[Part 1] The Wind Beneath the Wings of Liberty: “For Universe News Network, I’m Kate Lockwell.”

One of my favorite options throughout the Terran campaign was the interaction with the UNN news reports, and the obvious government control and bias against the heroes. What I thought was a fun gimmick took center stage in the plot when the protagonist rebels discovered incriminating recordings of the corrupt Emperor. The heroes chose to hack into the broadcast network and disseminate the incriminating statements, thus turning the “hearts and minds” of the people against the corrupt government. Advancing the revolution was a matter of controlling the infrastructure (in this case, the media infrastructure). For Raynor’s Raiders, power was about controlling information through existing systems, and was worth “a hundred battles.”

In more broad terms, power came from controlling the resources of information and the means of distributing that information. Jim Raynor’s observations that the government had used the media against his cause for years, and his fear that the government would only spin the incident and regain control, show the power of the media. While this is a largely a statement about media as a special kind of access to the power of controlling a very large population, it is also a commentary on the strategic value of controlling any element of infrastructure. For the Rebellion against Mengk’s Confederacy, control over UNN was as important as any military base or research facility or arms manufacturing plant.

It is easy to see the strategic value in controlling existing infrastructures and making them work for your own cause—indeed, there may seem to be no reasonable alternative. However, the Zerg’s interaction with existing differs a little from the Terran method.

Advertisements

Epistemology in the Age of 24-Hour Fingertip Media

“Suppose I tell you an alleged fact— that it rained last night in Jacksonville, FL. On the count of three, believe this fact. 1…2…3. What do you believe about last night’s weather in Jacksonville, and why?”

This experiment (presented to me in a discussion of the ethics and epistemology of Spinoza compared against Locke) is not really interested in causing any beliefs about past weather events, of course. It is meant to explore notions of what it means to “believe” a proposition about the world (and, possibly, what we consider “evidence”).

To avoid potential for perjury, evidence is sometimes entered into court “on information and belief.” That is, information has been given and someone believed it (it isn’t firsthand knowledge). But something more must be going on, as we obviously don’t merely believe anything we are informed of.

One question at stake is whether we choose our beliefs. This is difficult because philosophers use “belief” to describe the kinds of things which normal people count as knowledge: that there is a chair I am sitting on at this moment, that all triangles have 3 sides, that the sky is blue, that I like toast, etc. As well as the things normal people often describe as belief: whether there is an afterlife, whether it will rain tomorrow, whether a person is lying, etc. Some might argue there is a choice to be made in these second kinds of beliefs, but not in the first kind. I will depart from the epistemologists here because I have introduced my theme: Believing a proposition can be more complex than we take for granted.

This is all foundational to the issue we face in a world where nearly any information can be immediately accessed wherever we are: What do we believe, and why? Each information source is a filter, and must necessarily choose what to include or exclude, and so will—and can—only offer a single viewpoint on a subject. Every journalist’s work, every news network, every news blog, is a set of information with the implicit instruction: “Believe this.” In the past, we believed such sources in good faith. However, “information and belief” has become somewhat diluted of late. Largely as a result of a 2009 SCOTUS decision (Ashcroft v. Iqbal), there are very few pleadings entered in court “on information and belief” anymore. This is because the standard for a well-pleaded complaint was raised to require more than mere “information and belief” could provide. Should we raise the standard for the increasing number of pleas for our own judgment to something higher than “this is information- now, believe it”?

I think there a cautious-pragmatic approach that appeals for handling [perhaps not quite all] such information. The general premise is that the strength of the belief should be limited by both the demands of the belief and the evidence (supportive, absent, and contrary). So I may be free to believe that it rained last night in Jacksonville because I know that Jacksonville is a place where it rains with some frequency and no one has informed me that it did not rain there last night. However, I might be quite cautious to wager $5 on this fact until I obtain more evidence, and still more cautious and more demanding of evidence as that wager increases.

Is Post Modernism a Cynical Reaction to Shattered Dreams?

Post-Modernism takes as axiomatic the death of the grand narrative. Prior to the 20th century, the story goes, humans lived under “grand narratives” about God, justice, truth, morality, power structures, nature, assurances about eventual rightness, and so forth.  At the start of the 21st century, few[er] people in the Western world take governments, economies, corporate leaders, monetary systems, treaties, political speeches, religious belief, natural law, etc. seriously or literally. I wonder: is PoMo an attempt to describe how Western Civilization moved from the former to the latter?

