The Mugwumpery

February 14, and again we are afflicted with a swarm of these hallucinogenic creatures.

Obviously LSD wasn’t the first psychedelic.

There’s a story on Slashdot today about “a complicated pattern that has to do with the way humans do violence in some collective way“.

Surprise.  The size and frequency of terrorist attacks follows a power law – lots of little attacks, a few big ones.

What doesn’t?  Quoting from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareto_distribution:

The sizes of human settlements (few cities, many hamlets/villages)

File size distribution of Internet traffic which uses the TCP protocol (many smaller files, few larger ones)

Clusters of Bose-Einstein condensate near absolute zero

The values of oil reserves in oil fields (a few large fields, many small fields)

The length distribution in jobs assigned supercomputers (a few large ones, many small ones)

The standardized price returns on individual stocks

Sizes of sand particles

Sizes of meteorites

Numbers of species per genus (There is subjectivity involved: The tendency to divide a genus into two or more increases with the number of species in it)

Areas burnt in forest fires

Severity of large casualty losses for certain lines of business such as general liability, commercial auto, and workers compensation.

I could add a bunch more, but won’t bother.

Why is this considered news?  Why does it get published in Nature?  If terrorist activity didn’t follow a power law, I think that would be interesting enough to merit publication in a prestigious journal.  But this?

Is it just me, or is the quality of editorial work in science journals dropping?  I constantly see papers in Science and Nature that make the most basic scientific mistake possible – confusing correlation with causality.  And then the “quality” press such as the New York Times and the Economist pick it up and repeat the same nonsense.

See also:

• Zipf’s law
• Benford’s law

Today I got an email from Buy.com asking me to review a cell phone battery I’d bought.

Happy with the battery, and feeling like procrastinating for a few minutes, I decided to do it.

I clicked on the link in the email.  Buy.com immediately asked for my email address and password.

Now, which of my 5 different emails did I use for that purchase?  I guessed – wrong, apparently.

So, forget it.  I was going to do them a favor, but now I’m not.

Why do I have to authenticate myself to review a product I bought?  They know I bought it.  They know who I am – they sent me the email.  So why ask again for authentication?  They should have included a unique ID in the link, allowing me to write one (1) review for that one product.

Either some idiot at Buy.com thinks it’s necessary to re-authenticate me (likely following some corporate rule set down by God) or they’re just too lazy to bother to think about the situation.

This kind of corporate incompetence is all too common.

A friend forwarded me Orson Scott Card’s recent essay Would the Last Honest Reporter Please Turn On the Lights?, in which Card complains about journalistic bias (in this case, concerning the causes of the mortgage loan crisis).

Card writes:

If you had any personal honor, each reporter and editor would be insisting on telling the truth — even if it hurts the election chances of your favorite candidate.

Because that’s what honorable people do. Honest people tell the truth even when they don’t like the probable consequences. That’s what honesty means. That’s how trust is earned.

Card is a great science fiction writer (if you haven’t heard of him, go read Ender’s Game), but oddly, he seems to expect journalists to care about the truth.

I’m guessing he didn’t study journalism in school.

Professional journalists are trained to worry about “fairness”, not truth.  Reality, they are told, is socially constructed, and there is no such thing as objective truth.

Fairness means reporting “both sides” of a story even when there are 3 or 4 sides, or when it’s obvious who is lying and who isn’t.

If journalists were interested in truth, they wouldn’t pretend to be impartial (they’re human, of course they have opinions of their own).  Instead they’d openly admit their viewpoint and let the reader judge their arguments.

There are still countless newspapers in the US with “Republican” or “Democrat” in their title.  I suspect the relatively high esteem which journalists enjoy is a legacy from the era when these newspapers were founded.

Before the rise of “professional” journalism in the middle of the 20th century, truth was assumed to exist (even if it was difficult to find), and publishers were proud to announce their political allegiance.