A Meander from “AI” to People and Back Again

personby Nancy Jane Moore
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The latest scandal to hit the science fiction community is the revelation that the people putting on WorldCon in Seattle are using ChatGPT to vet proposed panelists. Given that a large number of people who want to be on panels are published authors who are part of the class actions against the companies making these over-hyped LLM products, the amount of outrage was completely predictable.

A number of us also pointed out that the information produced by these programs is very often wrong, since they make things up because they are basically word prediction devices. As a person who is not famous and who has a common Anglo name, I shudder to think what so-called “AI” would produce about me.

But the biggest problem I see with “AI” – outside of the environmental costs, the error rate, and the use of materials without permission to create it – is that they keep trying to sell it to do things it doesn’t do well, instead of keeping it for the few things it actually can do. Of course, there’s not a lot of money to be made from those few things, especially when you factor in the costs.

We’re at the point in tech where new things are not going to change the product that much, no matter what the hype says. Exponential growth cannot last forever. If you don’t believe me, look up the grains of rice on a chessboard story.

I’ve been thinking a lot about all the ways people are trying to use “AI” or even older forms of tech to get rid of workers and the more I think about it, the more disastrous it looks.

We don’t need more tech doing stuff; we need more people doing stuff.

It’s not just “AI”. Just try to call your bank or your doctor, or, god help us all, Social Security or the IRS (now made worse by the Dodgy Minions). When we have issues, we need people – real people, who understand what we’re calling about and can solve our problems.

The “chat” feature on a website doesn’t cut it and an “AI” enabled chat feature is probably worse in that it might well make up an answer instead of just not knowing what to do.

I’ve been thinking of health care in particular. I’ve heard a lot of talk about how LLMs can read radiology films better than radiologists, in that they don’t get bored or distracted, so they can point to any things that look out of the ordinary in reference to the kind of films they were trained on.

But of course, what they’re really doing is flagging the problems for a radiologist to look at. They don’t replace the expert; they help them do their job. It’s probably useful, but it isn’t going to make radiology any cheaper, because you still need the person to look carefully at the films.

I don’t believe for a moment that LLMs will be better at diagnosing patients. Continue reading “A Meander from “AI” to People and Back Again”…

Reprint: Social movements constrained Trump in his first term – more than people realize

personby Deborah J. Ross
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This article first appeared in The Conversation. I offer it here with permission because now, more than ever, we need hope. Hope and belief in our power to resist and ultimately defeat a tyrant.

Social movements constrained Trump in his first term – more than people realize

Kevin A. Young, UMass AmherstDonald Trump’s first term as president saw some of the largest mass protests seen in the U.S. in over 50 years, from the 2017 Women’s March to the 2020 protests after George Floyd’s murder.

Things feel different this time around. Critics seem quieter. Some point to fear of retribution. But there’s also a sense that the protests of Trump’s first term were ultimately futile. This has contributed to a widespread mood of despair.

As The New York Times noted not long ago, Trump “had not appeared to be swayed by protests, petitions, hashtag campaigns or other tools of mass dissent.” That’s a common perspective these days.

But what if it’s wrong?

As a historian, I study how our narratives about the past shape our actions in the present. In this case, it’s particularly important to get the history right.

In fact, popular resistance in Trump’s first term accomplished more than many observers realize; it’s just that most wins happened outside the spotlight. In my view, the most visible tactics – petitions, hashtags, occasional marches in Washington – had less impact than the quieter work of organizing in communities and workplaces.

Understanding when movements succeeded during Trump’s first term is important for identifying how activists can effectively oppose Trump policy in his second administration.

Quiet victories of the sanctuary movement

Mass deportation has been a cornerstone of Trump’s agenda for more than a decade. Yet despite his early pledge to create a “deportation force” that would expel millions, Trump deported only half as many people in his first term as Barack Obama did in his first term.

Progressive activists were a key reason. By combining decentralized organizing and nationwide resource-sharing, they successfully pushed scores of state and local governments to adopt sanctuary laws that limited cooperation with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE.

When the sociologist Adam Safer examined thousands of cities and dozens of states, he found that a specific type of sanctuary law that activists supported – barring local jails and prisons from active cooperation with ICE – successfully reduced ICE arrests. A study by legal scholar David K. Hausman confirmed this finding. Notably, Hausman also found that sanctuary policies had “no detectable effect on crime rates,” contrary to what many politicians allege.

Another important influence on state and local officials was employers’ resistance to mass deportation. The E-Verify system requiring employers to verify workers’ legal status went virtually unenforced, since businesses quietly objected to it. As this example suggests, popular resistance to Trump’s agenda was most effective when it exploited tensions between the administration and capitalists.

The ‘rising tide’ against fossil fuels

In his effort to prop up the fossil fuel industry, Trump in his first term withdrew from the Paris climate agreement, weakened or eliminated over 100 environmental protections and pushed other measures to obstruct the transition to green energy.

