William M. Briggs

Statistician to the Stars!

Page 146 of 426

The Future of Scientific Publications: Abandon Journals?

A paper undergoes peer review

It took three years–or was it four?—for a paper I submitted to the august journal Annals of Statistics to wend its way through peer review. When it came back to me stamped “Rejected: And Don’t You Dare Try To Resubmit!” I originally thought it was a prank because I did not recall writing it.

However, when I saw contained in the body of this wrongly neglected jewel a marvelous joke—and not a few typos—the memory of authorship returned to me.

Another journal has only recently stopped a bounty hunter from dogging my tracks to collect page charges for an article I wrote perhaps fifteen years ago. Page charges, you ask? Why, many journals require the author to pay for the privilege of publishing. Science is the original vanity press. The economics of publishing are complicated. Journals recover the expense of charging authors by also charging readers. Publishers do add value, though. Example: they provide the service of unburdening the author of his copyright.

David Banks, a statistician at Duke, and eminence of the American Statistical Association, has asked for comments about the publishing process (it was from him that I stole today’s title):

I fear our current approach to publishing does not serve us well. It takes too long, so our best scientists are driven to other journals in faster disciplines. Refereeing is noisy and often achieves only minor gains. And the median quality of reviews is deteriorating due to journal proliferation, pressure on junior faculty to amass lengthy publication lists, and the slow burnout of conscientious reviewers.

All true. So’s this: “Published research often does not replicate”. For papers which rely on statistics, this is the largest sin, as regular readers are well aware.

Banks reminds us the system today was not always thus.

Today’s publication process was essentially invented by Henry Oldenburg, the first corresponding secretary of the Royal Society. He received letters from members describing their research, copied them out in summary form, and mailed those summaries to other members.

It was also the habit of pre-journalified scientists to correspond with one another; letters were passed in lieu of official publication. Yet we admit journals initially were a boon, especially when there was limited reader- and authorship.

Today, though, in statistics alone, there are dozens upon dozens of publications, with more appearing regularly. An advanced computerized statistical model predicts there will be 1.2 journals per statistician by the year 2023—none of which will or need be read. Why the increase? The depressing desire for quantification of the unquantifiable (a particularly dismal trait in statisticians).

It is publish or perish: paper count is the sine qua non of success within the university. Without it, departments would be aswim, unable to decide on promotion or hiring. Remove paper count—the statistic everybody uses while simultaneously decrying—and there will be no objective basis to decide who stays or who is booted.

Trouble is, with an increasing multitude of outlets, anybody can achieve a pleasing sum. This causes other metrics to be sought. Like citation count, or the sounds-like-advertising “impact” factor. Trouble with the latter is that the “best” journals have limited space. And then, because of the charmingly naive view that peer-review is a rigorous filter of truth, authors spend just as much time editing the work of others as they do writing their own papers. And then the true definition of random is found in considering why papers are accepted or rejected.

Are there alternatives to our stultifying system? Sure. I figured the world deserved to read my jocose but rejected jottings. So instead of enduring the desultory review process again, I stuck the paper on this page and on arXiv. Where, to my delight, it was actually read.

Larry Wasserman (whose books on mathematical statistics are highly readable), commenting on Banks’s plea, agrees and said:

I think we should abandon journals completely and just use arXiv.

We should eliminate refereeing completely and let the marketplace of ideas decide the value of a paper.

Sounds nice. But how do you get credit for a letter? Or a blog post? Or an arXiv dump? The worry is somebody suffering from latent accountancy will suggest number of downloads or the like—as if that would not be easy to manipulate.

Well, you shouldn’t get numerical credit. Each person’s work, or potential for same, should be judged on its own as a whole. This requires extra effort for reviewing committees, who would actually have to read instead of count papers, but tough.

This ploy isn’t perfect, either. No system is. For example: Article popularity is a weak gauge of quality. It’s easy to write many papers quickly in “hot” areas (I once attended a conference where everybody started their talk “Wavelets are…”). But some topics are more experimental or are foundational, areas which may never pay off but which are worthy of investment. And there will 1,000 arXiv wavelet-neural-net-“big”-data-of-the-day papers to every probability-really-means-this work.

