michael crichton: why speculate?

July 2005 № 332

A talk by Michael Crichton

There are two times in a man’s life when he should not speculate: when he can’t afford it and when he can.
—Mark Twain

My topic for today is the prevalence of speculation in media. What does it mean? Why has it become so ubiquitous? Should we do something about it? If so, what? And why? Should we care at all? Isn’t speculation valuable? Isn’t it natural? And so on.

I will join this speculative trend and speculate about why there is so much speculation. In keeping with the trend, I will try to express my views without any factual support, simply providing you with a series of bald assertions.

This is not my natural style, and it’s going to be a challenge for me, but I will do my best. Some of you may see that I have written out my talk, which is already a contradiction of principle. To keep within the spirit of our time, it should really be off the top of my head.

Before we begin, I’d like to clarify a definition. By the media I mean movies, television, Internet, books, newspapers and magazines. Again, in keeping with the general trend of speculation, let’s not make too many fine distinctions.

First we might begin by asking, to what degree has the media turned to pure speculation? Someone could do a study of this and present facts, but nobody has. I certainly won’t. There’s no reason to bother. The requirement that you demonstrate a factual basis for your claim vanished long ago. It went out with the universal praise for Susan Faludi’s book Backlash, which won the National Book Critics Circle Award for General Nonfiction in 1991, and which presented hundreds of pages of quasi-statistical assertions based on a premise that was never demonstrated and that was almost certainly false.

But that’s old news. I merely refer to it now to set standards.

Today, of course everybody knows that “Hardball,” “Rivera Live” and similar shows are nothing but a steady stream of guesses about the future. The Sunday morning talk shows are pure speculation. They have to be. Everybody knows there’s no news on Sunday.

But television is entertainment. Let’s look at the so-called serious media. For example, here is The New York Times for March 6, the day Dick Farson told me I was giving this talk. The column one story for that day concerns Bush’s tariffs on imported steel. Now we read: Mr. Bush’s action “is likely to send the price of steel up sharply, perhaps as much as ten percent…” American consumers “will ultimately bear” higher prices. America’s allies “would almost certainly challenge” the decision. Their legal case “could take years to litigate in Geneva, is likely to hinge” on thus and such.

Also note the vague and hidden speculation. The Allies’ challenge would be “setting the stage for a major trade fight with many of the same countries Mr. Bush is trying to hold together in the fractious coalition against terrorism.” In other words, the story speculates that tariffs may rebound against the fight against terrorism.

By now, under the Faludi Standard I have firmly established that media are hopelessly riddled with speculation, and we can go on to consider its ramifications.

You may read this tariff story and think, what’s the big deal? The story’s not bad. Isn’t it reasonable to talk about effects of current events in this way? I answer, absolutely not. Such speculation is a complete waste of time. It’s useless. It’s bullshit on the front page of the Times.

The reason why it is useless, of course, is that nobody knows what the future holds.

Do we all agree that nobody knows what the future holds? Or do I have to prove it to you? I ask this because there are some well-studied media effects which suggest that simply appearing in media provides credibility. There was a well-known series of excellent studies by Stanford researchers that have shown, for example, that children take media literally. If you show them a bag of popcorn on a television set and ask them what will happen if you turn the TV upside down, the children say the popcorn will fall out of the bag. This result would be amusing if it were confined to children. But the studies show that no one is exempt. All human beings are subject to this media effect, including those of us who think we are self-aware and hip and knowledgeable.

Media carries with it a credibility that is totally undeserved. You have all experienced this, in what I call the Murray Gell-Mann Amnesia effect. (I refer to it by this name because I once discussed it with Murray Gell-Mann, and by dropping a famous name I imply greater importance to myself, and to the effect, than it would otherwise have.)

Briefly stated, the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect is as follows. You open the newspaper to an article on some subject you know well. In Murray’s case, physics. In mine, show business. You read the article and see the journalist has absolutely no understanding of either the facts or the issues. Often, the article is so wrong it actually presents the story backward—reversing cause and effect. I call these the “wet streets cause rain” stories. Paper’s full of them.

In any case, you read with exasperation or amusement the multiple errors in a story, and then turn the page to national or international affairs, and read as if the rest of the newspaper was somehow more accurate about Palestine than the baloney you just read. You turn the page, and forget what you know.

That is the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect. I’d point out it does not operate in other arenas of life. In ordinary life, if somebody consistently exaggerates or lies to you, you soon discount everything they say. In court, there is the legal doctrine of falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus, which means untruthful in one part, untruthful in all. But when it comes to the media, we believe against evidence that it is probably worth our time to read other parts of the paper. When, in fact, it almost certainly isn’t. The only possible explanation for our behavior is amnesia.

So one problem with speculation is that it piggybacks on the Gell-Mann effect of unwarranted credibility, making the speculation look more useful than it is.

Another issue concerns the sheer volume of speculation. Sheer volume comes to imply a value which is specious. I call this the There-Must-Be-A-Pony effect, from the old joke in which a kid comes down Christmas morning, finds the room filled with horseshit, and claps his hands with delight. His astonished parents ask: why are you so happy? He says, with this much horseshit, there must be a pony.

