The US Elections: The Shakespearoes

Whatever happened to all the heroes?

Roosevelt and Truman, sitting in a tree,
New deal, true deal, you can't catch me,
Along came the Parson with his wicked shears
Snip snap, crackerjack, and that was that.

Kennedy and Carter, sitting on the fence
Gazing at their memories a long way hence,
Along came the Parson with his sharpened sense
Snip snap, crackerjack, and that was that.

Why did I like Bill Clinton?

The fact is, I can't quite remember. I remember a morning back in 1998, when I was walking to work and someone thrust a microphone under my nose, asking me whom I'd vote for in the upcoming US presidential election.

"Clinton," I said.

Why? I honestly can't remember.

But all through the next eight years, I liked the man. I admired him. He was, I thought, strong on liberty, strong on the economy. What more could you ask for? Someone who defended personal freedom, even if that freedom flew in the face of the religiously or otherwise bigotted? But that's exactly what he did. Someone who could pull the American economy out of the dirt and turn a deficit into a surplus? Again, that's what he did.

In other words, he was pretty good leader.

Perhaps, writing this, I do remember.

Certainly I remember how Monica Lewinsky didn't change my opinion of the man one iota. What on earth could one man's brief infatuation with a cute intern have to do with running the country? How ever could that matter?

But, in retrospect, perhaps it did. Or rather, it does.

Bill Clinton's role in the recent primaries has changed my mind. I used to have a pretty lucid opinion of him. It may have been right and it may have been wrong, but it was clear-cut. Now it's a bit of a fog.

In South Carolina, on January 26th, 2008, Clinton was asked why it took two of them (two Clintons, that is) to defeat Barack Obama. Clinton chuckled, and then said:

"Jesse Jackson won South Carolina twice, in '84 and '88. And he ran a good campaign, and Senator Obama has run a good campaign."

It was a weird thing to say. Why bring up Jackson? Why compare Obama to Jackson? Yes, Jackson is black; yes, he ran a good campaign. But he also hadn't a chance in hell to get the Democrats' nomination, in spite of winning the primaries in South Carolina. Oh, wait, that's exactly why Clinton brought this up.

Okay then; political posturing. Perhaps not too clever, but no big deal, either. After all, on the stump, in the thick of things, not everything that's said is wise.

Except that wasn't the end of it. Two months later, when asked about the South Carolina "incident", Clinton said:

"They played the race card on me."

Huh? What's that? They played the race card on him? It was Clinton who brought up Jackson, who decided to compare Obama with a black fringe candidate who "ran a good campaign" but wasn't actually going anywhere. And who's "they", and what did they do?

Clinton elaborated:

"(...) this was used out of context and twisted for political purposes by the Obama campaign to try and breed resentment elsewhere."

Context? What context? There was a question: Why does it take two Clintons to defeat one Obama? There was an answer: "Well, Jesse Jackson won too, but not really." What context could there be other than the one Clinton devised himself?

And how could it possibly have been "twisted" by "the Obama campaign? Again, Clinton elaborated: "and we now know from memos from the campaign and everything that they planned to do it all along."

Well, yes, there is a memo. Not memos (and certainly not a whole bunch of "everything" as well). And that memo doesn't say: "Let's try and portray Clinton as a biggot". What the memo does is list the possible instances where the Clintons attempted to insert a racial tone into their campaigning. Nothing, as far as I know, was ever done with it; Obama himself expressed regret that it had even been written at all. Nevertheless, it was probably correct in its general tone, as the South Carolina incident made clear.

Given all this, why on earth did Clinton say the things he said? Why didn't he just acknowledge that he made a stupid comment back in January and let it go?

One might still let all this slip by. On the stump, in the thick of things...

But that's not where things ended, either. Because when he was confronted by his own reaction ("They played the race card on me"), Clinton decided to respond as follows:

"No no no, that's not what I said."

In spite of the fact that, of course, that was exactly what he had said.

And, for me, that was it. It was an Eureka moment. It was like having a stone unturned and finding the worm crawling underneath. I hadn't cared about the Lewinsky debacle; like many others, I felt it to be a purely personal issue. When pressed, Clinton evaded and eventually lied; but since there was no reason to attack him in the first place, his reaction wasn't going to bother me.

This time round, though, Clinton simply lied because it was convenient. And he lied about making a mistake which he only made because he wanted to drag Obama down. And he wasn't spinning the truth, and he wasn't interpretating things, he was just lying.

Snip snap, crackerjack, here's where it's at:
take a girl, make her whirl, show her where's it's fat,
Along came the Parson, made me stop my clock,
Ding dong, sing-along, it's all a bunch of crock.

Whatever happened to my heroes? All those Shakespearoes?
We watched their Rome burn...

US Politics: The Redemption Of Regret

I'm not sure how much attention this will grab, but it's astonishing:

President Bush Regrets His Legacy As Man Who Wanted War

Here's a snippet from the article, which is based on an interview with Dubya:

"President Bush has admitted to The Times that his gun-slinging rhetoric made the world believe that he was a “guy really anxious for war” in Iraq. He said that his aim now was to leave his successor a legacy of international diplomacy for tackling Iran.

In an exclusive interview, he expressed regret at the bitter divisions over the war and said that he was troubled about how his country had been misunderstood. 'I think that in retrospect I could have used a different tone, a different rhetoric.' "

Think about this a moment. And let's assume, just for the sake of argument, that the war in Iraq was probably the worst idea ever since someone said: "Humpty Dumpty, take a big jumpy." After all, with hunderds of thousands of Iraqi men, women and children dead, millions displaced and the country's very foundations broken to smithereens, one or two nagging doubts might be order. Especially if the reasons for all this destruction were false to start with.

So, what do you do when your big claim to fame raises a few eyebrows? Why, it's easy. You say: "You're right! I admit it! I should have presented it a bit differently."

And then we can all say: "Well, that's a relief! For a moment there, we really thought something horrible had happened!"

To which you answer: "Haha! Glad we got that sorted. Now let me present a few things with regard to Iran..."

Astonishing, too, is that this tactic hasn't been used more often. On the other hand, perhaps it has been, and the fact that we don't really know about it is because it's just so bloody brilliant.

Who knows, maybe the London police managed to find Jack the Ripper after all. And here's what happened:

Police: "Ho, ho! Wots all this then, eh?"

Jack: "Oh, just a bit o' crumpet I killed, officer! Been doing that now for a while, you know! Great fun!"

Police: "Now that ain't cricket, me young bloody friend! It's the bucket and pail for you!"

Jack: "No, no, no! You don't understand! Look at the writing on the wall! I wrote that before inserting this huge and spiky object up between her filthy little legs and tearing up everything inside!"

Police: "Oh! Well now. Let's have a look at that there writing, then." (Moving to the wall and scratching his beard:) "Err, now - that says: 'I, Jack, do solemnly proclaim my deep' - Wot's that there? - 'my deep regret that any of my actions may be seen as, as' - Wot's that word?"

Jack: "Reprehensible. Good, ain't it? Reprehensible! I looked it up!"

Police (thoughtfully): " '... as reprehensible.' That's nice, that is. Very posh. And then it says: 'I will make everything look nicer next time round.' "

Jack: "And I will! My presentation wasn't good, but I'll do better! I promise!"

Police: "Well! That seems to clear things up nicely, I must say! For a moment there I thought Dasterdly Deeds were afoot! I do apologise, good sir! And I wish you a very good night!"

Jack: "And the same to you, Officer! The same to you!"

The US Elections: Nelson's Notions

Some time ago, Senator Bill Nelson, Democrat from Florida, proposed some wide-sweeping changes to the way US presidents are elected.

On June 6th, he filed his proposals with Congress, where they are certain to die a slow and unnoticed death.

One of the problems with the bill is that it's just too ambitious. Nelson wants, for example, to scrap the Electoral College. Now there may well be quite sound arguments for doing just that, but the fact of the matter is, it just ain't going to happen. The College is part of the US Constitution and it's been chugging along gamely for over 200 years. It's doing quite well, thank you very much. There's just no way Congress will set it out to pasture, let alone that the required 75% of all states would give their ratification. After all, the Electoral College system works to the benefit of small states, which are in the majority.

One wonders, though, what would happen if Nelson had been a bit more humble and had limited his reform package to the primary election process. On that score, surely, his ideas make some sense.

Those ideas amount to the introduction of a regional primary season, running from March through June (the exact months aren't important, but the total duration is). The US would be divided into 6 regions, and each of these regions would get their turn to vote (with, I'm assuming, all the states of a given region voting on the same day). Next time round, the same thing applies, but the sequence of the voting revolves. That way, in the larger scheme of things, no region would have preference over the others.

