Steve Ersinghaus

It was close, but I’m proud of this ruling for CT.

With the ruling, Connecticut joins Massachusetts and California as the only states that allow same-sex couples to marry. Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire and New Jersey have civil unions, while Maine, Washington, Oregon and Hawaii have domestic partnership laws that allow same-sex couples to receive some of the same benefits granted to those in civil unions.

Dan Green engages a post by Obooki (?)

Since I, too, cannot think of any particular novel that “has changed my thinking about life,” and since I also don’t read novels “for philosophy, for meaning” and am antipathetic to “philosophizing” in novels (as well to the underlying notion that fiction is a medium for “saying something” in the first place), I want to agree with the further claim that no novelist has ever “contributed anything important to human understanding,” but finally I really can’t.

In the narrow sense of the term “understanding” that Obooki seems to be invoking here–”understanding” as philosophically established knowledge–it is certainly true that fiction has contributed almost nothing to the store of human knowledge.

The engagement has generated interesting comments. But I’m wondering at the suggested framework: it’s one thing to claim that fiction may produce human understanding, another thing to say that fiction may generate knowledge (something unknown or unconsidered as related, for example). The distinction matters. Formative knowledge, such as an historical fact, can be conveyed through a fiction, and some fictions may discover a new aesthetic.

But the question of knowledge may lead to an expectation of it. We could ask a different question: a reader may discover an interesting relationship in a fiction or poem. A fiction may uncover something hidden. “Life-changing” is a pretty high and complicated standard. Isn’t the judge in McCarthy’s novel somewhat of a contribution? I admit that the kind of contribution can be an interesting question to pursue.

A clever post from Geoff Manaugh at Worldchanging:

In a related vein, it’s often said in the U.S. that certain politicians simply “don’t understand the West”: they’re so caught up in their big city, coastal ways that they just don’t get – they can’t even comprehend – how a rancher might react to something like increased federal control over water rights or how a small-town mayor might object to interfering rulings by the Supreme Court. Politicians who don’t understand the west – who don’t understand the rugged individuality of ranch life or the no-excuses self-responsibility of American small towns – are thus unfit to lead this society.

But surely the more accurate lesson to be drawn from such a statement is exactly the opposite?

One could even speculate here that politicians from small towns, and from the big rural states of the west, have no idea how cities – which now house the overwhelming majority of the American population – actually operate, on infrastructural, economic, socio-political, and even public health levels, and so they would be alarmingly out of place in the national government of an urbanized country like the United States.

I’m with Dave Winer on this one.

Interesting, but predictable results from an Economist poll of economists on the candidates. Here’s a bite:

A candidate’s economic expertise may matter rather less if he surrounds himself with clever advisers. Unfortunately for Mr McCain, 81% of all respondents reckon Mr Obama is more likely to do that; among unaffiliated respondents, 71% say so. That is despite praise across party lines for the excellent Doug Holtz-Eakin, Mr McCain’s most prominent economic adviser and a former head of the Congressional Budget Office. “Although I have tended to vote Republican,” one reply says, “the Democrats have a deep pool of talented, moderate economists.”

There is an apparent contradiction between most economists’ support for free trade, low taxes and less intervention in the market and the low marks many give to Mr McCain, who is generally more supportive of those things than Mr Obama. It probably reflects a perception that the Republican Party under George Bush has subverted many of those ideals for ideology and political gain. Indeed, the majority of respondents rate Mr Bush’s economic record as very bad, and Republican respondents are only slightly less critical.

Thanks to Matthew Nisbet for the link.

Susan Gibb raises pertinent questions in this post in her pursuit of Tomas in The Unbearable Lightness of Being. She writes

So Tomas has branded them [the Communists] as guilty; ignorance no excuse for action. Yes, I suppose I can justify the outrage, the blame-laying, and yet, there are degrees of guilt that should lessen the pain from the known and committed; the venial versus the mortal sin of the Catholic mind.

There’s another point to add to this. Tomas builds his thinking on Oedipus and concluded based on the king’s “not knowing.” But this is a special “not knowing”; it’s not meant, I don’t think, as a “should have known better” because, for Oedipus, the evidence pointed in every direction but to him. The special condition comes before with unconditional proof in the absence of proof, a stance of certainty, being so sure that paradise is just around the corner.

The special realm of poetry and fiction is not “to know” as a condition of being, but to consider and probe what is and or what presents itself. There are modern equivalents to the paradox of confidence or the paradox of faith and certainty.

