How to know if you can trust the news source

 Here’s what non-fake news looks like - Columbia Journalism Review (cjr.org)

Morgan Motors: More than a car company

A few years ago my wife and I attended the 50th anniversary party of the Morgan Sports Car Club of Canada. It was well run and well attended event but what else would one expect?

Asked to say a few words after dinner, I was honored. Given five minutes to reminisce, I was told to tell a good story, I took ten minutes and told a pretty poor tale. I apologize. The night deserved more. 

For those of you who don't know, Morgans are said to be the first and last of a long line of well respected English-made, traditional sports cars with most ending production in the middle of the last century.

Why is Morgan called first? Because it was founded in 1909. Need I say more? Why last? Unlike Austin Healey, MG, Triumph and the rest, new Morgans are still being made in Malvern Link, England. No longer exported to Canada because of an ongoing dispute with Transport Canada, today the Chinese are big buyers. Check the link: China Morgans.

If this post were just about a car company, admittedly a very old one, but still just a car company, there wouldn't be much else to say. But a Morgan is more than a car; a Morgan is an experience, a philosophy, a global fraternity, a magic carpet on wheels.

Before I bought my Morgan, I first drove a motorcycle and then, when I lost confidence in two wheels, I bought a car, a Volvo 122. The car was safer than the bike but oh-so-much duller. I hated my Volvo. My heart ached for my Honda 305 Super Hawk.

And then, in late December '68, the answer to my predicament appeared in the window of Metro Motors in Windsor, Ontario: A dark green Morgan Plus Four sat in the showroom.

There was only one hurdle blocking my path to ownership. Curly, the dealership owner, refused to sell me the car without first chatting with my mother. I was 21! But, Curly was firm. I lived with my mom and the Morgan would be the family car, a daily driver. 

Curly sought confirmation that my mom wanted to mother a car along with a young son. The answer was yes; Mom loved the little roadster. It brought back memories of the early thirties and the cars my father drove while courting her. Curly acquiesced, and he sold me the car. My mother did not disappoint. Her affection for the Morgan never wavered. In the spring, I rewarded her with a quick trip to Jekyll Island, Georgia, to visit her sister.

 

An Experience 

We left Windsor before daybreak and drove and drove and drove. We weren't rich; we weren't poor but we were wealth challenged. The trip was a gift to my mom. A reward. A treat.

A hotel room was a needless expense. It was, after all, a one day trip. When I got too tired to continue, we pulled into a rest stop and rested. I believe we reached my aunt's shortly after midnight.

I should mention that I had made a similar but shorter trip in the past. I had traveled by motorcycle from Athens, Georgia, to my Windsor home in one day. Leaving Athens at dawn, I had arrived home after midnight. Despite the fact that the Athens trip was shorter, it took almost as long. 

I had to stop and tighten the bike drive chain and later a foot rest vibrated loose. Finding it and all the parts was difficult in the dark. Outside of Toledo the headlamp died. I drove the last freeway miles tucked tightly into the illuminated space behind a transport truck. Tailgating may be dangerous but it's safer than speeding along a busy highway at night with no lights.

Driving a Morgan is an experience. It puts distance back into driving and it colours the experience with pleasure.

The rapture is back; did it ever leave?

It was the mid '50s when I first encountered the rapture, the belief that Jesus would do a beam-me-up-Scotty routine lifting his earthbound believers to heaven. It would be a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't moment. If you sense that I don't take it seriously, you're right.

It was in the '50s as a ten-year-old boy that I attended a rally where a discussion of the rapture played a central role. Afterwards I discussed the rapture with my Anglican minister -- a minister who went on to become a bishop. He assured me it was a hoax based on a misreading of biblical text.

In the early '70s I worked with some young men who lived each day waiting to be raptured and with joyful glee, I might add. One warned me, "If we are playing catch and you have to run to catch the ball, if you don't see me when you turn around, look up. I may be floating skyward. The rapture may be happening." I  didn't laugh. This was madness. And when the rapture didn't happen, I worried he might become violent. Would he hold the disbelievers like me responsible for the failure of the rapture?

