Showing posts with label noam chomsky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label noam chomsky. Show all posts

Those Who Are Tardy Do Not Get Fruit Cup

Does Jesus haz a sad? This is being passed around on Facebook today:
Jesus: Santa.
Santa: Yes?
Jesus: I'm sad.
Santa: Why are you sad? It's Christmas right? It's your birthday!
Jesus: Yeah. That's the point
Santa: Why?
Jesus: Because whenever its Christmas the kids only wait for you and not me! They only celebrate Christmas because of you! Why Santa, why not Jesus? -Dec. 25 is for Jesus not for Santa. (Repost if You Believe in Jesus !) P.S He Knows You Looked -deny me in front your friends and I will deny you in front of my Father.
Maybe if Jesus brought presents every year, instead of loitering around in Heaven? Supposedly he promised to come on clouds of glory, but he's almost two thousand years late. And you know what that means. Stuff like this is a reminder of the sheer tackiness of grass-roots Christian culture, which is why I'm posting it here and saying snotty things about it. If Christian parents want to put more stress on Jesus at Christmas time, nobody is stopping them that I can see, so they should stop whining and get to it. It's not even incompatible with using the Santa myth: there's room at Christmas for both, and most Christians seem to be able to handle that.

(Something else I just noticed about that exchange: despite the Christian doctrine of kenosis, which teaches that Jesus gave himself selflessly for us, in much popular Christian lore -- which includes parts of the gospels -- everything is always about him. Aw, gee, Santa, I'm not the center of attention. Not a very good role model, in my opinion.)

In the past couple of weeks an elementary school teacher got in trouble for telling her students that Santa Claus doesn't exist. I didn't notice any hardcore Christians coming to their defense by pointing out whose birthday Christmas really is. I did see people complaining that kids should be allowed to believe in Santa for as long as possible, like this person. Now, I don't believe that it was the teacher's job to disabuse her students of this popular myth, but the controversy made me ask myself again what I would do around Christmas time if I had children.

Back for a moment to the mom I linked before. Before she became a parent she vowed she'd never inflict Santa Claus on her children.
And then my kid turned 2. It was Christmas and her eyes lit up with love for Santa, and all of a sudden, I was hooked on the magic and the innocence of her belief.
I started to ask myself how her 2-year-old learned about Santa in the first place, but given the ubiquity of Santa in the media and malls at this time of year, I suppose it's obvious enough. Still, all parents have to explain to their children why they don't go along with everything they see around them: why they're Christian instead of Jewish, or Jewish instead of Christian, or atheist instead of any of the above.

Wouldn't it be possible, and workable, to give your children gifts under the tree and explain that we give presents to be people because we love them and want to share with them, because we know how good it feels to get presents from people who love us? Is that too abstract for a two-year-old? I've never been responsible for the upbringing of a child, so I don't know. But it seems like a better way to me, because then, instead of encouraging the idea that you can make a list of things you want and a magical stranger will bring them to you, you could foster the idea that giving presents to others is fun and satisfying -- and that's why you'll get presents yourself. It's all part of teaching kids to share, and to express love and caring for others. In the end, it's what you must do anyway. And if giving and receiving gifts are a pleasant and meaningful human practice, as I believe, then it shouldn't be a chore to teach it. I would think it one of the more satisfying parts of being a parent.

I also don't see any good reason to tell children a lie that you will eventually have to turn around and admit is a lie. Adults are too fond of lying to children anyway, because they're smaller and defenseless and it doesn't count. But it does.

And if anyone still believes in Santa Claus, there's always this, which seems to be described here. (It may or not really fit, but I've been wanting to link to it so I can find it later.) But come to think of it, it does fit very well. It's exactly how many adults react to Noam Chomsky, as a mean old man who delights in telling them there's no Santa Claus and ruining their beautiful innocence.

Those Who Are Tardy Do Not Get Fruit Cup

Does Jesus haz a sad? This is being passed around on Facebook today:
Jesus: Santa.
Santa: Yes?
Jesus: I'm sad.
Santa: Why are you sad? It's Christmas right? It's your birthday!
Jesus: Yeah. That's the point
Santa: Why?
Jesus: Because whenever its Christmas the kids only wait for you and not me! They only celebrate Christmas because of you! Why Santa, why not Jesus? -Dec. 25 is for Jesus not for Santa. (Repost if You Believe in Jesus !) P.S He Knows You Looked -deny me in front your friends and I will deny you in front of my Father.
Maybe if Jesus brought presents every year, instead of loitering around in Heaven? Supposedly he promised to come on clouds of glory, but he's almost two thousand years late. And you know what that means. Stuff like this is a reminder of the sheer tackiness of grass-roots Christian culture, which is why I'm posting it here and saying snotty things about it. If Christian parents want to put more stress on Jesus at Christmas time, nobody is stopping them that I can see, so they should stop whining and get to it. It's not even incompatible with using the Santa myth: there's room at Christmas for both, and most Christians seem to be able to handle that.

(Something else I just noticed about that exchange: despite the Christian doctrine of kenosis, which teaches that Jesus gave himself selflessly for us, in much popular Christian lore -- which includes parts of the gospels -- everything is always about him. Aw, gee, Santa, I'm not the center of attention. Not a very good role model, in my opinion.)

In the past couple of weeks an elementary school teacher got in trouble for telling her students that Santa Claus doesn't exist. I didn't notice any hardcore Christians coming to their defense by pointing out whose birthday Christmas really is. I did see people complaining that kids should be allowed to believe in Santa for as long as possible, like this person. Now, I don't believe that it was the teacher's job to disabuse her students of this popular myth, but the controversy made me ask myself again what I would do around Christmas time if I had children.

Back for a moment to the mom I linked before. Before she became a parent she vowed she'd never inflict Santa Claus on her children.
And then my kid turned 2. It was Christmas and her eyes lit up with love for Santa, and all of a sudden, I was hooked on the magic and the innocence of her belief.
I started to ask myself how her 2-year-old learned about Santa in the first place, but given the ubiquity of Santa in the media and malls at this time of year, I suppose it's obvious enough. Still, all parents have to explain to their children why they don't go along with everything they see around them: why they're Christian instead of Jewish, or Jewish instead of Christian, or atheist instead of any of the above.

Wouldn't it be possible, and workable, to give your children gifts under the tree and explain that we give presents to be people because we love them and want to share with them, because we know how good it feels to get presents from people who love us? Is that too abstract for a two-year-old? I've never been responsible for the upbringing of a child, so I don't know. But it seems like a better way to me, because then, instead of encouraging the idea that you can make a list of things you want and a magical stranger will bring them to you, you could foster the idea that giving presents to others is fun and satisfying -- and that's why you'll get presents yourself. It's all part of teaching kids to share, and to express love and caring for others. In the end, it's what you must do anyway. And if giving and receiving gifts are a pleasant and meaningful human practice, as I believe, then it shouldn't be a chore to teach it. I would think it one of the more satisfying parts of being a parent.

I also don't see any good reason to tell children a lie that you will eventually have to turn around and admit is a lie. Adults are too fond of lying to children anyway, because they're smaller and defenseless and it doesn't count. But it does.

And if anyone still believes in Santa Claus, there's always this, which seems to be described here. (It may or not really fit, but I've been wanting to link to it so I can find it later.) But come to think of it, it does fit very well. It's exactly how many adults react to Noam Chomsky, as a mean old man who delights in telling them there's no Santa Claus and ruining their beautiful innocence.

The Production of Ignorance

I'm almost caught up on topics I've wanted to write about, though some have just slid away and been forgotten. This one will almost bring me up to date. For this week.

Last Sunday one Nathan Jurgenson published an article on Salon claiming that Noam Chomsky is "wrong about Twitter." His chief source was an interview Chomsky gave to a fanboy blogger last March, though he did link to a 1997 article by Chomsky on the mainstream media and to the Wikipedia page covering Manufacturing Consent, which Chomsky coauthored with the economist and media analyst Ed Herman. A lot of people tend to forget Herman's contribution. (My ghod, Herman is three years older than Chomsky; for some reason I took it for granted that he was the younger of the two.)