We are drowning in them now.

I don’t know why, but I’ve found Importance of Achromatic Contrast in Short-Range Fruit Foraging of Primates strangely fascinating. Here’s a snip:

Despite these findings, behavioral observation of wild primate populations has given a limited support for trichromat advantage. In a study of wild mixed-species troops of saddleback (Saguinus fuscicollis) and mustached (S. mystax) tamarins, trichromats are further from their neighbors than their dichromatic conspecifics are during vigilance, which is explained through the potentially better perception of predation risk in trichromats [33]. Results of many other field observations are equivocal or opposite to the pattern expected of the trichromat advantage hypothesis.

One reason is the simplicity (but amazing complexity and importance) of the question: so what’s the advantage then of trichromacy?

By simplicity I mean: the basic questions matter still and still need pursuing. It’s a fascinating piece.

Thanks to Bora Zivkovic for the original link.

I keep asking myself, what is the angle behind the failbill?

What is the inverted syntax?

I’ve suspected this sort of thing too. And why not?

The way Davis sees it, the system has become dysfunctional. Bush has so destroyed the party’s public standing and Congress has become so infected with a win-at-all-costs mentality that there is no point in staying. “You know, the Cubs fans used to put the bags over their heads,” he told me when we met for eggs at Mickey’s Dining Car in St. Paul the first morning of the Republican National Convention. “That’s what I feel when you say you’re from Congress, because there are just so many things we’re not doing.”

This might be dismissed if it came from a fringe player on Capitol Hill, but for years Davis was one of the rising stars, a quintessential inside player who as part of the leadership managed to steer his party to election victories in even-numbered years while working with Democrats on legislation in odd-numbered years. He ran the House Republican campaign committee for two elections and later bypassed more senior congressmen to become chairman of the House Government Reform Committee until his party lost control of Congress. He spent a lifetime getting to this point and is now washing his hands of it, even as he foresees a fiscal reckoning after so much unbridled government spending, most recently to bail out Wall Street.

It’s not really the narrative that matters here. But the “kind” of work being done. Which doesn’t appear to be much. The votes mentioned sound like maneuverings.

From Michelle Goldberg

It was an appalling display. The only reason it was not widely described as such is that too many American pundits don’t even try to judge the truth, wisdom or reasonableness of the political rhetoric they are paid to pronounce upon. Instead, they imagine themselves as interpreters of a mythical mass of “average Americans” who they both venerate and despise.

In pronouncing upon a debate, they don’t try and determine whether a candidate’s responses correspond to existing reality, or whether he or she is capable of talking about subjects such as the deregulation of the financial markets or the devolution of the war in Afghanistan. The criteria are far more vaporous. In this case, it was whether Palin could avoid utterly humiliating herself for 90 minutes, and whether urbane commentators would believe that she had connected to a public that they see as ignorant and sentimental. For the Alaska governor, mission accomplished.

A wonderful conversation here between Shelley Jackson and Vito Acconci at The Believer.

From the perspective of, say, his Mur Island—a floating island in Graz, Austria, that is simultaneously bridge, theater, café, and playground—Acconci’s early poems look like odd little landscapes, with corridors and columns, through which the reader can stroll. Mur Island, in turn, looks like a poem. As a writer whose own words have a way of wandering off the page, I often ask myself why writing, of all the arts, is so narrowly defined. What new books might we write, if we could learn to use objects and spaces, buildings and bodies—the way Acconci learned to make architecture from words on a page?

I ran home yesterday from a wonderful gallery talk to watch Speech Night with Governor Sarah Palin and Senator Joe Biden. I caught the first part on the radio and watched the remainder on TV, and my impressions are that this is all pretty sorry stuff.

But what do we deserve? Not much else.

First the format. It was a speech session, not really a debate. Gwen Ifill asked a question and both candidates responded with a speech that had passing relation to the matter of the question. Interestingly enough, the questions set the stage for this. Here’s Ifill’s first question: “As America watches these things happen on Capitol Hill, Senator Biden, was this the worst of Washington or the best of Washington that we saw play out?”

Well, Gwen (I can call you by your first name, right), it was the worst of times and it was the best of times here in good ol Warshington.

This reads as a rhetorical question, as the subject “Washington” is fairly loaded and vague, as are “worst” or “best.”

