Can anyone tell me what's so bad about the Adelphi Charter? To me it looks unexceptionable. It seeks a balance between the policy underlying intellectual property, on one hand, and other important rights, freedoms, and policy considerations on the other. In the hands of giant media corporations, which are placated by governments, intellectual property is often taken far beyond its original justification (creating property interests in certain resources that are not scarce, in order to encourage innovation) and is treated as an end in itself. Thus, we often see abuses of intellectual property rights. They need to be balanced by a robust doctrine of fair use and they should not be allowed to extend unreasonably.
I ask my question because a number of parties in Australia objected to the appointment of Ms Louise Sylvan to take part in the Productivity Commission's review of restrictions on parallel importation - partly on the basis that she was a signatory to the Adelphi Charter. In my view, this objection was misconceived.
Ms Sylvan has no legal conflict of interest even for the other reason given - i.e., that in her one-time role as CEO of the Consumers' Association she once gave her public support to the Association's policy of ending the restrictions. People such as judges and individuals conducting public reviews are required all the time to deal with issues on which they have previously expressed views. In this case, the views don't even seem to have been expressed as Ms Sylvan's private ones but as views that she was required to advocate in her official capacity. Anyone who has been involved in the process of lobbying or in the process of courtroom advocacy (or both) knows that public support given to certain views in your official capacity need have nothing to do with what you think privately. During my career I was called upon many times to advocate many positions about which I had private reservations. It's the nature of such jobs.
When it comes to being appointed to conduct a government review, the issue is not whether you once expressed a view on the topic - either a private view or a view that you were obliged to advocate in your official capacity. The question is whether there is any basis to believe that you are incapable of taking a disinterested approach to the issue. E.g., do you or your loved ones stand to benefit financially from one outcome or the other?
But even if there were something in this complaint, the complaint about the Adelphi Charter astounds me. The Adelphi Charter is entirely innocuous as far as I can see. What am I missing?
About Me
- Russell Blackford
- Australian philosopher, literary critic, legal scholar, and professional writer. Based in Newcastle, NSW. My latest books are THE TYRANNY OF OPINION: CONFORMITY AND THE FUTURE OF LIBERALISM (2019); AT THE DAWN OF A GREAT TRANSITION: THE QUESTION OF RADICAL ENHANCEMENT (2021); and HOW WE BECAME POST-LIBERAL: THE RISE AND FALL OF TOLERATION (2024).
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
If you read Australian books, read this
I'm a fiscal conservative, free trader, blah, blah, but I also care about the health of the Australian publishing industry and the vibrancy of the local literary community.
Accordingly, I've made a submission to the Productivity Commission's current study relating to restrictions on parallel importation of books. I'll try to remember to provide a link to my submission once it's published on the Productivity Commission's site.
Meanwhile, have a read of the issues paper. It may contain material that infuriates you if you're an Australian professional writer - on the other hand, I've been a public servant, and I know something about the policy making process and the exigencies of working within it. I think this is actually a very good paper that covers the pros and cons clearly and with good balance.
If you feel strongly about the issue, exercise your democratic right to make your own submission - but hurry, because submissions are due in the next couple of weeks.
Accordingly, I've made a submission to the Productivity Commission's current study relating to restrictions on parallel importation of books. I'll try to remember to provide a link to my submission once it's published on the Productivity Commission's site.
Meanwhile, have a read of the issues paper. It may contain material that infuriates you if you're an Australian professional writer - on the other hand, I've been a public servant, and I know something about the policy making process and the exigencies of working within it. I think this is actually a very good paper that covers the pros and cons clearly and with good balance.
If you feel strongly about the issue, exercise your democratic right to make your own submission - but hurry, because submissions are due in the next couple of weeks.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
What about the children?
Would-be censors often justify themselves by claiming that certain kinds of material are harmful to children, and so must be kept out of public sight. It's worth thinking about this before we simply accept it at face value.
Such would-be censors tend not to provide evidence as to what kinds of material are actually most likely to produce harm if children see them. I accept that the state has an interest in paternalistic protection of children from propaganda for dangerous commercial products such as cigarettes, but what other kinds of harm might be relevant to public policy?
Before banning speech and expression on the basis of ... well, "What about the children?" ... a legislature would presumably need to be armed with studies of what kinds of material produce feelings of distress, shock, nausea, and so on, or even psychological trauma of the kind that could be evidenced by, for example, phobias, withdrawal, or nightmares, if children see it. There is no evidence that merely "indecent" material has such effects (as if young children are not already fascinated by "poo jokes" and the like — without seeming to suffer any ill effects as a result).
While more needs to be known, I suggest the following as a first approximation. The kinds of speech and expression that are likely to produce distress, or even psychological trauma, if shown to young children might include depictions of cruelty to animals, depictions of sympathetic human or animal characters being killed, and supernatural threats (such as threats of hellfire or divine vengeance). Obviously, it would difficult to frame legislation that is directed at protecting children from exposure to this sort of material, though classification codes that offer advice to parents, rather than attempting to ban speech and expression outright, may be of some value in this respect. Furthermore, it's not obvious that using an age such as 18 would be appropriate if the idea is to protect young children from distress or psychological trauma: i.e., it's not at all clear that any particular material is likely to have such an impact on, say, teenagers, any more than on adults.
Of course, what counts as "harm" to children outside the area of distress or psychological trauma might depend on the values of the person alleging the harm. A conventional moralist driven by Augustinian ideas that the body and its functions are shameful might find something "harmful" in any exposure of children to nudity — so think of all the "harm" suffered by children whose parents belong to nudist colonies or frequent Bondi Beach! But such contestable ideas should receive no official support in a liberal society.