So, what does Chomsky get wrong about Twitter? Quoth Jurgenson,
“Text messaging, Twitter, that sort of thing […] is extremely rapid, very shallow communication,” he said to interviewer Jeff Jetton. Chomsky said. “[I] think it erodes normal human relations. It makes them more superficial, shallow, evanescent.” Chomsky expanded on this point in another interview last December with Figure/Ground Communication, a site devoted to technology and society.

“Well, let’s take, say, Twitter,” he said. “It requires a very brief, concise form of thought and so on that tends toward superficiality and draws people away from real serious communication […] It is not a medium of a serious interchange.”

Maybe I should not read too much into these statements, but “off-the-cuff” remarks often reveal much more than we might assume. They illuminate Chomsky’s larger view of media and, most importantly, highlight the larger trend of established first-world intellectuals dismissing digital communications as less deep or worthwhile than the means of communication that they prefer.

A number of commenters, including me, jumped all over Jurgenson's claims. Some appealed to authority (How dare a young upstart like you criticize an honored thinker like Chomsky?); others bitched about "relativism" and the decline of punctuation in our post-modern society. Several pointed to other "off-the-cuff remarks" Chomsky made in another interview Jurgenson cited: "... in the existing society – which has very high concentrations of power – then access to social media can be a positive force. It has negative aspects too in my opinion, but in general it is fairly positive." Chomsky's well aware of the uses of the Internet generally and of social media in particular; he's been talking about them for years in connection with political organizing, as far back as the 90s if I remember right.

Nothing Jurgenson says really answers, let alone refutes, Chomsky's negative remarks about Twitter. He cites claims that "nonwhites are much more likely to connect to the Web, communicate and create content on mobile phones than are whites." Maybe so, but this says nothing about the quality of nonwhites' communication using that technology, unless Jurgenson is assuming that nonwhites are naturally, automatically deeper than whites. But even that is dignifying him too much; Jurgenson is mainly concerned to show that Chomsky is old and white, so he couldn't possibly understand what the cool young people are doing with the new media. And Tahrir Square! The Arab Spring!
In fact, in the debate about whether rapid and social media really are inherently less deep than other media, there are compelling arguments for and against. Yes, any individual tweet might be superficial, but a stream of tweets from a political confrontation like Tahrir Square, a war zone like Gaza or a list of carefully-selected thinkers makes for a collection of expression that is anything but shallow. Social media is like radio: It all depends on how you tune it.
"In fact," Chomsky did not say that "rapid and social media are inherently less deep than other media." He explicitly said that they have positive uses. Nor does Jurgenson offer any evidence that "a stream of tweets from a political confrontation like Tahrir Square" would be deep. He seems to assume that they must be, because Tahrir Square was like, world-historic and fateful and people-of-colorful. I suppose that the tweets that came from Tahrir Square were on the order of "Mom, I'm safe, I'll be home by midnight," "The police are coming from over there, so we're all moving over here," "Where are you?" "We need more people to help fight against Mubarak's thugs." Such communication is valuable, human, moving, important, but it isn't deep. How much discussion of aims and goals and methods in the Arab Spring has taken place via Twitter, and how much was done face to face in the crowds? If social media were so world-changingly effective, there would have been no need to gather in Tahrir Square at all -- the revolution could have been virtual. Jurgenson not only misunderstands Chomsky, he misunderstands social media.

I have my own doubts about some of Chomsky's remarks. He does, as I've noticed before, have little appreciation for popular culture, which has more to do with his science-nerd temperament than anything else. But from what I've read, most human use of language isn't deep, even when it's face to face. But again, that doesn't make it less valuable. We use language as a form of grooming; that may be how it first evolved. "Hi! How are you? I'm so glad to see you! What's new? Have you heard from your daughter? I love you, mommy! Are you there? Yes, I'm here," and so on. Probably very little language use, comparatively speaking, has been for the purpose of writing philosophy or science or great literature. If most text messages and tweets are this sort of grooming, that doesn't count against them.

A more serious criticism of electronic communication media, and from what Chomsky says I think it's what really concerns him, is that it's a tool for the atomization of the populace, separating us from each other, which is what the rulers want. (He refers in the interview to the value of the local post office as a community gathering place, though the gathering was probably as much for mutual grooming, in the sense I just mentioned, as for exchanging information. Once more: that doesn't mean it wasn't important.) I've argued before that individualism, far from producing bold nonconformists who will stand up to authority, produces isolates who are easily beaten back into line. It's those 'primitive' collectivist societies that produce people who overthrow dictatorships and stand up to water cannons. Occupy Wall Street, for all that it uses electronic communication media, is built on collective, face-to-face interaction, and if it succeeds, it will be because of that, not because of Twitter. (Like many people, Jurgenson seems to think that electronic / digital / instant communication is the point of activism; but for activists such communication is a medium -- not an end but a means for bringing people together face-to-face.)

I've also noticed that most of the young computer-savvy people I've known aren't really that computer-savvy at all. Yes, they grew up with the damn things, so they're comfortable with them, but that's not a sign of greater intelligence or advanced consciousness. (There's a lot of essentialism in the celebration of the various computer generations.) But they learned only what they needed to know: how to work a game controller, how to log in to Facebook or Myspace, how to compose a message in textspeak. As a result they are stunned when they find out that their Facebook page or e-mail or text messages aren't private. (Wait a minute, isn't it totally a federal crime to open someone's e-mail, just like snailmail? That is so gay.) They know how to upload a memory card full of blurred party photos to Facebook, but it never occurs to them to edit them, let alone that the picture of them deepthroating a beerbong might be seen by their Mom or a potential employer. They know how to Google themselves and Rick Santorum (giggle), but not how to check the authenticity of that awesome Ghandi [sic] quotation they saw the other day. Just about everybody I worked with, regardless of their age, was amazed when I closed the timecard program's window with Alt-F4 instead of using the mouse. Keyboard equivalents? Who knew? Only us old farts, I guess.

Jurgenson, who incidentally is "a PhD student in Sociology at the University of Maryland", concludes:
Chomsky, a politically progressive linguist, should know better than to dismiss new forms of language-production that he does not understand as “shallow.” This argument, whether voiced by him or others, risks reducing those who primarily communicate in this way as an “other,” one who is less fully human and capable. This was Foucault’s point: Any claim to knowledge is always a claim to power. We might ask Chomsky today, when digital communications are disqualified as less deep, who benefits?
First of all, Twitter and e-mail are not "new forms of language-production": they're media for transmitting language that has already been produced. Jurgenson is just waving around technical sounding jargon he doesn't understand. Second and more important, Chomsky hasn't "disqualified" anything. Certainly he hasn't said that the messages that can be sent with these media are unimportant, let alone that the people who send those messages aren't important or shouldn't be taken seriously.

One commenter on Jurgenson's piece essayed a backhanded defense of Chomsky thusly:
Well, okay, granted, Chomsky didn't know in March that the Arab Spring and OWS were going to happen. But couldn't a man with his understanding of communications have foreseen uses like that for Twitter and texting?
Chomsky didn't have to foresee such uses. The people who are out of touch are those who think that the use of cellphones and texting to coordinate demonstrations was invented in Egypt in January 2011. As I noted above, Chomsky has been fielding questions about the uses of the Internet for political organizing for at least a decade. Not that that has anything to do with anyone's "understanding of communications," which is something else: it has to do with knowledge of current and recent events. (Chomsky's linguistic work has little to do with the theory of communication anyway, it's a different area of the field.) The smartalecks who are putting down Chomsky here are not nearly as smart as they like to think; but that's usually true of self-appointed elites. With friends like this commenter, who needs enemas?

Foregoing the shift key for some reason or other, Jurgenson made at least one reply to the comments:
as i stated in the article, and something the vast of the commentators missed, i'm not really debating if digital communications are shallow, but instead using the claim to dismiss them as a lesser form of communications. so, i think we agree. but, as we both know, these claims of depthlessness are so often coupled with viewing the "shallow" form as lesser. and all i am pointing out is that claim to knowledge is a claim to power.
The writer Nick Carr answered wryly:
Hmm. What are you saying here - that the bottom-up horde of commenters lacks the depth to read you correctly? That sounds like you're making a top-down claim to knowledge, and hence to power. Or am I misreading your comment?
Jurgenson didn't answer that one, but Carr is right: Jurgenson is playing games that have more to do with power struggles in academia and 'disqualifying' one's opponents and competitors than with serious discourse. He cites Foucault in his article, but I suspect it's a safe bet he's never read Gayatri Spivak's ovarian essay "Can the Subaltern Speak?", which among other things catches Foucault in his own colonialist toils. I mean, honestly, Nate, Foucault is like so Seventies -- Eighties, if you can't read him in French.