The system of books, blogs, and backups to arXiv is probably the least worst.

Update Corrected thanks to the ever-watchful eye of JH.

Realism vs. Anti-Realism I: Introduction — Guest Post by G. Rodrigues

Mathematical realist Blaise Pascal

The miracle of the appropriateness of the language of mathematics for the formulation of the laws of physics is a wonderful gift which we neither understand nor deserve. We should be grateful for it and hope that it will remain valid in future research and that it will extend, for better or for worse, to our pleasure, even though perhaps also to our bafflement, to wide branches of learning.

— Eugene Wigner, “The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the Natural Sciences”

These are the final words of E. Wigner’s famous essay, which you can find on-line here. Wigner uses the God-haunted word “miracle”, once in the quoted paragraph, several times in the whole essay. But His presence is more palpable when he speaks about the wonderful, unmerited gift, of mathematics; I do not know what was his relation with the Deity, but he may have found himself in the sad predicament of being thankful and having no one to thank for.

The sense of the miraculous, or more prosaically for those who distrust such intrusions of the numinous in our ordinary lives, the sense of wonder, is the beginning of all True Philosophy. There is a puzzle here and an answer must be found. Why is the universe orderly? Not only that, why is the orderliness of the universe of such a nature that it can be described and explained, at least in part (and I would add, only in part) by mathematics? And by supremely abstract mathematics, discovered and developed to solve purely mathematical problems, quite independently of its appropriateness for describing the real world[1]?

A tentative answer is to adopt a realist stance and say that mathematical objects have an extra-mental reality just like the common ordinary objects of our experience like rocks, trees, persons and planets, and in studying them we are, somehow, somewhere, somewhen, discovering objective features of reality. This suggestion needs some considerable spelling out, but to see how it imposes itself forcefully, let us watch W. Quine make the so called indispensability argument[2]:

  1. We should believe the theory which best accounts for our sense experience.
  2. If we believe a theory, we must believe in its ontological commitments.
  3. The ontological commitments of any theory are the objects over which that theory first-order quantifies.
  4. The theory which best accounts for our sense experience first-order quantifies over mathematical objects.
  5. We should believe that mathematical objects exist.

Lest there be any confusion, I hasten to add that I do not find this argument compelling. Premises 2 and 3 are particularly hard to swallow[3]. If I invoke it here it is for two wholly different sorts of reasons: one, the delightful irony in borrowing a stick from your enemy (Quine was a confirmed naturalist) with which to beat your other enemies and two, to once again stress that, given how inimical mathematical realism is to naturalism[4], it is quite telling that Quine felt compelled to adopt it (and expansively redefine naturalism along the way). For otherwise, if mathematical objects are nothing but a product of the mind with no objective basis on reality (the mind itself being, on some accounts, the random material product of a highly contingent history), in the same way as fictions are, then what can possibly explain their appropriateness in the description of reality?

If that is indeed the case, and the Dirac operator of a spin manifold or the curvature of a connection are just as fictitious as novels or children stories, then are we not forced to retreat to the nigh-mystical position of Wigner? And if that is indeed the case, what is the principled distinction between say, the Dirac operator on a spin manifold, and quarks which because of QCD confinement cannot be observed free? Are we not committed to say that quarks are equally fictitious? And if that, then are we not obliged to conclude that science tells us nothing objective about the nature of the world? And if that, should not electrons or evolution by natural selection go the same way of quarks?

But enough of questions and on to the heart of the matter. Mathematical realism is just one among a cluster of related problems involving the ontological status of such seemingly abstract objects as universals, properties, propositions, relations, etc. All these notions are intimately related to one another. For the sake of simplicity, I will lump them all under one banner, although realists of various stripes will insist on all sorts of distinctions.

Here, I will defend not mathematical realism per se[5], but the closely related problem of realism with respect to universals. For those who have read The Last Superstition, you will know that Edward Feser addresses this problem in pages 39-49. Although I will return to some of the arguments made in those pages, here I will take a different route and follow J. P. Moreland’s Universals[6].

