Deval Patrick, Political Speech, and Barack Obama

When juxtaposed to her slowly deflating campaign chances, the Clinton campaign’s attacks on Barack Obama for incorporating language used by his friend Deval Patrick makes perfect sense.  Democrats have a long history of responding to dicey primary prospects by firing torpedoes at one another.  Michael Dukakis successfully derailed Joe Biden’s 1988 campaign with accusations of plagiarism in a speech.  Clinton appears to be attempting a duplication of that feat. 

And it truly would, and should, be a "feat" to derail a popular political campaign with this particular attack.  Because "plagiarism" requires a higher bar than has been demonstrated here.  Sure, Obama did a riff, nearly word for word, from a speech of Deval Patrick’s.  As Deval Patrick has done, with speech language, from Obama even earlier.  As Biden did to Neil Kinnock.  As politicians have done from time immemorial.  As Patrick himself did, to the Founding Fathers and Martin Luther King.  For in none of these cases, did the politician in question start by claiming that any of these words were actually their own.  "Plagiarism" implies that such a claim has been made, and that the claimant is lying.  It implies that the speaking or writing is occurring in a context within one will be judged, and possibly rewarded, for being the actual author of a speech or some writing.

No such claim is occurring in most (if not all) political speech.  And the criteria we use for electing leaders doesn’t specify that their words must be their own.  This isn’t a final exam, and our country isn’t high school.  We don’t have a "plagiarism policy" in the Constitution, and candidates aren’t disqualified from office if they can’t "show their work" and demonstrate that they — and only they — wrote the words they deliver to us in stump speeches and debates. 

Clearly, on the other side of this coin, we voters often do want to assure ourselves that our chosen candidate can "pull their own weight" and isn’t an intellectually empty shell.  As, for example, some recent political leaders we could mention, but won’t.  Barack Obama has cleared this hurdle quite well enough in my mind, and apparently in the minds of an increasing fraction of primary voters. 

So I sincerely hope that Democratic voters in Ohio and Texas view the current flap over Deval Patrick’s speech for what it is:  a last-ditch effort by Senator Clinton to revive a campaign on the decline.  No further confirmation of her unsuitability as our nominee is needed than the sight of her striving to emulate Michael Dukakis in campaign victories — his "plagiarism" fueled defeat of Joe Biden.   Do we really want a Democratic nominee who takes Dukakis as their  example? 

Why I’m Caucusing for Obama

I’ve been mostly silent here on the subject of politics for awhile. There are any number of reasons for this, mostly practical — time, and other priorities. But at least part of my reticence comes from a feeling, in retrospect, like I’ve been holding my breath in anticipation. Not necessarily over the Democrats’ chances this year; I think they’re good (but definitely not a lock, now that McCain is the defacto nominee).

I’ve been holding my breath, I think, hoping that the “practicalities of winning” don’t overwhelm this election far too early. Ever since a mostly-unknown Barack Obama stood up in Boston at the 2004 Democratic National Convention and delivered the most stunning political speech of my lifetime (I’m too young for JFK), there’s been the possibility of idealism this time around.

Politics, at least in my adulthood, has been a grim, pragmatic affair, split by dry-as-dust tinkering in the boiler room of the Great Society welfare state for Democrats, and rigid adherence to a set of litmus tests among Republicans aimed at enforcing ideological purity on tax cuts, guns, and abortion. Politics has been thoroughly computerized, mapped, analyzed like baseball box scores and run by experts on polling, advertising, demographics, and mass fundraising. In other words, it’s a gigantic commercial ecosystem, and both sides increasingly treat it that way.

Obama has seemed, since his declaration became all but inevitable last year, like our generation’s best hope for short-circuiting the wiring of the increasingly robotic Body Politic, and perhaps — even if in small ways — re-envisioning the rules of the game. Perhaps even re-imagining them in ways which cross-cut, and thus defuse, the power of our current definitions of “red” and “blue.”

