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 cuts-only plan President Trump is expected to unveil Wednesday follows a pattern: The risk associated with higher deficits takes a back seat when it comes with political pain.
“I am the king of debt,” Donald Trump famously boasted during last year’s campaign. On Wednesday, the president is going to set about proving it—but perhaps not in the way he originallymeant.
All indications are that the tax plan the White House is slated to unveil will include what Trump has described as a “massive” cut in the rate that corporations and many small businesses pay to the government. But it will omit the more politically painful choices that Republicans would need to make to offset the correspondingloss of revenue, such as HouseSpeaker Paul Ryan’s proposed tax on imports or the elimination of popular deductions for charitable giving and homeowners. The result is a tax plan that, like the ones Trump offered as a candidate, could add trillions of dollars to the national debt. You can call them tax cuts, but they aren’t tax reform.
It’s a shame that the standard way of learning how to cook is by following recipes. To be sure, they are a wonderfully effective way to approximate a dish as it appeared in a test kitchen, at a star chef’s restaurant, or on TV. And they can be an excellent inspiration for even the least ambitious home cooks to liven up a weeknight dinner. But recipes, for all their precision and completeness, are poor teachers. They tell you what to do, but they rarely tell you why to do it.
This means that for most novice cooks, kitchen wisdom—a unified understanding of how cooking works, as distinct from the notes grandma lovingly scrawled on index-card recipes passed down through the generations—comes piecemeal. Take, for instance, the basic skill of thickening a sauce. Maybe one recipe for marinara advises reserving some of the starchy pasta water, for adding later in case the sauce is looking a little thin. Another might recommend rescuing a too-watery sauce with some flour, and still another might suggest a handful of parmesan. Any one of these recipes offers a fix under specific conditions, but after cooking through enough of them, those isolated recommendations can congeal into a realization: There are many clever ways to thicken a sauce, and picking an appropriate one depends on whether there’s some leeway for the flavor to change and how much time there is until dinner needs to be on the table.
“Somewhere at Google there is a database containing 25 million books and nobody is allowed to read them.”
You were going to get one-click access to the full text of nearly every book that’s ever been published. Books still in print you’d have to pay for, but everything else—a collection slated to grow larger than the holdings at the Library of Congress, Harvard, the University of Michigan, at any of the great national libraries of Europe—would have been available for free at terminals that were going to be placed in every local library that wanted one.
At the terminal you were going to be able to search tens of millions of books and read every page of any book you found. You’d be able to highlight passages and make annotations and share them; for the first time, you’d be able to pinpoint an idea somewhere inside the vastness of the printed record, and send somebody straight to it with a link. Books would become as instantly available, searchable, copy-pasteable—as alive in the digital world—as web pages.
The Dems are trying to take advantage of the president’s tendency to make maximalist claims then retreat from them.
Mock Donald Trump’s legislative ignorance if you will, but for a brief, shining stretch during the past week, he managed to bring about a rare Washington phenomenon: House and Senate Democrats saying nice things about their GOP
counterparts. Publicly. With straight faces. That the president accomplished this entirely by accident makes the feat no less remarkable.
It has been like a scene straight out of a No Labels kumbaya, centrist fantasy: As Congress hammers out a deal to fund the government for the rest of this fiscal year, Democrats have been lauding Republicans for handling negotiations in a thoughtful, productive, bipartisan manner.
“Appropriators are all about getting something done,” a senior Democratic House aide noted approvingly of the process. And with the April 28 deadline looming, he told me, members of both teams “had been chugging along, making progress, doing a really good job of getting past some riders.”
Will you pay more for those shoes before 7 p.m.? Would the price tag be different if you lived in the suburbs? Standard prices and simple discounts are giving way to far more exotic strategies, designed to extract every last dollar from the consumer.
As Christmas approached in 2015, the price of pumpkin-pie spice went wild. It didn’t soar, as an economics textbook might suggest. Nor did it crash. It just started vibrating between two quantum states. Amazon’s price for a one-ounce jar was either $4.49 or $8.99, depending on when you looked. Nearly a year later, as Thanksgiving 2016 approached, the price again began whipsawing between two different points, this time $3.36 and $4.69.
We live in the age of the variable airfare, the surge-priced ride, the pay-what-you-want Radiohead album, and other novel price developments. But what was this? Some weird computer glitch? More like a deliberate glitch, it seems. “It’s most likely a strategy to get more data and test the right price,” Guru Hariharan explained, after I had sketched the pattern on a whiteboard.