The plan for this series is then as follows: first I will present an account of the realist position with respect to universals, the phenomena that it purports to explain and the challenge it presents to anti-realists. Then I will survey some variants of anti-realism with respect to universals and point out, not only the problems they have, but how these problems typically recur in all anti-realist stances. Then I will respond to the more common anti-realist objections. I will wrap things up with a few words on why this seemingly abstruse and irrelevant problem is actually at the heart of many contemporary discussions by (very) briefly surveying one such example and along the way annoy to no end and give offense to those delicate, clueless, liberal souls. At least so I hope[7].

Some caveats are in order. My background is in mathematics, and to a lesser extent in physics. From this, two immediate corollaries follow:

1. As a general rule, mathematicians are notoriously bad expositors; over-abundance of technical detail in contrast to a dearth of understanding. In mathematics, this is somewhat inevitable, as knowing the technical details is more often than not what understanding amounts to. So while I cannot say that I have any of the qualities usually recognized in mathematicians like rigor, attention to detail, etc., you can surely expect that I amnot the exception to the general rule.

2. Of necessity, not being a philosopher, I will say nothing that is original. Or to put it in other words, the only originality I can claim is in my mistakes.

In 2, originality is used in the paltry sense of new or novel; but there is a deeper sense to it, related to the root word origin. To recognize it, it is probably best to step into the world of the arts, literature in particular. The greatness of an author like T. S. Eliot or James Joyce (if these examples offend your tastes, replace them by your own as similar remarks apply) lies in part in the fact that their genius has opened up a clearing in our common cultural heritage, where their voices rise and add up to the chorus (or cacophony: choose your preferred metaphor) of the voices of the Great and Magnificent Dead. There can be no understanding of Joyce, understanding in the deeper senses of literary criticism, without locating him within the total order of literature and clarifying his relationship with his predecessors, Shakespeare and Homer above all.

When we read Joyce in its strongest, say in the final pages of Finnegans Wake, we feel that a limit has been reached and that words have been found to express the hitherto inexpressible, what was always there since the origin, what is definitive of our nature of human beings qua human beings but that would not, and could not have been recognized unless it was first illumined to us. These illuminations then become the guiding lights in the inner theater of our imaginings. Something like this sense of continuity is lost in philosophy with the advent of the Cartesian revolution (and the Hobbesian revolution, and the Baconian revolution, and etc.) where the ties with Plato, Aristotle and their progeny, the Scholastics, were severed. The curt dismissal of a whole tradition without even dignifying to offer a semblance of criticism is not exactly the type of cultural continuity I am thinking of. In cycle after cycle, modern philosophers will raze to the ground the hard won wisdom of the past and build upon the ashes of their forefathers their own metaphysical edifices. But to borrow Kierkegaard’s charge against Hegel, peppered with some rhetorical flavor, no one, including their builders, wants to live in them because the darned things are so damn ugly[8].

The same Kierkegaard, no friend of Aquinas and co., in an intense little book called Repetition, proposes this term to replace the Platonic term of anamnesis or recollection. For Plato we have always known, but upon the shock of being dropped on the bucket of the world we have forgotten, and the travail of Wisdom is to recollect and reawaken what is origin-al within ourselves. Or as Francis Bacon puts it at the beginning of Essay LVIII Of Vicissitude of Things, in his very distinctive diction:

Solomon saith, “There is no new thing upon the earth”. So that as Plato had an imagination, “That all knowledge was but remembrance”; so Solomon giveth his sentence, “That all novelty is but oblivion”.

Kierkegaard means by repetition, not the stale, desiccated reiteration of old formulas, but a re-creation in the Apocalyptic terms of “Behold, I make all things new”. So the third corollary is a plea, and here I am following Feser again, for a renewed look upon the metaphysical tradition of the Scholastics. Not a return to some fabled Golden Age, that never existed anyway[9], but a development and elaboration upon the sound, realist metaphysics and philosophy of nature developed by those men and concomitantly, a gentle nudge to the reader, if any there be, to go search in more appropriate places for a more exhaustive explanation of the issues involved.