I must admit I like this idea. Its advantages are obvious:

• the duration of the primary season is shortened to three months or so, diminishing the chance that voters start changing their minds during the process and the candidate that ends up being the voters' choice loses because of a bad start;
• the unseemly jostling of states to set their primary dates as early as possible is eliminated. This is important, because the state's interests in early voting are by no means congruent with a party's interests in adhering to a fair and balanced election process;
• the system allows for focused campaigning by candidates, but widens the scope of the issues which they will have to focus on. It will simply become less feasible to atempt to pander to the voters of one state, only to turn around and attempt to pander to the voters in the next with a potentially different message.

This system would render the repeat of the 2008 Florida and Michgan debacle impossible, which in itself is a huge advantage. However, it does nothing to address the concerns that the Democratic primary seasons have revealed when it come to other shortcomings of the election process. More specifically, it does not address the problems concerning the significance (or lack thereof) of the popular vote or the doubts surrounding the role of the so-called superdelegates.

Because of this, I would imagine a few further changes might be in order:

• Abolish the caucuses; mandate a primary-only system. I happen to like the idea of caucuses, but I don't really think you can have both caucuses and primaries and not get into a very real muddle when it comes to determining if the winner actually deserved to win. In 2008, Clinton's claim to having won the popular vote was probably false and should, strictly speaking, have been irrelevant, but it's clear that's not the way things work in the real world. So I think future bickering about such things really needs to be avoided;
• Make pledged delegates stick to their pledges. That is: make it mandatory for pledged delegates to vote according to the outcome of their respective primaries. The current "good conscious" rule - which, in theory at least, allows for a pledged delegate to ignore the voters' wishes and vote for a different candidate during a party's convention - is frankly ridiculous;
• Abolish the category of "add-on" superdelegates and limit the supers to representatives, senators, governors, and (former) presidents and House Speakers;
• Limit the power of the supers to a block vote, and allow them to weigh in only if a candidate does not get a majority of the pledged delegate votes. Mandate that, in such an event, all the super-votes will be cast for a single candidate, to be determined on the basis of simple majority of supers.

These changes obviously strengthen the power of the voters in determining the candidate and should greatly diminish the rather murky political manoeuvering that goes on amongst the party insiders. After all, who on earth are all these supers? The so-called unpledged PLEO's - the Party Leaders and Elected Officials - well, we know a bit about them, by and large. But the others, the so-called add-ons? They're selected by the state parties, but on what grounds?

As for the block-vote rule: I would hope that this reflects the reason for having the supers in the first place. I believe they should only be of consequence if the electorate can't decide and I feel it's fair to force them to reach a consensus amongst themselves in the interests of their party.

Now, what would have happenen if this system had been in place during this year's primary? The answer is: who knows? The effects of the regional primary notion is anyone's guess. At most, one might assume that the system slightly favours the candidate who's the strongest as the race commences, since he or she might be expected to do well in the first region to vote, making it harder for opponents to catch up. However, that's just a guess; it would, of course, also depend on which region gets the first say.

Abolishing the caucuses would seem to have been in Cinton's favour, but again, that's speculation. Obama could still well have won the caucus states if they'd had held primaries, even though his victories may not have been as convincing.

One thing I am fairly sure about, though, is that the whole process would have been quite a bit more orderly and less confusing than it was now. I also feel that the potential for divisiveness - so surprisingly but resoundingly realised during this particular Democratic nomination - would probably not have existed.

So, while I don't think we're about to see an overhaul of the nomination process on anything like the scale described above, I do really hope some people give the matter the thought it surely deserves.

The US Elections: A Brilliant Little Coup

Most people will be aware that the Little Coup marked the beginning of the downfall of the Union.

Well, alright, perhaps not most people. In fact, perhaps not anyone at all. I certainly didn't. Not until I read this, that is.

I do know a bit about another little coup, though, since I've just watched it unfold last night.

Enough will be said - now and in the years to come - about Obama's successful bid for the Democratic nomination for the president of the United States.

What I wanted to point out, though, is a minor but interesting point. It's this: Obama realised his win yesterday by means of a coup - a little one, to be sure - which was brilliantly timed and superbly executed.

For a few months now (ever since the close of February), just about anyone who can count knew that the nomination would, in all likelihood, go to Obama. The question wasn't really if, it was how and when.

But things weren't looking up for him as the weeks passed, and the worst possible demons of American politics - demagogy, egomania, hypocrisy - were dragged on and off the stage in the guises of Wright, F&M, the popular vote, and the like. And although, as time passed, it still wasn't really if, it was rapidly getting to yes, but what if.

Obama's real problem during this time wasn't that he was losing states he ought to be winning, since he wasn't (although, to be fair, Clinton performed better than many expected in some primaries). His problem was Clinton was managing to slowly dissolve the entire premise of the campaign; she was making such a mess of the whole process that the one rule of determining a winner -who gets the most delegates? - was slowly sinking into a deliberately created quagmire.

Yesterday, only two small states remained. Together, they had 31 pledged delgates on offer - too few to push Obama over the finish, even if Obama scored heavily in both primaries. And it got worse for Obama, since South Dakota was sliding towards Clinton.

There was, in other words, a very real risk that yesterday would have have been the end of nothing, and the beginning of mayhem. That it would leave the road wide open for Clinton to pursue the course she had taken after February. Pledged delegates? Ha! That was then, this is now. Rules? What rules? They didn't get us anywhere, did they? It's all up for grabs, folks, and I'm just getting started...

Clinton seemed poised, in other words, for total war. And a war on the ground of her choosing.

But all that was abruptly halted yesterday. Not by the primary results: they weren't good for Obama by any means. He won Montana, but lost South Dakota. The results should and would have helped Clinton.

It was halted by what happened before all the results were in. It was halted by a sequence of events that effectively rendered the state results inconsequential. It was halted by the little coup, which played out as follows.

In the hours before the results came in, in a carefully choreographed action which, no doubt, was in part scripted by Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid, the superdelegates started to move. They started to crawl out of their holes; they stated committing themselves to Obama.

They'd said they wouldn't, not till the primaries were done and dusted. Time and again, they said that Wouldn't Be Right. That they should Wait And See. But yesterday, one by one, they crawled out nevertheless.

One by one they came, and by the time the potentially troublesome South Dakota results started coming in, there was such a clump of them - shivering, perhaps, in the harsh light of day, but all of them mouthing "Obama" gamely - that that state's results didn't matter at all. And when Montana proclaimed itself for Obama, a possible disaster was suddenly transformed into a triumph. By God! Obama hadn't just won, he'd won convincingly.

Suddenly, Florida and Michigan were moot. Suddenly, the popular vote argument was moot. And out went the big states/small states issue. And the caucus/primary thingy? It was tossed into the garbage can by a disgruntled Clinton afficiando who had packed his things and was heading off home.

The nomination was decided then and there, and each and every possible route to scurry around that outcome was abruptly cut off.

It was bloody brilliant, and it was brilliant because of one simple thing: because the supers came out before the results. Because they came out hours before the results, and there was nothing Clinton could do to halt either them or the inevitable consequence of their sudden emergence. And it was superbly executed because they came out in just the right numbers: not quite enough to tip the scales all by their lonesome, but sufficient to have the voters do that without even realising they were pushed over the winning line by the superwind in their backs.

It was a brilliant strategy, and the people who devised - and realised - it deserve huge acclaim.

Hats off to you, Messrs. Axelrod et al. You've done a great job.

__________

The US Elections: Tuesday Morning

It's Tuesday morning.

We got there, in the end. The final day of the primary season; the final two contests.

Later today - quite a bit later, in fact - the results from South Dakota and Montana will come in. Two small, Republican states, whose Democratic primaries wouldn't, in the general scheme of things, amount to diddly-squat.

Except this year - this election - they do. If only because of the fact that, due to the vagaries of the primary calender, these are the last outposts on a road so long many of us stopped travelling it some time ago. We returned to our daily lives, watching from an ever increasing distance as the two candidates moved on, dwindling into the distance.

But we can still see them, out there in the vastness of the Badlands. Look: there's Clinton, waving her arms and mouthing - well, it's difficult to hear. Papa la vole, papa la vole... Could that be it?

And that's Obama, over there. It's looks like he's trying to turn around, to get back to us. But Clinton won't let him, and each time he tries, she grabs him tight and they're off again, into the distance.

But there's a line drawn across the emptiness between those two outposts, and today they'll cross it. And what will happen then?

Perhaps they'll vanish there in a puff of dust, only to re-appear right in front of us. Re-invigorated, somehow, by their ordeal, with Obama somehow larger, and Clinton smiling at him.

Or perhaps they'll just keep going once the line is crossed, tumbling across the landscape like a dustball, certain only of mutual defeat.

Who can tell, so early in the morning?

__________________

The US Elections: And Pigs Will Fly

On March 26th, Bob Cesca at the Huffington Post posted a video he'd assembled to the tune of Roger Waters's "The Tide Is Turning".

This was right after Obama's extraordinary race speech in Pennsylvania, and there was, amongst Obama-ists and general optimists alike, a sense that the cynical, subversive policies of Politics had been averted.

