Man-vs-Machine (2)

From an upcoming film on Uncontacted Tribes in the Amazon:

Also brings to mind a recent best-seller, "The Lost City of Z" by David Grann, about one of the last "romantic" explorers in the early part of the last century: Percy Fawcett. Fawcett, having explored much of the Amazon, left in 1925 on a search for El Dorado -- the Lost City of Gold. He, his son, and a friend disappeared into the Amazon jungle, and were never heard from again.

The book chronicles a latter-day effort to retrace Fawcett's footsteps, which brings the author all-too-close to repeating Fawcett's experiences. The result is a compelling read.

Boss

On the day that Boston goes to the polls to determine whether Tom Menino should be given a fifth term, it is fitting to remember Mike Royko's classic portrait of Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley, "Boss."

Royko is a throwback to an earlier era of journalism: more urban (rather than urbane), a true child of the city, and one who is both attracted and repulsed by the exercise of power.

He also paints the portrait of a Chicago rife with racial tensions: "[c]ontaining the Negro was unspoken city policy. Even expressways were planned as natural man-made barriers, the unofficial borders. The Dan Ryan, for instance, was shifted several blocks during the planning stage to make one of the ghetto walls."(p. 137)

(This Chicago is different from, but the inheritor of, the one that met Barack Obama twenty years later, as portrayed in his book, Dreams from My Father. But Old Man Daley's Chicago is the one that First Lady Michelle Robinson Obama was born into, and grew up in.)

Other vestiges of the old Chicago live on. Son Richard Michael, the current mayor (since 1989; he will break his father's record for longevity if he serves out the current term), has a cameo in "Boss", but his influence on current politics is felt. Current Secretary of Education Arne Duncan is a former CEO of the Chicago Public Schools; the younger Daley created the job of CEO after convincing the Illinois State Legislature to place the school system under his control. (Interestingly, the independence of the school board is played to political advantage in Royko's view, by the elder Daley.)

In "Dreams", Obama paints Chicago as his "native" land; the place where he learned who he was. But there is a history of that land, and Royko's portrayal of the elder Daley provides some insight as to the Chicago that met the young Obama.

Wired for War

"Wired for War", by P.W. Singer, is a far broader book that the title indicates (although the subtitle -- The Robotics Revolution and Conflict in the 21st Century does give some indication.) Rather than limit his inquiry into the the current state of the robotics world, Singer covers the entire gamut of how wars will be fought in the next century.

But he does spend some (first) exploring the current state of the world. He identifies two current robots: PackBot, built by iRobot; and Talon and its "pissed-off big brother" SWORDS (Special Weapons Observation Reconnaissance Detection System) built by Foster-Miller.

Singer considers himself a child of pop culture, and references to film, books, and even video games are littered throughout the text. Some of the references are direct, as when he wonders whether Star War's C-3PO will be the future shape of robots; others are more obscure. But Singer is at his best when he can merge the influence of science fiction -- from Asimov to the original Star Trek; from James Cameron (director of Terminator) to J.K. Rowling (the 'invisability cloak' described in Harry Potter is inspiring scientists today -- to show how culture influences scientists and their expectations of and for robotics.

Singer also wonders and writes about the role that robots will play in the warrior culture. Separation of the warrior from his opponent has long been a theme of technologic advance (after all, even Japanese samurai eventually acknowledged that their swords were no match for a peasant with a gun). But Singer notes that the very fact of "going to war" -- heading off to a distant place where the laws of normal society are suspended -- no longer applies when a Predator drone can be flown over Afghanistan by an operator who can finish his mission and be home in time for dinner.

The book also raises the topic related to robotics: artificial intelligence. As systems become more and more sophisticated, human oversight becomes an temporal impediment to resolving a conflict successfully. In other words, if machines are waiting for human approval of a pre-emptive attack, the opportunity will be lost, and the machine (and perhaps one or more humans) will suffer as the result. But the alternative: humans ceding control to machines without "human fail-safe" is a topic that, as Singer records, is not one very many scientists working in the field wish to discuss.

Singer does a admirable job of identifying issues that the new technology will raise. While he doesn't try to predict outcomes, he also points to a future that will continue to challenge us. The book is well-worth reading for those who are looking to quickly grasp a state of the robotics/AI world, as it applies to war-making. And in a post-9/11 environment, defense budgets and political resistance to casualties means that more, not less, resources will be available for placing machines "in harm's way."