I will take as my fourth and last corollary, a warning and a dire one indeed. As the reader may have already observed, I am given, among other sins, to ramblings, digressions[10], asides, footnotes, parenthetical remarks, heavy doses of pedantry and (salutary) exaggerations. Add on top of this the fact that the series will drag itself through four more installments, and you may want to reserve your comments to future posts. Anyway, as the typical villain in a comic book would have it, “I am invincible!” (clenched fists, maniacal laughter), so feel free to Snipe, Snide and Snark; I may even respond in kind. Unless that is, someone bores me to death. Literally.



[1] This is not to deny that many developments in mathematics have indeed occurred in answer to problems posed by other disciplines, most notably physics. But the fact that such developments did come about that way, does not entail that they necessarily had to come about that way, this latter claim being patently absurd as even the most incipient knowledge of modern mathematics (starting about the beginning of the 19th century with the efforts to give calculus a firm and rigorous foundation) shows.

[2] H. Putnam, M. Resnik, etc. have advanced slightly different versions of the indispensability argument. See The Indispensability Argument in the Philosophy of Mathematics for more information.

[3] And then again, the modern strategy to defuse indispensability arguments, appropriately called dispensability arguments, involves rewriting the physical theories to avoid the quantification over mathematical objects. But such rewriting, even when successful, appeals to second-order logic or mereological axioms which are even more controversial and problematic. As Quine quipped, higher order logic is set theory in sheep’s clothing, so it is legitimate to wonder how successful the strategy is given that you avoid reference to mathematical objects (e.g. sets) only by introducing them surreptitiously and by the back door, suitably redressed. Once again I refer the reader to The Indispensability Argument in the Philosophy of Mathematics for more information and references.

[4] I will have occasion to return to this point later on.

[5] The reason why I will not be defending mathematical realism per se is in short, and to quote my lifelong intellectual hero Dr. Johnson, “Ignorance, madam, pure ignorance”. If I were a Platonist realist, I would have available a straightforward account of all of mathematics, but since I reject Platonism for reasons I will not delve into, this move is not available to me. I could still take the neo-Platonist route, which is indeed available, of saying that mathematical objects pre-exist in the mind of God from all eternity, but favoring an Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics something more is needed than this simple, stopgap answer. Mathematics is a fascinating and bizarre realm, in more than one sense, and as far as I know, Thomists have not written much about it, and what there is, it is hard to digest — at the level of PhD thesis 700 pages thick, couched in impenetrable jargon.

[6] Further bibliographical references will be scattered throughout the posts for those interested in pursuing these matters.

[7] This is war; the air is burning, shrapnel will be flying everywhere. Better get down on the floor.

[8] Recommended reading: Mortimer Adler, Ten philosophical mistakes.

[9] Such Golden Age proclamations usually betray a singular lack of historical sense.

[10] Here I confess I was really tempted to quote at length the endless ironies of J. Swift’s “A digression in praise of digressions. Just go read it.

Caring Is Killing Us: What’s Wrong With Benevolence by David Stove

This review ran last August, but because of pressures of work and the relevance this important book has to our upcoming elections, it’s time for another look. Regular posts resume soon.

What’s Wrong With Benevolence: Happiness, Private Property, and the Limits of Enlightenment by David Stove

Edited by Andrew Irvine
Forward by Roger Kimball

Half the harm that is done in the world
Is due to people who want to feel important.
They don’t mean to do harm—but the harm does not interest them.
Or they do not see it, or they justify it
Because they are absorbed in the endless struggle
To think well of themselves. ——T.S. Eliot (The Cocktail Party)


This will not be a book your progressive friend will buy for himself. Thus in the true spirit of benevolence, you must buy it for him and, as an additional service to humanity, circle all the naughty bits so that they are easier to find. And there are plenty of them. Your progressive friend may think this is the smuttiest book since Reflections on the Revolution in France.

Benevolence is a virtue, one that has been riding at the top of the progressive charts since the eighteenth century. The idea that all that matters is the “greatest happiness of the greatest number” triumphed

partly by the elimination of rival candidates. It laughed or shamed almost every other virtue out of court. The “monkish virtues,” as it called such things as humility, chastity, and obedience, were the principal victims. But the military virtues (such as courage), the feudal virtues (such as loyalty), the patriarchal virtues, the feminine virtues, and others all suffered the same fate.

