conspiraboids are lighting up in people’s brains all over the world.  Ukrainians are really Nazis. Rohingya are recent invaders of Myanmar.  Moslems aren’t really Indians.  Illegal alien rapists and murderers are descending upon the southern border of the United States. Read more »

Affective Technology, Part 3: Coherence in the Self

by William Benzon

Ritual Play, Day of the Dead in Jersey City

In the first part of this series on Affective Technology, I talked about Poems and Stories, using Coleridge’s “This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison” as one example and a passage from Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer as the other. Coleridge’s poem talks about an injured poet having to spend the afternoon alone while his friend’s take a walk through the countryside. Thought the process of actively imagining his friends enjoying themselves, the disconsolate poet pulls himself out of his funk to the point that he is able to bless them in their journey. The passage from Tom Sawyer mirrored something I did as a child when I was sent to my room as punishment for something I’d done wrong. I would imagine that my parents were lamenting my death and their imagined lamentations would enable me to feel better. The passage from Tom Sawyer was more or less like that, though a bit grander, as befits Tom’s sense of himself. Tom and his friends had run off to the river and the townspeople began searching the river for their drowned bodies. When he realized what was going on, Tom snuck into his Aunt Polly’s house at night and listened to the women commiserate over the deaths of their boys. It made him feel good. The point is a simple one: we use poems and stories to regulate our emotional life.

In the second article, Emotion Recollected in Tranquility, I introduced the concept of state-dependent memory, which holds the our memories are chemically keyed to the neurochemicals active during the experiences themselves. Thus, I suggested, “if the sexually aroused self has trouble recalling any life episodes other than those involving sexual arousal, and the vengeful self can recall only incidents of vengeance, and the thirsty self has little sense of any geography beyond that leading to water, then how can we see ourselves and our fellows whole?” Using Shakespeare’s Sonnet 129, “The expense of spirit,” as an example, I went on to argue that literature, and art more generally, provides a (neurochemically) neutral ground giving us access to a full range experience. And this allows us to construct a coherent sense of self.

What happens if, however, the process of constructing a self fails? Read more »

Friday, August 16, 2024

Lessons From Singapore – The Power Of Homeownership

by Eric Feigenbaum

I noticed around the time I turned 30, conversations at parties and get-togethers inevitably turned toward real estate: how much homes cost in which neighborhood, who people know who had bought a house – and how. There was an innate understanding that financial success was tied into owning a home and in a city like Los Angeles where I live, getting into a house is no easy feat.

The house with a white picket fence has always been the symbol of the American Dream. Especially in the postwar era, Americans prided themselves on an upwardly mobile middle class who could own at least a small piece of their country.

American homeownership peaked in 2004 at 69.4 percent and today hovers at around 65 percent which is still favorable to the entire 1960s when homeownership was around 63 percent.

Imagine a country with 90 percent homeownership. Imagine what it would mean to have a society with that rate of homeownership – with that high a level of security and wealth accumulation.

That’s exactly what Lee Kuan Yew, Singapore’s founding Prime Minister did. Although educated in economics and law at University, Lee Kuan Yew noticed as a child the differences between neighborhoods dominated by homeownership versus those that were mostly rented. Cleanliness, stability and low crime rates were among the benefits of an owned neighborhood.

In 1965 when Singapore declared its independence both from the Malaysian Federation from which it was ejected and from the United Kingdom from which it was being decolonized, Singapore had a roughly 27 percent homeownership rate. Shockingly low.

Why? Read more »

Embracing Fallibility

by Marie Snyder 

Many of us live  in a punitive, carceral type of society that can make it difficult to have compassion for ourselves or others. It’s an era of the glorification of the individual over the group, leading to perfectionism and narcissism and so, so much loneliness. We can’t connect when we’re working with blind determination to find our place above the rest. We can’t connect when we don’t dare show an ounce of vulnerability for fear of being taken down like a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti. Our quest to rise to the top for the security we think comes with status and money is completely at odds with our very real need to feel authentically known, within the security of a community. 

