I just finished Steven Teles’s important new book, The Rise of the Conservative Legal Movement. As far as legal nonfiction goes, this is not going to be the bestseller that Jeffrey Toobin’s or Jan Crawford Greenburg’s recent tomes on the Supreme Court have become, let alone Clarence Thomas’s memoirs. In part this is because more people are interested in the intense Kremlinology of the least public branch of government – the nine black-robed margistrates in their marble palace at One First Street — than in the nuts and bolts of the reaction to the left-wing excesses of the legal academy.
But more than that, this worthy study will fly under the radar more than it otherwise should because it is an academic book, written with the research methodology and citation practices of a social scientist investigating a particular phenomenon. It is to Teles’s great credit that he avoided (for the most part) the political science jargon in which such a project could have gotten swallowed, but a journalistic narrative this ain’t. Perhaps to even greater credit, Teles managed to write this book without once resorting to the often confusing and usually superfluous empirical models and regression analyses that are now demanded by practitioners of the “soft” sciences — probably because he already has tenure.
Teles ably takes us through the development of law and economics — the only way to get alternative voices into law schools resistant to anti-New Deal, anti-Warren Court views – and two generations of libertarian/conservative public interest law, as well as cataloguing the wealth of archival materials from what the Clintons considered the heart of the vast right-wing conspiracy, the Federalist Society. Curiously, the only mentions of Cato are in a footnote describing Charles Koch as one of our founders and a brief reference to my boss, Roger Pilon, “fuming in his Washington office when the [Harriet] Miers [Supreme Court] nomination was announced.”
In any event, I do recommend the book to those interested in the succsses, failures, and false starts of a broad movement to save the law — and consequently legal practice and the courts — from the radicalization that beset academia and public interest organizations in the 1960s. Is it better to set up law & econ outposts in hostile institutions (Yale, Harvard) or takeover law schools wholesale (George Mason)? Is it better to have businessmen (Mountain States Legal Foundation) or idealists (Institute for Justice) running a public interest litigation shop? What sorts of cases are best taken up by the likes of IJ so as to have maximum long-term effect on the legal culture? These are the sorts of questions Teles analyzes, providing some interesting answers and leaving, as one expects from an academic tract, room for further research.
[Cross-posted at Cato's blog.]
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Monday, April 7, 2008
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The Dream Palace of the Arabs
The latest book I consumed is Lebanese scholar Fouad Ajami's hauntingly masterful The Dream Palace of the Arabs. As one would expect from this author, this memoirish account of Arab intellectuals' attempt (and failure) over many years to bridge the gap between their native lands and the modern world is beautifully written and conceived. It tells of a generation's frustration at the stagnation and regress evident in the Arab world -- and the inability to come to grips with modernity and secularism.
Ajami paints the sad picture of Beirut's descent from the jewel of the Mediterranean to war-torn sect-ridden redoubt to home of a failed/puppet state. He showcases the Egyptian promise that keeps getting frustrated by the various false prophets of socialism, nationalism, and Islamism. He lingers over the disappointment of relations with the only successful country in the Middle East, Israel. (Think about it: In 60 years, Israel has come from literally nothing to a higher standard of living than much of the West, and done it on a tiny sliver of land boasting no natural resources.)
The overwhelming theme is disappointment and lost opportunities.
Ultimately, I am not deserving of this book. Not because it's too high brow, but because Arab culture just does not appeal to me in a way that, say, Mediterranean or Latin American culture does. I recognize and appreciate Ajami's lament, but don't identify with it as I do the equivalent refrains from a Borges or a Tornatore.
The Arabs have nobody to blame for their problems but themselves and, as with Operation Iraqi Freedom, they will ultimately have to solve them themselves, with the West (i.e., the civilized world) playing a role no greater than consigliere.