PoMo is often characterized as a radical rejection of the fundamentals of metaphysics and epistemology, to the point of a total disengagement from the reality of the chairs in which we sit. Thus understood, it is rightly mocked as both pretentious and worthless. However, it may be that this school of thought is mean to describe a loss of faith in power and authority and a rejection of social institutions. The more extreme, hard PoMo might be about not thinking that the objects in a room are “real,” either because words have no meaning or objects are constructs of our minds; the softer approach is to see PoMo as asserting that there is no “justice” in a law because a legislative (or judicial, or executive) body may be subject to error or corruption (from selfishness, lobbying, or outright bribery and graft), or that there is no settled “truth” in a society which learns through sources which often conflict. It is undoubtly easier to swallow that the “objects” which may not be “real” are the objects of our social world, not of our physical world. (Yes, I’m oversimplifying, but it’s hard to keep an analysis of Post Modernism down to approx. 500 words.)

Baseball might be my least favorite sport (at least cricket has funny Anglophonic accents), but there’s a useful analogy to tie together legal realism and this “soft PoMo” idea in the act of a baseball umpire calling balls and strikes. One umpire, when asked about whether a pitch was a ball or a strike, boldly asserted, “They ain’t nothin’ til I calls ‘em.” Some schools of legal theory feel there is a fact about laws and justice, and it is the work of judges and lawyers to find that fact—just as scientists experiment on objects to find their mass, density, specific heat, and other qualities. Through the 20th century, a competing school of thought posited that there was no fact about law (or maybe even Justice, abstractly), and so there was no such science-like experimentation to be done. On this view, the law is like calling balls and strikes: and the law is nothing until it has been judged (and even then, the judgment may be judged).

This view of PoMo makes the movement sound more disaffected and bitter than radical and delusional. Perhaps the great manifesto of this view is President Carter’s “Crisis of Confidence” speech. (text: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/primary-resources/carter-crisis/ )His description of a loss of hope and trust in government, both in policies and persons, (and I would extend that to at least news media), could be read as a eulogy (or the Last Rites?) for thee grand narratives of authority, justice, and progress.

So, what does this mean for IP law, specifically? For one thing, it bears on whether patents and copyrights are matters of doing just and right things for inventors and authors, or whether they are merely functional tools to serve consumers. Further along this line, accepting PoMo may make it easier to accept media piracy because there is (on this view) no absolute truth about the wrongfulness of copyright violation. But it might shed light on why we might be inclined to reject such absolute truths: the story of America in the 20th century might be the story of 4 generations learning not to trust authority figures and not to believe in the ideals and morals born under the Grand Narratives of ages past.

Logic: A Forgotten Principle of Discourse.

What should discourse have that it often lacks? Logic is not “what seems reasonable” or “what feels right.” Like chess or mathematics, it has a strict set of formal rules. We use logic to show the connection or lack of connection between concepts. It is machinery into which we put our perceptions and values. Used correctly, it has an important role in quality discourse, but it is not the totality of discourse. Logic bears on how we express ideas, but it does not determine the ideas we express. When we make meaningful arguments, there must be proper and improper ways to interpret and understand what we say. If we do not make the boundaries of our statements clear, they may be interpreted liberally. The more possible interpretations a thing has, the weaker its effective force as an argument. (Note that excellent fictional prose or poetry often lauds multiple interpretations. Also note that arguments of formal logic are a very different sort of poetry.)

This touches on the greater abuses of statistics and imagery in everyday arguing: statements that sound large but are undefined and unbounded. You may tell me a tremendous-sounding statistic, but without context. You may show me a striking photograph, but without significance. All too often, we are given a sound bite or image and expected to “see” some inherent rightness or wrongness. Good arguments are more than only conclusions; they explain what is being asserted and upon what grounds such an assertion could or should be believed. (Some may cringe at my glossing over the “belief is not closed under implication” issue. I sympathize, but just go with the shorthand.)

Perhaps the greatest threat to good discourse is assuming the speaker advocates the opposite of what he argues against. (e.g., when I criticize the way “privilege” is used in debates about race or gender theory is bad, people assume that I favor oppression of others or fail to see it.) This makes it hard to have clear and careful discussion about sensitive (emotionally charged) topics. By making assumptions about the position of the speaker, we forbid constructive criticism- and therefore the growth- of progress on important issues. Avoiding logical fallacies is not a neat academic trick without relevance to daily conversation. Just as the rules of mathematics or science or language can help us in real ways, logic can help us better understand ourselves and each other, and make progress in debates and discussions, and avoid misunderstandings and unintended offense.