The story of 21th century immigration in the US is a story of slamming doors shut, with one exception. For decades, the US has allowed any Cuban who could reach American land to stay there. Originally, the idea was simply to allow people travelling by boat to land ashore, then, during the Clinton administration, the Coast Guard would turn back boats, but if you somehow reach shore, or traveled through Mexico or Canada, you could stay.
Open Borders in action. Thousands upon thousands avoided the horrors of the Cuban state, with its jailing of gay people and harassment of dissidents, were given the option to live in a much more humane society. Now, Cubans will be returned, against their will. The “wet foot, dry foot” policy has come to an end. The justification? From Ilya Somin’s Washington Post column:
The main rationale for the policy change is that it is unfair to treat Cuban refugees differently from those fleeing other oppressive governments. As President Obama put it, we should treat them “the same way we treat migrants from other countries.” Ideally, we should welcome all who flee oppression, regardless of whether their oppressors are regimes of the left or the right, or radical Islamists.
But the right way to remedy this inequality is not to treat Cuban refugees worse, but to treat other refugees better. And if the latter is not politically feasible, we should at least refrain from exacerbating the evil by facilitating the oppression of Cubans. It is better to protect Cuban refugees from the risk of deportation than none at all.
If a police force disproportionately abuses blacks, it would be unjust to “fix” the inequality by inflicting similar abuse on whites or Asians. Inflicting abuse on other groups is both unjust in itself and unlikely to help blacks. Similarly, the injustice inflicted on refugees from other oppressive regimes cannot and should not by imposing similar injustices on Cubans.
If my house is on fire, you don’t throw me back in because it makes me equal with other people whose homes are on fire. You let me out and then help other people escape their fires. What a sad form of logic. Violence under the disguise of equality.
Normally, at the end of an administration, I say “good riddance” and hope for better policies. Unfortunately, I think this is just a prelude to much of the same.
Remember when everybody said that the polls completely got the 2016 presidential election wrong? Now we have final numbers on the popular vote count, and guess what? The national polls were on target:
- In the Real Clear Politics rolling average, the final estimate was HRC up by 3.3%. In the final popular vote count, the Cook Report found that the final difference was 2.1%. Being 1.2% off on the margin is pretty flipping good.
- In terms of the percent per candidate, the polls did worse because people over reported support for 3rd parties. Stein and Johnson together got 3% more in the polls than the results. This is evidence for the “parking lot theory of third parties.”
However, the state polls sucked. Not too hard, but they did suck a little bit, except Wisconsin and Minnesota, which totally sucked:
- Wisconsin – off by over 7%.
- Michigan – off by 3.4%
- Ohio – off by 4.6%
- Pennsylvania – off by 2.6%, which is not bad. HRC losing Pennsylvania was definitely within the margin of error here.
- Minnesota – off by 4.7% (My average, 6.2% vs. 1.5% final)
This is consistent with conventional wisdom about state polls, which is that they are less reliable because it is hard to pinpoint people in states, hard to identify likely voters, and have smaller electorates that can fluctuate (e.g., voter registration laws or bad weather).
Still, in retrospect, looking at state polls did suggest that a popular vote/electoral vote split was possible. A Trump victory was within the margin of error of the polling average in a number of states such as New Hampshire and Pennsylvania. This observation about state polls is also consistent with the finding that the HRC lead was due to urban centers.
Bottom line: The conventional social science about polls held up. National polls do decently, states polls a bit worse and in some cases badly. However, they was plenty of evidence that Trump might get an electoral college victory, but you had to really read the state polls carefully.
will trade associations exacerbate growing economic inequality in the united states? a guest post by howard aldrich
Howard Aldrich is the Kenan Professor of Sociology at UNC-Chapel Hill. This post examines an important question at the intersection of economic and political sociology, the role that trade groups have in American politics. This post originally appeared on Howard Aldrich’s blog and is reposted with permission.
An essay prepared for a special section of the Journal of Management Inquiry gave me an opportunity to reflect on potential social changes in the US resulting from major political changes over the past three decades. I believe a long-term decline in class consensus within the American business elite (Mizruchi, 2013) has raised the relative power of trade associations, compared to the powerful peak business associations of a bygone era, paving the way for more narrow self-interested actions and diminishing the influence of other kinds of interest associations. The worldview of the incoming president and his cabinet officials will facilitate this development, I believe.