Hunting for Craic

For another look at the underbelly of the Celtic Tiger, you could do worse then pick up a copy of Bill Barich's new book, "A Pint of Plain."

Barich, who is an accomplished travel writer and a well-read lover of literature, moves to Dublin and proceeds to circle the country over the space of about a year, searching for the perfect, authentic Irish public house (or pub.) Long enamored of the 'traditional' Irish of memory, Barich quickly discovers that much -- of not all -- of what we Americans consider to be 'Irish' is really "fairytale Ireland."

The John Ford/John Wayne film, "The Quiet Man" animates Barich's search, and perhaps most disappointingly when he travels to Cong, County Galway, and discovers that the 'real' QM pub is actually "a whitewashed, thatched replica of Sean Thornton's White O'Mornin'", where he is treated -- for five quid -- to views of "authentic reproductions" of the costumes from the movie, and other props. All in all, a rather inauthentic experience.

But Barich also discovers that the "authentic" Irish pub experience is itself become commoditized, thanks to Guinness (now a Diageo brand) and the Irish Pub Company, which itself has built over 400 "authentic" pubs world-wide, including conversions from other types of bars to an Irish pub (Interesting fact: "if a British pub switches to an Irish theme, say, and refits its interior with tin signs, etched Jameson mirrors, and so on, its profits frequently triple."(p.48)

Thus the book is really a study of modernization and globalization upon a traditional culture that is perhaps the world's most romanticized. In the end, there are only a handful of 'true' Irish pubs that survive to the present day, and most of those are run by senior publicans who seem unlikely to pass the bar to a child; notwithstanding the inevitable ("& Sons") in the name of a IPC-designed pub.

The end of the Irish pub is the end of a way of life. The farmers and related trades that supported the pub are going away, outnumbered by the information workers of the Celtic Tiger that Barich saw throughout the Isle. Even as the country reels from the Great Unwind, those traditional jobs will not likely return.

But one can still yearn for a pint -- and a bit of craic -- after a long day on the links in a pub such as Tubridy's.

Which of course, in a global economy, has its own website.

Which is, one supposes, Barich's point.

Ripped From the Headlines?

It's become a classic TV crime drama teaser: "The new CSI(*): Ripped from the Headlines"

But with today's news that the "Electricity Grid in U.S. Penetrated By Spies" in the WSJ, it's now the headlines that appear to be 'ripped' from drama.

The drama in question is a (sort of) new book, called "Daemon" by Daniel Suarez. It's self-billed as a techo-thriller, and it lives up to the hype.

The book is clearly from the Clancy- / Grisham-type genre, so anything beyond a high-level description will be giving away too much of the plot. However, the main idea of the book: a distributed 'daemon' (or a computer program -- or series of programs -- that run in the 'background' where they are oblivious to the user) that has malicious intent. And because this daemon was programmed by a genius computer-game developer, the Artificial Intelligence (AI) component makes it particularly dangerous.

The author comes from an IT background, and it shows with the technological accuracy of the book. The thin lines and close connection between hackers, game-players, and IT security personnel all play a role; the result is a world of 'reality' that exists -- but is oblivious to those over the age of 40 whose memories of computer games were formed by "Pong" and "Space Invaders." (It is informative that computer games now out-earn Hollywood, although like Hollywood, games are driven by blockbusters that support the equivalent of "straight to video" bombs.)

One of Suarez' themes is the degree to which law enforcement -- from local police to the FBI to even the NSA -- is outmanned, outwitted, and outgunned by rampant distribution of technology. It does take much imagination to think of the possible ramifications for national security, and economic security.

There are some problems with the book: the body count is exceedingly high, and Mr. Suarez' descriptions of bloody endings reads (at times) like the script for "Friday the 13th Part XIX." But the stuff he knows -- the IT and its vulnerabilities -- are far more chilling than the worst sort of horror movie.

The reliance on technology in the modern world -- the vulnerabilities of that reliance to attack -- makes this a must-read for anyone interested in the future of technology. Security is only as strong as its weakest link, and as the WSJ story today shows, malicious agents are always searching for vulnerabilities.

Finally, the book itself has an interesting back story. Suarez had to essentially self-publish it in 2006 under an alias ("Leinad Zeraus"!) It apparently kicked around Silicon Valley and caught the eye of a number of high-profile individuals, including Rick Klau of Feedburner, which was shortly thereafter acquired by Google. As a result, as highlighted by a Wired Magazine article last year, the print-on-demand manuscript became an underground success.

