No More Secrets. No More Excuses. No More Limits.

And no more Loompanics Unlimited, alas. 

I suppose it was inevitable that Loompanics would shut down their operations sooner or later, what with Amazon cornering so much of the book market, and what with this new-fangled "inter-net" thing providing light-speed access to the kind of  semi-clandestine information which once proved so hard to get your hands on.  Loompanics belongs to the era of C.O.D. mail order and celluloid pornography.  A time when you could order spider monkeys by post, and no one even considered buckling their seat-belts.

But the news has me buzzing with bittersweet nostalgia just the same.   

I was a lazily rebellious high school kid, burdened with bad grades, bad acne, and poor prospects all around, when a friend loaned me a smudged up, dog-eared copy of "The Best Book Catalog in the World."

Loompanics?  This looks cool — where’d you get it?

Ordered it from an ad in Soldier of Fortune.  

Jesus fuck, man.  They’ve got a book on how to break into a nuclear power plant.  That’s fucked up.  Can I borrow this?

Sure.

I can’t remember if it was the 1986 or 1987 edition. I remember there was an interview with Bob Black, whose Abolition of Work monograph must have just come out, and they were still carrying that Gerry Reith book, and that creepy Paedophilia text by Tom O’Carroll.  Oh yeah, and there were those situationist-ish broadsides from some outfit called Anti-Authoritarians Anonymous. Or something like that. 

I’m guessing it was 1987.

Honestly, I’m almost embarrassed to admit what a fucking revelation it was.  I spent hours poring over those newsprint pages, bookmarking the priority purchases and keeping tabs on the stuff that could wait. While my friend stocked up on Kurt Saxon’s "recipe" books and other pre-Columbine manuals of mayhem, I found myself gravitating toward the cerebral tethers nearer the back of the catalog — the sections on "Heresy" and "Reality Creation" and "Anarchism and Egoism." It’s fair to say that Loompanics introduced me to the usual counter-cultural icons and signposts; there was Principia Discordia, and Semiotext[e] USA, and The Book of the SubGenius, and Apocalypse Culture, and there were those flaky art-world journals put out that weird couple in San Francisco. 

Sentimental nerd that I am, I still have them all.  Want to borrow anything?  Sorry — I have a policy.

It was also through Loompanics that I got my first unadulterated taste of full-on radical libertarianism.  Somewhere in between the mirth and subversion, I ordered Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lesson, and Morris and Linda Tannehill’s The Market for Liberty. Then it was on to one of Murray Rothbard’s polemics — I forget which. But the one that really snared my synapses was Defending the Undefendable, by Walter Block.   I didn’t take Block’s logic all the way down (nobody does), but there was something about the rigorous and clearheaded consistency with which he dispatched the "hard cases" that jolted my polarities for the long haul. For a taste of what I mean, check out Block’s classic defense of blackmail here.

But it may have been the catalog’s hyperbolic introduction that struck the first and deepest chord. "We know where we belong," it announced:

we are the lunatic fringe of the libertarian movement.  We don’t believe in laws, rules or regulations.  We have contempt for censorship, secrecy and dogmatism.  We don’t give a damn about being "respectable," or Politically Correct. We don’t care about anything except having fun and your right to find out anything you want to know. Nothing is sacred to us, except skepticism and self-reliance.

And that was enough.  That was my politics.

Even as I’ve mellowed over the years, I still love the existential gambit inherent in those heavy-handed pronouncements — the bold insistence to brook no authority; that freedom matters more than safety or prosperity or whateverthefuck they want to prop up in trade.  I know it’s hopeless.  But life, as I’ve said before and will say again, is too fucking short.  Even a shut-in can dream.   

They say "It Usually Begins with Ayn Rand," but the catalyst for my "libertarian odyssey" was the Loompanics catalog.   It will be missed.

As Mike Hoy would say, Happy book hunting, and good reading!

You, Me, and The Bell Curve – Part One: (Un)Fairness and (In)Accuracy

The
modern mindset: Everyone of above-average intelligence knows that
everyone is equal.

                                                           —
Steve Sailer

I don’t think it’s a matter of growing jaded.

What happens
is, you begin with the usual well-intended prejudices. You assume it’s all
been settled. You assume that our best minds have done the yeoman’s work – that,
as the late Stephen Jay Gould famously insisted, “Human Equality Is a
Contingent Fact of History
.”

But then something in your reading or casual observation –
maybe it’s those damn twin
studies
, or your neighbor’s adopted kid who never really fit the family
mold – prompts you to wonder if the skeptic’s knife might cut in the opposite
direction. So, with inexpert caution, you begin to wade past the political
static, carefully navigating your way through the myriad contentious
issues at the nexus where politics meets the life sciences, until you
hit upon something closer to a real consensus, where acrimony gives
way to unashamed fascination and politically vested agendas no
longer predefine the tenor and content of the debate.   

It turns out that "chitling
test
" you took in Psych 101 never really counted for much
beyond trendy educationist rhetoric. And for all the
effusive praise and honoraria heaped upon Professor Gould, you
gradually come to realize that avuncular old doyenne
of the reining intelligentsia was serving up a market-ready
pastiche of obscurantist deck-shifting sophistry that was never taken
too seriously
by the relevant experts to
begin with.   