Because we are confronted by speculation at every turn, in print, on video, on the net, in conversation, we may eventually conclude that it must have value. But it doesn’t. Because no matter how many people are speculating, no matter how familiar their faces, how good their makeup and how well they are lit, no matter how many weeks they appear before us in person or in columns, it remains true that none of them knows what the future holds.

Some people secretly believe that the future can be known. They imagine two groups of people that can know the future, and therefore should be listened to. The first is pundits. Since they expound on the future all the time, they must know what they are talking about. Do they? “Brill’s Content” used to track the pundit’s guesses, and while one or another had an occasional winning streak, over the long haul they did no better than chance. This is what you would expect. Because nobody knows the future.

I want to mention in passing that punditry has undergone a subtle change over the years. In the old days, commentators such as Eric Sevareid spent most of their time putting events in a context, giving a point of view about what had already happened. Telling what they thought was important or irrelevant in the events that had already taken place. This is of course a legitimate function of expertise in every area of human knowledge.

But over the years the punditic thrust has shifted away from discussing what has happened, to discussing what may happen. And here the pundits have no benefit of expertise at all. Worse, they may, like the Sunday politicians, attempt to advance one or another agenda by predicting its imminent arrival or demise. This is politicking, not predicting.

The second group that some people imagine may know the future are specialists of various kinds. They don’t, either. As a limiting case, I remind you there is a new kind of specialist occupation—I refuse to call it a discipline, or a field of study—called futurism. The notion here is that there is a way to study trends and know what the future holds. That would indeed be valuable, if it were possible. But it isn’t possible. Futurists don’t know any more about the future than you or I. Read their magazines from a couple of years ago and you’ll see an endless parade of error.

Expertise is no shield against failure to see ahead. That’s why it was Thomas Watson, head of IBM, who predicted the world only needed 4 or 5 computers. That is about as wrong a prediction as it is possible to make, by a man who had every reason to be informed about what he was talking about. Not only did he fail to anticipate a trend, or a technology, he failed to understand the myriad uses to which a general purpose machine might be put. Similarly, Paul Erlich, a brilliant academic who has devoted his entire life to ecological issues, has been wrong in nearly all his major predictions.

He was wrong about diminishing resources, he was wrong about the population explosion, and he was wrong that we would lose 50% of all species by the year 2000. He devoted his life to intensely felt issues, yet he has been spectacularly wrong.

All right, you may say, you’ll accept that the future can’t be known, in the way I am talking. But what about more immediate matters, such as the effects of pending legislation? Surely it is important to talk about what will happen if certain legislation passes. Well, no, it isn’t. Nobody knows what is going to happen when the legislation passes. I give you two examples, one from the left and one from the right.

The first is the Clinton welfare reform, harshly criticized by his own left wing for caving in to the Republican agenda. The left’s predictions were for vast human suffering, shivering cold, child abuse, terrible outcomes. What happened? None of these things. Child abuse declined. In fact, as government reforms go, its been a success; but Mother Jones still predicts dire effects just ahead.

This failure to predict the effects of a program was mirrored by the hysterical cries from the Republican right over raising the minimum wage. Chaos and dark days would surely follow as businesses closed their doors and the country was plunged into needless recession. But what was the actual effect? Basically, nothing. Who discusses it now? Nobody. What will happen if there is an attempt to raise the minimum wage again? The same dire predictions all over again. Have we learned anything? No.

But my point is, for pending legislation as with everything else, nobody knows the future.

The same thing is true concerning the effect of elections and appointments. What will be the effect of electing a certain president, or a supreme court justice? Nobody knows. Some of you are old enough to remember Art Buchwald’s famous column from the days of the Johnson Administration. Buchwald wrote a “Thank God we don’t have Barry Goldwater” essay, recalling how everyone feared Goldwater would get us into a major war. So we elected Johnson, who promptly committed 200,000 troops to Vietnam. That’s what happens when you choose the dove-ish candidate. You get a war. Or, you elect the intellectually brilliant Jimmy Carter, and watch as he ends up personally deciding who gets to use the White House tennis courts. Or you elect Richard Nixon because he can pull the plug on Vietnam, and he continues to fight for years. And then opens China.

Similarly, the history of the Supreme Court appointments is a litany of error in predicting how justices will vote once on the court. They don’t all surprise us, but a lot of them do.

So, in terms of imminent events, can we predict anything at all? No. You need only look at what was said days before the Berlin Wall came down, to see nobody can predict even a few hours ahead. People said all sorts of silly things about the Communist empire just hours before its collapse. I can’t quote them, because that would mean I had looked them up and had facts at hand, and I have promised you not to do that. But take my word for it, you can find silly statements 24 hours in advance.


Now, this is not new information. It was Mark Twain who said, “I’ve seen a heap of trouble in my life, and most of it never came to pass.”

And much of what politicians say is not so much a prediction as an attempt to make it come true. It’s argument disguised as analysis. But it doesn’t really persuade anybody. Because most people can see through it.

If speculation is worthless, why is there so much of it? Is it because people want it? I don’t think so. I myself speculate that media has turned to speculation for media’s own reasons. So now let’s consider the advantages of speculation from a media standpoint.