Cesca wrote:

I have no idea who Roger Waters is supporting in this thing (and I hasten to note that this video was created without his permission), but when I heard Senator Obama's historic Philadelphia address last week, this song, "The Tide Is Turning," from Waters' underrated 1987 album Radio KAOS kept running on a loop in my head.

Cynicism averted? No so. Indeed, less than a month later, after the state of Pennsylvania had held its primary, it was the triumphant old guard - Clinton - who went on stage to claim the self same slogan. Unlike Cesca, Clinton presumably had never heard of Roger Waters. And even if she had, she certainly wasn't aware of the bitter-sweet song Cesca refers to.

No matter, though. Neither were the Pennsylvanians. And neither is, it seems, America.

But a few days later, April 27th - last sunday - Roger Waters gave the closing concert at the Coachella music festival in California. And he brought a huge inflatable pig with him. And guess what? The pig had "Obama" written on its belly. So Cesca had it right, even if he didn't dare say so out right at the time.

But here's the thing:

As Waters drew the song to a close, flame bursts exploded on the sides of the stage and the swine floated into the night sky. Waters said sadly and comically, "That's my pig."

Ah, yes, Obama. Floating away into the night sky. There's our pig, going, going - gone.

Although, of course, there is a reward. It seems that if you manage to salvage the whole thing - and get the pig back - $ 10,000 will be yours.

Well, that has to be a worthy cause, right?

The US Elections: Indiana or Bust!

Here's a fact no-one will bother mentioning: Clinton won the Pennsylvania primary by 9%.

Prior to the results, just about all the pundits were pointing out that she needed a double-digit victory in the Keystone State. It was 10% or more - or bust.

She almost managed the 10% minimum, but not quite. By current calculations, she got 1,260,208 votes. Obama got 1,045,444 votes. In other words, she beat Obama by a margin of 9.3%. Rounded, that's 9% - and not 10%, as every media source in the world is exuberantly reporting today.

Does that matter? No, not really, but it's a interesting little example of how the media push a message which makes little sense, even to themselves.

In any case, it's on to Indiana. For what it's worth, I've considered this the truly key state for a little while now. And since perceptions tend to change - and change strangely - over time, I'm laying the down the current state of affairs in that state, as far as we know them.

Clinton's ahead in the polls. In the current RCP average, she's beating Obama by 2.2%. Pollster has her in the lead by 6%.

In other words, Clinton should win, certainly given the state's demographics (roughly similar to Ohio or Pennsylvania) and certainly given the boost her campaign will inevitably get from the Pennsylvania result.

But let's see what happens. If Obama has sufficient appeal with Democrats to be a viable candidate in the general election, he will overcome his current deficit, thereby convincingly cementing his advantage over Clinton in terms of pledged delegates and waylaying Clinton's popular vote arguments. If, on the other hand, Clinton has any real momentum, she should be able to maintain and indeed augment her present lead, and we will once more have a real battle unfolding.

If, come May 6th, the Indiana results simply reflect the current situation (a marginal Clinton win by 2 to 6%), I think it's fair to say the Democrats have a very real problem.

__________

Edit I (April 25th): today, CNN's "poll of polls" has both candidates at 45%, with 10% unsure.

Edit II (April 28th): today, the RCP average too shows a tie, with both Obama and Clinton at 45.5%. The most recent poll to be included in the average, though - from Survey USA - shows a lead for Clinton 0f no less than 9%.

Edit III (April 30th): today, the RCP average is at + 2.2% for Clinton.

Edit IV (May 4th): RCP puts Clinton ahead by 5.8%.

US Law: Harry Potter and the Mirror of Noisufnoc

On Halloween 2007, author J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros (who own the rights to the Harry Potter films) filed a lawsuit against a small US publisher, RDR Books.

Their aim was and is to block the publication of The Harry Potter Lexicon, which is effectively an A-Z encyclopeadia of all things Potter.

The Lexicon is not, by any means, a new work: it has been around for some time on the Internet and has received praise from Rowling herself, who awarded the web version of the Lexicon with a "Fan Site Award" in 2004. The intention of tranferring the contents of the site to the printed page has, however, provoked a remarkable turnaround in her views on the Lexicon.

During the trial - which commenced on April 14 2008 and lasted three days, the outcome not being expected for a month or so - Rowling accused the author of the site (and the book), Stephen Vander Ark, of "wholesale theft", pointing out that the publication felt like "an act of betrayal". She has also mentioned that the dispute had left her unable to continue work on a new novel, and "decimated my creative work over the last month". Finally, she said the Lexicon threatened to scupper her desire to write a Potter encyclopaedia of her own.

All of this seems, to be frank, a bit rich. It was enough, however, to reduce Mr. Vander Ark - who might be fifty years old or thereabouts, but who himself bears a striking resemblance to Potter - to tears when he testified at the trial.

All in all, it was three days of high courtroom drama, and it's no wonder it caught the public's eye.

It did so, however, mostly for reasons that have little to do with the case's merits. Those merits are, after all, legal and bear little relation to Rowling's curiously vehement and disparaging remarks, or indeed to Vander Ark's equally emotional response.

That's not to say the merits weren't interesting, though. They are.

In effect, the case revolves around the murky concept in American copyright law referred to as "fair use". Fair use, to put it simply, allows for the limited use of copyrighted material in certain instances. The most obvious examples are works of criticism or commentary, where the critic or commentator will have little choice but to regularly quote the original work in order to make his point.

Fair use, US copyright law states, "for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching (...), scholarship, or research, is not an infringement of copyright. In determining whether the use made of a work in any particular case is a fair use the factors to be considered shall include:

• the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes;
• the nature of the copyrighted work;
• the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole;
• and the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work."

In applying these criteria, two of them can effectively be ignored. "The nature of the copyrighted work" refers to the distinction which might be made between, for example, works of fiction or non-fiction, or the distinction between published or unpublished works, the idea being that it might be easier to assume fair use if the original work is non-fictional, and easier still if it hasn't even been published yet. Here, we're talking about the best known children's books in the world, and they're obviously fiction and obviously published. You can't, in short, assume fair use on the basis of this criterion.

The second criterion to be dismissed is "the effect of the use upon the potential market or value of the copyrighted work". I don't think anyone is arguing that the Lexicon will noticeably effect the market or value of the Harry Potter books. The encyclopaedia Rowling herself wishes to write, by the way, is not relevant, for the simple reason that she hasn't written it yet and it therefore can't be protected by any copyright whatsoever.

That leaves us with the remaining two criteria.

Of these, the first is the most interesting. What is it about "the purpose and character of the use" that means it amounts to - or doesn't amount to - fair use? In case law, some answers have been given, but they are hard to apply to this specific situation.

The most well-known answer is that use is fair (or at least tends towards being fair) when the use is "transformative" and not merely "derivative". Does the use add to the appreciation or knowledge of the original work, or does it seek to "supersede" (parts of) that work?

When it comes to, say, literary criticism, this criterion works well enough. Actual criticism (even if it's bad criticism) almost per definition attempts to add to the understanding or knowledge of the work criticised. When it comes to an encyclopaedia, however, the lines can become a little blurry, certainly if the encyclopaedia focuses solely on a single work (which the Pottter books effectively are).

There are two diametrically opposed ways to deal with this issue in this case. The first is to argue that if, you simply take all the characters of the Potter books, all its places, spells, potions, beasts and the like, and sort them all into neat alphabetical lists, you aren't doing much more than taking a large chunk of Rowling's work (and imagination) and regurgitating it.
The opposing argument is that, by its very definition, an encyclopaedia such as this adds to the understanding and knowledge of the original work. It is intended to be used as a reference tool, a work that therefore has a different (and "transformed") purpose than the original work. Forgotten who Kreachure was or what his background amounted to? Look it up in the Lexicon! Want to write an essay on Platform 9 3/4? Check the Lexicon first!

Ironically, Rowling herself has admitted to using the online Lexicon for just such a purpose. On her own website she once wrote: "This is such a great site that I have been known to sneak into an internet café while out writing and check a fact rather than go into a bookshop and buy a copy of Harry Potter (which is embarrassing)."

I must admit to being on RDR's side when it comes to these opposing views. Once a work is published it is, to a certain extent, handed over to its audience. They aren't allowed to copy it - they must accept the work's integrity and the author's rightful claims to the work as a whole - but the audience is certainly free to scrutinise, dissect, and digest it in pretty much any way they wish to. And yes, that includes, in my opinion, writing something like the Lexicon. In fact, I would consider the Lexicon a prime example of "fair use".

This criterion, it should be noted, also mentions the distinction between use that is commercial and that is non-profit and intended for educational purposes. And this is clearly where Rowling herself has drawn a line: the online Lexicon is freely available to all; the printed version will have to be bought. The trouble is, though, that just about any printed work is, at least in part, a commercial exercise. The trouble is, too, that nowadays extensive sites like Vander Ark's are exactly the same. They will almost always allow for commercial advertising; they may very well call for readers' donations to keep the site up and running. And they can clearly result in commercial fringe benefits for the owners of the site, the impending publication of the Lexicon as a book being, well, a case in print.