It is now 2021 and some of my relatives are falling victim to the rapture story. I don't worry about them harming me when the rapture fails to come, and it will fail to come, just as it has for well over a century.

No, I worry about losing these relatives, of being ostracized for my lack of belief. I love them dearly and think very highly of them. To consider my life completely without them is a line of thought that leaves me very sad.

If they want to believe in the rapture, that's fine with me. As long as they are not making decisions today based on being raptured tomorrow, I'm comfortable with their beliefs. If my liver wasn't failing, I'd drink a toast to them and to the rapture. "God bless," I'd say. (I may be too generous.)

After I wrote the above I found this on a site maintained by The Johns Hopkins University:

No less a figure than President Jimmy Carter expressed contempt for the rapture. He refers to it in his book Keeping Faith. The Johns Hopkins paper calls the rapture a racket. And the paper chooses to quote Barbara R. Rossing, a Lutheran minister and educator, who wrote The Rapture Exposed. 

Paraphrasing Rossing and condensing some of her arguments: 

Believers in the Rapture are not only in error, but they are an obstacle to building God’s Kingdom on earth. These misguided believers anticipate miraculous rescue from the catastrophes associated with the end-times and thus they do not place enough importance on working to solve crucial issues such as pollution, crime, poverty, and war.  A belief in the rapture is dangerous for planet Earth.

The original posting is down. This my attempt at saving this essay by Nate White.

The Question: “Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”

Ben Salt

I normally don’t share political content; there are many other profiles and places for that. I‘ve also learnt not to engage in highly divisive political debates, however based on reality my input might be.

Put simply, there’s little to gain in preaching to the choir.

But then there’s Donald Trump. And like much of humanity, I’ve been aghast at his recent abhorrent and often child-like behaviour. It’s hard to watch from a distance and equally hard to remain silent. The antithesis of what a leader should be.

Just look at those ratings! Yes, they’re comparable to the COVID-19 statistics he so casually downplays.

At a time where clear, transparent leadership is desperately needed and most decent people show compassion and humility, his self-centred presidency has degenerated yet further. Every decision is always about him and his enablers, not the people they pretend to represent.

Crucial announcements on public health and COVID-19 mitigation are instead delivered as politically-motivated statements in a confusing string of oscillating sound bites, contradiction or absolute nonsense — no matter how irresponsible or dangerous.

Where a new normal is for any reference of suffering or death, no matter how personal and painful, to be met with deflection and another ramble about self-perceived greatness. And any critique, no matter how relevant and important, is rebuffed by insults, a refusal to answer, even a refusal to attend press conferences. Then, yet another tweet-storm.

Welcome to playground politics, but without detentions or naughty steps. We thought it couldn’t get any worse, but it just did. And then again and again and again.

But don’t worry, let’s all inject Dettol and insert UV-emitting suppositories. Or pop hydroxycloroquine pills like we’re blind drunk and they’re peanuts. Forget those 5G-nanobot-controlled experts, if Trump says it, it must be true. After all, he’s normally right.

Then suddenly it’s not true and he wasn’t right. And all manner of spin is employed as the Trump team work furiously to deflect the latest blunder; remoulding lies upon lies like Play Dough.

Oh that’s what he meant this time. Silly us!

Then there’s the stay-at-home protestors, where another new normal is to see medical professionals try to block their procession; or even a large group of military-attire-clad, semi-automatic-wielding bullies descend on a state capitol in an apparently “acceptable and peaceful protest”.

Because Trump isn’t just going to this conspiracy story lovefest, he’s driving the bus.

Which brings me to this: the most accurate description of Donald Trump I’ve read.

The Question and the Answer

The story begins in February last year, when someone on Quora asked ‘Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?’. Nate White, a copywriter from the UK, wrote this response:

A few things spring to mind.

Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem.

For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace — all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed.

So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.

Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing — not once, ever.

I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility — for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman.

But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is — his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.

Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers.

And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults — he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.

There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface.

Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront. Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul.

And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist.

Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that.

He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat.

He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.

And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully. That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead.

There are unspoken rules to this stuff — the Queensberry rules of basic decency — and he breaks them all. He punches downwards — which a gentleman should, would, could never do — and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless — and he kicks them when they are down.

So the fact that a significant minority — perhaps a third — of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:

• Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.

• You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.

This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss.

After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss.

He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.

God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid.

He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart. In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws — he would make a Trump.

And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish:

‘My God… what… have… I… created?

If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.

[For Nate White’s other writings, see here.]

For some reason, the thread has since been deleted from Quora (perhaps overwhelmed with responses?). But a few people were inspired to preserve it on blogs and in other forms — like this, on social media.

Under one such post, someone suggests Nate White’s response is a typical disconnected, elitist or bourgeois response to a man who speaks for sections of society the upper middle-class disdain. That Trump bypasses the traditional media, which they control, and speaks directly to these people. And that Nate White’s response only serves to alienate them further.

But please share it on. For all those of any social class, race, ethnicity, nationality, creed, sex or sexuality who loath him, his politics and his disinformation.

Trumpism: Many More Questions than Answers

While Nate’s brilliant response describes Trump to a tee, the ‘some people‘ part of ‘Why do some British people not like Trump?‘ doesn’t sit well with the ‘not like Trump‘ part. Kind of like the dissonance between two crunching keys on a keyboard.

Multiple past surveys in fact put the proportion of Brits who have any confidence in Trump at under one third — a figure that may well have fallen since. Half even think he’s outright dangerous. Male, female, right-wing, left-wing, pro- or anti-Brexit, many people in Britain generally dislike Trump.

It’s a sentiment widely reflected around the world, as described by research such as this. So, the question Why does so much of humanity dislike Trump? seems somewhat more appropriate. And besides Nate’s character description, there are numerous reasons.

For example, should we really be having regular debates about what a president actually said? Is clear, transparent communication not one of the cornerstones of leadership and democracy?

Of course. But while no amount of spin can change what Trump and his team imply, a bucket-load of ignorance, whether wilful or not, will twist it into whatever some people want to believe — or are able to believe.

Anyone who blows the truth whistle or doesn’t toe exactly the same partisan line is ignored, bullied or fired. Democracy and free speech then become heavily influenced by disinformation, deflection, threats and a blinkered, singular narrative, thus rendering them almost meaningless.

But why does this so readily happen?

For starters, there’s the Dunning-Kruger effect, which I’ve mentioned numerous times in recent weeks. It’s a form of cognitive bias that partially explain how conspiracy stories might arise. A good explanation of this and other cognitive biases is given by Dan Pupius here. But in short: If someone lacks the competence to identify their own incompetence, it can give them false sense of capability, wisdom or intellectual superiority. Or as William Shakespeare wrote:

“The fool thinks himself to be wise, while a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

Various studies have also found a negative correlation between religiosity and intelligence, with those more susceptible to strong religious views tending to have lower levels of intelligence. Because intelligent people are more likely to resist religious dogma than conform, to adopt an analytic thinking style that undermine religious beliefs, and have less need for the comfort, security and self-enhancement others may gain from religious beliefs and practices.

This doesn’t mean all religious people are inherently stupid. There are many people who have less strong or progressive religious beliefs, freely acknowledging that the Bible, for example, and any literal interpretation of it are beyond outdated and meaningless. Some are even good scientists. They just have faith in some greater, divine power and a true origin behind certain religious scriptures. Something that neither science nor the mental and physical capacity of humans may ever be able to prove or disprove.

But there is a correlation. And not surprisingly, it then follows that God believers are more susceptible to conspiracy theories. Conspiracists believe deeply in unseen causal forces, drawing comfort and a sense of agency from their beliefs. Just as someone might from faith in a god.

