From Trump’s interview with Wall Street Journal

[The short version is that he’s rambling, incoherent, and counter-factual. You should read the whole thing, but you have to have access.]

President Trump: We have money that is pouring into our treasury right now, and on January 1 it’ll become much more so. And here’s the story: If we don’t make a deal, then I’m going to put the $200 — and it’s really $67 — billion additional on at an interest rate between 10 and 25 depending.

Mr. Davis: Including even iPhones and laptops and things that people would know?

President Trump: Maybe. Maybe. Depends on what the rate is. I mean, I can make it 10 percent and people could stand that very easily. But if you read that recent poll that came out, we’re only being – most of this is being – the brunt of it is being paid by China. You saw that.

Mr. Davis: Right. Right. I mean, well, you know –

President Trump: On the tariffs.

Mr. Davis: It depends, like, who –

President Trump: Look, I happen to be a tariff person.

Mr. Davis: Yeah.

President Trump: I happen to be a tariff person because I’m a smart person, OK? We have been ripped off so badly by people coming in and stealing our wealth. The steel industry has been rebuilt in a period of a year because of what I’ve done. We have a vibrant steel industry again, and soon it’ll be very vibrant. You know, they’re building plants all over the country because I put steel – because I put tariffs, 25 percent tariffs, on dumping steel.

Propaganda works by not looking like propaganda

You don’t get your information from propaganda. Your sources are good and objective and unbiased. You have a good and unbiased view of the overall political situation because you know what both sides think, and you’re clear that your side is more sensible.

So, let’s talk about why they are such sheeple and believe propaganda.

First, effective propaganda inoculates its viewers against criticism of the in-group, and it does so in two ways. Inoculation is the rhetorical tactic of presenting your audience with weak versions of out-group arguments—straw men, really—and persuading your audience that they shouldn’t even listen to the other side because their arguments are so bad.

Imagine that you believe that people should be able to have guns in easy access in case there are break-ins, and you can cite statistics about people who have protected their home that way. A medium opposed to gun ownership of any kind engaged in inoculation wouldn’t mention any statistics about people protecting themselves, and would say that, anyone who wants to have guns in their home for personal protection wants to take guns everywhere, including airplanes, and that would be incredibly dangerous, so it’s clearly a stupid argument. But they wouldn’t just say that—they would have a “debate” between people who want to ban all guns and some dumb jerk who says people should be able to take guns on airplanes.

So, viewers of that program would sincerely believe that they’d seen “both sides” of the debate when, actually, they’d watched propaganda. Really effective propaganda appears to present “both sides” by having stooges who argue for really dumb counter-arguments and actually confirm stereotypes about “those people.”

Second, propaganda spends a lot of time telling you how awful the other side is and (and this is the important point), saying they are so awful that you shouldn’t even look at them.

Vehement political criticism, as opposed to propaganda, spends a lot of time telling you how awful the other side is and (and this is the important point) providing links so you can see for yourself. What makes propaganda different from vehement political criticism is that propaganda says, “Rely on us for understanding what they believe” and vehement political criticism insists you read the primary material.

If you are watching media that spends a lot of time telling you how awful the other side is, and that has spokespeople who claim to represent that other side—instead of linking to the other side—you’re watching propaganda.

As Aristotle said, all things being equal, the truth will tend to emerge. And, oddly enough, one of the ways you can tell if a source is propaganda is by Aristotle’s rule—they make sure all things aren’t equal. They know that they have very fragile arguments that will crinkle up and die if exposed to the light of counter-arguments with data, and that’s why they spend so much time in inoculation. They don’t say, “Those people are idiots—go and look at what they’re saying.” They say, “Don’t go look at those sites or listen to those arguments because we will tell you what they are and they’re dumb.”

Any medium that says there is an out-group that is evil, and you should never listen to them, and doesn’t link to their arguments is propaganda.[1]

But, by refusing to link to their opposition, they’re making an admission too–that their claims can’t withstand scrutiny. Propaganda always throws around the term “objective” (it would be interesting to see whether Hitler or Stalin used that term more–it might be a dead heat). Claiming to be objective doesn’t mean you are. Having a good argument means that it can withstand argument–good arguments don’t need inoculation.

I’ve crawled around dark corners of social media, and the worst arguments in all sorts of enclaves have links to claims that support them, but never links to the opposition. They can support what they claim. Anyone can support any claim.

People think that propaganda is rhetoric that is obviously wrong and that has no evidence. But, were that propaganda, it would never work. Propaganda always has evidence and citations. What it doesn’t have is links to opposition sources; it doesn’t have fair representations of the opposition. It doesn’t make falsifiable claims.

The whole point of propaganda is not just to persuade people of your particular claims (since a lot of those claims change for political purposes), but that some media are reliable, and others are too toxic to touch. Propaganda isn’t about “believe this” as much as it is about “never listen to anyone who isn’t in-group.”

If you are relying on your source for what “they” believe, you are drinking deep at the well of propaganda. I hope that Flavor-Aid doesn’t stain your teeth.

[In case you’re wondering why I don’t have links in this post, it’s because my claim is that propaganda misrepresents the opposition and doesn’t link to them. I found, when I started making links, that I was still enforcing the notion that there are two sides, or that propaganda is an either/or rather than a continuum–that I had an opposition whom I should represent fairly. Since I really don’t want to endorse one “side” or another, as much as make a general point about argumentation, I thought that it would make more sense to strip off the links.]

When GOP rabid factionalists discover the concept of a qualifying phrase or clause

I believe in democracy, and that means that I believe that we reason best when we reason together. A good government strives to find the best ways to get good policies is to consider the impact of a policy from the point of view of all the citizens in our diverse world. I don’t think that people of my political group should dominate—my ideal political world is not one in which everyone agrees with me. My ideal political world is one in which people of all sorts of views engage in political argumentation with one another.

Conservatives share that value of an inclusive realm of argumentation, and they believe that we should be careful to conserve the traditions we have, and that we should move slowly when we come up with a new idea. Eisenhower, for instance, supported the Supreme Court in rejecting white supremacy, and insisted on respecting the Constitution, even when he didn’t like what it required him to do.

Eisenhower believed that being conservative meant that you worked as hard as you could to get your political agenda effected by using processes you would think legitimate if the other party used them. You conserved the processes.

The problem is that people who now identify as “conservative” (who perhaps are actuallyneo-conservative” or paleoconservative) don’t believe that we should be cautious about social change, nor that the restraints of the constitution should apply. They are trying to conserve their group, and their group’s status, and not the processes. Being conservative used to mean having a consistent principle about how to reason regarding social and fiscal policy. That isn’t what it means now. Now, calling yourself “conservative” means that you are irrationally committed to your party’s political policy and hate “liberals,” even when the policy flips (increasing the debt is bad if Dems do it, but fine if the GOP does it). Conservatives cannot express a principle that operates logically across all their claims.

Here’s what I’m saying: “conservatism” has ceased to be a principle or set of principles from which one decides policy, and has instead become a claim of rabid and irrational factional attachment to whatever benefits the current claims of the Republican Party.

So, to defend this policy, supporters of the current GOP will reason one way, but reason in a different—contradictory—way to support another GOP policy. This incompatible reasoning is particularly clear with the Second Amendment—that absolutist reading is not applied to the First Amendment, nor is there a consistent argument about the impact of bans.  In addition, to support the reading of the Second Amendment that it’s all guns all the time, GOP supporters ignore the qualifying phrase “a well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State.” Paying attention to that phrase would imply that gun ownership is connected to militia duties—a militia that is regulated. And the absolutist reading of the Second Amendment ignores the historical context of the amendment (such as the lack of police force, its importance for slaveholders, and its role in wars against Native Americans). [1]

But, when it comes to do with the 14th Amendment, suddenly there are arguments for thinking carefully about the historical context ,  and they’ve suddenly discovered the importance of a claim being grammatically (and logically) qualified.

Were the current talking points about the 14th Amendment part of a principle of how to read the Constitution, then they would be made by people who also pay attention to the qualifying phrase and historical context of the Second Amendment, but they aren’t. So they’re what scholars of rhetoric call “post hoc reasoning”—you have a position, and then you go looking for ways to support it. Post hoc reasoning is irrational.

Rabid supporters of the GOP, in their race to provide talking points to justify Trump, have missed the most disturbing aspect of what Trump is saying and doing: he wants to undo a long history of Supreme Court decisions by executive order. A sophomore in high school should know that the President can’t do that. It’s not just a violation of the Constitution, but of the principle on which the Constitution is based–of checks and balances.

