Sophie Haigney at The Baffler:

We really are sleeping less. As Crary writes, in the early twentieth century, adults slept an unthinkable ten hours every night on average. A generation ago, people were tucking in for eight hours. Today, the average North American adult sleeps a paltry six-and-a-half hours every night. This is often blamed on our devices, which do play a major role. But Crary argues that, interrelatedly, the forces of twenty-first-century capitalism have shown an obsessive enthusiasm for destroying sleep.

Sleep, he argues, is a last frontier, something that unlike every other strand of modern life has not yet been commodified. This is because sleep is perfectly pointless and therefore useless. “The stunning, inconceivable reality is that nothing of value can be extracted from it,” Crary writes.

more here.

Franz Nicolay at The Paris Review:

When he passed away this week at the age of ninety-four, the singer, songwriter, and actor Charles Aznavour was still touring. He was a living link to the golden age of French chanson. As a young man, he had been maligned as short and ugly, an immigrant with a hoarse voice, but he became a protégée of Édith Piaf, and then a global star in his own right. While his success in the anglophone world never equaled his renown in other countries, he was, by any reckoning, one of the twentieth century’s most popular entertainers, often referred to as the French Sinatra (Aznavour sang with Sinatra on the latter’s Duets record). He sang in five languages, appeared in at least thirty films, wrote somewhere in the vicinity of a thousand songs, and sold hundreds of millions of records worldwide.

“I am popular because I am like everybody in France,” he told Lillian Ross in 1963. “My face is the face of anybody. My voice is the voice of anybody. My face is the face of their hope.”

more here.

What It Was Like

If you want to know what
it was like, I’ll tell you
what my tío told me:
There was a truck driver,
Antonio, who could handle a
rig as easily in reverse as
anybody else straight ahead:

Too bad he’s a Mexican was
what my tío said the
Anglos had to say
about that.

And thus the moral:

Where do you begin if
you begin with if
you’re too good
it’s too bad?

by Leroy Quintana
from El Coro
Uniniversity of Massachusetts Press, 1997

Robin McKie in The Guardian:

In 2017, scientists in Australia observed some striking avian behaviour. A handful of kites and falcons in the outback were seen picking up burning sticks from bush fires. The birds would then carry these smoking embers in their beaks to areas of dry grass and drop them. New fires were set off, triggering frenzied evacuations by small animals – which were promptly snatched from above by the waiting raptors. Such actions are extraordinary, says Adam Rutherford, a science writer and broadcaster. “It is, as far as I am aware, the only documented account of deliberate fire-starting by an animal other than a human. These birds are using fire as a tool.” Indigenous Australians occasionally deliberately start fires in order to flush out game, he notes. Did they learn the habit from birds? “Or maybe it is just a good trick and only us and the raptors have worked it out.” Either way, it is clear humans are not the only ones who see fire as a means for getting what they want – and that is key to Rutherford’s examination of what it means to be human. In what way, exactly, are we exceptional as a species? Science has continually chipped away at the notion of human specialness, the idea of our being “the paragon of animals”. Prowess at pyrotechnics is just the latest “human-only” attribute that has since been revealed to have animal exponents.

So what is left? What behaviours uniquely define our species? The usual list includes speech, tool-making, culture, as well as art and fashion. We are masters and mistresses of all, but none are exclusive human attributes. Crows make and use tools; apes can be taught sign language; dolphins and birds have been observed adopting habits through cultural transmission; chimps have been seen using styles of headwear “just to be in with the in-crowd”, as Rutherford puts it.

That leaves war and sex, both popular human pastimes. But is either peculiar to our species? Sex certainly occupies a titanic amount of our time and interest. One study has indicated that in Britain alone roughly 900,000,000 acts of heterosexual intercourse take place every year. (That’s about 100,000 an hour, if you are interested.) Yet only 0.1% of these bouts of British bonking results in a conception – and that is a very, very low rate of reproduction. Our species has almost, but not quite, decoupled sexual intercourse from its replication, it seems. But that still does not make us unique. Bonobo apes turn out to be even more genitally obsessed and sexually motivated than humans. All have intercourse several times a day, usually with different partners.

That leaves us with war. Again we seem infatuated with violence.

More here.

The Editorial Board at The New York Times:

If we keep burning coal and petroleum to power our society, we’re cooked — and a lot faster than we thought. The United Nations scientific panel on climate change issued a terrifying new warning on Monday that continued emissions of greenhouse gases from power plants and vehicles will bring dire and irreversible changes by 2040, years earlier than previously forecast. The cost will be measured in trillions of dollars and in sweeping societal and environmental damage, including mass die-off of coral reefs and animal species, flooded coastlines, intensified droughts, food shortages, mass migrations and deeper poverty.