By contrast, somebody with very different views may consider it more harmful to expose young children to traditional religious ideas. This argument actually seems more powerful. It may be that ideas of gods, devils, spirits, and so on possess a psychological attraction for human beings that is disproportional to the actual evidence that any such things exist (perhaps because we have evolved with a tendency to over-attribute agency to the phenomena around us). Children may be especially prone to absorbing such ideas — even though they are neither well-evidenced nor actually true — especially if they appear to be supported by the authority of parents or other adult authority figures. As a result, many children may grow to adulthood with false and possibly overly-restrictive worldviews that they then cannot easily shed: the ideas in these worldviews may lie close to the foundations of a particular individual's belief system. Such an individual might never shed these ideas, including, perhaps, overly restrictive moral ideas that go with them. Or she might succeed only after a period of great mental torment. So why not ban images or discussions of gods, devils, and so on, if children might be exposed to them?
Such a question merits the answer that no liberal society can be expected to adopt a policy of officially deeming the exposure of young children to religious ideas to be harmful. Any attempt to adopt this as a policy would fly in the face of traditional ideas of freedom of religion, which have included the freedom of parents to bring up their children in their own faith. Yet the argument that this actually is harmful appears to be far more cogent than the argument that children are harmed merely from exposure to, say, images of naked human beings, or to much of the wide range of material that can be described as "indecent". I suggest that, if the state seriously wished to protect children from harm that results merely from being exposed to certain kinds of communications, rather responding to ill-informed moral panics, it would need to conduct extensive psychological and sociological research. Even then, it would have a great deal of difficulty determining an objective standard of "harm" — and if it somehow succeeded, the product of its investigations might well be surprising.
In all the circumstances that I've referred to, concerns about harms to children merely from exposure to certain images or ideas justify only a relatively minor role for the state. It may have a significant paternalistic role in protecting children from advertising for dangerous products such as cigarettes. Beyond that, it can establish systems that give assistance to parents in making decisions about what material they should allow their young children to watch, read, or access on television and the Internet, but it is questionable how much genuine good the government can really do where the Internet is concerned. There is no substitute for parental supervision, and concerns about Internet nasties should not be used as an excuse for censorship of communications between adults.
Cool consideration of these issues strengthens, rather than weakens, the case for freedom of speech, and, indeed, for its constitutional protection.
Such would-be censors tend not to provide evidence as to what kinds of material are actually most likely to produce harm if children see them. I accept that the state has an interest in paternalistic protection of children from propaganda for dangerous commercial products such as cigarettes, but what other kinds of harm might be relevant to public policy?
Before banning speech and expression on the basis of ... well, "What about the children?" ... a legislature would presumably need to be armed with studies of what kinds of material produce feelings of distress, shock, nausea, and so on, or even psychological trauma of the kind that could be evidenced by, for example, phobias, withdrawal, or nightmares, if children see it. There is no evidence that merely "indecent" material has such effects (as if young children are not already fascinated by "poo jokes" and the like — without seeming to suffer any ill effects as a result).
While more needs to be known, I suggest the following as a first approximation. The kinds of speech and expression that are likely to produce distress, or even psychological trauma, if shown to young children might include depictions of cruelty to animals, depictions of sympathetic human or animal characters being killed, and supernatural threats (such as threats of hellfire or divine vengeance). Obviously, it would difficult to frame legislation that is directed at protecting children from exposure to this sort of material, though classification codes that offer advice to parents, rather than attempting to ban speech and expression outright, may be of some value in this respect. Furthermore, it's not obvious that using an age such as 18 would be appropriate if the idea is to protect young children from distress or psychological trauma: i.e., it's not at all clear that any particular material is likely to have such an impact on, say, teenagers, any more than on adults.
Of course, what counts as "harm" to children outside the area of distress or psychological trauma might depend on the values of the person alleging the harm. A conventional moralist driven by Augustinian ideas that the body and its functions are shameful might find something "harmful" in any exposure of children to nudity — so think of all the "harm" suffered by children whose parents belong to nudist colonies or frequent Bondi Beach! But such contestable ideas should receive no official support in a liberal society.
By contrast, somebody with very different views may consider it more harmful to expose young children to traditional religious ideas. This argument actually seems more powerful. It may be that ideas of gods, devils, spirits, and so on possess a psychological attraction for human beings that is disproportional to the actual evidence that any such things exist (perhaps because we have evolved with a tendency to over-attribute agency to the phenomena around us). Children may be especially prone to absorbing such ideas — even though they are neither well-evidenced nor actually true — especially if they appear to be supported by the authority of parents or other adult authority figures. As a result, many children may grow to adulthood with false and possibly overly-restrictive worldviews that they then cannot easily shed: the ideas in these worldviews may lie close to the foundations of a particular individual's belief system. Such an individual might never shed these ideas, including, perhaps, overly restrictive moral ideas that go with them. Or she might succeed only after a period of great mental torment. So why not ban images or discussions of gods, devils, and so on, if children might be exposed to them?
Such a question merits the answer that no liberal society can be expected to adopt a policy of officially deeming the exposure of young children to religious ideas to be harmful. Any attempt to adopt this as a policy would fly in the face of traditional ideas of freedom of religion, which have included the freedom of parents to bring up their children in their own faith. Yet the argument that this actually is harmful appears to be far more cogent than the argument that children are harmed merely from exposure to, say, images of naked human beings, or to much of the wide range of material that can be described as "indecent". I suggest that, if the state seriously wished to protect children from harm that results merely from being exposed to certain kinds of communications, rather responding to ill-informed moral panics, it would need to conduct extensive psychological and sociological research. Even then, it would have a great deal of difficulty determining an objective standard of "harm" — and if it somehow succeeded, the product of its investigations might well be surprising.
In all the circumstances that I've referred to, concerns about harms to children merely from exposure to certain images or ideas justify only a relatively minor role for the state. It may have a significant paternalistic role in protecting children from advertising for dangerous products such as cigarettes. Beyond that, it can establish systems that give assistance to parents in making decisions about what material they should allow their young children to watch, read, or access on television and the Internet, but it is questionable how much genuine good the government can really do where the Internet is concerned. There is no substitute for parental supervision, and concerns about Internet nasties should not be used as an excuse for censorship of communications between adults.
