The Garden

Several months ago I wrote an opinion piece that defended Wikipedia on the grounds that, in principle, the common criticisms over its questionable accuracy are not unique to Wikipedia—these criticisms, ultimately, apply to all information sources regardless of status or prestige. The only difference between Wikipedia and other information sources is that Wikipedia candidly tells the reader that its information is suspect, whereas other information sources tend to mask this feature. My conclusion was that readers should be more circumspect about the information they consume, regardless of the source. In fact, I argued, consumers should be even more circumspect about information sources that market themselves as distinguished “authorities” and color themselves infallible. My reasoning for this is the fact that the greater the amount of “authority” a source appears to have, the greater the temptation is in the consumer to suspend his or her scrutiny over that source of information.

The reason I bring this up is because a recent article published in The New York Times draws on this same issue in a powerful way. On Apr. 20, The Times ran an article written by David Barstow entitled “Behind TV Analysts, Pentagon’s Hidden Hand.” The article suggested, based on The Times’ research, that a substantial number of former military experts turned “military analysts” for major media outlets have been a part of a calculated, systematic effort by Pentagon officials to favorably spin information about the war in Iraq.

In the opening paragraphs of the article, Barstow writes the following: “Hidden behind [the] appearance of objectivity… is a Pentagon information apparatus that has used [military analysts] in a campaign to generate favorable news coverage of the administration’s wartime performance, an examination by The New York Times has found…Most of the analysts have ties to military contractors vested in the very war policies they are asked to assess on air.”

Barstow then goes on to explain in more detail who was implicated in this campaign and points out that much of his information was derived from some 8,000 pages of messages, emails and transcripts that The Times successfully sued the Defense Department to obtain. He further writes: “These records reveal a symbiotic relationship where the usual dividing lines between government and journalism have been obliterated.”

What the thrust of this article suggests is that, despite the authoritative muscle of popular and relatively respectable sources—such as mainstream news outlets, the Pentagon, and the military analysts in question—there nevertheless remains the risk that those sources can become corrupted and engage in the dissemination of dubious information.

Now, the dissemination of dubious information is bad enough in itself, but when it is over matters of war, as Barstow’s article suggests it is in this case, then it is indeed grossly disturbing. Many lives have been lost or compromised over the wars waged in response to the information peddled by these “experts,” “analysts” and “officials;” and, if Barstow’s article is even remotely accurate, the general public ought to be alarmed at the extent to which their authoritative sources can mislead them, and outraged about the consequences of such deception. More than anything though, the general public ought to cease assuming that authoritative sources are virtually infallible, reliable sources that can be trusted without scrutiny. As it is in the case of Wikipedia, it is the responsibility of the individual to decide what is and is not worth believing, no matter who or what a given source claims to be. Even though it is wrong for authorities to abuse their power and intentionally misinform, it is still the consumer’s fault if he or she is duped by the misinformation.

Now that we have good reason to suspect that a substantial amount of the information we have been given about the still-in-progress U.S. wars are biased towards those who have vested interests in the positive characterization of these wars, it is incumbent upon us to recognize how severe the consequences of consumer negligence can be and to seriously rethink the way we absorb information about the world.

Many seem to have accepted the official story of 9/11—that 19 hijackers, led by Osama Bin Laden, flew three planes into U.S. buildings and a fourth plane into a field in Pennsylvania—since it was first proposed back in 2001. However, much like in the case of the John F. Kennedy assassination, a growing number of people have begun to question and seriously doubt the government’s version of 9/11. And, I will confess, I place myself among them. The reasons for this are many and varied, but suffice it to say here that, in general, the 9/11 skeptics (often derided as “conspiracy theorists”) argue that the nature, scale and complexity of the sequence of events from 9/11 are too great to be explained merely by 19 hijackers flying planes into buildings.

To provide a fairly straight-forward example of this, consider that on 9/11, two buildings are believed to have been struck by hijacked airliners in the World Trade Center (WTC) complex, yet three buildings in the complex completely collapsed that day (the third being a 47-story steel framed building known as WTC 7). What the 9/11 skeptics doubt is that the two airplane crashes are sufficient, by themselves, to explain the destruction of the three WTC buildings, and therefore argue that there is good reason to at least consider the possibility that something besides the airplanes contributed to the destruction of these buildings—especially WTC 7 which was not struck by a plane.