Naturally, Obama’s relative youth has laid him open, on both sides of the aisle, to those who wonder about his toughness, his experience, his ability to win. Once the primary campaigning got seriously underway, moreover, it has seemed like Obama hasn’t lived up to his 2004 performance. Early debates showed him quiet, almost deferential, and he left us underwhelmed. Polls showed Clinton with an early and massive lead, and one had to wonder, as recently as the holidays, whether it truly was the case that Obama needed more time and experience before running. A series of fairly lackluster press events and appearances have done little to change that impression.

I have to admit that despite never wanting anyone else as nominee, I have fallen prey to all of these species of doubt and skepticism, and probably a few others.

No longer. I don’t know whether Obama will make it and become our nominee, but I think it’s very possible. Nothing magical has happened, except for one thing: he’s made it thus far, all the way through Super Tuesday, and his momentum does seem to be building.

But the uphill climb is seeming more and more like a social movement, and less like a political campaign. Obama’s message of change is largely in the eye of the beholder, but it resonates precisely because much of the voter base today has only experienced the type of politics I described above. We want something more. We’re all slightly cynical about the ability of politics and government to change anything for the better; some of us are much more than slightly cynical. In part, our generation’s growing flirtation with libertarian economics and even politics stems from this disillusionment with government.

Some of that disillusionment is quite proper; we are the inheritors of a New Deal and Great Society that turned out to have noble goals but often methods that were flawed, either in the short or long terms. We are also the inheritors of the social world created when the Supreme Court short-circuited a slowly developing social consensus, as they did with Roe v. Wade, and handed a minority of the nation a rallying cry that would drive judicial nomination and set much of the political landscape for a generation.

That landscape now seems frozen and unalterable. Acquiescence in, and intimate knowledge of, this landscape, is now the mark of a “serious” politician or staffer. An entire industry of political staffers, pollsters, lobbyists, advisors, and of course politicians have a vested interest in that landscape, since knowledge of it is crucial to their employability or electability.

Obama may or may not be serious about changing that landscape, and even if he is successful in beating the odds and securing the nomination, as well as winning the general election, he may only succeed in making small alterations. But the chance — just the chance — that we may see something other than the politics of “culture war,” or the politics of “triangulation” — both manifestations of a politics of cynicism — during our lifetime, makes it well worth supporting his campaign.

We deserve something more from our collective efforts at self-government, and although we might not get it during the next President’s term, a social movement starts somewhere, somehow. Social changes always start out as small, seemingly fragile things, laughed at by the “grownups” who know “how the world works” and label anything but the status quo as “impractical” or simply sheer nonsense. In retrospect, of course, social changes always seem inevitable, when observed through the lens of history, growing seemingly logically out of preceding conditions given our knowledge of the outcome.

In the hazy middle, when those who laughed or ignored it in its early stages are caught short, and forced by the size of the crowds or vote counts to wonder whether a movement or change should be taken seriously, is the crucial moment. The moment when growth could feed on itself, or fizzle out. A moment when a little extra support and encouragement could make all the difference to whether a social movement succeeds in changing the way we think, and act.

That’s why I’m supporting Barack Obama, with a vote on my primary ballot, at the caucuses tomorrow, with donations, and hopefully on November’s ballot. And it’s why I hope you will as well.

My new Macbook Air arrived!

OK. I’m going to gush a bit. Whatever its faults, and however often Apple displays a contempt for customers (and believe me, anytime I want something outside the narrow box they sell, I’ve experienced it), sometimes they connect with the pitch and hit it straight out of the park.

It’s a simple thing these days to do just-in-time manufacturing and shipping from China, and I wasn’t expecting my Macbook Air until Feb. 12. But Apple pulled the shipping date in by a week, and was going to deliver it on Feb. 6th. I was thrilled.

It arrived this morning. Sure, it’s not that complex, but boy, do they know how to make a tech geek happy. The packaging is gorgeous — a coworker said it reminded him of a Tiffany’s box. Even the Apple skeptics in the office — the dyed-in-the-wool, live-in-Redmond-even-though-they-don’t-work-at-Microsoft types, were drooling just a little bit. When they thought I wasn’t looking. They know who they are, and today I can see that their snide comments about Apple and the Cult of Steve are just envy wrapped in sarcasm.