And Penguin/Dutton eventually caught on. The book was re-released this January.

(*) - or "Cold Case" or "Law & Order" or "CSI: Miami" or...

1907

With the defeat of the 'Bailout Bill' in Congress yesterday, one can't help but think of the Panic of 1907, which occurred almost 100 years ago.

In 1907, horse-drawn carriages and 'special' trains were state-of-the-art. But while financial markets change, the core elements of a panic remain the same: financial innovation runs ahead of regulation; a short-squeeze; interlocking and connected financial institutions, resulting in a domino-effect of falling institutions; the spread of the contagion; and then, most dangerously, a run on previously-healthy banks.

The 1907 Panic was stemmed on the evening of November 2-3, when JP Morgan famously locked a number of presidents of trust companies (which were the financial innovations of the day, as derivatives and credit-default swaps are today) in his library; they were not 'released' until they all agreed to subscribe to a $25M loan for the Trust Company of America, an otherwise healthy institution that was facing a run. And like in 1907, it is collective action -- individuals acting against their own personal short-term interests for the good of all -- that can stem a panic.

The House vote yesterday was a political version of the 'Prisoner's Dilemma.' The bill would help everyone, but it was in many member's interest to have been able to vote against an unpopular bill. But once it became clear that the House Republicans were not near the 100 votes that Speaker Pelosi wanted, Democrats were not going to pass a bill with little or no GOP support.

The good news, if any, is that the lessons of 1907 still hold; the meeting in Morgan's library was not the first time that "Pierpont" had tried to stem the tide. More than a week earlier, on October 23rd, 1907, Morgan had summoned the trust presidents to his office and urged them to help TCA; but at that time, they were still more concerned about their own cash position, and Morgan had trouble raising $10M. (A week later, it required considerably more money -- $25M -- to stop the run on TCA.)

And as the contagion spread throughout the stock market, Morgan had to inveigh upon then-President Teddy Roosevelt to allow the takeover of Tennessee Coal, Iron & Railroad by US Steel. Roosevelt was known as a 'trust buster', so politically he was contradicting his well-established position. But TR did what was needed to be done, and so avoided (in his words later) "a panic and general industrial smashup at this time."

Electing FDR

With shadows from 1929 appearing -- seemingly -- on the business (and front) pages every day, it is perhaps instructive to look back at the true "Great Depression", and the election held in 1932. (It is worth noting that there appears to be an increase in interest in the FDR era in pop culture at this time as well, from AMC's "Mad Men" and the "Hobo Code" to John McCain's memories of Pearl Harbor in his RNC Nomination Speech.)

Donald Ritchie's "Electing FDR: The New Deal Campaign of 1932" begins with the rise of Herbert Hoover, self-made man, shortly after the turn of the century. By the end of the First World War, Hoover (then just 43 years old) was entrusted with the Food Administration, and had become a national figure. By 1920, some Washington wags were discussing a potential Hoover-FDR ticket on the Democratic side; Hoover demurred, and eventually declared himself a Republican. (It was interesting to learn that Hoover and Roosevelt were social acquaintances.)

By 1927, Hoover helped organize relief for the Mississippi River flood (the previous 'big one' that was referenced during Hurricane Katrina), and became the GOP nominee in 1928. Facing Al Smith, the New York Governor and first Catholic to head a party ticket, Hoover won with the promise of a "chicken in every pot, a car in every garage."

Four years later, promises of the "Hoover economy" had collapsed into the bitterness of "Hoovervilles" and "Hoover blankets" (newspapers). But he was relieved when FDR won the Democratic nomination in Chicago (holding off a challenge from his former mentor, Al Smith); Hoover felt that FDR would not be a tough opponent.

FDR for his part did not underestimate the incumbent, although Hoover did not campaign vigorously (employing the Rose Garden strategy) until very near the end. Moreover events moved against Hoover: a "Bonus March" of WWI veterans was broken up -- albeit over Hoover's orders for non-violence -- by calvary commanded by Douglas MacArthur (with assistance from Dwight D. Eisenhower). Public opinion -- which incredibly seemed split evenly between FDR and Hoover, although polling was in its infancy -- began to move against the sitting President.