  1. It’s incredibly cheap. Talk is cheap. And speculation shows are the cheapest thing you can put on television, They’re almost as cheap as running a test pattern. Speculation requires no research, no big staff. Minimal set. Just get the talking host, book the talking guests—of which there is no shortage—and you’re done! Instant show. No reporters in different cities around the world, no film crews on location. No deadlines, no footage to edit, no editors…nothing! Just talk. Cheap.
  2. You can’t lose. Even though the speculation is correct only by chance, which means you are wrong at least 50% of the time, nobody remembers and therefore nobody cares. You are never accountable. The audience does not remember yesterday, let alone last week, or last month. Media exists in the eternal now, this minute, this crisis, this talking head, this column, this speculation.

One of the clearest proofs of this is the Currents of Death controversy. It originated with the New Yorker, which has been a gushing fountainhead of erroneous scientific speculation for fifty years. But my point is this: many of the people who ten years ago were frantic to measure dangerous electromagnetic radiation in their houses now spend thousands of dollars buying magnets to attach to their wrists and ankles, because of the putative healthful effects of magnetic fields. These people don’t remember these are the same magnetic fields they formerly wanted to avoid. And since they don’t remember, as a speculator on media, you can’t lose.

Let me expand on this idea that you can’t lose. It’s not confined to the media. Most areas of intellectual life have discovered the virtues of speculation, and have embraced them wildly. In academia, speculation is usually dignified as theory. It’s fascinating that even though the intellectual stance of the pomo deconstructionist era is against theory, particularly overarching theory, in reality what every academic wants to express is theory.

This is in part aping science, but it’s also an escape hatch. Your close textual reading of Jane Austen could well be found wrong, and could be shown to be wrong by a more knowledgeable antagonist. But your theory of radical feminization and authoritarian revolt in the work of Jane Austen is untouchable. Your view of the origins of the First World War could be debated by other authorities more meticulous than you. But your New Historicist essay, which might include your own fantasy about what it would be like if you were a soldier during the first war… well, that’s just unarguable.

A wonderful area for speculative academic work is the unknowable. These days religious subjects are in disfavor, but there are still plenty of good topics. The nature of consciousness, the workings of the brain, the origin of aggression, the origin of language, the origin of life on earth, SETI and life on other worlds… this is all great stuff. Wonderful stuff. You can argue it interminably. But it can’t be contradicted, because nobody knows the answer to any of these topics—and probably, nobody ever will.

But that’s not the only strategy one can employ. Because the media-educated public ignores and forgets past claims, these days even authors who present hard data are undamaged when the data is proven wrong. One of the most consistently wrong thinkers of recent years, Carol Gilligan of Harvard, once MS Magazine’s Scientist of the Year, has had to retract (or modify) much of what she has ever written. Yet her reputation as a profound thinker and important investigator continues undiminished. You don’t have to be right, any more. Nobody remembers.

Then there is the speculative work of anthropologists like Helen Fisher, who claim to tell us about the origins of love or of infidelity or cooperation by reference to other societies, animal behavior, and the fossil record. How can she be wrong? It’s untestable, unprovable, just so stories.

And lest anyone imagine things are different in the hard sciences, consider string theory, for nearly twenty years now the dominant physical theory. More than one generation of physicists has labored over string theory. But—if I understand it correctly, and I may not—string theory cannot be tested or proven or disproven. Although some physicists are distressed by the argument that an untestable theory is nevertheless scientific, who is going to object, really? Face it, an untestable theory is ideal! Your career is secure!

In short, the understanding that so long as you speculate, you can’t lose is widespread. And it is perfect for the information age, which promises a cornucopia of knowledge, but delivers a cornucopia of snake oil.

Now, nowhere is it written that the media need be accurate, or useful. They haven’t been for most or recorded history. So, now they’re speculating… so what? What is wrong with it?

  1. Tendency to excess. The fact that it’s only talk makes drama and spectacle unlikely—unless the talk becomes heated and excessive. So it becomes excessive. Not every show features the Crossfire-style food fight, but it is a tendency on all shows.
  2. “Crisisization” of everything possible. Most speculation is not compelling because most events are not compelling—Gosh, I wonder what will happen to the German Mark? Are they going to get their labor problems under control? This promotes the well-known media need for a crisis. Crisis in the German mark! Uh-oh! Look out! Crises unite the country, draw viewers in large numbers, and give something to speculate about. Without a crisis, the talk soon degenerates into debate about whether the refs should have used instant replay on that last football game. So there is a tendency to hype urgency and importance and be-there-now when such reactions are really not appropriate. Witness the interminable scroll at the bottom of the screen about the Queen Mother’s funeral. Whatever the Queen mother’s story may be, it is not a crisis. I even watched a scroll of my own divorce roll by for a couple of days on CNN. It’s sort of flattering, even though they got it wrong. But my divorce is surely not vital breaking news.
  3. Superficiality as a norm. Gotta go fast. Hit the high points. Speculation adds to the superficiality. That’s it, don’t you think?
  4. Endless presentation of uncertainty and conflict may interfere with resolution of issues. There is some evidence that the television food fights not only don’t represent the views of most people—who are not so polarized—but they may tend to make resolution of actual disputes more difficult in the real world. At the very least, these food fights obscure the recognition that disputes are resolved every day. Compromise is much easier from relatively central positions than it is from extreme and hostile, conflicting positions: Greenpeace Spikers vs the Logging Industry.
  5. The interminable chains of speculation paves the way to litigation about breast implants, hysteria over Y2K and global warming, articles in The New Yorker about currents of death, and a variety of other results that are not, by any thoughtful view, good things to happen. There comes to be a perception—convenient to the media—that nothing is, in the end, knowable for sure. When in fact, that’s not true.

