Careful With That Label Gun
There is a ridiculous song that goes "You say tomato, I say tomato . . . let's call the whole thing off." The conflict to be called off is difficult to convey in print without spelling things phonetically, which I'm not into. Add a comment if you haven't heard it and I will explain it in further detail; I simply don't have enough time right now.
Many human debates over standards are best called off. I think it is a human urge to define and categorize. We also gravitate towards codes of conduct, belief systems, and emergency protocols. I think we depend on definitions and broad categories to communicate efficiently. I think the rules we follow are in part a natural consequence of our thirst for justice, that worthiest of thirsts.
But in many cases we develop standards to our own detriment.
Standards tend to over-simplify complicated issues. The International Astronomical Union met yesterday to debate the classification of Pluto. There are several differences between Pluto and all the nearer eight planets. Pluto's plane of orbit makes a 17.1° angle with Earth's (no other planet's is more than about 7°), and Pluto is actually closer to the Sun than Neptune for a small part of its orbit (the other planets remain in consistent Sun-distance ranks). Pluto's surface is icy (all others' are rocky or gaseous). Pluto was discovered in 1930, 84 years after Neptune; many assert that American astronomers wanted to have discovered a planet, and that Pluto's distinction as such was an unwarranted prestige-grab. Many astronomers also assert that Pluto is one of many icy objects within the Kuiper Belt, and to include it as a planet requires the inclusion of tens of more such objects. There is also some ambiguity about Pluto's moon, Charon. The center of mass of Pluto and Charon is actually between the two, not inside Pluto, opening up some debate as to who's the planet and who's the moon, if each is either.
There are many reasons to keep Pluto a planet. It orbits the Sun, it is round by its own gravity (an easy, non-arbitrary way to distinguish it from an asteroid), and it is an indispensable member of any number of similar acronyms involving My Very Excellent Mother and her various activities.
But why all the hubbub surrounding the definition of planet, and whether Pluto fits it? Can't all the great minds in astronomy today do something more worthwhile? (Dr. Geoffrey W. Marcy of the University of California-Berkeley reportedly (by The New York Times) agrees.)
What is the benefit of having a logical, consistent, and hopefully non-arbitrary definition of planet, including Pluto or not? That way we would have a familiar, easy word, the use of which would concisely refer to some objects in space. When scientists hypothesize about the existence of planets around other stars, they could know for sure a set of conditions for a hypothetical object they are all talking about by using that simple word.
What are the drawbacks? We now have a word, the use of which demands the knowledge of its definition (but will not always be accompanied by it, resulting in confusion, inaccuracy, and myth), which, if correctly understood, will still require further clarification. Rocky? Gaseous? Mooned? Ringed? Inhabited? Discovered? Retrogradational? The word, whether its definition is modified to include Pluto or not, cannot encapsulate the complexity of the objects it represents, so its use conveys little information and will inevitably draw controversy when applied meaningfully.
I think the cons outweigh the pros, especially considering the near-certainty of the IAU having to change the number of planets in the solar system if the definition is rigorized.
But I don't think the term planet needs to be abandoned. We have a vague notion of what it means, and I think that is enough. The aspiring astronomer, who will talk meaningfully about heavenly bodies, must learn many more terms and concepts anyway - one word that refers to both Mars and Jupiter is going to require a whole slew of adjectives to be scientifically interesting. So I propose that we use planet to introduce a conversation about the heavens, which may include any number of truths and falsehoods, and relax about old Pluto.
Standards don't just over-simplify; they also limit real-world options. Illegal immigration from Mexico was a hot-button issue in US politics earlier this year. In December 2005 House conservatives passed House Resolution 4437, which called for various anti-immigration tools such as cameras and walls to be put into use along the USA-Mexico border. It also would have made illegal residency a felony. A more moderate anti-immigration bill passed in the US Senate the following spring.
Illegal immigration is not a party-line issue in the US. Some conservative people oppose it because of cultural, security, and job-stealing issues; some support it for cheap and willing labor's economic benefits. Liberal Americans who oppose it usually do so over jobs, over security, or out of fear of human rights abuses by US employers. Those who support it either agree with more conservative Americans that it helps our economy or sympathize with the foreign poor (or both). But a common thread is that people tend to want to standardize the rules over immigration, whether they want the rules to be stricter or more lenient.
As I said above, I think the primary impetus behind standardization is justice. Americans, nobly, want to live by impartial, fair laws. We want, in theory, everyone to be treated the same. Anyone who tries to enter our country illegally, we think, should face the same risks and rewards. I believe that is why many people are frustrated with America's recent immigration policies. Twenty years ago the Reagan administration granted widespread amnesty to undocumented residents while strengthening anti-immigrant regulations of businesses. In 1980 amnesty was awarded to Vietnam refugees; in 1997, to Nicaraguans and Cubans. American immigration policy is not unfairly categorized as anti-policy: we put up a half-hearted (yet ever-strengthening) effort to keep out most would-be immigrants, then every several years we give everybody who has managed to evade the law for a while a free ticket. It drives us nuts, but every effort to standardize the procedure is reviled by such a portion of American voters as to make it politically unfeasable.