If Obama had suggested such a thing, or shown such ignorance of the Constitution, the very people who are supporting Trump would have hit the streets screaming. A President who doesn’t understand his own powers, who wants to be able to control every aspect of the government, is an ignorant authoritarian. If he gets his way, and gets appointed hot-tempered rabidly factional justices who will make decisions that protect the President from being called in front of a grand jury (a tactic the GOP used against Bill Clinton)[2], from being required to be transparent about financial dealings that might violate the emoluments clause, and that would allow a President to pardon anyone in order to keep people from testifying about his dealings, he will set in place decisions that would benefit any corrupt President, regardless of political party. No sensible person wants that, regardless of party.

[1] The NYTimes article overstates the connection, in that the idea of having an armed populace that trained regularly and could be called up–a state militia–was not just for slavery. It was also related to fears of the British again attacking, a desire not to have a standing army, and conflicts with Native Americans. But, in the South, the main function of the militia was to protect against slave revolts and to attack Native American tribes who might have escaped slaves.

[2] And here I will confess to a deep and abiding loathing for Bill Clinton. So I’ll point out that, because paleoconservatives and neoconservatives like Trump’s political agenda, they’re letting him put in places processes that would prevent any investigation of a President like Clinton. Processes matter more than the immediate outcome.

If Dems are elected, they’ll do what we’ve been doing!

In the last few days, a common claim (what scholars of rhetoric would call a topos) has emerged among Trump and GOP loyalists, and it’s that, if Democrats gain the House and Senate, they will force their political agenda on the country, block Trump at every point, and be vindictive toward Republicans. And, because they will be so awful to us, we are justified in amping up the aggression of rhetoric and actions against them. In other words, Democrats will treat Republicans as Republicans have treated Democrats, and therefore you must act aggressively toward them as a kind of self-defense.

This argument will work. It generally does. It worked when Democrats used it (and Democrats have used it several times). It also worked when Athenians, proslavery rhetors, and Germans did it.

To people good at logic, it seems like an incoherent argument, but to people who think entirely in terms of in-group/out-group domination, it looks good. It’s also appealing to abusers, but that’s a different point. It’s a kind of pre-emptive self-defense.

And it works because it’s a way of resolving the cognitive dissonance created by the wobbling of a previous argument—that God wants us to triumph over our enemies, and anyone not fanatically committed to the political agenda currently determined to be the in-group desiderata is an enemy. Because we are engaged in God’s will, normal ethical conditions don’t apply—we can do to others things we would be outraged were they done to us.

An ethics of in-group domination is, so it is claimed, God’s will. And God will reward us for our destroying our enemies. Giorgio Agamben calls it a “state of exception” in which we are excepted from normal rules about behavior—we honor the law by not obeying the specifics of the law. We are open that the powers of government will be used to favor one political party, but, while doing that, we’ll claim that that party is really the only legitimate one—all real Athenians, Germans, Americans vote this one way.

Members of that party believes themselves entirely entitled to something (such as political domination of various other countries, enslaving other people, exterminating various groups, political domination within a state or country). So, while that party is in power, it is shameless in its harnessing as much of the governmental power as it can to further its interests and crush any other parties. And, this is the important part: it is a party that believes there are no restrictions on what it is entitled to do in order to get its way. That’s why it has no shame—because it thinks of the world in zero-sum terms (we either eliminate or are eliminated).

And, when its power begins to wobble, it begins to reckon with how the groups it has oppressed might feel about their oppression. And it projects onto other groups how it thinks of the world—you either eliminate or are eliminated. Because it can’t imagine a world in which disparate groups coexist, it assumes everyone else behaves the same way. Because it is a group with an inchoate reptilian brain way of responding to situations that makes everything zero-sum (if something benefits the other group it must hurt you), it assumes that the “other” group getting any power will mean that group will respond in just as eliminationist as they have.

If you have a propaganda machine that has been cranking up in-group fanaticism by reducing all issues to in-group/out-group, and presenting politics as a zero-sum (any gain on their part must be a loss for us)—in other words, Fox, Limbaugh, Savage, and all sorts of other media and pundits (Mother Jones, Keith Olbermann, Michael Moore)—and your claim of eschatological determinism means that you have been excepted from normal rules of ethics, then you are rhetorically boxed in. You can’t just say “We were wrong about this policy.”

You either have to say that you were wrong, not about your claims about policies, but your claims about how politics and thinking about politics works. If your audience thinks about how, you lose them, since how you’ve argued is obviously wrong.

So, what you do is persuade them that the Other is just as awful as you are, and will behave just as badly as you have. That’s the argument Cleon used to persuade people to endorse genocide (he lost on the second vote), it’s how proslavery rhetors argued for violating the property rights of slaveholders (by prohibiting the manumission of slave contracts), and it’s how Nazis argued for continuing the war when it had obviously been lost.

It should, therefore, be troubling that McConnell is now using this argument, and that it’s become a right-wing talking point.
One of the logical problems with it is that the only way that the audience can be fearful or outraged at the possibility of Democrats’ forcing their political agenda on the country, blocking the sitting President at every point, and being vindictive toward Republicans is if they don’t object to that kind of behavior in principle. They think it’s fine to do that to the other party, but they would never stand for being treated that way. They are thereby admitting it’s bad behavior.

But, they say, it isn’t bad because their group is good and the other is bad. Or, in other words, they think they should treat others as they would not want to be treated. They are, quite explicitly, rejecting any ethics (or anyone who would promote an ethics) that says you should do unto others as you would have done unto you.

The people who argue that democracy is based in Judeo-Christian ethics are, as any history of the Enlightenment makes clear, right in that the notion of universal human rights and fairness across groups was grounded in the notion (not particular to Christians or Jews, but supposedly a foundational value of both) that a deeply religious ethical system treats all groups the same, regardless of their religious (or political) affiliation.

They’re wrong about most other things, but they’re right about that. So, it’s interesting that that is the rule they’re so unwilling to follow.

The current GOP/support Trump talking point is that the Democrats will behave as badly as the GOP has. And that’s taken as a reason to vote GOP. Isn’t it actually a reason to condemn the current GOP? It’s actually an admission that the current GOP is shameless, unethical, and an open rejection of what Christ calls us to do. The GOP has officially rejected Christ. Since they claim the moral highground, that’s more than a little problematic.

Right-wing rhetoric as pre-emptive self-defense

The right has shifted to a very old kind of rhetoric—our political situation is one in which a war has been declared on us and our values.  Our attempts at self-defense have just riled THEM that much more, and they are now determined to exterminate us. They have moved from symbolic violence and political oppression to actual violence. Therefore, we are justified in trying to exterminate them from the political scene, because that is a controlled and measured response to their actually trying to kill us—no system of ethics, no sense of fairness, no concerns about legality or process should limit what political actions we take against THEM.

This never ends well.

It’s also never literally true. It’s only ever used by people in positions of power whose “existential threat” isn’t that they’ll be exterminated, but that they will lose their current political power (usually hegemony).

After all, a genuinely minority group, whose existence (as opposed to political hegemony) was threatened wouldn’t have as one of their responses the extermination of some other group. They wouldn’t have the power to make that happen. Only a group that has the ability to exterminate an out-group—that is, the group with the greatest political power–can make this threat a plausible basis for large-scale political action.

There isn’t a war on Christmas, or a war on Christians; Aryans weren’t threatened with extermination; slaveholders didn’t have to worry about a race war that would enslave them; the GOP doesn’t have to worry that “liberals” will storm gated communities. In all these cases, media worked their base into political violence against an out-group on the fallacious grounds that it was justifiable self-defense (the out-group intended to exterminate them). It wasn’t, and they weren’t. And we’re there again.

Currently, the right-wing propaganda machine is doing two things: preparing its base for a factional state of exception against any non-Trump supporters, and setting up the talking points to rationalize political and judicial violence against non-Trump supporters.

There’s a lot of talk right now about Nazis, and the right-wing talk about Nazis (and a non-trivial amount of left-wing rhetoric) gets it completely wrong.

