…in which ‘Gigli’ is referenced once, and both Sledgehammers twice.

Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership of the UK Labour Party seems… challenged? Both in the sense that it is being challenged, and the leadership challenge is itself challenged. Angela Eagle and Owen Jones are seeking to replace Mr. Corbyn, whilst the membership of the party seems to think Jeremy is a-okay in their books, and the Parliamentary Labour Party is just a bunch of self-interested jerks.

Yet it is fair to say that if you trust the polls, a Jeremy Corbyn-led Labour Party does not look like a sure winner should there be an election tomorrow. Now, let’s leave to one side the idea that either Eagle or Jones could turn that around (in part because to have that conversation, we have to discuss the sheer damage their camps are doing to the Party and its traditional support base, just in order to win a nominal election), and talk polls. Because polls are big business, and it seems that the common wisdom about polling is that they are no longer accurate.

Actually, let’s leave that to one side as well, because talk of the accuracy of polling is both boring, and terrible technical. As someone wise once said, there are lies, damn lies, and blogposts about statistical sampling techniques. No, let us focus our attention on this!

[H/T: Tom Freeman]

As the author of that image points out, ‘There are 2 possible explanations for Corbyn’s terrible poll ratings. It’s tricky, they both seem equally plausible.’

Yes, it’s the dilemma; is Corbyn just a bad leader who needs to be replaced, or is he opposed by vested interests. Depending on how you collect your evidence, one or the other (let’s just pretend the theses on offer are exhaustive and exclusive hypotheses), you will believe (or come to believe) one or the other.

How we gather evidence is important, but one thing that many people overlook (or just plain forget) is that our background beliefs inform how we both find new evidence, and how we interpret the evidence. The person who believes no one in their right mind would ever vote for a pacifist as PM will privilege (consciously or subconsciously) the evidence which confirms that hypothesis, whilst explaining away or ignoring evidence to the contrary. This is no pathology of reasoning which is the exclusive domain of any one group of reasoners; everybody does this, from poorly-paid philosophers, to the CEOs of Silicon Valley ventures. Evidence does not so much determine which theories to believe so much as theories determine what counts as actual evidence in a time and place.

I bring this up now to tell you what to think about poor Jeremy Corbyn and the UK Labour Party. Rather, I want to shuffle our attention to what happened in Turkey last week. Go read this.

Now, just in case you have a little short-term memory loss (because you’ve maybe had a drink or two, or you didn’t go click on that link…), the story is this: Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan blamed Fethullah Gülen, a former compatriot who now lives in Pennsylvania, as being behind the military uprising in Turkey last week. Gülen, however, blames Erdoğan for the ‘purported coup’ in Turkey, claiming it could have been staged by the government.

False flag!

Now, as someone who has followed Turkish politics for a while now, I was perplexed by the coup. On one hand, Erdoğan seems like a bad ruler, one who is slowly dismantling a once liberal democracy founded on secular values, in order to carve out a place in the history books for himself. Erdoğan has expanded the powers of the president, reduced the political clout of the PM, sacked judges he doesn’t agree with, restricted the media, and so forth. He seems like a despot, and he’s even built himself a palace. On the other hand, military coups are bad, m’kay. ((I had similar perplexed feelings about the military coup in Fiji.))

So, what to make of the claim the coup was a false flag? It certainly seems possible; as sources in Turkey have pointed out, Erdoğan clamped down on the coup quickly and ruthlessly. He had a list of nearly three thousand coup linked judges that needed to be arrested at the ready, and another featuring over one and a half thousand military personnel. It all seemed a little convenient.

Or did it? Erdoğan knows he has enemies, and presumably keeps tabs on them. It’s not that unreasonable to think he’s been making a list of who’s naughty and nice (and checking it twice), and the aftermath of coup was simply the best time to make use of it. The fact Erdoğan was prepared to purge his enemies does not necessarily tell us much at all about the coup, but it does tell us something about Erdoğan’s ruthlessness.

Indeed, it’s in the interest of Hizmet (the rival political movement headed by Gülen) to ensure that the failure of the coup can be explained away with respect to Erdoğan’s known characteristics. Erdoğan has been reshaping Turkish political life for a while now, and what better to finalise that process than the reaction to a coup? Even if Gülen doesn’t really believe Erdoğan organised the coup, it makes sense for Hizmet to suggest it. It explains the failure of the coup (because it was never meant to succeed), allows Hizmet to distance itself from the coup and its leaders (since Hizmet opposes Erdoğan, so cannot really have been in on it), and it gives them another angle on just how bad Erdoğan really is.

So, from the perspective of someone who suspects Erdoğan of great ills, the idea he might have been the hidden hand behind the coup is an idea I’m happy to toy with. My prior judgements about his general character means I can see how this could be part of his plot to take sole charge of Turkey. Yet I’m not going to let my scepticism of Erdoğan’s good faith to overlook the PR benefits Gülen and Hizmet gain by suggesting Erdoğan might have organised the coup. Yes, it was convenient in the end to Erdoğan, because he has managed to purge elements opposing his reign in Turkey. Yet, if the coup was genuine, that was a predictable result nonetheless; you don’t typically get a second chance at a coup, something the conspirators would have known going in.