I believe illegal immigration is another issue where we excessively standardize at our own peril. By keeping our laws fairly strict but enforcing them modestly, our government retains a flexibility for adjusting the flow of immigrants and a selectivity in the ones it rejects (i.e., the government can pick and choose where to crack down on immigration and which offenders to prosecute). Immigrants benefit by being given a chance to prosper here, a chance which is improved by good behavior - in this way, American citizens benefit by the influx of more law-fearing immigrants. I won't debate the economic pros and cons of immigration here, except to say that the government's enforcement flexibility also gives it yet another economic lever to pull or push, depending on whether the pundits agree we have too much or too little immigration.
Another way in which the powers that be limit choices is the judicial principle of stare decisis, or the precendent system of deciding cases. This came up quite a bit when the Senate was trying to figure out how rabid a pro-lifer Samuel Alito would prove to be. I'm not about to try to argue Constitutional law; I will say that I think previous cases should be used as precedents with great caution. It is a very complicated world, and each case has its own ins and outs.
Finally, foolish people tend to try to standardize concepts that are archaic, that are part of the luggage of human history, which we carry along with us through the generations not out of logical choice but for comfort and sentimentality. The recent attempts by some politicians to define marriage as a pact that may only exist between one man and one woman (and possibly God) would have seemed ridiculously redundant a few centuries, or even decades, ago. But humanity, praise be to the very same God just mentioned, is growing up, and in need of some bigger marriage-pants. In a perfect world I would advocate dropping the entire issue and letting the concept of marriage grow organically with those free individuals who wish to dabble in it. Since that appears to be politically (and possibly conceptually) impossible, I suggest we leave marriage entirely to the church, where they don't give a damn what I think, and that we make fair legislation over civil unions, which can be made regardless of gender. By removing all legal meaning to marriage and enacting equitable and just civil union rules, I believe the government will have done its job and left the church to do its. All at the expense of having one more little category for everybody to study. Thus a lovable old concept is salvaged for those who are into it, and the rest of the world moves on, to debate something worthwhile.
Which takes me back to planets. The word derives from the ancient Greek word for to wander; it was given to the "stars" which actually move about in the skies (with respect to the majority of stars, which remain fixed). If we just have to have a cold, hard definition for planet, why not go back to its original? A wandering speck in the skies. A definition that's not very scientific, but easy to remember, and with any luck, one that will inspire a little stargazing. That would be so much more productive than debating gay marriage.
I got some facts from The New York Times, Space.com, http://mips.as.arizona.edu/~stansber/Planet.html, http://www.govtrack.us/, and http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/ for this entry.
Many human debates over standards are best called off. I think it is a human urge to define and categorize. We also gravitate towards codes of conduct, belief systems, and emergency protocols. I think we depend on definitions and broad categories to communicate efficiently. I think the rules we follow are in part a natural consequence of our thirst for justice, that worthiest of thirsts.
But in many cases we develop standards to our own detriment.
Standards tend to over-simplify complicated issues. The International Astronomical Union met yesterday to debate the classification of Pluto. There are several differences between Pluto and all the nearer eight planets. Pluto's plane of orbit makes a 17.1° angle with Earth's (no other planet's is more than about 7°), and Pluto is actually closer to the Sun than Neptune for a small part of its orbit (the other planets remain in consistent Sun-distance ranks). Pluto's surface is icy (all others' are rocky or gaseous). Pluto was discovered in 1930, 84 years after Neptune; many assert that American astronomers wanted to have discovered a planet, and that Pluto's distinction as such was an unwarranted prestige-grab. Many astronomers also assert that Pluto is one of many icy objects within the Kuiper Belt, and to include it as a planet requires the inclusion of tens of more such objects. There is also some ambiguity about Pluto's moon, Charon. The center of mass of Pluto and Charon is actually between the two, not inside Pluto, opening up some debate as to who's the planet and who's the moon, if each is either.
There are many reasons to keep Pluto a planet. It orbits the Sun, it is round by its own gravity (an easy, non-arbitrary way to distinguish it from an asteroid), and it is an indispensable member of any number of similar acronyms involving My Very Excellent Mother and her various activities.
But why all the hubbub surrounding the definition of planet, and whether Pluto fits it? Can't all the great minds in astronomy today do something more worthwhile? (Dr. Geoffrey W. Marcy of the University of California-Berkeley reportedly (by The New York Times) agrees.)
What is the benefit of having a logical, consistent, and hopefully non-arbitrary definition of planet, including Pluto or not? That way we would have a familiar, easy word, the use of which would concisely refer to some objects in space. When scientists hypothesize about the existence of planets around other stars, they could know for sure a set of conditions for a hypothetical object they are all talking about by using that simple word.
What are the drawbacks? We now have a word, the use of which demands the knowledge of its definition (but will not always be accompanied by it, resulting in confusion, inaccuracy, and myth), which, if correctly understood, will still require further clarification. Rocky? Gaseous? Mooned? Ringed? Inhabited? Discovered? Retrogradational? The word, whether its definition is modified to include Pluto or not, cannot encapsulate the complexity of the objects it represents, so its use conveys little information and will inevitably draw controversy when applied meaningfully.