Here’s what happened with Hitler: he said things a lot of people were saying, but he said it in a way that made many believe that he completely understood them, that he was a reliable ally against Marxism, that he would break the logjam of current politics, that he would cleanse the Agean stables of current politics by getting rid of all the bad people. In other words, he told people that politics isn’t a question of politics—that is, political discourse isn’t about argumentation regarding our policy options, but a question of identity. There are good people, and there are bad people, and politics is a question of getting good people (meaning Hitler) in place, and everyone having faith in his ability to get things done.

Politics, in this world, isn’t about policy argumentation, but about pure commitment to the person who seems to have good judgment about everything, including all political issues.

Hitler came across as a person with fanatical commitment to values a lot of Germans thought were good values—German hegemony, a revitalized military, economic autarky, crushing the left. He never supported his policy agenda with policy argumentation (he couldn’t). But, he persuaded a minority of people that he had a good plan; he persuaded a larger number of people that he was better than communists. Once he got into power, because the conservatives refused to acknowledge that democratic socialists are not communists, he enacted policies that made things better for a lot of people in the short-term.

And, because a lot of people liked the short-term what, they didn’t look into the how. Hitler improved the lives of many people in Germany, and granted the “Christian” right and the military a lot of what they wanted, so they went along with the politicization of the judiciary, the demonization of dissent, and the criminalizing of opposition political parties. They did so because, in the moment, they were getting what they wanted. They liked the outcome, but they were all eventually pulverized in the maw of the how to which they acquiesced.

It’s never about the what; it’s always about the how.

And one important part of Hitler’s how was his use of exterminationist policies justified as a kind of pre-emptive self-defense. Union leaders, communists, and democratic socialists were the first people rounded up by the Nazis, on the grounds that their beliefs constituted a threat to Nazis. The assertion was that they intended to exterminate Nazis, and therefore Nazis were justified in suspending constitutional rights in self-defense for a war that hadn’t yet happened. A lot of people don’t realize that the Holocaust and other serial genocides were justified as self-defense, against a group that, it was claimed, had been at war with Aryans already. Hitler and the Nazis insisted on calling the attack on Czechoslovakia a counter-attack. And many Germans, including the ones who might have been able to mount the kinds of protests to slow things down, didn’t protest because they liked their better financial situation, they liked the rollback of lefty policies (they liked the bans on homosexuality, birth control, and women’s rights), and they liked the sense that Germany didn’t have to apologize anymore. They liked being proud of being German. They liked winning.

For a long time, large groups of Americans have been mobilized to support any political figure who advocates banning abortion, regardless of anything else about that figure. If, that person also insists that gun ownership should be unregulated, and politics is about expelling or exterminating the out-group, they can count on a fanatical base. None of those slogans (they aren’t really policies) is defended through policy argumentation (the gun issue gets the closest, but it’s still pretty far away).

And they aren’t argued via policy argumentation because they can’t be—they’re incoherent. The argument is that abortion should be banned because it is bad, and so banning it will end abortion but banning guns will not reduce shootings and the constitution says gun ownership for militia members should be protected but that means that no one can restrict gun ownership at all but the first amendment doesn’t protect all speech so the theory underlying the NRA reading of the second amendment doesn’t apply to any other amendment but it’s a good argument and banning immigration will reduce immigration so banning works with abortion and immigration but with guns it just criminalizes the activity but that argument doesn’t apply to abortion or immigration because. Just because.

The NRAGOP (that is, the part of the GOP that dutifully repeats and acts on NRA slogans) insists that the second amendment be read as though any restriction on individual gun ownership in any public space is prohibited. But they don’t read the first amendment as providing the same protection for speech (see, for instance, their attempt to prohibit doctors from talking about guns in the household, the restriction of what the CDC can say about guns, or the contradictions about teachers’ first versus second amendment rights). So, yeah, the NRAGOP argument about the second amendment is not grounded in a consistent principle about how to read the constitution because the NRAGOP doesn’t read the first and second amendment the same way.

And anyone who says that banning guns is useless but banning abortion and immigration would be helpful doesn’t understand how major premises work.

When you can’t defend your policy agenda rationally, and the GOP can’t, because it can’t explain why it’s the party that tried to hang Clinton is not only supporting Trump, but Kavanaugh, and is enacting policies that increase the debt (while having gotten its panties into a bunch about the debt), can’t defend its contradictory readings of the first and second amendments, doesn’t support policies that would actually reduce abortion, and, well, the GOP can’t defend its policies rationally.

So, what it does is claim that the possibility that white fundagelical men might lose some of their power means that everything that matters about the US will be exterminated, and so people who support their political agenda should react in panic.

That’s proslavery rhetoric. That’s prosegregationist rhetoric. It’s hyperbolic and destructive.

If the GOP has a good policy agenda, then it can defend that policy agenda through policy argumentation. It doesn’t because it can’t.

And that’s important. The GOP can mobilize its base on all sorts of grounds, and can give talking points to your family and friends, in which they shift the stasis to which group is better, or who supports abortion, or whether HRC laughed about a rape, but what it can’t do is give them the means to engage in policy argumentation. Because their policy agenda is indefensible on those grounds.

Right-wing propaganda and being clever about resentment

Tucker Carlson on the protestors of Kavanaugh.  It’s kind of rhetorically brilliant.

One of the rhetorical problems that the Right Wing Propaganda Machine faces is that it is fueled by resentment–all of its rhetoric relies heavily on telling “real” Americans that they don’t work as hard, but get more; they look down on real Americans; they are living off the hard work of real Americans, while continually screwing them over. It’s called producerism, the notion that there are producers, and there are parasites, and it’s long been a staple of right-wing toxic populism (a rhetoric not limited to Republicans, as this book shows).

Producerism is a kind of tricky rhetoric to use unless you’re arguing for unions, and it’s especially tricky if you’re using it to you argue for policies that actively hurt the working class. And if you’re trying to use it to argue for a political party that is giving massive tax cuts to the rich, and you’re irrationally and blindly obedient to probably the laziest President in American history, how do you do that?

Carlson can’t argue that those are the children of rich kids, and thereby condemn rich kids, because there are rich kids in the White House, who are openly using their position in the White House to make themselves richer.

So, he picks two professions in the elite that his base likely hates: orthodontists and lawyers.

One of many fascinating things about the very calculated turn on professors (it started in the late 90s) is that it wasn’t just on the basis of professors being communists or atheists (since it’s easy enough to show that most professors aren’t communists or atheists) but as rich people who don’t really work. They are, as the interviewees in Cramer’s Politics of Resentment say, people who sit down to work, and who shower in the morning. That’s true of bankers, too, or hedge fund managers, or CEO, or Trump. The RWPM needs the rage of resentment, and needs it carefully turned away from being resentful of unjust tax cuts, Trump’s corruption, Graham’s allowing Trump to buy his compliance, so it has picked targets who can’t really fight back, aren’t really the problem, but about whom it’s easy to build up rage.

This is projection–there are people who are screwing over the working class, but it isn’t professor, orthodontists, or lawyers (well, lots of them are lawyers, so maybe I have to modify that). It’s a specific kind of projection: scapegoating. And it works.

 

What’s wrong with the “women should be afraid that their sons will be accused of rape” meme

[Edited to include the meme I’d seen elsewhere that I couldn’t find at the time I wrote this.]

The meme circulating is almost everything wrong with current GOP rhetoric (GOP rhetoric wasn’t always this bad, and being conservative does not mean you have to be stupid). It’s engaging in a false binary, shifting the stasis, asserting empirically indefensible claims, reducing  women to mothers (and, in some versions, wives), and fear-mongering. It’s also weirdly entangled in racist experiences of the justice system. And there is the really bizarre argument that Ford’s accusations can be dismissed because they’re politically motivated, which is a subset of the rape culture topos that rape accusers have bad motives.

Sometimes this meme is explicitly connected to Kavanaugh, and the accusation against him. And it’s sometimes asserted that a male can be convicted on the basis of a single woman’s word. While there are people arguing that Kavanaugh shouldn’t be confirmed because of this accusation, far more are arguing that his confirmation shouldn’t be, as the GOP is doing, rushed. They are calling for an investigation, perhaps by the FBI. Some are simply asking that Kavanaugh testify under oath about this incident. Some are saying that, in addition to his stance on Roe v Wade, he shouldn’t be confirmed. The reactions to the accusations about Kavanaugh don’t neatly split into two.

The dominant argument is that the charges should be investigated, exactly the opposite claim of the meme. So, this meme shifts the stasis from “we should slow down in this confirmation process” to “women are slutty mcslutfaces who love accusing men of rape because men go to jail over one slutty mcslutface’s word.”

