Evan Selinger, a super-sharp philosopher of technology up at the Rochester Institute of Technology, is always alerting me to interesting new essays and articles and this week he brought another important piece to my attention. It’s a short new article by Arturo Casadevall, Don Howard, and Michael J. Imperiale, entitled, “The Apocalypse as a Rhetorical Device in the Influenza Virus Gain-of-Function Debate.” The essay touches on something near and dear to my own heart: the misuse of rhetoric in debates over the risk trade-offs associated with new technology and inventions. Casadevall, Howard, and Imperiale seek to “focus on the rhetorical devices used in the debate [over infectious disease experiments] with the hope that an analysis of how the arguments are being framed can help the discussion.”

They note that “humans are notoriously poor at assessing future benefits and risks” and that this makes many people susceptible to rhetorical ploys based on the artificial inflation of risks. Their particular focus in this essay is the debate over so-called “gain-of-function” (GOF) experiments involving influenza virus, but what they have to say here about how rhetoric is being misused in that field is equally applicable to many other fields of science and the policy debates surrounding various issues. The last two paragraphs of their essay are masterful and deserve everyone’s attention:

Who has the upper hand in the GOF debate? The answer to this question will be apparent only when the history of this time is written. However, it is possible that in the near future, arguments about risk will trump arguments about benefits, because the risk of a GOF experiment unleashing a devastating epidemic plays on a well-founded human fear, while the potential benefits of the research are considerably harder to articulate. In debates about benefits and risks, arguments based on positing extreme risks, however unlikely, are powerful rhetorical devices because they play into human fears. While we all agree that the risk of a GOF experiment unleashing a deadly epidemic is not zero, such an event would be at the extreme end of the likely outcomes from GOF experimentation. Arguing against GOF on the basis of pandemic dangers is a powerful rhetorical device because anyone can understand it. The problem with the use of apocalyptic scenarios in risk-benefit analysis is that they invoke the possibility for infinite suffering, irrespective of the probability of such an event, and the prospect of infinite suffering can potentially overwhelm any good obtained from knowledge gained from such experiments. Repeatedly invoking the apocalypse can create a sophistry that we call the apocalyptic fallacy, which, when applied in a vacuum of evidence and theory, proposes consequences that are so dire, however low the probability, that this tactic can be employed to quash any new invention, technique, procedures, and/or policy. The apocalyptic fallacy is an effective rhetorical tool that is meaningless in the absence of objective numbers. We remind those who invoke the apocalypse that the DNA revolution went on to deliver a multitude of benefits without unleashing the fears of Asilomar and that the large hadron collider was turned on, the Higgs boson was discovered, the standard model in physics was validated, and we are still here. Hence, we caution individuals against overreliance on the apocalypse in the debates ahead, for rhetoric can win the day, but rhetoric never gave us a single medical advance.

This is spot-on and, again, has applicability in many other arenas. Indeed, it aligns quite nicely with what I had to say about the use and misuse of rhetoric in information technology debates in my recent law review article on “Technopanics, Threat Inflation, and the Danger of an Information Technology Precautionary Principle” (Minnesota Journal of Law, Science and Technology, Vol. 14, No. 1, Winter 2013). In that piece, I began by noting that:

Fear is an extremely powerful motivational force. In public policy debates, appeals to fear are often used in an attempt to sway opinion or bolster the case for action. Such appeals are used to convince citizens that  threats to individual or social well-being may be avoided only if specific steps are taken. Often these steps take the form of anticipatory regulation based on the precautionary principle. Such “fear appeal arguments” are frequently on display in the Internet policy arena and often take the form of a fullblown “moral panic” or “technopanic.”  These panics are intense public, political, and academic responses to the emergence or use of media or technologies, especially by the young.  In the extreme, they result in regulation or censorship. While cyberspace has its fair share of troubles and troublemakers, there is no evidence that the Internet is leading to greater problems for society than previous technologies did. That has not stopped some from suggesting there are reasons to be particularly fearful of the Internet and new digital technologies. There are various individual and institutional factors at work that perpetuate fear-based reasoning and tactics.

I continued on to document the structure of “fear appeal” arguments, and then outlined how those arguments can be deconstructed and refuted using sound analysis and real-world evidence. The logic pattern behind fear appeal arguments looks something like this (as documented by Douglas Walton, in his outstanding textbook, Fundamentals of Critical Argumentation):

• Fearful Situation Premise: Here is a situation that is fearful to you.
• Conditional Premise: If you carry out A, then the negative consequences portrayed in this fearful situation will happen to you.
• Conclusion: You should not carry out A.

In the field of rhetoric and argumentation, this logic pattern is referred to as argumentum in terrorem or argumentum ad metum. A closely related variant of this argumentation scheme is known as argumentum ad baculum, or an argument based on a threat. Argumentum ad baculum literally means “argument to the stick,” and the logic pattern in this case looks like this (again, according to Walton’s book on the subject):

• Conditional Premise: If you do not bring about A, then consequence B will occur.
• Commitment Premise: I commit myself to seeing to it that B will come about.
• Conclusion: You should bring about A.