Researchers projected that these policies would kill tens of thousands of people in just the United States by 2028, primarily from exposure to air pollutants. Other studies estimated that the increased carbon pollution would contribute to tens of millions of deaths, and untold other suffering, by century’s end.

That’s not the whole story, though. Trump’s first-term energy agenda was partly thwarted by a combination of environmental activism and market forces.

His failure to resuscitate the U.S. coal industry was especially stark. Coal-fired plant capacity declined faster during Trump’s first term than during any four-year period in any country, ever. Some of the same coal barons who celebrated Trump’s victory in 2016 soon went bankrupt.

CBS News covered the bankruptcy of coal firm Murray Energy, founded by Trump supporter Robert E. Murray.

The most obvious reasons for coal’s decline were the U.S. natural gas boom and the falling cost of renewable energy. But its decline was hastened by the hundreds of local organizations that protested coal projects, filed lawsuits against regulators and pushed financial institutions to disinvest from the sector. The presence of strong local movements may help explain the regional variation in coal’s fortunes.

Environmentalists also won some important battles against oil and gas pipelines, power plants and drilling projects. In a surprising number of cases, organizers defeated polluters through a combination of litigation, civil disobedience and other protests, and by pressuring banks, insurers and big investors.

In 2018, one pipeline CEO lamented the “rising tide of protests, litigation and vandalism” facing his industry, saying “the level of intensity has ramped up,” with “more opponents” who are “better organized.”

Green energy also expanded much faster than Trump and his allies would have liked, albeit not fast enough to avert ecological collapse. The U.S. wind energy sector grew more in Trump’s first term than under any other president, while solar capacity more than doubled. Research shows that this progress was due in part to the environmental movement’s organizing, particularly at the state and local levels.

As with immigration, Trump’s energy agenda divided both political and business elites. Some investors became reluctant to keep their money in the sector, and some even subsidized environmental activism. Judges and regulators didn’t always share Trump’s commitment to propping up fossil fuels. These tensions between the White House and business leaders created openings that climate activists could exploit.

Worker victories in unlikely places

Despite Trump self-promoting as a man of the people, his policies hurt workers in numerous ways – from his attack on workers’ rights to his regressive tax policies, which accelerated the upward redistribution of wealth.

Nonetheless, workers’ direct action on the job won meaningful victories. For example, educators across the country organized dozens of major strikes for better pay, more school funding and even against ICE. Workers in hotels, supermarkets and other private-sector industries also walked out. Ultimately, more U.S. workers went on strike in 2018 than in any year since 1986.

This happened not just in progressive strongholds but also in conservative states like West Virginia, Oklahoma and Kentucky. At least 35 of the educators’ strikes defied state laws denying workers the right to strike.

In addition to winning gains for workers, the strike wave apparently also worked against Republicans at election time by increasing political awareness and voter mobilization. The indirect impact on elections is a common side effect of labor militancy and mass protest.

Quiet acts of worker defiance also constrained Trump. The early months of the COVID-19 pandemic featured widespread resistance to policies that raised the risk of infection, particularly the lack of mask mandates.

Safety-conscious workers frequently disobeyed their employers, in ways seldom reflected in official strike data. Many customers steered clear of businesses where people were unmasked. These disruptions, and fears they might escalate, led businesses to lobby government for mask mandates.

This resistance surely saved many lives. With more coordination, it might have forced a decisive reorientation in how government and business responded to the virus.

Labor momentum could continue into Trump’s second term. Low unemployment, strong union finances and widespread support for unions offer opportunities for the labor movement.

Beyond marches

Progressive movements have no direct influence over Republicans in Washington. However, they have more potential influence over businesses, lower courts, regulators and state and local politicians.

Of these targets, business ultimately has the most power. Business will usually be able to constrain the administration if its profits are threatened. Trump and Elon Musk may be able to dismantle much of the federal government and ignore court orders, but it’s much harder for them to ignore major economic disruption.

While big marches can raise public consciousness and help activists connect, by themselves they will not block Trump and Musk. For that, the movement will need more disruptive forms of pressure. Building the capacity for that disruption will require sustained organizing in workplaces and communities.The Conversation

Kevin A. Young, Associate Professor of History, UMass Amherst

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Continue reading “Reprint: Social movements constrained Trump in his first term – more than people realize”…

Australian elections are never what we expect

personby Gillian Polack
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Three years ago on April 10, I wrote:

Australia’s much-awaited (by us, anyhow) election was called yesterday. This is not just any election. It’s our last opportunity to move away from rabid and corrupt politics.

Our next election is on Saturday and we live in a different country. Three years ago, we were ruled by a queen, and now we’re ruled by a king. For some reason, we are far more prone to jokes under Charles than we were under Elizabeth. Technically, most of the parties are still similar, but this is another pivotal election, and not because of Charles. This was our position three years ago https://treehousewriters.com/wp53/2022/04/10/why-the-aussie-elections-are-so-important-this-year-an-introduction-for-the-unwary

We still have Mr Dutton, currently Leader of the Opposition, who has an apparent and possibly heartfelt desire to be Trump-lite. He replaced Scott Morrison when we decided we didn’t want more Trump-lite three years ago, which makes it a mystery to me why he’s choosing this path right now. Maybe he knows something about Australia that I do not know? I suspect his party would have won the election if he had not made that decision. Why do I think this? Dutton was doing very nicely in the polls until his aim to copy Trump was clear.