Benevolence is the attitude of deep caring and smug self-satisfaction that allowed, for one example from a near infinite number, marketer Kenneth Cole to issue the advertisement “What’s wrong with shoeing the homeless?” and think it a rhetorical question.

What’s wrong with it is that if you give “relief” to those that are poor, by programmatically and coercively taking from those that are not, and thus also creating an administration to store and allocate these confiscations, you do one (temporary) benevolent thing, but at least three harmful things.

The benevolent thing is easily seen: the poor person who receives the shoes, bread, house, video games, car, shopping cart, clean needles, etc., etc. is obviously immediately better off than before he had these things. It is that immediate and visible change of circumstance with which the benevoloent credit themselves and which fills them with pride and self congratulation.

But the harm that is caused, which as Eliot says the benevolent do not see or in which they are not interested, is far greater. First, it encourages those that are not poor to think that they needn’t work as hard as they otherwise would, because they have a “safety net” waiting to catch them. Those that are receiving “relief” are scarcely have the impetus to better themselves. “Widespread poverty cannot be relieved from the outside and, therefore, can relieved (if at all) only by industry, self-reliance, and prudence of the poor themselves.”

Of course, it is sickening to modern ears, in fact absolutely intolerable, to hear talk of “industry,” “improvidence,” “idleness,” or the like. In 1989, not one person in fifty can hear such words without shame and indignation.

Second, the money that is taken from those that earned it are worse off (but, we are told, they can “afford it”). Except that the money that was theirs is now in the hands of the government and not allowed to circulate in the hands of citizens. This always and necessarily contributes to economic stagnation.

And not all the “rich” are rich. The taxes taken from those who are just above poor (but not officially poor) necessarily make these marginal people poorer (by taking money from them and from reducing the amount that could have been given to them by the richer job creators), and thus they are likely to become officially poor, which a good many of them do. These new people added to the welfare rolls were caused to be put there by benevolence. And there many of them will stay. The “gap” between the rich and poor necessarily increases under the welfare state (these are not necessarily the same people as under the welfare state). These are outcomes which “could easily have been predicted in advance by anyone who possessed elementary knowledge of human nature, and who was not blinded by benevolence.”

This negative feedback was first identified by Thomas Malthus in his argument against the Poor Laws, a form of official government benevolence not unlike our current welfare policy and corporate “bailouts.” Malthus insisted that the fraction of the populace on the poor roles must increase and that the taxes paid by those not yet there must also increase. All this came to pass, exactly as predicted. But even though it was perfectly obvious that it must happen, it mystified the benevolent, who sought (and still seek) to pin the blame everywhere but on themselves. For them, it is axiomatic to them that possessing a love for humanity (but rarely individual humans) could not cause harm.

Which brings us to the third consequence of benevolence: an increase in government, coercion, control, mindless bureaucracy. Which, we now know, when unchecked leads to death camps, broken families and loneliness, mass starvations, gulags, coercion, firing squads, and glowing reports in the New York Times. Community or equality of property is ever promised to lead a betterment of mankind, but which in fact always leads to a worsen-ment of actual people.


Given that, in democracies, people tend to elect those who promise them the most, and given the experience of government growth in Europe and the United States, we can ask how likely is it that terror governments like those that arose in China and Russia will occur in the West.

Francis Fukuyama famously predicted that we are at the “End of History”, in the sense that all Enlightened people agree that liberal democracy is the last word in governance, that no superior system exists or can exist. But how can that belief be reconciled with the observation that the West is sliding towards “enforced” (a redundant term) socialism? Why are our intellectuals not frightened by this?

All of us Enlightened (or so near to all of us as to make no difference) still share the Enlightenment’s estimate of benevolence as the highest virtue. We are all enthusiasts for the relief of poverty and the equalization of wealth. We are all still, on balance, enemies of the bourgeois family. In addition, we all know that the communists, at bottom, are impelled by benevolence, and are even firmer friends to equality of wealth than we are, and firmer enemies of the bourgeois family. How, then, could communism not be an object of indestructible goodwill among us Enlightened?