At some point, perhaps you stumble across Gene Expression, where matters of potentially
explosive socio-genetic import are discussed as a matter of course. Or
maybe you catch up on Steve Sailer’s disarmingly
breezy riffs
on human biodiversity. Or,
if you’re a much smarter bird than I, you acquaint yourself with the work of
true giants in the relevant disciplines — men like Charles Spearman, Hans Eysenck, Raymond Cattell, William Hamilton,
John Maynard Smith
– and yes, Arthur
Jensen
, who, contrary to everything you thought you knew, was never
discredited
. Not even close. 

And before you know it, damn if you haven’t forgotten what
all the fuss was about.

Thus I was naively surprised by the minor row that
ensued when I suggested to a friend that The
Bell Curve
might not be so easily dismissed.  The regrettable
tooth-gnashing played out on a community
blog where I once scribbled among friends. In answer to my ostensible gaffe, my
disappointed compatriot – an intelligent and very decent chap – assured me that were I only to read a 1995 report put out by something
called Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting, I might yet come to understand the
skein of scurrilous pseudoscience that seduced me to embrace such an
undignified point of view.

So I took one look at it, saw it for the misinformed
hatchet job it was, and moved on. 

In retrospect, I suppose I might have handled things differently. After
all, my friend’s rancor did serve to remind me of the intense scientific and
ideological static that still simmers around The Bell Curve, making it such an explosive watchword more than ten
years after its initial publication. Few books achieve such remarkable
notoriety, for the simple reason that few books strike at so many guarded
shibboleths in the liberal humanist imagination – particularly where the
subject of race is concerned. 

My sense is that most thinking people harbor the same
vaguely informed suspicions. If we reflexively censor our thoughts among
friends and colleagues, it isn’t so much for fear of reprimand as it is that we
are uncertain of where the discussion may lead. I believe the anxiety and misapprehension is
understandable but ultimately unwarranted. In an effort to articulate my considered
perspective on the affair writ large and small, I have drafted this rather long series of posts. It may have started out as an attempt to provide a more thoroughgoing reply to my disillusioned pal, but as I studied
on the issues in the cross-hairs, I began to see what an otiose and
self-serving gesture that would have been. We have to figure this shit out for
ourselves. Or not. Life is short.  

Before diving in, however, I want to be clear on a couple of
points. First and emphatically, I do not
profess any expertise in the matters under discussion. I don’t have an academic
background, and loath as I am to admit it, I probably couldn’t slog through the
psychometric math at the core of these issues if my cats’ lives depended on it.
In lieu of scholarly exposition, I shall merely attempt to provide an honest account
of state of the debate as it has developed among people who really do know what
they’re talking about. Leaving the hard work to the pros who know how to apply
the analytic tools that remain beyond my ken, I strive only to delineate a
responsible perspective and avoid the bullshit on all sides. In this effort, I am
guided by my abiding respect for science and skepticism and the ideal objective
truth. Needless to add, readers are encouraged to explore the source material
and decide for themselves who’s being disingenuous. 

The second point is that this is not an essay about The Bell Curve as such. The
Bell Curve
is a deceptively dense book teeming with big ideas about social
stratification and human destiny, and the arguments it presents digress in many
fascinating directions
(though seldom in the directions assumed by critics). As much as I might enjoy waxing over the
tethers, our present exploration is more concerned with the penumbral buzz that
has followed from the book’s caricature-driven reputation. Of necessity and
without apology, this means focusing at some length on the dirty parts. About
race, intelligence, and genetics.  

We shall kick things off with due consideration of the dated
FAIR report to which I was referred. For all its blustery fallaciousness, Jim Naureckas’s "Racism Resurgent" provides an
interesting time-frozen vantage through which to evaluate the controversy as it
has evolved over the past decade. But that will only get us so far. 

Not FAIR 

By the time it began inching up the bestseller list in 1994,
the public furor over The Bell Curve was already boiling on full. You’d have to
go back to Darwin’s Origin of Species or Kinsey’s bombshell
sex studies to find a big academic tome that ignited such seismic swells of public
controversy. Critics were everywhere, and  I couldn’t get enough of it. I remember reading everything I could get my
hands on, from the most vitriolic jeremiads, to the occasional fair-minded commentary.
I read The Bell Curve Debate and Inequality by Design and I took seriously
Nobel Laureate James Heckman’s ambitious – if ultimately unfruitfulreanalysis of the primary data. The way I
figure it, dialectical fisticuffs is par for the course in these affairs – the spectator sport
of an open society.

But even with the benefit of contextual hindsight, it is hard
to size up Jim Naureckas’s FAIR report as anything deeper than an ideologically
motivated screed. Typical
of low-rung Bell Curve bashing,
“Racism Resurgent” evinces little interest in the broader social arguments
developed in the book’s pages. Instead, it dwells predictably on race, and more
specifically on the black-white IQ gap, subjects which, it bears repeating, are
substantially addressed in only two chapters of the 800 page treatise. Which
would be fair enough, except that instead of seriously engaging the arguments
and empirical evidence at the foundation of The
Bell
Curve’s discussion of group
differences in cognitive traits, Naureckas plays at the familiar dead-end game
of chasing imaginary dragons, i.e. “racist” scholars, and putting up clever smokescreens, i.e. appeals to discredited authority,
to deny established facts. 