Let me point to a demonstrable bad effect of the assumption that nothing is really knowable. Whole word reading was introduced by the education schools of the country without, to my knowledge, any testing of the efficacy of the new method. It was simply put in place. Generations of teachers were indoctrinated in its methods. As a result, the US has one of the highest illiteracy rates in the industrialized world. The assumption that nothing can be known with certainty does have terrible consequences.

As GK Chesterton said (in a somewhat different context), “If you believe in nothing you’ll believe in anything.” That’s what we see today. People believe in anything.

But just in terms of the general emotional tenor of life, I often think people are nervous, jittery in this media climate of what if, what if, maybe, perhaps, could be—when there is simply no reason to feel nervous. Like a bearded nut in robes on the sidewalk proclaiming the end of the world is near, the media is just doing what makes it feel good, not reporting hard facts. We need to start seeing the media as a bearded nut on the sidewalk, shouting out false fears. It’s not sensible to listen to it.

We need to start remembering that everybody who said that Y2K wasn’t a real problem was either shouted down, or kept off the air. The same thing is true now of issues like species extinction and global warming. You never hear anyone say it’s not a crisis. I won’t go into it, because it might lead to the use of facts, but I’ll just mention two reports I speculate you haven’t heard about. The first is the report in Science magazine January 18 2001 (Oops! a fact) that contrary to prior studies, the Antarctic ice pack is increasing, not decreasing, and that this increase means we are finally seeing an end to the shrinking of the pack that has been going on for thousands of years, ever since the Holocene era. I don’t know which is more surprising, the statement that it’s increasing, or the statement that its shrinkage has preceded global warming by thousands of years.

The second study is a National Academy of Sciences report on the economic effects to the US economy of the last El Nino warming event of 1997. That warming produced a net benefit of 15 billion dollars to the economy. That’s taking into account 1.5 billion loss in California from rain, which was offset by decreased fuel bills for a milder winter, and a longer growing season. Net result 15 billion in increased productivity.

The other thing I will mention to you is that during the last 100 years, while the average temperature on the globe has increased just .3 C, the magnetic field of the earth declined by 10%. This is a much larger effect than global warming and potentially far more serious to life on this planet. Our magnetic field is what keeps the atmosphere in place. It is what deflects lethal radiation from space. A reduction of the earth’s magnetic field by ten percent is extremely worrisome.

But who is worried? Nobody. Who is raising a call to action? Nobody. Why not? Because there is nothing to be done. How this may relate to global warming I leave for you to speculate on your own time.

Personally, I think we need to start turning away from media, and the data shows that we are, at least from television news. I find that whenever I lack exposure to media I am much happier, and my life feels fresher.

In closing, I’d remind you that while there are some things we cannot know for sure, there are many things that can be resolved, and indeed are resolved. Not by speculation, however. By careful investigation, by rigorous statistical analysis. Since we’re awash in this contemporary ocean of speculation, we forget that things can be known with certainty, and that we need not live in a fearful world of interminable unsupported opinion. But the gulf that separates hard fact from speculation is by now so unfamiliar that most people can’t comprehend it. I can perhaps make it clear by this story:

On a plane to Europe, I am seated next to a guy who is very unhappy. Turns out he is a doctor who has been engaged in a two-year double blind study of drug efficacy for the FDA, and it may be tossed out the window. Now a double-blind study means there are four separate research teams, each having no contact with any other team—preferably, they’re at different universities, in different parts of the country. The first team defines the study and makes up the medications, the real meds and the controls. The second team administers the medications to the patients. The third team comes in at the end and independently assesses the effect of the medications on each patient. The fourth team takes the data and does a statistical analysis. The cost of this kind of study, as you might imagine, is millions of dollars. And the teams must never meet.

My guy is unhappy because months after the study is over, he in the waiting room of Frankfurt airport and he strikes up a conversation with another man in the lounge, and they discover—to their horror—that they are both involved in the study. My guy was on the team that administered the meds. The other guy is on the team doing the statistics. There isn’t any reason why one should influence the other at this late date, but nevertheless the protocol requires that team members never meet. So now my guy is waiting to hear if the FDA will throw out the entire study, because of this chance meeting in Frankfurt airport.

Those are the lengths you have to go to if you want to be certain that your information is correct. But when I tell people this story, they just stare at me incomprehendingly. They find it absurd. They don’t think it’s necessary to do all that. They think it’s overkill. They live in the world of MSNBC and The New York Times. And they’ve forgotten what real, reliable information is, and the lengths you have to go to get it. It’s so much harder than just speculating.

And on that point, I have to agree with them.

Thank you very much.

– International Leadership Forum, La Jolla (26 April 2002)

the last biggest lie

What are the five biggest lies?
    “The check is in the mail.”
    “I won’t come in your mouth.”
    “Some of my best friends are Jewish.”
    “Black is beautiful.”
    “I’m from your government, and I’m here to help you.”

— Blanche Knott (Ashton Applewhite), Truly Tasteless Jokes, 1983, p. 104

“I am obliged to confess I should sooner live in a society governed by the first two thousand names in the Boston telephone directory than in a society governed by the two thousand faculty members of Harvard University.”