In the end, the country was ready to turn to a fresh leader (although one with a familiar name). FDR tallied 22.8M votes against just 15.7M for Hoover.

The transition, which lasted through March, when FDR was sworn in, was marked by a near assassination (in Miami, when Chicago Mayor Anton Cermak was struck and eventually died; the assassin was convicted and executed within 33 days after the shooting); and increasing tension between former associates Hoover and FDR.

Although the Depression would linger for much of the rest of the 1930s, the country was clearly headed in a new direction. Hoover's reluctant campaigning and bad luck (as evidenced by the Bonus March), combined with the crushing economic climate, made the result a foregone conclusion (in retrospect).

But the backstory -- and the personal relationship between the two combatants -- made the re-telling an interesting one, especially given the current business headlines.

Boats Against the Tide

While it has been 20 years since Morgan Magic, it has been an unbelievable 30 years since the first public statement of "Bucky Bleeping Dent."

Although born in 1967 with the Impossible Dream, and baptized with the 1975 World Series, it was truly 1978 that forged "Red Sox Nation."

A season that began with so much promise (the Sox were ahead by 8.5 games on the second place Brewers and 14 on the Yankees on July 17th), ended with an injury-riddled disaster of the "Boston Massacre" in early September.

But despite allegations of "choking", the '78 Sox came off of the mat and closed with a 13-2 streak that allowed them to crawl into a first-place tie with the Yankees on the last game of the season, thanks to the final win in a storied (Sox) career by all-time gamer Luis Tiant.

Richard Bradley chronicles the season, and the Playoff Game between the two clubs (played in Fenway on October 2, 1978), in the "The Greatest Game."

Bradley does a great job of reaching many of the Game's protagonists, and putting them in the frame-of-mind that they were during that October afternoon. From the night before at latter-day Sox' Derek Lowe's favorite 'local watering hole' -- Daisy Buchanan's -- to the tension between Reggie Jackson and Billy Martin (replaced at mid-season by Bob Lemon.)

The pivotal figure -- as in ESPN's chronicle of the previous season, "The Bronx is Burning" -- is Thurman Munson (played by Erik Jensen in the TV series). Munson reminds one of the role apparent played by Jason Varitek on the current Sox team, with value well in excess of OPS+ or OBP.

Unfortunately, the text is from time-to-time littered with logical or editing inconsistencies, which take away from the overall narrative. For instance, in the chapter on the Second Inning of the Playoff Game (page 99), Bradley writes:

Yaz had pulled a home run off a pitcher who almost never gave up home runs -- just 12 in 269 innings up to that point, and only one of those home runs had been hit by a left-handed hitter. Players on both sides knew what that meant: Guidry's fastball wasn't up to par.

So far, so good. But then, it is followed by this non sequiter:

In right field, Lou Piniella, playing in place of the defensively challenged Reggie Jackson, took note. If Yaz had been able to homer off a Guidry fastball, the Red Sox might all be pulling the ball a little more than usual. He resolved that when left-handers came to the plate, he would play a few steps closer to the left field line than he normally would. (Emphasis added)

While such editing issues are not fatal, they pull away from the general impression of the work; but all-in-all, a good read, at least (for Sox fans) until the final pages.

In the Heart of the Sea

Nathaniel Philbrick's In the Heart of the Sea describes a world that seems accessible today -- Nantucket is a short ferry-ride from Cape Cod -- but in reality a symbol of a by-gone era. In the period before the discovery of oil (or more accurately, the discovery of the ability of oil to burn cleanly and efficiently for lighting purposes), whale oil was the best source of light. And Nantucket -- at least according to Philbrick -- was the cutting edge location for the pursuit and harvesting of whale oil throughout the world.

By 1819-21, when the story is centered, the whaling industry was mature in Nantucket; boats were built, outfitted, and sent out, and every person on board -- from captain to cabin boy -- was compensated in a share of the profits. A 'lucky' captain, or one who could bring his boat back with a full crew and a full hold of oil, was a popular man, and the entire island knew the difference between the 'good' and 'bad' captains.

The Essex, which by 1819 was a old ship, set sail for the South Pacific under a first-time captain, George Pollard; the voyage was relatively routine (although Pollard clearly makes some 'rookie' mistakes along the way) but reaches a stunning termination when, some 3,000 miles off the coast of Peru, the ship was sunk by a very large sperm whale.