Ajami paints the sad picture of Beirut's descent from the jewel of the Mediterranean to war-torn sect-ridden redoubt to home of a failed/puppet state. He showcases the Egyptian promise that keeps getting frustrated by the various false prophets of socialism, nationalism, and Islamism. He lingers over the disappointment of relations with the only successful country in the Middle East, Israel. (Think about it: In 60 years, Israel has come from literally nothing to a higher standard of living than much of the West, and done it on a tiny sliver of land boasting no natural resources.)
The overwhelming theme is disappointment and lost opportunities.
Ultimately, I am not deserving of this book. Not because it's too high brow, but because Arab culture just does not appeal to me in a way that, say, Mediterranean or Latin American culture does. I recognize and appreciate Ajami's lament, but don't identify with it as I do the equivalent refrains from a Borges or a Tornatore.
The Arabs have nobody to blame for their problems but themselves and, as with Operation Iraqi Freedom, they will ultimately have to solve them themselves, with the West (i.e., the civilized world) playing a role no greater than consigliere.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Iraq, Inc.
It took me but a few hours to polish off a book that had much promise and was filled with dense, heavily reported detail, but was ultimately unsatisfying. Iraq, Inc., by Pratap Chatterjee of the anti-business watchdog group CorpWatch, purports to tell the tale of how nobody gained from the Iraq "occupation" except military contractors like Halliburton and Bechtel. (And how, surprise surprise, Dick Cheney ultimately profited/masterminded it all.)
It begins with a bizarre morality tale about Iraqi (or is it Indian/Pakistani) workers' lack of union rights -- so why were these people clamoring for the jobs again? -- and ends up in a dry litany of cost-overruns and inefficiencies.
OK, we get it: Halliburton, etc., engaged in some shady accounting practices. DoD turned a blind eye through a combination of incompetence and cronyism. And after it was all over (or as of the writing of the book), Iraq was still not rebuilt.
Problem is, all the bad stuff this conspiracy theorizing reveals -- and, to be sure, there was some unlawful accounting, as well as harm done by letting the perfect get in the way of the good -- pales in comparison to the policy mistakes detailed in the likes of Cobra II. If Paul Bremer hadn't disbanded the Iraqi army or disqualified all former Baathists from office, for example, would we really be complaining that Halliburton's subsidiary KBR (which still runs the DFACs here) double-billed for meals a couple of times? Or that it serves pork, which is, of course, offensive to Muslim sensibilities? (Actually, the latter I'm not sure we should care about even now.)
No, the book had promise, and some of its charges are perfectly valid, but its shrillness and obvious bias detracts from the point it's trying to make.
It begins with a bizarre morality tale about Iraqi (or is it Indian/Pakistani) workers' lack of union rights -- so why were these people clamoring for the jobs again? -- and ends up in a dry litany of cost-overruns and inefficiencies.
OK, we get it: Halliburton, etc., engaged in some shady accounting practices. DoD turned a blind eye through a combination of incompetence and cronyism. And after it was all over (or as of the writing of the book), Iraq was still not rebuilt.
Problem is, all the bad stuff this conspiracy theorizing reveals -- and, to be sure, there was some unlawful accounting, as well as harm done by letting the perfect get in the way of the good -- pales in comparison to the policy mistakes detailed in the likes of Cobra II. If Paul Bremer hadn't disbanded the Iraqi army or disqualified all former Baathists from office, for example, would we really be complaining that Halliburton's subsidiary KBR (which still runs the DFACs here) double-billed for meals a couple of times? Or that it serves pork, which is, of course, offensive to Muslim sensibilities? (Actually, the latter I'm not sure we should care about even now.)
No, the book had promise, and some of its charges are perfectly valid, but its shrillness and obvious bias detracts from the point it's trying to make.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
America's Empire Deficit
I finally finished Colossus, and highly recommend it. Niall Ferguson is both provocative and well-researched, timely and fundamental. The point is that when America gets involved in overseas adventures -- for whatever reason, from the most realist to the most humanitarian -- it inevitably acts like an empire. The sooner it admits this and takes on the role unapologetically, the greater its success can be.
