There's a lot to like about this Jonathan Chait retrospective on Michael Bloomberg. Chait's main target is the insane idea that Bloomberg could ever have run for president and won. This notion rests on the idea that Bloomberg is a "centrist" when, in fact, his politics are basically the politics of the Democratic Party. If you can articulate the difference between Michael Bloomberg's politics and, say, Chuck Schumer's or Cory Booker's, I'd love to hear it. The idea of Bloomberg as a "centrist" savior rests on the premise that somewhere in the Senate there is liberal version of Ted Cruz.
But there's something else here that's more telling. Chait quotes David Broder asserting that Bloomberg should run because:
... there is a palpable hunger among the public for someone who will attack the problems facing the country -- the war in Iraq, immigration, energy, health care -- and not worry about the politics.
This is an amazing statement, but it's of a piece with Bloomberg's contention that "people aren't good at describing what is in their own interest." There's obviously something to be said for not consulting a poll for every single decision an executive makes. I think when people vote for a president, mayor, or governor, my hope are not simply electing someone who will agree with me 95 percent of the time, but that I am electing someone who reflects their baseline values.
And there are obviously some choices that simply cannot be submitted to popular opinion. Even that sort of prohibition is complicated. We might assume that in 1860, a majority of the public would have supported slavery. But how do we reconcile that with the fact that South Carolina, which initiated the Civil War, was the least democratic state in the old union As early as 1917, a majority of the House and Senate was prepared to pass an anti-lynching bill. Democracy didn't kill the anti-lynching bill, the filibuster did.
When I started writing this post I was going to point out that George W. Bush had plenty of public support for Iraq invasion. The reality is more complicated, and had the truth been known about WMD, public support would have likely plummeted. The idea that "politics" and "public opinion" are nuisances to be trampled upon by the philosopher-kings proceeds from the basic belief that the people are stupid (or easily duped by "powerful interests") and that the obviously correct solution should immediately prevail. You see this kind of anti-democratic instinct in school reform -- Michelle Rhee's contention that she wasn't in the business of "politics," or Bloomberg's appointment of Cathie Black as schools chancellor.
There's something else here also -- there's no real track record. Anti-democrats -- despite their insistence on empiricism -- are often just as addled as the public. For every smoking ban, there's a Cathie Black. Black's appointment was not the result of an infallible algorithm designed to compute the best interest of New York students. It was the result, by Bloomberg's own account, of a desire find someone who "came from out of left field." The appointment was a disaster. But, according to Bloomberg, it's not because he foolishly appointed someone who had no history in education, it's because she was "dumped on in the newspaper from day one." (Powerful interests!) There's always an available excuse for the technocrat.
Likewise, there is no empirical proof that stop and frisk is responsible for New York's drop in crime. But this does not stop Bloomberg from claiming it anyway, then fuming because "nobody" is talking about crime in minority neighborhoods. In fact, minorities have been talking about since the days of "Self-Destruction" (the song is literally called "Self-Destruction.") Disagree? By Bloomberg's lights you are a "racist" who's attempting to divide the city.
Last week in class we read Elizabeth Alexander's wonderful poem "The Venus Hottentot." Reading that piece got me thinking about how tempting it is to adopt the mask of science and empiricism to conceal less noble motivations. Such as ego. When Bloomberg calls Bill De Blasio's campaign "racist" or claims that he should be frisking more black people, I'm not convinced his making a real claim. The content of the words are beside the point. Even as Bloomberg has full-throatedly defended stop and frisk, he's scaled it back. But he can't bear to say that publicly and thus concede a point to those whom he feels are besieging him. Michael Bloomberg's feelings are hurt and he wants to hurt back.
This is not about numbers. There are no numbers that support branding random mosques as "terror enterprises." But for Bloomberg technocracy means the right to tell us that the numbers mean what he says they mean.
The bureau successfully played the long game in both cases.
The story of law enforcement in the Oregon standoff is one of patience.
On the most obvious level, that was reflected in the 41 days that armed militia members occupied the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge near Burns. It took 25 days before the FBI and state police moved to arrest several leaders of the occupation and to barricade the refuge. It took another 15 days before the last of the final occupiers walked out, Thursday morning Oregon time.
Each of those cases involved patience as well: Officers massed on Highway 395 didn’t shoot LaVoy Finicum when he tried to ram past a barricade, nearly striking an FBI agent, though when he reached for a gun in his pocket they finally fired. Meanwhile, despite increasingly hysterical behavior from David Fry, the final occupier, officers waited him out until he emerged peacefully.
Einstein’s gravitational waves rest on a genuinely radical idea.
After decades of anticipation, we have directly detected gravitational waves—ripples in spacetime traveling at the speed of light through the universe. Scientists at LIGO (the Laser Interferometic Gravitational-wave Observatory) have announced that they have measured waves coming from the inspiral of two massive black holes, providing a spectacular confirmation of Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, whose hundredth anniversary was celebrated just last year.
Finding gravitational waves indicates that Einstein was (once again) right, and opens a new window onto energetic events occurring around the universe. But there’s a deeper lesson, as well: a reminder of the central importance of locality, an idea that underlies much of modern physics.
Today’s empires are born on the web, and exert tremendous power in the material world.
Mark Zuckerberg hasn’t had the best week.
First, Facebook’s Free Basics platform was effectively banned in India. Then, a high-profile member of Facebook’s board of directors, the venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, sounded off about the decision to his nearly half-a-million Twitter followers with a stunning comment.
“Anti-colonialism has been economically catastrophic for the Indian people for decades,” Andreessen wrote. “Why stop now?”
After that, the Internet went nuts.