I think the cons outweigh the pros, especially considering the near-certainty of the IAU having to change the number of planets in the solar system if the definition is rigorized.
But I don't think the term planet needs to be abandoned. We have a vague notion of what it means, and I think that is enough. The aspiring astronomer, who will talk meaningfully about heavenly bodies, must learn many more terms and concepts anyway - one word that refers to both Mars and Jupiter is going to require a whole slew of adjectives to be scientifically interesting. So I propose that we use planet to introduce a conversation about the heavens, which may include any number of truths and falsehoods, and relax about old Pluto.
Standards don't just over-simplify; they also limit real-world options. Illegal immigration from Mexico was a hot-button issue in US politics earlier this year. In December 2005 House conservatives passed House Resolution 4437, which called for various anti-immigration tools such as cameras and walls to be put into use along the USA-Mexico border. It also would have made illegal residency a felony. A more moderate anti-immigration bill passed in the US Senate the following spring.
Illegal immigration is not a party-line issue in the US. Some conservative people oppose it because of cultural, security, and job-stealing issues; some support it for cheap and willing labor's economic benefits. Liberal Americans who oppose it usually do so over jobs, over security, or out of fear of human rights abuses by US employers. Those who support it either agree with more conservative Americans that it helps our economy or sympathize with the foreign poor (or both). But a common thread is that people tend to want to standardize the rules over immigration, whether they want the rules to be stricter or more lenient.
As I said above, I think the primary impetus behind standardization is justice. Americans, nobly, want to live by impartial, fair laws. We want, in theory, everyone to be treated the same. Anyone who tries to enter our country illegally, we think, should face the same risks and rewards. I believe that is why many people are frustrated with America's recent immigration policies. Twenty years ago the Reagan administration granted widespread amnesty to undocumented residents while strengthening anti-immigrant regulations of businesses. In 1980 amnesty was awarded to Vietnam refugees; in 1997, to Nicaraguans and Cubans. American immigration policy is not unfairly categorized as anti-policy: we put up a half-hearted (yet ever-strengthening) effort to keep out most would-be immigrants, then every several years we give everybody who has managed to evade the law for a while a free ticket. It drives us nuts, but every effort to standardize the procedure is reviled by such a portion of American voters as to make it politically unfeasable.
I believe illegal immigration is another issue where we excessively standardize at our own peril. By keeping our laws fairly strict but enforcing them modestly, our government retains a flexibility for adjusting the flow of immigrants and a selectivity in the ones it rejects (i.e., the government can pick and choose where to crack down on immigration and which offenders to prosecute). Immigrants benefit by being given a chance to prosper here, a chance which is improved by good behavior - in this way, American citizens benefit by the influx of more law-fearing immigrants. I won't debate the economic pros and cons of immigration here, except to say that the government's enforcement flexibility also gives it yet another economic lever to pull or push, depending on whether the pundits agree we have too much or too little immigration.
Another way in which the powers that be limit choices is the judicial principle of stare decisis, or the precendent system of deciding cases. This came up quite a bit when the Senate was trying to figure out how rabid a pro-lifer Samuel Alito would prove to be. I'm not about to try to argue Constitutional law; I will say that I think previous cases should be used as precedents with great caution. It is a very complicated world, and each case has its own ins and outs.
Finally, foolish people tend to try to standardize concepts that are archaic, that are part of the luggage of human history, which we carry along with us through the generations not out of logical choice but for comfort and sentimentality. The recent attempts by some politicians to define marriage as a pact that may only exist between one man and one woman (and possibly God) would have seemed ridiculously redundant a few centuries, or even decades, ago. But humanity, praise be to the very same God just mentioned, is growing up, and in need of some bigger marriage-pants. In a perfect world I would advocate dropping the entire issue and letting the concept of marriage grow organically with those free individuals who wish to dabble in it. Since that appears to be politically (and possibly conceptually) impossible, I suggest we leave marriage entirely to the church, where they don't give a damn what I think, and that we make fair legislation over civil unions, which can be made regardless of gender. By removing all legal meaning to marriage and enacting equitable and just civil union rules, I believe the government will have done its job and left the church to do its. All at the expense of having one more little category for everybody to study. Thus a lovable old concept is salvaged for those who are into it, and the rest of the world moves on, to debate something worthwhile.
Which takes me back to planets. The word derives from the ancient Greek word for to wander; it was given to the "stars" which actually move about in the skies (with respect to the majority of stars, which remain fixed). If we just have to have a cold, hard definition for planet, why not go back to its original? A wandering speck in the skies. A definition that's not very scientific, but easy to remember, and with any luck, one that will inspire a little stargazing. That would be so much more productive than debating gay marriage.
I got some facts from The New York Times, Space.com, http://mips.as.arizona.edu/~stansber/Planet.html, http://www.govtrack.us/, and http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/ for this entry.
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11:38 AM
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