Fact-checking during campaigns helps make sure the truth is communicated–but also teaches voters that there is a “right answer” and trains them to listen for true vs. false instead of right vs. wrong.
Timothy Carney wrote an article earlier this week decrying what he calls the “rampant abuse of data” by pollsters and the press this election season. He faults North Carolina’s hometown polling company, Public Policy Polling (PPP), among others, for asking “dumb polling questions” such as the popularity of the erstwhile Cincinnati Zoo gorilla Harambe; support for the Emancipation Proclamation; and support for bombing Agrabah, the fictional country in which the Disney film Aladdin is set.
While I agree with Carney that many of the interpretations of these questions are very problematic (and I should note that I have used PPP many times to field polls for my own research), I think he’s wrong that these are dumb questions and that the answers therefore do not constitute “data.” Quite the opposite: asking vague and difficult-to-answer questions is an important technique for assaying culture and, thereby, revealing contours of public opinion that cannot be observed using conventional polling.
The following is a guest post by Charles Kurzman
America may be divided these days, but it is hardly as divided as when the United States of America were plural.
That’s the grammar used in the Declaration of Independence, which characterized “the thirteen united States of America” as “Free and Independent States.” The founders spoke of “these United States,” a phrase that sounds quaint today but was taken literally at the time.
Catherine Bolzendahl, Vanessa Kauffman, Jessica Broadfoot
UC, Irvine, Department of Sociology
Olympic fever has hit! As we all marvel at the power, precision, and grace of the athletes, a more disturbing commentary has also emerged, one that diminishes women athletes’ accomplishments, defines them by the men around them, places them in tired tropes of sex objects, or infantilizes them as “girls.” Some journalists, in combination with a robust social media discussion, are calling this bad behavior out.1 But should we be so surprised? Continue reading “coaching and masculinity: a “natural” combination? (guest post)”
I read Aldon Morris’s much-anticipated book, The Scholar Denied, with great interest. I heard Morris talk about the book when he visited UNC last year, and have read and taught some shorter work he’s published from this project. I was not disappointed – it’s a great book, meticulously documented, passionately argued, and sure to correct many important parts of the historical record on the development of American sociology. I learned quite a bit about W. E. B. du Bois’s life and intellectual productivity. Separating the book’s argument into three related claims, I find the first two fully demonstrated. However, I remain unsure of the third, most ambitious, case the book tries to defend.
In the Washington Post earlier this week, Steve Pearlstein published a piece promoting four things universities should do to cut costs:
- Cap administrative costs
- Operate year round, five days a week
- More teaching, less (mediocre) research
- Cheaper, better general education
The next day, Daniel Drezner responded with four things columnists should do before writing about universities.
- Define what you mean by “universities.”
- Don’t exaggerate the problems that actually exist.
- Don’t rely on outdated data.
- Be honest that you’re using higher ed reform as an implicit industrial policy.
A couple of weeks ago I got in a friendly back-and-forth on Twitter with my friend and colleague Daniel Kreiss. Daniel was annoyed by this article, which purports to reveal why Mitt Romney chose Paul Ryan to be his running mate by deploying median-voter theory. Daniel’s frustration was this:
I love these studies – complicated models, and no one thought to ask former staffers what went into the decision. https://t.co/t99mfXhyUl
— Daniel Kreiss (@kreissdaniel) November 16, 2015
Here’s the record of our conversation. More thoughts below the break.