[Edited to add: just to be clear, the argument that most critics of the process are making is that we should slow down this process, and investigate the claims. So, it isn’t critics of Kavanaugh who are cutting short an investigation–it’s his defenders.]

Obviously, women who make accusations of rape are more likely to have their lives destroyed than the men, but there are cases of men being charged who have been falsely accused of rape. And it’s true that major figures will weigh in and insist on punishment even before the trial, such as Trump’s false accusation against the Central Park rapists (which he’s never retracted). So, if you want to worry about someone in power who will make and refuse to retract irresponsible accusations of rape, you might look at Trump. It’s interesting that the cases that get so much media attention tend to be white men (Rolling Stone grovelled, but Trump never has, for instance). The media is very worried about the lives of white males whose lives might be ruined by rape accusations, less worried about how the lives of accusers are always in ruins, and meanwhile almost entirely ignoring that the real crime is convictions on the basis of false accusations. And, to be blunt, suburban GOP white women don’t need to worry that their sons will be convicted of rape on the grounds of the word of a single woman who has no supporting evidence.

There are mothers who need to worry about that, though–the mothers of the Scottsboro Boys, of course, the Central Park Five (whom Trump wanted executed). There are false accusations of rape, and, yes, men have spent a lot of time in prison over those false accusations. Men have been indisputably exonerated.

But the Kavanaugh confirmation has nothing to do with whether white men are falsely accused of rape. That’s the most cunning and wicked stasis-shift of all. Hearings are supposed to be about getting to the truth. As I crawl around the internet, I’m finding that one of the most common defenses of Kavanaugh is that Ford and her supporters have bad motives for their claims. For instance, they claim it’s suspicious that Feinstein delayed releasing the letter, although that’s clearly explained in the initial letter–she requested confidentiality until they could speak. (They don’t know that–they’re drinking the flavor-aid, and dutifully repeating the talking points they’ve been given, not realizing they’re uncritically repeating stupid arguments.)

But, here’s what matters: people who care about the truth don’t care about the motives of people. It doesn’t matter whether Ford has good or bad motives; what matters is whether what she says is true. (Or not, what matters is that the GOP and Kavanaugh’s response is they’re deep in rape culture.) When someone argues that Ford doesn’t get her claims to be investigated, they are openly saying that they favor rabid political factionalism over the truth.

And that’s where the GOP is these days. And it’s tragic. A healthy democracy has people of good will and intelligence reasonably arguing for various policies from various perspectives. The GOP is openly opposed to democratic deliberation.

They do it too!

It’s really common in a comment thread for someone to respond to a criticism of one group with a comment along the lines of, “The other group does it too.” So, for instance, if someone says, “Trump supporters are motivated by tribalism,” I’ll count comments till I get to the, “Liberals are tribalists too” or “Both sides engage in tribalism.” The unintentional irony of that response brings me a wicked pleasure.

It’s entertaining because it’s a response that only makes sense if you think of all political discourse as being about which of the two possible groups is better. In other words, it’s a response that assumes rabid factionalism.

Here’s what I mean: why is the person making that comment?

Imagine this exchange:

C: I’m going to vote for Clinton because Trump supporters are motivated only by rabid factionalism.

H: Clinton supporters are tribalist too.

That’s a discussion in which the “just as bad” response is relevant, because it’s showing that the major premise of C’s argument is inconsistent with his own actions—he’s claiming that his vote is motivated by a rejection of factionalism, so that he’s thinking of voting for someone who promotes factionalism is relevant. (I’m not saying the response is true, but it’s relevant to argue about whether they are just as bad.)

Imagine this one:

C: To win over Trump supporters, we need to show them how harmful his policies are to them.

E: That won’t work because Trump supporters are motivated only by rabid factionalism.

H: Clinton supporters are tribalist too.

H’s comment is completely irrelevant to the question of how to persuade Trump supporters. And it’s irrelevant twice over: 1) Clinton supporters could be carry pitchforks and torches and the most rabid factional supporters the world has ever known and it has no relevance for whether Trump supporters are too factional to be persuaded by argument, and 2) the world isn’t divided into Clinton supporters and Trump supporters.

For that comment to make sense, every single issue would be reducible to the relative goodness of the only two groups that constitute the American political realm. That’s how H sees it. H thinks he’s being “fair” and “objective” because he thinks he’s condemning both groups equally. He isn’t. He’s stuck within a limited and politically damaging ideology about purity and motives.

That is the attitude about politics–that all political disagreements can and should be about which of the two possible groups is better (and it’s a zero-sum relationship)—that fuels rabid factionalism.

Political discourse should be policy discourse. Displacing policy discourse with arguments about relative goodness doesn’t help.

 

Niemoller and the “atheists are bad because Nazis were atheist” argument

A lot of people love to quote Martin Niemoller, thinking he was a poet who wrote a poem that functions as a metaphor for complying with evil.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

There are various versions of it, some of which begin with the Nazis coming for communists first, and some with the Nazis coming for the Jews first. But, it wasn’t actually a poem. It was something that Neimoller said in lectures, because it wasn’t metaphorical—it was his narrative of what actually happened to him, and how he actually responded. And his whole point was that he was okay with what the Nazis did as long as he thought their policies didn’t hurt him. It was only when he ended up in jail that the problem with Nazis wasn’t their outcomes (which he liked till they hurt him), but their way. Their process was one to which he should always have objected, but he didn’t because he liked the outcome. Till he didn’t, and then he realized the process had been wrong all along.

Those processes were ones that could be used to hurt him, and so he should have paid attention to them.

I think that’s where we are. I think a lot of people are okay with Trump’s processes because they like the outcomes and they don’t realize those processes could hurt them. Niemoller realized, once he was in jail, that the ends don’t justify the means—because the means remain.

Here’s what Hitler promised: I will protect the in-group. I will institute a government that is not about fairness across groups; my policies will be entirely about promoting and protecting the in-group. That is a way  of determining policy: the government should protect and support people like me, and it’s not my business if official policy is something I would be outraged if applied to me.

Hitler said (and had always said), there are true Germans, and the German government should protect and promote their interests. That’s an argument (I will protect true Germans), and a way of arguing (laws should be applied differently depending on identity).

That second level is the one Neimoller bungled: he was fine with how the Nazis treated people until and unless it hit people like him (the Christian churches in Germany never objected to the treatment of Jews—they only mildly objected to the treatment of converted Jews; in other words, they only protected am in-group). Niemoller accepted the premised that, as long as your in-group is okay, the government is okay. Let’s think of that as the “argument from in-group/out-group” level. People might support Nazism because it seemed to support their in-group, and the hostile actions were against an out-group.[1] The way that Nazis operated—laws should be applied differently for in- versus out-group—was bad, but Niemoller was okay with it till he was a victim of that way.

This is what is important about Niemoller: his way of thinking was wrong. He was wrong because he was fine with a set of policies that applied to people that he didn’t want applied to him.

In other words, Niemoller was fine with other groups being treated in a way he would not want to be treated. It isn’t about what you’re doing; it’s about how you’re doing something. Are you treating others as you would think fair were you treated that way?

There’s a guy. He said in-group/out-group membership didn’t count. He said fairness across groups matters. Niemoller’s mistake was ignoring what that guy said, and that’s the point of his quote. People shouldn’t judge the actions of another (or a government) on the basis of whether we are harmed or benefitted at this moment, but whether we would think those actions just if applied across groups.

Hitler said (and all demagogues say), “I am you. You and I need to expel/exterminate this group that wants to exterminate us. Because they want to exterminate us, anything we do is justified.”

What Hitler did (and, to be blunt, all authoritarian demagogues do) is equivocate on the construction of that in-group. In-groups are often defined in the negative—we are this because we are not that. We take pride in not being that (to give a personal example, ELCA taking pride in not being Missouri Synod). In a culture of demagoguery, there is an out-group (Jews, communists) and any violence against that out-group is justified because they are toxic to the body politic. You demonstrate your commitment to the in-group by how much hate you express about the out-group.

When Hitler was coming to power, Niemoller was a conservative Lutheran pastor who thought the Nazis might be useful allies in regaining some of the ground lost under the socialist democrats, both in terms of the power of the church (especially Protestant) in material and cultural ways. He thought he was in Hitler’s in-group. And he thought that because there was so much rhetoric that said that there were only two sides: you could be an atheistic communist, or you could be Nazi. Hitler never argued against the many parties in the middle (including Democratic Socialists, who were not atheist, nor fascist, nor communist).