Now, I am not here to defend a 9/11 skeptic’s position on the grounds that their assertions about 9/11 are necessarily correct; rather, I am here to defend the reasons one might have in challenging an official story (like 9/11) in general, from the standpoint that it is better to debate all ideas openly than it is to restrict the range of public discourse to topics that are “politically correct,” emotionally “neutral” or otherwise believed to be “self-evident.” My motivation for this is the observation that much of mainstream society (including political networks, the mainstream media, and the U.S. population in general) have responded to 9/11 skepticism with either a high degree of ridicule, or a heavy dose of hostility—sometimes both. Individuals who have vocalized their doubts over the official story of 9/11 have had their reputations attacked, their careers jeopardized and their “patriotism” challenged simply because they believe there are serious questions about 9/11 that remain unanswered.
Having monitored the topic of 9/11 skepticism for many years now, I believe it is fair to say that mainstream media outlets have either belittled those who doubt the official 9/11 story, or completely ignored them. Consequently, much of the U.S. population (who largely relies on mainstream outlets for their information) has adopted a similar standoffish attitude about 9/11 skepticism. I believe that this general attitude is, at its least extreme, counterproductive to the interests of both the U.S. and the world’s at large; and, at its most extreme, highly dangerous. I say this because events of 9/11’s magnitude have consequences—serious consequences—for all parties involved, and any error in judgment, no matter how slight, can literally alter the lives of millions. The events of 9/11, and its subsequent interpretations, have already clearly impacted the lives of millions of people around the world (e.g. the war in Afghanistan and, to a debatable extent, the war in Iraq, as well as increases in aggressive policing and detention practices due to the so-called “war on terror”). What would the consequences to the world be if the official story of 9/11 was inaccurate in some regard?

I think it is fair to assume that most would agree that if—theoretically speaking—the official story of 9/11 was found to be flawed in a fundamental way, then a large portion of subsequent U.S. policies, both foreign and domestic, would be drastically misguided at best, and outright appalling at worst. It is with this backdrop in mind that many 9/11 skeptics (I cannot speak for all) challenge the official 9/11 story. In other words, it is out of a desire for accuracy over matters of heightened historical importance that 9/11 skeptics voice their dissenting opinions—not out of spite for a particular faction or ideology. Therefore, the standoffish attitudes that many hold toward 9/11 skeptics runs the risk of suppressing legitimate inquiries into the understanding of the events of 9/11 and, by extension, runs the risk of negatively influencing judgments made in response to 9/11. In my opinion, it is far better to take 9/11 skepticism seriously than it is to dismiss it on its face.

So my argument here is that we, as a society that purports to embrace free and open discourse about public issues, are far better off if we err on the side of too much debate (including excesses in the diversity of viewpoints) than we are to draw sweeping conclusions based on incomplete (and often times emotionally driven) pieces of information. In my opinion, 9/11 remains to this day an unsolved mystery that, in spite of its uncertainties, is dictating a significant proportion of U.S. policy. Of course, I understand that the issue is sensitive for many because, no matter how you look at it, 9/11 was a tragic event; however, reactions based on misconceptions about the event are potentially just as tragic, if not more so, than the initiating event itself.

Furthermore, the topic of 9/11 itself is educational (official story or otherwise) insofar as it integrates many elements of public interest into one pressing issue. For example, in order to discuss 9/11 and its implications, one must learn something about history, the role of government and its power structure (including emergency powers), civil liberties (and the suspension thereof), the military, national security, the news media, just war theory, morality, crash physics and high-rise engineering, the Federal Aviation Administration’s policies and regulations, foreign culture and belief, etc. To neglect to embrace this topic in public forums is a sorely missed opportunity—especially when so much effort and attention is devoted to celebrity gossip and “reality” TV in the mainstream—and, for the reasons mentioned in this article, such neglect may even be hazardous to the millions of people affected by our understanding of 9/11.

After all my years of schooling, more than anything else I have come to really appreciate the role of the classroom discussion in my educational experience. Nothing beats the process of engaging in a piece of material with my peers and a knowledgeable professor. It motivates me to clearly focus, be creative, and have fun with my newly-acquired knowledge. Far too often throughout my years of classroom involvement, however, have I seen perfectly good discussions soured by a small number of classmates that just don’t seem to “get it.”

As we all know, a classroom is full of many students—usually at least a dozen or more—and everyone is there (supposedly) to benefit from, and participate in, the class. Since there is a large number of people present in a class, there is a natural problem: How to keep everyone on the same page?
From my experience, I’ve developed the opinion that few people actually think or care about this problem—both students and professors alike. I have been involved in many a classroom discussion throughout my academic career, but I can barely remember an instance where the actual etiquette of a classroom discussion was brought up for the class to consider. The consequence of this, unfortunately, has been readily apparent to me. More often than not, a promising classroom topic falls victim to a group of classroom participants who simply fail to grasp the momentum of the discussion, and their attempt to participate often takes the discussion off on an irrelevant tangent.

I don’t think that anyone purposely wants to go off on a tangent in a class discussion, but I just don’t think the average college student has much training in the art of dialogue. Most people feel as though they are supposed to contribute something to a classroom discussion, but they aren’t always sure how to do it. What often happens is students try to say something, anything, to just get involved. And then, out of concern for the student’s feelings, no one—not even the instructor—will point out to that student that their comment was either short sighted or irrelevant. That is, of course, understandable given that we don’t want to hurt other peoples’ feelings; however, the interests of the class also deserve to be appreciated and I think it might be more worthwhile to be liberal in our criticisms of others’ comments in class.