To a certain degree, we’re all susceptible to various cognitive biases, no matter our beliefs, faith or partisan affiliation. In-group bias leads us to more likely trust people like us — within our group, team, profession, and so on. Similarly, confirmation bias is the tendency to look for or see only evidence that confirms what we already believe.

Vulnerability to such bias means we’re more likely to dismiss the studies or views of an expert because they don’t belong to our group or contradict a tribal belief; or equally, to accept those studies or beliefs without proper evaluation because they do.

Science can be wrong and it’s well documented many medical studies have significant flaws. That’s why meta reviews of multiple randomised-controlled trials are the gold standard. Media are also responsible for distortion or sensationalism when it comes to reporting on science. A brilliant, in-depth account of this is given in the book Bad Science by Ben Goldacre, and this article discusses the reasons why so many people doubt science.

But much of our modern world has been built on the incremental advancement of scientific knowledge. So, it’s implausible — at least, to most people — to believe that a large proportion of the global scientific community would unite with political leaders of every ilk and from all corners of the world to manufacture some sort of hoax. And apparently do it so badly that even a child would be able to identify the data that “supports” these wild claims.

Many things are simply not open for debate — they’re just facts. Biology is rooted in the principles of evolution. Vaccines save many lives. Climate change is really happening. And now, COVID-19 is having a devastating impact around the world.

For some people, ignorance or bias — or lack of education or intelligence — may be less significant in recognising scientific facts and forming fundamental belief systems. Research has shown people who tend towards schizotypal, Machiavellianistic and primary psychopathic personalities are also more likely to believe in conspiracy theories.

Such people may even be remarkably intelligent, but the intrinsic workings of their brains means they follow unusual patterns of thinking and behaviour, may be strategic and manipulative, and display social and emotional deficits. Their innate or acquired tendency for magical thinking means they see patterns in information that simply aren’t there.

They want others to see these ‘facts’ too, be they aliens living among us or the indisputable flatness of the Earth. And, unfortunately, their intelligence and ability to convincingly communicate their ideas makes them seem more credible, enabling them to reach and manipulate susceptible individuals, propagate their theories and become leaders of conspiratorial communities and cults.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly, cognitive bias when coupled with online social connections, algorithms and automation form very large echo chambers — or filter bubbles.

Since we only see information we want to see and find believable, and everyone in our social circles — in person or online — seemingly holds the same views, it can become almost unfathomable that any credible opposing view can exist.

This not only validates and reinforces long-held beliefs, it also allows for the rapid dissemination of disinformation. Especially when sponsored by dark elements through carefully manipulated multi-million propaganda campaigns.

Think Steve Bannon, Fox News, ONAN and Newsmax, the tobacco and fossil fuel industries, Scientology and certain other religious groups, the NRA. Think of QAnon or the numerous Trump supporters who already belonged to cult-like groups before his candidacy even became a thing.

Side Note: it just occurred to me that Trump 2020 can be written as 1+1 0 1+1 0 or simply 110110… 110110… 110110…

With the skewed understanding of reality that results from believing disinformation and misinformation, like perceiving real-world events through a cracked and fogged lens, the gap between fundamentally opposing ideologies — perhaps one more egalitarian and communitarian and the other more individualistic and hierarchical — becomes a chasm.

All this forms the perfect storm and enables Trump and his sponsors to pander only to his most partisan supporters with whatever they want to hear — or he wants them to hear, even if it’s complete fabrication. Everyone else is simply the enemy and everything else is labelled as “fake news”. It’s always “us and them”. Trying to have a meaningful debate with these people just draws on extreme cognitive bias and leads to further alienation.

And so a cult of personality is born. The Dear Leader posing as some divine, all-powerful saviour, always speaking the truth, always working to defeat the manufactured enemy.

It’s information warfare, an arms race between fact-based journalism and demagoguery, between critical thinking and click-bait, between reality and fiction. At the mere touch of a seemingly harmless “Tweet”, “Post” or “Share” button, with or without malicious intent, the fallout can reach every corner of the globe in seconds like no weapon has ever done before.