The socialists had been in favor of a separation of church and state, and so allowed secular public education, and Niemoller (and other religious figures) were worried about possibly additionally losing the substantial amount of money they got from the state. He believed, correctly, that the Nazis would not allow for the separation of church and state (whoops on how he read that belief), that they would insist on religion in the classroom, that they would have a government with an openly religious mission, and he thought he could work with them on the money issue. As far as cultural issues, Niemoller’s politics were far closer to the Nazis’ than to the socialists. He believed, correctly, that the Nazis would reinstate conservative policies regarding homosexuality, abortion, birth control, women’s rights, and religious intolerance. Niemoller was pretty typical in that regard. What that means, and this is important, is that Niemoller and people like him, because they weren’t willing to deal with a mild cutting back on their privileges, actively supported a regime that would eventually exterminate them.

And they did it because they were so obsessed with getting certain policy points–abolition of homosexuality, abortion, and birth control; a judicial system that (they thought) would promote their political agenda; financial benefits for the churches; protection of rabidly religious education—that they were willing to overlook how those policy goals would be attained.

But it’s the how that matters. Not just how policy was attained, but how people reasoned.

There is a talking point now that Nazis were atheists, and therefore atheists are bad, so, as long as we keep atheists out of office, we could never have a Holocaust. Hitler talked a lot about God, almost certainly sincerely, and, while he had some higher-level supporters who espoused atheism, most of the higher-ups were some kind of theist (even if neo-pagan), and, overwhelmingly, supporters of the regime were avowed Christian. Nazism was openly genocidal from 1939, and the genocides were not some kind of secret activity on the part of a few people. Genocide was the official and open policy of the Wehrmacht—the orders were to kill everyone who might be a political or ideological threat, and that “threat” was determined racially. People who identified as Christian stood by the side of a ditch and laughed as blood spurted from the layers of people they were killing. Had all the Christians refused to engage in genocide, the war would have ended in 1939. They didn’t. The Nazi regime was a Christian regime because most of the people enacting Nazi policies were Christian.

People who want to argue that being Christian makes someone a better person (really bad theology) and that, therefore, we should only have Christian judges and politicians, try to use Nazi Germany as an example as to why leaders should be Christian. The Nazi regime was atheist, they say, and it was bad, therefore regimes should be Christian. Not everyone in the Nazi regime was atheist, however, and most of the people who voted for, supported, and enacted Nazi policies were Christian. But, that argument is that Hitler’s entourage had a disproportionate number of atheists, and therefore atheists are dangerous. Or, Hitler’s entourage had a disproportionate number of non-Christians, and therefore this is proof that a predominantly Christian government is safe.

Here’s the problem with how people tend to argue (and it’s the problem Niemoller was trying to point to): it isn’t what you argue; it’s how you argue. For a long time, all he cared about was what people were arguing, and then he suddenly realized that what mattered was how they argued.

Milton Mayer’s troubling book They Thought They Were Free describes ten people who submitted to Nazism cheerfully, and who continued to believe that Hitler was good (but had bad advisors). It has a brilliant explanation as to why they continued to believe in Hitler, and one part of the explanation is that people tend to think in the short term as to whether they are, in this moment, better, and not whether the way they got the things they like is a good way. Mayer says that they believed “Adolf Hitler was good—in my friends’ view—up until 1943, 1941, or 1939, depending on the individual’s assessment of his strategy” (69-70). In other words, he was good for Germany until things started to go bad, but Hitler’s strategy was bad from the beginning—his was of deliberating, his plans for world domination, his racist policies. It’s as though they thought that drinking arsenic was great till the moment it killed someone—they didn’t acknowledge that the way Hitler ruled was always going to end up in an unwinnable war, racial extermination, and a devastated Germany.

There are a lot of ways to assess an argument; here I want to mention three. First, it’s a good argument because it’s made by someone you thinking is good. Second, it’s a good argument because it confirms your beliefs, and so it intuitively feels right. Third, it’s a good argument because the way it’s argued would be, you think, a good way to argue even if you didn’t like the outcome.[2] There is a similar division in terms of thinking about politics: you can decide that a policy is good because it’s advocated by someone you like; or it’s good because you’re benefitting from it here and now; or it’s good because the way it was argued and enacted and applied would be, you think, good even if you didn’t benefit from it.

The argument that Nazism was atheist fits into the first and second categories, but not the third. It is probably made by people you like, and it gets you a conclusion you like (Christians are good and Nazis are bad). But the way it’s argued—if you consistently applied that logic—would lead to your endorsing Nazi policies.

I say, “Kale is bad because I threw up after eating it.” If I sincerely believed that was a good way to argue, then I’d be willing to stop consuming anything that made me throw up. [In rhetorical terms, the enthymeme has a major premise I’ll support in other circumstances.] But, what if I threw up after drinking tequila? If I’m going to stick with the premise established in regard to kale, then I’d also conclude that tequila is bad (personally, I’d support that conclusion), in which case my argument about kale is logical. But, what if I ever want to drink tequila again (and, really, I’d say you should think about that), then my conclusion about tequila has a different premise from my argument about tequila.

In other words, the major premise of my stance about kale (things that make me throw up should be avoided) is not one I hold consistently, so it isn’t actually helping me make decisions about what to consume. It’s only helping me rationalize decisions I make for other reasons.

If I like tequila (really, why would you do that?), I’ll find lots of reasons to exempt it from the “it makes you throw up” argument I’m willing to make for kale. And that’s the important point, if I’m not willing to reason across kale and tequila, then I don’t have a logical argument. I’m just looking for reasons to hate kale and like tequila (don’t—don’t do that).

If my way of making decisions is to protect my commitments, then I will start with a premise (kale is bad), and I will just look for datapoints to support that premise. And here’s what’s important for thinking about how people reason—I will feel that I am logical in my feelings about kale since I can find lots of evidence to support my claim. You can find lots of evidence to support any claim, after all. What you can’t find (and this is where Infowars and conspiracy theories get it wrong), is evidence that you apply with consistent premises. But that’s a different pot. Here’s the point I’m making: if I’m not actually willing to apply my reasoning about kale to other things that make me throw up, then I’m not being logical; I’m just neck-deep in the swamp of confirmation bias.

It might be true that kale is bad, but kale being bad doesn’t confirm my way of reasoning. What I mean by that is that it might be true that Nazis are bad political leaders (they are), but that doesn’t mean that Christians are good political leaders. Nazis weren’t bad because some of the Nazi leaders were atheists; Nazis were bad because they were entitled authoritarian racist fascist militarist German exceptionalists who rejected any notions of universal human rights. The Nazi way of reasoning never changed, but its outcomes did—what Mayer shows is that, when that way got people what they wanted, it seemed good; when it didn’t it got bad. They didn’t see that the bad was the inevitable consequence of the apparently good.  The Nazi way of reasoning initially seemed good to Niemoller, because it got him what he wanted. But it wasn’t a good way, because it got him in jail. And then he saw it was bad—it was bad all along, but he didn’t see it till he was in jail.[3]

What the Nazis should teach us is that our group succeeding is not a good reason to support a politician—we should support politicians who advocate policies we would support regardless of whether they benefit us personally. And we shouldn’t just judge an argument as to whether it gets a conclusion we like; we should think about whether we would consider it a good way of arguing for everyone.

And that’s where the “Atheists are bad because the Nazis were bad” gets awful. That argument assumes that you can and should take disproportionate representation of some group in a bad power structure as proof that the group as a whole is evil. Nazis were evil, you reason, and a disproportionate were atheist, and so all atheists are dangerous. So, if that’s a good way to argue, then if a disproportionate number of leaders of Pol Pot’s revolution were left-handed, we should consider left-handed people evil. Or, if a disproportionate number of people in Lenin’s group were Jews, then Jews are bad.

And that is exactly how Nazis did (and do) argue. So, if you think that the presence of atheists in the Nazi regime is proof that Nazism is essentially atheist (regardless of the religious affiliations of the people who enacted Nazi policies) then you’re a Nazi. Lenin’s group had a disproportionate number of Jews, so, your logic says the Nazis were logical to say all Jews are essentially bad. That’s how you reason.