As a result, it is difficult to see how this can be a reasonable and practical distinction in today's world. Having said that, though, it might well prove to be Rowling's only real line of attack: if she and Warner Bros can successfully argue that RDR is only in it in order to make the proverbial "fast buck" (and, by implication, couldn't care less about the quality of the Lexicon as a reference), they may stand a chance. That judge in New York may well make the same mistake Rowling is making: that a fansite like the Lexicon is a cute, innocuous affair, whilst a publication of the self-same material in book form by a small publisher is a horrendous breach of copyright.

The final criterion - the "amount and substantiality of the portion [of the original work] used" - ties in with the previous one. Again, the arguments to either side will have to express polarities, with Rowling and Warner Bros echoing their view that since it is in the Lexicon's very nature to basically sum up everyone and everything in the Potter books, the Lexicon uses a great amount of the original work indeed. And RDR will argue that that is exactly why it can be considered a reference tool - it wouldn't be very much use if Vander Ark had, for example, left out all entries starting with the letters "H" through "P".

All in all, this is an intriguing case, the more so, perhaps, by virtue of the fact that quite a few legal experts don't seem very sure of the outcome. That may surprise some people, but the fact is that an endeavour such as the Lexicon is a rare thing, the more so if it is undertaken with a regard to a more or less recent work (where copyright protection still applies), but not by the original publishers and without the author's consent. In other words, such a dispute just doesn't really crop up much.

Equally and additionally, though, it is another example of how the Internet has totally changed everyone's perceptions on so many issues. This time round it's legal issues that count, but simmering below the surface we have Rowling's clear and no doubt honest difficulty in letting go of some aspects of her own creation - not in the ethereal world of the Internet, but in what she seems to perceive as the real world. And on the other hand we have the hapless Vander Ark, who spent years working on his site out of love for Potter and admiration for Rowling to just about everyone's acclaim, only to now be told he is "really" just a thief after all.

There's something decidedly odd about this case. It does two things at once: pose a legal problem that's intriguing enough in itself, and then juxtapose it to the ever-transcending reality of the virtual world. It's a Mirror of Noisufnoc.

The US Elections: Predicting Pennsylvania

Later today, ABC News will be broadcasting the Clinton/Obama debate in Philadelphia. It'll be interesting to see how well - or indeed, how poorly - Obama does. He's certainly gotten better at these debates as the campaign moved on; on the other hand, there is sure to be some emphasis on the recent "Bittergate" controversy.

Meanwhile, though, predictions are always fun to read, especially if they're specific and clearly well thought-out.

Predictions of the outcome of the Pennsylvania primary have been made in the past months. Here's an example from Real Clear Politics, written by Jay Cost. However, these have tended to be a bit unspecific. The RCP article doesn't, for instance, actually state a likely outcome when it comes to the one thing that matters above all else: the delegate tally.

Two other articles, on the other hand, provide just such a tally, based on a district by district breakdown of the state. The first is from CQ Politics. The second can be found over at Daily Kos.

To understand all the numbers, you have to first understand that Pennsylvania's pool of delegates amounts to a grand total of 187. However, that includes 29 superdelegates, who aren't going to be subject to the vote at all. That leaves 158 delegates that are actually going to be up for grabs during the primary.

Of these, 55 will be allocated on the basis of the statewide popular vote. If, for example, Clinton wins by 55% to 45% (the same margin of victory she had in Ohio), these 55 delegates will be split up as follows: 30 to Clinton, 25 to Obama.

The remaining 103 delegates will be allocated on the basis of the outcome of the vote on a district by district basis. There are 19 congressional districts in total. Each district has a certain number of delegates, the "largest" district (the 2nd) having 9 delegates and the "smallest" (the 9th) having three. 6 districts have 5 delegates to allocate; 5 districts have 4 delegates. (Strange, there almost seems to be a patern of numerical reflections here...)

Given the peculiarities of the district system, the outcome per district will either substantially augment the victor's win or substantially decrease it. The winner of the popular vote in a district with an uneven number of delegates will generally walk away with a relatively high number of pledged delegates; the loser, on the other hand, benefits when the number of delegates is even. If one candidate were to win the popular vote by, say 5%, in a district with 5 delegates, he or she would get 3 delegates, leaving 2 for the opposing candidate. The 5% margin in the popular vote, in other words, translates into a 20% margin in the delegate tally. Conversely, if that district had only 4 delegates on offer, those delegates would be split evenly. In fact, if the popular vote margin went up to, say, 20% the delegates would still be split down the middle (if there were only 4 of them to begin with).

The consequence of this system is that, when it come to the district delegates, it makes very little sense to campaign hard in a district with 4 delegates if your chances of sweeping it aren't very high; on the other hand, getting that slight edge in a 5-delegate district could be well be worth your while. The campaigns, therefore, are waging an on-the-ground war aimed at key districts; the statewide polls of the popular vote are meaningful, but not necessarily as decisive as many people think.

Now back to the two predictions. In both cases, the outcome is not really good news for Clinton. In the CQ projection, the 103 district delegates will be split as follows: 53 will go to Clinton and 50 to Obama. That's a Clinton victory of just 3 delegates. Unfortunately, CQ doesn't say anything about the expected outcome of the popular vote, so it remains unclear how they think the other 55 delegates would be allocated. Assuming, though, that Clinton "wins" Pennsyslvania as a whole by 10%, that would mean her net gain in the state would amount to (5 + 3 =) 8 delegates.

Over at Daily Kos, a statewide Clinton win of 9% is assumed, with Clinton gaining a net advantage in the district war of 5 delegates. That would put her total gain in the state at (5 + 5 =) 10 delegates.

The predictions are, therefore, effectively the same. Interestingly enough, Clinton won Ohio by 9 delegates. So Jay Cost at RCP, who wasn't explicit when it came to delegate numbers but who did say that Pennsylvania might well go the way of Ohio, may be even more correct than he imagined.

Oh, and to put it all into some perspective: Obama currently leads Clinton in the pledged delegate tally some 164 delegates. Let's say that does, indeed, decrease to 154 or thereabouts.

After six weeks, some bowling, a few shots of whiskey and all the rest, that's not really much to talk about, is it? More than anything else, I feel this proves the silliness of the entire "Bittergate" thing. Which is why I'll not say more about it.

International Affairs: Freedom Stir-Fries

When France raised strong objections against a possible invasion of Iraq in 2003, many Americans were outraged. This is from Wikipedia:

On March 11 United States House of Representatives Robert W. Ney (R-Ohio) and Walter B. Jones, Jr. (R-North Carolina) declared that all references to French fries (...) on the menus of the restaurants and snack bars run by the House of Representatives would be removed. House cafeterias were ordered to rename French fries "freedom fries".

Well, the invasion went on as planned and turned out to be, as we now know, a resounding success.

The "freedom fries" absurdity - perpetuated, I understand, to this day by some restaurants - is one of the silliest examples of boycotts I know. It wasn't even a real boycott, since absolutely no-one actually stopped eating French fries (which aren't even "French" at all).

Olympic boycotts, on the other hand, do tend to be real, even if their impact varies greatly depending on who's boycotting whom. It doesn't mean they can't be silly too, though.

The first Olympics to be boycotted were the Melbourne Games of 1956. A few European countries decided on a boycott as a reaction to the Soviet Union's quashing of the uprising in Hungary earlier that year; a few other countries boycotted due to the Suez Crisis. Both were obviously important and disconcerting (international) events, but neither boycott achieved anything. Looking back, it is, in fact, difficult to imagine how the boycotting countries could have imagined that their absence in a sporting event in Australia could ever have been seen as an significant reaction to Cold War politics in Europe or Africa.

The most famous boycott, no doubt, was that of the Moscow Games in 1980. The year before, the Soviet Union had effectively invaded Afghanistan in an attempt to save that country's communist government from defeat at the hands of the so-called Mujahideen, the "freedom fighters" portrayed so favourably in American media and in American films such as Rambo III.

The boycott, led by the US, was an actual succes in the sense that some 65 countries did not attend the games (although not all of them were absent due to the Afghan crisis), leaving only 81 countries to compete. It did not, however, have any effect on Soviet policy in Afghanistan. The Soviets didn't pull out of Afghanistan until 1989 (clearing the way for the Taliban to emerge out of the ranks of the Mujahideen and thereby setting the stage for a new invasion of the country in 2001, this time led by the US).

The Soviets reciprocated in 1984, boycotting that year's Olymics in Los Angeles. It was clear they didn't have any real reason to so except petty retaliation, and I don't recall anyone missing them (or their Eastern Block allies) very much at the time.

For some time after that, the Games were relatively boycott-free (although there were minor exceptions).