The rest of the book is the story of two dozen men and their struggles in three open boats, far from shore. Rather than set sail to the (relatively) near-by Marquesas Islands, Pollard listened to his officers (and their fears of cannibalism on the Marquesas) and attempted to sail roughly east, against the prevailing winds, towards South America. In the end, cannibalism found the men of the Essex in the open ocean, as they ran out of food and water during their 90-day ordeal and resorted to that which they most feared.

The story of the Essex was apparently well-known in 19th century New England (if not America) and became the basis for the climatic scene of Meville's Moby-Dick. It has become a lost story, and not consistent with our current romantic notions of life on Nantucket; yet it is truly compelling.

One other note: The 19th-century whaling industry was recently back in the news with the discovery of a bomb-lance fragment, which dated back to approximately 1880, in the head of a bowhead whale. Whales are known to have normal life-spans in excess of 100 years, but the bowhead in question could easily have been 135 or more.

The Politics of Glory

Phil Rizzuto, who was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on February 27, 1994, by the Veterans' Committee, died today at the age of 89. Rizzuto was the oldest living HoFer, and his candidacy to the Hall was advanced (according to rumor) by Ted Williams, who declared that "the Red Sox would have won all those pennants if [Rizzuto] had played in front of me[i.e., left fielder Williams]"

By coincidence, over the past few days I have re-read Bill James' "The Politics of Glory: How Baseball's Hall of Fame Really Works" (which was apparently re-published in 1995 as "Whatever Happened to the Hall of Fame?: Baseball, Cooperstown, and the Politics of Glory"); both titles are a mouthful, but improve on James' 1989 work, "This Time Let's Not Eat the Bones."

James' work was clearly inspired by the controversy in the early 1990s about whether Rizzuto should, in fact, be a Hall-of-Famer. Rizzuto's candidacy was clearly aided by the election (also by the Veterans' Committee, of Bobby Doerr (James gives Ted Williams some credit towards getting his teammate Doerr into the HoF on page 142), and, more importantly, Pee Wee Reese. (To be fair, Rizzuto lost the better part of three years to WWII, which would have helped his career numbers be closer to the HoF 'median' for shortstops.)

James' book intersperses a history of the institution -- and its status apart from MLB -- with the voting constituencies, and more important, an analysis of the HoFers who clearly are at the margin -- Rizzuto (who was on the outs at the time James initially wrote; Don Drysdale; Bill Mazeroski (out at the time; subsequently elected); Ron Santo (still on the outside, looking in); Joe Torre (out then and now, although probably in now thanks to his managerial career; much closer to being in as a player than currently appreciated); George Davis (now in); Jim Kaat (out -- then and now); and Minnie Minoso (not considered a 'true' Negro Leaguer, but lost a significant amount of his career thanks to the color line).

Like all of James' writing, the book is witty and thought-provoking; however, in a re-reading some 14 years after publication, what is truly amazing is the changes in the how we view the game -- James still refers to 'Triple Crown' statistics even though they have been replaced (subsequently, and as a result, in part, of James' work) with stats such as OBP, OPS, and the like.

There will be more on the Hall of Fame here shortly, but the original is a good read, albeit dated (written before Michael Lewis' Moneyball, and shortly after Ken Burns' Baseball; the paperback undoubtedly resolves some of the typos and other editing errors that distract from a compelling narrative.

The Soul of Baseball

It is a rare book that gets a second read in today's day-and-age. After all, there are so many books, magazines, on-line articles, blogs, and other pieces that have not yet been read. Yet, Joe Posnanski's Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neil's America received that high praise - and right away. Shortly after finishing the book for the first time, I started over, and enjoyed it just as much.

What makes this book great is not the 'discovery' of Buck O'Neil - Ken Burns (and others) had already done so:


Posnanski has the fortune of traveling with O'Neil during the final year of his life. Despite his age (93), O'Neil continues to be a indefatigable speaker and supporter of the Negro League and its players. His travels take him to Houston, Minneapolis, and Nicodemus, KS. He remains upbeat and positive despite the bad breaks that baseball -- and its owners -- gave him. Despite never having the chance to play or manage in the Major Leagues, O'Neil's attitude is perhaps most reminiscent of Lou Gehrig.