Then you unpack it, and the Air feels both lighter and more substantial than you expect. The screen is terrific, the keyboard very nice, and the overall experience is exactly what I hoped a subnotebook from Apple would be. Even the “Remote CD/DVD” thing works perfectly for installing software — although I bought an external Superdrive, mostly because the remote thing doesn’t work well for playing DVD’s due to the copy protection schemes.

I’m sure after a couple of days or a week of using the machine daily I’ll have the usual list of gripes, wishes, etc. But not today. Today I’m sitting on the sofa, having loaded LaTeX, Office 2008, and a few other essentials, and just enjoying that “first day” experience.

Wow. Bravo Apple.

Screen sharing in OS X Leopard

I have to say, lately I’ve been using screen sharing in Leopard a great deal, to work more flexibly around the house. This isn’t much of a concern in Seattle, since my apartment is small enough that I rarely have to move my laptop at all, but at home on the island, I often find myself wanting to work from the living room or by the windows, but not wanting to interrupt some long process I’ve got running over wired ethernet. So I leave my machine where it is, and use a different machine to work from downstairs via screen sharing. No more copying files around, worrying about having every application on every computer, synchronization issues, etc.

Of course, I used to use VNC for this in a limited fashion prior to Leopard, but the way Apple has integrated this into the Finder networking list and with account security is very nice.

And, when my Macbook Air arrives in February, I can really move around, but without worrying whether I can do “heavy” work given the smaller hard drive and memory footprint, since the Air can be just a light “terminal” for a larger machine.

I know, not problems that most people have, but it’s a nice feature of Leopard that I’m coming to really appreciate.

Sunday Night Windstorm, and What I’m Doing and Studying

I just came in from standing on the deck, under clear skies, a partial moon, and the most amazing windstorm. The moon made visible the big waves crashing on the rocks below me, and the whitecaps out in the channel. It’s been blowing hard all day, without cease, and I’m happy to be inside with a wood stove and food on the stove. A brief respite at home before another stretch at the office. I haven’t quite figured out the optimal amount of time to spend down in Seattle, but I’m pretty sure it’s shorter than I’ve been spending as things heat up at work. Seeing friends and doing things in Seattle is great, but I miss the island. The slow process of meeting people and “becoming a local” has all but stopped as I commute back and forth.

I haven’t written much here since late December, but only because life has reached a fever pitch again, and the brief times I have free away from a full schedule need to be devoted to research and my dissertation, not idle contemplation for my website. But we’re in the thick swamp of an election season, unseasonably early of course, and I haven’t written anything about the candidates, the primaries, the debates, as I did for much of 2004. I can’t promise to get back to regular posting before Super Tuesday, but I hope to soon thereafter. Or as soon as I can get my two projects more firmly underway (one paper, one poster) for the SAA (Society for American Archaeology) meetings in late March in Vancouver. Both are co-authored with Alex Bentley and Carl Lipo, and we’re working on the statistical consequences of expressing formal models of cultural transmission within realistic social networks.

For those unfamiliar with cultural transmission, this is the observation that humans are not born with a hard-coded set of cultural behaviors (in the sense of genetically transmitted) but learn, over the course of child development and throughout life, ways of behaving and believing and thinking through interaction with others in our social groups. In a formal sense, cultural transmission is modeled mathematically through analogues of haploid population genetics models (Wright-Fisher and Moran processes), replicator dynamics and allied models from evolutionary game theory, and the contact and voter models in the study of “interacting particle systems” or spatial stochastic processes by probability theorists and statistical physicists. An open question, whose likely answer is “yes,” is that these methods of modeling cultural learning and transmission are formally equivalent, given appropriate variations of population structure and the focus on deterministic versus stochastic models. But more of that in future posts, hopefully.

Basically, I’m working with some collaborators studying models of social learning and communication, for predictive ensemble or spatial statistical “signatures” in cultural data which are mapped spatially and dated temporally. A “signature” would be a unique pattern of statistical properties which tells us how a given population was structured (in terms of social networks) given the results of how cultural information flowed within the population, and came to be reflected in material objects or artifacts. An example would be a model in which we learn about, and adopt, preferences for songs and music from our social network of friends, but in an unbiased fashion — we occasionally adopt the preferences of a colleague or associate. What statistical properties does this local process of imitation have, when projected into a “global” perspective — statistical patterns within a population, spatial patterns in kinds of data we can map and chart?

