Frank Rich nails it again.

July 3, 2005
The Two Wars of the Worlds
By FRANK RICH

ON the morning after George W. Bush spoke to the nation from Fort Bragg, Americans started marching off to Steven Spielberg’s “War of the Worlds.” Both halves of this double feature invoked 9/11, perfectly timed for this particular holiday. Ever since “Jaws,” a movie set on the July Fourth weekend, broke box office records 30 summers ago, Independence Day has come to stand for terror as much as for freedom.

Decide for yourself if “War of the Worlds” is more terrifying than “Jaws.” Either way, it’s scarier than the president’s speech. Yet the discrepancy between Mr. Spielberg’s ability to whip up fear and Mr. Bush’s inability isn’t merely a matter of aesthetics. On Independence Day 2005, this terror gap is an ideal barometer for gauging the waning political power of a lame-duck president waging what increasingly looks like a lame-duck war.

As we saw on Tuesday night, doomsday isn’t the surefire hit it used to be for Mr. Bush. Now that the rhetorical arsenal of W.M.D.’s and mushroom clouds is bare, he had little choice but to bring back that oldie but goodie, 9/11, as the specter of the doom that awaits us if we don’t stay the course – his course – in Iraq. By the fifth time he did so, it was hard not to think of that legendary National Lampoon cover: “If you don’t buy this magazine, we’ll kill this dog.”

Planned or not, the sepulchral silence of Mr. Bush’s military audience was the perfect dazed response to what was literally a summer rerun. The president gave almost the identical televised address, albeit with four fewer 9/11 references, at the Army War College in Pennsylvania in May 2004. It’s so tired that this time around even the normally sympathetic Drudge site gave higher billing to reviews of “War of the Worlds.” Fewer TV viewers tuned in than for any prime-time speech in Mr. Bush’s presidency. A good thing too, since so much of what he said was, as usual, at odds with reality. The president pledged to “prevent Al Qaeda and other foreign terrorists from turning Iraq into what Afghanistan was under the Taliban” a full week after Newsweek and The New York Times reported on a new C.I.A. assessment that the war may be turning Iraq into an even more effective magnet and training ground for Islamic militants than Afghanistan was for Al Qaeda in the 1980’s and 90’s.

“War of the Worlds” makes as many references to 9/11 as Mr. Bush did. The alien attack on America is the work of sleeper cells; the garments of the dead rain down on those fleeing urban apocalypse; poignant fliers are posted for The Missing. There is also a sterling American military that rides to the rescue. Deep in the credits for “War of the Worlds” is a thank-you to the Department of Defense and some half-dozen actual units that participated in the movie, from the Virginia Army National Guard to a Marine battalion from Camp Pendleton, Calif. Indeed, Mr. Spielberg seems to have had markedly more success in recruiting extras for his film than the Pentagon has had of late in drumming up troops for Iraq.

That’s not the only way that “War of the Worlds” shows up Mr. Bush. In not terribly coded dialogue, the film makes clear that its Americans know very well how to distinguish a war of choice like that in Iraq from a war of necessity, like that prompted by Al Qaeda’s attack on America. Tim Robbins – who else? – pops up to declare that when aliens occupy a country, the “occupations always fail.” Even Tom Cruise’s doltish teenage screen son is writing a school report on “the French occupation of Algeria.”

Mr. Spielberg’s movie illuminates, too, how Mr. Bush has flubbed the basic storytelling essential to sustain public support for his Iraq adventure. The president has made a tic of hammering in melodramatic movie tropes: good vs. evil, you’re with us or you’re with the terrorists, “wanted dead or alive,” “bring ’em on,” “mission accomplished.” When you relay a narrative in that style, the audience expects you to stick to the conventions of the genre; the story can end only with the cavalry charging in to win the big final battle. That’s how Mr. Spielberg deploys his platoons, “Saving Private Ryan”-style, in “War of the Worlds.” By contrast, Mr. Bush never marshaled the number of troops needed to guarantee Iraq’s security and protect its borders; he has now defined “mission accomplished” down from concrete victory to the inchoate spreading of democracy. To start off sounding like Patton and end up parroting Woodrow Wilson is tantamount to ambushing an audience at a John Wayne movie with a final reel by Frank Capra.