Cool consideration of these issues strengthens, rather than weakens, the case for freedom of speech, and, indeed, for its constitutional protection.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Hadley Rille's page for The Priestess and the Slave
Check out the page, on the Hadley Rille site for Jenny's forthcoming book, The Priestess and the Slave. Looks pretty, eh? The final cover art is going to be wonderful.
The publication of the new book - Jenny's first one by herself, but I'm sure it won't be her last - is something to look forward to a bit later this year.
The publication of the new book - Jenny's first one by herself, but I'm sure it won't be her last - is something to look forward to a bit later this year.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
So ends a huge year in my life
Here we are at the end of 2008, which turned out to be a huge year in my life. I'd have to go back a long way to find a more eventful one.
Sadly, it began with the loss of my mother in hospital early in January - ironically enough with just me and a nurse present, as my father and sister who'd been keeping long vigils were both getting some much-needed and overdue rest. Given what Mum had been through during the previous year, it was almost a blessing when the end came, but of course that kind of cliched talk is little consolation to those of us left behind, especially my dad, who lost his life partner after a marriage that lasted well over 60 years. Since then, I've spent a lot of time with my family, travelling frequently to Newcastle ... where Jenny and I will very likely return permanently at the end of next year.
I've been further afield twice, with short trips overseas to New Zealand early in the year, for a long-overdue holiday with Jenny, and to the UK late in the year, funded by the Foundation for Art and Creative Technology in Liverpool.
This has been a big working year. I had light teaching loads in both semesters, which is just as well when you add up the rest of what had to be done. I'd written a first draft of my PhD thesis in 2007, but this had major structural problems and was far too ambitious. In 2008, I produced a second version that was completely different, considerably shorter, much more tightly focused, essentially a new work. This means I have tens of thousands of unused material lying around from the first version, waiting for me to get back to it some time, to see what I can do with all the metaethical argument and fundamental normative theory that never made it into the new version of the thesis.
After various ups and downs, I finally submitted the thesis in late August. My examiners were very quick, and I found out in November that both had given it the thumbs-up with no revisions required. Save for the formal graduation, I now have the long-awaited second PhD, and now have to work out if I can find a publisher for it.
At the same time, I've been working on the Voices of Disbelief project with Udo Schuklenk. This went surprisingly smoothly but still had its own ups and downs. Editing an original anthology like this is a job comparable in size to writing a book of similar length, though in some ways it's more like managing a small business. For a start, intense effort went into finding high-profile people who were prepared to contribute to such a book. While we've ended up with 50 contributors in addition to ourselves, we actually wrote to a vastly greater number. Some of our emails were probably never received. Some people ignored us. One or two were dismissive. Many were gracious, but apologised because they were too busy. In retrospect, it's perhaps surprising that so many took us as seriously as they did, since quite a few of the people who ended up on board would never have heard of either of us.
In March, if I recall correctly, Blackwell came on board as publisher. We settled a list of about 60 people, but as the year went on the line-up changed slightly. Some folks had to drop out with illness or for other personal or professional reasons. In one case, one of my dearest friends had to drop out because of very serious illness. If she reads this, I send her my love. Udo and I ended up taking some essays a fair bit longer than we originally planned. After some to-ing and fro-ing we only added one name to our original list to balance those who had to leave the project, but with those longer pieces the manuscript we've ended up with is over 120,000 words.
The actual editing was a great privilege but also a challenge. Some essays, of course, scarcely needed editing at all - the authors sensed exactly what we had in mind. Others took quite a bit of work, though always the aim was to make the voice of the author as clear as possible, rather than to impose the views of the editors. Bear in mind that we had a great diversity of authors, some far more experienced as professional writers than others, some of them writing in English even though it is not their first language, some of them with impressive careers as professional novelists, some as academic philosophers, some as journalists, some as activists in the world of sceptics, humanists, and secularists. They all produced excellent essays, but sometimes the essays needed some tweaking or even rethinking. Then blending all this into the best book we could all make it was not always straightforward. Once Udo and I decided to accept essays of well over 3000 words (sensing that we were likely to end up with more like 50 than 60 authors), we were constantly worried that we'd end up with something too long overall and be forced to go back and ask some authors for cuts.
But I must add immediately that the authors were wonderfully responsive whenever we made suggestions or raised issues for them to consider, and the whole exercise was an amazing learning experience. The final mix of essays ranging from about 500 words to about 6000 words is more interesting than what we originally had in mind (with everything between 1500 and 3000). Best of all from my viewpoint, I've made some friendships out of the exercise. I certainly hope to work again with all these fantastic people.
We were able to submit the manuscript only one day after our 1 December deadline, and we now await proofs from Blackwell. We'll need to do a final layer of proofing and then, alas, put together an index (a task that some people enjoy, but I can't say that it's my cup of tea). Based on our best information, the book will actually be published in about July or August. Thanks to all the authors, once again.
Meanwhile, I took over in January as editor-in-chief of The Journal of Evolution and Technology. During the year we published three substantial issues and have started on a fourth. Almost all of the material we've published so far had been accepted before I came on board, so it'll be some time before I really make my mark on the journal. However, it all required editing, or further editing, and in this case quite a lot of what we'd accepted was from authors whose first language is not English. We needed to work closely with them to help them express themselves as clearly as possible for an English-speaking audience. My aim as an editor is always to help the authors express themselves with the maximum accuracy and clarity, not to impose my own beliefs, and I like to think that the partnership with the JET contributors has been pretty successful so far.
Another challenge with editing JET is that it's an interdisciplinary journal. Whatever claims of polymathy I might have, I can't possibly be expert across the vast range of displines that have something important to contribute. That means I need help, and I'm still at a relatively early stage in building up the network that I need to rely upon. Submissions are not getting reviewed as quickly as I'd like, and I must take some of the blame for this, as I haven't always found it easy getting the right reviewers quickly. Hopefully, that will improve. We're certainly working on it. Meanwhile, we've pretty much cleared the backlog that had been building up, and are well placed to continue the journal's flagship role.
Thanks especially to Marcelo Rinesi, whose work as managing editor has been invaluable.
