Writing – Page 57 – a sibilant intake of breath

Document incompatibilities

The members of the M.Phil in International Relations programs have collectively embraced Macintosh computers. The only machines you ever see during our seminars are MacBooks, Powerbooks, and my lonely iBook. At the same time, Microsoft Word has generally been embraced by the academic community. I get about half a dozen Microsoft Word attachments from fellow students, instructors, and mailing lists every day. Every academic journal with which I have had experience (both editing and submitting) has used MS Word as their normal document type.

As such, the following error is especially infuriating. If you add images to a Microsoft Word document being produced on a Mac (in this case, a Venn diagram for my failed states paper), it will may load in Word for Windows with the following error:

QuickTime and a TIFF (LZW) decompressor are needed to see this picture.

First off, shame on Microsoft for not making documents from two pieces of their own software properly interchangeable. Secondly, shame on Apple. They say that Macs are machines for use in serious professional environments, and yet problems like this exist in the single most essential piece of professional software. This, and some other weird incompatibilities relating to fonts and formatting, make me a bit nervous about writing my thesis on a Mac, to be taken to a print shop that will almost certainly be using Windows machines.

People will say to switch to OpenOffice, but that is like replacing your car with a buggy because you don’t like the controls on the stereo. OpenOffice, like Linux, simply isn’t worth the bother in a world where everyone is using a near-ubiquitous alternative.

On a semi-related note, I am strongly considering using a non-standard font for the thesis (either Bembo or Perpetua, perhaps). Is it possible to have a document printed in a font that isn’t particularly standard, or will I get back something switched over to something generic but similar? If you turn a document using a non-standard font into a PDF, can people who do not have that font view and print it properly?

WordPress 2.0.6 update

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Sex discrimination in the sciences

Please note that much of the following is shamelessly stolen from a blog called Pharyngula: a stage in vertebrate embryonic development where all species look similar. This post, specifically, made me aware of the issue and most of these sources.

A letter in the July 14th issue of Nature draws attention to the possibility of sex discrimination in the European Young Investigator Awards, issued by the European Science Foundation. The awards provide up to 1.25 million Euros for research, but only 12% of them went to women, despite more than 25% of applicants being female. The chances of that distribution occurring as the result of random variation is less than 0.05%. The September 8th issue features a response, but it isn’t terribly convincing.

Of course, it is possible that the work submitted by women was less worthy of funding. Further research, however, suggests that this is not the case. A study by Christine Wenneras and Agnes Wold (“Nepotism and sexism in peer-review,” Nature 387, 341−343; 1997 – Oxford Full Text) includes some very dispiriting findings. The study looked at applicants to the Medical Research Council in Sweden. As part of their consideration, applicants are given a score for ‘scientific competence.’ In the Wenneras and Wold study, the productivity history of male and female scientists in Europe was evaluated using ‘impact points.’ For example, a publication in Science or Nature is worth about 23 points, whereas “an excellent specialist journal such as Atherosclerosis, Gut, Infection and Immunity, Neuroscience or Radiology” would be worth three points. Based on this approach, Wenneras and Wold concluded that “a female applicant had to be 2.5 times more productive than the average male applicant to receive the same competence score as he.”

That’s really awful. Indeed, it goes a long way towards discrediting the notion that the scientific community is capable of unbiased appraisal. While the study doesn’t tell us whether problems extend beyond the Medical Research Council, it certainly seems to warrant further examination. A lot more studies are discussed in this article.

Would it be feasible or beneficial to introduce a system wherein those reviewing scientific work could be kept from knowing whose work they are assessing? While that is possible for individual articles, it doesn’t seem possible in the context of grants or promotions. I would expect that most scientific disciplines are small enough that reviewers could pretty easily identify the source of work, even if personal details are removed from the copies they examine. That is especially true in the context of choosing who to promote within a particular university department. How, then, could greater fairness be achieved? I would be especially interested in suggestions from women doing academic work in the sciences.

Logic and ethics

Without warning, my failed states paper has grown to include Venn diagrams and predicate logic. This is what happens when you realize that one sentence could be expressed more comprehensibly through the use of a few symbols, then allow yourself to run with it. The paper (previously mentioned here and here) now includes branched formulations such as:

(h) Any state within the international system has the:

obligation

option

to intervene in a failed state, so as to:

help it return to a non-failed status

protect the human rights of those within it

cause the cessation of large scale violations of human rights, ie. genocide

Of course, the whole point is to prove that you cannot reduce normative considerations in international relations to such crude formulas. Logic is not a substitute for judgment, in the consideration of how to act in response to weak or criminal states. Also, any consideration of how to act morally in the international arena will involve the examination of multiple justifications and counter-justifications, weighing the importance of certain moral claims against alternatives. Logic doesn’t really help us with that.