Still, the FAIR report is one of the primary articles to
which the Wikipedia entry on The Bell
Curve
links, so it’s likely a lot of newcomers to the controversy will take
it as an evenhanded debunking. If for no
other reason, then, it deserves a thoughtful response. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t take a cognitive elitist to see
where FAIR goes wrong. 

True to his media-watchdog credentials, Naureckas kicks off his attempted deconstruction with a reference to The New Republic’s 1994 cover story on The Bell Curve, which largely set the
tone for the public debate that would follow. Right off the bat, Andrew
Sullivan
(then-editor-in-chief of TNR) is called to task for defending his
editorial decision by writing that “[t]he notion that there might be resilient
ethnic differences in intelligence is not, we believe, an inherently racist
belief.” In a telling effort to stop the festivities before they begin, Naureckas
cries foul: “In fact,” he informs us, “the idea that some races are inherently
inferior to others is the definition of racism.”

What The New Republic was
saying–along with other media outlets that prominently and respectfully
considered the thesis of Charles Murray and the late Richard Herrnstein’s
book  – is that racism is a respectable intellectual position, and has a
legitimate place in the national debate on race.

Setting aside the question of whether “racism” thus defined
retains any pejorative distinction worth discussing, it is interesting to note
that Naureckas’s chastising volley doesn’t even jibe with the words he cites;
there is nothing necessarily “inherent” about “resilient ethnic differences.”  Such differences might result from cultural,
environmental, or genetic forces, or from some confluence of the same. Indeed, The Bell Curve is resolutely agnostic on
the question of whether genetic factors contribute to observed racial
differences in IQ, a point nowhere acknowledged in Naureckas’s essay.

By
imposing his presumptive interpretation on Sullivan’s more cautiously parsed
proposition, Naureckas gets to jump to the “gotcha” at the core of his critique
– specifically that the handful of media outlets that deigned to take The Bell Curve’s thesis seriously were tacitly endorsing the view that
“racism is a respectable intellectual position.” That’s neither fair nor accurate. 

Contrary to Naureckas’s broad implication, the initial
discussion of The Bell Curve in major
media outlets was far from sympathetic. Indeed, the issue of  The New Republic to which such
disapproving reference is made was remarkable not so much in that it provided a
veneer of legitimacy to the long suppressed IQ debate, but for how dramatically
its published commentary was weighted against Murray and Herrnstein’s thesis. Of
the 17 contributors enlisted to provide perspective on the big bad book,
virtually all were, to varying degrees, highly critical – even vituperative –
in their treatment of its imputed content. And let’s not forget that when Sullivan first proposed to publish Murray and Herrnstein’s précis, the entire TNR staff threatened to walk out in
protest.

Most of the public discussion cited by Naureckas was framed in
similarly negative to hostile fashion. And far from being a “near rave,” Malcolm
Browne’s review in the New York Times was distinguished only in that it grappled
with the book’s actual content rather than some conveniently warped distortion. But Browne’s review – as well as David
Brooks’ thoughtful commentary in the Wall Street Journal – stood in sharp
contradistinction to the onslaught of misinformed animadversion that typified the
public reaction to The Bell Curve. 

For Naureckas, however, it seems the only legitimate media
response would have been uniform condemnation, or perhaps a full-on blackout. After all, this is racism. End of discussion. 

Who’s Afraid of  The
Pioneer Fund?

Naureckas seems especially piqued by the assertion – true
then and true today – that the scholarship underlying The Bell Curve’s
discussion of ethnic differences in cognitive ability is scientifically
uncontroversial. Far from being moderate or responsible, Naureckas assures us,
the research upon which The Bell Curve
proceeds is a rank and racist stew of pseudoscience, unworthy of serious
academic attention. To bolster his
contention, Naureckas falsely informs readers that “[n]early all the research
that Murray and Herrnstein relied on for their central claims about race and
IQ” was supported by The Pioneer Fund, an organization with tangential links to eugenics
and racialist ideology. 

Confident he’s latched on to a show-stopper, Naureckas
attempts to snow readers with a detailed account of The Pioneer Fund’s unseemly
history. He cites sources characterizing
the fund as a neo-Nazi organization and trots out a hair-raising medley of
racist utterances attributed to persons directly and indirectly associated
therewith. The idea seems to be that if you pile on with enough sensibility-jarring
noise, fair-minded readers just might assume it’s infra-dig to study any
further. It’s a familiar tactic. Magicians call it misdirection. Logicians call it argumentum ad hominem. I
call it a nice try. 