Historically, business managers and owners could attempt to exert influence at four different levels in the system. First, they could get involved as individual executives, contributing money, lobbying officials and agencies, and so forth. Second, representatives of their organizations could do the same, especially through board interlocks with other firms in different industries, through which could diffuse general business practices as well as practices aimed at producing public goods (Davis & Greve, 1997; Galaskiewicz, 1985). Third, firms could participate in specific industries’ trade associations that favored policies and practices they favored (Ozer & Lee, 2009). Fourth, and perhaps most important, a handful of peak associations sat above the previous three levels, cutting across firms and industries, and claiming to speak for the business community as a whole. For example, the now-defunct CED (Committee for Economic Development) advertised itself as offering “reasoned solutions from business in the nation’s interests.”
(I made some edits from an earlier version to better distinguish sociologists of education from ed reformers.)
Teaching a graduate seminar on sociology of education this quarter has helped me to realize that I’m actually a sociologist of schools rather than a sociologist of education. By that I mean that sociologists of education (as I’m calling them) are mostly interested in the processes of education as potential mechanisms to explain the real questions, which are about stratification. In contrast, sociologists of schools (as I’m calling them) look at how schools work, what schools do, and the experience of schooling. That kind of work is more commonly qualitative (whether historical, interviews, or ethnography) and often books. It’s striking: for nine of the ten weeks of this course I’m giving a book plus some articles, and the book is almost always what I’m calling sociology of schools and the articles are almost always what I’m calling sociology of education. And to be especially clear: that’s not a criticism. The sociology of education’s focus on stratification is vitally important, even more so given possible changes that might be happening under the Trump presidency. So I’m not calling attention to a problem as much as a difference.
The first book we read in the seminar—Jal Mehta’s excellent The Allure of Order—describes this process not within the sociology of education but within education reform discussions, which generally focus on the difference between inputs and outputs rather than what happens between them. The difference is that while the sociology of education brackets all but the most relevant questions about what happens in schools as a means of answering specific questions about stratification, ed reformers seem to have utterly circumscribed the understanding of what school is or could be. Of course ed reformers are a diverse bunch, but the ones who win tend to be similar. Mehta argues that this is a function of the power of certain “policy paradigms” and also the result of a weakened education field. Mehta gives a lot of reasons why teachers are a semi-profession, but the important point for my discussion here is that teachers are therefore unable to insist on the integrity of their process. For more autonomous professions like doctors and lawyers, it’s actually not the input vs. output that matters but rather the process. A doctor can get in trouble for malpractice and a lawyer can get in trouble for negligence, but these are both critiques of the process itself, not the different between inputs and outputs. In contrast, Mehta shows, teachers are told to do basically whatever they want: there’s a shockingly wide variety of ways to teach, with a pretty big pluralism and a relatively loose coupling between high level reform goals regarding outputs and on-the-ground procedures on how to achieve them provided they achieve them.
What’s interesting about this is how both academics and reformers can then discuss schooling as itself a black box, often with a language of (what some might call neoliberal) efficiency. Schooling ceases to be an intrinsic good and becomes a means towards particular individual or societal ends. I was struck by this at a talk I attended last night run by the AERA. They invited academics from around the Los Angeles area, and we heard Bridget Terry Long give a really excellent lecture on how to help low-income students get into college. I learned a lot, and the discussion afterwards was quite helpful. Yet what struck me was the way in which—except for two questions at the end (one of which was mine)—college was always framed as a means towards an end, a necessary way to achieve a certain amount of financial security and wider agency regarding possible life options. That’s of course true: the data is devastating.
Yet, as I said in a question, if we—those who work in colleges and universities—cannot make the case that college is a good in and of itself rather than a means towards particular good ends, then we’re actually all doing something pretty dangerous. We’re forcing students to spend a ton of money so they can have a particular kind of life. Even if—somehow!—college became free, we’d still be forcing them to spend a lot of time. Now I actually believe that’s time well spent and that college has a wide range of intrinsic goods, but that’s not often the way we academics and reformers talk about it. If college is not intrinsically good—if it’s just an arbitrary credential people need to have a degree of agency and a wider range of life choices—it seems to me the key task is not getting more people into college but rather trying to make a world where such an accreditation is not necessary.
So why do we require college? On its own and not just because they need it? Part of the answer, as Professor Long said in her response to my question, is because college allows students to spend time with people and ideas who are very different from them. Although, of course, colleges can still be quite stratified in terms of who goes where (or who’s there at all) and besides, there are much cheaper ways to produce the same effects: a required national year of service for example (look at how people talk about their experiences of the draft).
For me—and I know people think this is naïve—I’m a firm believer in the power of college to help people learn how to think and to be citizens. College should help students become comfortable with complicated ideas, capable of understanding debates referencing science, statistics, and history. They should read some great books by people who are like them and different from them, and maybe they should even learn some sociology. That’s a commitment I think many of us in the academy share, and it’s something I know many of us are passionately democratic about it. But even if that’s how we think about college, it’s not always how we talk about it.