Jurgenson also linked to his fellow blogger and "cyborg" (?) P.J. Rey, who's even more fatuous than he. Rey wrote a defense of Jurgenson's claim to knowledge and power by accusing others of making claims to knowledge and power:
Jurgenson offered an epistemological critique of Chomsky, arguing that Chomsky’s dismissal of social media as superficial fits a long-standing pattern of affluent white academics maintaining their privileged position in society by rejecting media that is accessible to non-experts. Jurgenson pointedly asks “who benefits when what you call “normal” human relationships get to be considered more “deep” and meaningful?” Chomsky is seemingly ignorant to the use of Twitter and other networks in shaping the Arab Spring and the #Occupy movement; or the fact that young people are voraciously sharing and consuming important news stories through these same networks; or that Blacks and Hispanics were early adopters of smartphones; or that gay men have been pioneers in geo-locative communication. In many cases, historically-disadvantaged groups have used social media technology to find opportunities previously foreclosed to them. For these folks, social media is hardly trivial.
An epistemological critique? Whoa, the demons also believe, and tremble! Since everything Rey writes here is irrelevant at best and false at worst, as I've already shown, there's no need to rebut it at length. Of course Chomsky "is seemingly ignorant of the use of Twitter and other networks in shaping the Arab Spring and the #Occupy movement," because he's totally old and gnarly and disqualifies the struggles of the young and hip -- which is why he's often spoken about them. "... or that gay men have been pioneers in geo-locative communication"; given Chomsky's temperamental aversion to discourse on sexuality, I think he can be spared a Powerpoint presentation on Grindr for finding hot man2man Action. Once again, Rey exhibits the worst of the academic tendency to mistake jargon for substance, and the medium for the message. (Isn't McLuhan passe by now? I seem to recall Raymond Williams demolishing him somewhere; I'll have to check.) With fearless epistemological critics like Jurgenson and Rey, Wall Street and the Corporate Consensus can rest easy. Luckily, they're irrelevant.

The Production of Ignorance

I'm almost caught up on topics I've wanted to write about, though some have just slid away and been forgotten. This one will almost bring me up to date. For this week.

Last Sunday one Nathan Jurgenson published an article on Salon claiming that Noam Chomsky is "wrong about Twitter." His chief source was an interview Chomsky gave to a fanboy blogger last March, though he did link to a 1997 article by Chomsky on the mainstream media and to the Wikipedia page covering Manufacturing Consent, which Chomsky coauthored with the economist and media analyst Ed Herman. A lot of people tend to forget Herman's contribution. (My ghod, Herman is three years older than Chomsky; for some reason I took it for granted that he was the younger of the two.)

So, what does Chomsky get wrong about Twitter? Quoth Jurgenson,
“Text messaging, Twitter, that sort of thing […] is extremely rapid, very shallow communication,” he said to interviewer Jeff Jetton. Chomsky said. “[I] think it erodes normal human relations. It makes them more superficial, shallow, evanescent.” Chomsky expanded on this point in another interview last December with Figure/Ground Communication, a site devoted to technology and society.

“Well, let’s take, say, Twitter,” he said. “It requires a very brief, concise form of thought and so on that tends toward superficiality and draws people away from real serious communication […] It is not a medium of a serious interchange.”

Maybe I should not read too much into these statements, but “off-the-cuff” remarks often reveal much more than we might assume. They illuminate Chomsky’s larger view of media and, most importantly, highlight the larger trend of established first-world intellectuals dismissing digital communications as less deep or worthwhile than the means of communication that they prefer.

A number of commenters, including me, jumped all over Jurgenson's claims. Some appealed to authority (How dare a young upstart like you criticize an honored thinker like Chomsky?); others bitched about "relativism" and the decline of punctuation in our post-modern society. Several pointed to other "off-the-cuff remarks" Chomsky made in another interview Jurgenson cited: "... in the existing society – which has very high concentrations of power – then access to social media can be a positive force. It has negative aspects too in my opinion, but in general it is fairly positive." Chomsky's well aware of the uses of the Internet generally and of social media in particular; he's been talking about them for years in connection with political organizing, as far back as the 90s if I remember right.

Nothing Jurgenson says really answers, let alone refutes, Chomsky's negative remarks about Twitter. He cites claims that "nonwhites are much more likely to connect to the Web, communicate and create content on mobile phones than are whites." Maybe so, but this says nothing about the quality of nonwhites' communication using that technology, unless Jurgenson is assuming that nonwhites are naturally, automatically deeper than whites. But even that is dignifying him too much; Jurgenson is mainly concerned to show that Chomsky is old and white, so he couldn't possibly understand what the cool young people are doing with the new media. And Tahrir Square! The Arab Spring!
In fact, in the debate about whether rapid and social media really are inherently less deep than other media, there are compelling arguments for and against. Yes, any individual tweet might be superficial, but a stream of tweets from a political confrontation like Tahrir Square, a war zone like Gaza or a list of carefully-selected thinkers makes for a collection of expression that is anything but shallow. Social media is like radio: It all depends on how you tune it.
"In fact," Chomsky did not say that "rapid and social media are inherently less deep than other media." He explicitly said that they have positive uses. Nor does Jurgenson offer any evidence that "a stream of tweets from a political confrontation like Tahrir Square" would be deep. He seems to assume that they must be, because Tahrir Square was like, world-historic and fateful and people-of-colorful. I suppose that the tweets that came from Tahrir Square were on the order of "Mom, I'm safe, I'll be home by midnight," "The police are coming from over there, so we're all moving over here," "Where are you?" "We need more people to help fight against Mubarak's thugs." Such communication is valuable, human, moving, important, but it isn't deep. How much discussion of aims and goals and methods in the Arab Spring has taken place via Twitter, and how much was done face to face in the crowds? If social media were so world-changingly effective, there would have been no need to gather in Tahrir Square at all -- the revolution could have been virtual. Jurgenson not only misunderstands Chomsky, he misunderstands social media.

I have my own doubts about some of Chomsky's remarks. He does, as I've noticed before, have little appreciation for popular culture, which has more to do with his science-nerd temperament than anything else. But from what I've read, most human use of language isn't deep, even when it's face to face. But again, that doesn't make it less valuable. We use language as a form of grooming; that may be how it first evolved. "Hi! How are you? I'm so glad to see you! What's new? Have you heard from your daughter? I love you, mommy! Are you there? Yes, I'm here," and so on. Probably very little language use, comparatively speaking, has been for the purpose of writing philosophy or science or great literature. If most text messages and tweets are this sort of grooming, that doesn't count against them.

A more serious criticism of electronic communication media, and from what Chomsky says I think it's what really concerns him, is that it's a tool for the atomization of the populace, separating us from each other, which is what the rulers want. (He refers in the interview to the value of the local post office as a community gathering place, though the gathering was probably as much for mutual grooming, in the sense I just mentioned, as for exchanging information. Once more: that doesn't mean it wasn't important.) I've argued before that individualism, far from producing bold nonconformists who will stand up to authority, produces isolates who are easily beaten back into line. It's those 'primitive' collectivist societies that produce people who overthrow dictatorships and stand up to water cannons. Occupy Wall Street, for all that it uses electronic communication media, is built on collective, face-to-face interaction, and if it succeeds, it will be because of that, not because of Twitter. (Like many people, Jurgenson seems to think that electronic / digital / instant communication is the point of activism; but for activists such communication is a medium -- not an end but a means for bringing people together face-to-face.)