The question, then, is how to organize the "nation-building" -- or, to avoid using the somewhat loaded word "nation," the reconstruction/development work. One view argues for expanding the military, developing more "civilian affairs" capacity. After all, we already have engineers of all sorts, lawyers, doctors, and all sorts of other professionals in the military. Building that capacity would take advantage of the military's existing command and control structure, and recognize that in this brave new world the army exists to run a place, not just make war.
I think that's a stop-gap, and an answer that perhaps works in Iraq's unique environment at this point in time (during a counterinsurgency when we don't have a large enough civilian capacity), but is not the correct structural solution. In fact, this is an easier call than the decision about the circumstances under which we should nation-build or whether to be in the business at all.
The British India Civil Service (ICS) is a good model for what we need, I think -- a civilian body ready to be mobilized as needed, a Peace Corps with teeth that would work in conjunction with the military. More on such a Civilian Response Readiness Corps (as was proposed in legislation sponsored last term) in future as I develop my thinking in consultation with the folks around me.
But one final point: Ferguson diagnoses three deficits "that together explain why the United States has been a less effective empire than its British predecessor." These deficits are 1) economic, 2) manpower, and 3) attention. Ferguson discounts the economic deficit (foreign debt, growing entitlement liabilities as Baby Boomers age, trade imbalance, etc.) because all other pretenders to the American throne would be harder hit if America falters. For example, it is the Chinese who are financing our consumption, and the Europeans are in much worse shape in terms of a graying population and unsustainable welfare state. I don't completely buy this, because the disturbing trend toward populism and protectionism could certainly plunge us into serious economic troubles, yielding even less taste for empire -- and who cares if the rest of the world comes with us?
To cure the manpower deficit Ferguson proposes enlisting immigrants, foreigners, and the unemployed. As I've said before, with somewhat of a bias given my own immigration situation, I'm all for creating a foreign legion. As for the other two categories, I think we're pretty much maxed out. The armed forces have already lowered their recruitment standards, and are offering quite attractive enlistment bonuses, so we're sopping up as much "excess labor capacity" as we can.
I agree with Ferguson, however, that the attention deficit, America's lack of will -- caused in part by the unforgiving political cycle -- restricts long-term strategic thinking. We are impatient for quick results and unwilling to engage in a long slog. That is, the Bush administration theory on transformation of the Middle East may be sound when considered over a minimum 50-year period, but short-term dynamics prevent us from engaging in the steps that would allow us to bear those long-term fruit. (This is perhaps similar to the Social Security debate, among others.)
As Ferguson puts it, the trouble with "an empire in denial" is that it makes two mistakes when it intervenes in troubled states' affairs. "The first may be to allocate insufficient resources to the nonmilitary aspects of the project. The second, and more serious, is to attempt economic and political transformation in an unrealistically short time frame." These two points help explain why our vastly powerful economy and extraordinary military capability has had such a disappointing record of regime change/restructuring.
Think about it: Of our interventions of the past century, only Germany, Japan, and Korea can be considered successful. What do those three engagements have in common? American troops are still there over 50 years later. Put another way, in 1945 who would you rather be, America's Third World ally (like the Philippines) or its enemy (Japan).
As Nietzsche said, it's all about the "will to power." Post-modern Europe has long lacked it; has America gone the same way?
The question, then, is how to organize the "nation-building" -- or, to avoid using the somewhat loaded word "nation," the reconstruction/development work. One view argues for expanding the military, developing more "civilian affairs" capacity. After all, we already have engineers of all sorts, lawyers, doctors, and all sorts of other professionals in the military. Building that capacity would take advantage of the military's existing command and control structure, and recognize that in this brave new world the army exists to run a place, not just make war.