We’re no longer following that love and forgiveness bit from Christianity, if we ever really did wide-scale. And we project our fear of losing on anyone who has suffered through difficulties, no matter if it’s a natural disaster or massive layoff. We distance ourselves from the suffering of others by convincing ourselves they must have done something stupid to be in this position, and, therefore, we’re safe as long as we keep on going hard. It’s just a trick to make us feel safer, that unwittingly keeps us from too consciously noticing the floods and fires, layoffs and illnesses lapping at our heels.   Read more »

Thursday, August 15, 2024

Dad Jokes

by Rafaël Newman

C.J. Newman (Feb. 17, 1935–Aug. 3, 2024)

Around ten years ago—before the physical and cognitive decline that began during the pandemic; before his removal from autonomy to a care home in the north end of Montreal; before his death there at the beginning of this month—my father entrusted me with his personal collection of jokes.

As he approached his eighties, the decade of their lives in which both of his parents had died, dad had begun to feel increasingly elegiac, a mode not easily compatible with his professional role as a raconteur. Indeed, by his own account, his narrative powers generally—upon which he had relied, during his career as a novelist, poet, and professor of creative writing—were on the wane. “I feel like I no longer have a story to tell,” he said during a visit I made to his apartment in 2013: and thus, a fortiori, he must also no longer be a teller of jokes.

The Word file my father mailed me, ten years ago, from his PC in Montreal’s Mile End to my MacBook in Zurich’s sixth district, is some 250 pages long and counts almost 122,000 words. It comprises between 700 and 900 jokes—it’s difficult to give a precise tally, since some of the entries are of shaggy-dog length, while others are multipart variations on a theme: spoof ad campaigns for Viagra, mock letters to Dear Abby, ostensibly alien words that turn out simply to be the phonetic rendering of “redneck” pronunciations. There are cameos by all the types familiar from the commedia dell’arte of Golden Age American stand-up: St. Peter; various “blondes” and Mothers Superior; talking parrots; bartenders; “Irishmen”; and, of course, The Lord Almighty Himself, in His aspect as begrudging distributor of attributes to tardy recipients.

What is notably absent from my dad’s jokes, however, is anything that might properly be termed a dad joke. This may be because “dad jokes” typically arise ad hoc, out of a particular real-world context, and are thus less suitable for isolated transcription and transmission than more generic, self-enclosed, typologically defined anecdotes. Or perhaps it is due to the fact that, according to my own observations, the typical dad joke is not sexist, not racist, not violent—and therefore not conventionally funny, since humor derives its explosive force, in psychoanalytic interpretation, from its ability to release otherwise shameful aggression in a socially acceptable fashion. Dad jokes also often feature—indeed, are often centrally built around—puns, which are likelier to elicit groans than laughter; and my dad, for all his professional attention to the concrete effects and semantic vagaries of language, typically grew impatient at what seemed a fetishistic dwelling on the phonemic or even lexical surface of words. What interested him, when telling a joke, was getting a laugh. Read more »

Pop

by Akim Reinhardt

undefinedHere’s what a bubble looks like.

I walk into the local convenience store, and next to the two ATMs is a third machine selling Bitcoin. You can slide a bank card into the ATMs and get cash. You can slide your credit or debit card into the third machine and buy a Bitcoin, or a percentage of one if you can’t afford to shell out roughly $65,000 for a whole one.

But you know what you can’t do? Turnaround and use your brand new bitcoin to buy anything in the convenience store where you purchased the bitcoin.

There’s a machine in the store that will sell you money that you can’t use to buy anything in the store.

I’m tempted to say this is my Bernard Baruch moment. The famous apocryphal story is that Baruch realized it was time to get out of the stock market, just ahead of the 1929 crash, when a shoeshine boy tried to give him a hot stock tip. When everyone wants to get in, it’s time to get out.

But this can’t be my Bernard Baruch moment because Baruch made a fortune on the market before it crashed, while I’ve always steered clear of Bitcoin, never having had faith that it, or other block chain currencies, would prove to be anything but a game of musical chairs speculation. I can’t get out if I never got in. Instead, the convenience store Bitcoin machine was just a moment of confirmation. Perhaps something like, it’s been years since you believed in Santa Claus, and then one Christmas Eve you happen to catch daddy drinking the milk and eating the cookies.

Recently, we may have seen less Baruchian sign that yet another bubble is near popping: Donald Trump’s Cult of Personality. It certainly feels like something has changed over the last month. Read more »

Wednesday, August 14, 2024

A Tale of Three Translators

Haruki Murakami’s translation of the Great Gatsby

by Leanne Ogasawara

Idray Novey Ways to Disappear
Jennifer Croft The Extinction of Irena Rey
Haruki Murakami on The Great Gatsby

1.