Independent of his policies, are his nicknames. I suspect he’s in the running for the most nicknames in history of any senior Australian politician. The one that trumps all (sorry, I could not resist the pun) is “Mr Potato Head.” Australians seldom give nice nicknames. Our current prime minister is nicknamed “Albo” which looks innocuous until you allow for the Australian accent. Our accent means that we call our PM “Elbow.” Intentionally.

Back to the parties. Now, there are other parties (minor ones) who also desire to copy Trump. One has even renamed themselves “Trumpet of Patriots.” No-one speaks kindly of them, but speaking kindly of people is not common in this election. The longest debate I’ve heard about them was which nickname is the best. The one that sticks in my mind (not the most common, just the silliest) is “Strumpet.” In and of itself, this will not affect their votes. Their policies, however, are not compatible with the left, or anyone who votes sort of centralish. Most of us vote sort of centralish, which, in comparison to the US, is slightly left wing. Sometimes quite left wing. This means that the Strumpets are the closest Australia comes to a Trump-like party. They’re not that, though. They’re right wing modified by some current causes. Current causes are a big thing right now.

Back to logic and commonsense. Three years ago I explained that the LNP (which we call the “Coalition,” mostly) were in power and that they were right wing. They are still right wing. They’ve lost a lot of their reputation and are in the middle of a generational change. The vote three years ago caused that, in a way, as did their wipeout in the biggest state in the country. Many of the new candidates for this elections (especially in electorates like my own where not a single LNP person won a seat in either house) are shiny new people about whom we know… not much. (If I were writing this for Aussies, I would use ‘bugger all’ instead of ‘…not much’, but I am aware of US sensibilities about what is everyday English in Australia. Not so aware that I refuse to tease you about it, but aware.)

Labor is now in power, and have the Elbow as leader. Albo is not much loved right now (and neither is Penny Wong, who, three years ago, we all adored), but I suspect Labor still represents more than 50% of Australians. It is a party strongly linked to unions and ought to be quite far left (and once was further left) but now it’s the centrist party. Since I’m in the mood to point things out, the party has US spelling and not Aussie spelling because it was named by a teetotaller US founder. Australia being Australia, we named a pub after him, just as we named a swimming pool after a prime minister who drowned. (I wrote about some of this three years ago. Good historical jokes are worth repeating.) I firmly believe that Australia is everyone’s ratbag cousin who is very charming but gets up to much mischief.

Three years ago I talked about the Greens. This year, I want them at the bottom of everyone’s vote. This won’t happen. They have set up a whole branch of the left (including many people who used to be my friends) and those people exclude Jews and hate Jews and blame Jews and do not listen to Jews and… you can imagine the rest. Me, I live it. They’ve put forward candidates that put the bad stuff happening in the Middle East ahead of what’s happening in Australia. If they get as much power as the latest polls suggest (14% of the vote) then quite a few Australian Jews will either have to hide (many are doing this already) or leave (and some have already left).

The party has always been left wing, but now they’re closer to Communist than to the environmental activists they once were. I am often scolded for saying these things. I answer the scolds with the labels placed in Jewish Australians by their supporters.

Some of the new Left don’t even believe there are Jewish Australians. I had that discussion with someone just yesterday. They now believe I exist, but it took two hours to convince them. We’ve been here since the first long term European settlement in 1788 (one of the First Fleet babies was the first Jewish free settler), so many of us are descendants of colonists. Most of us are descendants of refugees. And every day someone scolds me for personally having colonised Israel and murdered Palestinian children.

The hate is carefully targeted. Most of the rest of Australia has no idea. It’s a bit like domestic violence. “That very good person can’t have caused that black eye. You must’ve walked into a door.” This is being Jewish in Australia right now. It’s why the bottom of both my ballots is already populated by the Green candidates.

There is a new environmental party (Sustainable Australia) which won’t be down the bottom of my ballot. They’re not going to gain power, but if they can increase their influence a bit maybe we can talk about what needs to be done to deal with climate change rather than about the problem of antisemitism. The antisemitism isn’t just the Greens, you see. ASIO (our CIA equivalent) gave its annual assessment publicly this year. They said that antisemitism is Australia’s #1 security threat. Media ignored it. The Greens ignored it. All the other major parties factored it into their policies, but are talking about housing and jobs and the like because we have a housing crisis. I am still dealing with the notion that the new Australia can’t keep more than two ideas in its head at once.

Everyone else belongs to small parties or independents. Lots of those already in Parliament or the Senate are being challenged. Some will get second terms, others will not.