It does, however, help with the writing of a paper that is at least likely to stand out from the rest of those submitted on the topic. I knew that symbolic logic course I took at UBC would be useful for more than just the Law School Admission Test.

Thesis literature review

The first substantive chapter of my thesis is meant to be a review of the relevant literature. Actually, it would be more correct to say ‘relevant literatures’ since so many different ones touch upon the subject matter. While climate science, ecology, and biochemistry are all relevant to Kyoto and Stockholm, they are not directly relevant to the thesis. The point is to examine the roles played by expertise in policy formulation, not engage directly with the scientific issues at hand. As such, the primary sources of interest are not studies of global warming of POPs, in their own right, but the discussions that took place within the scientific and policy community about what is going on (to be analyzed in Chapter 3: Information and consensus issues) and then about what should be done about it ( Chapter 4: Normative and distributional issues).

Having a look at the conversations that took place within the scientific community about taking a political stake against nuclear testing might be one way of gaining insight into how scientists deliberate about political matters, and how the legitimate role of scientists and the scientific community is seen. Likewise, the whole debate that arose about Bjorn Lomborg’s controversial book. While the public perspective on these debates is largely outside the scope of the thesis, it might be worth touching upon the relationships between public, expert, and political opinion in the chapter on consensus and information issues.

The relevant secondary literatures are various. They obviously include political and international relations theory, especially as they concern questions about prudent decisionmaking, the welfare of future generations, and other normative concerns. (On the normative side, Henry Shue’s work is both highly topical and likely to be considered essential reading by his colleagues here). In general, I am a lot more interested in the core issues of political theory (legitimacy, justice, etc) than in those of international relations theory, though some discussion of the nature of cooperation between states and the formation of international regimes is required. To some extent, international law is relevant, insofar as it helps to define how science relates to the policy process and the practice of states. Elizabeth Fisher’s work on public administration has made me think that the Rationalist-Interventionist and Deliberative-Constitutive frameworks she describes can be applied to international environmental negotiations. It is also fairly clear that some understanding and discussion of the philosophy of science is necessary to prevent the thesis from being overly naive in that regard.

Histories and analyses of the meetings and agreements leading up to the Stockholm Convention and Kyoto Protocol are likewise important secondary sources. Rather than repeat lengthy summaries of what happened in the limited space that I have, I can further summarize it and refer the interested back to more comprehensive accounts. Similarly, other secondary discussions about the nature, causes, and implications of the two agreements should be mentioned.

The last section I mean to include in the literature review is a listing of recent theses, primarily at Oxford, that have addressed similar issues. While it is probably better to engage with more widely known scholars than debate the arguments of these theses directly, there will probably be a bit of the latter in the final version as well. In particular, it might be a good way of making reference to other potentially relevant case studies. Also, since these works have often led me to useful sources, it seems only courteous to give a nod to their authors. Also, they may appreciate knowing that at least one person has dug up the document they spent so much time and energy completing.

If people can think of any other literatures I need to address – or can think of any really stellar sources within the disciplines enumerated above – please leave a comment.

Defining state failure

From writing about foreign aid, I have moved on to failed states. I am meant to discuss who defines states as ‘failed’ and what consequences it has for sovereignty. It seems to me that there are three general ways in which a state can be considered to have failed:

States can lose their integrity, as viewed from the security perspective by outsiders.
Alternatively, they can fail to maintain other characteristics that are considered essential in a modern state, such as a monopoly on the legitimate use of force.
Finally, they can fall below some moral threshold, below which their government or leadership is no longer seen as legitimate.

Of course, the relevance of a state being ‘failed’ or not failed lies primarily with how this changes the behaviour of other states and non-state groups towards it. If being a failed state suspends the traditional rights afforded to states – from territorial integrity to diplomatic immunity – being thus categorized could very significantly affect the treatment of both individuals and territory by outsiders.

In the first instance, a ‘failed’ state might be one that has lost control of what passes in and out of its territory, to the point where it endangers neighbouring states. This is a situation very specifically addressed in the United Nations Charter. Chapter VII specifically empowers the Security Council to “to maintain or restore international peace and security.” Generally, serious measures such as sanctions or interventions need to be justified as responses to such a threat. While the issue is sometimes fudged – for instance, by saying that possible refugee flows from an internal conflict threaten international peace and security – this is still quite generous amount of space to give states, in which to manage their own affairs.