Both Mr. Bush’s critics and loyalists at times misunderstand where his failure leaves America now. The left frets too much that the public just doesn’t get it – that it is bamboozled by the administration and won’t see the light until it digests the Downing Street memo. But even if they couldn’t bring themselves to vote for John Kerry, most Americans do get it. A majority of the country view the Iraq war as “not worth it” and going badly. They intuitively sense that as USA Today calculated on Friday, there have been more U.S. military deaths (roughly a third more) in the year since Iraq got its sovereignty than in the year before. Last week an ABC News/Washington Post survey also found that a majority now believe that the administration “intentionally misled” us into a war – or, in the words of the Downing Street memo, that the Bush administration “fixed” the intelligence to gin up the mission.

Meanwhile, the war’s die-hard supporters, now in the minority, keep clinging to the hope that some speech or Rovian stunt or happy political development in the furtherance of democratic Iraqi self-government can turn public opinion around. Dream on. The most illuminating of all the recent poll numbers was released by the Pew Research Center on June 13: the number of Americans who say that “people they know are becoming less involved emotionally” with news of the war has risen from 26 percent in May 2004 to 44 percent now. Like the war or not, Americans who do not have a relative or neighbor in the fight are simply tuning Iraq out.

The president has no one to blame but himself. The color-coded terror alerts, the repeated John Ashcroft press conferences announcing imminent Armageddon during election season, the endless exploitation of 9/11 have all taken their numbing toll. Fear itself is the emotional card Mr. Bush chose to overplay, and when he plays it now, he is the boy who cried wolf. That’s why a film director engaging in utter fantasy can arouse more anxiety about a possible attack on America than our actual commander in chief hitting us with the supposed truth.

If anything, we’re back where we were in the lazy summer of 2001, when the president was busy in Crawford ignoring an intelligence report titled “Bin Laden Determined to Attack Inside the United States” and the news media were more preoccupied with a rash of “Jaws”-like shark attacks than with Al Qaeda. The sharks are back, and the “missing girl” drama of Natalee Holloway has echoed the Chandra Levy ur-text. Even the World Trade Center is making a comeback, if we are to believe that the new Freedom Bunker unveiled for ground zero might ever be built.

AS those on all sides of the Iraq argument have said, the only way for Mr. Bush to break through this torpor is to tell Americans the truth. Donald Rumsfeld did exactly that when he said a week ago that the insurgency in Iraq might last as long as 12 years. If that’s so, then what? Go ahead and argue that pulling out precipitously or setting a precise exit timetable is each a bad option, guaranteeing that Iraq will become even more of a jihad central than this ill-conceived war has already made it. But what is Plan C?

Mr. Bush could have addressed that question honestly on Tuesday night. Instead of once more cooking the books – exaggerating the number of coalition partners, the number of battle-ready Iraqi troops, the amount of non-American dollars in the Iraq kitty – he could have laid out the long haul in hard facts, explaining the future costs in manpower, money and time, and what sacrifices he proposes for meeting them. He could have been, as he is fond of calling himself, a leader.

It was a blown opportunity, and it’s hard to see that there will be another chance. Iraq may not be Vietnam, but The Wall Street Journal reports that the current war’s unpopularity now matches the Gallup findings during the Vietnam tipping point, the summer of 1968. As the prospect of midterm elections pumps more and more genuine fear into the hearts of Republicans up for re-election, it’s the Bush presidency, not the insurgency, that will be in its last throes. Is the commander in chief so isolated in his bubble that he does not realize this? G.W.B., phone home.

Do wars spread the same way as diseases?

Debora MacKenzie wonders whether politicians could learn how to keep the peace from epidemiologists

July 2, 2005 New Scientist

…In the June issue of PLoS Biology, Paul Ehrlich and Simon Levin of Stanford University in California have called for evolutionists, behavioural biologists and ecologists to start trying harder to model human cultural evolution. Useful models have so far eluded scientists. In particular, they say, we need to understand what controls the development of social “norms” which, among other things, govern war. The model they suggest is disease.