A translator living in Pennsylvania is worried, because her favorite client is missing. And it’s not just any client but the Brazilian cult novelist Beatriz Yagoda whose work the translator has labored on for years. For peanuts too.

And when I say peanuts I mean that the author and the translator each get about $500 per book! As a translator with a manuscript of poetry translations of my own ready-to-go, I know that if I ever do try to shop it around, I’d be lucky to get even that much. Translation does not pay. And neither does poetry… I am on a ten-week fellowship with ten other artists, and one of the more successful writers here, a poet with a fabulous publisher, said she is turning to novels since she learned first-hand how little poetry pays, and I wondered does fiction really pay then? But I digress.

So our American translator immediately books a ticket to Rio. I mean, what’s she supposed to do? She feels without a shadow of a doubt that being the author’s translator, only she “truly understands” the author and is therefore the best person for locating her.

The author’s daughter thinks this is ridiculous. She herself had never read her mother’s books. But who but a daughter knows the mother best?

She had no patience for the illusion that you could know someone because you knew her novels. What about knowing what a writer had never written down—wasn’t that the real knowledge of who she was?

Ways to Disappear is such a fantastic novel. The author Idra Novey is herself an award-winning translator. Most notably of Clarice Lispector, whose life has some resonance with the translator protagonist in Novey’s story. Both being physically beautiful and having been born outside of Brazil. I didn’t know this about Lispector that she was born in Ukraine but at an early age the family emigrated to Brazil to escape pogroms. Read more »

What Did We Know and When Did We Know It?

by Monte Davis

Climate change first came to many Americans’ attention in June, 1988. James Hansen, director of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies, testified to the Senate Committee on Energy and Natural Resources that the signal of long-term warming from increasing CO2 in the atmosphere had emerged unmistakably from the noise of year-to-year variation in weather.

Four of the warmest years on record had come earlier in the 1980s, and 1988 would be another. One wildfire after another had begun to spread in Yellowstone Park. As that summer advanced, what would be a historically severe and costly three-year-drought took hold in most of the United States.

How long had this moment been coming?  The unmatched resource for answers is Spenser R. Weart’s superb 2003 book The Discovery of Global Warming, and its greatly expanded, steadily updated, richly linked hypertext version online.

In 1824, Joseph Fourier reasoned quialitatively that the atmosphere must let the sun’s visible light in more readily to warm the earth than it lets that warmth out as infrared radiation.

In 1859, Joseph Tyndall identified water vapor and carbon dioxide, CO2, as the most important components that absorbed — “trapped” — and re-radiated downward some of the infrared energy.

In 1896, a century into the industrial revolution and its hunger for fossil fuels, Svante Arrhenius calculated very roughly that a 50% increase in CO2 would warm the planet on average by 5° to 6° C. The good news is that his estimate was almost four times too high.  The bad news is that the next century of the Industrial Revolution – and more coal and more oil and gas, and population growth – blew out all expectations. Arrhenius speculated such an increase would take many centuries, but we will reach it in 2026. And keep going. Read more »

Tuesday, August 13, 2024

A Constitutional Republic, If You Can Keep It

by Michael Liss

The principles of Jefferson are the definition and axioms of free society…. All honor to Jefferson—to the man who, in the concrete pressure of a struggle for national independence by a single people, had the coolness, forecast, and capacity to introduce into a merely revolutionary document, an abstract truth, applicable to all men and all times, and so embalm it there, that to-day, and in all coming days, it shall be a rebuke and a stumbling-block to the very harbingers of re-appearing tyranny and oppression. —Abraham Lincoln, April 6, 1859 Letter to Henry L. Pierce and others.

Constitution of the United States. National Archives Museum.

An extraordinary man. Two extraordinary men, whose lives were bound together by a common thread of devotion to an idea of self-government in which all men are created equal. It is true that they did not understand it in exactly the same way (you cannot ignore the stain of slavery). Yet, the kind of people who rejected Jefferson’s core concept had—in his time, in Lincoln’s time, and now—a purpose: in Lincoln’s words, “supplanting the principles of free government, and restoring those of classification, caste and legitimacy.”

We are less than two years away from the 250th anniversary of Jefferson’s defining words, and yet it seems we are less certain, less secure, perhaps even less committed to the idea of self-government.