But the book reaches a dramatic height in the last section, as Posnanski waits with O'Neil for the Baseball Hall of Fame's special committee -- chaired by former Commissioner Fay Vincent -- to select from a list of 39 former Negro Leaguers who were considered for admission. Sometimes a great piece of writing needs tragedy in the life of his subject.

In the end, O'Neil gives the speech on behalf of those who had died before admission. And he leads the audience in the same song he had sung in countless other venues: "The greatest thing in all my life is loving you."

As a sidenote: Posnanski has a website for the book (including a 'soundtrack' on iTunes), a blog (which includes a memory-invoking list of the sweetest swings that he has ever seen), and he writes regularly for the Kansas City Star. All are recommended.

The Trojan War: A New History

Barry Strauss' new (published last year, or approximately 3200 years after the events in question) account of the Trojan War is the best kind of history -- written by an author sufficiently versed in the applicable literature to be able to both comprehensive and brief.

Strauss turns a critical eye to the work of Homer (who actually wrote the Illiad and Odyssey in the 700s, or close to 500 years after the Trojan War), and the (lesser known) Epic Cycle (the Cypria (on the outbreak and first nine years of the war); the Aethiopis, about the Trojan allies; the Little Illiad, about the Trojan Horse; the Iliupersis, on the sack of Troy; the Nostoi, on the Greek heroes; and the Telegony, a continuation of the Odyssey) (all from pages xxi-xxii). The effect is a checking of Homer's sources, claims, and conclusions -- and a general conclusion that the story, while embellished, is probably at core, true.

But while the main story is not true, the two major facts -- the Trojan Horse gambit, and the length of the war (10 years) -- are probably not. The Horse is probably an allegory for some other deception the Greeks used; the ten year struggle is merely a Bronze Age euphemism for a 'long time.'

A Brief History of America's Pastime

George Vescey's recent history of America's pastime is entitled simply "Baseball: A History of America's Favorite Game," and the book is part of the Modern Library Chronicles Series.

Limited (or perhaps freed) by the Series' insistence on brevity (Vescey's book is just 224 pages without footnotes), Vescey does not attempt to delivery the comprehensive, year-by-year, history of the game; nor, does he, like Bill James' Historical Baseball Abstract (which traces the game from its roots), treat each decade of baseball history evenly. Rather, Vescey choses a few themes and allows the narrative to follow.

One theme is Vescey's own boyhood idol: Stan Musial. (Of course, why Vescey -- a child of Brooklyn -- idolized an outfield who played a half a continent away in an era before television -- is probably a story for another day, and a longer book.) And related to Musial is another St. Louisian: George Sisler. Sisler appears throughout the book: as the first major 'discovery' of the young Branch Rickey; as a scout of, and mentor to, Jackie Robinson; then a further mentor to Roberto Clemente (another Rickey discovery); and finally, he appears through his children and grandchildren, who are present when Ichiro (Vescey's symbol of the internationalization of MLB) broke Sisler's single season hit record, of 257 (set in 1920).

Vescey touches on other issues: the 'creation myth' that placed Abner Doubleday (a cadet at West Point at the time) in Cooperstown 1839 when baseball was alleged invented; the role the A.G. Spalding played in codifying, then expanding, the game through his Spalding company, still located in Springfield, Mass., and still producing 'official' balls; and the role of Rickey in 'professionalizing' the front-office function. While the story will be familiar to the long-time fan, Vescey's writing, together with some (undoutedly) new anecdotes, will mean a pleasurable read.

Finally, a note on the cover photo, which is a compelling view from the upper deck of Yankee Stadium on October 4, 1961, the first game of the World Series that year against the Reds. The photo is both a moment in action -- a ball has been hit down the right field line (probably Elston Howard's homerun in the fourth) -- and a moment in time, with ads for Ballantine Beer, the monuments (and flag pole) still in play in center field, and of course, a Series game in daylight -- all harkening back to an earlier era. But it is a moment we can still almost touch.

Cheney, Wilson, and the 1% Test

Andrew Sullivan writes about the Libby trial today, and VP Cheney being a key -- if so far, off stage -- player. Sullivan summarizes Cheney's involvement in the attack on Wilson as follows:

Cheney was far more focused on fighting a petty Beltway skirmish in the press over a petty issue in the recent past.

Why? There are only two plasuible explanations I can think of for the disproportionate concern. The first is pure arrogance... Any querying of his position was an affront a man of his arrogance couldn't tolerate - even if it meant risking a huge amount to squash a political bug the size of Wilson.