David Pocock is one of the bellwethers. He was voted to replace Zed, who was right wing (LNP) and wildly unpopular as a person. Pocock won partly because he used to be a very famous sportsperson and partly because so many preference votes flowed to him. He was the third in primary votes, and won on preferences. (This is a very Australian thing, and I can explain the voting system again to anyone who has forgotten or would like to be able to follow our vote on Saturday night.) The thing is… he voted leftish for most of his time in the Senate. Frequently, he voted alongside the Greens. He replaced a right wing party in that Senate place. What will that do to his preferences next Saturday?

How many independents and small parties will get through in a strange election where the main left wing party expresses bigotry? It depends on how far we veer left as a country. It depends on how loyal we are to individuals in both Houses. It depends on how personal everything is, in a year when I’m hearing so many people talk about their vote as personal.

I see two big options. One is that a lot of these independents lose their seats. This would return control (in the Senate in particular) to the party with the most seats in the Senate. The other option is that Australians vote a lot of these people into Parliament and the Senate and make everything very, very complex. I’m hoping that this is unlikely, given that many of the independents or small party representatives care only about one issue or are cults of personality, or are “We are not Greens – we just vote with them” people.

We don’t know how many independents or representatives of small parties will get through. The nature of advance polls is to focus on the major parties, so we really do not know how much support these legions of political individuals have in any given region.

Part of this rests on the nature of preferential voting. In the electorate of Blaxland, for instance, which has possibly the highest number of Muslim voters in the country, will the Labor candidate be returned to power, or will Omar Sakr (the Greens candidate) be voted in, or will an independent specifically representing Muslims (the one suggested by the Muslim Vote) get in? The Muslim Vote focuses on Muslim voters and assumes that their main political desire is not about housing or education, but about creating a Palestinian state. I chatted with a friend today, who is also Muslim, but from Indonesia, and she had no idea that this group even existed. The public talk about Muslim votes assume that most Muslims who vote are either Palestinian or support Gazans. And yet… we have many Muslim Australians from Bangladesh, Pakistan, Indonesia, Afghanistan, Turkey, Malaysia and various African countries. I do not know if there is a voting pattern for all these people from all these backgrounds. Some are fully integrated into Australian society, some maintain boundaries and stay largely within their own communities.

My guide to the elections three years ago was a lot simpler. Right now, it feels as if life was a lot simpler three years ago.

PS Just in case you want to know what advice Jewish voters have been given, it’s “Make up your own minds, you’re adults.” We have, however, been given a guide to making up our own minds. 2025 federal election – ECAJ

Time to Change the Stories

personby Nancy Jane Moore
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Cory Doctorow, writing about the idiocy of homo economicus, points out (not for the first time) that corporations are the real AI.

It’s a reasonable metaphor. Corporations, after all, are “persons” – at least legally – and they do have a mindset and way of doing things that is unique to them. People who work for corporations do things in a certain way because it is the corporation’s way, not because they think it’s a good thing to do.

And those who are trying to convince us that so-called AI is the next big thing are continually hinting that if it’s not quite a person yet, it’s going to be.

The problem, I think, is not with corporations per se – there are reasons to form an organization when you need a large group of people to produce something – but rather with our idea that corporations must sacrifice ethical principles in favor of almighty profit.

We could do corporations differently, just as we could develop and use technology differently. The problem is the myths that surround them, stories someone made up that we’re now stuck with.

Those myths and bad models aren’t just limited to corporations or to tech. Here are a few that come to mind:

  • Homo economicus, the myth that individuals always make the rational decision for their own self interest.
  • Survival of the fittest, especially as applied in a cultural context.
  • The myths around gender and sex that assume – in ways small and large – that men are superior and that there’s a distinct binary difference between men and women.
  • The particularly egregious myth of the “tragedy of the commons,” which was invented by a right-wing extremist and which, though it has been thoroughly disproven, is still cited constantly.
  • The belief that AI can think and that it is life-changing tech that can change our lives instead of an improvement in certain digital capabilities useful for a few things.
  • The multiple myths around corporations, including such things as fiduciary duty.
  • American exceptionalism, a myth that is so strong that even those of us who have strong criticisms of our country tend to buy into it.

Which is to say, bad stories. The bad stories that underlie all our cultures are a big part of the problem. Continue reading “Time to Change the Stories”…

Karenporn

personby Madeleine Robins
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I have stumbled over a portion of the internet of which I had previously not known. It’s possible I might have been happier that way, but you can’t unring that bell.

There appears to be a small industry producing short videos or playlets in which one person is truly awful, and gets their comeuppance. Like a scripted version of an encounter filmed on someone’s phone, where (for example) a nasty person calls the cops to shut down a kids’ lemonade stand because it’s a “health code violation”. Of course the nasty person is a well-to-do white woman and the “violation” appears to be nothing more than that the kids are black and selling lemonade in her neighborhood. The nasty person is eventually scolded or arrested or otherwise trounced, and goodness and virtue triumph.