I've also noticed that most of the young computer-savvy people I've known aren't really that computer-savvy at all. Yes, they grew up with the damn things, so they're comfortable with them, but that's not a sign of greater intelligence or advanced consciousness. (There's a lot of essentialism in the celebration of the various computer generations.) But they learned only what they needed to know: how to work a game controller, how to log in to Facebook or Myspace, how to compose a message in textspeak. As a result they are stunned when they find out that their Facebook page or e-mail or text messages aren't private. (Wait a minute, isn't it totally a federal crime to open someone's e-mail, just like snailmail? That is so gay.) They know how to upload a memory card full of blurred party photos to Facebook, but it never occurs to them to edit them, let alone that the picture of them deepthroating a beerbong might be seen by their Mom or a potential employer. They know how to Google themselves and Rick Santorum (giggle), but not how to check the authenticity of that awesome Ghandi [sic] quotation they saw the other day. Just about everybody I worked with, regardless of their age, was amazed when I closed the timecard program's window with Alt-F4 instead of using the mouse. Keyboard equivalents? Who knew? Only us old farts, I guess.

Jurgenson, who incidentally is "a PhD student in Sociology at the University of Maryland", concludes:
Chomsky, a politically progressive linguist, should know better than to dismiss new forms of language-production that he does not understand as “shallow.” This argument, whether voiced by him or others, risks reducing those who primarily communicate in this way as an “other,” one who is less fully human and capable. This was Foucault’s point: Any claim to knowledge is always a claim to power. We might ask Chomsky today, when digital communications are disqualified as less deep, who benefits?
First of all, Twitter and e-mail are not "new forms of language-production": they're media for transmitting language that has already been produced. Jurgenson is just waving around technical sounding jargon he doesn't understand. Second and more important, Chomsky hasn't "disqualified" anything. Certainly he hasn't said that the messages that can be sent with these media are unimportant, let alone that the people who send those messages aren't important or shouldn't be taken seriously.

One commenter on Jurgenson's piece essayed a backhanded defense of Chomsky thusly:
Well, okay, granted, Chomsky didn't know in March that the Arab Spring and OWS were going to happen. But couldn't a man with his understanding of communications have foreseen uses like that for Twitter and texting?
Chomsky didn't have to foresee such uses. The people who are out of touch are those who think that the use of cellphones and texting to coordinate demonstrations was invented in Egypt in January 2011. As I noted above, Chomsky has been fielding questions about the uses of the Internet for political organizing for at least a decade. Not that that has anything to do with anyone's "understanding of communications," which is something else: it has to do with knowledge of current and recent events. (Chomsky's linguistic work has little to do with the theory of communication anyway, it's a different area of the field.) The smartalecks who are putting down Chomsky here are not nearly as smart as they like to think; but that's usually true of self-appointed elites. With friends like this commenter, who needs enemas?

Foregoing the shift key for some reason or other, Jurgenson made at least one reply to the comments:
as i stated in the article, and something the vast of the commentators missed, i'm not really debating if digital communications are shallow, but instead using the claim to dismiss them as a lesser form of communications. so, i think we agree. but, as we both know, these claims of depthlessness are so often coupled with viewing the "shallow" form as lesser. and all i am pointing out is that claim to knowledge is a claim to power.
The writer Nick Carr answered wryly:
Hmm. What are you saying here - that the bottom-up horde of commenters lacks the depth to read you correctly? That sounds like you're making a top-down claim to knowledge, and hence to power. Or am I misreading your comment?
Jurgenson didn't answer that one, but Carr is right: Jurgenson is playing games that have more to do with power struggles in academia and 'disqualifying' one's opponents and competitors than with serious discourse. He cites Foucault in his article, but I suspect it's a safe bet he's never read Gayatri Spivak's ovarian essay "Can the Subaltern Speak?", which among other things catches Foucault in his own colonialist toils. I mean, honestly, Nate, Foucault is like so Seventies -- Eighties, if you can't read him in French.

Jurgenson also linked to his fellow blogger and "cyborg" (?) P.J. Rey, who's even more fatuous than he. Rey wrote a defense of Jurgenson's claim to knowledge and power by accusing others of making claims to knowledge and power:
Jurgenson offered an epistemological critique of Chomsky, arguing that Chomsky’s dismissal of social media as superficial fits a long-standing pattern of affluent white academics maintaining their privileged position in society by rejecting media that is accessible to non-experts. Jurgenson pointedly asks “who benefits when what you call “normal” human relationships get to be considered more “deep” and meaningful?” Chomsky is seemingly ignorant to the use of Twitter and other networks in shaping the Arab Spring and the #Occupy movement; or the fact that young people are voraciously sharing and consuming important news stories through these same networks; or that Blacks and Hispanics were early adopters of smartphones; or that gay men have been pioneers in geo-locative communication. In many cases, historically-disadvantaged groups have used social media technology to find opportunities previously foreclosed to them. For these folks, social media is hardly trivial.
An epistemological critique? Whoa, the demons also believe, and tremble! Since everything Rey writes here is irrelevant at best and false at worst, as I've already shown, there's no need to rebut it at length. Of course Chomsky "is seemingly ignorant of the use of Twitter and other networks in shaping the Arab Spring and the #Occupy movement," because he's totally old and gnarly and disqualifies the struggles of the young and hip -- which is why he's often spoken about them. "... or that gay men have been pioneers in geo-locative communication"; given Chomsky's temperamental aversion to discourse on sexuality, I think he can be spared a Powerpoint presentation on Grindr for finding hot man2man Action. Once again, Rey exhibits the worst of the academic tendency to mistake jargon for substance, and the medium for the message. (Isn't McLuhan passe by now? I seem to recall Raymond Williams demolishing him somewhere; I'll have to check.) With fearless epistemological critics like Jurgenson and Rey, Wall Street and the Corporate Consensus can rest easy. Luckily, they're irrelevant.

People Are Not Excess

I finally got a copy of Fred Barney Taylor's 2007 documentary The Polymath; or, The Life and Opinions of Samuel R. Delany, Gentleman, and watched it tonight. TLA Video had it on clearance, so I snapped it up, but it can be ordered directly from the filmmaker. It's an odd sort of documentary, consisting largely of Delany talking over solarized footage of water, rivers, train tracks, and the like; there are also Delany family home movies and clips of Delany receiving awards, traveling, and walking around New York City. Still, it's highly interesting and well worth seeing.

Towards the end, Delany reads from his book Times Square Red, Times Square Blue, page 90:
The easy argument already in place to catch up these anecdotes is that social institutions such as the porn movies take up, then, a certain social excess -- are even, perhaps, socially beneficial to some small part of it (a margin outside the margin). But that is the same argument that allows them to be dismissed -- and physically smashed and flattened. They are relevant only to that margin. No one else cares.

Well, in a democracy, that is not an acceptable argument. People are not excess. It is the same argument that dismisses the needs of blacks, Jews, Hispanics, Asians, women, gays, the homeless, the poor, the worker -- and all other margins that, taken together (people like you, people like me) are the country's overwhelming majority: those who, socioeconomically, are simply less powerful.
That sounded familiar! Noam Chomsky says almost exactly the same thing -- though I don't think he'd agree with Delany about the value of men having sex with each other in (mostly heterosexual) porn theaters. Much as I love Chomsky, he has his blind spots. But still, their coincidental agreement on the notion that the margins put together equal the country's overwhelming majority was too striking not to mention.

People Are Not Excess

I finally got a copy of Fred Barney Taylor's 2007 documentary The Polymath; or, The Life and Opinions of Samuel R. Delany, Gentleman, and watched it tonight. TLA Video had it on clearance, so I snapped it up, but it can be ordered directly from the filmmaker. It's an odd sort of documentary, consisting largely of Delany talking over solarized footage of water, rivers, train tracks, and the like; there are also Delany family home movies and clips of Delany receiving awards, traveling, and walking around New York City. Still, it's highly interesting and well worth seeing.

Towards the end, Delany reads from his book Times Square Red, Times Square Blue, page 90:
The easy argument already in place to catch up these anecdotes is that social institutions such as the porn movies take up, then, a certain social excess -- are even, perhaps, socially beneficial to some small part of it (a margin outside the margin). But that is the same argument that allows them to be dismissed -- and physically smashed and flattened. They are relevant only to that margin. No one else cares.

Well, in a democracy, that is not an acceptable argument. People are not excess. It is the same argument that dismisses the needs of blacks, Jews, Hispanics, Asians, women, gays, the homeless, the poor, the worker -- and all other margins that, taken together (people like you, people like me) are the country's overwhelming majority: those who, socioeconomically, are simply less powerful.
That sounded familiar! Noam Chomsky says almost exactly the same thing -- though I don't think he'd agree with Delany about the value of men having sex with each other in (mostly heterosexual) porn theaters. Much as I love Chomsky, he has his blind spots. But still, their coincidental agreement on the notion that the margins put together equal the country's overwhelming majority was too striking not to mention.