Naureckas reserves a special animus for three “racist” scholars
whose work he believes to be beyond the pale of permissible discourse. The ashen
rogues in his lurid narrative are Richard Lynn of the University of Ulster, J. Philippe Rushton of
the University of Western
  Ontario, and Berkeley’s
perennially vilified Arthur Jensen. It
is true that all three have been recipients of Pioneer grants. But before you go scurrying for higher ground, it must
be emphasized that these men remain highly respected scholars in their respective
fields, the bulk of their research having been published in refereed scientific
journals
where it has been fully vetted and subjected to the intense scrutiny
of peer review.

Naureckaus wants to
hustle the impression of unscrupulous cranks and pamphleteers plotting at the fringes
of academe. The reality was never so
dastardly or sensational. The names on
Naureckas’s blacklist are bona-fide scholars with solid credentials. Their interest
in taboo subjects is the sticking point. 

In examining the question of whether Murray and Herrnstein’s
scientific credibility is undermined by their peripheral association with dodgy
sources, one point needs to be set straight. Pace Naureckas, The Bell Curve’s discussion of race and IQ does not rely primarily on research underwritten by The Pioneer Fund. To
be sure, it wouldn’t matter if it did, but it simply isn’t true. In
claiming that “nearly all of the data” are tainted by Pioneer largess,
Naureckas seems to be relying on secondary accounts. (I imagine that Chuck  Lane’s widely cited smear job in the New York Review of Books was a big influence, but I’m only speculating.)

If you don’t believe me, just turn to the
infamous “chapter thirteen” and study on the citations, one by one. You will find references to a wide range of
secondary sources; you will find reference to official test data from
government sources; you will find meta-analytic surveys spanning the history of
modern psychometrics. It is trivially true that some of the meta-analyses were compiled by Pioneer grant recipients,
but so what. Out of more than 1000 sources cited in The Bell Curve, only thirteen have been identified
with The Pioneer Fund, and of those the important ones were indeed published in
respected academic forums.

But never mind all that, because far and away the largest
and most robust source of data to which Murray and Herrnstein cite on the whole
contentious issue is the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth (more
specifically, the Armed Forces Qualification Test data extracted therefrom), a nationally
representative databank consisting of test scores for over 6,502 white and
3,022 black subjects that has been described by none other than Stephen Jay
Gould (more on whom later) as “the best source of information” then available.
On the question of resilient ethnic differences in IQ, the AFQT data
unequivocally confirm the widely documented difference of approximately one
standard deviation (or roughly 15 points) in the distribution of IQ scores for
white and black test populations. If you’re skeptical, take a look for
yourself; the primary data are freely available online. 

Inexcusably, “Racism Resurgent” contains no reference whatever
to the NLSY data. 

Sift past the bluster, and you begin to see that the
ritual hand-wringing over “eugenics” and dreadful "Nazi"
linkages is filtered through the myopic lens of  distinctly modern sensibilities. In layering
on such high-minded sanctimony over the past sins of the Pioneer
Fund, Naureckaus might, for example, have paused to recall that no less a paragon
of progressive virtue than Margaret Sanger, the founder of
Planned Parenthood, was an active and outspoken participant in the
early twentieth century’s abandoned eugenics movement. 

Rather than being the hate-mongering miscreants of
Naureckaus’s  Nazi-distorted imaginings, the early “pioneers
of eugenics” were in reality drawn from a wide spectrum of political  persuasions.
Indeed, early proponents of eugenics included such prominent progressive era leftists as
George Bernard Shaw,  H.G. Wells, and even
the the feminist anarchist, Emma Goldman. Naureckaus
wants to conflate the entire movement with vulgar racist ideology, but when you consider
the facts with a modicum of historical context, the picaresque narrative of
the Pioneer Fund becomes less coherent.  If you’re not careful, you may begin to wonder
if there could be something to their side of the story after all. 

But even if we are to grant every lurid detail Naureckas
serves up without nuance or context or apology, it would ultimately make no
difference. Science
proceeds by conjecture, by trial, by experiment, and by the
slow accumulation of evidence, its aims and methods being eternally indifferent
to the proscribed bounds of morality or ideological fashion.  If
the laws of general relativity had been discovered by Adolf Hitler, the nuclear
age would not have waited. And no matter
how loudly critics condemn The Pioneer Fund or its purported alliances, scientific
research conducted under its auspice still must be evaluated on its own merit. This is how it works. Period. The rest is noise. 

Expert Consensus 

When he isn’t attempting to spook readers with the specter
of racist ghouls, Naureckas tries to assure us that the whole business about
group differences is largely an artifact of racially biased data mining. “[E]ven
the data collected by these racists does not show a consistent 15-point gap,”
he writes, “[t]he studies they present show a wide range of results, ranging
from no black/white IQ disparity at all to the absurd finding that most
African-Americans are severely retarded.” Naureckas goes on to
point out “that more recent tests have shown a narrower black/white difference,
ranging from seven to 10 points.”

Leaving the subject of pathological-range IQ for another day, I would point out that the question of whether the gap has narrowed is given due consideration
in The Bell Curve. But while there are perfectly legitimate controversies about racial trends
in IQ, a dispassionate review of the evidence does not come close to supporting
the egalitarian hope that the differences are artificial or in any significant
degree diminishing. If it’s all a wash,
the eugenicist machinations must run awfully deep, because even it we were to
take Naureckas’s lead in ignoring the NLSY data, the legitimacy of Murray and
Herrnstein’s factual claims was prominently endorsed by two academic consensus
reports that were published at the height of the public furor over The Bell Curve. 