Now, however, things may change again. This time round, it's China's turn, and the reasons for a possible boycott are again tenuous.

The IOC awarded the 2008 Olympics to Beijing back in 2001. At the time, it was, perhaps, a surprising decision. Communist China's history when it comes to human rights has never been good, and it certainly wasn't any better in 2001 than it is now. If anything, the memories of what happened in Tiananmen Square in 1989 were more vivid then than they are now; China's crack-down on the Falun Gong movement had already started in 1999.

It was, however, a decision that acknowledged the undeniable fact that China was emerging as a new superpower and that, like it or not, there really wasn't any way the (Western) world could afford to ignore that reality. And it was also a decision that seemed to express the hope that engagement - the essentialy non-divisive engagement of sports in particular - might bring its own dividends.

In short, the decision was both realistic and optimistic, and it was taken in the full knowledge of the Chinese government's shortcomings.

So what, one could ask, has changed since then to perhaps justify a boycott? The only possible answer to that is: nothing at all.

Yes, China supressed the recent unrest in Tibet, and it did so using some force. It wasn't, however, the first time: in 1959, there had been a larger but still presumably small-scale uprising in Tibet, which Mao swiftly crushed by considerably harsher means (and which led to the Dalai Lama's flight to India). There wasn't, in other words, much reason to be surprised or shocked by China's reaction to the March 2008 events.

Besides, do any of us know what the recent unrest amounted to, how it was started or to what degree the Chinese reaction was or was not justifiable? I rather suspect that many people in the West have an essentially romantic and fuzzy perception of Tibet and that a lot of us look at the country in rather the same way we looked at Afghanistan in the 1980's, with the ascetic and peace-loving Tibetans taking the place of the fierce and noble Mujahideen. We tend, therefore, to gloss over the fact that, insofar the recent unrest in Tibet was accompanied by violence, that violence was initiated by the Tibetans themselves. And whilst one might vehemently diagree with China's rule over Tibet in the first place, it is possible that China's response to that violence was, in effect, proportional and more or less reasonable.

Then there's the issue of China's involvement in the horrendous Darfur crisis, which is an even weaker reason to argue for a possible boycott by virtue of the simple fact that China's involvement actually amounts to a non-involvement. The argument here - as again evinced by mainly Western critics - is that China, given its links to the Sudanese government, is not doing enough to ameliorate the situation in Darfur. When Steven Spielberg withdrew as artistic adviser for Beijing Games, he expressed this point of view as follows:

“Sudan’s Government bears the bulk of the responsibility for these ongoing crimes but the international community, and particularly China, should be doing more to end the continuing human suffering there,” [Spielberg said]. “China’s economic, military and diplomatic ties to the Government of Sudan continue to provide it with the opportunity and obligation to press for change."

China's policy in Africa, however, has been consistently non-intervenionist throughout. It is consistent, also, with China's own reaction to any outside interference in what it regards as its internal affairs, such as Tibet. China's inaction in Sudan can therefore hardly come as a surprise either. In addition to this, it's fair to say that the West's own policies with regard to Sudan (and Rwanda, and Congo, and Zimbabwe) have been remarkably passive as well. And to the extent that the West did attempt to pursue a positive and active role in Africa it has hardly been very successful. Had that been otherwise, all those African countries wouldn't have welcomed China with wide-open arms in the first place.

The reasons for awarding the 2008 Games to Beijing were, it seems to me, valid back in 2001. And if they were valid then, they are equally valid now (and, if only because of China's increasing importance on the world's economic stage, even more so). Boycotting the Games would be hypocritical and illogical, and it would have no other effect than to humiliate and isolate a country that we should be attempting to engage with.

A boycott - that is to say: a real boycott - should be out of the question. And it probably is: at this moment, no country has yet declared it will not allow its athletes to compete in Beijing.

That, however, leaves open the option of the boycott that isn't. And currently, world leaders - not to mention wannabe world leaders - are scrambling to grab hold of it. Neither the UK's Gordon Brown nor Germany's Angela Merkel, it has recently been announced, will attend the opening ceremony of the Games (although in Brown's case, it's the closing ceremony that counts, given the 2012 Games are in London). The Polish PM, Donald Tusk, has been a little braver is linking his absence unequivocally to the Tibetan issue, whilst today, the European Parliament urged all other European heads of state to follow suit.

Meanwhile, in the US, Clinton and Obama both have prompted Bush to go AWOL as well.

So, it seems, we'll end up with the silliest of all things: a boycott that not only has no impact, but that is intended to have no impact. And rather like Representatives Ney and Jones, we'll all be watching the Games come August to our hearts' content, happily munching our way through our freedom fries (though they'll be stir-fried, this time round) and secure in the knowledge that we Did Something About It All.

In their bid to win the 2008 Games, the Chinese confirmed that the Games would "advance the social agenda of China, including human rights". I suspect that they believe they have adhered to this "pledge", and are in all honesty wondering what on earth hit them.

The US Elections: The Popular Vote Myth

Things seem relatively quiet today on the Democratic front. As a result, a little news snippet that otherwise might have only have led to a comment or two in passing has been given some attention, if still not enough.

It's the assertion by two stalwart Clinton supporters, John Murtha and Jon Corzine, that Clinton needs to win the popular vote to have any real chance of winning the nomination.

Now the relevance of this seems obvious enough. Clinton can't realistically hope to overtake Obama in terms of the pledged delegate count. To stay alive and have a shot at convincing the superdelegates to back her, she needs to be able to argue that the voters, overall, prefer her to Obama.

And if that argument could be made truthfully, it might be persuavive (although not in itself conclusive). After all, quite a few Democrats are still smarting from the fact that Bush bested Gore in 2000, in spite of the fact that Gore led the popular vote by about 500,000. What could be worse than that the Democrats, after having to accept that grievous injustice, were then to turn around and inflict it upon themselves?

You can see how this could be a seen as a strong argument. It is, however, fundamentally flawed for a number of reasons.

The first flaw is as blatantly obvious as it is convincing. The Democrats set up their own rules when it comes to choosing their nominee. What they've chosen is a delegate system, not a system based on the popular vote. There's no reason on earth why they couldn't have switched to a popular vote system if they'd wanted to. They didn't. They chose for a system whereby the delegate count was the determining factor.

The second flaw, though, is the one that I find more interesting at the moment. It's this: how on earth does one actually determine the popular vote?

In the presidential election, that's easy enough. The count can certainly be hampered by technical issues - which is what happened in Florida in 2000 - but the idea is that everyone gets to vote in basically the same way, all the votes get counted and that it.

Not so in the primary season. For starters, when it comes to the popular vote there's a huge difference between primaries and caucuses. Turnout in caucuses is obviously very much lower than in primaries, so how does one compare the two? It would, perhaps, be possible to set up intricate number crunching models that would allow for some sort of extrapolation of a caucus turnout to a virtual primary. Alternatively, one could just accept the actual numbers. In both cases, however, it's essentially comparing apples and oranges.

Take, for example, State X. It's in the mid-West, and it looks a bit like Colorado. Or perhaps Oklahoma. It's got 5 million inhabitants; it's predominantly a red state, but it might just turn blue in November.

Now say it's a caucus state (like Colorado). Comes the caucus date, 100,000 people show up to vote for their Democratic candidate of choice. 60,000 vote for Obama, 40,000 for Clinton. In the total popular vote tally, that's a net gain of 20,000 for Obama.

But now let's assume X is a primary state (like Oklahoma). Suddenly, the turnout isn't 100,000. It's 400,000. Assuming the same divisions apply, Obama wins the popular vote by 80,000.

That makes for a significant difference in the popular vote tally. But that difference has nothing to do with the candidates or how well they're doing.

Now, the above example assumes that voters vote the same way whether it's a caucus or primary (the only variable being the number of voters). We all know that's not true. Caucus states favour the grass-roots candidate; primary states, by comparison, favour the more establishment candidate (whilst Texas, in an maudlin fit of madness, favours both).

In state X, if Obama would have won by a margin of 20,000 in a caucus, he may well have lost in a primary by, oh, 50,000 or so. And the vote tally would be totally different again.

So it's apples and oranges; oranges and apples. And that's just for starters.

Another thing to consider is that some states don't even release voter numbers. This is true for Iowa, Nevada, Washington and Maine. We simply do not no how many people voted for their candidate of choice in these states. If you think this is amazing, consider that these states are - quite rightly - working on the basis of the assumption that the popular vote isn't the deciding factor. So how to determine the popular vote in those states? You can't; the only option is to guesstimate.

A third issue centers on the debacle of Florida and Michigan. In the popular vote debate, does one count the voters in these states or not? And if so, how? In particular, it would certainly seem weird to include Michigan, where Clinton was the only major Democratic candidate to leave her name on the ballot after the DNC sanctions were levied. By what means could anyone assume the outcome in that state was a fair and balanced representation of the voters' views? Besides, the major non-Clinton vote went to a candidate called "Uncommitted". What is one to do with those votes in a popular vote tally? Any choice made is inevitably a wrong choice.