There is a problem here, when it comes to states that have strong governments, and possibly even democratic legitimacy, but nonetheless either passively submit to or actively encourage activities that threaten international peace and security. Supplying weapons to illegal groups, for instance, is an activity that a very great many states have engaged in. It may be possible to be a criminal state without being a ‘failed’ state. If so, the difference in terms of treatment is worthy of consideration.

A definition of state failure based on the maintenance of certain characteristics by the state under consideration necessitates a setting out of what the essential characteristics of statehood are. In The Neutrality of Great Britain during the American Civil War, Montague Bernard explained it thusly:

a Community or number of persons permanently organised under a Sovereign Government of their own, and by a Sovereign Government we mean a Government, however constituted, which exercises the power of making and enforcing law within a Community, and is not itself subject to any superior Government. These two factors, the one positive, the other negative, the exercise of power and the absence of superior control, compose the notion of Sovereignty and are essential to it.

Here, non-failed states need to do more than control their borders; they also need to maintain the capacity to enact and enforce laws. Probably, this requires more resources than just maintaining territorial integrity, though it is hard to imagine a state with impeccably policed borders and a largely lawless interior. The bigger issue with this expanded definition is that it begins to subject the internal structures of a state to external scrutiny, in a way closely tied to the ability of that state to maintain international legitimacy and recognition.

(I know we discussed a formal definition of statehood in international law, in the class I took at UBC on that subject. I can’t remember which specific document was involved, however. Anyone who does is very much encouraged to comment. All my notes and textbooks from the course are back in Vancouver.)

The definition of state failure with the widest scope is some kind of affirmation of moral codes that non-failed states must obey, even in the conduct of their internal operations. This is, of course, a conception that arises hand in hand with the idea of human security. The idea that governments that either actively engage in crimes against humanity or allow them to take place unchecked have foregone their sovereignty is one that can be easily justified within a liberal tradition of political theory. Of course, it is a step beyond that to affirm the right of other states, or of the international community, to intervene in such circumstances.

Other problems arise when the above criteria are considered in combination. Take the example of Pakistan. By many measures, it is a strong state. There is an organized central government with a clear structure. There is an organized military and police forces. The state is externally recognized by the international community. At the same time, Pakistan either cannot or does not control the flow of materials and individuals across its northern border with Afghanistan, despite a recent and bloody effort on the part of the army to take control. Also, Pakistan has been shown to be involved in international illicit trade in nuclear materials and information on making nuclear weapons. While few would call Pakistan a failed state, it does demonstrate characteristics associated with state failure.

In the end, it isn’t clear to me that the failed / non-failed dynamic has much usefulness, when it comes to states. It is too simple to allege that a right to intervene arises from failure to comply with one or another set of requirements. Some kind of more sophisticated moral and legal conversation is necessary, making this binary distinction just one point of discussion in a broader dialogue.

2006 conclusion

The fact that it is now the last day of December is vaguely amazing to me. The time that has passed since returning from Turkey on the 16th has been the extended equivalent of deciding to have a nap after lunch and waking up at 8:00pm.

I suppose the winter break last year was similar, though two differences stand out as significant. Whereas last year, I spent a good amount of time getting to know Louise, this break has been characterized by almost universal solitude in Oxford. More importantly, whereas last year’s break involved little necessity of getting anything academic done, I have felt constant pressure this time, and hence constant disappointment. Kate pointed out, quite rightly, that an essential element of being a success in graduate school is being able to do your own planning and marshall your own energies; in the absence of a social climate, this is not a thing at which I succeed well.

While the post-Turkey period has been largely lacking in lustre, the year has generally been an unusually good one. I travelled to Malta in March, Scotland in July, Ireland in August, Vancouver and Barrier Lake in September, and Turkey in December. I met some new and interesting friends, gained some local and international correspondents, and did a lot of good photography and academic work. Publication of the eternal fish paper was secured, if not accomplished, and I did my first serious teaching. I had my first photograph published, albeit without my permission being asked.

2007 will be the most unscripted year of my entire life to date. If you had asked me to bet, at the age of twelve, what I would be doing at the age of 23, I would have suggested four years as an undergrad, followed by graduate school somewhere. Where the road leads from here is profoundly unclear – a reality that almost anyone would find somewhat daunting. It will be interesting to see what my summing up on 31 December 2007 will involve.

But the stars kept marching

By the standards of the break so far, today has been surprisingly productive. I read half of Kuhn’s Structure of Scientific Revolutions, wrote 1000 words for the introduction to my thesis, made some progress on the Dobson book on the environment and political theory, nearly finished up my foreign aid paper, and revised my CV for the job search.

