Not as right as I’d like to be.

I’ve been saying the following, or variations of it, for a while:

“If you think you favor limited gov’t, but you prefer funding soldiers to diplomats… You have another think coming.”

Sounds good, and everyone knows the US Defense Department budget is big, while the State Department’s gets hardly any attention at all.

Trouble is… Well, while it’s mildly true, it’s not as true as I’d like.

The Defense Department’s budget for Fiscal Year 2014, according to this document: $526.6 billion
Total DoD personnel, both active duty military and civilian, according to the Department: 2.12 million
Budget per employee: $248.4K

The State Department’s budget for FY 2014, per this document: $14.4 billion
Total employees at State worldwide, per this page at State’s web site: 58,000
Budget per employee: $248.3K

{blink}

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone at State looks at DoD’s budget, and works back from there.

Toolsy

It took me a while, but I think I’ve identified what’s most troubling to me about Dr. Tom Nichols’ response to me, and his writing in general.

No, it’s not the way he rails against people thinking they’re a special snowflake even as he argues he’s a special snowflake (although there is that); it’s not the way he dismisses epistemological arguments even as he’s making one of his own (although there’s that, too); it isn’t even here, where he and his writing partner attempt to rebut a critique of one of their pieces by saying said critique is, “a series of improbable guesses and bald assertions,” even as they make — you guessed it — a series of improbable guesses and bald assertions in their own rebuttal.

No, for all of these demonstrations of bruises to his amour-propre, for which he should receive a prescription of reading La Rochefoucauld a dozen times or so, that’s not what he reminds of the most.

Have you seen or read Michael Lewis’ Moneyball? Do you remember the scene where the bunch of grumpy, getting along in years scouts are confronted by the sabermetric numbers guys, and basically say it’s insulting that the stats heads should even be in the same room with them?

See if this rings any bells:

Me: “I don’t think expertise qua expertise has died… rather, a typical reader today asks that expertise be demonstrated, and regards tactics attempting to evade such a demonstration as evidence of not having expertise in the first place.”

Nichols: “You also note in your post that “a typical reader today asks that expertise be demonstrated.” That one phrase sums up much of what prompted me to write my own post in the first place. My CV and professional history are posted on my website, specifically so they may be inspected by people who are curious about my background. My books and articles are scattered widely across the internet. And yet, when someone like me (or John Schindler, or any other colleague) makes a claim to greater expertise than a layman, we run into demands like yours that our bona fides must be “demonstrated” — again and again and again.

Such repeated requests for demonstrations of competence, when there is abundant evidence of that competence, is a sign of intellectual peevishness and distrust that undermines honest discussion. Answering those constant requests would be a sign of intellectual and professional insecurity, and a waste of both my time and yours.”

There’s the problem of, such requests aren’t “constant” from the asker’s point-of-view — each one is asking for the first time for them, even if it’s the fifth time Dr. Nichols has heard it this week. I get the potential tediousness of that. But what this boils down to is, “Just because I say I’m an expert on baseball, you expect me to know about UZR? WAR? PITCHF/x? PECOTA? Go away, kid… Can’t you see the World Series ring I got 23 years ago?”

He then ends with a folksy anecdote about growing up in a restaurant. Which is fine, I’m prone to folksy anecdotes myself (just ask my co-workers). But I’m not sending the food back dozens of times. I’m saying, “You know, you might get a lot more customers if you bent just a little bit their way.” (And didn’t put so much pepper in the sauce while you say how much you hate pepper, but hey.)

“(B)ut if you don’t like the food, well, then you just don’t like the food, and we won’t be able to accommodate you.”

OK, done. Noted.

(And I must mention the commenter who says the thought of someone forging a blog/twitter account/etc. “fails the test of reasonableness.” Sure. Completely unreasonable. Except for the fact it happened to an MSNBC/Slate reporter this week. And then there’s Alan Sokal’s Fashionable Nonsense. Or, if you want to get more military about it, the Stolen Valor Act of 2005 must’ve been passed because there was no need for it, right? Or, um, not. One might get the impression h. sap. occasionally behaves in an unreasonable way, or something.)

The Death of Advertising (Part Rx)

The New York Times is reporting that GlaxoSmithKline is both a) no longer going to use physicians to flack their drugs to other physicians, and b) will no longer tie “compensation of sales representatives to the number of prescriptions doctors write.”

This is perhaps the worst news I’ve seen yet for advertising.

How so? Well, first off, the doctors selling to other doctors was an instance of person-to-person word-of-mouth sales. No news, radio, tv, internet purchases as such. In other words, these were pitches that were unmediated and direct. And they weren’t generating enough sales to earn back their expense (presumably either fixed amounts or a cut of the sales, to the doctors doing the talking).

But the other thing is… The holy grail of Facebook, Google, Twitter, and Big Data in general is that they’ll allow very targeted ads. You won’t see “junk” anymore – you’ll only see items you should have a demonstrated interest in.