Richard Dawkins famously proposed the idea of the meme as a unit of cultural evolution, as the gene is for biological evolution. But Ehrlich and Levin say we have gained little understanding from trying to model memes as though they were genes. The two are just too different, they say: memes spread up, down and sideways in a population, not just from parent to offspring. They are impermanent. They vary enormously and quickly.

Yet that is exactly how pathogens behave. Like pathogens, ideas must infect a critical number of people before an epidemic starts. Some hosts are more susceptible than others. There are threshold phenomena, and superspreaders.

Similar ideas, Levin told me, were explored in The Tipping Point, writer Malcolm Gladwell’s bestseller of 2000, which used psychological research to show how fads and cultural norms spread much like diseaseì– the “tipping point” being the critical threshold of some event that triggers an epidemic. All these ideas seem sensible enough to make you wish a hard-nosed experimental epidemiologist would get to grips with them.

Because if ideas can spread like epidemics, then epidemiological understanding may suggest controls. The idea of launching a war, for example, reaches its tipping point when it has infected enough of the right people. After that point, it can become unstoppable. Could there be some way of recognising where those epidemic thresholds are and interfering, by launching counter-ideas among the right people in the same way that doctors launch vaccine drives against disease?

But pursue the analogy. We have a vaccine against the kinds of viruses most likely to cause the next flu pandemic, but it seems unlikely that we will be able to administer it in time to make much difference. If we ever develop a war vaccine, who will administer it?

Entering a dark age of innovation

New Scientist
02 July 2005

by Robert Adler

SURFING the web and making free internet phone calls on your Wi-Fi laptop, listening to your iPod on the way home, it often seems that, technologically speaking, we are enjoying a golden age. Human inventiveness is so finely honed, and the globalised technology industries so productive, that there appears to be an invention to cater for every modern whim.

But according to a new analysis, this view couldn’t be more wrong: far from being in technological nirvana, we are fast approaching a new dark age. That, at least, is the conclusion of Jonathan Huebner, a physicist working at the Pentagon’s Naval Air Warfare Center in China Lake, California. He says the rate of technological innovation reached a peak a century ago and has been declining ever since. And like the lookout on the Titanic who spotted the fateful iceberg, Huebner sees the end of innovation looming dead ahead. His study will be published in Technological Forecasting and Social Change.

It’s an unfashionable view. Most futurologists say technology is developing at exponential rates. Moore’s law, for example, foresaw chip densities (for which read speed and memory capacity) doubling every 18 months. And the chip makers have lived up to its predictions. Building on this, the less well-known Kurzweil’s law says that these faster, smarter chips are leading to even faster growth in the power of computers. Developments in genome sequencing and nanoscale machinery are racing ahead too, and internet connectivity and telecommunications bandwith are growing even faster than computer power, catalysing still further waves of innovation.

But Huebner is confident of his facts. He has long been struck by the fact that promised advances were not appearing as quickly as predicted. “I wondered if there was a reason for this,” he says. “Perhaps there is a limit to what technology can achieve.”

In an effort to find out, he plotted major innovations and scientific advances over time compared to world population, using the 7200 key innovations listed in a recently published book, The History of Science and Technology (Houghton Mifflin, 2004). The results surprised him.

Rather than growing exponentially, or even keeping pace with population growth, they peaked in 1873 and have been declining ever since (see Graphs). Next, he examined the number of patents granted in the US from 1790 to the present. When he plotted the number of US patents granted per decade divided by the country’s population, he found the graph peaked in 1915.

The period between 1873 and 1915 was certainly an innovative one. For instance, it included the major patent-producing years of America’s greatest inventor, Thomas Edison (1847-1931). Edison patented more than 1000 inventions, including the incandescent bulb, electricity generation and distribution grids, movie cameras and the phonograph.

Medieval future

Huebner draws some stark lessons from his analysis. The global rate of innovation today, which is running at seven “important technological developments” per billion people per year, matches the rate in 1600. Despite far higher standards of education and massive R&D funding “it is more difficult now for people to develop new technology”, Huebner says.

Extrapolating Huebner’s global innovation curve just two decades into the future, the innovation rate plummets to medieval levels. “We are approaching the ‘dark ages point’, when the rate of innovation is the same as it was during the Dark Ages,” Huebner says. “We’ll reach that in 2024.”