Trouble and Turmoil, and Reagan's Third Term

If I hadn't been off my feed for the past couple of weeks, my Right Wing Acquaintance 1 was giving me plenty of fodder for blog posts, like his link to this National Review Online article on Hugo Chavez, to which he added this comment:
Venezuela is in for trouble and turmoil, whatever Chavez's health. He has been Castroizing the country with the help of experts from Cuba, and the opposition is systematically being jailed, intimidated, and suppressed. It is probably not too late for the opposition to resist, but the situation looks precarious. This is caudilloism under the red flag.
The usual sack of lies. If Chavez really were a dictator -- a Mubarak, a Pinochet, a Suharto, a Duvalier, a Saddam Hussein -- RWA1 and the National Review crowd would be behind him all the way, with perhaps some faux-fastidious concern about his going over the top now and then but you can't be too fussy about a little torture and murder because he had to do something! Chavez isn't a patch on people like Mubarak or the usual run of Latin American dictators, and RWA1 was not happy to see Mubarak go. I doubt he even knows what Venezuela was like before Chavez came along. The prediction of "trouble and turmoil" for Venezuela is of course a hope, not a prediction: gotta punish those grimy yahoos for trying to throw off the benign yoke of American corporations and their local friends.

Soon after RWA1 put that story up on his wall, I learned that the Guardian, the most liberal if not left of mainstream British newspapers, had tried to smear Noam Chomsky for writing a letter critical of Chavez (via). It wasn't the first time the Guardian had misrepresented Chomsky, either.

Chomsky said:
It's obviously improper for the executive to intervene and impose a jail sentence without a trial. And I should say that the United States is in no position to complain about this. Bradley Manning has been imprisoned without charge, under torture, which is what solitary confinement is. The president in fact intervened. Obama was asked about his conditions and said that he was assured by the Pentagon that they were fine. That's executive intervention in a case of severe violation of civil liberties and it's hardly the only one. That doesn't change the judgment about Venezuela, it just says that what one hears in the United States one can dismiss.
(RWA1 has been silent about Bradley Manning, on Facebook at least. And it's not irrelevant that Human Rights Watch, which has criticized Chavez, also has called for an investigation of Bush-era torture by the US, which President Obama has no intention of doing, but of course Human Rights Watch are just a bunch of backward-looking extremists when they can't be used for US propaganda against its official enemies.)

Chomsky also told the Guardian:
We may compare [Venezuela's record] to Colombia next door. Colombia's human rights record is incomparably worse. The judges in the constitutional court have been investigating cases of corruption, crimes at the highest level, and they have been intimidated. They have received death threats, and they have to have bodyguards and so on. And apparently that's continuing under [President José Manuel] Santos.
RWA1 has been silent about Columbia too; but hey, human rights violations in countries that enjoy massive US support aren't news, it's like dog bites man. Besides, our allies around the world are under attack by Communists and terrorists -- they have to do something!

But it was RWA1's link tonight that was the most amusing: an opinion piece, "Winning Moderate Millennials," by one Elise Jordan. It's mostly a review of a book by Herbert Hoover's great-grandaughter Margaret.
... To attract the next generation of Republicans, Hoover says, we need to re-brand conservatism or risk extinction.
"Re-brand" -- you can tell RWA1 is depressed when he doesn't jeer at an article with that kind of marketing jargon in it.
Hoover nails how Millennials — that next generation of voters, ages 18 to 29 — view the GOP’s brand as almost exclusively socially conservative. She discusses what she calls “conservative tribalism,” the labels — neocon, crunchy con, paleocon, lib-con, and theocon — that are tearing the party apart in the absence of a unifying leader. She points out that when Millennials look at the infighting, they see only the most socially conservative ideas winning. But if we were to focus on conservative principles embodying individual and economic freedom, we could actually tap into this fifth of the electorate. Hoover’s message is that there are conservative issues that should be a priority — such as education reform, expanding legal immigration, and combating radical Islam — and there are those that should not — fighting gay rights, pushing intelligent design, or denying climate change.
But here's the punchline:
[Hoover] points out that Reagan himself was very “impure” — he raised taxes, left Lebanon, and cut deals with Tehran — yet he was still the most successful conservative president — thanks to his pragmatism, not in spite of it.

So let’s be on the lookout for the next Reagan, not the next Trump.
Um, the next Reagan is in the White House, right now. Of course he's wearing the wrong brand, but he's on record as admiring the Great Communicator and his party, and he's worked very hard to show that he means it.

I'm reminded of the way that some liberal writers have been wringing their hands over Obama's political future, and what will happen to the Democratic party. For party loyalists (and RWA1 is a party man, just like Elise Jordan and Margaret Hoover), the letters D and R trump everything, including the good of the vast majority of human beings.

Trouble and Turmoil, and Reagan's Third Term

If I hadn't been off my feed for the past couple of weeks, my Right Wing Acquaintance 1 was giving me plenty of fodder for blog posts, like his link to this National Review Online article on Hugo Chavez, to which he added this comment:
Venezuela is in for trouble and turmoil, whatever Chavez's health. He has been Castroizing the country with the help of experts from Cuba, and the opposition is systematically being jailed, intimidated, and suppressed. It is probably not too late for the opposition to resist, but the situation looks precarious. This is caudilloism under the red flag.
The usual sack of lies. If Chavez really were a dictator -- a Mubarak, a Pinochet, a Suharto, a Duvalier, a Saddam Hussein -- RWA1 and the National Review crowd would be behind him all the way, with perhaps some faux-fastidious concern about his going over the top now and then but you can't be too fussy about a little torture and murder because he had to do something! Chavez isn't a patch on people like Mubarak or the usual run of Latin American dictators, and RWA1 was not happy to see Mubarak go. I doubt he even knows what Venezuela was like before Chavez came along. The prediction of "trouble and turmoil" for Venezuela is of course a hope, not a prediction: gotta punish those grimy yahoos for trying to throw off the benign yoke of American corporations and their local friends.

Soon after RWA1 put that story up on his wall, I learned that the Guardian, the most liberal if not left of mainstream British newspapers, had tried to smear Noam Chomsky for writing a letter critical of Chavez (via). It wasn't the first time the Guardian had misrepresented Chomsky, either.

Chomsky said:
It's obviously improper for the executive to intervene and impose a jail sentence without a trial. And I should say that the United States is in no position to complain about this. Bradley Manning has been imprisoned without charge, under torture, which is what solitary confinement is. The president in fact intervened. Obama was asked about his conditions and said that he was assured by the Pentagon that they were fine. That's executive intervention in a case of severe violation of civil liberties and it's hardly the only one. That doesn't change the judgment about Venezuela, it just says that what one hears in the United States one can dismiss.
(RWA1 has been silent about Bradley Manning, on Facebook at least. And it's not irrelevant that Human Rights Watch, which has criticized Chavez, also has called for an investigation of Bush-era torture by the US, which President Obama has no intention of doing, but of course Human Rights Watch are just a bunch of backward-looking extremists when they can't be used for US propaganda against its official enemies.)

Chomsky also told the Guardian:
We may compare [Venezuela's record] to Colombia next door. Colombia's human rights record is incomparably worse. The judges in the constitutional court have been investigating cases of corruption, crimes at the highest level, and they have been intimidated. They have received death threats, and they have to have bodyguards and so on. And apparently that's continuing under [President José Manuel] Santos.
RWA1 has been silent about Columbia too; but hey, human rights violations in countries that enjoy massive US support aren't news, it's like dog bites man. Besides, our allies around the world are under attack by Communists and terrorists -- they have to do something!

