Intellectual authority is defined as the authority of arguments that prevail by virtue of good reasoning and do not depend on coercion or convention. A contrasting notion, institutional authority, refers to the power of social institutions to enforce acceptance of arguments that may or may not possess intellectual authority. The authority wielded by legal systems is especially interesting because such systems are institutions that nonetheless aspire to a purely intellectual authority. One judge goes so far as to claim that courts are merely passive vehicles for applying the intellectual authority of the law and possess no coercive powers of their own.
In contrast, some critics maintain that whatever authority judicial pronouncements have is exclusively institutional. Some of these critics go further, claiming that intellectual authority does not really exist—i.e., it reduces to institutional authority. But it can be countered that these claims break down when a sufficiently broad historical perspective is taken: Not all arguments accepted by institutions withstand the test of time, and some well-reasoned arguments never receive institutional imprimatur. The reasonable argument that goes unrecognized in its own time because it challenges institutional beliefs is common in intellectual history; intellectual authority and institutional consensus are not the same thing.
But the critics might respond, intellectual authority is only recognized as such because of institutional consensus. For example, if a musicologist were to claim that an alleged musical genius who, after several decades, had not gained respect and recognition for his or her compositions is probably not a genius, the critics might say that basing a judgment on a unit of time—“several decades”—is an institutional rather than an intellectual construct. What, the critics might ask, makes a particular number of decades reasonable evidence by which to judge genius? The answer, of course, is nothing, except for the fact that such institutional procedures have proved useful to musicologists in making such distinctions in the past.
The analogous legal concept is the doctrine of precedent, i.e., a judge’s merely deciding a case a certain way becoming a basis for deciding later cases the same way—a pure example of institutional authority. But eh critics miss the crucial distinction that when a judicial decision is badly reasoned, or simply no longer applies in the face of evolving social standards or practices, the notion of intellectual authority is introduced: judges reconsider, revise, or in some cases throw out in the reconsideration of decisions, leading one to draw the conclusion that legal systems contain a significant degree of intellectual authority even if the thrust of their power is predominantly institutional.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The myth in 1942
The myth persists that in 1492 the Western Hemisphere was an untamed wilderness and that it was European settlers who harnessed and transformed its ecosystems. But scholarship shows that forests, in particular, had been altered to varying degrees well before the arrival of Europeans. Native populations had converted much of the forests to successfully cultivated stands, especially by means of burning. Nevertheless, some researchers have maintained that the extent, frequency, and impact of such burning was minimal. One geographer claims that climatic change could have accounted for some of the changes in forest composition; another argues that burning by native populations was done only sporadically, to augment the effects of natural fires.
However, a large body of evidence for the routine practice of burning exists in the geographical record. One group of researchers found, for example, that sedimentary charcoal accumulations in what is now the northeastern United States are greatest where known native American settlements were greatest. Other evidence shows that, while the characteristics and impact of fires set by native populations varied regionally according to population size, extent of resource management techniques, and environment, all such fires had markedly different effects on vegetation patter than did natural fires. Controlled burning crated grassy openings such as meadows and glades. Burning also promoted a mosaic quality to North and south American ecosystems, creating forests in many different stages of ecological development. Much of the mature forestland was characterized by open herbaceous undergrowth, another result of the clearing brought about by burning.
In North American, controlled burning crated conditions favorable to berries and other fire-tolerant and sun-loving foods. Burning also converted mixed stands of trees to homogeneous forest, for example the longleaf, slash pine, and scrub oak forests of the southeastern U.S. natural fires do account for some of this vegetation, but regular burning clearly extended and maintained it. Burning also influenced forest composition in the tropics, where natural fires are rare. An example is the pine-dominant forests of Nicaragua, where warm temperatures and heavy rainfall naturally favor mixed tropical or rain forests. While there are primarily grow in cooler, drier, higher elevations, regions where such vegetation is in large part natural and even prehuman. Today, the Nicaraguan pines occur where there has been clearing followed by regular burning, and the same is likely to have occurred in the past: such forests ere present when Europeans arrived and were found only in areas where native settlements were substantial; when these settlements were abandoned, the land returned to mixed hardwoods. This succession is also evident elsewhere in similar low tropical elevations in the Caribbean and Mexico.