So, what does all this mean? Well, in the end, it's very simple. Given the Democratic nomination process in general and the specifics of this campaign, there simply is no way to accurately determine a relevant outcome of the popular vote.

As a result, the entire concept of Clinton potentially winning such a vote and thereby having a legitimate shot at the nomination is essentially a myth. With apologies to all those doing their very utmost to prove the opposite, it just can't be done. And that's as it should be: it's not what the Democrats wanted in the first place.

The US Elections: The Law of Unintended Consequences

In the 1970's, the US government provided the Shah of Iran with presses capable of printing currency of the same quality as American bills.

In 1979, the Shah decided to take a very long vacation; two weeks later, grand ayatollah Khomeini rode in triumph through Persepolis (oh all right, then, Tehran).

And then, some years later, counterfeit $100 bills began to flood the Mideast, eventually spreading around the world. Given the global dependency on American currency, these bills posed a serious problem for international markets. Accusatory fingers were pointed in various directions, but the most likely suspect was obvious: an anti-US Iranian government that possessed the very same printing presses used to create American money.

True or not, this story - which I found here - is a nice example of the Law of Unintended Consequences. This is the law that states, according to a Wikipedia entry, "that for any action one can will, there will always be some unintended consequences that result, that are not intended to be". Or, to put it a more simply: any action aimed at a certain consequence will have unintended consequences as well.

Even better examples of this law, it might be argued, can be found by looking at the various changes the Democrats have made in their presidential nomination process over the last 40 years.

Back in 1968, that nomination process was, to put it mildly, a very undemocratic thing. Yes, there were primaries, and so ordinary Democrats could go out and vote for their candidate of choice - but that choice didn't amount to much. And so, during that year’s disastrous DNC in Chicago, it wasn't the anti-Vietnam War candidate Eugene McCarthy who got the nomination. It was the insider Hubert Humphrey, who hadn't actually campaigned during during the primary season and who, during that campaign, had amassed no more than about 2% of the popular vote. And who, of course, went on to lose the election against Richard Nixon.

With riots having broken out on their very doorstep, the Dems felt it was time for an overhaul of the nomination process. A commission was set up - spearheaded by George McGovern - which resulted in the balance of power being shifted resolutely from the party elite to the voters. In effect, a new rule was added to the Delegate Selection Rules, Rule 11 (H), which stipulated that delegates at the convention were henceforth required to vote for the candidate they had been elected to support.

Unfortunately, though, the Law of Unintended Consequences set in straight away.

McGovern himself won the 1972 nomination on the basis of the new rules, only to lose - in a landslide - to the incumbent Nixon (a defeat due in part to the fact that the Democratic establishment didn't like McGovern at all, leading some of them to actively campaign for Nixon). Four years on, a second surprise materialised in the form of Jimmy Carter, another outsider who astounded the party elite by clinching the nomination. And whilst Carter did, of course, go on to win the White House, it is difficult to this day to find a sentence containing his name that does not also include the words “failed presidency”: by the end of his first term, the aforementioned Khomeini had set up shop in Iran and a resounding defeat to Ronald Reagan was a foregone conclusion.

All in all, the new delegate voting rule had had just about the opposite result it was intended to have. Instead of ensuring that viable and popular candidates were nominated to the delight of radical and moderate Democrats alike, it had effectively strengthened the party’s penchant for internal bickering and the likelihood of bickering's baby - a.k.a. the Democrats' nominee - being The Wrong Guy.

It was, in short, a triumph for the Law.

Not surprisingly, a new change was deemed to be in order. Another commission was set up, led by Governor Jim Hunt of North Carolina, which argued - with astonishing success - that a substantial slice of the power to nominate should revert back to the party bosses.

Here's a snippet from what Hunt said at the time:

“We must also give our convention more flexibility to respond to changing circumstances and, in cases where the voters’ mandate is less than clear, to make a reasoned choice. One step in this direction would be to loosen the much-disputed “binding” Rule 11 (H) as it applies to all delegates. An equally important step would be to permit a substantial number of party leader and elected official delegates to be selected without requiring a prior declaration of preference. We would then return a measure of decision-making power and discretion to the organized party and increase the incentive it has to offer elected officials for serious involvement.”

Now, to understand this, one should realise that "loosening" Rule 11 (H) meant that pledged delegates would no longer be compelled to act in accordance with the wishes of the electorate,
but that their votes should still “in all good conscience reflect the sentiments of those who elected them”. The pledged delegates, in other words, were still bound, even though the rule binding them was deliberately worded vaguely.

More importantly, however, the proposals called for the creation of a new and “substantial” class of delegates who would, by definition, not be bound by the popular vote at all. If you're wondering who belongs to this “substantial" class, don't. You know who they are: they're called superdelegates.

Fast forward to 2008. We still live by these two Hunt tenets. And they are, as everyone knows, the lifeline of the Clinton campaign. Well, one of them, at least: whilst technically it's conceivable some pledged delegates would allow their “good conscience” to ignore the voters’ wishes (something Clinton has recently pointed out) – Clinton's only truly viable option lies with the superdelegates.

But the way that option currently might work out is, again, a prime example of the Law of Unintended Consequences.

You see, when Hunt made his proposals, there was understandable opposition from the left of the party. These were basically the people who favoured Edward Kennedy above the more establishment figure of Walter Mondale; and they included, amongst others, the party feminists.

These people weren’t against the “loosening” of Rule 11 (H); in fact, it was Kennedy himself who, during the 1980 DNC, argued that pledged delegates could shift allegiance if they felt like it (Kennedy’s interest in this being that Carter had managed to get more delegates during the primary campaign than he had done). They were, however, very much opposed to the creation of the superdelegate class.

The feminists, in particular, were ready to wage a war on that issue. They felt that the superdelegates would be predominately white and male, and that – even if women made up about half of the total of all delegates – a male-dominated, unpledged superdelegate class amounted to an unacceptable shift in power.

In the end, they didn't manage to land any real blows, though. Unbeknownst to them, a deal was struck between the Kennedy and Mondale camps and the superdelegates were a reality, the compromise being that they didn’t make up 30% of the delegate total (as Hunt had proposed), but only 14%. The feminists were left gnashing their teeth in frustration, as a recent article by Susan Estrich – who spearheaded the feminist front at the time - makes clear.

Back to the current campaign and, indeed, the future. If there is one group supporting Clinton for president, it is the group of Democratic feminists. These are the women who sometimes seem to be having real (and therefore often honest) difficulties in understanding that a Democrat could prefer Obama to Clinton without being driven by suspect and perhaps sexist motives. They are the ones I wrote about – not too seriously - in The Wondrous World of Misogyny.

But they are also the ones whose only hope of a nomination success rests entirely in the hands of the superdelegate class, a class which they must now firmly support and which in their minds must surely see reason and help overturn that horrid pledged delegate count.

And so the Law threatens to strike again. If it were ever true, as the feminists argued, that the superdelegate rule threatened to adversely affect a woman candidate’s chances, then these same feminists are now fervently hoping that the actual consequence of that rule turns out to be the exact opposite.

They are, in effect, banking on the Law to take full effect once again.

And, to be fair, their hope is not without merit: Clinton has led in the superdelegate count right from the word go. And in spite of everything - and, frankly, there have been a few too many everythings lately - she does so still. It is, even now, very possible indeed that the Law might ultimately pull her through.

As for those printing presses in Iran, though, I hold lesser hopes. Frankly, I doubt they’re in much use today. Unless, of course, some bright soul managed to convert 'em to produce Euro bills instead.

The US Elections: The Wright Stuff

So much has been written and said about the speech Obama gave that morning in Pennsylvania on March 18th that it sort of boggles the mind.

Well, it boggled my mind, at least.

Now that some time has passed and we're back to simpler issues (such as Clinton's amusingly fictional heroics at Tuzla), I guess it might be time to try and give a few comments of my own.

The first - and very obvious - thing that caught my attention is how differently the speech was viewed by the commentators. As a result, they initially reminded me of the blind men examining their elephant, all of them coming up with surprisingly self-confident conclusions that were often partly true and always partly wrong.

Here are two quotes which illustrate this. The first is from a piece written by Andrew Sullivan for The Atlantic Magazine:

"(...) I do want to say that this searing, nuanced, gut-wrenching, loyal, and deeply, deeply Christian speech is the most honest speech on race in America in my adult lifetime. It is a speech we have all been waiting for for a generation. Its ability to embrace both the legitimate fears and resentments of whites and the understandable anger and dashed hopes of many blacks was, in my view, unique in recent American history."

The second is from Charles Krauthammer's article in The Washington Post:

"The question is why didn't [Obama] leave that church? Why didn't he leave -- why doesn't he leave even today -- a pastor who thundered not once but three times from the pulpit (on a DVD the church proudly sells) "God damn America"? Obama's 5,000-word speech, fawned over as a great meditation on race, is little more than an elegantly crafted, brilliantly sophistic justification of that scandalous dereliction."