The alternative explanation is that Cheney was scared - so scared he took a huge risk...But why would he be scared? The most plausible inference is that he knew he had deliberately rigged the WMD evidence to ensure that the war took place...[There] was [a] danger that journalists or skeptics pulling on the thread that Wilson represented could get closer to the much bigger truth of WMD deception. This is a huge deal for one single reason: if true, it means that the White House acted in bad faith in making the case for war...

Sullivan's second insight is supported, in a way, by Ron Suskind's book, The One Percent Doctrine. In the book, Suskind lays out the "Cheney Doctrine":

"If there's a one percent chance [that terrorists are acting], we have to treat it as a certainty in terms of our response," Cheney said. He paused to assess his declaration. "It's not about analysis, or finding a preponderance of evidence," he added. "It's about our response."

Suskind, p. 62. The Cheney Doctrine, which Suskind claims drove much national security policy during the period after 9/11 until today, may have played a part in the decision to go to war in Iraq. Suskind writes:

[T]he key rule - that the United States woudl treat a 'one percent chance' of a country passing WMDs to a terrorist as a 'certainty' and be forced to act - was never spoken. Such a disclosure would have provoked a widening debate over Iraq.

p.166. A one percent chance means that something is 99% likely not to occur - which triggered the need to hide or otherwise manipulate evidence to 'prove' Iraqi WMD. Which brings us back to Sullivan's point.

Blind Sided (with Science)

The January 8, 2007 issue of The New Yorker contains a series of book comparisons by Adam Gopnik on recent books about football (including John Feinstein's "Next Man Up", Charles P. Pierce's "Moving the Chains", and Michael Lewis' "The Blind Side") with some earlier football books (including George Plimpton's "Paper Lion", Dan Jenkin's "Semi-Tough", and Roy Blount Jr.'s "About Three Bricks Shy of a Load.")

Gopnik does an credible job of comparing across eras (the earlier books describe a younger, more naive NFL that is, in Gopnik's view "funner.") He also compares the state of football literature to the state of baseball writing, with Bill James and the statistical analysis of hardball being taken as a given.

Gopnik starts his piece with a nice vignette of Joe Namath dodging controversy in the New York Jet press box at a recent game:

Someone asks Namath is he believes that [Jet QB] Chad Pennington is in a slump...Namath is suddenly intent. "No, he's a good quarterback," he says seriously. "I've only watched him this year as a fan, on television. I haven't had a chance to break down the passing game to see if Chad's going to the right spots or going to the wrong receiver." You sense that the distinction the old quarterback is making -- between watching as a fan and actually watching -- is, for him, larger than he can quite explain. It isn't just that he hasn't watched as attentively as he might have; watching "as a fan, on television," means that he hasn't really watched at all...

...[W]hat is really astonishing is to be reminded again of how different this game looks depending on where you see it from, on where you're standing (or sitting) while you watch it. When you watch a pro football game from the Crimean War general's viewpoint of the press box, you can see what's going to happen. On television, the quarterback peers out into the distance within the narrowed frame of the midfield camera and for a moment everything seems possible; the view can't know if there's a wide-open man fifty yards deep or if there is nothing ahead of Pennington but despair - four men crowding two receivers, who aren't even bothering to wave their arms...If you're watching live, Namath's point comes home; on television you see free will instead of a series of forced choices, mostly bad. The quarterback, the gallant general, peering out, in command, becomes, in reality, a stitch in the pattern already woven, his fate nearly sealed before he gets to fiddle with it.

But while Gopnik references Lewis' book, what's interesting is the parallels between Gopnik's analysis of Namath's view of play, and how Lewis analyzes the protection provided by the Left Tackle (playing on the blind side to the right-handed quarterback), in describing a playoff game between the San Francisco 49ers and the Minnesota Vikings in 1988. And what's even more interesting is that Gopnik didn't make (or perhaps acknowledge) the connection:

What happens on this first serious encounter between these two huge men happens so fast it's nearly impossible to comprehend with the naked eye in real time. [Viking Chris] Doleman sprints upfield, probably expecting to collide with [49er Steve] Wallace on his first or second step - but he doesn't. Wallace has taken a new angle. 'I had to make sure that his body was completely by me...wait...wait...Then I hit him.'