— William F. Buckley Jr., Yale alumnus, Rumbles Left and Right: A Book about Troublesome People and Ideas, 1963, p. 134

dead from the waist down

Joel Marks is concerned with the sort of desire that we would want if we were absolutely convinced that there was no such thing as moral right and wrong. He thinks that the most likely form of this desire unbridled by moral scruple would be pretty much the same as what we want now. Considering just one dimension of desire, Jim Harrison’s observation serves as a fitting complement to this surmise: “they say a hard dick has no conscience, but a scholar’s dick is a shy item full of question marks, guilt, ironies.” Mr Marks’ conscientious cock must fall well short of unschooled tumescence. For my part, the man claiming that none of his sexual urges are held in check by morality is a rapist, a eunuch, or a liar. And likewise for the remaining six deadly sins.

the profit of stupidity

William Shakespeare, ventriloquizing via Queen Gertrude: “More matter, with less art.”
Mies van der Rohe, echoing Robert Browning’s Andrea del Sarto: “Less is more.”
Frank Lloyd Wright, dissing the boss of Bauhaus: “Less is only more where more is no good.”
Hendrik Hertzberg, twitting a birther butthead: “For Trump, thinking less and less seems to be working more and more from week to week.”

All kidding aside, we owe The Donald a debt of gratitude for putting an end to idiotic rumors that distracted Barack H. Obama from his true calling of establishing himself as the worst POTUS since Warren G. Harding sucking up to investment bankers, shilling for insurance companies, debasing himself before religious fanatics, and embroiling our country in interminable foreign adventures.

le bon historien, la mauvaise critique

In regard of two paragraphs read yesterday:

Furet’s reference to “the imaginary” seems to derive in a loose way from the influential analysis of Cornelius Castoriadis in his L’Institution imaginaire de la société.8 [8. Cornelius Castoriadis, L’Institution irnaginaire de la socié, 4th ed. (Paris, 1975). The terminology of Castoriadis appears explicitly in Georges Duby, Les Trois ordres ou l’imaginaire du feodalisme (Paris, 1978). The affinity with Castoriadis is developed at some length in Alain Bergounioux and Bernard Manin, “La Révolution en question (A propos d’un livre de François Furet),” Libre 5 (1979), 183-210.] In Furet’s view, power was fundamentally displaced in and by this imaginary discourse; rather than being anchored in society or institutions, power was located in and appropriated by discourse about equality. For Castoriadis, “the imaginary” is “ce structurant originaire, ce signifié-signifiant central” that is prior to any discourse since it makes discourse possible by identifying the objects of intellectual, practical, and affective investment.9 [9. Castoriadis, 203.] Furet, in contrast, is interested in “the democratic imaginary” as a special creation of the French Revolution. In the end, his use of l’imaginaire is more Tocquevillian than Castoriadian, for he explicitly associates it with un délire sur le pouvoir (79): “The Revolution is a collective imagining of power, which only breaks the continuity and drifts towards pure democracy in order to better assume, at another level, the absolutist tradition” (108). In other words, the Revolution was a great talking machine whose grinding gears drowned out the insidious truth of administrative continuity.
      With his semiological analysis, Furet moves quickly away from the young Marx towards the mature Derrida. For both of them, Rousseau is an important figure. In Of Grammatology Derrida analyzes Rousseau as one of the later representatives of a more general Western “metaphysics of presence,” which shapes Rousseau’s discussion of sovereignty as well as his investigations of language and writing. As Derrida shows, Rousseau was obsessed by the problem of representation: “‘In any case, the moment a people allows itself to be represented, it is no longer free: it no longer exists.’”10 [10. Derrida quoting Rousseau in Of Grammatology, transl. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974, 1976), 297.] Representation to Rousseau was the corruptive principle, the alienation of presence, the catastrophe of the signifier-representer.11 [11. Ibid., 296-297.] Rousseau wanted transparency in politics and in language. The people could be sovereign only if individual wills were transparent to the general will, just as language could only be authentic if it was transparent to the essence of the thing.12 [12. One of the most illuminating discussions of the concept of transparency in Rousseau can be found in Jean Starobinski, Jean-Jacques Rousseau: La transparence et l’obstacle (Paris, 1957).] There was to be no mediation, no representation, nothing opaque between the people and power or between words and things.

To record what I said:

