"Occasionally a line of gray cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest..."

"... and immediately the ash-gray men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight."

Yesterday, I told you I'd heard myself mutter "ah, there's a great gatsby sentence," and I'd wondered if I'd said "a 'Great Gatsby' sentence" or "a great 'Gatsby' sentence." I told you it was a doozy... a daisy. And now, it's today, and that's the sentence. Isn't it quite something?

A spooky gray, ghastly, ash-gray, swarming, leaden, impenetrable, obscure thing happens. We see... that we can't see it. It's invisible, out of sight, obscure,  screened, clouded, and impenetrable. So much about unseen sights and the one — only one — sound, a ghastly creak. What's going on? It's an operation, done with shovels. An obscure operation.

Occasionally an Obscure Operation. You can use that for the title of your next novel.

"I have his form of synesthesia, and having watched the video I was impressed by how effectively he conveyed the experience."

"In listening to a piece of music (or playing one) the colors sometimes cycle through very quickly, and sometimes cycle very slowly. I don't "see" them with my eyes, the way the video changes color. Instead, I 'see' the colors with my mind's eye."

Are Pennsylvania hunters upset about the boom in natural gas drilling in the state?

Katharine Seelye deploys some purple prose to help NYT readers think that they are.

STATE GAME LAND 59, Pa. — For those who have ever stalked deer, turkey and bear here in “God’s Country” in north central Pennsylvania, this hunting season is like no other.

God's Country? Yeah, that's the way the folk talk out there in State Game Land 59, Pennsylvania.

For one thing, it is louder. The soundtrack of birds chirping, thorns scraping against a hunter’s brush pants and twigs crunching underfoot is now accompanied by the dull roar of compressor stations and the chugging of big trucks up these hills.

This sounds like one of those NPR reports with a soft-voiced radioman crunching through the leaves.

The Marcellus Shale, a vast reserve of natural gas lies beneath some of this state’s most prized game lands. And now, more and more drills are piercing the hunting grounds. Nine wells have cropped up on this one game land of roughly 7,000 wooded acres in Potter County, and permits have been issued for 19 more.

7,000 wooded acres! Oh my gosh! That's half the size of Manhattan! Before long, what will be left of Pennsylvania?

An old dirt road that meandered up a ridge here has been widened and fortified. Acres of aspen, maple and cherry trees have been cut. In their place is an industrial encampment of rigs, pipes and water-storage ponds, all to support the extraction of natural gas through the process of hydraulic fracturing, known as fracking.

Acres of the most beautiful possible trees that people in NYC are capable of picturing. Aspen! Maple! Cherry! Replaced by — God help us! — industrial equipment! Oh, noooo! We had our heart set on thinking about you Pennsylvania rural types as rust-belters.

Remember Barack Obama, campaigning for President, back in 2008? He said, speaking to elites in San Francisco:

"You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them... And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."

Somehow these communities are gonna regenerate... and now, they are regenerating. They've got a fabulous boom in the works. But the NYT would like us to think that the boom is mussing up the old hunting grounds? There's machinery grinding and clanking making it harder to hear the crunch of fallen leaves!

“Who wants to go into their deer stand in the predawn darkness and listen to a compressor station?” lamented Bob Volkmar, 63, an environmental scientist who went grouse hunting the other day through these noisy autumnal woods. “It kind of ruins the experience.”

Volkmar is a hunter, yes, but he's also an an environmental scientist. That is, he's got a pretty sweet job. What does the average Pennsylvania hunter think? Isn't he stoked about the economic development and the potential for good jobs for lots of Pennsylvanians? And doesn't he know plenty of alternative hunting grounds?

"We've got better vision. We've got better ideas. We've got real plans. And we've got better hair."

Flashback to 2004. Remember when John Kerry said that... about himself and John Edwards? I wonder what the best hair combination is among the current group of Republicans... and if Obama ought to oust Biden and go with Hillary for a hair upgrade.