While working on those projects, I've spent far too many hours at the computer wasting my time playing games (often in the form of Facebook apps), engaging in unproductive net surfing, and generally sitting here in my office getting unfit and fat. I must do something about that next year.
Jenny has had a breakthrough year, with the publication of her highest-profile story to date - "Trolls' Night Out" in Jack Dann's Dreaming Again anthology (which also contain my story "Manannan's Children"). She has her first solo book coming out next year, having sold her brillant standalone novella The Priestess and the Slave. This has been backed up by several other sales. To cap it all, she now has a daunting task ahead as a judge for the World Fantasy Awards - a great honour, but not an easy job.
One thing that I've failed to do in 2008 is get much reading done. I normally read over 100 books each year. This year, the final count was 74. Note to self: Must do better. I also haven't done much getting out to see movies. My workout schedule faded away completely, but that's partly because I've been carrying a minor shoulder injury all year and having a lot of trouble getting it 100 per cent better despite hydrodilatation and lots of time at the physiotherapist. No sooner have I got it back to about 95 per cent than I've somehow hurt my right hand.
Ah for the days when I used to get some minor injuries if I worked out too hard, but could actually recover from them. In that sense, middle age sucks. All in all, I've spent too much time in 2008 locked away in front of the computer.
But I've also managed to spend quite a lot of time enjoying the company of friends and family. What with losing one of my parents, I've had much reason to think about what I really want to achieve during this limited life. Obviously, I'm ambitious in many ways, if you haven't noticed, and I'm constantly looking out for partners in worthwhile projects ... since I (like to think that) I work well in a team, whether I'm contributing as a writer or as an editor. I have certain talents and skills, modest as they be, and I like to use them. But I've realised over the past 18 months that the most important thing of all is that the small group of people I love never doubt that I love them. I hope you don't, those of you who happen to read this, and I'll do my best to make sure you don't.
On that note, Happy New Year everybody! May 2009 be a better year for those who found 2008 tough going. May it be a good year for us all.
Sadly, it began with the loss of my mother in hospital early in January - ironically enough with just me and a nurse present, as my father and sister who'd been keeping long vigils were both getting some much-needed and overdue rest. Given what Mum had been through during the previous year, it was almost a blessing when the end came, but of course that kind of cliched talk is little consolation to those of us left behind, especially my dad, who lost his life partner after a marriage that lasted well over 60 years. Since then, I've spent a lot of time with my family, travelling frequently to Newcastle ... where Jenny and I will very likely return permanently at the end of next year.
I've been further afield twice, with short trips overseas to New Zealand early in the year, for a long-overdue holiday with Jenny, and to the UK late in the year, funded by the Foundation for Art and Creative Technology in Liverpool.
This has been a big working year. I had light teaching loads in both semesters, which is just as well when you add up the rest of what had to be done. I'd written a first draft of my PhD thesis in 2007, but this had major structural problems and was far too ambitious. In 2008, I produced a second version that was completely different, considerably shorter, much more tightly focused, essentially a new work. This means I have tens of thousands of unused material lying around from the first version, waiting for me to get back to it some time, to see what I can do with all the metaethical argument and fundamental normative theory that never made it into the new version of the thesis.
After various ups and downs, I finally submitted the thesis in late August. My examiners were very quick, and I found out in November that both had given it the thumbs-up with no revisions required. Save for the formal graduation, I now have the long-awaited second PhD, and now have to work out if I can find a publisher for it.
At the same time, I've been working on the Voices of Disbelief project with Udo Schuklenk. This went surprisingly smoothly but still had its own ups and downs. Editing an original anthology like this is a job comparable in size to writing a book of similar length, though in some ways it's more like managing a small business. For a start, intense effort went into finding high-profile people who were prepared to contribute to such a book. While we've ended up with 50 contributors in addition to ourselves, we actually wrote to a vastly greater number. Some of our emails were probably never received. Some people ignored us. One or two were dismissive. Many were gracious, but apologised because they were too busy. In retrospect, it's perhaps surprising that so many took us as seriously as they did, since quite a few of the people who ended up on board would never have heard of either of us.
In March, if I recall correctly, Blackwell came on board as publisher. We settled a list of about 60 people, but as the year went on the line-up changed slightly. Some folks had to drop out with illness or for other personal or professional reasons. In one case, one of my dearest friends had to drop out because of very serious illness. If she reads this, I send her my love. Udo and I ended up taking some essays a fair bit longer than we originally planned. After some to-ing and fro-ing we only added one name to our original list to balance those who had to leave the project, but with those longer pieces the manuscript we've ended up with is over 120,000 words.
The actual editing was a great privilege but also a challenge. Some essays, of course, scarcely needed editing at all - the authors sensed exactly what we had in mind. Others took quite a bit of work, though always the aim was to make the voice of the author as clear as possible, rather than to impose the views of the editors. Bear in mind that we had a great diversity of authors, some far more experienced as professional writers than others, some of them writing in English even though it is not their first language, some of them with impressive careers as professional novelists, some as academic philosophers, some as journalists, some as activists in the world of sceptics, humanists, and secularists. They all produced excellent essays, but sometimes the essays needed some tweaking or even rethinking. Then blending all this into the best book we could all make it was not always straightforward. Once Udo and I decided to accept essays of well over 3000 words (sensing that we were likely to end up with more like 50 than 60 authors), we were constantly worried that we'd end up with something too long overall and be forced to go back and ask some authors for cuts.
But I must add immediately that the authors were wonderfully responsive whenever we made suggestions or raised issues for them to consider, and the whole exercise was an amazing learning experience. The final mix of essays ranging from about 500 words to about 6000 words is more interesting than what we originally had in mind (with everything between 1500 and 3000). Best of all from my viewpoint, I've made some friendships out of the exercise. I certainly hope to work again with all these fantastic people.
We were able to submit the manuscript only one day after our 1 December deadline, and we now await proofs from Blackwell. We'll need to do a final layer of proofing and then, alas, put together an index (a task that some people enjoy, but I can't say that it's my cup of tea). Based on our best information, the book will actually be published in about July or August. Thanks to all the authors, once again.