But it was RWA1's link tonight that was the most amusing: an opinion piece, "Winning Moderate Millennials," by one Elise Jordan. It's mostly a review of a book by Herbert Hoover's great-grandaughter Margaret.
... To attract the next generation of Republicans, Hoover says, we need to re-brand conservatism or risk extinction.
"Re-brand" -- you can tell RWA1 is depressed when he doesn't jeer at an article with that kind of marketing jargon in it.
Hoover nails how Millennials — that next generation of voters, ages 18 to 29 — view the GOP’s brand as almost exclusively socially conservative. She discusses what she calls “conservative tribalism,” the labels — neocon, crunchy con, paleocon, lib-con, and theocon — that are tearing the party apart in the absence of a unifying leader. She points out that when Millennials look at the infighting, they see only the most socially conservative ideas winning. But if we were to focus on conservative principles embodying individual and economic freedom, we could actually tap into this fifth of the electorate. Hoover’s message is that there are conservative issues that should be a priority — such as education reform, expanding legal immigration, and combating radical Islam — and there are those that should not — fighting gay rights, pushing intelligent design, or denying climate change.
But here's the punchline:
[Hoover] points out that Reagan himself was very “impure” — he raised taxes, left Lebanon, and cut deals with Tehran — yet he was still the most successful conservative president — thanks to his pragmatism, not in spite of it.

So let’s be on the lookout for the next Reagan, not the next Trump.
Um, the next Reagan is in the White House, right now. Of course he's wearing the wrong brand, but he's on record as admiring the Great Communicator and his party, and he's worked very hard to show that he means it.

I'm reminded of the way that some liberal writers have been wringing their hands over Obama's political future, and what will happen to the Democratic party. For party loyalists (and RWA1 is a party man, just like Elise Jordan and Margaret Hoover), the letters D and R trump everything, including the good of the vast majority of human beings.

I Feel Your Pain, Equivalently

There are a couple of interesting articles at Slate today. One is a column by Christopher Hitchens, enraged by Noam Chomsky's recent remarks on the assassination of Bin Laden, and -- typically for Hitchens when he talks about Chomsky since the 9/11 attacks -- full of distortions.

For example, Hitchens writes:
He is still arguing loudly for moral equivalence, maintaining that the Abbottabad, Pakistan, strike would justify a contingency whereby "Iraqi commandos landed at George W. Bush's compound, assassinated him, and dumped his body in the Atlantic." (Indeed, equivalence might be a weak word here, since he maintains that, "uncontroversially, [Bush's] crimes vastly exceed bin Laden's.")
Hitchens doesn't bother to explain why it's so absurd to say that Bush's crimes vastly exceed Bin Laden's; "moral equivalence" is an epithet he's been throwing at Chomsky for years, without bothering to defend it. But he certainly takes Chomsky's remark about Iraqi commandos landing at Bush's compound out of context. What Chomsky said was:
We might ask ourselves how we would be reacting if Iraqi commandos landed at George W. Bush’s compound, assassinated him, and dumped his body in the Atlantic. Uncontroversially, his crimes vastly exceed bin Laden’s, and he is not a “suspect” but uncontroversially the “decider” who gave the orders to commit the “supreme international crime differing only from other war crimes in that it contains within itself the accumulated evil of the whole” (quoting the Nuremberg Tribunal) for which Nazi criminals were hanged: the hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, destruction of much of the country, the bitter sectarian conflict that has now spread to the rest of the region.
Hitchens is a robust defender of Bush's invasion of Iraq, so he probably would not agree that it was aggression or that Bush is a criminal, though Chomsky's summary of the human cost -- "the hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, destruction of much of the country, the bitter sectarian conflict that has now spread to the rest of the region" -- is accurate, factual, even (to use one of Chomsky's own buzzwords) uncontroversial. Hitchens jumped ship in 2008 to endorse Obama, and you can't say he didn't know his man, who has turned out to be as bloodthirsty and contemptuous of all law as Bush. Still, what Chomsky was doing was one of his standard rhetorical moves, as when he says that if the Nuremberg precedents were enforced, every American president since World War II would have to be hanged. This doesn't mean that Chomsky really thinks they should be hanged (as far as I know, he opposes capital punishment); he's just pointing out the vast gap between the standards the US imposed on its defeated enemies after World War II, and the US' conduct since then. (I presume that Hitchens still considers the US invasion of Vietnam to be aggression.) Maybe Chomsky's point would have been clearer if he'd offered the image of Henry Kissinger being seized, killed, and dumped at sea by foreign commandos. Hitchens still hates Kissinger and considers him a war criminal, but I'm beginning to suspect that he's forgotten why.

Hitchens garbles Chomsky's analogy in any case. Chomsky wasn't saying that the execution of bin Laden would justify the execution of Bush by Iraqi commandos; the comparison he was drawing was between bin Laden's crimes and Bush's invasion of Iraq. I imagine there are more than a few Iraqis who'd react to a lethal raid on Bush's compound in Dallas with the same satisfaction that so many Americans feel over bin Laden's killing. And not without reason, when you consider the consequences of Bush's invasion, and Americans' celebration of it. (Remember too that many Americans believed, and probably still believe, that Iraq was involved in the September 11 attacks, and that the invasion was retaliation for this. That's as demented as the Truther theories about September 11 as an American black op, which Hitchens ridicules in his piece, and hints that Chomsky shares.)

For that matter, Chomsky was using a rhetorical device that was used by Martin Luther King Jr. when he said in 1967 that the US was the greatest source of violence in the world. I think it’s a safe bet that King he wasn’t calling for other governments to invade the US. No, he said explicitly that he had come to realize that he couldn’t condemn the violence of others without first condemning and opposing the far greater violence being done in his name by his own government. That's Chomsky's point too. But perhaps Hitchens now considers King to have been a "capitulationist", one of the "surrender faction" on Vietnam.

Chomsky's example has all kinds of implications that he didn't bother to draw out, so let me indicate a few. For Iraqi commandos to be able to land in Texas and seize George Bush in reality, the US would have to let it happen. There would have to be Iraqi military bases nearby, probably just across the border with Mexico. And despite the US' supposedly collegial relationship with Iraq since the invasion, that could never happen without our nuking Mexico and probably Iraq as well: the US would never tolerate foreign military bases on our neighbors' soil, though we expect and demand that other countries accept US military bases on theirs. So, in order for Iraqi commandos to be able to strike in the US, there would have to be collaboration between the US and Iraq on a level that is unthinkable now, but which exists between the US and Pakistan. Perhaps the US would release a Pakistani intelligence operative who shot down American pursuers in broad daylight, but only under the kind of compulsion that forced Pakistan to free a murderous US intelligence operative. The kind of situation which would give Iraq the power to assassinate Bush could only happen in a very different America than the one we live in: it would have to be an America subjected to its former victims, with many of us killed by predator drones controlled from Baghdad, and fundamentalist resistance forces in the mountains, say, of Idaho. While I would like to see George Bush brought to justice, including by Iraqis since the US surely will never do it, I don't think it would be worth the human cost necessary to let those commandos roam free -- just as I feel about the killing of Bin Laden. As I've written before, I don’t want to see this country destroyed, not just because I live here and there are people I love who live here (though those are valid reasons), but because I don’t want to see any country destroyed. I didn’t want to see the Soviet Union destroyed in an orgy of blood-letting, nor did I want to see Vietnam bombed back into the Stone Age, nor did I want to see Iraq destroyed, nor do I want to see Iran destroyed, nor Israel nor Lebanon nor Afghanistan nor Colombia nor China nor North Korea nor Indonesia nor Cuba nor the frothing Batistas-in-exile in Miami – even though they all have the blood of countless innocents on their hands.

I get the impression that many Americans have forgotten that the US supported various extremely brutal military dictatorships in Pakistan for decades, which killed and tortured their own citizens to repress political opposition. Right after the 9/11 attacks, a self-declared liberal journalist friend told me that the US should reach out to "moderate" Muslim regimes as allies; Pakistan was one he had in mind. But that's the past; we must look to the future.