The first, “Mainstream Science on Intelligence” was signed
by 52 recognized scholars in psychometrics and related disciplines and was
published in the December 13, 1994,
edition of the Wall Street Journal. On
the question of group differences, the report had this to say:

Members of all racial-ethnic groups can be found at every IQ level. The
bell curves of different groups overlap considerably, but groups often differ in
where their members tend to cluster along the IQ line. The bell curves for some
groups (Jews and East Asians) are centered somewhat higher than for whites in
general. Other groups (blacks and Hispanics) are centered somewhat lower than
non-Hispanic whites.

The bell curve for whites is centered roughly around IQ 100; the bell
curve for American blacks roughly around 85; and those for different subgroups
of Hispanics roughly midway between those for whites and blacks. The evidence is
less definitive for exactly where above IQ 100 the bell curves for Jews and
Asians are centered. 

Then, in August of 1995, responding to “the urgent need for
an authoritative report” on the science underlying the Bell Curve controversy, no
less an authority than the American Psychological Association enlisted an
expert task force to provide a more detailed summary of extant research on
intelligence. The APA report was entitled “Intelligence: Knowns and Unkowns,” and
although it was somewhat critical of Murray and Herrnstein, it nevertheless backed up The Bell Curve’s underlying factual claims about race and cognitive ability.

In
relevant part, the APA task force reported:

The relatively low mean of the
distribution of African-American intelligence test scores has been discussed
for many years. Although studies using different tests and samples yield a
range of results, the Black mean is typically about one standard deviation
(about 15 points) below that of Whites (Loehlin et al, 1975; Jensen, 1980;
Reynolds et al, 1987). The difference is largest on those tests (verbal or
non-verbal) that best represent the general intelligence factor g (Jensen,
1985). It is possible, however, that this differential is diminishing.   

The report went on to note that evidence does not support
the popular view that black-white differences result from “test bias” as
commonly understood, and weighed in with careful agnosticism on the genetic
hypothesis
: 

…the issue ultimately comes down to
a personal judgment: how different are the relevant life experiences of Whites
and Blacks in the United States today? At present, this question has no scientific answer.

Although Murray and Herrnstein assign more plausibility to
the theory that genes play a role in observed ethnic differences, the APA
findings are essentially consistent with the facts outlined in their treatment
of the available data. It is a peculiar
brand of “pseudoscience” that finds broad contemporaneous support among top
experts.

And even with all this on the table, Naureckas’s efforts
would be moot today. The most exhaustive meta-analytic review of available data
was reported by Philip L. Roth in the June, 2001, issue of Personnel
Psychology
. In that survey of 105
different studies covering 6,246,729 individuals, Roth’s team found an overall
average difference between whites and blacks of 16.5 IQ points — a 1.1
standard deviation. The results were posited with a 95 percent confidence
interval, meaning that the range 1.06 to 1.15  in standard deviation leaves little room for
explanatory error. 

Since his FAIR broadside was published in early 1995,
Naureckas can be partially forgiven for not taking the big picture into account, but
somehow I suspect it would have made little difference. If those racism detecting dogs were to apply
their finely tuned microscopes, I have no doubt they would discern some trace
evidence of Pioneer Fund “fingerprints” somewhere in the mix. But at this point
the cherry picking would be revealed for the sad joke it always was, akin to
creationists obsessing over some seemingly anomalous kinks in the fossil
record. 

If you thought the flying spaghetti monster was funny, why aren’t you laughing now?

Maybe it’s because your noblest intentions never mattered. Once you’ve tripped your way into a corner where the only
logical alternative to the null hypothesis is RACISM, the moral incentive
to invent a bigger conspiracy may be difficult to resist.  This is what
happens when ideology is placed before reality, when wish replaces
thought.

But like my mother used to say: wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which gets full.

The differences are real.
___________________________________________________________________

Be sure to check back for Part Two, in which The Hog surveys the impact of behavior genetics and considers the dubious legacy of everyone’s favorite egalitarian gadfly, Stephen Jay Gould.

Next Question, Please (An Introduction)

I’m a nervous guy. My
day job requires little in the way of human contact, but even the requisite
niceties leave me feeling depleted and antsy.   Catch
me on the street and my flee instinct will be tripped to the third alarm before
we can exchange platitudes and chat up the weather. I self-medicate with coffee and cheap American beer, but such fixes
only temper the edge. I generally avoid
confrontation and controversy. The last
thing I want to do is make someone uncomfortable. Because believe me, I know
the feeling. Leave a message and I’ll
return your call, thank you.

The Hoover Hog is
where I make the exception. I probably
should have worked out a better excuse by now, but that’s how it always breaks
down. If you’re looking for a cheap reduction, I suppose the best I can do is
to describe this here weblog as a record of the efforts of one socially inept dilettante
– and that would be me – to study on and glean some loose-knit meaning from the
contentious questions that invariably pique and preoccupy his ever-graying gray
matter. 