Over at Pacific Standard, Seth Masket expresses surprise at the fact that many in the Republican party have abandoned traditional GOP policy goals and ideological beliefs:
Most recently, this has been apparent in Trump’s responses to reports by American intelligence agencies that Russia and WikiLeaks hacked Democratic National Committee servers and worked to undermine Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign… Most recently, this has been apparent in Trump’s responses to reports by American intelligence agencies that Russia and WikiLeaks hacked Democratic National Committee servers and worked to undermine Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign.
And it doesn’t stop with the GOP’s new Russophilia:
Another core tenet of modern Republicanism, of course, is free-market capitalism. The best economic system, the party maintains, is one in which businesses can operate with minimal regulation and thus produce wealth and innovation that benefit everyone. Trump’s approach has literally been the opposite of that. To use the tax code and other tools to selectively bully and punish companies that exhibit undesirable but legal behavior, such as building plants in other countries, is many things, but it’s not free-market capitalism. But many Republican leaders have nonetheless enthusiastically backed Trump’s approach.
I have a different view. My opinion is that GOP talking points are cheap talk and did not express true ideological commitment. For example, Republicans talk free trade, but they feel free to restrict labor through migration restrictions, they were always willing to give breaks to specific firms, and hand out subsidies to specific groups (remember the faith based initiatives?). A strict libertarian approach to trade in the GOP has really been a minority view. In other words, “free trade” is fun to say but in practice, they don’t follow it. It’s yet another example of “libertarian chic” among conservatives.
So what’s my theory? Like all parties, the GOP is a pragmatic coalition. Ideology is secondary in most cases. It’s about getting a sufficiently large block of people together so you can win elections. If you believe this theory of political parties, ideology is really not that important and, in most cases, it can be dropped at any time. In American history, for example, the Democrats and Republican parties switched positions on Black rights as part of an attempt to win the South.
This theory – that ideology is only as good as its ability to maintain a coalition – best explains the GOP policy points that Trump has rigidly stuck to: anti-immigration and abortion. And it makes sense, the two most steadfast groups in the GOP are social conservatives/evangelicals and working class whites in the South and Midwest. These groups don’t care much about foreign relations or free trade. What Trump has shown is that populism will melt away every thing except your most cherished beliefs.
Whenever I write about jobs and graduate school on this blog, I usually get one or two people who accuse me of “careerism.” For example, when I wrote about how to be productive a few weeks ago, the following comment was posted by jon:
What Fabio was talking about is probably careerism. Most successful scholars, may I say, unfortunately do follow that trajectory. But there are a few great ones that don’t. Only real geniuses are productive. Average good scholars are remembered for only one or two pieces of masterful works. This is most obvious in hard science such as mathematics and physics, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t apply to social science.
The previous comment, by Santosh Sali, elaborates:
Reading the post – gives me few impressions,
1) Being productive is about making “work-around” for serious, solo, committed work.
2) Academia is all about “Publishing” . And “teaching” doesn’t matter or it is “mundane” n trivial aspect.
3) So then where is original “contribution” of researcher? How will system assess/evaluate it?
4)Also using doctoral scholars, post-docs to work with is “collaboration” or “something else”.
5) also I have genuine doubt, these suggestions – will bring “breadth” in your work, what about “depth” – isn’t that people enter academia for this? (Or probably I am in utopian world).
A few responses. If by “careerism,” you mean “you wish to rewarded and promoted for doing good teaching and research,” then yes, I am absolutely a careerist. If you mean by careerism means “avoiding doing good work and focusing only on raises and promotions,” then, no, I do not mean that and nothing I wrote supports that.
Rather, my recommendations are about working smart. For example, let’s take Santosh’ #2 point – “academia is all about publishing.” Actually, I never said that. As any faculty member will tell you, academia is about many things. In a liberal arts college, you will do lots and lots of teaching. Even in a research university, professors will spend a lot of time prepping lectures, meetings with students, and grading papers. I know I do! Academia is also about administration and service.
The tricky thing is how to balance all these demands. My suggestion from the post boils down to a few ideas: work in groups; recognize diminishing returns; recognize work that can be minimized or avoided. At no point did I saw that you should do poorly in the class room. Rather, you should try to recognize that there may be a way to be an excellent teacher without creating more work for yourself. Same with research. Sure, *some* types of research *might* require a lot of solo work. But normally, most work improves with collaborators. So if you want to improve at your job, give these ideas a chance.