However, a large body of evidence for the routine practice of burning exists in the geographical record. One group of researchers found, for example, that sedimentary charcoal accumulations in what is now the northeastern United States are greatest where known native American settlements were greatest. Other evidence shows that, while the characteristics and impact of fires set by native populations varied regionally according to population size, extent of resource management techniques, and environment, all such fires had markedly different effects on vegetation patter than did natural fires. Controlled burning crated grassy openings such as meadows and glades. Burning also promoted a mosaic quality to North and south American ecosystems, creating forests in many different stages of ecological development. Much of the mature forestland was characterized by open herbaceous undergrowth, another result of the clearing brought about by burning.
In North American, controlled burning crated conditions favorable to berries and other fire-tolerant and sun-loving foods. Burning also converted mixed stands of trees to homogeneous forest, for example the longleaf, slash pine, and scrub oak forests of the southeastern U.S. natural fires do account for some of this vegetation, but regular burning clearly extended and maintained it. Burning also influenced forest composition in the tropics, where natural fires are rare. An example is the pine-dominant forests of Nicaragua, where warm temperatures and heavy rainfall naturally favor mixed tropical or rain forests. While there are primarily grow in cooler, drier, higher elevations, regions where such vegetation is in large part natural and even prehuman. Today, the Nicaraguan pines occur where there has been clearing followed by regular burning, and the same is likely to have occurred in the past: such forests ere present when Europeans arrived and were found only in areas where native settlements were substantial; when these settlements were abandoned, the land returned to mixed hardwoods. This succession is also evident elsewhere in similar low tropical elevations in the Caribbean and Mexico.
Woodrow Wilson
Woodrow Wilson was referring to the liberal idea of the economic market when he said that the free enterprise system is the most efficient economic system. Maximum freedom means maximum productiveness; our “openness” is to be the measure of our stability. Fascination with this ideal has made Americans defy the “Old World” categories of settled possessiveness versus unsettling deprivation, the cupidity of retention versus the cupidity of seizure, a “status quo” defended or attacked. The United States, it was believed, had no status quo ante. Our only “station” was the turning of a stationary wheel, spinning faster and faster. We did not base our system on property but opportunity—which meant we based it not on stability but on mobility. The more things changed, that is, the more rapidly the wheel turned, the steadier we would be. The conventional picture of class politics is composed of the Haves, who want a stability to keep what they have, and the Have-Nots, who want a touch of instability and change in which to scramble for the things they have not. But Americans imagined a condition in which speculators, self-makers, runners are always using the new opportunities given by our land. These economic leaders (front-runners) would thus be mainly agents of change. The nonstarters were considered the ones who wanted stability, a strong referee to give them some position in the race, a regulative hand to calm manic speculation; an authority that can call things to a halt, begin things again from compensatorily staggered “starting lines.”
“Reform” in America has been sterile because it can imagine no change except through the extension of this metaphor of a race, wider inclusion of competitors, “a piece of the action,” as it were, for the disenfranchised. There is no attempt to call off the race. Since our only stability is change, America seems not to honor the quiet work that achieves social interdependence and stability. There is, in our legends, no heroism of the office clerk, no stable industrial work force of the people who actually make the system work. There is no pride in being an employee (Wilson asked for a return to the time when everyone was an employer). There has been no boasting about our social workers—they are merely signs of the system’s failure, of opportunity denied or not taken, of things to be eliminated. We have no pride in our growing interdependence, in the fact that our system can serve others, that we are able to help those in need; empty boasts from the past make us ashamed of our present achievements, make us try to forget or deny them, move away from them. There is no honor but in the Wonderland race we must all run, all trying to win, none winning in the end (for there is no end).
“Reform” in America has been sterile because it can imagine no change except through the extension of this metaphor of a race, wider inclusion of competitors, “a piece of the action,” as it were, for the disenfranchised. There is no attempt to call off the race. Since our only stability is change, America seems not to honor the quiet work that achieves social interdependence and stability. There is, in our legends, no heroism of the office clerk, no stable industrial work force of the people who actually make the system work. There is no pride in being an employee (Wilson asked for a return to the time when everyone was an employer). There has been no boasting about our social workers—they are merely signs of the system’s failure, of opportunity denied or not taken, of things to be eliminated. We have no pride in our growing interdependence, in the fact that our system can serve others, that we are able to help those in need; empty boasts from the past make us ashamed of our present achievements, make us try to forget or deny them, move away from them. There is no honor but in the Wonderland race we must all run, all trying to win, none winning in the end (for there is no end).