But while the festivities may hover around the inchoate fusion
of potentially incendiary subjects that good people instinctively know not to
broach in polite company, the thought-crime
thing
is really just a convenient hook – a post-hoc signpost custom-suited to
reflect the drifting peregrinations of a restive and reckless mind.  Some people slake their homunculi with drugs
or music or politics, but I find the prevailing social and academic taboos are
what serve to keep things interesting. 

I know what you’re thinking. And for what it’s worth, I have
nothing against cheap thrills or gawking curiosity. I’m
generally quick to wince, however, when I hear the culture mavens churn out the
same long-rehearsed litany of meretricious excuses. If you feel compelled to spin some
argot-dense palaver on the meta-political subtext
of a Mapplethorpe photo-essay
, go ahead and waste your time; I say it’s
enough that they’re compelling  images. Or not. It should be enough, really, that
we are free to see.

But it would be a mistake to assume that The Hoover Hog trades in prurience or
provocation. Because outside the galleries and right-brain cloisters, where the
stakes are more urgently delineated and the rules don’t readily bend to whim or
abstrusely defined fashion, that’s where the dissonant static – and the
concomitant urge to censor – keeps buzzing on high.

Most days I’d rather watch old SCTV episodes than contemplate the
vicissitudes of the IQ controversy, but then I catch the latest PBS expose’
begging me not to believe my lying eyes, and somehow I just can’t help but ask
the next question. Or just as I’m beginning to enjoy my third
bowl of Rice Crispies, I read where they’ve arrested David Irving and no one gives a
fuck
, and like a fifth Non-blond, I simply have to ask: what’s going on? Even if, more often
than not, I keep it to myself.

I’m not proud. I’m
not bored. But I am working from first
principles
here. And let me tell you, we have a problem on our hands.

It all came back to me In early 2005, when Harvard’s
beleaguered president, Lawrence Summers, proffered
a few speculative noodlings
on the role innate differences might play in influencing gender disparities
among top professionals in the hard sciences.  It was a scholarly
conference
and Larry wasn’t saying anything we haven’t all wondered about from
time to time, nor was he treading beyond the scientific consensus on
matters of neurobiology and cognitive psychology. By all accounts, he had
spoken in good faith and his words were parsed with the usual palliative qualifiers.
To the self-appointed arbiters among the professoriate, however, the verdict
was preordained; loose-lipped Larry had polluted the intellectual decorum of the forum with
the stink of crimethink.
And there would be consequences. 

You could forget those glossy cover stories touting “the decade of the brain.” And never
mind that Summers was referring only to the Aspergery
tech-nerds at the furthest sliver of the Gaussian distribution of
tech-nerdery. It didn’t matter that his remarks were couched in
hypothetical terms and contextually nuanced, with most of the causal
inference imparted to the usual socially-constructed culprits. It was
enough that Larry raised the subject at all. The notion that mental traits might
not distribute in lockstep conformity with some goldilocks ideal
of egalitarian justice was still too much for some very
serious people to tolerate. 

Remember what happened? In an oft-recounted fit of revulsion, MIT biologist Nancy Hopkins literally fled
from the forum. "I felt I was going to be sick,” she explained, “My heart
was pounding and my breath was shallow." Hopkins said that if she had remained present, she would have “either blacked out or
thrown up."

Taking their cue, other feminists would marshal their waning
influence to publicly shame the unenlightened Harvard prez into the requisite
displays of effusive contrition, with the corollary promises of face-saving largess
securely attached. And after all the hue
and cry and sad public ritual had played its course, the old order was restored
and everyone was back on script. Apologies
were made
, programs were established. A chill was felt. 

This is what happens. 

Perhaps you’re thinking it goes with the territory; that a
big Ivy League cheese like Summers knows the game and can reap the shit he
stirs. It’s a point I hear from time to
time. I might reply that you’re glossing
past some fundamental issues. But first
I should invite you to consider the less publicized but more disturbing case of
a dissident Holocaust researcher named David Cole. 

Even for people who are sincerely committed to the idea of
free inquiry, the subject of Holocaust revisionism – nay, denial – can be a bit of a show-stopper. If you’ve read enough to know that revisionist arguments,
regardless of their merits or shortcomings, are not inherently anti-Semitic or
pseudo-historical,”
you may still harbor a kind of vague discomfiture about the whole
business. The atmosphere isn’t as
poisonous as it was a decade ago, but my sense is that skepticism about the
scale, enormity, or uniqueness of the Jewish Holocaust often stirs a kind of
visceral, extra-rational, unease that is probably subjectively similar to a
moral sense of sacrilege. 

Being exposed to David Cole’s meticulous, forensically
deductive research on “the question of the gas chambers” can thus be a jarring
experience in cognitive dissonance. This is true in part because Cole’s methods
and logically analytical approach belie a political agenda. But let’s not kid ourselves; it is also
because he is Jewish. 