One “brand,” if you can call it that, focuses on the adventures of the Mango Park Police Department; they have their own YouTube channel, and many many videos. The hero, police captain James Porter  (and occasionally, confusingly, a Mango Park judge as well) is played by a black man (actor Verne Alexander) who exudes decency. The Captain’s frequent foil are women cursed by their features to play the “mean and self-righteous” role. There are other repertory players who appear in these things–sometimes as good guys, other times as villains. The playlets all have titles like “Boss Forced to Resign After Mistreating Black Employee,” or “Wealthy Entitled Karen Sues Cops, Does Not End Well.” The sins of the villains are overblown–this is not a subtle art form. The production values are somewhat below those of a 1970s Afterschool Special, with writing to match.

What fascinates me is that these playlets get hundreds of thousands of views on YouTube, and many comments, most of which are of the “You rock, Captain Porter!” variety. Some of the audience seems to confuse Captain/Judge Porter with real world sometime-jurists like Judge Judy Sheindlin.  As I say, there are a lot of these: someone is making enough money doing this to finance these videos and to make more. But who is the audience? 

I was talking to my daughter about this phenomenon. She calls it “rage-bait,” but I’ve been thinking of it as “Karenporn,”* entertainment that sets up an easy target: an entitled, well-t0-do (usually female) white person who thinks that anything that crosses their personal squick line must be illegal; who expects the authorities and the world around her to laud her for taking a stand. And the satisfaction of these stories is that the Karen (or Chad, as I believe her male counterpart is called) gets smacked down hard. 

If you are a conservative of the MAGA stripe, maybe you think this is entertainment for liberals? I find it hard to believe that most of the liberals I know would watch more than one of these films without wincing. Because I wanted to write about them, I watched several, and felt oddly queasy–certainly not triumphant or entertained.

Maybe there’s just a portion of the electorate that hungers to see cartoon villainy get its comeuppance? If so, I recommend almost any of the the Marvel films–both the villainy and production values are more convincing.

__________
*with apologies to my several friends named Karen who do not deserve to have coals of fire heaped on them for the bad behavior of others.

Boyne’s World

personby Gillian Polack
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Today I want to talk about reality. Something that appears and reappears in my historical research life is that we all think we are firmly linked to reality. That we know and understand clearly the difference between pure fiction and the stuff of our everyday.

I want to introduce you to the work of John Boyne, because it quite clearly proves that this is not always the case. Why is Boyne’s work more important than the words of a seven year old friend who recently explained unicorns to me? Because the friend and I have a clear understanding that we believe in unicorns only in certain contexts. We step sideways into a fictional reality and are perfectly agreed on when we should step back and accept that the unicorn in question is a stuffed toy. It is, in fact, the unicorn in question is the stuffed toy that was used to promote the Glasgow world science fiction convention in Australia for two years. More than one child has played with or borrowed it and understands its particular links to reality. One talked to it and made sounds to demonstrate that it was talking back. We held a three-way conversation and her mother was not at all worried that we had descended into a place where the rules of physics and the natural order we know did not hold.

My question is whether John Boyne has the same understanding? He might. If he does, then his work contains other problems. I’ll leave the other problems to you (I’ve had enough of antisemitism today – I’m Jewish and accusations are currently part of my real and ordinary life) and look solely at how Boyne works with the worlds he creates as a writer, and with history.

Let’s start with The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. It’s read by children all over the world, and is the basis for many people’s view of the Holocaust. As fiction, this is a pain, but not in and of itself a problem. Boyne could keep it fictional quite easily by saying, “This is not built from our world. It is imaginary” and suggest that something else be prescribed reading on the Holocaust, something with a stronger basis in our reality. He could also rewrite Jewish characters so they were not cardboard cutouts. I feel like Pinocchio, wanting to be a real human being.

I have not seen him say his work is not our world. Instead, he wrote a sequel, which is at least as problematic as the first novel and is also recommended to me by people who want me to know more about the Holocaust. I ask them where my family is in the book and they cannot answer. I am still a wooden puppet. All my family in Europe in 1939, except for one teenager, died in Auschwitz. Ask me about it sometime. The story is nothing like Boyne’s novels.

If you want to understand where Boyne’s novels differ from actual history and lived experience and why not accepting them as fantasy or magical is a problem, this site is a good place to start:

https://holocaustcentrenorth.org.uk/blog/the-problem-with-the-boy-in-the-striped-pyjamas/

Until the release of a third novel by Boyne, I didn’t realise that the problem was one with reality, nor that Boyne was such a lazy researcher. In A Traveller at the Gates of Wisdom, Boyne uses a recipe for dye that is genuine, because he researched it. He researched it in the same way that I researched the title of his novel, just a moment ago. He used the internet and a search engine. The recipe he came up with was from a game spun from the Legend of Zelda.

I’ve had to look up dyes, myself. I needed a Medieval recipe for a black dye for my forthcoming novel. I didn’t like what I read on the internet and I didn’t trust myself to interpret dying technique without advice, so me, I asked a textile archaeologist, Dr Katrin Kania. An email each way and I had my dye, suitable for exactly the right place and time. My dye may still contain errors, but those are errors of interpretation, not errors of existence.