The problem is that these logic patterns and rhetorical devices are logical fallacies or are based on outright myths. Once you start carefully unpacking arguments based on this logic pattern and applying reasoned, evidenced-based analysis, you can quickly show why the premise is not valid.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop some people (including a great many policymakers) from utilizing such faulty logic or misguided rhetorical devices. Even worse, as I note in my paper, is that,

fear appeals are facilitated by the use of threat inflation. Specifically, threat inflation involves the use of fear-inducing rhetoric to inflate artificially the potential harm a new development or technology poses to certain classes of the population, especially children, or to society or the economy at large. These rhetorical flourishes are empirically false or at least greatly blown out of proportion relative to the risk in question.

I then go on for many pages in my paper to document the use of fear appeals and threat inflation in a variety of information technology debates. I show that in every case where such tactics are common, they are unjustified once the evidence is evaluated dispassionately.  Regrettably, those who employ fear tactics and use threat inflation often don’t care because they know exactly what they are doing: The use of apocalyptic rhetoric grabs attention and sometimes ends serious deliberation. It is often an intentional ploy to scare people into action (or perhaps just into silence), even if that result is not based on a reasoned, level-headed evaluation of all the facts on hand.

The lesson here is simple: The ends do not justify the means. No matter how passionately you feel about a particular policy issue — even those that you perhaps believe potentially involve life and death ramifications — it is wise to avoid the use of apocalyptic rhetoric. Generally speaking, the sky is not falling and when one insists that it is, they should be backing up their assertions with a substantial body of evidence. Otherwise, they are just using fear appeal arguments and apocalyptic rhetoric to unnecessarily scare people and end all serious debate over issues that are likely far more complex and nuanced than their rhetoric suggests.

[For all my essays on “technopanics,” moral panics, and threat inflation, see this compendium I have assembled.]

I’m at the mid-point of an online debate hosted by the Economist.com on the proposition: “This house believes that governments must do far more to protect online privacy.”

I’m on the “No” side. In my opening statement, I tried to give some definition to the many problems referred to as “privacy,” and I argued for personal responsibility on the part of Internet users. I even gave out instructions for controlling cookies, by which people can deny ad networks their most common source of consumer demographic information if they wish. Concluding, I said:

Government “experts” should not dictate social rules. Rather, interactions among members of the internet community should determine the internet’s social and business norms.

In the “rebuttal” stage, which started today, I dedicated most of my commentary to documenting how governments undermine privacy—and I barely scratched the surface.

Along with surveillance program after surveillance program, I discussed how government biases protocols and technologies against privacy, using the Social Security number as an example. I don’t know what syndrome causes many privacy advocates to seek protection in the arms of governments, which are systematic and powerful privacy abusers themselves.

Nonetheless, I’m opposing the “free lunch” argument, which holds that a group of government experts can come up with neutral and balanced, low-cost solutions to many different online problems without thwarting innovation. Right now the voting is with the guy offering people the free lunch, not the guy arguing for consumer education and personal responsibility.

You can vote here.

My Kid is the Man of Steel! ... in his mind.

Regular readers will recall my great interest in video games and the public policy debates surrounding efforts to regulate “violent” games in particular. One thing I bring up in almost every essay I write on this subject is how fears about kids and video games are almost always overblown and that kids can typically separate fantasy from reality. Nonetheless, kids have active imaginations and adults sometimes fear that which they cannot understand or appreciate.  Friendly mentoring and open-minding parenting can go a long way to encouraging kids to make smart choices and understand where to draw lines, whereas efforts to demonize video games and youth culture almost always backfire.

Anyway, what got me thinking about all this again was an entertaining column in today’s Washington Post by Ron Stanley (“Who Needs a TV to Play Video Games“), which describes the author’s experiences with his nephew when they played out video game-like scenarios using traditional toys and household items. It’s a wonderful piece worth reading in its entirety, but here’s the key takeaway that I’d like to discuss:

There was no evidence that television and video games had stifled the kids’ creativity. Nor was there any evidence that technology had made them smarter than earlier generations. They simply had a different frame of reference, one that included video games and computers as well as ponies, pet stores and sword fights. Children play with the tools at hand, and they’re great at thinking metaphorically — at imagining that a landspeeder is a sentient robot or that a stick is a gun or that salt-and-pepper shakers are a bride and groom or that a card table is a horse’s stable. They’re also geniuses at figuring out simple mechanics. My 6-year-old nephew had to explain to me that miniature low-rider cars don’t roll very well on carpet and will flip over more than if racing on hardwood floors. Novice that I was, I was choosing cars that looked the coolest. And they are geniuses at intuiting rules and systems, and at re-creating these rules and systems in their own play. Children who play lots of card games will invent their own card games. Children who play lots of board games will invent their own board games. And children who play lots of video games will invent their own video-game-like games when they don’t have access to the game controllers.