He'd met Doleman as deep in the backfield as he possibly could without missing him altogether. They collided, briefly, at the spot Doleman wanted to be making a sharp left to get at [49er Joe] Montana. The hit kept Doleman from turning, and drove him further upfield. Steve Wallace had trade the pleasure of violence for the comfort of real estate.

Nobody notices, of course. His contribution was the opposite of drama. He'd removed the antagonist from the play entirely. What the fans and the television cameras see if 49er wide receiver John Taylor come wide open in the middle of the field. Joe Montana hits with a pass, and Taylor races for a gain of twenty yards.

(Gopnik's piece is not available on line.)

Russia's War

For the last few weeks, news out of Europe has been dominated by the questions surrounding the death of Alexander V. Litvinenko, the former K.G.B. agent, who was apparently poisoned by exposure to polonium 210. Coincidentally, I stumbled upon Richard Overy's "Russia's War: A History of the Soviet War Effort: 1941-1945," and was reminded that intrigue has a long and tragic history in both the Soviet Union and Russia.

Overy's book has two main strengths: first, he is the beneficiary of the post-Cold War release of materials from the Soviet files; second, Overy has the confidence and the command of the subject to write briefly - the whole work is barely 300 pages. (I should also note that Overy's book was apparently a follow-on piece to a series of documentaries of the same title produced in 1994-95. I am trying to locate the series.)

Overy takes advantage of the new primary source materials to refute certain of the pieces of WWII conventional wisdom about Stalin and the Russian effort in the war. The infamous Ribbentrop/Molotov accord in 1939 is blamed not on Stalin's "treachery", but rather on the German desire to secure its flank to be able to fall upon France and the Low Countries to the West. ("[Stalin] could as easily made a pact with the imperialist West as he could with fascist Germany...Yet the German alliance was neither expected nor sought in 1939. Only when the German offer was on the table did it prove irresistible."(p.50))

Likewise, the collapse of the Soviet defense in the face of Operation Barbarossa in June 1941 is usually attributed to the hollowing out of the Soviet officer corps in the wake of the purges of the late 1930s. While Overy does not flinch in describing the torture or worse inflicted on many senior officials who rose to prominence under Stalin, he attributes the German success in the summer of 1941 to Stalin's own failure to acknowledge Hitler's willingness to attack his erstwhile ally, especially in light of the military difficulties that Stalin recognized the Germans would face. It was not that the Soviet military professionals did not predict the coming storm - it was that they were not willing to risk life and limb by contradicting own Stalin's view that the German/Soviet pact was built for the long-term.

Winston Churchill's reputation also suffers under Overy's pen. In a telling detail, Stalin in the 1943 conference in Teheran pushes both Churchill and FDR to commit to a specific timetable for the Overlord (Normandy) invasion that would relieve some of the pressure off the Soviet army. While Stalin pulls on his pipe and waits in silence for an answer, FDR is seen winking at Stalin, leaving Churchill outnumbered and, eventually, forced to commit to a Spring 1944 landing. More telling, Overy reports that it was Churchill in Moscow in 1944, and not FDR in Yalta or Truman in Potsdam in 1945, that agreed to the divvying up of Europe into spheres of influence. Although sourced to Churchill's own memoirs, Overy states that the British PM's list of influence (90% Soviet influence in Romania; 50% in Hungary and Yugoslavia; 75% in Bulgaria, etc.), "makes a mockery of [Churchill's] later credentials as a Cold Warrior, just as it compromised his relations with Roosevelt. It amounted to a virtual acceptance of more than Stalin could have hoped for in Eastern Europe." (p.251-52)

While Churchill is a bit player, and FDR even less so, the main focus of the book is on Stalin, his key generals, and the contradictory nature of his rule. Stalin is seen as a master manipulator (he would always sit to the side at meetings, and never preside (p.16)), and unafraid to use terror and betrayal. But as a Georgian, he was nonetheless ruthless in crushing nationalist uprisings throughout the Soviet empire. Likewise, a committed Communist, at the moment of crisis in 1942, he allowed to revival of the Russian Orthodox Church, and invoked the names of Russian (i.e., pre-Revolutionary) heroes as part of the war effort.

There have been several popular histories of the Eastern Front over the past few years, including two by Antony Beevor ("Stalingrad" and the "Fall of Berlin 1945.") Overy's book is every bit as readable, and offers a new perspective on Stalin's side of the war. A quick read, but well worth it.