This recipe had me thinking about how I could accept a well-written novel that has a bunch of problems, some ethical. My conclusion is pretty much what gave me my opening to this little piece. Boyne now represents to me a writer whose work claims historicity but is actually, like my own work, fantastical or science fiction. My work is more historically accurate than his in some places (for instance in my time travel novel) because, well, I’m an historian. The Old Occitan in Langue.doc 1305 is an indication that history is a base for my fiction. The Zelda recipe is an indication that fantasy is a base for his, while the apparent reality of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas suggests alternate history. A nicer Holocaust than the one Jews and Romani actually went through and mostly failed to survive. A Holocaust that didn’t murder children on arrival at an extermination camp and where young German boys weren’t part of Hitler’s youth, and where children could play by a barbed wire fence manned by guards who shot to kill.

This helps me understand some of the people who tell me day in and day out that they do not hate Jews: they live in a fantasy world, just like Boyne. Maybe even the same fantasy world as Boyne.

I did not mean to write anything sarcastic today, but it’s one of those days where body aches and antisemitism walk side by side. If I were to create an alternate reality from today, it would be more depressing than ours. It’s already been created, though, in various places, including in some of the stories in Other Covenants.

I wrote one of the hopeful and happy stories in that volume. I need to get back to that place, where I admit the bigotry and stupidity and that some people are lucky enough to live in a safer world. That’s the thing, Boyne’s fantasy world reflects his own sense of what the real world looks like, as do my fantasy worlds. In my real world, the fate of Australia’s Jews depends on our election on May 3. He lives in a world that’s quite terrifying for me, because he cannot see who he hurts with his writing and how. If he wants to contest that, I would like to see him assert a different sense of reality… by making the Zelda dye using the original ingredients*.

* You can find the recipe partway down the page here: Boy in the Striped Pyjamas writer accidentally includes Zelda recipe in new novel | Eurogamer.net

No Going Back to Normal

personby Nancy Jane Moore
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I’m reading a collection of essays called The New Possible in which the authors discuss their visions of what the future should look like and how we can get there. It was published at the beginning of the Covid pandemic, and the first piece, by Jeremy Lent, talks about the kind of balanced civilization we need to develop.

Early in the piece, he asks:

Does it seem like, as soon as one crisis passes, another one rears its head before you can even settle back to some semblance of normal?

And then, discussing not just Covid but the Black Lives Matter protests from 2020 after the murder of George Floyd, he points out:

Ultimately, there is no going back to normal because normal no longer exists.

It’s an argument based on the deep flaws in neoliberalism. I don’t disagree with either his thesis or his goals, but I think I’d put the bit about normal differently:

We shouldn’t go back to normal because normal sucked.

Now these days, what with the Stupid Coup (a term Rebecca Solnit came up with that fits my perception of things), many of us, including me, would take the old normal. After all, they’re destroying parts of the government that worked well – like the Weather Service and NOAA – and making those that needed some changes, such as the understaffed Social Security offices and Veteran’s care, worse.

That’s not the mention the blatant racism of the “anti DEI” campaign, one that wants to eliminate Jackie Robinson and Harriet Tubman from our history. (It was disgusting that the baseball team that brought Robinson into the majors went to the White House despite the grifter’s efforts to erase him.)

All the flaws that exist in what passed for normal are still there and being made worse – bombing and union busting and mistreatment of immigrants – while people who shouldn’t be in charge are destroying the good stuff.

A couple of months of this and most of us – me included – would really love a return to normal. Except, like I said, normal sucked. Continue reading “No Going Back to Normal”…

A tale of two memoirs

personby Deborah J. Ross
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I love to listen to audiobooks while I work in the garden, take a walk, or cook a meal. Recently, I borrowed two memoirs from my public library and was struck by the contrast. Both were written by famous people and narrated by themselves. I was curious enough about each of them to listen to their stories.

The first was Spare, by Prince Harry (Random House), mostly because it popped up on my screen. Okay, I thought, his perspective on growing up in the shadow of Princess Diana’s death should be be interesting. His life has been very different from (or, in Brit: to) mine.

Being in the public spotlight does not qualify a person to write a compelling memoir, nor does belonging to a royal family confer the ability to narrate with clarity and emotion. Spare fails on both counts. The charm of Harry’s accent lasted about five minutes, long enough for the emotional shallowness—a combination of the dry text and the manner in which it was read aloud—and lack of awareness of his elite white privilege to wear thin. Since I know from my own experience what it’s like to lose a parent unexpectedly, I hoped I’d be able to connect with Harry’s loss. I found his denial of Diana’s death understandable as a child. The problem was that Harry, the adult looking back, seemed to not have gained any insight or grown beyond denial as a childish survival strategy. I heard no understanding of how much he’d matured through adversity, the pain he’d walked through. No connection between that loss and the subsequent estrangements from other members of his family or the mental health issues with which he struggled later in life. But there was lots about the privileged life where everything was provided without him having to work for it and which he accepted without question.

