What if digital tools make it easier to destabilize governments, but not to build new ones?
The past several days have been hard ones for those who cheered the fall of Hosni Mubarak less than a year ago. More than 30 people have been killed protesting the continued rule of the military council, and the Egyptian cabinet has tendered its resignation. Tahrir Square, once a symbol of the possibilities for a new Egypt, has now become a stage for the revolution's unraveling. These developments (and others since last February) have provoked a simple thought: What if the combination of social media and mobile devices does make revolutions more likely, but do not in turn make republican governing any more possible? What then?
Of course, it's not been settled that these new communications technologies do make revolutions any easier. It never will be. The ingredients for a successful revolution -- frustration, leadership, organization, and luck -- are difficult if not impossible to quantify. Scholars will someday count the numbers of tweets retweeted or videos "liked" on Facebook, and we will still be no closer to knowing what the effects were, sum told. But if you think that there's even the possibility that the existence of social media makes autocracies less stable, you have to grapple with the possibility that the indirect result of these technologies is the kind of chaos we're seeing now in Egypt, a kind of chaos that emerges between revolution and government.
The challenges of organizing a mass social movement are in part those of communication: How do you coordinate large groups of people? How do you inspire anger against a regime? Social media can help with these problems, by spreading logistical information or videos of state brutality. But the problems of designing a new government and governing are different. What institutions should we have? Which rights should we protect in our constitution? How do we ensure fair and safe voting? How do we exorcise corruption? It's not clear that social media can help with those sorts of questions.
There are, of course, plenty of efforts to use social media to help improve governing. Here in America, the Obama administration has, for example, created its own e-petitions site, where people can create their own petitions and the White House promises to review any that receive more than 25,000 signatures in 30 days. But, if it's any indication of this project's success so far, one of the most popular petitions right now is a request to "actually take these petitions seriously instead of just using them as an excuse to pretend you are listening." New York City is also using some online tools as part of an ambitious participatory budgeting effort.
Another prominent example but more successful of an attempt to adapt social media for better governing is the open-source project Ushahidi, begun in Kenya, that enables real-time mapping and coordination for post-disaster relief. It has been used in places such as Haiti, Japan, and the Congo. But while it has proved life-saving in those situations, that purpose is fundamentally different than the questions Egypt now faces. Egypt is not trying to run a government program; it's trying to figure out what kind of government to have.
Perhaps the best example of a country trying to use social media for something on that scale is Iceland's efforts to crowdsource a new constitution, which would then have to be approved by an elected body. By "crowdsource" Iceland meant not a wiki where everyone could contribute but a process by which a constitutional committee solicited feedback online and posted updates on YouTube. A draft of the proposal was released in July but is still awaiting approval.
These projects are all experiments, ones we can hopewill open up new ways for governing to be more representative, fair, and honest. But as of yet they are in their earliest stages. And even with well-designed tools, e-governing faces great challenges in places where computer literacy is not widespread.
The point is this: Revolution is a completely different thing than state building. Revolutions may be fed by social media's power to fuel emotional response and organizing, but state-building does not require a fervor. It requires smart decision-making, leadership, and perhaps even idealism and vision, things no tool in the world can provide.
The American republic was long safeguarded by settled norms, now shattered by the rise of Donald Trump.
A long time ago, more than 20 years in fact, the Wall Street Journal published a powerful, eloquent editorial, simply headlined: “No Guardrails.”
In our time, the United States suffers every day of the week because there are now so many marginalized people among us who don't understand the rules, who don't think that rules of personal or civil conduct apply to them, who have no notion of self-control.
Twenty years later, that same newspaper is edging toward open advocacy in favor of Donald Trump, the least self-controlled major-party candidate for high office in the history of the republic. And as he forged his path to the nomination, he snapped through seven different guardrails, revealing how brittle the norms that safeguard the American republic had grown.
Outrage over transgender bathroom use is just the beginning of a long conflict over what it means to be men and women.
In April, the state of Mississippi did something unusual. It made the definition of man and woman a matter of law: “Male (man) or female (woman) refer to an individual’s immutable biological sex as objectively determined by anatomy and genetics at time of birth.”
The Magnolia state is not alone in grappling with the meaning of gender and sex. This spring, after North Carolina’s legislature ordered public agencies and local school boards to allow people to use only public bathrooms that correspond to their biological sex at birth, the U.S. Department of Justice announced it is suing the state. A similar bathroom bill was passed and vetoed earlier this spring in South Dakota. And the people of Washington will vote on a bathrooms ballot initiative in November.
Science says lasting relationships come down to—you guessed it—kindness and generosity.
Every day in June, the most popular wedding month of the year, about 13,000 American couples will say “I do,” committing to a lifelong relationship that will be full of friendship, joy, and love that will carry them forward to their final days on this earth.
Except, of course, it doesn’t work out that way for most people. The majority of marriages fail, either ending in divorce and separation or devolving into bitterness and dysfunction. Of all the people who get married, only three in ten remain in healthy, happy marriages, as psychologist Ty Tashiro points out in his book The Science of Happily Ever After, which was published earlier this year.
Social scientists first started studying marriages by observing them in action in the 1970s in response to a crisis: Married couples were divorcing at unprecedented rates. Worried about the impact these divorces would have on the children of the broken marriages, psychologists decided to cast their scientific net on couples, bringing them into the lab to observe them and determine what the ingredients of a healthy, lasting relationship were. Was each unhappy family unhappy in its own way, as Tolstoy claimed, or did the miserable marriages all share something toxic in common?