The most comprehensive review of evidence on health consequences of caffeine use has just been published.
A Los Angeles news anchor said earlier this month, in response to the announcement that “the world’s strongest coffee” is now available in the United States. The product is called Black Insomnia, a playful nod to apotentially debilitating medical condition that can be caused by the product.
The anchor’s tone took a dramatic decrescendo as she read from the teleprompter: “The site Caffeine Informer says Black Insomnia is one of the ‘most dangerous caffeinated products.’” Her smile faded. “Oh. I’ll have to have this one sparingly.”
Black Insomnia is actually in competition for the title of “world’s strongest coffee.” Another, similar purveyor sells coffee grounds called Death Wish. They come in a black sack with a skull and cross bones. On its Amazon page, Death Wish claims to be “the world’s strongest coffee” and promises its “perfect dark roast will make you the hero of the house or office.”
They’re stuck between corporations trying to extract maximum profits from each flight and passengers who can broadcast their frustration on social media.
Two weeks ago, a man was violently dragged off a United Airlines flight after being told it was overbooked. And late last week, American Airlines suspended a flight attendant after a fight nearly broke out between a passenger and the crew, over a stroller. What did the two incidents have in common? Both stories went viral after passengers’ videos showcased the rotten conditions of flying in coach today. But also, in both cases, it’s not particularly clear that the airline employees caught on camera had many better options.
On the infamous United flight, employees, following protocol, had to call security agents to remove a passenger in Chicago, due to a last-minute need to transport crew to fly out of Louisville the following day. United’s contract of carriage gives employees broad latitude to deny boarding to passengers. On the other hand, it is terrible to force a sitting passenger to get up and de-board a plane. So, the attendants were stuck: Either four people already seated had to leave the plane, or a flight scheduled the next day would have been grounded due to the lack of crew—which would have punished even more paying customers.
The president has softened some of his tough talk toward China and Mexico, transferring it to Canada and disputes over softwood lumber and dairy products.
Donald Trump is not the first U.S. president to tangle with Canada over lumber. In fact, the first U.S. president to do so was the first U.S. president. George Washington’s administration saw a dispute over ownership of valuable forests on the border between New Brunswick and present-day Maine.
So despite Trump’s recent tough talk about the trade relationship with America’s neighbor to the north, his announcement Tuesday morning of new tariffs on Canadian lumber is actually consistent with what U.S. policy has been for decades. Where Trump differs from previous presidents, though, is in very publicly sounding off about a longstanding disagreement. In so doing he has also, apparently, found a new target for his trade-related ire, even as he softens his stances toward previous targets like China and Mexico.
Film, television, and literature all tell them better. So why are games still obsessed with narrative?
A longstanding dream: Video games will evolve into interactive stories, like the ones that play out fictionally on the Star Trek Holodeck. In this hypothetical future, players could interact with computerized characters as round as those in novels or films, making choices that would influence an ever-evolving plot. It would be like living in a novel, where the player’s actions would have as much of an influence on the story as they might in the real world.
It’s an almost impossible bar to reach, for cultural reasons as much as technical ones. One shortcut is an approach called environmental storytelling. Environmental stories invite players to discover and reconstruct a fixed story from the environment itself. Think of it as the novel wresting the real-time, first-person, 3-D graphics engine from the hands of the shooter game. In Disneyland’s Peter Pan’s Flight, for example, dioramas summarize the plot and setting of the film. In the 2007 game BioShock, recorded messages in an elaborate, Art Deco environment provide context for a story of a utopia’s fall. And in What Remains of Edith Finch, a new game about a girl piecing together a family curse, narration is accomplished through artifacts discovered in an old house.
Photographs from the past few years of North Koreans seen just over the border from parts of China and South Korea
With much of the world’s attention once again focused on North Korea, many international photojournalists are doing their best to cover the reclusive country. However, North Korea still tightly restricts the movements of visiting journalists within its borders, and controls what can be photographed. For photographers looking in from just over the border, there may be more freedom of movement, but the subjects in North Korea are aware they are being watched, with many looking back—sometimes giving a smile and wave, or sometimes throwing rocks. Gathered here are photographs from the past few years of North Koreans seen just over the border from parts of China and South Korea.