One strong sign of Hitchens's dishonesty in that piece was that he dragged out once again a grievance he's been nurturing for close to a decade now:
I can't immediately decide whether or not this is an improvement on what Chomsky wrote at the time. Ten years ago, apparently sharing the consensus that 9/11 was indeed the work of al-Qaida, he wrote that it was no worse an atrocity than President Clinton's earlier use of cruise missiles against Sudan in retaliation for the bomb attacks on the centers of Nairobi and Dar es Salaam. (I haven't been back to check on whether he conceded that those embassy bombings were also al-Qaida's work to begin with.)
This refers to Chomsky's rebuttal of Hitchen's bloodlust in The Nation. Yes, Chomsky mentioned Clinton's use of missiles against a pharmaceutical factory in the Sudan, and said that the number of deaths resulting from the lack of the medicines that the factory would have made exceeded by far the numbers who died on September 11, 2001. Chomsky wrote elsewhere of
such minor escapades of Western state terror as Clinton's bombing of the al-Shifa pharmaceutical plant in Sudan in 1998, leading to "several tens of thousands" of deaths according to the German Ambassador and other reputable sources, whose conclusions are consistent with the immediate assessments of knowledgeable observers. The principle of proportionality therefore entails that Sudan had every right to carry out massive terror in retaliation, a conclusion that is strengthened if we go on to adopt the view that this act of "the empire" had "appalling consequences for the economy and society" of Sudan so that the atrocity was much worse than the crimes of 9-11, which were appalling enough, but did not have such consequences.
Christopher Hitchens himself had railed against the destruction of that factory in an article in The Nation, October 5, 1998. In that article he refuted administration claims that the factory was actually used to manufacture chemical weapons for al-Qaeda, and concluded that the attack had been timed to distract attention from Bill Clinton's impeachment, not as "retaliation for the bomb attacks on the centers of Nairobi and Dar es Salaam."
Well then, what was the hurry, a hurry that was panicky enough for the President and his advisers to pick the wrong objective and then, stained with embarrassment and retraction, to refuse the open inquiry that could have settled the question in the first place? There is really only one possible answer to that question. Clinton needed to look "presidential" for a day. He may even have needed a vacation from his family vacation. At all events, he acted with caprice and brutality and with a complete disregard for international law, and perhaps counted on the indifference of the press and public to a negligible society like that of Sudan, and killed wogs to save his own lousy Hyde (to say nothing of our new moral tutor, the ridiculous sermonizer Lieberman). No bipartisan contrition is likely to be offered to the starving Sudanese, unmentioned on the "prayer breakfast" circuit.
After September 11, 2001, while trumpeting his concern for the Sudanese, Hitchens climbed back down from some of these positions: "As one who spent several weeks rebutting it, and rebutting it in real time, I can state that the case for considering Al-Shifa as a military target was not an absolutely hollow one. ... However, at least a makeshift claim of military targeting could be advanced... I thus hold to my view that there is no facile 'moral equivalence' between the two crimes." It's fun to watch Hitchens tying himself into knots here. (See this later critique, by Timothy Noah, of the validity of the attack on al-Shifa.) "Chomsky had not, however, claimed a "'moral equivalence' between the two crimes" -- that's Hitchens's pet term. Comparison is not equivalence, and I think Chomsky was tweaking Hitchens. He could (and perhaps should) have drawn other comparisons that were more fitting, such as the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who died because of Clinton's sanctions, Clinton's support for a murderous military regime in Haiti, Clinton's support for the genocidal Indonesian invasion and occupation of East Timor, and more atrocities on which Hitchens and Chomsky agreed. As I've argued, Chomsky wasn't concerned with "moral equivalence", any more than King was.

In that same piece, Hitchens stressed the importance of "intention and motive." As he said, the intention of the September 11 hijackers was to maximize civilian deaths. As he didn't say, the perpetrators of the al-Shifa attack didn't even consider the impact of destroying a nation's only pharmaceutical factory. (Perhaps Hitchens himself didn't anticipate the impact on civilians of Bush's invasion of Iraq, or maybe he didn't care.) Not that Clinton was personally much concerned. In public he felt others' pain; in private he could be more interested in inflicting it:
"We're not inflicting pain on these fuckers," Clinton said, softly at first. "When people kill us, they should be killed in greater numbers." Then, with his face reddening, his voice rising, and his fist pounding his thigh, he leaned into Tony, as if it was his fault. "I believe in killing people who try to hurt you. And I can't believe we’re being pushed around by these two-bit pricks."
No, we'd best not attend overmuch to "intention and motive" in US policy, which is no more aimed at maximizing freedom and happiness around the globe than al-Qaeda's. Hitchens has accused Chomsky of naivete, but what could be more naive -- to use the most charitable word -- for Hitchens's insistence that the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq had anything to do with overturning tyranny? As he knows full well, the US has always been able to get along with tyrants, terrorists, and Islamic fanatics -- as long as they're our tyrants, terrorists, and Islamic fanatics.

Oh yes, the other piece I noticed at Slate was on bin Laden's wives and family, and why Pakistan hasn't let the US interrogate them. It's worth reading, but it doesn't mention the one major concern you'd think would motivate anyone to keep anybody out of US hands: because they might, indeed would be tortured. I say that half-tongue-in-cheek, because Pakistan also has a history of torture, but when I remember how many Americanist fanatics are now arguing that the American use of torture contributed to the assassination of Osama bin Laden, I'd say that no matter what reasons the Pakistanis have, they should keep those women and children out of US hands.

I Feel Your Pain, Equivalently

There are a couple of interesting articles at Slate today. One is a column by Christopher Hitchens, enraged by Noam Chomsky's recent remarks on the assassination of Bin Laden, and -- typically for Hitchens when he talks about Chomsky since the 9/11 attacks -- full of distortions.

For example, Hitchens writes:
He is still arguing loudly for moral equivalence, maintaining that the Abbottabad, Pakistan, strike would justify a contingency whereby "Iraqi commandos landed at George W. Bush's compound, assassinated him, and dumped his body in the Atlantic." (Indeed, equivalence might be a weak word here, since he maintains that, "uncontroversially, [Bush's] crimes vastly exceed bin Laden's.")
Hitchens doesn't bother to explain why it's so absurd to say that Bush's crimes vastly exceed Bin Laden's; "moral equivalence" is an epithet he's been throwing at Chomsky for years, without bothering to defend it. But he certainly takes Chomsky's remark about Iraqi commandos landing at Bush's compound out of context. What Chomsky said was:
We might ask ourselves how we would be reacting if Iraqi commandos landed at George W. Bush’s compound, assassinated him, and dumped his body in the Atlantic. Uncontroversially, his crimes vastly exceed bin Laden’s, and he is not a “suspect” but uncontroversially the “decider” who gave the orders to commit the “supreme international crime differing only from other war crimes in that it contains within itself the accumulated evil of the whole” (quoting the Nuremberg Tribunal) for which Nazi criminals were hanged: the hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, destruction of much of the country, the bitter sectarian conflict that has now spread to the rest of the region.
Hitchens is a robust defender of Bush's invasion of Iraq, so he probably would not agree that it was aggression or that Bush is a criminal, though Chomsky's summary of the human cost -- "the hundreds of thousands of deaths, millions of refugees, destruction of much of the country, the bitter sectarian conflict that has now spread to the rest of the region" -- is accurate, factual, even (to use one of Chomsky's own buzzwords) uncontroversial. Hitchens jumped ship in 2008 to endorse Obama, and you can't say he didn't know his man, who has turned out to be as bloodthirsty and contemptuous of all law as Bush. Still, what Chomsky was doing was one of his standard rhetorical moves, as when he says that if the Nuremberg precedents were enforced, every American president since World War II would have to be hanged. This doesn't mean that Chomsky really thinks they should be hanged (as far as I know, he opposes capital punishment); he's just pointing out the vast gap between the standards the US imposed on its defeated enemies after World War II, and the US' conduct since then. (I presume that Hitchens still considers the US invasion of Vietnam to be aggression.) Maybe Chomsky's point would have been clearer if he'd offered the image of Henry Kissinger being seized, killed, and dumped at sea by foreign commandos. Hitchens still hates Kissinger and considers him a war criminal, but I'm beginning to suspect that he's forgotten why.

Hitchens garbles Chomsky's analogy in any case. Chomsky wasn't saying that the execution of bin Laden would justify the execution of Bush by Iraqi commandos; the comparison he was drawing was between bin Laden's crimes and Bush's invasion of Iraq. I imagine there are more than a few Iraqis who'd react to a lethal raid on Bush's compound in Dallas with the same satisfaction that so many Americans feel over bin Laden's killing. And not without reason, when you consider the consequences of Bush's invasion, and Americans' celebration of it. (Remember too that many Americans believed, and probably still believe, that Iraq was involved in the September 11 attacks, and that the invasion was retaliation for this. That's as demented as the Truther theories about September 11 as an American black op, which Hitchens ridicules in his piece, and hints that Chomsky shares.)