Radiating all the vigour and enthusiasm Kerry had surgically removed at birth, the honey-toned Edwards found himself adored by the media for his "two Americas" stump speech, a Disraelian portrait of Dickensian gloom conjured in the tones of a Depression-era sob-sister.

Ha ha. I came up with a Mark Steyn column when I Googled for what I was looking for:

Even if you have never heard it, you know how it goes: there's one America where Dick Cheney's oil buddies are swigging down Martinis and toasting their war profits; but there's another America where "tonight a 10-year-old little girl will go to bed hungry, hoping and praying that tomorrow will not be as cold as today because she doesn't have the coat to keep her warm".

Oh, what a huckster that John Edwards was!

I embarked on that Google search as I was writing the previous post, disapproving of reasoning/arguing with empathetic anecdotes. I thought it might help you, as you steel yourself against the political rhetoric that comes in the form of anecdotes, to remember that disgraced prettyboy John Edwards and his 2-Americas mascot, the (nonexistent) coatless little girl.

I've been writing about the shortcomings of the human imagination as we get hung up on one thing — such as a person in the room pleading with us — and neglect to think about all the people who aren't here in our presence. But when politicians use anecdotes, they merely paint a picture for us to see in our minds, and the thing that we fail to see may be more real in the world than what's painted in that picture, such as Edwards's nonexistent coatless little girl.

There must be a little girl, you were supposed to think, because her story is specific. She's 10-years-old and I see her there, kneeling by the side of the bed, and it's a cold night. 

You can see it — the unseeable nonentity — in your imagination. The anecdote-purveyor clogs up your head with phony pictures. Fight the fake little 10-year old that the ultra-fake politician would use to gum up the imaginative mechanisms of your mind. Feel the oiliness of the fakery as it lubricates those mechanisms, and visualize the things they'd prefer to be left unseen.

Rick Perry's admirable eschewal of anecdotal argument about the HPV vaccine.

Arlette Saenz, at ABC News, reports:

Months after the Texas state legislature revoked [his executive order requiring young girls receive the HPV vaccine, Governor Rick] Perry expressed in very personal terms the potential the HPV vaccine holds for preventing cervical cancer in young women. Perry spoke of the missed opportunity of the Texas government at a memorial service for Heather Burcham, a 31-year-old woman who died from cervical cancer after contracting HPV.

“Though some could not see the benefits of the HPV vaccine through the prism of politics, some day they will,” Perry said in July 2007. “Someday they will recognize that this could happen to anyone’s daughter, even their own. Someday they will respond with compassion when they once responded with ignorance. And, someday, they will come to a place where they recognize the paramount issue is whether we will choose life, and protect life, without regard to what mistakes, if any, have been made in the past.”

Perry and Burcham, a teacher from Houston, Texas, struck up an unusual friendship in the months after he issued his executive order.... Despite the legislature’s decision to revoke the executive order, Perry befriended Burcham. In the final months of her life, the two took a motorcycle ride together and spent a weekend at a ranch with her friends at the governor’s invitation.

In the final days before her death, Perry even sat at her deathbed, a moment he has described on the campaign trail.  ”I sat on the side of a bed of a young lady, and she was dying from cervical cancer, and it had an impact on me.”

It's important to note that Perry's decision to use an executive order to impose the vaccine requirement — which he now calls a mistake — did not come as a result of his experience knowing Burcham. He met her after that happened. I would criticize him if he was the sort of executive decisionmaker who reacts to the vivid story of one victim. How effective is the solution you're adopting? How does it affect everyone that your imposing it on? How many other victims are likely to be spared? You have to look at the big whole picture if you're making policy, and you can't have the sort of mind that fixates on one person, feels deep empathy, and wields governmental power to do something... right now.

In fact, Perry showed a propensity to think about matters at a higher level of reasoned generality when he was challenged, at the debate, to explain his executive order. I think many politicians, in that situation, would begin with the compelling story of Heather Burcham. He said:

And at the end of the day, this was about trying to stop a cancer and giving the parental option to opt out of that. And at the end of the day, you may criticize me about the way that I went about it, but at the end of the day, I am always going to err on the side of life. And that's what this was really all about for me. 