Yet the Chinese willingly gave up a fraction of power when they allowed ordinary citizens to run their own businesses. All within narrowly proscribed limits, of course, and limits which are sometimes tightened and sometimes loosened in a whimsical fashion. But it remains true that some power was ceded.

The Soviet Union collapsed, Vietnam saw the light of freedom, and the feeling in Cuba is that once old man Castro dies “change we can believe in” will finally occur.

Stove sees these as “wobbles” in the inexorable course towards totalitarianism. The Soviet Union did collapse, but because it was exhausted in its battle with countries that were still free and not because the nomenklatura saw the folly of benevolence. So what happens when the enemies of totalitarianism cease to be enemies and embrace it? Stove says, “I do not think the welfare state will be dismantled, and still less that communism will be. Indeed, I think that both communism and the welfare state will continue to grow.”

Further, the welfare governments of the West

are elected by universal adult franchise; but an electorally decisive proportion of the voters—in some countries, approaching a quarter—either is employed by government or is dependent to a significant extent on some welfare program. In these circumstances it is merely childish to expect the welfare state to be reduced, at least while there is universal suffrage. A government that did away with free education, for example, or socialized medicine simply could not be re-elected. Indeed, it would be lucky to see out its term of office.

The only things holding up back from falling over the cliff immediately are two things: innovation, which must slow the more control government assumes, and birth control (abortion and contraceptives), which slows the growth of number of the poor. But only to a point: many of those unborn would have contributed to innovation and to the taxes which pay for the services to the elderly. A demographic crunch point is coming to countries like Italy, Japan, Ireland, and the remaining PIGS where there will be too many people to be taken care of and not enough people to do the caring.

What should we, the non-benevolent, do? Stove recounts finally the story of a solitary Indian in a canoe fishing miles upstream from Niagra Falls.

Despite all his local knowledge, he makes some slight misjudgment of time, or wind, or water, and finds himself surprised by the current. For hours he puts forth all his strength in trying to reach the shore, but long before the fatal event itself, he passes a point at which his diminishing strength, and the increasing strength of the current, make further resistance vain. He then ships his paddle, lights his pipe, and folds his arms.

In the circumstances, those are the actions of a rational man. Similarly, in my opinion, the world-current of Enlightenment benevolence is now so strong, and we have been launched upon it for so many years, that we passed the point of no return a long time ago, and will, if we are rational, emulate the Indian in the story.

Stove was an old man when he wrote that, while your author is (relatively) young. So I say fight the current.


Stove did not finish this essay before his death. Readers familiar with his other work will notice the lack of polish, and even a few rough spots in his argument, flaws which Stove never allowed. If this review convinces you to buy and read the book, consider that real treasure awaits you in Stove’s other writings. I cannot recommend strongly enough that any scholar of statistics, probability, and philosophy of science should buy immediately The Rationality of Induction (the second half of that book is about probability and logic). General readers will want to grab at least On Enlightenment and Against the Idols of the Age (edited by Kimball); both are collections of essays.

Fully half the current book is taken up by an extensive bibliography of Stove’s writing. What a tremendous boon for Stove scholars! (I’m thrilled to have this.) But how off-putting to those who have never heard of the man. Let’s hope that Mr Kimball and Encounter Books consider bringing out Stove’s essay in a broadside, a format re-embraced by that company, after sales of the hardcover flag.

Read Stove while you are still allowed.

A Priest And A Reporter Walk Into A Bar — A Mini Play In One Act

PLAYERS: Father Quinn, in uniform. A Bartender, Murphy, in uniform. A reporter, Bradford, looking hip. Other patrons may be added as set dressing, but who are not necessary.

SCENE: A bar in midtown Gotham. A bartender hovers while a priest sits sipping the water of life. A reporter from the newspaper of eminence walks in. The reporter recognizes the priest.

Bartender Murphy Runnin’ low there, Father? Let’s top ‘er off.