I think that's a stop-gap, and an answer that perhaps works in Iraq's unique environment at this point in time (during a counterinsurgency when we don't have a large enough civilian capacity), but is not the correct structural solution. In fact, this is an easier call than the decision about the circumstances under which we should nation-build or whether to be in the business at all.
The British India Civil Service (ICS) is a good model for what we need, I think -- a civilian body ready to be mobilized as needed, a Peace Corps with teeth that would work in conjunction with the military. More on such a Civilian Response Readiness Corps (as was proposed in legislation sponsored last term) in future as I develop my thinking in consultation with the folks around me.
But one final point: Ferguson diagnoses three deficits "that together explain why the United States has been a less effective empire than its British predecessor." These deficits are 1) economic, 2) manpower, and 3) attention. Ferguson discounts the economic deficit (foreign debt, growing entitlement liabilities as Baby Boomers age, trade imbalance, etc.) because all other pretenders to the American throne would be harder hit if America falters. For example, it is the Chinese who are financing our consumption, and the Europeans are in much worse shape in terms of a graying population and unsustainable welfare state. I don't completely buy this, because the disturbing trend toward populism and protectionism could certainly plunge us into serious economic troubles, yielding even less taste for empire -- and who cares if the rest of the world comes with us?
To cure the manpower deficit Ferguson proposes enlisting immigrants, foreigners, and the unemployed. As I've said before, with somewhat of a bias given my own immigration situation, I'm all for creating a foreign legion. As for the other two categories, I think we're pretty much maxed out. The armed forces have already lowered their recruitment standards, and are offering quite attractive enlistment bonuses, so we're sopping up as much "excess labor capacity" as we can.
I agree with Ferguson, however, that the attention deficit, America's lack of will -- caused in part by the unforgiving political cycle -- restricts long-term strategic thinking. We are impatient for quick results and unwilling to engage in a long slog. That is, the Bush administration theory on transformation of the Middle East may be sound when considered over a minimum 50-year period, but short-term dynamics prevent us from engaging in the steps that would allow us to bear those long-term fruit. (This is perhaps similar to the Social Security debate, among others.)
As Ferguson puts it, the trouble with "an empire in denial" is that it makes two mistakes when it intervenes in troubled states' affairs. "The first may be to allocate insufficient resources to the nonmilitary aspects of the project. The second, and more serious, is to attempt economic and political transformation in an unrealistically short time frame." These two points help explain why our vastly powerful economy and extraordinary military capability has had such a disappointing record of regime change/restructuring.
Think about it: Of our interventions of the past century, only Germany, Japan, and Korea can be considered successful. What do those three engagements have in common? American troops are still there over 50 years later. Put another way, in 1945 who would you rather be, America's Third World ally (like the Philippines) or its enemy (Japan).
As Nietzsche said, it's all about the "will to power." Post-modern Europe has long lacked it; has America gone the same way?
Monday, August 13, 2007
The Changing Goals of the Best and Brightest
I've been reading Niall Ferguson's Colossus, a briskly written brief for liberal imperialism -- and consequent criticism of United States for hampering overseas missions by going over-the-top in denying their imperialstic natures. I'll save a large reaction for later, but wanted to share one passage I recently enjoyed:
This is interesting to me particularly because I have absolutely no interest in managing any business, running a hedge fund, or anything else so mercantile. (The only lucrative dream I have might be to write a best-selling book.) Yet, of course, for so many of my college and law school classmates, all that is indeed the height of their aspirations.
It's probably a good thing; this is why America is such an economic powerhouse. And of course it's also a good thing to have more talented people see the private sector as the place for them, rather than trying to expand government. But it is striking that fewer young Americans now aspire to public service than they did even a few decades ago. (Forget the Victorian Brits, recall Kennedy's eponymous Best and Brightest.) This trend has reversed itself since 9/11, to be sure, but I wonder how much.