The worst impacts can be avoided only by a “far-reaching and unprecedented” transformation of the global energy system, including virtually eliminating the use of coal as a source of electricity, the panel warned. Yet President Trump, who has questioned the accepted scientific consensus on climate change, continues to praise “clean beautiful coal” and has directed his Environmental Protection Agency to reverse major strides undertaken by the Obama administration to reduce greenhouse gas emissions from coal-fired power plants. This is unbelievably reckless. In addition to undermining the fight against climate change, the president’s efforts to prop up the dirtiest of all fuels will also exact a significant toll on public health, on the hearts and lungs of ordinary Americans.

More here.

Daniel Dennett and Gregg Caruso in Aeon:

Caruso: [Dan,] you have famously argued that freedom evolves and that humans, alone among the animals, have evolved minds that give us free will and moral responsibility. I, on the other hand, have argued that what we do and the way we are is ultimately the result of factors beyond our control, and that because of this we are never morally responsible for our actions, in a particular but pervasive sense – the sense that would make us truly deserving of blame and praise, punishment and reward. While these two views appear to be at odds with each other, one of the things I would like to explore in this conversation is how far apart we actually are. I suspect that we may have more in common than some think – but I could be wrong. To begin, can you explain what you mean by ‘free will’ and why you think humans alone have it?

Dennett: A key word in understanding our differences is ‘control’. [Gregg,] you say ‘the way we are is ultimately the result of factors beyond our control’ and that is true of only those unfortunates who have not been able to become autonomous agents during their childhood upbringing. There really are people, with mental disabilities, who are not able to control themselves, but normal people can manage under all but the most extreme circumstances, and this difference is both morally important and obvious, once you divorce the idea of control from the idea of causation. Your past does not control you; for it to control you, it would have to be able to monitor feedback about your behaviour and adjust its interventions – which is nonsense.

More here.

Ajay Singh Chaudhary in Public Seminar:

We Americans are “constitutional fetishists” in the apt phrase of the lesser-known mid-20^th century critical theorist of law and economy, Franz Neumann. We tend to think that a particular order of state institutions — for example, our current incarnation of the separation-of-powers — embodies the essence of democracy instead of looking to see what kind of politics, democratic or otherwise, such institutions facilitate. Although Neumann was speaking in the broad strokes of theory, the United States is, perhaps, the case-in-point.

Far from living at the bay of “the mob,” the United States is institutionally the least democratic among nominally democratic countries in the OECD world. When the political scientists Alfred Stepan and Juan Linz — who had devoted their careers to studying democratization around the world – turned their analysis to the United States, what they discovered was a not a pretty picture. While most democratic states have at best one or two so-called “veto players” — checks on the expression of popular sovereignty through elected representation — the United States has four. The United States has an additional four further amplifications of the power of an elected minority. Taken together, these establish the United States as the least representative democracy among developed democracies in the world. Stepan and Linz were hardly radical scholars but the implications of what they observed in the 1990s is indeed quite radical today.

It’s not that somehow this system has gone off the rails in recent years. Rather, as democratic pressures for the recognition of women and racial minorities as full human beings – to redress our gross economic inequality, to fundamentally transform our state and society into ones of freedom and flourishing for all — have increased, our constitutional order has acted precisely as it was intended. The “founders” feared a democratic society — that eventually an ever increasingly enfranchised majority would encroach on the privileges and the property of society’s “betters.”

More here.

Sanjay G. Reddy in Development and Change:

In The Nobel Factor, Avner Offer and Gabriel Söderberg help us to understand the politics behind the awarding of what is colloquially known as the Nobel Prize in Economics (and more correctly as the Swedish Central Bank Prize in Honour of Alfred Nobel). The main idea of the book is that the Prize has been often awarded to market‐oriented thinkers with the aim of undermining social democracy, of which Sweden was the most famous exemplar, in favour of market principles. This rather local agenda, pressed by the influential economist Assar Lindbeck (and presumably by others, although they receive less attention in the book) was, the authors argue, crucial to explaining the pattern of awards. The authors go so far as to contrast Economics with Social Democracy, in the process identifying the discipline as a whole with its most market‐oriented strand. The authors recognize that there were other elements within modern economics, but argue that the ‘high theory’ of neoclassical economics, interpreted as making the case for the optimality of markets, was greatly bolstered by the prize, especially after its first decade (when social democratic stalwarts such as Gunnar Myrdal won it.). The preponderance of University of Chicago faculty members among winners in the later period is one indication of this tendency, although the presence of exceptions even in the later years (notably Amartya Sen) is acknowledged (pp. 122–23). The authors state that ‘from an ideological point of view, the Nobel Committee was even‐handed in its awards, but the balance it achieved was biased to the right in comparison with opinion within the discipline, especially during the 1990s’ (ibid.).