Meanwhile, I took over in January as editor-in-chief of The Journal of Evolution and Technology. During the year we published three substantial issues and have started on a fourth. Almost all of the material we've published so far had been accepted before I came on board, so it'll be some time before I really make my mark on the journal. However, it all required editing, or further editing, and in this case quite a lot of what we'd accepted was from authors whose first language is not English. We needed to work closely with them to help them express themselves as clearly as possible for an English-speaking audience. My aim as an editor is always to help the authors express themselves with the maximum accuracy and clarity, not to impose my own beliefs, and I like to think that the partnership with the JET contributors has been pretty successful so far.
Another challenge with editing JET is that it's an interdisciplinary journal. Whatever claims of polymathy I might have, I can't possibly be expert across the vast range of displines that have something important to contribute. That means I need help, and I'm still at a relatively early stage in building up the network that I need to rely upon. Submissions are not getting reviewed as quickly as I'd like, and I must take some of the blame for this, as I haven't always found it easy getting the right reviewers quickly. Hopefully, that will improve. We're certainly working on it. Meanwhile, we've pretty much cleared the backlog that had been building up, and are well placed to continue the journal's flagship role.
Thanks especially to Marcelo Rinesi, whose work as managing editor has been invaluable.
While working on those projects, I've spent far too many hours at the computer wasting my time playing games (often in the form of Facebook apps), engaging in unproductive net surfing, and generally sitting here in my office getting unfit and fat. I must do something about that next year.
Jenny has had a breakthrough year, with the publication of her highest-profile story to date - "Trolls' Night Out" in Jack Dann's Dreaming Again anthology (which also contain my story "Manannan's Children"). She has her first solo book coming out next year, having sold her brillant standalone novella The Priestess and the Slave. This has been backed up by several other sales. To cap it all, she now has a daunting task ahead as a judge for the World Fantasy Awards - a great honour, but not an easy job.
One thing that I've failed to do in 2008 is get much reading done. I normally read over 100 books each year. This year, the final count was 74. Note to self: Must do better. I also haven't done much getting out to see movies. My workout schedule faded away completely, but that's partly because I've been carrying a minor shoulder injury all year and having a lot of trouble getting it 100 per cent better despite hydrodilatation and lots of time at the physiotherapist. No sooner have I got it back to about 95 per cent than I've somehow hurt my right hand.
Ah for the days when I used to get some minor injuries if I worked out too hard, but could actually recover from them. In that sense, middle age sucks. All in all, I've spent too much time in 2008 locked away in front of the computer.
But I've also managed to spend quite a lot of time enjoying the company of friends and family. What with losing one of my parents, I've had much reason to think about what I really want to achieve during this limited life. Obviously, I'm ambitious in many ways, if you haven't noticed, and I'm constantly looking out for partners in worthwhile projects ... since I (like to think that) I work well in a team, whether I'm contributing as a writer or as an editor. I have certain talents and skills, modest as they be, and I like to use them. But I've realised over the past 18 months that the most important thing of all is that the small group of people I love never doubt that I love them. I hope you don't, those of you who happen to read this, and I'll do my best to make sure you don't.
On that note, Happy New Year everybody! May 2009 be a better year for those who found 2008 tough going. May it be a good year for us all.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Big year - or two - for science
Charles Darwin, undoubtedly one of the greatest figures in science of all time, was born in February 1809, meaning that his 200th anniversary is coming up very soon. At the age of 50, after much thought and delay, he published On the Origin of Species in November 1859, so next year is also the 150th anniversary of that monumental event.
In fact, I scarcely need to remind my friends of these anniversaries. A lot of fuss is already being made about them in scientific circles - and also in sceptical circles, fueled in the latter case by the obvious conflict between Darwinian theory and some of the cruder forms of Christianity that deny the well-corroborated facts of biological evolution.
But while we're celebrating Darwin, let me put in a plug for a book that's almost as important as The Origin of Species, and which was published in the same year. I mean On Liberty, by Darwin's contemporary John Stuart Mill - the book that is the nearest thing to a bible for liberal thinkers, and still the greatest argument ever made not only for individual liberty in general but more specifically for intellectual freedom and freedom of speech.
Then there's, arguably, an even bigger anniversary coming up in 2009/2010. Modern science was given its kick-start 400 years before in the 17th century, when Galileo challenged the certitudes of the time by taking an instrument that extended the human senses - the telescope - and pointing it at the heavens. There is no one date when the modern methods of science first crystallised, separating out from the broader methods of rational inquiry, with which of course they are still continuous. But it is difficult to find a more dramatic point in the process than Galileo's initial observations and his dramatic reports of them.
Though Galileo was demonstrating his telescope as early as August 1609, his most critical observations were those in early 1610, when he discovered the moons of Jupiter - this shattered the geocentric assumption that all heavenly bodies must orbit the Earth. He published his early findings in March 1610, and later in the same year he demonstrated that Venus orbits the Sun. It is only a slight exaggeration to claim that 1610 was the beginning of modern science; it's close enough to the truth for us to declare science, in something like the form we now know it, to be pretty much 400 years old, with Galileo as its greatest originator.
So let 2009 be the anniversary year for Darwin and biological evolution (and don't forget John Stuart Mill, the defender of our liberties). Then 2010 is the year to celebrate Galileo and more generally the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century. These are big years coming up to celebrate science ... and more generally the life of freedom and reason.
In fact, I scarcely need to remind my friends of these anniversaries. A lot of fuss is already being made about them in scientific circles - and also in sceptical circles, fueled in the latter case by the obvious conflict between Darwinian theory and some of the cruder forms of Christianity that deny the well-corroborated facts of biological evolution.
But while we're celebrating Darwin, let me put in a plug for a book that's almost as important as The Origin of Species, and which was published in the same year. I mean On Liberty, by Darwin's contemporary John Stuart Mill - the book that is the nearest thing to a bible for liberal thinkers, and still the greatest argument ever made not only for individual liberty in general but more specifically for intellectual freedom and freedom of speech.