What Stanley was discovering with his nephew is that (1) kids have rich imaginations and love play-acting and just being creative, and (2) video games have become part of the new narrative of adolescent play-acting and creativity. Kids adapt and learn to cope with new cultural and technological realities; often much quicker than their parents. More importantly, much of their play-acting, including that in which they play out “violent” scenarios, is an entirely natural part of childhood.

Henry Jenkins has done some brilliant work on this front, and the new book Grand Theft Childhood by Kutner and Olson is also essential reading in this regard [my lengthy review is here]. But the best thing every written on this subject is Killing Monsters: Why Children Need Fantasy, Super-Heroes, and Make-Believe Violence, by Gerald Jones. It is a masterpiece, and I wish every parent and policymaker in America could read it before they propose the regulation of video games. As Jones correctly notes, “Video games are most threatening to adults who have seen images of them but never tried to play them.” He continues:

One of the functions of stories and games is to help children rehearse for what they’ll be in later life. Anthropologists and psychologists who study play, however, have shown that there are many other functions as well–one of which is to enable children to pretend to be just what they know they’ll never be. Exploring, in a safe and controlled context, what is impossible or too dangerous or forbidden to them is a crucial tool in accepting the limits of reality. Playing with rage is a valuable way to reduce its power. Being evil and destructive in imagination is a vital compensation for the wildness we all have to surrender on our way to being good people.

And “playing with rage” is exactly what we old farts were doing as kids too when we played (politically incorrect) games like “Cowboys and Indians” or countless other games that involved toy guns, cap guns, slingshots, bows-and-arrows, and the like. Of course, my generation gradually traded in our BB guns and slingshots for digital equivalents as video games came on the scene. And that was probably a good thing since, as Ralphie’s mom always warned us, “You’ll shoot your eye out” with those things!)

Bottom line: Cultures and the nature of childhood play-acting fantasies may change, but what will never change is the fact that kids need their fantasies. This is why I get down on my knees every night with my two kids and “play monster” with them. I stuff pillows in my shirt and let them bop me good as my dog and I chase them around and try to put them in “the dungeon” (which is usually a laundry basket or cardboard box). The X-Mas season is always great because we have a ton of those left-over cardboard tubes from wrapping paper, which still make the best toy swords. The game typically ends after Dad gets tired of getting bopped and plays “dead” so that the kids can declare victory and return to their castle and go to bed. But lately we’ve been playing video games together that play out in similar ways. (Lego Star Wars and Little Big Planet are big hits in our house currently.)

In the end, it’s just a different sort of fantasy. And they need all of them to become well-functioning adults. As Judge Richard Posner argued in his tour-de-force opinion in the 2000 case of American Amusement Machine Association v. Kendrick:

“Self-defense, protection of others, dread of the ‘undead,’ fighting against overwhelming odds—these are all age-old themes of literature, and ones particularly appealing to the young.” … “To shield children right up to the age of 18 from exposure to violent descriptions and images would not only be quixotic, but deforming; it would leave them unequipped to cope with the world as we know it.” … “People are unlikely to become well-functioning, independent-minded adults and responsible citizens if they are raised in an intellectual bubble.”

Exactly. Why can’t others see this?

Incidentally, I should mention that I just bought my son his first set of boxing gloves and a punching bag for a Christmas present. I’m going to let him beat up the bag a little to give my belly and head a rest!

This afternoon at the New America Foundation, Jonathan Zittrain and I engaged in a spirited debate about his provocative new book, The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It. As always, Jonathan gave an us an interesting and highly entertaining show, and it was a great honor for me to be given the opportunity to provide some feedback about his book. I’ve been quite critical of the thesis that Jonathan sets forth in his book, and I have discussed my reservations in a lengthy book review and a series of follow-up essays here and elsewhere. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5).

Jonathan opens with about 45 minutes of remarks and I come into the conversation around the 49 mark of the video. Michael Calabrese of NAF also has some comments about Jonathan’s book after I speak and then there is some interaction with the audience.

Well, I actually didn’t exactly get a chance to say quite enough for this to qualify as much of a “debate,” but I was brought in roughly a half hour into this WBUR (Boston NPR affiliate) radio show featuring Jonathan Zittrain, author of the recently released: The Future of the Internet–And How to Stop It. Jonathan was kind enough to suggest to the producers that I might make a good respondent to push back a bit in opposition to the thesis set forth in his new book.

Jonathan starts about 6 minutes into the show and they bring me in around 29 minutes in. Although I only got about 10 minutes to push back, I thought the show’s host Tom Ashbrook did an excellent job raising many of the same questions I do in my 3-part review (Part 1, 2, 3) of Jonathan’s provocative book.

In the show, I stress the same basic points I made in those reviews: (1) he seems to be over-stating things quite a bit in saying that the old “generative” Internet is “dying”; and in doing so, (2) he creates a false choice of possible futures from which we must choose. What I mean by false choice is that Jonathan doesn’t seem to believe a hybrid future is possible or desirable. I see no reason why we can’t have the best of both worlds–-a world full of plenty of tethered appliances, but also plenty of generativity and openness.

If you’re interested, listen in.