I’m not saying that you think Jews are essentially bad. I’m saying you’re Niemoller. Niemoller didn’t think Protestants should be jailed. But he didn’t like communists or socialists or Jews. And he knew that the Nazis would violate laws and act in authoritarian ways to exterminate out-groups. For a long time, he was only concerned with the outcome of their policies, and not the way they enacted their policies. Hitler was a liar, and had always been a liar, but, when Hitler told a lie Niemoller liked, Hitler’s way of arguing or administering didn’t matter. It was only when Niemoller ended up in jail that he realized Hitler’s way was wrong, and it had always been wrong.

The way matters. If you think that atheists can’t be trusted because leading Nazis were disproportionately atheist, then you think the Nazis were right about the Jews. Or, in other words, you aren’t really thinking.

[1] And here I have to stop and explain that sociologists use the in-group/out-group distinction in a very specific and useful way. People often use “in-group” to mean people in power, but sociologists use it to mean the group you’re in. So, while pitbull owners is not a politically central group, it’s an in-group for people who believe that owning a pitbull is an important part of their identity.

[2] I am in an intermittent state of rage as to how scholars in rhetoric talk about Aristotle’s ethos/pathos/logos—it’s read in light of logical positivists logic/emotion binary. If you read what Aristotle says about politics and ethics, however, I think you end up with something much more like what I’m saying here.

[3] I’d also say it matters because all scams—ethical or monetary—rely on getting people to ignore major premises. If you want to scam someone, you get them to reason the wrong premises. Someone sells you a bad car on the grounds that he’s a nice guy; someone gets you to vote for her on the grounds that she is like you; someone persuades you to buy property on the grounds that he’s sold other property that made money. Those are all arguments that rely on major premises that are obviously invalid.

Argutainment, bias, and democratic deliberation

I was talking with a colleague who exclusively consumes right-wing media, and mentioned a study, and he said, “Is it a good study? A lot of those people are biased.”

I was stunned. He doesn’t mind bias; he consumes nothing but biased media. I mentioned this to him once, and he said, “Oh, so the Communist News Network is better?”

When I’m arguing with someone on the internet, and persuade them that they’ve been repeating something entirely false (and, yes, it is possible to do that), I try to point out that they are getting their information from an unreliable source. If the person is repeating Fox/Limbaugh/Savage talking points, they’ll often say, “Oh, so you think I should watch MSNBC instead?” as though that ends the argument. If they’re repeating a DailyKOS/Mother Jones talking point, they’ll often say, “Well, at least it isn’t Fox News.”

I think their responses are important, and indicate just how far we are from a world in which we argue together. All of these responses above assume that you either get all your news from “conservative” sources or from “liberal” sources, and, however much conservative sources might botch things, they’re better than “liberal” ones (and vice versa). I’m not going to defend liberal sources; I’m going to argue that the underlying assumption (you either get your information from conservative or liberal sources) is the problem.

To make that argument, I’m going to have to set out a hypothetical example about a country whose public discourse is divided into Chesterians and Hubertians

And here’s why I have to use a hypothetical and deliberately silly example. There are a lot of people who believe that politics is entirely a question of whether the good people (their party) or the bad people (THAT party) triumphs, and so every political question turns into which group is better and/or whether a politician is us or them. You trust people who are “us” and you mistrust “them.” The second you smoke someone out as “liberal” or “conservative,” then you can dismiss everything they say. And you spend the whole time reading or listening to someone looking for the cues/clues that would tell you which side they’re on That’s bad for democracy. Very bad.

It’s bad because it’s inaccurate (no issue only has two sides) and it keeps people from thinking about in-group flaws (no side is entirely right).[1] That way of thinking about politics means you never hear criticism of your in-group[2] If I tried to use real examples to talk about our political discourse, most (all?) of my readers would spend all their time trying to figure out if I’m in-group (trustworthy) or out-group (unreliable). That’s how reading works in a polarized public sphere.

Because our current political situation is so polarized, and people are so trained to look for “bias” as “signs of group membership,”[3] I think it’s helpful to talk about two political figures: Chester and Hubert. Chester and Hubert agree that there is a squirrel conspiracy to get to the red ball (because duh), but they disagree as to whether little dogs are reliable allies against the squirrels.[4] Chester argues that all little dogs are evil, and Hubert argues that all dogs are potential allies, and rather likes a lot of little dogs.[5]

These were real dogs I had, huge, both of whom were obsessed with keeping the red ball from squirrels, and they really did have different attitudes to little dogs. Chester’s hostility was confirmed (for him) by some bad experiences. In other words, Chester assumes that every out-group member is hostile, aggressive, and must be handled with aggression (and he had reason to do so), and so he used his larger size to dominate others. Chester assumed a world of conflict, in which opposition had to be crushed even before it showed itself to be opposition. Again, it’s important to emphasize that he came to that conclusion because of experiences.

Hubert assumed that his larger size meant that he was safe, and that, if things got ugly, he would be fine. He came to that conclusion because of experiences—that he had been able to defuse potentially explosive interactions. Interestingly enough, he also had had bad experiences with little dogs, but he didn’t generalize to all little dogs from them (a point pursued elsewhere).

So, assume a world in which the voters are choosing between Hubert and Chester, and therefore we have a world of Hubertians, Chesterians, and the undecided, who sometimes vote one way and sometimes another.

Once you frame it that way, then any one of us can generate all of the political rhetoric while still half asleep: policy arguments reframed as identity arguments; treating bad in-group behavior as incidental but bad out-group behavior as essential; different standards for in-group and out-group; we’re rational, and they’re irrational; we have good motives, and they have bad ones, and so on. I won’t go into all those, but just want to emphasize four connected ones that aren’t always obvious: the explanation of all politics as a zero-sum conflict between good (in-group) and bad (out-group) so that every argument can be settled through evidence that the in-group is better than the out-group (even if in ways completely unrelated to the issue at hand); once that is the stasis for every political argument, then a kind of retroactive fairness can get invoked (more on that below); finally, the in-group = good/out-group = bad means that people choose to live in informational enclaves thinking they’re getting all the information they need (via inoculation); fourth, and finally, that means that the solution is not to try to find the single right source. It means looking for reasonable sources that will critique your views.

1. The explanation of all politics as a zero-sum conflict between good (in-group) and bad (out-group) so that every argument can be settled through evidence that the in-group is better than the out-group (even if in ways completely unrelated to the issue at hand)

The basic assumption is that the entire world can be divided into good and bad people and that all the good people join the good political party. There is also an assumption that good people always make good choices, and therefore support good policies. So, you can end all political arguments by pointing out that the other group supports a bad thing (any bad thing, even if completely unrelated to the policy under discussion). And, if any policy benefits the other side is any way (or is supported by them) it must mean it hurts us, and is therefore bad. Because the out-group members are all the same, anyone not in-group is out-group and so can be used to characterize what the out-group really is.

There are a lot of problems with that view, including that there aren’t two oppositional sides in a zero-sum relation.

In this world—in any world—there are multiple disagreements. There might be, for instance, Chesterians who think little dogs should be expelled from the nation, although that isn’t what Chester thinks or says. There might be Hubertians who think that, since little dogs and squirrels are kind of alike, we shouldn’t be worried about squirrels.

Chesterians will use the existence of squirrel sympathizers to condemn Hubert as a squirrel sympathizer. Chester TV will do nothing but quote squirrel sympathizers when they represent Hubert’s views, and they will give endless publicity to any Hubertian squirrel sympathizer. If they can, they will clip Hubert’s speeches to make him seem like a squirrel sympathizer. They won’t show Hubert disagreeing with sympathizers (or, if they do, they’ll frame it as dishonesty).

Hubertians will use the existence of Chesterian expulsionists to condemn Chester as an expulsionist. Hubert TV will quote Chesterian expulsionists when they represent Chester’s views, and they will give endless publicity to any Chesterian expulsionist. If they can, they will clip Chester’s speeches to make him seem like an expulsionist. They won’t show Chester disagreeing with expulsionists (or, if they do, they’ll frame it as dishonesty).

Chesterians who only watch Chester TV and Hubertians who only watch Hubert TV will be deliberately misinformed about Hubert and Chester, while firmly believing that they aren’t because they have evidence. They can point to Hubertians and Chesterians (or Hubert/Chester quotes), and so they will believe that their position is rational and true.

The moment you believe the lie that there are only two sides is the moment you agree to drink Flavor-Aid. You might choose your flavor, but you’re drinking.