…in which no one has read the document in question.

Call it an academic Ponzi scheme, or yet another way in which publishers make coin off of the free labour of researchers (note: my tongue is firmly in cheek ((As the editor notes in the comments, the Social Epistemology Review and Reply Collective (SERRC) is owned by its members, not Routledge (who publish Social Epistemology, the journal my article was in), and no one at the SERRC gets compensated for their work.))), but I have been invited to pen a reply to Lee Basham's response to my paper, 'When inferring that a conspiracy theory might be the best explanation'. It's a curious task (and ask), because Basham's response isn't exactly critical of my paper. At worse he accuses me of not going far enough in my analysis, and yet even that criticism (slight though it might be) is tempered with the admittance that, really, there were two tasks, and I chose – in this paper – to focus on one of them.

Basham notes (citing Australian philosopher David Coady as support) that 'A careful attention to conspiracy theories of society-shaping events is basic to any healthy democracy.' This is a point on which we are both in agreement. Yet Basham pushes a point which should be basic to anyone's understanding of the kind of Western democracies (he sensibly restricts his talk – as most of us should who are not political theorists proper – to the kind of political systems we 'know and love'): conspiracies are everywhere, and not just that, they are normal.

Basham's argument is simple, yet like many a good philosophical argument, has a conclusion many seem to take to be contradictory to common sense. He points out that:

If we start with personal experience, conspiracy explanations are natural, ordinary and often justified. We are a communication driven, highly social coordination-able species, imbued with the gift of tactical deception. We are also adept at intentionally coordinating this ability with others.

One might be tempted to link this behaviour with that of our close cousins, but given I'm no expert in primatology, I couldn't possibly comment. ((An in-joke for those who know me.))

Basham goes on to ask the sensible question:

Don’t our political and economic elites retain these abilities? Why should we expect they neglect our well-developed human powers for cooperative deception when shaping the course of a polis? What is the reasoning, psychological, sociological, epistemic or otherwise, that indicates they would?

The argument is this: if conspiratorial activity is normal in everyday life, why would we think it is abnormal (and thus accusations thereof being deserving of ridicule) in political life?

The answer is, I think (and I can confidently say Basham also thinks) is a combination of the status quo (everything thinks this because everyone has been told to think this by people who already thought it in the past), as well as a certain Establishmentarian thinking; it's best people think of conspiracy theories derisively, because we don't really want people thinking badly of the existing democratic structures we have in the West.

The Establishmentarian mindset (found in both the politics of the centre left and the centre right) is a curious one, give that it sometimes produces unusual (and illiberal) consequences. As Jack Z. Bratich notes in his wonderful book 'Conspiracy Panics: Political Rationality and Popular Culture', liberalism can be a remarkably intolerant political position, given that the sensible middle is where all political actors should desire to be. As such, when marginal voices grow loud, the standard liberal reaction is to chastise the fringe for not adhering to the politics of the centre, even if the centre is failing to address the issue at stake. Black lives matter? No, all lives matter! Trans folk are being mistreated by the Police and Corrections? Don't upset the queer police and corrections officers by mentioning that fact!

Yet for our case here, the weirdest Establishment reaction to talk of conspiracies (or even just open and corrupt behaviour) within the polis has been the talk of giving up on democracy. Take, for example, Andrew Sullivan's piece in The New York Magazine, which effectively argues that democracy is ruining things for the political class who know what is best for us. Let's leave to one side the worry that history doesn't exactly show that this class really does act in the best interest of the polis, or the idea that even if the political class is an epistemic elite who knows best, surely we should still be asking 'Quis custodiet ipsos custodes'. No, let's just focus on the idea that this fosters belief in conspiracy theories, because it signals to the rest of us that we cannot be trusted to know our best interests, and sometimes people have to work to save us from ourselves in secret. ((For another example of weird Establishmentarian thinking leading to undemocratic consequences, see Cass Sunstein's and Adrian Vermeule's 'Conspiracy Theories: Causes and Cures', in which the authors argue the best way to cure society of conspiracy theories is to conspire against the conspiracy theorists. Both Eco and DeLillo wrote about this in an almost satirical sense, but some people advocate this as policy.))

Conspiracies are part-and-parcel of our political culture. Where Basham 'chastises' me is not 'pursuing this more basic issue', but then praises me for opting:

[T]o “get his hands dirty” with the details of today’s strategies in academia and derivatively in mainstream media, to avoid alternative conspiracy theories.

In essence, Basham is pushing me to turn my attention to the other, and larger, concern of primary epistemic sources in our information hierarchies. The issue is not just 'What are our sources for claims that particular conspiracies are, or are not, occurring?' Rather, it is dual question of what those sources are/how we identify them, and what our epistemic (and I would say ethical) obligations are with respect to these sources.

This is a challenge I am willing to accept. Largely because I am already working on this more basic issue. My new project, 'Investigating Conspiracy Theories', which I will be working on in Bucharest come the end of this year, is the chance to get my other hand dirty (so to speak). But news of how that project will deal with the issues Basham raises must wait, necessarily, for the 'cautious and measured' work I am known for.

…in which Matthew mispronounces, and Josh sings.

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