Damned Lies and Statistics

Aside

Radicalism By The Numbers

On Wednesday, Spencer Ackerman, who writes the Danger Room blog for Wired, peeked inside the classrooms at Quantico, when he published an overview of how at least one training course at the FBI Academy teaches that mainstream Islam is, by nature militant.

Ackerman’s post followed by two days the release of a letter by Senators Lieberman and Collins – the chair and ranking minority member of the Senate Committee on Homeland Security – to Deputy National Security Adviser John Brennan, whose is a chief advisor the president on issues involving terrorism.

That letter expressed the concern that conflating Islam with Radical Islamacism not only undermines the relationship between law enforcement and a community uniquely suited to assist in the fight against domestic terrorism, but risks obscuring the motives and plans of real terrorists.

Ackerman does a fine job of putting those lessons into their larger context, and you can decide for yourself whether his observation that Quantico exists to impart practical investigatory skills – and not to foster academic debate – is exculpatory or damning. But whatever you decide on that score, you cannot help but marvel at the slides.

Or at one slide in particular.  Summa Theologica

It should probably come as no surprise that, in a government conference room somewhere, someone has tried to condense a theological debate spanning three millennia into a Powerpoint presentation. But into one slide? If a picture is worth a thousand words, the slide to the right – which appeared in the training materials at Quantico – is easily worth a thousand dissertations. Somewhere, a neoconservative with an M.Div. from Harvard is wondering “why didn’t I think of that?”

The offending image was brilliantly lampooned by Amy Davidson in the New Yorker online Wednesday, and her observations regarding its “celestial decorative scheme” are priceless.

Closer to worthless is the notion that anything as complex, nuanced or sprawling as thirty-five centuries of religious thought could be meaningfully summarized in the artifact reproduced above.  And yet, someone tried.

And why not?

No modern presentation is complete without the soothing anodyne of Powerpoint, the Hamburger Helper of half-prepared speakers.

What began as a visual aide to augment the white boards and flip charts that still adorn the back pages of office supply catalogs has come to define the artless craft of cobbling together disjointed snippets of information without the trouble of creating real synthesis.

Edward Tufte – the high priest and genius of information design – has a monograph devoted to this topic, The Cognitive Style of Powerpoint, which you should read if you agree, and which you must read if you don’t.

Arguments like that presented in the graphic above dwell at the intersection of two roads, neither fit for an intellectually honest traveler.

The first is a broad highway – oversimplification – which delights in the graphic presentation of an idea that, expressed in words, would sound hopelessly simplistic.

What do we know about Christianity, based on the chart above?

Born in 3 BC, it is a faith of violent origins, beginning its life low on the y axis with such atrocities as the Virgin Birth, the Crucifixion of Christ, the martyrdom of the Disciples, the persecution of the Early Church and the rampages of the Church Fathers.

Fortunately for the world on which it was loosed, Christianity evolved, walking an ever brighter path toward peace through the Dark Ages, the Crusades, the Medici pontificates, the Thirty Years War and the colonization of the New World by Spain.

After twenty centuries of progress, Christianity today is a monolithic faith of supreme peace, that has long outgrown the internecine struggles of its earlier days.

Unlike benighted Islam – which must have smoked in its youth, its growth having been stunted around 622 – the Church Universal is all grown up. Just like Judaism, which numbers among its adherents some of our best friends.

Such drivel works best in graphical form, where two points define a line and everything in between is a distraction. As Tufte warns in The Visual Display of Quantitative Information:

To be truthful and revealing, data graphics must bear on the question at the heart of quantitive thinking: “Compared to what?” The emaciated, data thin design should always provoke suspicion, for graphics often lie by omission, leaving out data sufficient for comparisons.

*    *    *

Graphics can display the quantitative size of changes as well as their direction. The standard of getting only the direction and not the magnitude right is the philosophy that informs the Pravda School of Ordinal Graphics. There, every chart has a crystal clear direction coupled with fantasy magnitudes.

