Mi Casa But Not Su Casa

March 21, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston

Not exactly “it depends on what the meaning of is is,” but relevant to the problem of constructing questions. Andrew Gelman posted this a few days ago.

When preparing our GSS survey questions on social and political polarization, one of our questions was, “How many people do you know who have a second home?” This was supposed to help us measure social stratification by wealth– we figured people might know if their friends had a second home, even if they didn’t know the values of their friends’ assets. But we had a problem – a lot of the positive responses seemed to be coming from people who knew immigrants who had a home back in their original countries.

Put that in your pipe and use it in your methods class.

I’ve been phone-surveyed (not by the GSS), and several times I have asked the interviewer what some part of a question meant. The response was usually, in so many words, “Hey, I didn’t write these questions. I just get paid $6.50 an hour to read ’em.” OK, I would think, but I know that my answer doesn’t mean what your employers think it means.

Ivan Dixon

March 20, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston

A few years ago, I was stuck in a motel room one morning. My son,14, was flipping through the TV channels and hit upon a Twilight Zone marathon on F/X or Sci-Fi. The episode when we turned on the TV had only about ten minutes left, but at once I realized, in some Twilight Zonish dejà vu way, that I had seen this episode long ago when I was fourteen. It was about a small-time boxer at the end of his career, a man facing the reality of the limitations of his life. Not the sort of thing that a kid would understand, certainly not a kid like me. The twilight of a career was not the “twilight” that the the show had in mind. On the contrary, the message of this episode, delivered by a young boy who looks up to the fighter, is that he should believe in the impossible and keep boxing.

But there was something about the performance, the way the actor conveyed the sense of exhaustion and acceptance. Here was a man, a real grown-up, coming to grips with the realities of his life and his situation. That was the message that came through, not the call to ignore reality and live in the fictional Zone. The actor’s performance transcended the silliness of the scripted plot, making the character so real that I still remembered him decades later.*

BOLIE: You know, a fighter don’t need a scrapbook, Henry. You want to know what he’s done and where he’s fought? You read it in his face. He's got the whole story cut into his flesh. St. Louis, 1949. Guy named Sailor Leavitt. A real fast boy. And this, Memorial Stadium. Syracuse, New York. Italian boy. Fought like Henry Armstrong. All hands and arms, just like a windmill on the wind. . . .

The actor was Ivan Dixon, who died Sunday.

I never saw him in Hogan’s Heros, but I did see “Nothing But a Man” when it was released. I didn’t recognize him then as the boxer I had seen on The Twilight Zone just a few years earlier. That realization didn't happen until decades later in a motel room in western Massachusetts.

If you haven’t seen “Nothing But a Man,” you should rent and watch it immediately. If you teach sociology, you should use it in class – for what it says about race in the US, for what it says about how social arrangements affect the interior life of marriages and of individuals. You should watch it for the performances by Dixon, Abbey Lincoln (who doesn't sing a note), Yaphet Kotto and others.

When I first saw “Nothing But a Man,” I thought it was the best black-themed film I’d ever seen. I still do.

* Another blogger has linked to the Twilight Zone episode on YouTube. If you want to see it, you can find it here.

Hooked on Uniformity

March 20, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston

“Where are we on phonics now?” I asked Steve, a quasi-relative (he’s a sort of step in-law) who I rarely see. We were having dinner with family down here in Sarasota (it's spring break). He teaches school and does research on primary education. Lately, he’s been digging through historical materials on one-room schools. It turns out in the nineteenth century too, the teaching of reading was subject to changes in fashion, and some of those fashions were remarkably similar to what we find today under labels like “phonics” and “whole language.”

Which teaching system works best? It depends on the kid, of course. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that kids are not all alike and that some learn better with one system while others do better with another.

Then what’s the problem, I asked.

“Texas,” he said, “California.”

In these states, a central committee decides on the book to be used for each subject in all public schools. Their preferences have a huge impact on publishers, whose fortunes may depend on an “adoption” in these states. (California accounts for more than 10% of the US population, Texas nearly 8%.) So decisions in these large, centralized states affect what is available even in other states. The structure of choosing textbooks shapes the content of the books.

But there’s a cultural component as well. “We have this strange assumption that the way to go about it is to figure out what’s the best, and then make everybody use it,” Steve said.

I wondered out loud if this way of thinking is peculiarly American, this uncomfortable amalgam of individualism and uniformity. We think each person should be free to make his own choices. But we also want everyone to choose the same thing, and we get upset when someone chooses something else. (Visitors to these shores since deTocqueville have remarked on the narrow range of political views in the US compared to those in other countries, which are apparently more tolerant of political diversity.)

So we have all these competitions to determine which book or movie or singer is best. Then, once we know what’s best, that’s the one we all freely and independently choose. Or, in the case of textbook committees, we assume that this is the book that will be best for all our schoolchildren.

They Do Get Fooled Again

March 16, 2008
Posted by Jay Livingston

The New York Times, on the fifth anniversary of the Iraq invasion, asked nine “experts” to “reflect on their attitudes” then and say what most “surprised them or that they wish they had considered in the prewar debate.”

These were all war supporters (the American Enterprise Institute is well represented), and basically, the Times was giving them a chance to say why they were wrong and how they got fooled. Did they take the Times’s bait? Of course not. They all still say in one way or another that they were right in 2003.

I was reminded of something else that came around on the Internet today. (Hat tip to Lee Sigelman at The Monkey Cage)









SPOILER ALERT. Watch the video now – it’s only a minute long – because otherwise the next paragraph may spoil it for you.

After you see the scene the second time, you say, “Of course, it was there all the time, and I never saw it.” But these military and foreign policy experts in the Times are still insisting that their first perceptions were correct. There was never any bear, and the people who say there is a bear are wrong. It’s only because of the incompetence of the Bush Administration and the repeated mantras of the left that people even think there is a bear.

It’s dejà- Kuhn all over again. The adherents of a paradigm don’t abandon it for a new one just because it no longer fits with the facts. And the new paradigm succeeds not because it convinces the old guard, but because the old paradigm loses its power to draw new believers. If that’s true in the hard sciences, how much more it must apply in government policy.

That’s why I found it particularly impressive when Barack Obama said, “I don’t just want to end the war. I want to end the mentality that got us into the war.” Of course you don’t do that by trying to convince the Perles and Kagans of the world – these men who spurred us on and who still seem to be praying that they do get fooled again. You just make sure that your advisors have a much different mentality.

(I was going to give this post the title “The Bear That Wasn’t” – a wonderful fable about people enforcing their ideas upon recalcitrant facts. But I didn’t want to give too much away.)