Tell me, can you think of something more targeted than doctors talking to other doctors about medicines? What does this tell us about the effectiveness of such an approach?

Nope, we’re not in an internet bubble… We’re in an advertising bubble. The evidence that advertising simply isn’t cost-effective at generating sales keeps adding up.

UPDATE: I originally heard about this story at KUOW’s The Record. Listen to Natalie Mizik, a professor of marketing at the University of Washington, and you can just hear how ineffective the whole thing was for GSK.

The Growth of Skepticism

Dear Dr. Nichols:

I recently read your post, “The Death of Expertise.” I have a few thoughts in reply.

I found you originally through poking about the Harvard Extension web site. My father was an alumnus of Harvard Extension, in 1967 or so. The possibility of taking a course from Harvard Extension as a distance student is an amusing one to me, as a tribute to him.

Anyway, I stumbled upon your course that’s offered as a sample, “Popular Culture and US Foreign Policy During the Cold War.” After your many claims of how tough the writing for the course would be, I decided to take a look at your own journal writing, to see how well you do yourself.

Keep that idea in mind — it’s important.

My constitutional law professor in college used to say that the most difficult cases aren’t between “right” and “wrong” — those are easy — but rather between two “right”s. I suspect that much of the pushback you observe in both this post and your earlier, “Snowden, Manning, and Screwtape,” comes down to conflict between these two premises:

* Information on the internet comes from a variety of sources, with a variety of credibility. As such, the best approach is to read skeptically, check the sources cited, etc.
* On the other hand, Tom Nichols has worked long and hard to be an expert, and doesn’t appreciate being read as just one source among many on the internet.

You may recall that Mr. Reagan said, “Trust, but verify.” My own suspicion is that when your readers ask you, “to re-litigate every thought we’ve ever had or every word we’ve ever written,” they’re doing that because there’s no other way for them as readers to judge whether you’re authentically an expert, or someone pretending to be. (Or even someone pretending to write as Dr. Nichols, and borrow the cachet of your expertise.) You may say that your web site and Twitter account would be a long way for someone to go to impersonate you, and your expertise, but as Dr. Kieran Healy recently tweeted, “Hoaxes are plausible by definition.”

In fact, I’m old enough to recall one of the major critiques of college students in the 1980’s and 1990’s was that we simply didn’t ask enough questions, and frequently seemed in class to just be accepting the conventional wisdom delivered by professors uncritically. On the one hand, this implies those critiques have been taken onboard, and students today are more skeptical. On the other, I can’t help noticing from the Harvard video that you and I are rough contemporaries. Perhaps this means you took such behavior then to be “the way things are done,” and now that you’re in a position of expertise yourself, you find it irksome that now students have found the critical faculties they lacked in previous times, now that it’s directed towards you.

But the blunt truth remains that, to a random reader, you are just another guy on the internet. I don’t think expertise qua expertise has died… rather, a typical reader today asks that expertise be demonstrated, and regards tactics attempting to evade such a demonstration as evidence of not having expertise in the first place.

And this is not new to the internet as such. For example, when you say:

“There I was 30 years ago, foolishly sitting in Leningrad during the Cold War, learning Russian, following the Soviet press, traveling to conferences, and writing books and articles, when all I had to do to understand Russia was talk to some guys on the internet.”

…I can easily see Socrates saying,

“There I was 30 years ago, foolishly sitting in Athens, learning rhetoric, following the discussions of other philosophers, and asking questions at symposia, when all I had to do to understand philosophy was read some written books.”

Or…

“There I was 30 years ago, foolishly sitting in the monastery in Cluny, learning calligraphy and Latin, following the discussions that my fellow monks wrote to each other, and asking questions at my university, when all I had to do to understand theology was read Luther’s printed version of the Bible in the vernacular.”

…and surely you can write your own variants on Eton/Oxford vs. a comprehensive school, Harvard as a legacy vs. some guy with a BA on the GI Bill, etc.

Dr. David Brin has an interesting piece he published about 20 years ago called, “The Dogma of Otherness.”

“Anthropologists tell us that every culture has its core of central, commonly shared assumptions–some call them zeitgeists, others call them dogmas. These are beliefs that each individual in the tribe or community will maintain vigorously, almost like a reflex.

“It’s a universal of every society. For instance, in the equatorial regions of the globe there’s a dogma that could be called machismo, in which revenge is a paramount virtue that runs deeper even than religion. From Asian family centrism to Russian pessimism, there are worldviews that affect nations’ behavior more basically than superficial things like communism, or capitalism, or Islam. It all has to do with the way children are raised.

“We, too, have our zeitgeist. But I am coming to see that contemporary America is very, very strange in one respect. It just may be the first society in which it is a major reflexive dogma that there must be no dogmas!

Then again, I too am just some writer on the internet. So what do I know?