[Few], if any, of the graduates of Harvard, Stanford, Yale or Princeton aspire
to spend their lives trying to turn a sun-scorched sandpit like Iraq into the prosperous caoitalist democracy of Paul Wolfowitz's imaginings. America's brightest and best aspire not to govern Mesopotamia but to manage MTV, not to rule the Hejaz but to run a hedge fund. Unlike their British counterparts of a century ago, who left the elite British universities with an overtly imperial ethos, the letters ambitious young Americans would like to see after their names are CEO, not CBE [Commander of the British Empire].
This is interesting to me particularly because I have absolutely no interest in managing any business, running a hedge fund, or anything else so mercantile. (The only lucrative dream I have might be to write a best-selling book.) Yet, of course, for so many of my college and law school classmates, all that is indeed the height of their aspirations.
It's probably a good thing; this is why America is such an economic powerhouse. And of course it's also a good thing to have more talented people see the private sector as the place for them, rather than trying to expand government. But it is striking that fewer young Americans now aspire to public service than they did even a few decades ago. (Forget the Victorian Brits, recall Kennedy's eponymous Best and Brightest.) This trend has reversed itself since 9/11, to be sure, but I wonder how much.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Do Not Talk About The Book
Last night I watched Fight Club at the MWR (Morale, Welfare, Readiness) theater. Yes, I know, it came out in 1999, but for some reason I'd never seen it. Now, because I read the book over the course of several "hurry up and wait" episodes at Fort Benning last month, I was curious to see the movie.
Curious mostly to see why it had been such a talked-about movie in its day, because I really didn't like the book. Whether it was the minimalism or the nihilism, something just didn't do it for me. And Chuck Palahniuk has such a reputation for edgy, avant-garde, thought-provoking writing.
(Well, I guess he is edgy and avant garde, but judging by that book alone he seems to be part of that notorious school of post-modern lit that's really an emperor-has-no-clothes deal. Like David Sedaris. What is so funny about David Sedaris? I don't get it. And the fact that he moved to Paris to live with his gay lover is supposed to be, what, brave? Nope, all too banal for me.)
Anyway, I thought the movie dragged at times but was ultimately entertaining. Ed Norton and Brad Pitt were tremendous. I got out of it, beyond a warning about pschizophrenia, a Dead-Poets-Society-type message about seizing the day, not letting yourself get sucked into a dreary 9-to-5 white- or blue-collar existence. And also the dangers of the aforementioned nihilism.
I'm sure that wasn't what Palahniuk intended; to whom it was probably "just a story," or perhaps a long-needed glorification of extra-societal underground groups of marginalized individuals who revolt, in their own way, against the bourgeoisie. That may very well be what he meant, but so I can continue thinking good things about the movie, I'll discount that view.
Curious mostly to see why it had been such a talked-about movie in its day, because I really didn't like the book. Whether it was the minimalism or the nihilism, something just didn't do it for me. And Chuck Palahniuk has such a reputation for edgy, avant-garde, thought-provoking writing.
(Well, I guess he is edgy and avant garde, but judging by that book alone he seems to be part of that notorious school of post-modern lit that's really an emperor-has-no-clothes deal. Like David Sedaris. What is so funny about David Sedaris? I don't get it. And the fact that he moved to Paris to live with his gay lover is supposed to be, what, brave? Nope, all too banal for me.)
Anyway, I thought the movie dragged at times but was ultimately entertaining. Ed Norton and Brad Pitt were tremendous. I got out of it, beyond a warning about pschizophrenia, a Dead-Poets-Society-type message about seizing the day, not letting yourself get sucked into a dreary 9-to-5 white- or blue-collar existence. And also the dangers of the aforementioned nihilism.
I'm sure that wasn't what Palahniuk intended; to whom it was probably "just a story," or perhaps a long-needed glorification of extra-societal underground groups of marginalized individuals who revolt, in their own way, against the bourgeoisie. That may very well be what he meant, but so I can continue thinking good things about the movie, I'll discount that view.
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