And so the speech begins. Biden:

I think it’s neither the best or worst of Washington, but it’s evidence of the fact that the economic policies of the last eight years have been the worst economic policies we’ve ever had. As a consequence, you’ve seen what’s happened on Wall Street.

and Palin:

You know, I think a good barometer here, as we try to figure out has this been a good time or a bad time in America’s economy, is go to a kid’s soccer game on Saturday, and turn to any parent there on the sideline and ask them, “How are you feeling about the economy?”

It’s hard to believe that both speech makers were not aware of the questions before hand.

Second, the context and method. You could take two people who know absolutely nothing about economics and war, provide them with stock points and statistics, and you’d have pretty much the same result. It was a puppet show. Sarah Palin continually referred to the list she had on the lectern and recited nonsense regardless of the topic with “you can’t stump me” glee and Joe Biden, who has it all in his head, could sound a little more natural without the notes, but basically listed this and that when required, regardless of context.

None of this assists anyone. Nothing of intelligence and mental effort here, and, like a fool, I sat there watching hoping that the one I support didn’t make some major mistake (and would initiate debate points) and the one I think is a disaster waiting to happen would stutter with confusion.

Conclusion: Shame on me.

Susan Gibb on Tereza

It is the control of the relationship that is the lightness or weightiness that is at question here for Tereza. The burden she claims to carry which weighs on her, that is, the knowledge of his infidelity and attitude towards love and lovemaking, may in fact be the opposite; the freedom of not having to make that decision. Yet she is about to test that theory as she flirts with the notion of indiscretions of her own.

I’ve enjoyed my debate with Josh in the comment space of this post. Comment space isn’t the best place to keep things going so I’ve decided to pose a question to my friend. It’s basically become a question of epistemology: how is it that we can know something.

Here’s the poser from Josh

I also think the leading intellectual on evolution (whomever that is) and Karl Marx are inherently incorrect. As a Christian and a capitalist, how is it logical for me to read work from either of those persons as anything but incorrect?

For me, there is a simple response: you assimilate the arguments and when the logic and the conclusions have been proffered, you attempt to disprove the ideas, if possible. We can attempt to disprove the conclusion that comes with 2 + 2, but we should never consider that disagreement with the person is proof against their ideas. Krugman, the economist, may offer conclusions that the reader may not like, but the disagreement should come as a counterargument, which should involve two items: a counterclaim and analysis to back it up. Josh proposes that since he is a Christian, he must by reflex disagree with some leading intellectual on evolution. This I can’t comprehend, as I think there’s no epistemological relationship between belief and faith and the goals of science.

Our disagreement came down to one hinge: the essence of the financial crisis stems from too much regulation or political influence (Josh claimed it was the democrats’ fault) or an essential market/bubble argument (I argue that the casino lost it’s game). We both agree that the bailout shouldn’t happen.

From Janet Stemwedel.

To Prove: Is it [sic] not better to spend $700 billion helping middle-class families who are struggling with healthcare, housing, gas, and groceries–allow them to spend more and put more money into the economy–instead of helping these big financial institutions that played a role in creating this mess.

Proof

1. Healthcare reform is needed to shore up our economy. (premise)
2. Job creation is needed to shore up our economy. (premise)
3. One in five jobs created today are created in the trade sector. (premise)
4. Taxpayer money will fund the $700 billion bailout. (implicit premise)
5. Reducing taxes has got to accompany tax reductions. (tautology)
6. ???? (modus ponens?)
7. Job creation is trade is healthcare reform is tax relief. (constructive dilemma??)
8. Therefore, bailing out the big financial institutions is no worse than spending $700 billion helping middle-class families. (something here about “completeness”?)

An analysis of Palin’s response to a K Couric question.

From Steven Thomma

A majority of Americans think the United States isn’t winning the war on terrorism, a perception that could undermine a key Republican strength just as John McCain and Barack Obama head into their first debate Friday night, a clash over foreign policy and national security. A new Ipsos/McClatchy online poll finds a solid majority of 57 percent thinking that the country can win the war on terrorism but a similar majority of 54 percent saying that the country is NOT winning it.

Well, we’re no doing well on a couple of other fronts: stupidity and speculation, either. The fault here is not with strategy but with language. There is and has been no “war on terrorism” because such a grammatical object is false. You cannot fight metaphor. Such thinking can only be reactionary as the war would be lost with a single person’s act in some small out of the way place.

Still in bizarro world.