  1. To say that “Furet’s reference to “the imaginary” seems to derive in a loose way” from X, is to say nothing of consequence. Seems, madam! nay, it either is or or it isn’t; I know not “seems”. In the event, Castoriadis’ concept of the imaginary connects with the original faculty of positing or presenting oneself with things and relations that do not exist. What Castoriadis calls the “radical imaginary” of the individual and the ”social instituting imaginary” of the collective, relates explicitly to the human creative capacity. According to Castoriadis, society constitutes itself through a “radical imaginary” that serves as a cultural prototype for creation and alienation alike, at once underwriting its official ideology and inspiring its radical utopian notions. This comprehensive conception goes far beyond Furet’s historiographical premisses, which merely privilege the conceptual realm that Marxist historians relegate to superstructure, over what they postulate as the economic base. There is no need to elevate “the imaginary” to a radical stature in order to undertake this methodological reversal. Hence the weasel-phrase “in a loose way”, used to qualify Furet’s alleged debt to Castoriadis. By a similar token, any Volkswagen owner is indebted in a loose way to the populist ideals of Adolf Hitler. Hence the admission that in the end, Furet’s use of l’imaginaire is more Tocquevillian than Castoriadian. Being that Furet is a self-admitted Tocquevillian, the foregoing argument ipso facto reduces to groundless insinuation. Not so the concluding paraphrase of the paragraph. Whereas Furet makes the point that  the absolutist tradition of the old regime was aggravated (q.v. “in order to better assume, at another level”) by the totalitarian tendencies of the revolution that purported to liberate its beneficiaries from the yoke of royal oppression, the reviewer employs clever metaphors to reduce it to a bombastic amplification of Tocqueville.
  2. To deem Furet’s analysis “semiological” is to undermine its historiographical authority. Witness the purported move of Furet towards the mature Derrida, allegedly borne out by the evidence of Rousseau being an important figure for both of them. It goes unmentioned that Rousseau was an important figure for the principals of the French Revolution. For some reason, the attention that Furet pays to the most important progenitor of the ideology that forms the core of his subject matter, is taken for the grounds of associating him with the bugbear of postmodernism. It should go without saying that “guilt by analogical association” doesn’t stick. Derrida is a nominalist, for whom “il n’y a pas de hors-texte”. By contrast, Furet stands squarely in the realist camp memorably inspired by Marc Bloch: “Le bon historien ressemble à l’ogre de la légende. Là où il flaire la chair humaine, il sait que là est son gibier.” The reviewer neglects to cite any evidence of Furet’s postmodernist specialization on Historia rerum gestarum, let alone his tendentious erasure of Historia res gestae. The effect, and the manifest intent, of her juxtaposition of Furet and Derrida, is to smear the former with the nugatory taint of the latter. Whence the superfluous addition of Derridean showing to the observation that “Rousseau was obsessed by the problem of representation.” The first thing that any reader learns about the political philosophy of Jean-Jacques, is his intolerance of any intermediaries standing between the individual volitions of the citizens, and the dictates of their general will. There can be no critical justification for crediting this truism as a showing by Derrida. (Nor can the citation of Starobinski’s literary criticism in regard of the concept of transparency in Rousseau witness anything beyond the reviewer’s desire to crow about the breadth of her extracurricular reading.) This is a smear tactic, pure and simple. To return to the author, note that Furet denied any connection between his work and that of Derrida. Of Derrida, Furet said, “I detest what he does” (interview with author, Paris, 10 Feb. 1994).

If this is what passes for reading in the “social sciences”, I am quite happy to remain a social retard.


The secret of acting is sincerity — and if you can fake that, you’ve got it made.
Usually attributed to [George] Burns — as, for example, in Michael York, Travelling Player (1991). Fred Metcalf in The Penguin Dictionary of Modern Humorous Quotations (1987) has Burns saying, rather: ‘Acting is about honesty. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.’ However, Kingsley Amis in a devastating piece about Leo Rosten in his Memoirs (1991) has the humorist relating ‘at some stage in the 19705’ how he had given a Commencement address including the line: ‘Sincerity. If you can fake that… you’ll have the world at your feet’ So perhaps the saying was circulating even before Burns received the credit. Or perhaps Rosten took it from him? An advertisement in Rolling Stone in about 1982 offered a T-shirt with the slogan (anonymous): ‘The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you’ve got it made.’ Fred MacMurray was quoted in Variety (15 April 1987): ‘I once asked Barbara Stanwyck the secret of acting. She said: “Just be truthful — and if you can fake that you’ve got it made.”’

— Nigel Rees, Brewer’s Famous Quotations: 5000 Quotations and the Stories Behind Them, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2006, p. 109

At some stage in the 1970s at some party in London I ran into an American called Leo Rosten, who turned out on investigation to be the author, under the pseudonym of Leonard Q. Ross, of a number of stories (reprinted from The New Yorker) in the now (and even then) long-defunct British magazine Lilliput in the war years and after, comic genre pieces about one Hyman Kaplan, an Eastern-European immigrant to America, and his attempts to learn English in night school in New York. I remembered having thought them genuinely funny in a closely observed verbal way, and when Rosten amiably proposed throwing a quadripartite dinner including wives I gladly accepted. Continue reading sincerity

профессия: математик

сказки сказок
2010-01-01 06:59 pm (local)
Только что увидел этот пост по ссылке. Хочу задать Вам один вопрос по этому же поводу. Но для начала скажу два слова о себе.
    Я по профессии математик, и история меня практически никогда не интересовала. Всё, что я знал по этому поводу — это, фактически, школьная программа. К разного рода “фоменковщине” я всегда относился скептически.
    Историей вокруг Магеллана я заинтерсовался, прочтя пост Галковского. У меня он заронил серьёзные сомнения в том, что изложенное в учебниках кругосветное путешествие когда-либо имело место. Со временем эти сомнения только укрепились.
    А спросить я хотел вот что. Указанные Вами ссылки на книги способны убедить меня в том, что в XVII веке широко употреблялось название “Магелланов пролив”. Но для меня отсюда не следуют автоматически какие-то более сильные выводы. Прежде всего, мне хотелось бы знать, кто и когда ввёл в обиход это название. А самое основное, что интересно было бы знать — это вещь, касающаяся подробных описаний самого путешествия, относящихся к XVI или XVII веку. Почему-то обычно в дискуссиях ссылаются только на “книжные корки”, если можно так выразиться.
    По-моему, именно демонстрация такого рода свидетельств могла бы как-то пролить свет на весь вопрос в целом. Ведь если даже о Лоренсо Феррере Мальдонадо столько всего нашлось — с учётом того, что в его путешествие никто не верит, а оно вроде как описано во всех подробностях, то неужели о “пионере кругосветки” осталось намного меньше сведений?