Martin Luther King Address
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."1
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."2
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."1
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."2
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
An application for a small business loan by a group of
"A jazz music club in Monroe would be a tremendously profitable enterprise. Currently, the
nearest jazz club is 65 miles away; thus, our proposed club, the C Note, would have the local
market all to itself. Plus, jazz is extremely popular in Monroe: over 100,000 people attended
Monroe's jazz festival last summer, several well-known jazz musicians live in Monroe, and the
highest-rated radio program in Monroe is 'Jazz Nightly,' which airs every weeknight. Finally, a
nationwide study indicates that the typical jazz fan spends close to $1,000 per year on jazz
entertainment. It is clear that the C Note cannot help but make money."
This loan applicant claims that a jazz club in Monroe would be a profitable venture. To
support this claim the applicant points out that Monroe has no other jazz clubs. He also cites
various other evidence that jazz is popular among Monroe residents. Careful examination of
this supporting evidence, however, reveals that it lends little credible support to the applicant's claim.
First of all, if the demand for a live jazz club in Monroe were as great as the applicant claims,
it seems that Monroe would already have one or more such clubs. The fact that the closest
jazz club is 65 miles away suggests a lack of interest among Monroe residents in a local jazz
club. Since the applicant has not adequately responded to this concem, his claim that the
proposed club would be profitable is untenable.
The popularity of Monroe's annual jazz festival and of its nightly jazz radio show might
appear to lend support to the applicant's claim. However, it is entirely possible that the vast
majority of festival attendees are out-of-town visitors. Moreover, the author provides no
evidence that radio listeners would be interested in going out to hear live jazz. For that matter,
the radio program might actually pose competition for the C-Note club, especially considering
that the program airs during the evening.
Nor does the mere fact that several weU-known jazz musicians live in Monroe lend
significant support to the applicant's claim. It is entirely possible that these musicians perform
elsewhere, perhaps at the club located 65 miles away. This would go a long way toward
explaining why Monroe does not currently have a jazz club, and it would weaken the
applicant's assertion that the C-Note would be profitable.
Finally, the nationwide study showing that the average jazz fan spends $1,000 each year on
jazz entertainment would lend support to the applicant's claim only if Monroe residents typify
jazz fans nationwide. However, the applicant provides no credible evidence that this is the
case.
In conclusion, the loan applicant's argument is not persuasive. To bolster it he must provide
clearer evidence that Monroe residents would patronize the C-Note on a regular basis. Such
evidence might include the following: statistics showing that a significant number of Monroe
residents attend the jazz festival each year; a survey showing that fans of Monroe's jazz radio
program would go out to hear live jazz if they had the chance; and assurances from
well-known local jazz musicians that they would play at the C-Note if given the opportunity.
nearest jazz club is 65 miles away; thus, our proposed club, the C Note, would have the local
market all to itself. Plus, jazz is extremely popular in Monroe: over 100,000 people attended
Monroe's jazz festival last summer, several well-known jazz musicians live in Monroe, and the
highest-rated radio program in Monroe is 'Jazz Nightly,' which airs every weeknight. Finally, a
nationwide study indicates that the typical jazz fan spends close to $1,000 per year on jazz
entertainment. It is clear that the C Note cannot help but make money."
This loan applicant claims that a jazz club in Monroe would be a profitable venture. To
support this claim the applicant points out that Monroe has no other jazz clubs. He also cites
various other evidence that jazz is popular among Monroe residents. Careful examination of
this supporting evidence, however, reveals that it lends little credible support to the applicant's claim.
First of all, if the demand for a live jazz club in Monroe were as great as the applicant claims,
it seems that Monroe would already have one or more such clubs. The fact that the closest
jazz club is 65 miles away suggests a lack of interest among Monroe residents in a local jazz
club. Since the applicant has not adequately responded to this concem, his claim that the
proposed club would be profitable is untenable.