Huh? Are these two people actually talking about the same thing? How did Obama manage to give what was a relatively compact speech and end up with something "we have all been waiting for for a generation" and reveal a "scandalous dereliction"?

Well, as mentioned, the elephant answer is the first to spring to mind. To paraphrase John Godfrey Saxe: each disputant, it seems, is railing on in apparant ignorance of what the other means. They're prattling on about an elephant they're not able or willing to look at in total.

I have come to believe, though, that this answer doesn't quite cut it. It's true as far as it goes, but it ignores a very basic fact: however diametrically opposed the reactions to the speech at first seem to be, there is also an underlying similarity.

Consider for a moment Krauthammer's outrage at Wright's words "God damn America!"

And now compare it to the the final part of the Andrew Sullivan article:

"Bill Clinton once said that everything bad in America can be rectified by what is good in America. He was right - and Obama takes that to a new level. And does it with the deepest darkest wound in this country's history.

I love this country. I don't remember loving it or hoping more from it than today."

Isn't Sullivan in effect saying: "Listen to Obama. Isn't this a great country?" And isn't Krauthammer saying: "Don't listen to that crazy anti-American pastor! This is a great country!"?

Taken that way, don't they - in essence - have a similar starting point? The fact that they nevertheless totally disagree is not because their approaches are different. It's because they apply the same approach differently. Sullivan is enthralled with what Obama said because, for him, it exemplifies America's greatness. Krauthammer is appalled by what Wright said because he feels it disavows that greatness.

The underlying notion is, however, identical: the perceived notion of the inherent greatness of America. And since America is the land of the free and the home of the brave, Americans are great too.

Americans, to put it another way, have the right stuff. To quote Tom Wolfe:

"(...) and the idea was to prove at every foot of the way up that pyramid that you were one of the elected and anointed ones who had the right stuff and could move higher and higher and even – ultimately, God willing, one day – that you might be able to join that special few at the very top, that elite who had the capacity to bring tears to men's eyes, the very Brotherhood of the Right Stuff itself."

America is great; Americans are great: it is this idea, it seems to me, that is ingrained in both Sullivan's and Krauthammer's minds. And it's hardly surprising: it is, after all, ingrained in the minds of the vast majority of Americans. Children are basically force-fed it every day as they pledge their allegiance. Sport fans enact it with their invarying cries of "USA! USA!" at every international competition. And again and again, it is evoked at times of difficulty, most recently by John McCain in his first presidential election ad ("Stand up! We're Americans and we'll never surrender!")

But this is also, perhaps, the very idea that invites comparison between commentators like Sullivan and Krauthammer on the one hand, and those reputedly wise men and their elephant on the other. Unlike the wise men, though, Sullivan and Krauthammer aren't really blind; instead, they choose not to see. In his outpouring of love for America upon hearing Obama's words, Sullivan chooses to essentially ignore the fact that it is America that not only has given but still gives rise to the dark anger of Wright; in denouncing Obama, Krauthammer chooses to ignore those that are willing to work towards bridging a very real divide, and that one of them - by some rather miraculous twist of fate - has a very real chance of becoming president.

And because of this, it seems to me that this idea - this notion - of the right stuff, and the delusional but ubiquitous idea that it has already been attained, is preventing America from truly dealing with the Wright stuff. And from becoming - ultimately, God willing, one day - great.

US Elections: Clinton's test

Throughout the primary campaign, Hillary Clinton's major strategy in attempting to prevail over Barack Obama has revolved around creating the perception that she has the experience to lead the country, whilst Obama hasn't.

In the beginning, the Clinton mantra was: "Ready on Day One". More recently, her line of attack has focused on foreign policy and national security concerns, culminating in what must be one of the strangest statements of the campaign so far:

"I think that I have a lifetime of experience that I will bring to the White House. I know Senator McCain has a lifetime of experience to the White House. And Senator Obama has a speech he gave in 2002."

Leaving aside the obvious fact that the satement is rather illogical (doesn't everyone alive have, per definition, a lifetime of experience?) and politically very imprudent (any such "lifetime" argument is bound to favour McCain), it is also contradictory with Clinton's flirtatious suggestions that Obama could be her VP running mate. After all, far and away the most important qualification a vice president needs is to be ready and able to take over office at a moment's notice. So how can Obama not have a "lifetime of experience" and not be "Ready on Day One" and still make a good VP?

Rather like Clinton's foreign policy claims, the statement is undoubtedly "a wee bit silly".

Even more silly, however, are the ways in which the Clinton campaign has attempted to explain their reasoning. In order to do this, they have made up what they call "a commander in chief test".

Now obviously no such test exists (although setting it up might actually not be such a bad idea: please tell us, Contestant Number 1, who the next president of Russia will be?). But that doesn't prevent the likes of Howard Wolfson (Clinton's chief spokesman) from using their fabrication in order to explain their position:

Asked about the contradiction of touting Obama as a vice presidential candidate while condemning his ability to lead, Clinton spokesman Howard Wolfson implied there was still time for Obama to prove himself before the Democratic Party convention in Denver in August.

"We do not believe Senator Obama has passed the commander in chief test," Wolfson said. "But there is a long way to go between now and Denver."

Ah, I see. So whether Obama can or cannnot become VP - or, indeed, president - is dependent upon how well he's going to do in a nonexistent test, the results of which are to be determined by the Clinton campaign?

Hmm. That goes beyond being a wee bit silly. It's disturbingly delusional.

The US Elections: The MaD race

So, Mississippi has come and gone, leaving Obama with yet another big but curiously unappealing victory. Depending upon whose figures you trust most, he won by about 60% or 61% to Clinton's 38% or 37%. In the pledged delegate count, he notched up 17 of the blighters, as compared to Clinton's 11.

More or less simultaneously, we finally got some projections from the Texas caucus. CNN is predicting that Obama's lead there will translate to 38 delegates, as opposed to Clinton's 29. If you set this off against the primary in that state (which Clinton narrowly won) you end up with an overal Texan "victory" for Obama amounting to a net gain of 5 pledged delegates.

Torturous math, indeed! No wonder a lot of pundits have been bemoaning the Democrats' proportional voting system. If only those overly fair Democrats had adopted the hard and fast winner-takes-all approach of the Republicans!

But wait a moment. What would be the situation if the Democrats had done that? Assume, for a moment, that each and every state where the Democrats' contenders have competed had allocated all their delegates to the winner, regardless of his or her margin of victory. And while we're at it, let's take the uncertainty of the superdelegates out of the equation as well and assume all superdelegates pledged themselves according to the vote in their state.

According to my (possibly slightly shaky) math, here's where we'd be after the Mississippi primary:

Obama: 1695 delegates
Clinton: 1660 delegates

In other words, the race would actually be closer than it is now.

Now I'm not suggesting that these would have been the actual figures if the Democratic primary had been structured along the lines of the Republican one. I am suggesting, however, that it is quite likely that such a system would, in this particular instance, not have provided the clarity many people seem to take for granted.

The problem, of course, is that this race has basically been split down the middle from the word go. It's been Clinton vs. Obama all the way, and as the race runs, so do the demographics: whites and blacks; blue-collars and "upscales"; young and old.

And this is why yesterday's victory may well leave a slightly sour taste in Obama's mouth. Yes, he won big, but he won big because of the black vote. Gone, it seems, are the days when it appeared he was significantly broadening his appeal with white voters in general (remember Virginia?). Core components of that constituency - ordinary, everyday workers and "older" women - remain as elusive as ever, if not more so.

And this is also why Clinton can afford to be just a little bit optimistic. Her "big states" rhetoric falls a little flat when taken only in the context of the primaries (where a delegate from Wyoming counts every bit as much as one from Ohio), but come the fall and the vagaries of presidential electorial system, things could work out a little differently.

Math and Demography: it's a MaD race.

International Affairs: A Step Towards War?

Forget, for the moment, Geraldine Ferraro's ill-advised comments about Obama (which, incidentally, nicely compliment yesterday's post, The Wondrous World of Misogyny). Forget, too, Spitzergate, the latest instalment in that ever-popular soap, Politics & Sex.

The news that should - but probably won't - dominate the headlines today is the sudden and premature "retirement" of Admiral William J. Fallon. In case you didn't know, Fallon is the commander of the United States Central Command (known as CentCom). As such, he is effectively David Petraeus's boss. You'll know who Petraeus is, of course: he's the guy spear-heading the war in Iraq.

Fallon retired? Now that's the sort of news that makes me feel a little queasy.

Why? Well because, simply put, Fallon is generally seen as being the top brass that's been calmly and quietly attempting to edge Bush away from what could be an international catastrophe on a scale to actually eclipse the Iraq invasion: a war against Iran.