Andreessen deleted his tweet, apologized, and underscored that he is “100 percent opposed to colonialism” and “100 percent in favor of independence and freedom.” Zuckerberg, Facebook’s CEO, followed up with his own Facebook post to say Andreessen’s comment was “deeply upsetting” to him, and not representative of the way he thinks “at all.”
In New Hampshire, he won working class men without college diplomas—and most every other demographic group.
Earlier this year, when Mona Chalabi wanted to describe a Donald Trump voter in The Guardian, she conjured a 45-year-old male named Michael who never attended college, works 9-hour days as an exterminator, and earns $33,000 per year. Trump “is more popular among Americans that are white than those who aren’t, and more popular among Americans with penises than those without,” she wrote. “Often, these white men are also working or middle class and middle-aged.”
The New Hampshire primary didn't contradict that conventional wisdom. The billionaire won among voters who never attended college; the working class; and the middle-aged.
Then again, Trump won almost every other demographic, too.
The exit polls couldn’t be clearer. As Ramesh Ponnuru put it, “They raise questions about what we think we know about the Trump phenomenon.” Since the Granite State is so white, it didn’t test the candidate’s performance among minorities. But Trump proved an ability to best all his rivals among the following groups:
When four American women were murdered during El Salvador’s dirty war, a young U.S. official and his unlikely partner risked their lives to solve the case.
On December 1, 1980, two American Catholic churchwomen—an Ursuline nun and a lay missionary—sat down to dinner with Robert White, the U.S. ambassador to El Salvador. They worked in rural areas ministering to El Salvador’s desperately impoverished peasants, and White admired their commitment and courage. The talk turned to the government’s brutal tactics for fighting the country’s left-wing guerrillas, in a dirty war waged by death squads that dumped bodies in the streets and an army that massacred civilians. The women were alarmed by the incoming Reagan administration’s plans for a closer relationship with the military-led government. Because of a curfew, the women spent the night at the ambassador’s residence. The next day, after breakfast with the ambassador’s wife, they drove to San Salvador’s international airport to pick up two colleagues who were flying back from a conference in Nicaragua. Within hours, all four women would be dead.
The Life of Pablo debuted at Madison Square Garden with a mixture of joyful chaos, careful choreography, and boredom.
If anything’s been made clear in the run-up to Kanye West’s seventh album, it’s that the man is not, in the traditional understanding of the term, a perfectionist. The p-word’s been assigned to him before due to the opulence of his music and precision of his taste: He mixed “Stronger” 50 times in 2007 before he had a version he felt okay about, and he made a fuss about the gilded restroom specifications at his wedding in Versailles. But no one for whom the impression of flawlessness was the goal would let the public see him waffle about his album title and track listing right up to the release date, or promote his fashion line with lo-res JPEGs in his twitter feed, or use that same feed to commit PR suicide by calling Cosby innocent.
Carly Fiorina’s exit from the 2016 race could stifle debate over gender equality across the political spectrum.
When Carly Fiorina dropped out of the presidential race, she took the opportunity to talk about the meaning of feminism—or at least advance her own definition of the term. “A feminist is a woman who lives the life she chooses and uses all her God-given gifts,” Fiorina wrote in a Facebook post on Wednesday. The message was familiar for Fiorina, a Republican candidate who used her most recent moment on the national stage to argue that women in America still face an uneven playing field.
Fiorina’s assertions lent credibility to the idea that gender inequality is not merely a lament of the political left, but a reality to be confronted by Republicans and Democrats. That message opened the door to debate over what kind of policy platform might best improve quality of life for women in America. Now that Fiorina has exited the race, it seems extremely unlikely that any Republican presidential contender will take up the mantle of talking about feminism and the challenges women face. The debate that Fiorina fostered will be far less prominent as a result.
The number of American teens who excel at advanced math has surged. Why?
On a sultry evening last July, a tall, soft-spoken 17-year-old named David Stoner and nearly 600 other math whizzes from all over the world sat huddled in small groups around wicker bistro tables, talking in low voices and obsessively refreshing the browsers on their laptops. The air in the cavernous lobby of the Lotus Hotel Pang Suan Kaew in Chiang Mai, Thailand, was humid, recalls Stoner, whose light South Carolina accent warms his carefully chosen words. The tension in the room made it seem especially heavy, like the atmosphere at a high-stakes poker tournament.
Stoner and five teammates were representing the United States in the 56th International Mathematical Olympiad. They figured they’d done pretty well over the two days of competition. God knows, they’d trained hard. Stoner, like his teammates, had endured a grueling regime for more than a year—practicing tricky problems over breakfast before school and taking on more problems late into the evening after he completed the homework for his college-level math classes. Sometimes, he sketched out proofs on the large dry-erase board his dad had installed in his bedroom. Most nights, he put himself to sleep reading books like New Problems in Euclidean Geometry and An Introduction to Diophantine Equations.
Though not quite as clever as it thinks it is, the Ryan Reynolds vehicle is a reminder that humor and superpowers go together just fine.
In our brave new world of ever-multiplying and cross-pollinating superhero franchises, Ryan Reynolds was the first man to be cast in two different super-roles: playing the supporting character Deadpool in 2009’s X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and then the lead in 2011’s Green Lantern. (He beat Chris Evans, who played the Human Torch and then Captain America, by a nose.) But with his encore turn as the protagonist of Deadpool, Reynolds is now alone in the distinction of having played titular characters from both principal comic-book universes, Marvel (Deadpool) and DC (Green Lantern).* As such, he is a near-perfect test case for the different paths the two companies have chosen in their adaptations from page to screen.