Of course, we all know that the model I just described is pretty simplistic. Nobody “just copies” their friends, let alone doing so without any filters, biases, and on a strict “coin flip” or probabilistic basis. But it turns out it sure can look that way when you aggregate the results of many people imitating, choosing, learning, and adopting ideas. So this kind of model is a good “null hypothesis” for a simplistic kind of cultural communication — anything more realistic will have to depart from this simple random model in striking, hopefully unique ways.

Being able to find unique, predictive patterns from more complex models of cultural learning and communication is possible, but not guaranteed — it is easily possible (maybe even likely) that several different kinds of social situations could lead to the same overall patterns at a local, regional, or even global level. We call this problem “equifinality” — the data we have are insufficient to distinguish between several possible processes, so given our models and data, each process is “equally likely” to have caused the observed pattern.

This type of research is what I’ve been engaged in for a long time — at least since 1995, with conference papers, publications, and Carl Lipo’s dissertation research covering some of the results. Now I’m extending our previous work and learning a lot of math, probability, and population genetics in the process. It’s fascinating stuff, but in addition to the job at GridNetworks the work keeps me pretty busy.

This is all by way of explanation for my longish absences from writing something here. I hope to remedy that, as I said, but there’s some serious work between now and then.

Carl Sagan and the “High-Water Mark”

San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world….There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting – on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

Hunter S. Thompson, “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Today is the eleventh anniversary of Carl Sagan’s passing, and like last year many people are writing today to commemorate Sagan and contribute to the second annual Carl Sagan Blog-a-Thon. This is the first of several from me, and one that I’ve been thinking about for awhile.

Not too long ago a friend asked why I still was enamored of the old Cosmos episodes, and periodically went back to watch them. I had to think about it a great deal, because ultimately my friend was right: they’re outdated, and even in their depiction of history are occasionally inaccurate. I keep coming back to an answer, however, which makes me think about Hunter S. Thompson and the quote above.

At least for me, Carl Sagan and his work with Cosmos and planetary exploration represent the “high-water mark” for American scientific culture. Cosmos is redolent with the sense of knowing that we lived in a time when science and democracy and rationalism were winning out over superstition and fear. As Thompson says, not in any military sense, but simply that a particular sensibility would ultimately prevail.

It has not. Not long after Sagan completed the Cosmos series, the Moral Majority (and its descendants, the modern Religious Right) became a major force in American politics, and so-called “postmodernism” became a major force in American scholarship. Today, less than 30 years later, the prestige of science and rationalism are at their lowest in my lifetime. Watching Cosmos, and reading Sagan’s writings are the equivalent, in my view, of seeing the “high water mark” — the place where the wave of mid-20th century secular rationalism finally broke and rolled back.

This isn’t entirely a bad thing. A bit of skepticism is always a good thing. Feyerabend and Arthur Fine bring to the philosophy of science a needed skepticism about the uniqueness of “scientific method” and most of us now view science as a socially conditioned process. But still one whose essential feature is self-correction across the efforts of many. We may have no solid ground to claim that anything we learn is really true, in any ultimate sense, but Popperian falsification still seems to work: we can know when we’re wrong.

But the skepticism of the postmodern critique of “scientism” has crept into policy-making and politics. The shameless manipulation of science and expert testimony under recent (and especially the current) Administration is shocking, and it’s not clear how to reverse this trend. A whole generation of Americans is growing up without much significant training in math and science, which are increasingly viewed as specialities which it’s OK for most people to skip because they’re “not interested in that sort of thing.”

The elevation of personal choice as the sole arbiter of value is a difficult topic in a capitalist democracy (see Michael Sandel on this topic, among other political philosophers), but one thing is clear: we face choices as a country that virtually require us to understand the issues. And it is far from clear that the electorate does understand the evidence on global warming, or peak oil, or biodiversity, or genetic research, to name just a few topics.

So to some extent, I continue to remember Sagan and watch Cosmos as a reminder of what we need to regain, of what we’ve lost in the past 30 years.