The privilege
I hate travelling. I loathe waiting, and travelling is the worse form of waiting. There’s the lengthy check-in process, the interminable boarding procedures, the mind-numbing journey itself, and a lot of rinsing and repeating. So, given in the last nine days I have been through Brisbane, Abu Dhabi, Amsterdam, Riga, Helsinki, Turku, and Stockholm, I guess you could say I’m tired of the tiredness of waiting around.
Yet griping about my growing enmity towards travelling would be to miss the point. I was flown by the organisers of the Baltic PR Awards to go to Riga and give a keynote. I went to Turku because I was invited to give a talk. Stockholm was a similar case, and now I am on a train to Lund to preach the gospel of rational conspiracy theorising.
I was discussing this with a colleague whilst we weathered the still seas between Turku and Stockholm; we are both very privileged to be able to travel to places abroad and spread the word of our work on conspiracy theories. The fact I don’t like the process of travelling should not weigh heavily on me; indeed, I should shuck the feeling, and embrace the fact I get to do something I enjoy doing all over the world.
Human psychology is an interesting thing, because telling oneself ‘Appreciate what you’ve got’ doesn’t necessarily get you the results you desire. Indeed, sometimes this is a good way to make yourself more annoyed, more grumpy with the world. ‘I’m trying’, I keep telling myself.
Why bring this up? Well, because if I have been silent these last few days, both here and on Twitter, it is because the moments between talks, and walks, and lengthy philosophical discussions, my moments to myself have been spent on planes, on trains, and on auto… ferries. Whilst there are exciting things to say, for the time being these moments to myself are proving to be moments of self-reflection.
More soon, once the life of a travelling academic becomes the relaxed face of a holiday-er abroad.
Video – Matthew visits Infowars
I’m off to Europe to give a series of talks about conspiracy theories this week, so en lieu of a lengthy post, here’s quarter of an hour of me visiting Infowars to see what Alex Jones and co. are saying about the world.
Next stop, Latvia!
Critiquing a murderer
If there was ever an example of how the adage ‘The evidence speaks for itself’ is mistaken, it’s the show Making a Murderer. The Netflix documentary series goes to great lengths to not only show up holes in the prosecution’s cases against Steve Avery and Brendan Dassey for the death of Teresa Halbach; it also seriously suggests that the Manitowoc County Sheriff’s Department planted evidence to secure a conviction. The also toys with the idea that the guilty verdicts Steve and his nephew, Brendan Dassey, received were motivated – at least in part – by local prejudices against the greater Avery clan.
All without the documentarians having to say a single word.
True crime documentaries have always been popular, but I guess after the success of The Jinx and Serial, there has been a resurgence in interest in how serious crimes are investigated and prosecuted. Serial in particular took what looked like a standard ‘Boyfriend murders ex-girlfriend’ story and prised apart the seemingly straightforward prosecution, revealing a case filled with unreliable witnesses for the State, and dodgy use of then-new digital forensic evidence. As I wrote here and here, Serial’s Sarah Koenig used evidence in a really interesting (but sometimes frustrating) way, contrasting the weight the prosecution and the defence placed on the evidence at trial with the results of her own investigation into the guilt or innocence of Adnan Syed.
Sarah’s voice is crucial for the effectiveness of Serial’s story-telling. In the case of Serial we have a fair idea of what Sarah is thinking, and it’s relatively easy to recognise what assumptions and prejudices she brings to the table. Serial was equal parts the story of Adnan Syed’s probable innocence and Sarah Koenig’s attempt to unravel a case well after it had been tried. Making A Murderer, however, has no narrator. Rather, the story of the prosecutions of Steve Avery and Brendan Dassey are told entirely via the careful selection of archival footage (and what are, I assume, a few modern day interviews). As such, Making a Murderer goes about the process of outlining the apparent injustices in the prosecutions of Steve Avery and Brendan Dassey in a quite different (and probably more problematic) way.