A new report estimates nearly 46 million people live in contemporary slavery, more than half of them in five countries.
This year, researchers surveyed residents of 15 states in India and asked them what it is like to live in conditions of contemporary slavery—the term used to describe human trafficking, forced labor, sexual exploitation, and other forms of illegal enslavement in the 21st century.
“I was physically and sexually assaulted when I was working in the field. I had also threat on my life and on my family,” said one unnamed person who was in bonded labor, a type of exploitation in which people are forced to work to repay debt, real or assumed. Another person, who was made a street beggar, said: “Though I am begging I am not paid a single amount. I have to deposit all to them. I am deprived of food and good sleep.”
Oregon, one of the whitest states in the union, also has one of the most generous safety nets. Is that a coincidence or something more troubling?
SALEM, Oregon—In much of the country, poor people are finding that there are fewer and fewer government benefits available to help them stay afloat. But here in this progressive corner of the Northwest, the poor can access an extensive system of state-sponsored supports and services.
In Oregon, a higher share of poor families is on welfare (now called TANF, or Temporary Aid to Needy Families) than in most states. The state has some of the highest food-stamp uptake in the country. It subsidizes childcare for working parents, asking the poorest of them to contribute as little as $27 a month. It helps people get off of welfare by linking them to employment and paying their wages for up to six months, and then allows them to continue to receive food stamps as they transition to higher wages. Families can be on welfare for up to 60 months, as opposed to 24 months in many other states, and once the parents are cut off due to time limits, their children can still continue to receive aid.
For 50 years, Bassick High School in Bridgeport, Connecticut has been neglected and underfunded—despite being just a few miles from extreme wealth.
BRIDGEPORT, Conn.—The inequalities that afflict Connecticut’s largest city have been evident since 1961, when the veteran journalist Nancy Hendrick wrote a blistering column in the Bridgeport Sunday Herald.
“[F]or quite a few years now not enough people in Washington have cared what's happening here—and in a hundred other Bridgeports across the country,” she wrote. “What frustrates us is that in this crowded, unplanned, unlovely city, there is so much to be done that no one can tell where to start.”
Later that week, The Connecticut Post reported that when state educators came to Bridgeport to evaluate Bassick High School, they praised the teachers but balked at the city’s lack of financial support—noting that students were forced to pay for their own books, science equipment, globes, and maps.
He lives near San Francisco, makes more than $50,000 per year, and is voting for the billionaire to fight against political correctness.
For several days, I’ve been corresponding with a 22-year-old Donald Trump supporter. He is white, has a bachelor’s degree, and earns $50,000 to $60,000 per year.
He lives near San Francisco.
“I recently became engaged to my Asian fiancée who is making roughly 3 times what I make, and I am completely supportive of her and proud she is doing so well,” he wrote. “We’ve both benefitted a lot from globalization. We are young, urban, and have a happy future planned. We seem molded to be perfect young Hillary supporters,” he observed, “but we're not. In 2016, we're both going for Trump.”
At first, we discussed Bill Clinton.
Last week, I wrote an article asking why Trump supporters aren’t bothered that their candidate called Clinton a shameful abuser of women who may well be a rapist. After all, Trump used to insist that Clinton was a victim of unfair treatment during his sex scandals. Either Trump spent years defending a man that he believed to be a sexual predator, even welcoming him as a guest at his wedding, or Trump is now cynically exploiting a rape allegation that he believes to be false.
The Star Wars franchise has a long history of mixed pre-release reviews and complicated post-production.
“The reports have been so gratuitous that I have tended to take them with a grain of salt,” wrote Peter S. Myers, an executive at 20th Century Fox, in a 1976 memo to his bosses about the buzz on a movie in production called Star Wars. One studio head had seen a cut with no music or special effects and “just flipped, claiming it is the best movie he has ever seen.” Some other early viewers, according to Myers, raved “that the picture has a look never seen on the screen before.” His conclusion: “Opinion makers and the public will be electrified and it is quite possible Star Wars will emerge the all time box-office champion.”
This prescient document about the 1977 space opera that did end up smashing box-office records comes to mind when reading about the recent rumors surrounding Rogue One, the Star Wars film scheduled for release in December 2016. Page Sixreports that an early cut of the film isn’t testing well, and Disney has ordered four weeks of reshoots in July. Headlines with the words “crisis,” “bad,” and “panic” have ensued.
This election will widen the distance between the class and racial composition of each party’s core of support.
One of the driving forces of modern American politics has been the kaleidoscopic reshaping of the electorate, as minorities have steadily increased their share of the vote while whites—particularly those without advanced education—have declined. But these trends have affected the two parties in strikingly different ways, likely to further diverge in 2016.
As the first chart shows, the change in the overall electorate has been steady—and profound. Since Ronald Reagan’s landslide reelection in 1984, working-class whites—defined as those whites without a college degree—have plummeted from around three-fifths of all voters in presidential elections to just over one-third in 2012. The share of the vote cast by whites with a college degree increased from just over one-fourth in 1984 to slightly more than one-third in the 1992 election (Bill Clinton’s first victory) and has largely stabilized there since.
A real-time chronicle of Donald Trump’s unpresidential statements.
People will look back on this era in our history, to see what was known about Donald Trump while Americans were deciding whether to choose him as president. Here’s a running chronicle from James Fallows on the ways in which Trump has been unpresidential in an unprecedented way, and of the evidence available to voters as they make their choice. (If you’d like to flag examples to include, please let us know.)