Life. He could have said: This is about Heather Burcham. Let me tell you about Heather Burcham... I can hear Ronald Reagan or Bill Clinton or Barack Obama or any number of other highly successful politics moving smoothly into that line of persuasion. Maybe Perry is just less slick, less smart. But I think it's interesting that he doesn't seem have the instinct for anecdotal reasoning.

Anecdotal reasoning is a manifestation of the human tendency to weigh the seen over the unseen. Yes, it's a terrible thing that a a 31-year-old woman died from cervical cancer caused by HPV. If she were dying right in front of you, maybe you would think, I swear I will do anything in my power to express my outrage at her death, but a mind that gets stuck in that mode can't be trusted making broad policy decisions and imposing requirements on all of us.

Consider Michele Bachmann, who famously emoted: "There’s a woman who came up crying to me tonight after the debate. She said her daughter was given that vaccine... She told me her daughter suffered mental retardation as a result. There are very dangerous consequences."

Well, that's just one instance of how Bachmann's mind processes information. It's the one we're seeing right now. I don't want to overweight one vivid bit of evidence, or I will exemplify the very kind of thinking I am trying to avoid.

How Dan Quayle got into law school through affirmative action — a controversy from 1988.

Perhaps you remember the challenges to Dan Quayle, who was the GOP VP nominee in 1988 (and later served as VP under George H.W. Bush):

[Quayle] was questioned about a report that he had been admitted to Indiana University Law School as part of a program designed for students whose grades and aptitude test scores were so low they would not have been admitted in the regular admission process....

Mr. Quayle acknowledged earlier that he had persuaded the dean to admit him despite poor grades at DePauw University in Greencastle, Ind....

Professor [Charles] Kelso said he did not remember Mr. Quayle and was certain that neither his family nor his wealth had played any role in his admission to the course.

I remember discussing this matter at the time, perhaps with another Wisconsin law professor. My interlocutor said that an applicant who shows up in person and makes a persuasive argument demonstrates a determination and skill that might justify admitting him to law school. These are qualities, seen in person, that might not appear in the cold numbers of the LSAT and the GPA and that are in fact relevant to the applicant's aptitude for lawyering.

I said: But what about everyone else who got rejected? If they had known there was another way to get in, they might have wanted to appear in person in front of the dean and show that they too were brimming with lawyerly promise unmeasured in standardized tests. If there is a second way to get in, there should be a competition there too. The dean who let Quayle in on alternate grounds may have seen value in the man who appeared before him, but did he fully visualize the others who might have presented themselves too? Was Quayle really the best of them? The dean had no way to know.

My interlocutor retrenched: If there is a secret backdoor route into the law school, the applicant who is able to find it has manifested a special skill that would be irrelevant if the school made it plain to all that there is an alternate admissions path that uses an interview with the dean. My interlocutor had to concede that there is no way the law school dean would put up with interviews with every rejected applicant who wanted to take the trouble to show up in Indianapolis to plead his case.

I said: So a law school should make a special point of admitting the guy who realizes the official process might not be the only way to get what you want and who has the nerve to decide that his personal interests transcend the importance of equal rules for all and to take up the time of a busy person (the dean) and to promote his individual case? Well, maybe that is the attitude a client wants from his lawyer, and maybe it's okay that their lawyer couldn't score well enough on the LSAT to get into Indiana.

But I couldn't accept the law school dean's failure to treat Dan Quayle like the other rejected applicants. I thought and still think that it was the moral failing of valuing the seen over the unseen. Quayle showed up in person: Here I am, see my worthiness! But all the other rejected applicants were human beings too. Imagine them, all of them, and what they might have argued in pursuit of their goals.

***

By chance, the linked article — which I dug out of the NYT archive — contains another seen-and-unseen issue:

Outside the plant about 150 protesters carried signs that said such things as ''Draft Dodger Quayle - Who Died in Your Place?'' - a reference to his decision to join the Indiana National Guard in the Vietnam War.

If you opposed the Vietnam War and evaded the draft, did you truly visualize the person who went in your place?