Father Quinn I think, no, Mr Murphy, sir, no. I’ve overstayed my welcome I believe.

Murphy continues to pour.

Quinn Perhaps just a small one. Evening mass is still many minutes distant.

Murphy On the house.

Quinn God bless you. I—

Bradford (sidling up; talking over Quinn) It’s Father Quinn, isn’t it? I’m sure it is. Jim Bradford. Reporter from the paper? We met when I covered that, uh, unfortunate…business.

Quinn (shaking hands) Ah, Mr Bradform, yes. Of course I remember.

Bradford I thought I’d recognized you. And it’s Bradford, sir.

Quinn So you recognized me. My mother always did say I had the face of angel. Bradford, did you say? Yes, I remember you well. What was that you wrote? “This scandal surely spells the doom of the Catholic church”?

Bradford Well, uh, yes. Something like that.

Quinn In a hurry, are you? Sit down, Mr Bradford. Have a stool.

Bradford (sitting, glancing at his watch) I was to meet someone here for an interview. But he didn’t show.

Quinn Mr Murphy, sir. Three swallows for the gentleman.

Murphy splashes out a generous measure.

Bradford And what brings you here, Father?

Quinn I was commiserating with a brother brother, in a manner of speaking. The minister of St. Mundus’s Episcopal church, may she rest is pieces.

Bradford St. Mundus? Over on 44th? Didn’t I read that they’d turned it into a suite of apartments?

Quinn And so they will. With no possibility of a reprieve. No. This was their last week. After this, they are no more.

Bradford Well—no surprise. No, uh, disrespect, father. You know what I mean.

Quinn As to the fact of the matter, Mr Bradford, I do not know what you mean.

Bradford Hadn’t they lost all their parishioners? It’s not exactly a rare complaint these days, is it? Not cheap to keep a building like that going when no one’s putting envelopes in the Sunday baskets.

Quinn Ah, but it’s why the seats go empty. They needn’t have done.

Bradford Well, Father, no disrespect. But it’s happening all over. I mean, this is just one more example of many. If this trend continues every church will be turned into a boutique or apartment. I’ll tell you, though: I agree that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Quinn Is that so? And what suggestions have you for us?

Bradford It’s not my place, really.

Quinn Your shyness does not become you, sir. Come, we are all men here—are we not Mr Murphy?

Murphy I wouldn’t know, Father. My wife doesn’t let me talk about those things in public.

Murphy tips out more for Bradford; Quinn blocks his glass with his hand.

Bradford If you wouldn’t be so resistant to change. Take women priests.

Quinn Don’t tempt me with obvious retorts, sir. They aren’t becoming in a man of the cloth.

Bradford And it isn’t just your stance toward choice, which I grant you is a difficult position to overcome. But you don’t have to change it, you see. It’s more a matter of understanding that your own members don’t—and won’t; that’s the key—share the views of hierarchy. You can’t turn back the clock by holding onto the past. Not only choice, but even something as basic as contraception. Everybody uses it, yet you try to ban it.

Quinn Now we are getting somewhere. Let’s don’t stop here; let’s have it all.

Bradford No disrespect, of course.

Quinn Heaven forfend!

Bradford Well, I don’t think you see the contradiction in your stance toward marriage rights. You can’t be for social justice and against equality. People have the right to marry whomever they wish. It’s the same thing with openly gay and lesbian priests. If only you’d—

Quinn —And isn’t that how we first met?

Bradford What’s that?

Quinn Never you mind. Mr Murphy!

Murphy does his deed.

Bradford Sexuality in general is problematic. We have learned so much these last fifty years. We can’t go back to the way it was. I mean we, the public. But not the Church. They speak of sexual matters like ill-informed school boys. That’s what comes of a celibate priesthood! Um…no disrespect intended.

Quinn Of course not.

Bradford And this is all on top of your official stance towards science. Anti-science. It just isn’t on, you see. Science already answers the big questions. Dogmatism is of no use in explaining the big band. Big bag, I mean. Bang! Evolution describes the human condition. People won’t tolerate talk of miracles in the Twenty-First Century. Loaves and fishing, indeed.