2. Once we agree that all political debates are about which group is better, then a kind of retroactive fairness can get invoked

Imagine that, in this rabidly factional world, Chesterians storm Hubertian rallies with bricks and bats. In response, Hubertians do the same to Chesterians.

Chester TV will cover the later violence of Hubertians as proof that the former violence of Chesterians was justified.

One of the more confusing talking points I ran into on the Michael Brown shooting was that Brown had committed a crime and therefore whatever the police officer did to him was justified.[6] The police officer didn’t know that Brown had committed a crime at the time of the shooting, something people making this argument granted, but didn’t think it was relevant. Their point was that Brown deserved what he got because he was a bad person, as shown by the later revelation of his shoplifting.

Of course, death is not the penalty for shoplifting, and we are supposed to be in a world in which people are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, but what was done to him was just because of information not known at the time.

This has puzzled me a lot, but I think I now understand it. The Chesterians don’t see their violence as having provoked the counter-violence on the part of Hubertians. They see their violence as a kind of pre-emptive revenge. They were right to have engaged in violence because the Hubertians were going to have engaged in  violence someday anyway.

The later violence on the part of Hubertians was proof that they were hostile to Chesterians all along.[7] This explanation will make sense to viewers of Chester TV because Chester TV has presented Hubertians as essentially violent all along. When Chesterian political figures and pundits say, “The best cure for our politics is to shoot a few Hubertians every day!” Chesterians interpret such statements as metaphorical and hyperbolic (regardless of the number of Chesterians who proceed to go out and shoot Hubertians). But, when Hubertians say, “The best cure for our politics is to shoot a few Chesterians every day!” Chesterians interpret such statements as literally calling for violence against them. Thus, they can justify literal violence against Hubertians on the grounds that it is self-defense, regardless of the actual chain of events.

Viewers of Chester TV will have heard an uncountable number of Hubertians calling for violence, so their view of Hubertians as essentially violent will seem to be entirely rational—they can easily recall lots of evidence to support that perception. Their perception of Hubertians will seem to be entirely rational and true.

3. The in-group = good/out-group = bad means that people choose to live in informational enclaves thinking they’re getting all the information they need (via inoculation)

And here I’m back at the beginning: why do people who consume nothing but rabidly factionalized media criticize other media for being biased? Clearly, they have no objection in principle to biased media.

There are, loosely, two reasons: first, they’re naïve realists, who believe that they (and they alone) have unmediated perception of The Truth; second, inoculation.

As to the first, if Hubertians believe that The Truth is always obvious to good people, and, of course, they think Hubertians are good people, then anything on which all Hubertians agree is The Truth. Duh. Hubertians believe that Hubertians are justified in anything they do, and so it is simply a reality and a fact that Hubertians’ values should be the basis of all judgment. So, Hubertians should have free speech to say anything any way they want in any circumstance, because Hubertians are objectively right, by virtue of being Hubertians. Hubertian protests are justified; Chesterian protests are disruptive. Hubertians who destroy property and disrupt processes are freedom fighters; Chesterians who do that are terrorists. Hubertian protestors who wear masks are justified because oppression; Chesterian protestors who do so are villainous. How do you know? You just ask yourself. A viewer of Hubert TV, who had been told that even listening to Chester TV or thinking Chesterians might have a point is ridiculous and disloyal, would be able to recall dozens of examples of the inherent and essential goodness of Hubertians, and therefore know that zir stance on the inherent and essential rightness of what Hubertians are doing is just simply and obviously true to anyone willing to look at the facts. That is naïve realism.

In case it’s unclear, I’m saying that both Chester TV and Hubert TV are propaganda. But, no one willingly consumes propaganda, so why wouldn’t the respective viewers go for a non-propaganda source?

Because really effective propaganda presents itself as giving “both sides.”

Notice the “both sides” move. Propaganda reduces the complexity of available positions to “us” versus “them.” And it then presents itself as being “fair” by claiming to present an accurate version of what “they” think. On the contrary, it presents four views of the “other side:” 1) quotes (sometimes strategically clipped, but not always) of extreme and generally marginalized positions that can be presented as perfectly representative of “the other side;”[8] 2) bad paraphrases, strategically truncated quotes, or humorless repetitions of things major figures have said; 3) broad generalizations about how they hate us; 4) weak versions of “their” criticisms of in-group policies and candidates. The third one is interesting—any criticism of an in-group policy or individual is reframed as an attack on all of “us.” Once an audience is trained (and the whole point of propaganda is to train people), then the audience looks for signs of someone being out-group, and then, if they determine the rhetor is out-group, they don’t even notice what argument that rhetor is actually making, because they believe they already know what any member of the out-group has to say.

So, Chester TV has some “Hubertian” pundits (they probably aren’t), and they’re idiots, and they make stupid arguments. The “debate” between them and the Chesterians has three parts: first, Chesterians making arguments that fit with the claims and values Chester TV always promotes (so, to Chesterians, those speakers would seem to be “objective” and saying “true” things); second, “Hubertians” (they aren’t) making weak arguments ; three, the Chesterians pundits summarizing the Hubertian arguments (thereby creating a kind of vocabulary—here’s how to talk about Hubertian arguments; here are the words that signal a Hubertian). There might be other parts of the show in which marginalized out-group members are shown saying outrageous things (but are identified to the audience as representative of the out-group) and mangled or truncated or willfully misinterpreted quotes of major out-group figures.[9]

This process is called inoculation.[10]

Inoculation works by giving people a weak version of a virus they will later encounter. When they encounter the strong version of the virus, the body, having been prepared by its encounter with the weak version, doesn’t even let that shit in the door.

Rabidly factional Hubertians don’t want Chesterians to get any votes or support, and won’t grant that any of their concerns might be legitimate. But, really, once we’ve divided all possible political positions into two groups, we’ve almost certainly included some positions in the out-group that have some merit.

Chesterians might be wrong about little dogs, but still might have some legitimate concerns about whether little dogs can really effectively protect the red ball from squirrels. And they might be able to make good arguments about those legitimate concerns. A Hubertian committed to democratic deliberation would want those concerns voiced, heard, and interwoven into the public deliberation.

A rabidly factional Hubertian wouldn’t want anyone to think that Chesterians might ever be right, so they’d need to try to train their audience to dismiss unheard, not only any Chesterian argument, but any criticism of Hubertians. And, so, rabidly Hubertian media would engage in the four moves above—they’d inoculate their audience against listening to anything a non-Hubertian might say.

That’s how political inoculation works (when it works). Chester TV and Hubert TV present their viewers with weak versions of the out-group arguments, and some cues as to out-group identity. Thus, when a Hubertian, call her Emma, hears anyone say something that could be interpreted as negative about little dogs, she thinks, “Ha! A Chesterian! They think all little dogs are squirrels, and that’s a stupid argument, so this person is stupid, and I shouldn’t listen to them!”

Emma sincerely believes she’s being fair in that dismissal because she sincerely believes she’s listened (with an open mind) to Chesterian arguments. Hubert TV, after all, has a show that she watches regularly in which Chesterian and Hubertians debate. What she doesn’t know is that she’s only exposed to the stupidest Chesterian arguments.

And she will never figure that out if: 1) she thinks all argument can be reduced to Chesterian and Hubertian, and 2) she doesn’t actively seek out the best Chesterian arguments. Just changing the channel to a Chesterian one won’t work because she’s been inoculated.

4. Fourth, and finally, that means that the solution is not to try to find the single right source. It means looking for reasonable sources that will critique your views.

If Emma decides to see “both sides” for herelf, and tunes in to Chesterian propaganda, she won’t go away with a useful understanding of the realm of possible political views.[11] In fact, it will confirm for her that Chesterians are all idiots since what she’ll see will be stupid versions of Hubertian arguments..

Personally, I think no one should rely entirely on TV for information about politics. And here I should engage in full disclosure. I stopped watching TV news a very, very long time ago. I did the math and realized that 30 minutes of news was 22 minutes (at best) once the ads were taken out. Then take out sports, weather, the cat in a tree (aka human interest), and you’ve got at most eleven minutes of actual news, or around 1500 words, with no sources. In 30 minutes, you can get through between 3750 and 7500 words, depending on your reading speech. Turn off the TV and pick up a newspaper, in other words. Or, better yet, go to an online version that has links to the original sources.[12]

I think a lot of political TV is just the two minutes hate, but I also think that there’s nothing inherently wrong with the two minutes hate, if you know that’s what you’re doing. Political TV is infotainment, and as long as we remember it’s a subset of entertainment, that’s fine. The two minutes hate is about believing that your in-group is entirely right, and therefore you can feel deeply certain that you are entirely right, and you are always and in every way better than the out-group. If you need to spend more than two minutes believing those (very false) things, then there are some very concerning issues, and I’d like to sell you shares in the Brooklyn Bridge, because you’re poised to make a lot of really bad decisions. Basically, all cons appeal to that premise, and so you’re easy to con.