Re: сказки сказок
2010-01-03 07:24 am (local)
В меру Вашей профессиональной заинтересованности в результатах Гёделя, советую сравнить Ваши перипетии в горниле сомнений с общеизвестными народными сомнениями об основополагающих результатах современной формальной логики. Подумайте о том, что там общего с Вашими рассуждениями об истории.

конкретный анализ
2010-01-03 08:23 am (local)
Тот подход, когда из общих соображений пытаются снять какие-то конкретные сомнения по поводу истории, я считаю совершенно неприемлемым. Вот представьте себе, что математик как-то рассуждал, и вдруг пришёл к противоречиям. Он изначально знает, что противоречмя быть не может, но именно поэтому он не может смириться с его кажущимся наличием. Он будет стараться вскрыть причину, и рано или поздно её вскроет. Причём, скорее всего, это будет что-то нетривиальное, и очень часто из таких “противоречий” рождаются новые математические результаты.
    Совершенно ясно, что призывы типа “да брось ты копаться — никакого противоречия же быть не может!” — это вещь прямо противоположная тому, что нужно на самом деле.
    Спекуляции на темы теоремы Гёделя о неполноте мне хорошо известны. Думаю, что во всех этих случаях, если начать разбирать конкретно, я способен сходу сказать, в чём состоит или ошибка, или что-то другое — типа “нестандартной” трактовки понятий, при которой “альтернативный” результат часто получается даже формально верный, но при этом совершенно неинтересный.
    Я считаю, что когда человек в чём-то сомневается — сколь бы “общепринятым” оно ни было, это совершенно нормальное явление. И если кто-то способен такие сомнения развеять — это очень хорошо. При этом ни к каким аргументам “общего” плана прибегать не следует: они всегда идут “мимо”.
    Я вот даже в случае соприкосновения с “ферматистами” не использую аргумента типа того, что как это вы, неквалифицированные и невежественные люди, пытаетесь такие сложные вопросы решать. Даже если я про себя так считаю, то говорить об этом публично считаю неуместным. Я поступаю проще: нахожу конкретную ошибку типа арифметической. Она обычно бывает достаточно очевидной, и “аффтары” легко её осознают. То есть это для них убедительно. А доказывать, что они не “гении”, я считаю делом совершенно несерьёзным.

Re: конкретный анализ
2010-01-03 08:31 am (local)
Вся загвоздка в том, что для согласия о конкретной ошибке требуется общность понятий о способах научного рассуждения. В настоящем случае, у Вас наблюдается недостаточность подобных понятий в области истории на уровне среднестатистического ферматиста. Соответственно сравнимо и Ваше упорство в исторических заблуждениях.

факты и мнения
2010-01-03 09:40 am (local)
Какая-то общность, безусловно, нужна. Но обычно эти требования совершенно минимальны. Прежде всего, нельзя требовать соглашаться с чем-то очень сложным, что выходит за рамки непосредственной убедительности. Есть какой-то уровень фактов, и только из него надо исходить, причём факты должны быть предъявлены.
    Я считаю, что из самих фактов формально никогда ничего не следует и следовать не может кроме них самих. Но кроме фактов вообще-то ничего нет. Если я хочу подтвердить какую-то точку зрения, то я просто предъявляю факты, и это максимум того, что в принципе можно сделать. Любое “доказательство” — это не более чем “демонстрация”. Соглашаться ли с какими-то выводами — это вопрос сложный, и если для кого-то сомнительна, например, теория множеств (а такие люди есть, и среди них встречаются в том числе весьма разумные представители), то с этим надо просто изначально смириться. Главное — это не пытаться ничего “доказывать” в каком-то “абсолютном” смысле этого слова, так как этого уровня нельзя добиться даже в математике. Самое главное, что он при этом совершенно не нужен.
    Очень может оказаться, что какие-то принципы, разделяемые историками, для меня неприемлемы. Например, я совершенно не могу верить каким-то “авторитетам” или “мнениям”. И вовсе не потому, что я считаю их “неверными”, а по причине того, что к фактам это всё не имеет никакого отношения. Например, математическое доказательство для любого человека, который его воспринимает, является “полноценным” только тогда, когда оно до конца понято. Конечно, где-то можно и нужно верить “на слово”, но это абсолютно другой уровень убедительности, который затрагивает лишь сферу “правильных ответов”. Меня же она просто не интересует как таковая. Грубо говоря, если я что-то разучу без понимания, но при этом смогу на большее число вопросов отвечать “правильно”, то я не буду это считать каким-то ценным приобретением. Я же не тесты ЕГЭ сдаю.
    Упорство у меня только в том, что пока та “чаша весов”, на которой находятся доводы “против”, явно перевешивает. В такой ситуации было бы просто нечестно (с точки зрения “интеллектуальной”) взять и согласиться с мнением типа “секретаря партъячейки” 🙂

Re: факты и мнения
2010-01-03 01:17 pm (local)
Если бы из самих фактов формально никогда ничего не следовало и следовать не могло кроме них самих, то в историографии не существовало бы существенного и основополагающего различия между летописью и историческим повествованием. То что кто-либо, в своём вполне откровенном невежестве, исходящем из практически полного отсутствия личного интереса к истории и фактической ограниченности личных знаний по этому поводу в рамках школьной программы, пренебрегает подобными различиями, считая нечестным (с точки зрения “интеллектуальной”) взять и согласиться с мнением типа “секретаря партъячейки”, имеет характер равнозначный потугам каждой кухарки немедленно и непосредственно управлять государством, не удосужившись заблаговременно этому научиться.