But today’s much larger population means that the number of innovations per year will still be far higher than in medieval times. “I’m certainly not predicting that the dark ages will reoccur in 2024, if at all,” he says. Nevertheless, the point at which an extrapolation of his global innovation curve hits zero suggests we have already made 85 per cent of the technologies that are economically feasible.

But why does he think this has happened? He likens the way technologies develop to a tree. “You have the trunk and major branches, covering major fields like transportation or the generation of energy,” he says. “Right now we are filling out the minor branches and twigs and leaves. The major question is, are there any major branches left to discover? My feeling is we’ve discovered most of the major branches on the tree of technology.”

But artificial intelligence expert Ray Kurzweil – who formulated the aforementioned law – thinks Huebner has got it all wrong. “He uses an arbitrary list of about 7000 events that have no basis as a measure of innovation. If one uses arbitrary measures, the results will not be meaningful.”

Eric Drexler, who dreamed up some of the key ideas underlying nanotechnology, agrees. “A more direct and detailed way to quantify technology history is to track various capabilities, such as speed of transport, data-channel bandwidth, cost of computation,” he says. “Some have followed exponential trends, some have not.”

Drexler says nanotechnology alone will smash the barriers Huebner foresees, never mind other branches of technology. It’s only a matter of time, he says, before nanoengineers will surpass what cells do, making possible atom-by-atom desktop manufacturing. “Although this result will require many years of research and development, no physical or economic obstacle blocks its achievement,” he says. “The resulting advances seem well above the curve that Dr Huebner projects.”

At the Acceleration Studies Foundation, a non-profit think tank in San Pedro, California, John Smart examines why technological change is progressing so fast. Looking at the growth of nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, Smart agrees with Kurzweil that we are rocketing toward a technological “singularity” – a point sometime between 2040 and 2080 where change is so blindingly fast that we just can’t predict where it will go.

Smart also accepts Huebner’s findings, but with a reservation. Innovation may seem to be slowing even as its real pace accelerates, he says, because it’s slipping from human hands and so fading from human view. More and more, he says, progress takes place “under the hood” in the form of abstract computing processes. Huebner’s analysis misses this entirely.

Take a modern car. “Think of the amount of computation – design, supply chain and process automation – that went into building it,” Smart says. “Computations have become so incremental and abstract that we no longer see them as innovations. People are heading for a comfortable cocoon where the machines are doing the work and the innovating,” he says. “But we’re not measuring that very well.”

Huebner disagrees. “It doesn’t matter if it is humans or machines that are the source of innovation. If it isn’t noticeable to the people who chronicle technological history then it is probably a minor event.”

A middle path between Huebner’s warning of an imminent end to tech progress, and Kurzweil and Smart’s equally imminent encounter with a silicon singularity, has been staked out by Ted Modis, a Swiss physicist and futurologist.

Modis agrees with Huebner that an exponential rate of change cannot be sustained and his findings, like Huebner’s, suggest that technological change will not increase forever. But rather than expecting innovation to plummet, Modis foresees a long, slow decline that mirrors technology’s climb.

At the peak

“I see the world being presently at the peak of its rate of change and that there is ahead of us as much change as there is behind us,” Modis says. “I don’t subscribe to the continually exponential rate of growth, nor to an imminent drying up of innovation.”

So who is right? The high-tech gurus who predict exponentially increasing change up to and through a blinding event horizon? Huebner, who foresees a looming collision with technology’s limits? Or Modis, who expects a long, slow decline?

The impasse has parallels with cosmology during much of the 20th century, when theorists debated endlessly whether the universe would keep expanding, creep toward a steady state, or collapse. It took new and better measurements to break the log jam, leading to the surprising discovery that the rate of expansion is actually accelerating.

Perhaps it is significant that all the mutually exclusive techno-projections focus on exponential technological growth. Innovation theorist Ilkka Tuomi at the Institute for Prospective Technological Studies in Seville, Spain, says: “Exponential growth is very uncommon in the real world. It usually ends when it starts to matter.” And it looks like it is starting to matter.