In my PhD, and then the book I based upon it (available here), I discuss how selectively citing evidence is one effective way to make a case look stronger than it might be. Making a Murderer presents the case for the defence, and – on the face of it – it looks strong. There are clear procedural issues in the State’s case, for example, and it seems reasonable to assume that some of the investigating officers were not playing fair. Yet whilst we are presented with obvious flaws in the prosecution’s case, it is still the case that the various appellate courts have upheld the guilty verdicts which were handed down. Crucially, we never see the legal reasoning of these higher courts. So, while their calls to uphold the guilty verdicts seem ridiculous, we are never told on what points of law the courts made their decision.
All of this is to say that what we’ve seen in Making a Murderer, I think he’s innocent of the crime the State claims he committed. ((Note the caveat here; I don’t know if Steve Avery is innocent of the crime of killing Teresa Halbach; I simply don’t think the State’s construal of what happened that day is plausible.)) But is very much ‘from what I’ve seen’. Unlike Serial, where Sarah Koenig at least toyed with the idea that maybe Adnan Syed was guilty, Making a Murderer never seeks to present the case for the prosecution as anything other than the product of a conspiracy by the Manitowoc County Sheriff’s Department and the District Attorney to convict Steve Avery (and Brendan Dassey) by any means necessary. The evidence presented indicates the likely innocence of Avery boys, but the case for the prosecution is never filled out.
Yet – as I said – we know that the prosecution of Steve Avery and Brendan Dassey was successful. We know that various higher courts have upheld those verdicts. It is, then, obvious that there is something compelling about the prosecution’s case that we have not been told. This is not to say Making a Murderer is fraudulent, or that there was no great injustice. Rather, it’s the recognition that we only get to see a part of the story, and recognising that fact makes the case more interesting. Why was the jury persuaded of the State’s seemingly flawed case? Why have the various appellate courts upheld those verdicts, given the issues illustrated by the defence? Is it really just a system covering up for itself, or is there something about the prosecution’s case that we have not been told?
Strangely enough, I’m not so much interested in ‘Making a Murderer’ for its central conspiracy theory ((Fine. I will say one thing; I find it astounding that the prosecution essentially gets away with describing two seemingly incompatible theories of how Teresa Halbach was killed. The theory as to her fate in the Steve Avery prosecution differs remarkably from that in the prosecution of Brendan Dassey. The fact it is the same prosecutor in both cases compounds this issue; the State effectively has secured two convictions for the same murder, one of which – if true – suggests the other could not have happened the way the prosecution has argued elsewhere.)) as I am for how ably it makes you root for Steve and Brendan’s defence counsels. This is despite the fact that we know both of the accused end up being convicted of crimes it seems they did and could not have committed. Knowing that outcome, and yet seeing the two cases play out over some eight or so hours, pushes buttons. Making a Murderer is, then, audience manipulation at its finest.
Podcast – Vlad hates Litvinenko
In which Josh and Matthew get on the wrong side of Russia’s own real life Bond villain…
A TPPA conspiracy we can all get behind
The Trans-Pacific Partnership Agreement (TPPA) was just signed in Auckland today, despite well-organised protests, and reasonable disagreements (excepting, naturally, the hyperbole of one Matthew Hooton, who – to ape his style of discourse – is an ‘insane and embittered right-wing PR hack’) between various bodies in Aotearoa. The fact that it has been signed doesn’t in itself change our world; now the treaty has to be ratified via legislation, and it is quite possible that even at this late stage everything could collapse because – despite the assurances of US negotiators – the Congress of the United States of America may decide to either change the terms of the deal, or just not ratify it on their end.