The popularity of Monroe's annual jazz festival and of its nightly jazz radio show might
appear to lend support to the applicant's claim. However, it is entirely possible that the vast
majority of festival attendees are out-of-town visitors. Moreover, the author provides no
evidence that radio listeners would be interested in going out to hear live jazz. For that matter,
the radio program might actually pose competition for the C-Note club, especially considering
that the program airs during the evening.
Nor does the mere fact that several weU-known jazz musicians live in Monroe lend
significant support to the applicant's claim. It is entirely possible that these musicians perform
elsewhere, perhaps at the club located 65 miles away. This would go a long way toward
explaining why Monroe does not currently have a jazz club, and it would weaken the
applicant's assertion that the C-Note would be profitable.
Finally, the nationwide study showing that the average jazz fan spends $1,000 each year on
jazz entertainment would lend support to the applicant's claim only if Monroe residents typify
jazz fans nationwide. However, the applicant provides no credible evidence that this is the
case.
In conclusion, the loan applicant's argument is not persuasive. To bolster it he must provide
clearer evidence that Monroe residents would patronize the C-Note on a regular basis. Such
evidence might include the following: statistics showing that a significant number of Monroe
residents attend the jazz festival each year; a survey showing that fans of Monroe's jazz radio
program would go out to hear live jazz if they had the chance; and assurances from
well-known local jazz musicians that they would play at the C-Note if given the opportunity.
Scandals---whether in politics, academia, or other areas---can be useful
Are scandals useful in calling our attention to important problems, as this statement
suggests? I agree that in many cases scandals can serve to reveal larger problems that a
community or society should address. On the other hand, scandals can sometimes distract us
from more important societal issues.
On the one hand, scandals can sometimes serve to call our attention to pervasive social or
political problems that we would otherwise neglect. Perhaps the paradigmatic modern example
is the Watergate scandal. Early in that scandal it would have been tempting to dismiss it as
involving one isolated incidence of underhanded campaign tactics. But, in retrospect the
scandal forever increased the level of scrutiny and accountability to which our public officials
are held, thereby working a significant and lasting benefit to our society. More recently, the
Clinton-Gore fundraising scandal sparked a renewed call for campaign-finance reform. In fact
the scandal might result in the passage of a congressional bill outlawing private campaign
contributions altogether, thereby rendering presidential candidates far less susceptible to
undue influence of special-interest groups. Our society would be the dear beneficiary of such
reform. Surely, no public speaker or reformer could have called our nation's collective attention
to the problem of presidential misconduct unless these two scandals had surfaced.
On the other hand, scandals can sometimes serve chiefly to distract us from more pressing
community or societal problems. At the community level, for example, several years ago the
chancellor of a university located in my city was expelled from office for misusing university
funds to renovate his posh personal residence. Every new development during the scandal
became front-page news in the campus newspaper. But did this scandal serve any useful
purpose? No. The scandal did not reveal any pervasive problem with university accounting
practices. It did not result in any sort of useful system-wide reform. Rather, it was merely one
incidence of petty misappropriation. Moreover, the scandal distracted the university community
from far more important issues, such as affu'mative action and campus safety, which were
relegated to the second page of the campus news paper during the scandal.
Even on a societal level, scandals can serve chiefly to distract us from more important
matters. For example, time will tell whether the Clinton sex scandal will benefit our political,
social, or legal system. Admittedly, the scandal did call our attention to certain issues of federal
law. It sparked a debate about the powers and duties of legal prosecutors, under the
Independent Counsel Act, vis-i-vis the chief executive while in and out of office. And the
various court rulings about executive privilege and immunity WIU serve useful legal
precedents for the furore. Even the impeachment proceedings xxhll no doubt provide useful
procedural precedent at some future time. Yet on balance, it seems to me that the deleterious
effects of the scandal in terms of the financial expense to taxpayers and the various harms to
the many individuals caught up in the legal process---outweigh these benefits. More
importantly, for more that a year the scandal served chiefly to distract us from our most
pressing national and global problems, such as the Kosovo crisis, our social-security crisis,
and health-care reform, to name just a few.
In sum, I agree that scandals often serve to flag important socio-political problems more
effectively than any speaker or reformer can. However, whether a scandal works more benefit
than harm to a community or society must be addressed on a case-by-case basis.