Subjecting the graphical object of our scorn to this critique is charitable, because it implies that its creator was more lazy that dishonest, and that with greater care he might have done a better job. But that is not so, not least because the underlying timeline shown for Christianity, the standard to which modern, militant Islam is being compared, is wildly ahistorical, to the point of being upside down.

Another problem arrives by the second road along which our example dwells: the modern tendency to believe that complex trends and narratives – be they social, political or historical – are always amenable to quantification.

Is Islam today more or less peaceful than in the time of Saladin?

Compared to what?  How do you measure the peace of a faith?

In the number of its law abiding adherents? In the percentage of recognized leaders who preach the propriety of violence? In the number of those killed in its name? In the lines of text written in favor of the Jihad of the Sword, less the lines written in opposition?

Whose voice counts? Osama Bin Laden? John XXIII? Or Leo X? Fred Phelps? Mother Theresa? Meir Kehane? Ian Paisley? John Brown? R. J. Rushdoony? Jesus Christ?

What is the quantum of peace? The Pacem? (I have dibs on that, by the way.)

Twenty-five years ago, I earned the lordly sum of $5.65 an hour as a research assistant at the Harvard Center for International Affairs, which was then led by the formidable political scientist, and founder of Foreign Affairs, Samuel P. Huntington.

In 1987, Huntington was nominated for membership in the National Academy of Sciences, an honor which – despite his towering status as a social scientist – he was twice denied. The opposition to his membership was lead by Serge Lang, a professor of mathematics at Yale, who accused Huntington of practicing a sort of pseudo-science by attempting to quantify inherently subjective, and unquantifiable things.

Huntington’s work was controversial on a number of fronts, and his support of authoritarian regimes in American client states during the cold war earned him no love among liberals. (He also had the only battle tank I have ever seen rendered in needlepoint framed on his office wall).

But Lang’s objections to his membership in the National Academy, at least on the surface, were apolitical, and faulted Huntington’s efforts to quantify the stability, and progress toward democracy, of disparate societies with equations that used such “soft” variables as societal aspiration, social instability, political satisfaction and popular frustration with ruling elites. Said Lang at the time, to Time magazine:

“This is utter nonsense. How does Huntington measure things like social frustration? Does he have a social-frustration meter? I object to the academy’s certifying as science what are merely political opinions.”

The same question might be asked of attempts to quantify such variables as militancy, loyalty, and the inclination toward violence in the march of an ancient, fractured faith along the road to an undefined state of peace.

There is a lot of mischief in that little chart.

No shortage of comments have pointed out that it risks tarring the faith of millions of loyal Americans with the broad brush of radicalism.  And it does.

But it also betrays how facile our discussion of what amounts to radicalism has become, even among those who have every opportunity and incentive to know and do better.

Which makes it yet another rhetorical warning sign on the road to stupidity.

Cleveland Heights, 17 September 2011

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Incendiary, Indefensible & Wrong

Aside

Mr. Vadum’s Silly Screed Against the Poor

On Friday, a man named Michael Vadum published an article in the American Thinker, the title of which  provides a tidy lesson in how our national discussion has lost its way.

Registering the Poor to Vote is Un-American is a pretty good title, if your point is to get attention, carry water for your media mentors and make a name for yourself as a provocateur. It is, after all, bold, counter-intuitive and deeply provocative. 

It is also, facile, unsupported by anything like serious argument, and morally indefensible.

Draw your own conclusions from what Vadum has written, but this is a fair summary.

Liberals favor voter registration drives, he contends, because the poor, once registered, tend to vote themselves entitlements. Organizing the poor as a means of subverting democracy has been the fundamental strategy of the left since Richard Cloward and Frances Fox Piven argued, in an article published in the Nation forty-five years ago, that getting the poor to vote was the key to subverting capitalism.

That article, Vadum warns us, was no less than the domestication of a Trotskyite plan to end America as we know it. And, in a theory embraced by his media patron Glenn Beck, the unholy trinity of Frances Piven, Saul Alinsky and Barack Hussein Obama are putting the final nails in the coffin of capitalism using the hammer (somewhere in here there has got to be a sickle) crafted by Piven, a University of Chicago trained Ph.D. who teaches at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York.