Now, however, he's been fired. Yes, fired (the "retired" thing is, I am sure, a smoke screen). The reason is clear enough: it was an article published last week in Esquire, appropriately called "The Man Between War and Peace". In it, the author, Thomas P.M. Barnett, writes:

Just as Fallon took over Centcom last spring, the White House was putting itself on a war footing with Iran. Almost instantly, Fallon began to calmly push back against what he saw as an ill-advised action. Over the course of 2007, Fallon's statements in the press grew increasingly dismissive of the possibility of war, creating serious friction with the White House.
Last December, when the National Intelligence Estimate downgraded the immediate nuclear threat from Iran, it seemed as if Fallon's caution was justified. But still, well-placed observers now say that it will come as no surprise if Fallon is relieved of his command before his time is up next spring, maybe as early as this summer, in favor of a commander the White House considers to be more pliable. If that were to happen, it may well mean that the president and vice-president intend to take military action against Iran before the end of this year and don't want a commander standing in their way.
And so Fallon, the good cop, may soon be unemployed because he's doing what a generation of young officers in the U. S. military are now openly complaining that their leaders didn't do on their behalf in the run-up to the war in Iraq: He's standing up to the commander in chief, whom he thinks is contemplating a strategically unsound war.

A war against Iran? Now? Surely that's unthinkable... Yes, but most reasonable people felt more or less the same way shortly before March 20, 2003. And look where that got us.

The US Elections: The Wondrous World of Misogyny

In yesterday's Los Angeles Times, there was an article by Leslie Bennetts titled "Go Away? Why Should She?"

The "she" is, of course Hillary Clinton.

Now it is true that recently - and certainly before the Ohio/Texas primaries - voices had been raised asking whether it might be best for Clinton to call it a day. And it is equally true that whilst arguments exist for suggesting such a departure, counter-arguments are readily found.

Given the title of her article, one might assume that Bennetts had set herself the task of pointing out what those counter-arguments actually are and why they should prevail.

Instead, Bennetts only mentions the Super Tuesday II results briefly and then heads off on a totally different tack. The reason why, she argues, some people want Clinton to quit is because they're misogynists.

She isn't the only one. Time and again I've encountered quite virulent comments on the Internet asserting, in one way or another, that Clinton would have wrapped up the nomination weeks ago if only The Misogynists hadn't come traipsing in with all their rampant... well, misogyny.

Gosh. Could that actually be true?

Well, duh! Of course it is! The logic is very clear indeed. Let me spell it out for you.

Firstly, Clinton is a better candidate than Obama. This superiority is a given. From this starting point, it follows that the people who nevertheless favor Obama over Clinton are motivated not by the candidates' merits, but by something else. Since Clinton is a woman, that something else must be misogyny.

Once you understand this, everything else becomes quite clear. Yes, Obama has won more states than Clinton. Yes, he's leading in the popular vote. And, yes, he's got more pledged delegates. But none of that has to do with Obama's qualities; it's all down to misogyny. It has to be, since Clinton is the better candidate.

At this point, you may wonder why Clinton is better than Obama. You may, in other words, question the starting point.

In that case, however, you haven't been paying proper attention. The only reason Obama is in the overal lead is because of The Misogynists. Take them out of the equation, and Clinton wins hands down. From this it follows that she's the better candidate.

It all makes perfect sense, you see. You just need to get into the right groove.

The US Elections: The Monster Mash

What monster have we here?
A great Deed at this hour of day?
A great just Deed — and not for pay?
Absurd, —or insincere.

- Elizabeth Browning, A Tale of Villafrance

No sooner had I posted about Obama's small window of opportunity or it was shut, it seems, by Samantha Power, one of Obama's chief foreign policy aides.

Who's Power, and what did she do?

Well, she's a very bright, relatively young graduate of both Yale and Harvard. She's American, but was born in Ireland. And she knows a hell of a lot about foreign policy issues, including - but certainly not limited to - Darfur.

Unfortunately, she's also quite outspoken. And today, she resigned from the Obama campaign for making the following comment about Clinton to a reporter from The Scotsman:

"She is a monster, too – that is off the record – she is stooping to anything."

Hmm. Testing the virulence of American politics via the backdoor of the British tabloid press? That is not a very sensible course of action.

So it's bye bye Power. Thanks for your Pulitzer-prize winning book A Problem From Hell. Thanks for having some pretty original ideas. Thanks for being honest. Bye bye. Have a nice day, now!

But where does that leave Obama? It's obvious my previous notion of him wading into the "lost" delegate fray in decisively presidential fashion has become somewhat obsolete (in my defense: I posted that hours ago). The only decisiveness he could show was in damage control.

But what's the damage?

I think quite a lot of people - and not just the Clinton bashers - will recognise something in what Power said. I also think quite a lot of them may take some note of it - it was, after all, an obviously heartfelt remark not at all meant for public consumption. It was a remark by someone in the know. And, too, it was a remark made by a woman. In the end, perhaps, there is some truth in the adage: it takes one to know one.

In short, if someone like Samantha Power feels this way about Clinton, the question arises: could she be right?

To hark back to the Browning quote: what Clinton have we here?

I truly don't know.

The US Elections: Rise and Fall... and Rise?

Here's what I expected, just before the primaries got underway: Clinton would win by Super Tuesday, and Obama would have put in a strong innings, setting himself up nicely for 2012 0r 2016.

My expectations changed after South Carolina. Obama won the state by a landslide, and listening to his victory speech, I found myself thinking: "That guy's actually going to win".

Fast forward to the day before Super Tuesday II, and there was Clinton waving a memo on the meeting that took place between Canadian officials and Obama's senior economic advisor. Somewhere in the background, a phone was ringing. And I thought - for want of a better word - "Oops".

It's now three days after Texas and Ohio, and whilst the delegate math might suggest otherwise, everything's changed again.

In an article in today's New York Times, David Brooks put it like this:

Barack Obama had a theory. It was that the voters are tired of the partisan paralysis of the past 20 years. The theory was that if Obama could inspire a grass-roots movement with a new kind of leadership, he could ride it to the White House and end gridlock in Washington (...)

Yes, but that didn't take into account actually losing important states. Brooks goes on to say:

There are a few ways to interpret the losses in Texas and Ohio. One is demographic. He didn’t carry the groups he often has trouble with — white women, Latinos, the less educated. The other is tactical. Clinton attacked him, and the attacks worked.

The consultants, needless to say, gravitate toward the tactical interpretation. And once again the cry has gone up for Obama to get tough.

And Brooks points out that, this time, Obama's heeding that advice. He's going after Clinton. The result?

These attacks are supposed to show that Obama can’t be pushed around. But, of course, what it really suggests is that Obama’s big theory is bankrupt. You can’t really win with the new style of politics. Sooner or later, you have to play by the conventional rules.

So, is Brooks right? If so, Obama's finished. Yes, he won more states, got more delegates, and he's ahead in the popular vote. But if Tuesday's result unearths the fact that Obama doesn't believe in his own theory, no-one else will, either. He'll go limping towards the Democratic convention with an ever dwindling advantage, and upon his arrival the superdelegates will snuff him out like a spent candle. And they'd be right to do so

So, it's up to Obama to prove Brooks and those like him wrong. And he'll have to do it quickly, before Clinton entagles him further into the web of old-fashioned political shenanigans.

He needs to revigorate his campaign. And since his campaign is basically about himself and his ideals, no atttack on Clinton, however effective, can suffice.

Can he do it? Yes, I think he can. In fact, I think the answer might be fairly simple.

Think Florida. Think Michigan. Think about all the horrendous wrangling over the "lost" delegates in these two states. It's a classic example of just about everything that's wrong with American politics. Does anyone actually believe in the sincerity of Governors Crist and Granholm when they say the disenfranchisement of their voters in "unconscionable"? For God's sake, they're the ones who signed the legislature that led to that disenfranchisement in the first place! And does anyone have any doubt as to Clinton's motives in trying to seat the "lost" delegates?

So what does Obama do? He does the exact opposite of what everyone expects. At a rally, a press conference - somewhere, in any case, where he can look presidential - he gently criticises the current state of affairs and firmly requests full new primaries for both states.

Sounds crazy? Think about it a minute.

If Obama were to take such a step, he'd be showing leadership. He'd be seen stepping in to end what already is an very unattractive spectacle. And he probably would end it, too, showing not just good judgement but effectiveness as well. Just as importantly, he'd be seen as someone willing to act in the public interest and not just his own. After all, Florida and Michigan are not states he's currently expected to win.

And here's the kicker: he'd probably be doing himself a big favour, as well. Some sort of re-vote is going to take place anyway, and what better way to woo the voters than to actually stand up for them?

Finally, will he do anything like this? Unfortunately, he won't. He's still got a small window of opportunity, but I just don't see him jumping through it. After all, that would take real guts. And American politics - indeed, American life - is not about guts. In the end, it's not about ideals, or justice , or doing the right thing.

It's about winning.