"Scandals---whether in politics, academia, or other areas---can be useful. They focus our attention on problems in ways that no speaker or reformer ever could."
suggests? I agree that in many cases scandals can serve to reveal larger problems that a
community or society should address. On the other hand, scandals can sometimes distract us
from more important societal issues.
On the one hand, scandals can sometimes serve to call our attention to pervasive social or
political problems that we would otherwise neglect. Perhaps the paradigmatic modern example
is the Watergate scandal. Early in that scandal it would have been tempting to dismiss it as
involving one isolated incidence of underhanded campaign tactics. But, in retrospect the
scandal forever increased the level of scrutiny and accountability to which our public officials
are held, thereby working a significant and lasting benefit to our society. More recently, the
Clinton-Gore fundraising scandal sparked a renewed call for campaign-finance reform. In fact
the scandal might result in the passage of a congressional bill outlawing private campaign
contributions altogether, thereby rendering presidential candidates far less susceptible to
undue influence of special-interest groups. Our society would be the dear beneficiary of such
reform. Surely, no public speaker or reformer could have called our nation's collective attention
to the problem of presidential misconduct unless these two scandals had surfaced.
On the other hand, scandals can sometimes serve chiefly to distract us from more pressing
community or societal problems. At the community level, for example, several years ago the
chancellor of a university located in my city was expelled from office for misusing university
funds to renovate his posh personal residence. Every new development during the scandal
became front-page news in the campus newspaper. But did this scandal serve any useful
purpose? No. The scandal did not reveal any pervasive problem with university accounting
practices. It did not result in any sort of useful system-wide reform. Rather, it was merely one
incidence of petty misappropriation. Moreover, the scandal distracted the university community
from far more important issues, such as affu'mative action and campus safety, which were
relegated to the second page of the campus news paper during the scandal.
Even on a societal level, scandals can serve chiefly to distract us from more important
matters. For example, time will tell whether the Clinton sex scandal will benefit our political,
social, or legal system. Admittedly, the scandal did call our attention to certain issues of federal
law. It sparked a debate about the powers and duties of legal prosecutors, under the
Independent Counsel Act, vis-i-vis the chief executive while in and out of office. And the
various court rulings about executive privilege and immunity WIU serve useful legal
precedents for the furore. Even the impeachment proceedings xxhll no doubt provide useful
procedural precedent at some future time. Yet on balance, it seems to me that the deleterious
effects of the scandal in terms of the financial expense to taxpayers and the various harms to
the many individuals caught up in the legal process---outweigh these benefits. More
importantly, for more that a year the scandal served chiefly to distract us from our most
pressing national and global problems, such as the Kosovo crisis, our social-security crisis,
and health-care reform, to name just a few.
In sum, I agree that scandals often serve to flag important socio-political problems more
effectively than any speaker or reformer can. However, whether a scandal works more benefit
than harm to a community or society must be addressed on a case-by-case basis.
"Scandals---whether in politics, academia, or other areas---can be useful. They focus our attention on problems in ways that no speaker or reformer ever could."
It is a grave mistake to theorize before one has data
Is it a "grave mistake" to theorize without data, as the speaker contends? I agree insofar as
to theorize before collecting sufficient data is to risk tainting the process of collecting and
interpreting further data. However, in a sense the speaker begs the question, by overlooking
the fact that every theory requires some data to begin with. Moreover, the claim unfairly
ignores equally grave consequences of waiting to theorize until we obtain too much data.
In one important respect I agree with the speaker's contention. A theory conjured up without
the benefit of data amounts to little more that the theorist's hopes and desires--what he or she
wants to be true and not be true. Accordingly, this theorist will tend to seek out evidence that
supports the theory, and overlook or avoid evidence that refutes it. One telling historical
example involves theories about the center of the Universe. Understandably, we ego-driven
humans would prefer that the universe revolve around us. Early theories presumed so for this
reason, and subsequent observations that ran contrary to this ego-driven theory were ignored,
while the observers were scorned and even vilified.
By theorizing before collecting data the theorist also runs that risk of interpreting that data in
a manner which makes it appear to lend more credence to the theory than it actually does.