The proposition that the pattern of prizes awarded reflected an agenda to change Swedish society should be distinguished from two others, each important in their own right, and distinct but potentially causally interrelated, that can be identified, namely 1.) that the prizes awarded actually did have the intended effect, or indeed any specific effect, on public policies shaping society (in Sweden or more generally), and 2.) that the pattern of the prizes awarded shaped the economics discipline, perhaps by offering prestige and authority to particular ideas or by shaping the activity of prize seekers.

More here.

Justin E. H. Smith in his own blog:

A rather ambitious campaign of academic hoaxing has been in the news over the past week. The hoaxers claim to be “liberals.” The online nonacademic right is gleeful in its celebration of the hoaxers’ purported accomplishments, and in its denunciation of what they call “postmodernism” (I prefer the alternative term “grievance studies,” as I take it that this relatively new sort of agenda-driven “me-search” holds to a naive and basically premodern realism about its categories; the proliferation of new pseudospecies and the tracking of their “intersections” looks much more like the “analogism” that characterises Italian Renaissance cosmology than it looks like, say, Baudrillard’s theory of simulacra or Lyotard’s critique of metanarratives). The academic left has taken its familiar posture of preening defensiveness, denying that there’s any distinct problem at all in the scholarly standards governing the publication of articles in the various “theory” fields that do not also show up in, say, psychology or political science.

Whatever. Everyone’s playing their assigned roles. But what I wanted to speak to here is the question of hoaxes in general. Quite apart from whether I think “Sokal Squared” has accomplished what its authors claim, I confess I am astounded, though I really should not be by now, by the moralism and the piety about rules and procedures that so many academics are expressing, as if hoaxing were always unethical and lacking in any potential salutary effects. These academics seem entirely unaware of the distinguished history of hoaxing, and to assume that it dates back no earlier than Sokal.

More here.

Mark Harris in Wired:

CHRISTOPHER TALBOT THOUGHT he would make a great police officer. He was 29 years old, fit, and had a clean background record. Talbot had military experience, including a tour of Iraq as a US Marine, and his commanding officer had written him a glowing recommendation. In 2014, armed with an associate degree in criminal justice, he felt ready to apply to become an officer with the New Haven Police Department, in his home state of Connecticut.

Talbot sailed through the department’s rigorous physical and mental tests, passing speed and agility trials and a written examination—but there was one final test. Like thousands of other law enforcement, fire, paramedic, and federal agencies across the country, the New Haven Police Department insists that each applicant take an assessment that has been rejected by almost every scientific authority: the polygraph test.

Commonly known as lie detectors, polygraphs are virtually unused in civilian life. They’re largely inadmissible in court and it’s illegal for most private companies to consult them. Over the past century, scientists have debunked the polygraph, proving again and again that the test can’t reliably distinguish truth from falsehood. At best, it is a roll of the dice; at worst, it’s a vessel for test administrators to project their own beliefs.

More here.

Christobel Hastings in Broadly:

It was the autumn of 1868, and for the samurai warriors of the Aizu clan in northern Japan, battle was on the horizon. Earlier in the year, the Satsuma samurai had staged a coup, overthrowing the Shogunate government and handing power to a new emperor, 15-year-old Mutsuhito, who was wasting no time in replacing the feudal ways of the ruling Tokugawa with a radically modern state. After a long summer of fighting, imperial forces reached the gates of Wakamatsu castle in October to quash the resistance, besieging the stronghold with 30,000 troops. Beyond its walls, 3,000 defiant warriors readied themselves for the final stand.

As the Aizu fought valiantly from the towers and trenches, most women remained behind the scenes, ploughing their energies into cooking, bandaging, and extinguishing cannonballs that pounded the castle day and night. But for Nakano Takeko, an onna-bugeisha woman warrior, front line defense was the only course of action. Faced with the mighty gun-power of the imperial army, Takeko led an unofficial unit of 20-30 women in a counter-attack against the enemy, felling at least five opponents with her naginata blade before taking a fatal bullet to the chest. With her dying breaths, Takeko asked her sister to behead her, so that her body wouldn’t be taken as a trophy. She was buried under a tree in the courtyard of the Aizu Bangmachi temple, where a monument now stands in her honor.

More here.