I think a lot of the increased productivity can be explained by Emily now being up the road, working on papers of her own. I no longer feel like the one man on the dark side of the moon, scribbling away to himself. I feel like part of an Oxford community again, and one that is engaged in similar pursuits and therefore able to derive motivation from a sense of shared endeavour.

With luck, the remainder of 2006 involve an equal or greater amount of per-hour to-do list completion (focused on the academic category, rather than web / photographic stuff). If the trend persists until the start of term on January 15th, I may actually finish those three draft chapters. I am certainly looking forward to the return of friends and fellow students, the resumption of dinners in Wadham and New College, and the start of my international law course.

PS. This is an amusing observation. Interesting how just rewording something can make it seem very unusual. xkcd has succeeded Digger and Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life as my favourite thoughtful web comic of the moment. That said, both of the others are still excellent. My toque goes off to Alec Reed, Ursula Vernon, and Randall Munroe. I hope to buy them each a drink someday.

Aid paper 80% done

At almost terminally long last, I have come up with a draft of my paper on moral arguments for and against foreign aid. While a paper of 2500 words cannot begin to engage with the specifics of the broad moral conversation, I think it at least summarizes positions in an interesting way and highlights some of the most fundamental clashes between the positions.

The secret to getting papers written is obviously to abandon my home (too devoid of people and too full of interesting but non-academic things), as well as libraries (populated by pale and frightening ghouls who seem to be trying to get a jump on their June exams), and adopt a coffee shop without internet access as a base of operations. With good tables, a staff that will not kick you out even four hours after you bought a drink, and four shots of iced espresso available for £1.79, Starbucks remains my top choice. My firm and ongoing rejection of the idea that Starbucks is a soulless corporate monster is already well documented here. Ah, the joys of adopting counter-counter-culture positions.

For now, the plan is to read one more substantial journal article on the subject, give the paper another careful read, have one external reviewer glance through it for cogency of language and arguments, give it one more tweaking myself, and then pidge the thing to Ngaire Woods and move on to the next bit of work.

More thesis anxiety

In search of inspiration, or at least a renewed sense of direction, I had a look at the brick-like Notes of Guidance and the IR Booklet to see what I could learn about the thesis on which I am working. Of the two, the booklet is more informative, though the guidance provided is sparse and any hopes of finding inspiration are likely to be rapidly dashed:

The MPhil thesis, of not more than 30,000 words, is submitted at the end of the Easter Vacation of the second year, and forms part of the final examination. The subject of the thesis should be agreed with the supervisor well before the end of the first year. In some cases, MPhil theses require original research on primary sources, but in others, particularly where conceptual or theoretical issues are involved, it is enough to demonstrate mastery of a complex subject.

I have certainly managed to wander into a complex subject. Indeed, it is sometimes difficult to pin down exactly what it is my subject comprises (see my thesis seminar presentation).

I cannot help but feel that I was thrown headlong into something that I have never really understood. While being made to write a Research Design Essay and receiving commentary on it was certainly a good step, I still don’t feel as though I know what sort of work is meant to go into this thing. Which literatures do I need to read, and how much do I need to grapple with them? What constitutes an original contribution to scholarly discourse?

More and more, this project seems like a particularly massive hurdle to be jumped, in the dark and without much in the way of practice, rather than a project with inherent usefulness or value. That said, this grim perspective may have a lot to do with darkness, the relative emptiness of Oxford, on-again-off-again illness, Christmas solitude, endless ongoing problems with the student loan people, and related frustrations.

The most pragmatic thing to do seems to be:

Finish writing projects unrelated to the thesis
Read two or three former M.Phil theses on related topics, and with similar methodological issues
Step back from theoretical reading, in which I feel hopelessly bogged down, and do some specific reading of secondary literature on the Stockholm Convention and Kyoto Protocol

With much more specific information on my supposed case studies under the belt, perhaps it will prove easier to decide which theoretical literatures I am meant to read, and what I am meant to take from them.

[Update: 9:30pm] Perhaps the strangest thing about all of this is the fact that I was doing better and more original work back when I was at UBC. Then, I had five courses a term, each with its own material but also offering the scope for directed research. At UBC, I was frequently writing papers that, if they were good enough, could be published. Here, I haven’t written anything that would be publishable, even if it was an amazingly brilliant treatise on the subject at hand: the subjects have been too generic, the scope for inventiveness too narrow. The thesis is meant to be the ultimate counterbalancing to that, but I would rather see the weights on either side of the fulcrum more evenly balanced.