Then there's, arguably, an even bigger anniversary coming up in 2009/2010. Modern science was given its kick-start 400 years before in the 17th century, when Galileo challenged the certitudes of the time by taking an instrument that extended the human senses - the telescope - and pointing it at the heavens. There is no one date when the modern methods of science first crystallised, separating out from the broader methods of rational inquiry, with which of course they are still continuous. But it is difficult to find a more dramatic point in the process than Galileo's initial observations and his dramatic reports of them.
Though Galileo was demonstrating his telescope as early as August 1609, his most critical observations were those in early 1610, when he discovered the moons of Jupiter - this shattered the geocentric assumption that all heavenly bodies must orbit the Earth. He published his early findings in March 1610, and later in the same year he demonstrated that Venus orbits the Sun. It is only a slight exaggeration to claim that 1610 was the beginning of modern science; it's close enough to the truth for us to declare science, in something like the form we now know it, to be pretty much 400 years old, with Galileo as its greatest originator.
So let 2009 be the anniversary year for Darwin and biological evolution (and don't forget John Stuart Mill, the defender of our liberties). Then 2010 is the year to celebrate Galileo and more generally the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century. These are big years coming up to celebrate science ... and more generally the life of freedom and reason.
Friday, December 26, 2008
It seems like I'm writing a book
Okay, this wasn't intentional.
I said a few posts back that I'd write some sort of submission to the human rights consultation headed up by Frank Brennan. Well, here I am; I've written 27,000 words already, with no end in sight for the reading and writing that I feel I need to do. I'm going to have to stop at some point and wrestle it into some kind of workable structure, etc., to send off to Brennan and his team, but even when I do I'm sure there'll still be much that needs to be said.
This suggests that the submission is actually going to be the core of a new book. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea who is likely to publish such a book - it will have to be an Australian publisher unless I find a way to make the topic much more general (hence losing a lot of good material) because it's very much about how Australia should protect individual rights and freedoms. However, I really don't know whether any Australian publisher might be interested in such a project from me: I don't have an "in" with any publisher that would actually be right for it. It's going to be a matter of "write now, try to work out how to get it published later even if it has to be chopped up into articles" ... which is not the way I like to work. I'm more a "get a contract signed first" kind of guy, though of course I'm now also looking for a publisher (in this case an international one) for my PhD thesis.
If anyone can help me, I'm happy to buy you the ice cream, winsome flute girl, fancy pair of shoes, or other small reward of your choice.
I said a few posts back that I'd write some sort of submission to the human rights consultation headed up by Frank Brennan. Well, here I am; I've written 27,000 words already, with no end in sight for the reading and writing that I feel I need to do. I'm going to have to stop at some point and wrestle it into some kind of workable structure, etc., to send off to Brennan and his team, but even when I do I'm sure there'll still be much that needs to be said.
This suggests that the submission is actually going to be the core of a new book. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea who is likely to publish such a book - it will have to be an Australian publisher unless I find a way to make the topic much more general (hence losing a lot of good material) because it's very much about how Australia should protect individual rights and freedoms. However, I really don't know whether any Australian publisher might be interested in such a project from me: I don't have an "in" with any publisher that would actually be right for it. It's going to be a matter of "write now, try to work out how to get it published later even if it has to be chopped up into articles" ... which is not the way I like to work. I'm more a "get a contract signed first" kind of guy, though of course I'm now also looking for a publisher (in this case an international one) for my PhD thesis.
If anyone can help me, I'm happy to buy you the ice cream, winsome flute girl, fancy pair of shoes, or other small reward of your choice.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
"Taking power from the legislature and giving it to unelected judges ..."
How often do we hear this expression? I'm sick of it, not only because I now see multiple references to it every day, as the debate about a Bill or Charter of Rights for Australia gets going, but because it is so simplistic and misleading.
Take a situation where a constitutional Bill of Rights provides that the legislature may enact no law suppressing a religious viewpoint. Perhaps there's an override clause that such laws may be enacted if demonstrably necessary in a free and democratic society ... just in case we find ourselves threatened by a bunch of neo-Aztec fanatics who want to use the rest of us for human sacrifices, and the practical point is reached where we have no choice but to send in the army to try to suppress the entire cult. But imagine that, subject to the override clause, the legislature doesn't have power to go around enacting laws to suppress particular religions (or religion in general, or viewpoints that are sceptical about religion). Imagine that it would have this power, but for the particular constitutional provision.
Now, has the constitutional provision taken power from the legislature and given it to unelected judges? Well, perhaps in a contrived sense. It has certainly taken power from the legislature: the legislature no longer has the power to suppress religious viewpoints (except in certain pressing circumstances). Arguably, the provision has also given power to the courts: after all, they now have the power to strike down laws that are made beyond the power of the legislature in the relevant respect. If the override clause exists (or if something like it is considered to be implicit) courts may also need to consider whether, in the circumstances, a certain law really is demonstrably required, etc.
Still with me?
Then note that the power given to the court is merely that of ascertaining when a law has overstepped the line and when it hasn't. The court adjudicates this against a superior law, namely the constitutional provision. But this is exactly the sort of exercise that judges carry out all the time, and that they are trained for: interpreting laws, teasing out situations of inconsistency between laws, determining which prevails in the case of inconsistency, and so on. I actually like the idea that this task is delegated to highly-trained and (usually) highly-skilled professionals.
And also note this: while a power has, in a sense, been conferred on the courts, it is not the very same power that was taken away from the legislature. Judges are not empowered to do what the legislature could previously do, i.e. make laws that suppress a religion. In the new world, no one has that power anymore (subject to extreme situations or whatever). The citizens are free to believe, worship, etc., as they wish, knowing that the state has no power to suppress their religion even if it wants to. If the legislature enacts a law that attempts to do so, the citizens can challenge it in the courts. The judges are then simply adjudicating between the rights of the state and those of the citizens making the challenge. They may, alas, occasionally err - and end up letting some laws through in ways that are open to criticism. They may even err the other way. After all, the cases they are actually likely to be confronted with will probably be borderline ones, especially at the highest judicial levels. But they have no power to initiate and enact such laws themselves.