There are three problems with this.

First, Vadum assumes that the motivation to register the poor to vote is, consciously or not, a strategy employed in support of the Cloward-Pliven strategy, to force a crisis in the public welfare system that, through the recruitment of more participants than the system can bear, will bring concerted political pressure to adopt a program by which the poor are ensured a guaranteed income from the federal government. 

Whether that was a plausible political strategy at the outset of the Great Society is debatable. Whether  it is a plausible strategy now is even more so. 

What is beyond debate, however, is that there exist valid, independent reasons to register poor voters without preconceptions as to the social policies – existing or posited – which they will ostensibly embrace.

It strikes an odd note, in a country where voting rates in the 2008 presidential election peaked at about fifty-eight percent of eligible voters to suggest that expanding participation in the franchise to the forty-percent of the population who are eligible to vote, but chose not to do so, is not a good in and of itself. 

Low voter turnout  bespeaks a population disengaged from self governance, either by apathy, ignorance, or a lack of understanding as to its own capacity to affect change. If the point of America is to be a functioning, self-governing society, then encouraging those to whom the franchise has been extended to use their vote is a self-evident good.

(Indeed, back-peddling in the face of his critics on Saturday, Vadum assured us that it is neither his intention nor his wish to see anyone disenfranchised.  He seems content to allow the poor to vote in the abstract, provided they don’t actually go ahead and do it.)

Second, Vadum assumes a model of democracy that is wedded to preserving the distributional status quo: the present system, in which one percent of households control over one third of all wealth. 

That system, of course, is neither a social accident nor the result of a free market playing out over time. Rather, it is the result of myriad public policy choices, made over decades, regarding the manner in which income is defined, assets are permitted to accumulate, wealth is taxed, and public welfare priorities are set. Choices that, in America, are theoretically the business of the people.

Vadum rails against the inclusion of the unproductive classes in these decisions presumably because those who do not “contribute” to the wealth of the nation ought have no say in how it is dispersed. Until Friday, I naively believed that the question of limiting the franchise – in law or fact – to freeholders had been settled, but apparently there exist among us people so avaricious as to be willing to reopen that debate, or at least people so servile as to curry favor by reopening it for them. 

After decades of declining wages, aggressive attacks on organized labor, and the systematic export of our industrial base to Red China in the relentless search for a sweeter bottom line, the incapacity of the growing underclass to contribute wealth to the society in which they have been relegated to bystanders can hardy be laid at their poorly shod feet.

Third: Un-American. If patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels, Americanism is the rhetorical destination of choice for demagogues, a shiny bow wrapped gaudily round a box devoid of argument. Vadum can be forgiven for a view of distributive justice that would make Marie Antoinette blush, but I’ll be damned if he can be forgiven for wrapping it up in the flag.

The point of democracy is not to rig the game in favor of oligarchy. The point is to effectuate the will of the people. And when vast numbers of those people have been left by the wayside in an economy that rewards those who move money over those who create value, when their neighborhoods have been decimated by mortgage fraudsters and their cities bankrupted by financial schemers, when their jobs have been given to third world workers who toil like slaves for subsistence wages, when they have been reduced, year by year and cut by cut, from citizens to consumers to factors to be milked and discarded, not in the interest of America, but in the interest of those who have perfected the business of extracting wealth from Americans and concentrating it in ever fewer hands, it is altogether understandable that Matthew Vadum might be a little frightened as to what those inconvenient masses, if shown to the polls, might actually have to say.

Justice Louis Brandeis surfaces on the web these days – a good thing in its own right – to remind us that “We may have democracy, or we may have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we can’t have both.” Until Friday, I would have guessed we could all at least agree on which of those two options counted as Un-American. 

Michael Vadum seems to think otherwise. 

Give him credit. In the battle for democracy, at least we know where he stands.

Cleveland Heights, 4 September 2011