There is a stunning AP-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research poll that was just released, which reported the finding that “[o]nly 21% of adults feel U.S democracy is strong enough to prevail no matter who wins the election in November.”

Just exactly what is the “U.S. Democracy” that may not prevail? Before we go further, we ought to get some nomenclature misunderstandings out of the way. Let’s introduce Democracy’s cousin, the “Constitutional Republic.” Yes, we live in a Constitutional Republic and not a Democracy. No, that’s not a concluding and conclusive argument any time someone wants to make government more representative, more answerable to the voters, or less beholden to privilege. Opponents of change who invoke the phrase “mob rule” just highlight the fact that what’s at stake isn’t high principle, but rather a desire to “supplant[] the principles of free government, and restor[e] those of classification, caste and legitimacy.”

There are no “pure democracies,” even if we frame it that way out of convenience. To quote from a 2017 essay by Ryan McMaken, Executive Editor at the (very not liberal) Mises Institute:

[I]f anyone wants to argue against majoritarianism, he should simply do so. There is no need to rely on a half-baked usage of the writings of ‘the Founding Fathers’ who clearly supported a political system in which majority votes play a big part in selecting elected officials, and which is obviously a democracy according to the modern usage of the term.

In actuality, we have always had a constitutional republic, rather than a democracy. That we call it Democracy changes absolutely nothing. It’s the substance of the argument that ought to matter. The Founders did not first put an electric fence of privilege around the Constitution, and then bind for eternity all succeeding generations. Rather, they understood that Madison’s intricate document was imperfect, but it created a mechanism (through Amendment) to update it. It’s not easy to pass an Amendment, but it has been done many times, and in the service of expanding individual liberties and “Democracy.” Read more »

How The American Way Traveled By Car

by Mark R. DeLong

The photograph shows the corner of a room where an unmade bed stands, the headboard occupying most of the left half of the image. One the bed are newspapers and pillows. From the center of the photo, a number of images of cars and trucks, cutout from magazines and newspapers, emanate in roughly a triangular shape. The wall is unpainted insulation board.
Rothstein, Arthur. Room in which migratory agricultural workers sleep. Camden County, New Jersey. October 1938. Photograph. The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Print Collection, The New York Public Library. Click source URL for enlargement: https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/518bdec0-b97b-0138-ebbc-059ac310b610. See footnote [1] below for information about the title of the photograph.
Gullies had deepened, though puddles—some pond-like—had seeped into the ways, so that the challenge of driving was a matter of keeping axels clear of the swell of ground between tire tracks. Never really good, the roads still showed wounds from September’s hurricane, now known as The Great New England Hurricane of 1938. It had blown by New Jersey, a bit out to sea, but still whipped the coast with hundred-mile-an-hour winds. The state’s tomato crops were ruined, and angry winds and downpours had bitten a chunk out of the apple harvest. Potatoes, at least, nestled snugly under clotted soil, protected from the winds.

In October 1938, 23-year-old Arthur Rothstein drove the roads on assignment to document the lives of the nation as part of his job in the Farm Security Administration (FSA). This time, his assignment was New Jersey, and in Monmouth County he was interested in where potato-picking migrants slept, usually in shacks near the fields they worked. He took lots of pictures of ramshackle buildings—ones you would easily assess as barely habitable: a leaning frame taped together with tar paper, a “silo shed” that sheltered fourteen migrant workers, a “barracks” with hinged wooden flaps to cover windows—in fact merely unscreened openings, one dangling laundry to dry. Rothstein, like his colleagues at the FSA during Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, documented the need for the government programs. Squalid housing matched the dirt and brutal labor of migrants, many of them cast into their situations by the disaster of the Great Depression.

Amidst such architectural photographs, one sticks out. Actually it is one of a pair of photographs, both taken indoors of sleeping quarters—no one would comfortably call them “bedrooms.” One shows a narrow unmade bed near a window shabbily curtained with a frayed and loosely hung blanket. In the other one, more tightly framed, the image draws close enough to reveal a carved headboard, a rumpled newspaper open to a full-page ad for Coca-Cola (“Take the high road to refreshment“) and other papers pushed to the corner of the bed. Neatly cut pictures of luxury cars from newspaper advertisements decorate the flimsy particle board wall that served as meagre insulation.[1]

When I saw the picture with the cars, I noticed a change in visual tone. The image felt hopeful. Read more »