Things seen and unseen.

Instapundit linked my post about the morality of affirmative action:

THE MORALITY OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION: “The students at a university are always the students who were admitted. They feel hurt or outraged if they think the message is that they shouldn’t be here. They’re here, in the room, and the individuals who did not get in are not here to cry out with corresponding outrage. . . . The policy will only affect individuals who are not in the room, who are out there, just as the students who didn’t get in this year are out there. The difficult thing — and the true moral challenge — is to visualize those who are affected who are not in the room to express pain when you hurt them.”

Another case of what is seen and what is not seen. Politicians — among whose number I certainly count university presidents — advance their careers by exploiting the difference between the two.

He links to the essay "What Is Seen and What Is Not Seen," by the 19th century political economist Frédéric Bastiat, who begins:

In the economic sphere an act, a habit, an institution, a law produces not only one effect, but a series of effects. Of these effects, the first alone is immediate; it appears simultaneously with its cause; it is seen. The other effects emerge only subsequently; they are not seen; we are fortunate if we foresee them.

There is only one difference between a bad economist and a good one: the bad economist confines himself to the visible effect; the good economist takes into account both the effect that can be seen and those effects that must be foreseen.

My son John Cohen also quoted my seen-and-unseen comments, and he associated the general principle with the specific problem of capital punishment, quoting an article by Cass Sunstein and Adrian Vermeule called "Is Capital Punishment Morally Required?" In that context, statistics indicate that capital punishment has a deterrent effect, but the people who are not killed are, of course, never identified. What we see is the convicted person, with whom we may feel challenged to empathize, and the dead person, whom it is too late to save.

The phrase "seen and unseen" calls to mind the Nicene Creed:

We believe in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

I wonder if that was ever intended to refer to things that are unseen because they never happened, the alternate version of reality that would exist if we had made a different decision. But that is the moral problem I want to notice, and I will designate with a new tag "seen and unseen." I have 2 more things I want to talk about under that heading. One has to do with Rick Perry and the other has to do with Dan Quayle. But I'll put these in separate posts.

"How do you escape the notion that getting rid of affirmative action is white supremacy?"

2 UW-Madison students challenge Roger Clegg — the president of the Center for Equal Opportunity:



Like the clip in the previous post, this was recorded at a Federalist Society-sponsored debate on September 13th.

[Video shot and edited by me.]

ADDED: I want to say that, for me, the second questioner exemplifies a central problem for Clegg and his agenda. The students at a university are always the students who were admitted. They feel hurt or outraged if they think the message is that they shouldn't be here. They're here, in the room, and the individuals who did not get in are not here to cry out with corresponding outrage.

It reminds me of debates about abortion. Those who were aborted are never present in the room to express their perspective on the issue. The emotions of those who are not present may be expressed, vicariously, by others, but it's another matter entirely to say to human beings as they stand in your presence: Under my proposed policy — the only morally/constitutionally permissible approach — you  lose.

Now, I'm sure Clegg would try to find a way to say these students wouldn't lose. Under a race-blind approach to admissions, some of them would get in, and, if so, they won't be burdened by a stigma that, he would say, attached when race is taken into account. And, in any event, a switch to a color-blind approach would only take place prospectively, so it wouldn't affect any of these students, who got in under the existing policy, and no matter how illegal or immoral the policy is, they didn't design it. They played by the rules in effect at the time, and they won and deserve their prize.

The policy will only affect individuals who are not in the room, who are out there, just as the students who didn't get in this year are out there. The difficult thing — and the true moral challenge — is to visualize those who are affected who are not in the room to express pain when you hurt them.

AND: I don't know that Clegg's primary concern really is for the individuals whose applications were rejected but who would have gotten in under a race-blind approach. I think he expressed more concern for the harm done to the students who did get in, the ones who were in the room resisting his message. He was telling them, to their faces, that they were being stigmatized by affirmative action. In that light, the young woman's statement "You disrespected me" really is not such an inaccurate understanding of what he was saying. He was concerned about her, but it wasn't a kind of concern she appreciated.