I finally gave up, so I never got to hear about his military service or his courtship with Meghan Markle and how they made a life for themselves apart from his royal relatives. I wish them well, but I found little in this audiobook memoir to attract and hold my interest in who Harry is as a person.

 In contrast, Lovely One, A Memoir, by Ketanji Brown Jackson (Random House) was a joy from start to finish. Jackson is the newest member of the US Supreme Court and the first Black woman to be
confirmed to that post. As a student, she excelled in public speaking and debate, tackling challenging topics with determination and extraordinary eloquence. Her facility with communicating complex ideas shines through her narrative, as does her love for her family, her capacity for enduring friendship, her passion for justice, and her unwavering courage. Whether she is talking about the African origin of her name, the environment of racism and misogyny prevalent in here field even today, her and her husband’s struggles to maintain separate careers while raising two daughters, one of whom is autistic, she speaks with unusual clarity and persuasiveness. I loved every minute of her story. In another life, I want to be her best friend.

Highly recommended.

 

 

Dissertating

personby Gillian Polack
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I’ve finished a complete draft (a clean one) of my dissertation. Around 75,000 words, so about the size of a standard non-fiction study. While there are more processes to get through to reach that draft: annual reports, forms to fill, supervisors to meet and talk to, the actual work involved is the same as for most scholarly work if you already know enough about the subject. This is why the US has additional processes to check that the student has that knowledge. Australia doesn’t have Major Field exams and has limited coursework. It took me about five weeks all up to finish my coursework, in fact. We have to understand ethics for research, and how to work safely, and any languages for the research, and how to actually do the research, and the norms for the field we’re working in, and so forth and so on and… lots of small things, but, in my case, the only big one was learning about literary studies. I’d already done a lot of research in other disciplines and I already read all the languages, so my coursework was basically a matter of going through online modules and demonstrating I had the knowledge.

One entirely odd facet of doing three PhDs is the language side of things. For my first PhD I needed to read nine languages well. I couldn’t read all of those languages well enough (especially Latin, which I could not read at all) so I took a year off in the middle and did a Masters in Canada. That coursework taught me why the US and Canadian PhDs, with the hefty coursework load, are so very handy. It also taught me that my undergraduate degree was very rigorous, which is why I had most of what I needed before I began. I added Latin and palaeography to my skills in Canada and they are very useful!

For my second PhD I only needed five languages, and they were all ones I already knew. I’ve talked to so many fiction writers about this, and most of them did not need any languages except English. “How did you deal with archives and primary sources?” I asked. Some of them don’t. Others pay to have critical works translated or work with translations. Our minds were entirely boggled by each others’ approaches.

This led me to a new understanding. PhD theses (including exegeses attached to Creative Arts PhDs, which is what my second was) are each unique. Underlying skills are similar: research for original work (which is exceedingly different to the type of research I do to write a short story or a novel without a scholarly bent), the capacity to write, the capacity to edit, and an extreme level of patience with the processes of study and publishing.

I said that I’ve finished the thing, but I still have much administratrivia to do, and the copy edit to go through. My thesis will be submitted on 15 May, and it will be months before I know the result.

The need for patience is very familiar to me from my novels. Someones I wait months after the final edits are done for a novel to be published and sometimes years. COVID and the current economic crises have both elongated my wait times (and me being Jewish doesn’t help with some parts of the industry and makes no difference at all to others): I have two novels queued and do not know when they will emerge. My first PhD was beset by quite different crises, but with the same result. The examination took three years, which pretty much cost me my career, back then.

This (almost finished) PhD is different in one big way. The discipline I’m working in is the first I am not entirely comfortable with. I am far more an historian than a literary scholar. Working in Literary Studies has given me a solid appreciation of the work of literary experts. History is not easier, but it suits the way my mind works. I like assembling data and making beautiful patterns from it and explaining it to the world. Now that I understand that not all research does this and that it’s a good thing that there are different approaches (truly, I understand story far, far better now that I can see it from more than one discipline – it’s going to affect both my writing and my teaching, in good ways) my current work of non-fiction is suddenly a lot easier. I don’t have to read every bit of research written in the last 250 years in eleven languages to explain what needs to be explained. It still helps I have the languages, to be honest, but it also helps that I now look for who I’m talking to early on and that I pay far more attention to audience than I used to.

What does this add up to? First, even though I think of it as a dissertation, my PhD is a book. Now that I’m almost done with it, I can finish the book I began during my PhD intermission last year (that trip to Germany was for a purpose).

Two books in a year? Not quite. My earlier work is coming back to haunt me and I may have a third book, which is short essays and thus only needs editing. If this happens (and right now it looks likely) it’s a different type of book again, with quite different research. Short essays don’t need the deep and long research. They take somewhere between an hour (if I already know the subject and have the book I’m writing about in front of me) to about three days. The book adds up, over time, to about 8 months’ work, not three to four years.

Why do I calculate these things? I’m ill (and finally being a bit more open about it) and can’t do all the things I used to do. And yet I’m writing more than I ever have. Short stories (when someone asks) and novels and non-fiction. All these doctorates have helped me understand how much work I need to put in for my various types of writing.