For that matter, Chomsky was using a rhetorical device that was used by Martin Luther King Jr. when he said in 1967 that the US was the greatest source of violence in the world. I think it’s a safe bet that King he wasn’t calling for other governments to invade the US. No, he said explicitly that he had come to realize that he couldn’t condemn the violence of others without first condemning and opposing the far greater violence being done in his name by his own government. That's Chomsky's point too. But perhaps Hitchens now considers King to have been a "capitulationist", one of the "surrender faction" on Vietnam.

Chomsky's example has all kinds of implications that he didn't bother to draw out, so let me indicate a few. For Iraqi commandos to be able to land in Texas and seize George Bush in reality, the US would have to let it happen. There would have to be Iraqi military bases nearby, probably just across the border with Mexico. And despite the US' supposedly collegial relationship with Iraq since the invasion, that could never happen without our nuking Mexico and probably Iraq as well: the US would never tolerate foreign military bases on our neighbors' soil, though we expect and demand that other countries accept US military bases on theirs. So, in order for Iraqi commandos to be able to strike in the US, there would have to be collaboration between the US and Iraq on a level that is unthinkable now, but which exists between the US and Pakistan. Perhaps the US would release a Pakistani intelligence operative who shot down American pursuers in broad daylight, but only under the kind of compulsion that forced Pakistan to free a murderous US intelligence operative. The kind of situation which would give Iraq the power to assassinate Bush could only happen in a very different America than the one we live in: it would have to be an America subjected to its former victims, with many of us killed by predator drones controlled from Baghdad, and fundamentalist resistance forces in the mountains, say, of Idaho. While I would like to see George Bush brought to justice, including by Iraqis since the US surely will never do it, I don't think it would be worth the human cost necessary to let those commandos roam free -- just as I feel about the killing of Bin Laden. As I've written before, I don’t want to see this country destroyed, not just because I live here and there are people I love who live here (though those are valid reasons), but because I don’t want to see any country destroyed. I didn’t want to see the Soviet Union destroyed in an orgy of blood-letting, nor did I want to see Vietnam bombed back into the Stone Age, nor did I want to see Iraq destroyed, nor do I want to see Iran destroyed, nor Israel nor Lebanon nor Afghanistan nor Colombia nor China nor North Korea nor Indonesia nor Cuba nor the frothing Batistas-in-exile in Miami – even though they all have the blood of countless innocents on their hands.

I get the impression that many Americans have forgotten that the US supported various extremely brutal military dictatorships in Pakistan for decades, which killed and tortured their own citizens to repress political opposition. Right after the 9/11 attacks, a self-declared liberal journalist friend told me that the US should reach out to "moderate" Muslim regimes as allies; Pakistan was one he had in mind. But that's the past; we must look to the future.

One strong sign of Hitchens's dishonesty in that piece was that he dragged out once again a grievance he's been nurturing for close to a decade now:
I can't immediately decide whether or not this is an improvement on what Chomsky wrote at the time. Ten years ago, apparently sharing the consensus that 9/11 was indeed the work of al-Qaida, he wrote that it was no worse an atrocity than President Clinton's earlier use of cruise missiles against Sudan in retaliation for the bomb attacks on the centers of Nairobi and Dar es Salaam. (I haven't been back to check on whether he conceded that those embassy bombings were also al-Qaida's work to begin with.)
This refers to Chomsky's rebuttal of Hitchen's bloodlust in The Nation. Yes, Chomsky mentioned Clinton's use of missiles against a pharmaceutical factory in the Sudan, and said that the number of deaths resulting from the lack of the medicines that the factory would have made exceeded by far the numbers who died on September 11, 2001. Chomsky wrote elsewhere of
such minor escapades of Western state terror as Clinton's bombing of the al-Shifa pharmaceutical plant in Sudan in 1998, leading to "several tens of thousands" of deaths according to the German Ambassador and other reputable sources, whose conclusions are consistent with the immediate assessments of knowledgeable observers. The principle of proportionality therefore entails that Sudan had every right to carry out massive terror in retaliation, a conclusion that is strengthened if we go on to adopt the view that this act of "the empire" had "appalling consequences for the economy and society" of Sudan so that the atrocity was much worse than the crimes of 9-11, which were appalling enough, but did not have such consequences.
Christopher Hitchens himself had railed against the destruction of that factory in an article in The Nation, October 5, 1998. In that article he refuted administration claims that the factory was actually used to manufacture chemical weapons for al-Qaeda, and concluded that the attack had been timed to distract attention from Bill Clinton's impeachment, not as "retaliation for the bomb attacks on the centers of Nairobi and Dar es Salaam."
Well then, what was the hurry, a hurry that was panicky enough for the President and his advisers to pick the wrong objective and then, stained with embarrassment and retraction, to refuse the open inquiry that could have settled the question in the first place? There is really only one possible answer to that question. Clinton needed to look "presidential" for a day. He may even have needed a vacation from his family vacation. At all events, he acted with caprice and brutality and with a complete disregard for international law, and perhaps counted on the indifference of the press and public to a negligible society like that of Sudan, and killed wogs to save his own lousy Hyde (to say nothing of our new moral tutor, the ridiculous sermonizer Lieberman). No bipartisan contrition is likely to be offered to the starving Sudanese, unmentioned on the "prayer breakfast" circuit.
After September 11, 2001, while trumpeting his concern for the Sudanese, Hitchens climbed back down from some of these positions: "As one who spent several weeks rebutting it, and rebutting it in real time, I can state that the case for considering Al-Shifa as a military target was not an absolutely hollow one. ... However, at least a makeshift claim of military targeting could be advanced... I thus hold to my view that there is no facile 'moral equivalence' between the two crimes." It's fun to watch Hitchens tying himself into knots here. (See this later critique, by Timothy Noah, of the validity of the attack on al-Shifa.) "Chomsky had not, however, claimed a "'moral equivalence' between the two crimes" -- that's Hitchens's pet term. Comparison is not equivalence, and I think Chomsky was tweaking Hitchens. He could (and perhaps should) have drawn other comparisons that were more fitting, such as the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who died because of Clinton's sanctions, Clinton's support for a murderous military regime in Haiti, Clinton's support for the genocidal Indonesian invasion and occupation of East Timor, and more atrocities on which Hitchens and Chomsky agreed. As I've argued, Chomsky wasn't concerned with "moral equivalence", any more than King was.

In that same piece, Hitchens stressed the importance of "intention and motive." As he said, the intention of the September 11 hijackers was to maximize civilian deaths. As he didn't say, the perpetrators of the al-Shifa attack didn't even consider the impact of destroying a nation's only pharmaceutical factory. (Perhaps Hitchens himself didn't anticipate the impact on civilians of Bush's invasion of Iraq, or maybe he didn't care.) Not that Clinton was personally much concerned. In public he felt others' pain; in private he could be more interested in inflicting it:
"We're not inflicting pain on these fuckers," Clinton said, softly at first. "When people kill us, they should be killed in greater numbers." Then, with his face reddening, his voice rising, and his fist pounding his thigh, he leaned into Tony, as if it was his fault. "I believe in killing people who try to hurt you. And I can't believe we’re being pushed around by these two-bit pricks."
No, we'd best not attend overmuch to "intention and motive" in US policy, which is no more aimed at maximizing freedom and happiness around the globe than al-Qaeda's. Hitchens has accused Chomsky of naivete, but what could be more naive -- to use the most charitable word -- for Hitchens's insistence that the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq had anything to do with overturning tyranny? As he knows full well, the US has always been able to get along with tyrants, terrorists, and Islamic fanatics -- as long as they're our tyrants, terrorists, and Islamic fanatics.

Oh yes, the other piece I noticed at Slate was on bin Laden's wives and family, and why Pakistan hasn't let the US interrogate them. It's worth reading, but it doesn't mention the one major concern you'd think would motivate anyone to keep anybody out of US hands: because they might, indeed would be tortured. I say that half-tongue-in-cheek, because Pakistan also has a history of torture, but when I remember how many Americanist fanatics are now arguing that the American use of torture contributed to the assassination of Osama bin Laden, I'd say that no matter what reasons the Pakistanis have, they should keep those women and children out of US hands.