Here’s the important point about making decisions: your decision is wrong. You are wrong. I’ve said a lot of things in this piece that are wrong, but I don’t know it now.

We’re always wrong on little things, because there is no decision that is entirely right, but we’re also necessarily going to be wrong about big things. We have all made bad decisions, wrong assertions, and unjust accusations. It’s just that some of us are willing to admit it, and other aren’t.[13]

Cognitive psychologists emphasize cognitive biases. There is no human who can look at the world without bias or prejudice (there probably isn’t any animal that can do that): you look at this experience in the light of previous experience. You are “biased” by what you have already done, what you believe, and who you are.

There are two biases that are particularly important for the point I’m trying to make: what social psychologists call the fundamental attribution error (the notion that other people are transparent to us) and in-group favoritism.

I’ll start with the second, since it’s actually the cause of the first. We think we’re good people with good motives, so we think that people who are just like us (and who like us) are also good people.[14] When you watch Hubert TV, you’re predisposed to agree with everything if you’re Hubertian, because you believe deep in your soul that you’re getting your information from good people, no matter how much you tell yourself you’re being objective.

However, imagine that the Hubertians fling themselves around about a prominent Chesterian whose wife has appeared in public with bare arms. And then imagine Hubert TV  goes on to support a Hubertian whose wife has porn photos. How does Hubert TV manage the cognitive dissonance? They got their base worked into a frenzy about bare arms, and now they have to deal with porn photos?

Inoculation. Hubert TV  never shows the photos, and they have sufficiently inoculated their base against any site that says anything about the photos, so that they would never click on the link. Their base can continue to feel moral outrage about Chesterians who had a wife with bare arms while they support a Hubertian who has a wife who actually has porn photos.

And I can say, from experience, that, when confronted with that information, Hubertians will dismiss it on the grounds that Hubertt TV hasn’t shared it. They say, Chester TV is presenting this information because they’re out-group. The source of the information means the information can be dismissed (the genetic fallacy). That’s in-group favoritism.

Imagine a slightly less dramatic example (moral outrage over bare arms versus justifying porn photos),. Imagine two candidates for President who face accusations that they groped women. Imagine that there is plausible evidence that the Chesterian candidate groped women (although there is dispute about consent). Imagine that Hubertians made political hay of this, and tried to get that President impeached. Imagine that they then thoroughly supported a candidate who bragged that he groped women without their consent.

At this point, Hubertians have to admit it’s entirely tribal. There is no logical world in which their outrage is principled: it’s factional.

Hubertians could try to claim a sort of retroactive vengeance (Chesterians said adultery was okay, so it’s okay if our candidate had rapey adultery), but the fundamental attribution error enables a different strategy: give bad motives to the out-group and good motives to in-group members. An out-group member who lies about his adultery is evil, but an in-group member is protecting his family.

And motive is the Bermuda Triangle of argument, where everyone is lost, because it just ends up being a reiteration of in-group=good and out-group=bad.

As long as the question (what rhetoricians call the stasis) of political discourse is: is the person making this argument in-group or out-group, then democracy is gerfucked.

As long as people get all of their information from a source that says that THIS source is all you need, then they are suckers.

As long as people think that political issues are really identity and motive issues, and it’s a good idea to get all their information from in-group sources, they’ll end up drinking someone’s flavor-aid. Instead of trying to pick whose flavor-aid, it would be better for us to try to get away from tribalism and move toward a sense that we are a democracy. All citizens matter, and so genuinely good public policies aren’t grounded in some notion that only in-group members are really citizens—maybe we should all try to find the solutions that, on the whole, honor the needs of all current and future citizens. Maybe, instead of trying to do down the other, we should try to think about what makes the US a city on a hill for how democracy can find good and inclusive solutions.

[1] “In-group” doesn’t mean the group that’s in power—it means the group you’re in. So, for fans of Limbaugh, other fans of Limbaugh are the “in-group;” for fans of Maddows, other fans of Maddow are the “in-group.”

[2] You can think you are. Cunning versions of one-party propaganda include what appears to be criticism of the in-group, and a lot of descriptions of Their criticism of in-group politicians, so people who are completely in an enclave genuinely think they’re not. More on that later. Here I’ll just mention that one of my favorite examples of this is how the Weathermen engaged in a lot of self-criticism, for not being radical enough. That kind of self-criticism made people feel that they were “objective” about their practices.

[3] A practice encouraged by way too many argumentation courses and textbooks. But that’s a different rant.

[4] Yes, I said there aren’t issues with two sides, and then seem to have presented an issue with two sides. Of course, this controversy would have far more than two sides: those who argue that the red ball doesn’t matter, that albino squirrels are allies, that we should distinguish between small dogs and toy dogs, that cats have a role to play, but I put it into two because, in the US, it will come down to two candidates for President who will ask for a vote.

[5] And here I have to explain the origin of this example (since the Chester FAQ—probably the single-most read thing I’ve ever written—has disappeared). Chester was a Great Dane/shepherd mix, built for comfort and joy, who loathed little dogs. And while it’s true that big dogs are astonishingly often attacked by little dogs (especially when the big dogs are on leash), and while it’s also true that the whole experience of the little dog who went under Chester and bit his scrotum would be traumatizing, it’s also true that Chester unfairly assumed that all little dogs had bad intentions. Hubert (a Great Dane), who agreed about squirrels being evil, and who agreed about the importance of the red ball, got along fine with little dogs. He got along well with all dogs, including ones who attacked him. Sure, he got attacked by little dogs a lot (seriously, anyone with a big dog can tell you this is common), and a couple bit him and drew blood, but he always responded by looking at them with a kind of, “Really? You want to do this?” He broke up fights in dog parks by running into the midst of the fight and looking at all the dogs in the fight with that same, “Really? Do you want to go there?”

[6] This was not the argument that Brown had assaulted the police officer. The people I came across making this argument were saying that the officer was justified in shooting him because Brown had shoplifted.

[7] This makes sense if you don’t think of groups as evolving, but as ontologically-grounded and therefore permanent identities–actions as signs of those identities.

[8] Rush Limbaugh gave Andrea Dworkin more attention than she ever got in feminist theory classes; he loved quoting her out of context, as though feminism = Dworkin. I still run across references to her as though all feminists believe everything misogynists think she is supposed to have believed. Lefties regularly quote the “we create reality” as though it means something the speaker clearly didn’t mean. That is a meme that won’t die.

[9] At this point, you’re probably thinking of examples of out-group media doing what I’m describing, and you’re right, it does. But you have liked, shared, retweeted, or believed something that made all these moves, regardless of your political affiliation. If you think you haven’t, you’re just that much more of a sucker. I’m not saying everyone is equally suckered, or “both sides do it just as much” (I keep saying there aren’t two sides, so I’d never endorse any “both sides” argument).

[10] Seriously, I think, second to the notion of philosophical paired terms, it’s the most important rhetorical concept for understanding what’s wrong with our political deliberation.

[11] I think tuning in to opposition propaganda is useful, in that it helps one recognize the current talking points, but it doesn’t help a voter think effectively about policy issues.

[12] It’s also useful to try to find the smartest version of various policy positions—instead of watching Fox News, read The Economist or The Wall Street Journal (or studies published by the Cato Institute or the Heritage Foundation); The Nation is good for social democratic policy advocacy, New York Review of Books for third-way neoliberal. Reason is generally the best source for Libertarian—the list could go on.

[13] Propaganda says your only bad decisions involved not being committed enough to the in-group. Really cunning propaganda invites you to be slightly attracted to an argument they then identify as out-group, so that you then are more fiercely committed to the people who will tell you what to believe (the Weathermen were really masters of this; so is Fox—honestly, it’s kind of breath-taking it’s so skilled).

[14] This is why douchey salespeople will compliment your taste in whatever they’re selling, and will try to find a way to bond with you quickly; they’ll often do it by bonding with you about how much the both of you look down on some other group, but that’s a different post.