Murphy eyes Bradford suspiciously, considers, then pours again, but only a half measure.

Quinn The count is up to twenty-one, is it?

Bradford What’s that?

Quinn Skip it. Time for a recapitulation. You think that if the Church were to ordain women priests, allow male priests to marry, embrace homosexuality and bless anybody who wants to marry, that we’d be more attractive?

Bradford Well, yes.

Quinn That if we’d loosen up and cease lecturing people about sleeping with whomever they would, give the nod to contraception since we can’t stop them anyway, and admit that abortion is sometimes superior to the burden of having a child, then people would look upon us with a kinder eye?

Bradford Something like that, yes.

Quinn And if we’d concentrate on social justice—see to it that everybody had a free cellphone and the like—instead of harping on miracles, sin, and eternity, that we might even see a glowing article on How The Church Has Grown appear in your paper?

Bradford Father, this is it. You would appeal to a much broader audience, one who would find your message acceptable.

Quinn Then what would be left of the Church? Except for the candles, how could anybody tell us apart from, to pick an example, your favorite political party?

Bradford Well, some people still find ritual—

Quinn —But we don’t have to guess, do we? No, sir. For all these changes you advocate, and more; all have been tried, each has been embraced, and warmly. The experiment has already been run.

Bradford And where’s that, Father?

Quinn Why, at St. Mundus’s, of course.

Bradford (rising) I need to find the men’s room.

Murphy (stepping over, invoking the cliché of polishing a glass) Who is that guy, Father?

Quinn I fear, Mr Murphy, that he is our future. If we aren’t careful.


Debate Thread: “Where Was This Romney Before?” Always There

Al Sharpton reacts to last night’s debate

Chris Matthews looked as though he saw the men with the nets coming for him, the tingles evidently having traveled from his leg and lodging in his frontal cortex. An astonished Bill Maher tweeted that, gee, this Obama fellow appears to need a teleprompter to speak coherently.

On MSNBC, Al Sharpton’s noggin resembled Thunder, the third Fury, who at the end of Big Trouble in Little China just realized his master Lo Pan lay dead. Rachel Maddow could do no better than echo the fans of the team that just lost the World Series, when she said Mr Obama should have won because he is the better man.

Mr Obama himself was reduced to pulling out a preprepared joke on Donald Trump—-Donald Trump!, for all love—a quip so bad that it landed with a squish and which everybody immediately pretended never happened.

Yes, overall it went well for the forces of Good.

But here’s the curious thing. This morning we hear voices aplenty saying, “Where was this Romney hiding?”, “Who is this guy?”, “Why hasn’t he acted like this before?” and the like.

My dears, the Romney of last night was the Romney of last week, and of last week, and the Romney we will have next debate. So why the widespread misperception? The only change was last night we saw him without his ever-present media filter.

Strike that: no. Without most of his media filter.

Did you, like everybody else, feel that Romney ran away with the microphone and dominated the airtime? That he went way over his alloted time? Not so. In fact, Mr Obama held the floor four to six more minutes than Romney, a substantial margin. How could this be?

Jim Lehrer did his best to interrupt Romney several times, pestering him with small questions, an act he tried only once with Obama.

In this debate, the mainstream media was forced to watch from the sidelines, and silently, too—although from watching Twitter you formed the idea that one of them was going to be like that guy in the crowd who saw an opposing player running unimpeded for a touchdown and who burst forth onto the field to tackle the ball carrier.

We weren’t bothered by Lehrer’s standard technique because he was one lone man, and a feeble one, too. If this debate would have been structured so that a panel of media sat in magisterial judgment (their usual pose), they would have peppered Romney with questions like, “Why is Mr Obama the best president we’ve ever had?” and then cut him off before he could finish a sentence.

This was the real Romney. This is the man the public were finally allowed to see. What will be the effect?

Update More proof of the conjecture: journalists of the left are pummeling Lehrer for not “controlling” the debate better, i.e. shutting Romney down and bolstering Obama.

Update Corrected time spent by Obama talking; there are various estimates. All say Obama had more minutes.


Also see this.

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