Pseudo-political leaders and conspiracists are living in their golden age — a disinformation bonanza.

So, what about those armed stay-at-home protestors? Why? (Just why?)

Because it makes them feel more powerful. They have nothing of substance to add to any debate — nor the ability to do so, so they have to resort to threatening behaviour.

What they will never be able to realise (lack of intelligence, Dunning-Kruger or personality quirks and deficits)— as they’re too long and too far influenced by their klan (in-group bias) and political dogma (confirmation bias) — is: they are the problem, not the solution.

COVID-19 mitigation versus welfare is a major issue around the world, particularly in lower-income communities and countries. I’ve posted about the situation in Thailand here, for example. But most ordinary people can also recognise that as soon as you don military attire and pick up an assault weapon to push your ‘peaceful’ argument, you’ve lost the debate.

Social distancing is not about us as individuals, our freedom or some antiquated constitution written by musket-carrying forefathers. It’s about the impact our behaviour might have on the health of others.

It’s about recognising that with freedom comes certain responsibilities. And as soon as someone is willing to flout those responsibilities, steps must be taken to protect other people.

But Trump and his team continue to send mixed messages to incite these protestors, selectively criticise Democratic governors, fuel conspiracy stories, deflect blame and attempt to win cheap political points.

Or to put it another way, even during a global health crisis, Trump and his team will continue to single-mindedly target the cognitive and partisan bias of his supporters with what’s-in-it-for-me propaganda and lies.

Land doesn't vote. People do.

Data scientist Karim Douïeb created a more accurate representation of how American's vote. He used colored circles, sized proportionally to population. Better than the usual method but still not quite accurate. Within each dot, there are both blue voters and red voters. Using shades of purple might be the better answer. Still, this is damn good, yes?

Wandering attention in life drawing class

 

No naked, dancing, wood nymphs posed for our life drawing class. And yet there she was, a naked wood nymph balanced on one toe in the corner of a life drawing sketch pad. 

In truth, our model was an older woman wearing heritage clothing. And the student was a quiet, young girl who seemed very serious, very studious, not at all the free spirit. Still, a dancing wood nymph appeared off to the side, near the bottom corner, of the large sheet of paper.

When class was over, the student tore the page from the pad and discarded it. The emotionless portrait might have been kept and handed in for a mark but for the presence of the vibrant, naked nymph sharing the page. I believe the young girl found the presence of the little nymph embarrassing.

I asked the artist if I could reclaim her art from the trash bin. She said yes. Today both images hang on my hallway wall. The artist has gone on to become an executive with a high-paying office job in a San Fransisco highrise tower. She no longer draws, keeping her desire to draw naked dancing ladies a closely guarded secret.

Did a journalist rush to judgment when pointing to suspected perpetrators?

 

 

A weekly column demands an essay be written every seven days. It should come as no surprise that a good number of the columns pumped out by journalist-columnists contain filler. Take this week's column by journalist-editor-column-writer and journalism school instructor Larry Cornies.

Cornies tackled the story of a noose found hanging in Warbler Woods near a popular southwest London public trail. The trail attracts hikers from all around the area. In fact, the trail is so popular there is a small parking lot for the public at the trail entrance near Commissioners Road West.

Cornies quotes Dr. Javeed Sukhera, chair of the London police services board, who called the noose "a symbol of white anger." He said, "A noose is never 'just' a piece of rope. It is a direct threat to my family and [me]."

Yet Cornies writes, "I suspect, this week’s incident was the work of bored, pandemic-bound youths looking to provoke a little conflict or excitement in their affluent neighbourhood . . . "

If I were editing Cornies piece I'd remove his conjecture. What evidence does he have that rich, bored kids were behind this. None that I know of. If he does have information, he should come forward, speak to the police. What are the facts behind his suspicions?

Is this another instance of a journalist rushing to judgment driven by the desire to write a tidy story?