Consider the theory that the Earth is flat. Any person with a clear view of the horizon must
agree in all honesty that the evidence does not support the theory. Yet prior to Newtonian
physics the notion of a spherical Earth was so unsettling to people that they interpreted the
arc-shaped horizon as evidence of a convex, yet nevertheless "flattish," Earth.
Despite the merits of the speaker's claim, I find it problematic in two crucial respects. First,
common sense informs me that it is impossible to theorize in the first place without at least
some data. How can theorizing without data be dangerous, as the speaker con tends, if it is not
even possible? While a theory based purely on fantasy might ultimately be born out by
empirical observation, it is equally possible that it won't. Thus without prior data a theory is not
worth our time or attention. Secondly, the speaker's claim overlooks the inverse problem: the
danger of continuing to acquire data without venturing a theory based on that data. To
postpone theorizing until all the data is in might be to postpone it forever. The danger lies in the
reasons we theorize and test our theories: to solve society's problems and to make the world a
better place to live. Unless we act timely based on our data we render ourselves impotent. For
example, governments tend to respond to urgent social problems by establishing agencies to
collect data and think-tanks to theorize about causes and solutions. These agencies and
think-tanks serve no purpose unless they admit that they will never have all the data and that
no theory is foolproof, and unless timely action is taken based on the best theory currendy
available--before the problem overwhelms us.
To sum up, I agree with the speaker insofar as a theory based on no data is not a theory but
mere whimsy and fancy, and insofar as by theorizing first we tend to distort the extent to which
data collected thereafter supports our own theory. Nevertheless, we put ourselves in equal
peril by mistaking data for knowledge and progress, which require us not only to theorize but
also to act upon our theories with some useful end in mind.
to theorize before collecting sufficient data is to risk tainting the process of collecting and
interpreting further data. However, in a sense the speaker begs the question, by overlooking
the fact that every theory requires some data to begin with. Moreover, the claim unfairly
ignores equally grave consequences of waiting to theorize until we obtain too much data.
In one important respect I agree with the speaker's contention. A theory conjured up without
the benefit of data amounts to little more that the theorist's hopes and desires--what he or she
wants to be true and not be true. Accordingly, this theorist will tend to seek out evidence that
supports the theory, and overlook or avoid evidence that refutes it. One telling historical
example involves theories about the center of the Universe. Understandably, we ego-driven
humans would prefer that the universe revolve around us. Early theories presumed so for this
reason, and subsequent observations that ran contrary to this ego-driven theory were ignored,
while the observers were scorned and even vilified.
By theorizing before collecting data the theorist also runs that risk of interpreting that data in
a manner which makes it appear to lend more credence to the theory than it actually does.
Consider the theory that the Earth is flat. Any person with a clear view of the horizon must
agree in all honesty that the evidence does not support the theory. Yet prior to Newtonian
physics the notion of a spherical Earth was so unsettling to people that they interpreted the
arc-shaped horizon as evidence of a convex, yet nevertheless "flattish," Earth.
Despite the merits of the speaker's claim, I find it problematic in two crucial respects. First,
common sense informs me that it is impossible to theorize in the first place without at least
some data. How can theorizing without data be dangerous, as the speaker con tends, if it is not
even possible? While a theory based purely on fantasy might ultimately be born out by
empirical observation, it is equally possible that it won't. Thus without prior data a theory is not
worth our time or attention. Secondly, the speaker's claim overlooks the inverse problem: the
danger of continuing to acquire data without venturing a theory based on that data. To
postpone theorizing until all the data is in might be to postpone it forever. The danger lies in the
reasons we theorize and test our theories: to solve society's problems and to make the world a
better place to live. Unless we act timely based on our data we render ourselves impotent. For
example, governments tend to respond to urgent social problems by establishing agencies to
collect data and think-tanks to theorize about causes and solutions. These agencies and
think-tanks serve no purpose unless they admit that they will never have all the data and that
no theory is foolproof, and unless timely action is taken based on the best theory currendy
available--before the problem overwhelms us.
To sum up, I agree with the speaker insofar as a theory based on no data is not a theory but
mere whimsy and fancy, and insofar as by theorizing first we tend to distort the extent to which
data collected thereafter supports our own theory. Nevertheless, we put ourselves in equal
peril by mistaking data for knowledge and progress, which require us not only to theorize but
also to act upon our theories with some useful end in mind.
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