“коммунистом можно стать только тогда…”
2010-01-03 04:16 pm (local)
Это не ко мне. Это годится разве что в качестве речи на комсомольском собрании корнхаскеров.

Re: “коммунистом можно стать только тогда…”
2010-01-03 04:21 pm (local)
Вас никто не приглашает становиться коммунистом. Выбор иной: либо заблаговременно изучайте матчасть перед метанием икры в какой-либо научной дисциплине, либо продолжайте представлять самоуверенного невежду.

“спрашивает мальчик: почему?” ©
2010-01-03 05:07 pm (local)
Вся “загвоздка” как раз в том, что я не считаю историю “научной дисциплиной” в подлинном смысле этого слова. По крайней мере, на том же уровне, на котором математика является наукой. История насквозь “идеологизирована”, и затрагивает непосредственно какие-то человеческие интересы. Вплоть до того, что разного рода легенды о “древностях” служат основой для туристического бизнеса и прочего.
    Вы считаете, что я априорно должен уважать историю как “человеческое предприятие”, но моё отношение к ней лишь немногим лучше отношения к “научному коммунизму”. Ведь тут примерно то же самое происходит: человек читает учебник, и у него возникают вопросы. Он идёт к “старшим”, а ему в ответ: “материя первична, сознание вторично”; “читайте Маркса и Энгельса”.
    Как Вы считаете, должен ли старшеклассник или первокурсник безоговорочно верить в то, что написано у “классиков”, если у него по поводу первых же страниц возникают вопросы, на которые ответов не даётся? Или и тут надо сначала всё “проштудировать”, и только потом обрести “почётное право” о чём-то рассуждать? Вот по математике, например, ответы бы обязательно дали. Лично мне их давали всегда, и простых разъяснений хватало. До такого чтобы сказать “прочитай всего Ньютона, всего Эйлера, всего Гаусса, щенок, а потом спрашивай”, дело, к счастью, не доходило.
    Упрёки в невежестве ведь обидно слышать только от людей, признаваемых авторитетными, а если это “препод” по “научному коммунизму”, то в такой области не зазорно чувствовать себя “невеждой” 🙂
    Что касается чистой “фактологии”, которая уже не есть “мраксизЬм”, то уверяю Вас, что я знаю по вопросу о Магеллане всё-таки намного больше, чем “среднестатистический школьник”. При этом, разумеется, я знаю далеко не всё, и именно желанием узнать больше, вызвано моё участие в этой дискуссии. А если Ваши личные познания в области фактов превышают мои, то я Вас охотно послушаю.
    К так называемому “невежеству” вообще не следует относиться как к чему-то “фатальному”, так как человек вчера чего-то не знал, а завтра узнал. Использовать же это как “ярлык” для какого-то “воздействия” совершенно бесполезно, потому что я окончил советскую школу, а потом советский вуз, и против всех “советских” приёмов полемики, которые я знаю наизусть, у меня выработан стойкий иммунитет.

Re: “спрашивает мальчик: почему?” ©
2010-01-03 05:55 pm (local)
То, что Вы не считаете историю “научной дисциплиной” в подлинном смысле этого слова, было заранее вполне очевидно. Непонятно лишь то, почему Вы считаете правомерным, снизойдя со своего пьедестала и вступив в трясину “идеологизированного пиздежа”, рассчитывать на серьёзное прочтение Вашей собственной “исторической” продукции.

без претензий
2010-01-03 07:07 pm (local)
У меня нет никакой собственной исторической продукции! И, конечно, я совершенно ни на что в этом плане не рассчитывал и не могу рассчитывать. Но обсуждать-то хотя бы можно? Или на это имеют право только те, кто свято уверен в подлинности всех без исключения исторических сведений всего-навсего потому, что история считается “наукой”?
    Выше я только что оставил один комментарий, где процитировал изданную в 1890 году книгу о Магеллане. Книга написана профессиональным историком, и там говорится об источниках, на основании которых мы что-то на сегодня знаем о Магеллане. Я надеюсь, что цитировать-то мне хотя бы можно? А больше я ведь ни на что и не претендую.

Re: без претензий
2010-01-03 10:40 pm (local)
Не надо скромничать. Вы явно претендуете на серьёзные сомнения в том, что изложенное в учебниках кругосветное путешествие Магеллана когда-либо имело место. В буквальном смысле, это претензия на непритворное “выяснение общей картины событий”, в противоположность полуграмотному стёбу, с которым у сведующих читателей ассоциируется продукция Галковского и его последователей. По мощам и елей.