This is not to say that a criticism must be tactless—there are many forms of constructive criticism out there that students can learn from. If they were used more regularly, I think students would learn more about the role of constructive criticism in the educational process—both how to give it and how to receive it—that would, by extension improve, the quality of subsequent classroom discussions. Sure, students will feel embarrassed and uncomfortable at times, but is that necessarily a bad thing? Is it not part of our education to build genuine confidence in ourselves? Are we not here to learn what it is like to generate an idea, present the idea to a group, and then see that idea fail? Will we not have to present and defend our ideas to others outside classroom walls in our careers? I think that giving and receiving criticism is part of the learning process and I believe that the more other students challenge each other in a class discussion, the more educational value all the students will ultimately get out of the class. So I propose that we take a more confrontational stance in our classrooms. When a fellow student makes an irrelevant comment, we should tell the student that their comment was off the mark and also tell them why—how else will they learn from their mistakes, and how else will the integrity of the class discussion be preserved?

When thinking about the national versus private health care debate, I have come to realize that there are two assumptions that both sides of the debate seem to share without much concern. These assumptions are that Western style medicine is unequivocally synonymous with “health,” and that the cost of medical diagnostic and interventionary procedures are completely normal and acceptable.

Regarding the former, I think it is fair to say that most people associate the term “health care” with what I will call “Western medicine.” That is to say that most people in the US think that “health care” is the act of going to a doctor and having their body examined and often physically “treated” in some way. What distinguishes Western medicine from other forms of medicine is its scientific, and somewhat mechanical, approach to the human body. I once worked as an emergency room clerk in a major hospital and on multiple occasions, some of the nurses I worked with relayed to me that they felt their work resembled the work of an auto mechanic. My point is that Western medicine is primarily motivated by the assumption that the human body requires regular medical “maintenance” in order to be “healthy,” and that the more medical “maintenance” the body receives, the “healthier” the body will be. In other words, it is assumed that the human body is, by nature, built to “malfunction” and will, in time, succumb to illness or disease without the aid of regular medical attention. Therefore, it is easy to see why both national health care advocates and private health care advocates alike agree that health care itself is important, and that the more health care one can receive the better.

I think there is something peculiar about this conception of “health” and “health care” though. When thinking about what counts as progress in the field of human health, the idea that “more maintenance” is synonymous with “better health” appears to twist the logic behind the term “health.” “Health,” as I think of it, refers to a body that is self-sustaining and free of dis-ease. Such a healthy body would, in theory, need less external maintenance from the medical profession, not more. Therefore, my conception of “progress” in the field of human health would include the diminished need for medical treatments altogether—something that would render the national versus private health care debate moot if it were actually realized.

This idea that progress in human health is the diminishment of need for medical attention is quite different from the idea that progress in human health is the proliferation of medical attention. The way I see it, the medical industry is no different from any other industry or bureaucracy: once it is established, it will do all it can to preserve its existence and prevent its extinction. As cold as it sounds, the medical industry, by its nature, thrives on the ill-health of humans. Therefore, the medical industry has a vested interest in humans believing that they are vulnerable without the aid of regular medical care; and, as I alluded to earlier, this is precisely the attitude most people seem to have about human health. With this in mind, I think it is worth considering how far we really want to go in our demanding of more access to medical care. The more ground the medical industry gains in convincing the public that “health” equals “medical attention,” the less likely our culture will ever wean itself off of medical dependence in the future. Not only is dependence on the medical industry undesirable for the individual (because it means the individual lacks control over their own health status), but it is also bad for the individual financially.

Much of the push for national health care is motivated by the astronomically high costs of medical diagnostic and interventionary procedures. People feel they need health insurance because they could not possibly afford to pay for medical care out of their own pocket. Now, there may or may not be good reasons for the high cost of medical care so I’m not going to say that the cost is something that could be realistically reduced (although, I suspect that the high cost of medical care is not entirely natural), but I will say that regardless of the reason for the high cost, individuals, as well as society as a whole, could benefit from a reduction in medical expenses. With this in mind, it easily follows that “progress” in the area of human health could be conceived of as the diminishment of dependence on medical care. By reducing the need for medical treatments, individuals, as well as the collective society, will relax the financial burden that expensive medical care places on them.

Of course, much of what I have to say here depends on an opposing assumption to the one commonly held by Western medicine—that is that the human body is not condemned to succumb to ill-health without the aid of regular medical attention. In other words, the assumption I am advocating here is that the human body has more self-healing capacities, and is therefore more predisposed to maintain a healthy physical condition on its own, than the Western model of medicine supposes. Consequently, “progress” in the field of human health would be to increasingly emphasize this self-healing feature of the human body, and to subsequently reduce the demand for expensive medical care. In the context of the debate over health insurance, I think it is at least worth reminding ourselves what we actually mean by “progress”—and that the Western model of health is only one model out of many from which to choose.