Will that happen? Well, indications are that Congress wants ‘clarification’ on some key points (read: they want to change some of the details and requirements their negotiators committed them to), and given that President Obama has signalled that the TPPA’s signing is something he is keen on, its even possible that Republican-controlled Congress might decide not to ratify the treaty through legislation just out of sheer spite. ((The power of spite in US politics is strong at the moment; I suspect it will be granted the status of a person any day now, and will promptly sue all and sundry.)) Some have speculated that as the US never really have played fair when it comes to trade agreements – the Land of the Free likes other nations to drop tariffs; it just doesn’t think that should be a two-way street – expecting the US to sign away even the most minor concessions is laughable.
The chief complaint about the TPPA has been the secrecy under which it was negotiated, after all. Only the negotiators knew what their respective governments were willing to trade away or compromise on for potential benefits. This was not a trade deal in which the public were asked ‘What do you think?’ Rather, it was handed to them, under the idea ‘This is the best we could do!’ Most of the conspiracy theories surrounding the TPPA either have it governments like ours (Aotearoa) were always seeking to serve US interests, or the negotiators were so captured by the idea of needing to not lose face and admit the deal is bad that they have lied about the pros out weighing the cons. I’m not going to speak directly to either of those possibilities here.
No; indulge me, if you will, in a bit of ideation about another potential conspiracy. We all know (or, at least, we pretend to know) that if the TPPA was ever worth undertaking, the day the US was invited to the table was the day it got bent out of shape. The US is an economic juggernaut, whilst the original parties to the TPPA (Aotearoa, Brunei, Singapore, and Chile) were small trading partners with a few shared economic interests. The US’ demands required significant concessions of these small parties just to get them in the room. What if, then, the US never intended to give anything up at all? What if joining in the negotiations – and requiring the other players do things they didn’t want to, like extending copyright terms and the like – was merely a useful way to encourage foreign nations to adopt US-style laws without having to advocate for them through open processes?
Think of it this way: ((This is a stylistic quirk I’m considering ridding myself of, given that I feel I use it a lot in my writing.)) Given that the TPPA covers 12 countries, one country – even a big one like the US – pulling out wouldn’t necessitate the agreement collapsing. The other countries could still ratify in the hope the US would eventually join, or because they think the benefits of the treaty can still be realised without engagement from the US. Or – and I’m fond of this bit of folk psychology – the negotiators and their respective governments, because they have spent so much time and effort convincing people – including themselves – that the TPPA is good, end up ratifying just to prove their detractors wrong.
Let’s assume the US proponents of ‘American laws overseas’ know this. They want US-style laws around copyright and the like, but have found that foreign governments have been loathe to adopt them, for a variety of reasons, including fear of public opprobrium. Having failed to win the war of ideas in the democratic space, US legal patriots decide that the best way to foster US-style laws overseas is by getting governments to agree to them for some greater good… Such as improved trade access to the US market. Rather than deal with hesitant governments, they decide to push for US-style laws and regulations with the negotiators of trade deals, knowing that if they can make the turn towards Americana a straight trade-off, governments will come around to their way of thinking.
So, the US – in this story – could have entered negotiations and pushed other nations to adopt US-centric proposals, knowing that they wouldn’t have to ratify the agreement. After all, once the treaty is signed, the other nations are likely to ratify even without the US. Not doing so would be tantamount to admitting that all that effort not only had been squandered, but that the US-style changes in law aren’t actually good in-and-of-themselves. As such, ((Another stylistic quirk.)) the US gets its way without having to commit to anything.
Is this conspiracy plausible? Maybe not; the theory requires that Congress would falsely oppose the TPPA, or that President Obama would exercise his powers to fast-track the TPPA knowing that it would not pass. However, I do think that, given so many of us have shaken our heads about the whole TPPA process, its plausible enough to think ‘That’s how it could have gone down.’ No one (read: not many) outside the government seems to think the TPPA brings much to the tale, but many of the nay-sayers say we still have to sup there, because missing out would be disastrous. That is to say ((A third quirk.)) – in the words of Douglas Adams – it’s a by-pass; you’ve got to build by-passes. The worry is that the US doesn’t have to do much of anything to get us to copy them; they just have to look like they might give us some concessions.