So, there is no power that has been transferred from the legislature to the judges. A (huge and dangerous) power has been taken away from the legislature, but the effect is to give the citizens an enhanced area of freedom from government power. Yes, the judges have a new jurisdiction, or function, or you can call it a "power" if you want, but it is no more than the "power" to do what they are trained to do, i.e. adjudicate the rights of the parties who appear before them in court. Those rights are found in legal instruments that may conflict - they are not created by judges. To say that power has been taken from the legislature and given to unelected judges is an incredibly misleading way of representing the situation. To see this, you don't have to believe that judges are infallible.
In short, we have a meme whose power to propagate itself is far out of proportion to the small grain of truth that lies somewhere in its vicinity.
Although I've analysed this at some length - and could do so at far greater length still to introduce appropriate caveats and so on - the gist of it should be obvious. I hope most people instinctively understand that the language I am objecting to is a kind of trick, but judging by its popularity I guess that's a forlorn hope. Sigh.
Take a situation where a constitutional Bill of Rights provides that the legislature may enact no law suppressing a religious viewpoint. Perhaps there's an override clause that such laws may be enacted if demonstrably necessary in a free and democratic society ... just in case we find ourselves threatened by a bunch of neo-Aztec fanatics who want to use the rest of us for human sacrifices, and the practical point is reached where we have no choice but to send in the army to try to suppress the entire cult. But imagine that, subject to the override clause, the legislature doesn't have power to go around enacting laws to suppress particular religions (or religion in general, or viewpoints that are sceptical about religion). Imagine that it would have this power, but for the particular constitutional provision.
Now, has the constitutional provision taken power from the legislature and given it to unelected judges? Well, perhaps in a contrived sense. It has certainly taken power from the legislature: the legislature no longer has the power to suppress religious viewpoints (except in certain pressing circumstances). Arguably, the provision has also given power to the courts: after all, they now have the power to strike down laws that are made beyond the power of the legislature in the relevant respect. If the override clause exists (or if something like it is considered to be implicit) courts may also need to consider whether, in the circumstances, a certain law really is demonstrably required, etc.
Still with me?
Then note that the power given to the court is merely that of ascertaining when a law has overstepped the line and when it hasn't. The court adjudicates this against a superior law, namely the constitutional provision. But this is exactly the sort of exercise that judges carry out all the time, and that they are trained for: interpreting laws, teasing out situations of inconsistency between laws, determining which prevails in the case of inconsistency, and so on. I actually like the idea that this task is delegated to highly-trained and (usually) highly-skilled professionals.
And also note this: while a power has, in a sense, been conferred on the courts, it is not the very same power that was taken away from the legislature. Judges are not empowered to do what the legislature could previously do, i.e. make laws that suppress a religion. In the new world, no one has that power anymore (subject to extreme situations or whatever). The citizens are free to believe, worship, etc., as they wish, knowing that the state has no power to suppress their religion even if it wants to. If the legislature enacts a law that attempts to do so, the citizens can challenge it in the courts. The judges are then simply adjudicating between the rights of the state and those of the citizens making the challenge. They may, alas, occasionally err - and end up letting some laws through in ways that are open to criticism. They may even err the other way. After all, the cases they are actually likely to be confronted with will probably be borderline ones, especially at the highest judicial levels. But they have no power to initiate and enact such laws themselves.
So, there is no power that has been transferred from the legislature to the judges. A (huge and dangerous) power has been taken away from the legislature, but the effect is to give the citizens an enhanced area of freedom from government power. Yes, the judges have a new jurisdiction, or function, or you can call it a "power" if you want, but it is no more than the "power" to do what they are trained to do, i.e. adjudicate the rights of the parties who appear before them in court. Those rights are found in legal instruments that may conflict - they are not created by judges. To say that power has been taken from the legislature and given to unelected judges is an incredibly misleading way of representing the situation. To see this, you don't have to believe that judges are infallible.
In short, we have a meme whose power to propagate itself is far out of proportion to the small grain of truth that lies somewhere in its vicinity.
Although I've analysed this at some length - and could do so at far greater length still to introduce appropriate caveats and so on - the gist of it should be obvious. I hope most people instinctively understand that the language I am objecting to is a kind of trick, but judging by its popularity I guess that's a forlorn hope. Sigh.
Monday, December 22, 2008
I feel sorry for Frank Brennan
Okay, I've been nasty about the choice of a Catholic priest to head up a consultation into the protection of human rights in Australia. The choice worries me because the Roman Catholic Church takes many stances that are in opposition to human rights (however defined). Currently, it is opposing a UN resolution against what should, on any definition of the term, be considered a crime against humanity: the use of the criminal law to persecute homosexuals. The Church hierarchs claim that they do oppose the criminalisation of homosexuality, but they fear pressure for acceptance of gay marriage.
I hardly know where to start with that kind of reasoning - surely there is a huge gap between the state ceasing to persecute homosexuals with criminal laws (with the death penalty attached to them in seven countries!) and the state going further and recognising particular kinds of intimate relationships as "marriages". Indeed, my own position is that the state should, ideally, get out of the marriage business altogether and simply provide adequate laws for the protection of children and the distribution of property when relationships involving mingled property rights break up. Meanwhile, and subject to such exceptional issues as people knowingly putting each other at risk of contracting the HIV virus, all sexual conduct between consenting adults or sufficiently mature minors should be perfectly legal.
Brennan himself is on the record as saying that heterosexuality is preferable to homosexuality - or at least he would prefer his friends to have a heterosexual orientation - but let's give the man some credit. He also favours gays having strong rights to protect them from state persecution. His position on all this leaves a fair bit to be desired, but it's about as mild as possible for someone who does not actually wish to leave the Church, and I must always remind myself that (genuinely) moderate religionists are not my enemies even if I think they are sadly mistaken on important issues.