Way back when I was a professional reviewer (a long, long time ago) one of the biggest issues I found with many works, was that balance between the right amount of research, taking the right direction for the research, and keeping in mind that the reader will have the book in front of them. All books need to be readable for their audiences. Those writers who hit this successfully every single time (and you can see some of these simply by looking at the work of other Treehouse writers – I share the Treehouse with amazing writers) can be trusted by their audience. You can pick up a book by them and know it will do what it is supposed to do and that you will be entertained, and often be made to think, and be delighted.

My writing is too diverse for this. For example, I’m untrustworthy for entertainment because my first PhD was so very not entertaining. It wasn’t supposed to be. In fact, I was in huge trouble for the first two years because, as my main supervisor said, “The reader is not supposed to want to turn the page.” This is why most theses are unpublishable as they are and why I didn’t even seek to get that first one published: I had to drain all the joy out to get it through examination.

I’ve learned a great deal over the years, and I managed to be properly scholarly without as much desiccation in the new thesis. It still can’t be published without significant changes. A dissertation is quite different to a book for the wider public because its audience is entirely different.

I still don’t believe anyone needs three PhDs, even if I end up with three myself… but I am in love with the amount of learning along the way. Knowing the difference between writing for academics, for teachers, for the general public and for myself: not a bad outcome. Knowing when to stop researching and why to stop researching for about ten different types of books: what every writer needs.

Let me finish the last unfinished thought and then I’ll get back to work. What is that thought? I used nine languages for the first PhD, didn’t I? It was a Medieval History book, and I read over 139 primary sources (Old French epic legends, Middle English Arthuriana, Latin chronicles and the like), and I had to have both the medieval language and the modern language and… it was so much fun. For years I was the world expert in Old French insults: I still teach how to use them effectively in fighting scenes.

Remember it was five languages for the second PhD, which was a time travel novel and a dissertation? I should have learned an extra language, but I discovered that Old Occitan was easy to read when one knows Latin and various dialects of Old French. I have the manual for it. I read through it once and realised that was enough to read most texts in Old Occitan. A friend once called this “the Medievalist advantage.” I try to say everything in the paragraph pompously because, honestly it sounds pompous.

The only languages I needed for the current PhD were English and French and maybe a little Spanish. That’s all. I learned the disciple, not extra languages.

There have to be PhDs where one only needs one language, but I’ve not undertaken any. Why? There’s a reason for the languages. They open up concepts and give exciting new insights. There is very little research that’s not better with knowledge of more languages. Think about it. Isn’t my life better because I can be rude to idiots in Old French?

In Praise of Inefficiency

personby Nancy Jane Moore
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At the beginning of Jennifer Raff’s book Origin: A Genetic History of the Americas she discusses a 1996 paleontology project in a cave on Prince of Wales Island in Alaska where the scientists, while looking at animal bones, found human remains.

They immediately stopped work and consulted with people from the Tlingit and Haida tribes who live in the region. After some discussions, it was agreed that the scientists could continue, but that if they found it was a sacred burial site, they would stop. And they were also required to share their findings with the tribes before they were published.

In this case, it was not a burial site and the eventual outcome of the work showed that the bones of the person they found were related to the people living there and that they went back more than 10,000 years.

But what got me were not just the results, but the fact that the paleontologists stopped and consulted with the people native to the region. That does not fit into the modern focus on being “efficient.”

Meeting with people takes time, especially when the way the paleontologists look at the world and the way indigenous cultures look at the world are often at cross purposes. It’s easy to take the position that scientific inquiry should always come first.

But they didn’t, and the end result was useful to everyone. It just took extra time. And it treated people who were affected by the work with respect.

That brings me to how democracy should work. The people who are affected by decisions need an opportunity to discuss the matter and actually be heard. This is slow. It’s not efficient. But it’s vital to making a government that people can believe in.

I’m generally an advocate for inefficiency. It’s how I get my exercise these days. I walk a lot, and I’m more likely to get out and walk if I have an errand to run. So I try to run my errands in opposite directions, even if I could combine them in one, and I stretch them out over a couple of days when I could do them all at once.

It’s a purposeful inefficiency. It’s not careless or sloppy. And that’s the kind we need in running democratic institutions.

Now we have a lot of council meetings with public comment periods – though they are often structured with a lot of annoying rules that you only understand if you spend a lot of time going to council meetings. And much of that has become pro forma: you have comment period and then the council does what they were going to do anyway.

You often don’t get the impression that anyone is listening.

So what if, say, you were going to fund housing for homeless people and you actually spent a great deal of time talking with the homeless people in the area about what they needed and what they wanted. I’m pretty sure the project would end up looking quite a bit different.

It also probably wouldn’t add as much to the coffers of the local developers who make their living getting city contracts to building housing for low income people who are never consulted about what kind of housing they need and want.

It’s not efficient. But over time, done right, it might actually put a real dent in the problem of too many people who can’t afford a place to live. Continue reading “In Praise of Inefficiency”…