Back in the mid 90s, after I first saw Cole’s historically significant
documentary
(in which he interviews Auschwitz museum director, Dr. Franciszek Piper) and
read his tightly reasoned paper, “Forty-six
Important Unanswered Questions on the
Nazi Gas Chambers
,” I contacted David to ask if he would be interested in submitting
something for a low rent magazine that I was putting together. In the brief
correspondence that followed, he explained that he was busy with ongoing
research, but offered to let me publish some material he had originally written
for Pat Hartman’s
(now defunct) journal, Salon. I
happily obliged, and the essays that subsequently appeared in the print version
of The Hoover Hog were lively and provocative,
revealing a street-smart critical thinker at the top of his game. David seemed
a bit cocksure, but he was good-humored and surefooted in his reasoning, and I
defy any honest reader to find a trace of bigotry (or credulity) in his arguments
or commentary. 

I was disappointed when David stopped replying to my
letters, but it turned out he had a good excuse. 

Here is what happened. In 1994, Irv Rubin, the late director of the Jewish Defense League, posted a notice on his
organization’s website that can fairly be described as a “death warrant,” with
Mr. Cole – branded a “Jewish traitor” – in the crosshairs. Lest you suspect I
am indulging in hyperbole, consider that the initial JDL post bore the following
title:

“Who
is David Cole and Why Must He Die.”

 A subsequent post described Cole as a
“monster” who must be “eliminated altogether.” Referring to Cole without a
trace of rhetorical irony, the JDL asked, “[D]on’t you think it’s time that we
flush this rotten, sick individual down the toilet, where the rest of the waste
lies?,” adding that, “[o]ne less David Cole in the world will certainly not end
Jew-hatred, but it will have removed a dangerous parasitic, disease-ridden
bacteria from infecting society” The “notice” featured a helpful photograph of the
“Jewish Traitor” and promised a “monetary award” for “anyone giving us his correct
address.” 

The JDL, it should be noted, has long been recognized as an
organization that employs terrorist
tactics
, and Irv Rubin and his thugs have been implicated or suspected in
politically motivated threats, assaults, and fire-bombings throughout the
organization’s recent  history. When such an
organization places a warrant on your head, it’s not something you shake off
easily. So it was no surprise, really, when Cole was physically assaulted only
months after Rubin’s threat began to circulate. Nor was it be a surprise when, under a kind of pressure most of us can
only imagine, Cole publicly recanted his revisionist views, thereby gaining
amnesty from Rubin’s death threat. Ever
the magnanimous chap, Irv Rubin would later comment that Cole’s public
recantation was “evidence of the power of the Jewish Defense League.” 

I remember the surreal buzz I got reading the text of Cole’s
notarized “recantation
that was published on the JDL website. “I now understand,” it read, “that I owe
it to the people I wronged to make a forceful repudiation of my earlier views.
I also owe a very large apology, not only to the many people I enraged, and to
the family and friends I hurt, but especially to the survivors of the
Holocaust, who deserve only our respect and compassion, not re-victimization.” The statement went on to describe how Irv
Rubin had helped to show the error of Cole’s misguided views and rescue him
from the downward spiral of Jewish self loathing. 

Needless to add, this was not the voice of the spirited myth-busting
freethinker with whom I had corresponded. I remember being stabbed with a
frisson of regret over the many times I had tacitly abided the familiar
rhetoric about the danger posed by Holocaust deniers. Somewhere, I couldn’t help but imagine,
Foucault was laughing. 

With Irv Rubin now rotting at a safe distance somewhere six
feet under, I am happy to report that David Cole has re-emerged, albeit
briefly, to publicly comment on the atmosphere (if not the specific
circumstances) that precipitated his statement and subsequent exile. In an interview with Christopher Cole (no
relation) and Bradley Smith’s “Campaign to Decriminalize
Holocaust History
,” David offers some perspective on the repressive power
of taboo. "When Rubin put the ‘hit’
on me,” he explains, “I realized I had to get out.”

In the end, regardless of my love
of history, I didn’t want to die. It was just that simple. And that’s what
happens when violence and intimidation, or the threat of prosecution, like in Europe and Canada, are
introduced into a debate. Anyone who has anything to lose shuts the hell up, or
gets the hell out.                

Maybe we’re beginning to cut a little closer, then. But whatever
hardships David Cole may have endured as a JDL effigy, you may yet observe that
he still walks and breathes and kvetches, doesn’t he? Punk ass Jew.  Should’ve known what he was getting into. 

But if Mr. Rubin neglected to sign his love letter, there is
yet a point at which the slippery slope casuistry collides with an altogether
different mode of expression. As Theodore
Dalrymple
reminds us, “There are still many who would rather kill than
brook any contradiction of their opinions or beliefs, even while they live in
the most tolerant of societies.”  Just
ask Theo van Gogh’s mutilated corpse. 

Theo van Gogh, in case you’re wondering, was the great-grand
nephew of the famous daisy painter.
He was a self-styled writer and filmmaker and, by most accounts, a bit of an asshole. In his columns and public
pronouncements, van Gogh was known for his sardonic-to-hostile riffs, often at the
expense women and religious minorities. But
while his brash public persona often raised hackles from European culture
mavens, it was a cinematic foray into Muslim-baiting blasphemy that got his ass
killed. 