Unfortunately, Brennan also manages to find ways to deprecate the importance of free speech, to oppose the availability of euthanasia, and to limit abortion rights (though even here his view appears to be quite moderate, at least by the standards of Catholic religionists).
Overall, he deserves respect as a person of intellect and good will. It's unfortunate that his commitment to the teachings of the Church biases him in certain directions, but he is no religious fanatic or narrow dogmatist. His general approach is very far from that of other prominent Catholics in Australia such as George Pell. Let's cut him at least a bit of slack.
I've been criticising him as someone who opposes a constitutionally-entrenched Bill of Rights, something I have long supported (though I would want it to focus tightly on guarding our fundamental freedoms, such as freedom of speech, not to give us Orwellian "rights" to have the government control us for our own good or to protect us from being "offended" by other people's free speech ... my main worry about a Bill of Rights is that it could end up being a horribly wrong Bill of Rights).
I do stand by this criticism of Frank Brennan. It seems anomalous and unsafe that Australia does not have broad constitutional protection of rights as fundamental as the right to freedom of speech. The limited constitutional protection of free speech that we do have is not justified by principle and is far too narrow. To me, Brennan is too dismissive of the value of a Bill of Rights, and his arguments against, in particular, constitutional entrenchment of freedom of speech strike me as far-fetched and contrived. Still, this may not matter in practical reality because I accept that there is no prospect of obtaining an amendment to insert entrenched and enumerated rights in the Australian Constitution. In the real world, we need to look for other approaches, at least for now.
Which brings me to why I feel sorry for Brennan. He can't win. While I berate him on this blog for his settled opposition to constitutionally-entrenched rights, he is continually attacked from the political Right as a proponent of mechanisms (such as a non-entrenched charter) that would give some additional protections to our rights. The way The Australian carries on, you'd think this gentle, rather conservative, but reasonably open-minded, religious scholar was some kind of raving zealot dedicated to undermining the constitutional order. Give it a rest, guys!
Meanwhile, I'm planning to spend much of the Australian summer working on a detailed submission (I'm envisaging 20,000 words or so) to Brennan's human rights consultation. This will be tersely-argued, and could easily be loosened up and expanded into a book (though I have no idea who would publish it). I'm groping my way to some thoughts about what rights need protection and how this might best be done short of a constitutional amendment. I'm not a big fan of non-entrenched charters, since they can be overridden so easily, but perhaps they have their place. Anyway, I welcome your ideas.
I hardly know where to start with that kind of reasoning - surely there is a huge gap between the state ceasing to persecute homosexuals with criminal laws (with the death penalty attached to them in seven countries!) and the state going further and recognising particular kinds of intimate relationships as "marriages". Indeed, my own position is that the state should, ideally, get out of the marriage business altogether and simply provide adequate laws for the protection of children and the distribution of property when relationships involving mingled property rights break up. Meanwhile, and subject to such exceptional issues as people knowingly putting each other at risk of contracting the HIV virus, all sexual conduct between consenting adults or sufficiently mature minors should be perfectly legal.
Brennan himself is on the record as saying that heterosexuality is preferable to homosexuality - or at least he would prefer his friends to have a heterosexual orientation - but let's give the man some credit. He also favours gays having strong rights to protect them from state persecution. His position on all this leaves a fair bit to be desired, but it's about as mild as possible for someone who does not actually wish to leave the Church, and I must always remind myself that (genuinely) moderate religionists are not my enemies even if I think they are sadly mistaken on important issues.
Unfortunately, Brennan also manages to find ways to deprecate the importance of free speech, to oppose the availability of euthanasia, and to limit abortion rights (though even here his view appears to be quite moderate, at least by the standards of Catholic religionists).
Overall, he deserves respect as a person of intellect and good will. It's unfortunate that his commitment to the teachings of the Church biases him in certain directions, but he is no religious fanatic or narrow dogmatist. His general approach is very far from that of other prominent Catholics in Australia such as George Pell. Let's cut him at least a bit of slack.
I've been criticising him as someone who opposes a constitutionally-entrenched Bill of Rights, something I have long supported (though I would want it to focus tightly on guarding our fundamental freedoms, such as freedom of speech, not to give us Orwellian "rights" to have the government control us for our own good or to protect us from being "offended" by other people's free speech ... my main worry about a Bill of Rights is that it could end up being a horribly wrong Bill of Rights).
I do stand by this criticism of Frank Brennan. It seems anomalous and unsafe that Australia does not have broad constitutional protection of rights as fundamental as the right to freedom of speech. The limited constitutional protection of free speech that we do have is not justified by principle and is far too narrow. To me, Brennan is too dismissive of the value of a Bill of Rights, and his arguments against, in particular, constitutional entrenchment of freedom of speech strike me as far-fetched and contrived. Still, this may not matter in practical reality because I accept that there is no prospect of obtaining an amendment to insert entrenched and enumerated rights in the Australian Constitution. In the real world, we need to look for other approaches, at least for now.
Which brings me to why I feel sorry for Brennan. He can't win. While I berate him on this blog for his settled opposition to constitutionally-entrenched rights, he is continually attacked from the political Right as a proponent of mechanisms (such as a non-entrenched charter) that would give some additional protections to our rights. The way The Australian carries on, you'd think this gentle, rather conservative, but reasonably open-minded, religious scholar was some kind of raving zealot dedicated to undermining the constitutional order. Give it a rest, guys!
Meanwhile, I'm planning to spend much of the Australian summer working on a detailed submission (I'm envisaging 20,000 words or so) to Brennan's human rights consultation. This will be tersely-argued, and could easily be loosened up and expanded into a book (though I have no idea who would publish it). I'm groping my way to some thoughts about what rights need protection and how this might best be done short of a constitutional amendment. I'm not a big fan of non-entrenched charters, since they can be overridden so easily, but perhaps they have their place. Anyway, I welcome your ideas.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Check out Jenny's website
She's given her site a general update, including the final cover art for The Priestess and the Slave (quite different from, and even better than, the cover that was used for the advance reading copies).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)