The object of special condemnation was a ten minute art
flick called Submission. Based on a
script by Somali-Dutch activist, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Submission
used deliberately provocative imagery to draw attention to the plight of women
in Islamic society. The film focused on four veiled Muslim women subversively adorned
in see-through shawls. As the camera trails sensuously over their shadow-draped,
half-nude bodies, revealing bruises and whip-marks, a female voiceover provides
first-person testimony to the brutal uxorial subjugation that continues under
the yoke of Islamic patriarchy. To make matters worse, the confessional
narrative is punctuated with images of Koranic verses painted in Arabic across the
Allah-forbidden female flesh. 

To occidentally jaded eyes, Submission
plays like an MTV public service announcement. But for Muslim viewers less
accustomed to boilerplate indie cineaesthetics, it was enough to bring the long-simmering
Islamic rage to a flashpoint. Thus after van Gogh’s film premiered on Dutch
public television in August of 2004, the death threats began to trickle in.  In short order, a critic cum assassin named Mohammed Bouyeri would
step up to bring the curtain down. 

Not content to post his two cents on Rotten Tomatoes, the recently radicalized
26 year old Dutch-Moroccan jihadist shot van Gogh off his bicycle in broad
daylight on a busy Amsterdam street on the morning of November 2, 2004. As the
wounded filmmaker pleaded for his life, Mohammed hit him with another round
before slitting his throat. 

A rambling five page note was found stabbed to the Dutchman’s
slaughtered remains. The text was directed not at van Gogh, but at the
"infidel fundamentalist" Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who had forsaken her duty
to Allah to march “with the soldiers of evil.” The letter is a shambolic
concatenation of rant and wrath, but it does have its moments. Here’s my
favorite bit: 

There will come a Day when one soul
will not be able to help another soul. A Day of horrible tortures and painful
tribulations which will go together with the terrible cries being pressed out
of the lungs of the unjust. Cries…which
will cause chills to run up a man’s spine, and cause the hair on his head to
stand straight up. People will appear to be drunk with (with fear) even though
they aren’t drunk. On that Great Day the atmosphere will be filled with
FEAR. 

 So for Theo, the Great Day came sooner than expected. When your
critics aren’t bound by the dictates of civility and reason, and when the natural
human impulse to censor is amplified by vassalage to some sanguine medieval
fascist god who wants those bitchy infidels bitchslapped into worm meat, well, this
is how you get the job done. It simplifies the dialectic, really. And it should have come as no surprise. 

But while the motives of Allah’s soldiers can be understood
within the ideological framework of militant Islam, the conspicuous
paucity of secular outrage over van Gogh’s execution was a different
matter. Whether out of personal animus
or some perverse cathexis to multicultural shibboleths, many within the liberal
commentariate were inclined to downplay van Gogh’s slaying, with some even
suggesting that the scruffy cineaste provocateur got what was coming to him. 

This tendency was acutely illustrated by a bombastic essay for the British
journal, Index on Censorship, in which
associate editor Rohan
Jayasekera dismissed van Gogh as “the Jerry Springer of Dutch politics” who
“abuse[ed] his right to free speech.”
With a semi-rhetorical wink, Jayasekera
summed up his obloquy by encouraging that we “applaud Theo van Gogh’s death as
the marvelous piece of theatre it was.”

 A sensational climax to a
lifetime’s public performance, stabbed and shot by a bearded fundamentalist…
Theo van Gogh became a martyr to free expression.   

This is what happens. This is how it’s done. 

What I’m saying is so much simpler. I am saying the stakes should never be so grave.
When a human being is slaughtered or imprisoned or publicly browbeaten for expressing
ideas, the cheap excuses and partisan bluster will always ring hollow. David and Larry may have been bullied into
silence, but Theo’s murder reminds us of the endgame. And the apologetic
rhetoric reminds us of the crisis that remains. This is where the iterations
don’t yield to nuance. Or so I will insist. 

And this is what I’m getting at – the moral cynosure
underlying the naked curiosity for which no apology is warranted. 

"The profoundest of all infidelities," Herbert
Spencer
is said to have said, "is the belief that the truth will be
bad." I like the sentiment. On my better days I welcome the light of day with
a swell of sweet humanist élan suited to our highest yearnings. Then I peer beyond
the rose-tinted wish and whim, and I am sobered to the implacable reality that
it simply doesn’t matter. 

There’s that Stephen Crane verse from high school:

 A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation

I close the refrigerator door and crack open the next to
last Rolling Rock. The first long
drink hits me slow and cold and in the stillness of the late night kitchen my
thoughts turn once again to the ineffable. For a familiar fragile instant I can
almost grasp the apocalyptic truth that eluded Theo van Gogh’s assassin.

No one talks eschatology these days. It’s too easy to forget
that the end of the world remains a tangible reality for every one of us who
lives yet to die. Which is why the political noise never adds up to much. Once
you cast your gaze into the proverbial abyss, there’s nothing left to
do but embrace the romance of the next moment, to stab at the received verities
no matter where the sacred cow chips fall. Nihilism fuels the furnace, but freedom
– the quixotic ideal – is the elixir. For me, the choice is clear
cut.  All bets are off.

And that may be the best reason to ask the next question.