It's Christmas. The season of giving.
Thomas Friedman is giving me heartburn.
These days it seems like half of Friedman's columns are about how much better China is than America. His latest column is more of the same. He doesn't really talk about all the slave labor the Chinese use to power their economy, nor the pollution problems. As for the underdeveloped countryside? Well it sometimes seems like Friedman doesn't actually know that China has non-urban areas. It also seems like Friedman doesn't understand the concept of a Communist government that spends disproportionate resources on polishing and cleaning up areas where foreigners (and especially foreign journalists) are likely to go in order to present an attractive and appealing image.
He's not wrong that America needs to invest in infrastructure and science, nor in claiming that Kennedy Airport could use some serious refurbishing, but it really seems like Friedman doesn't understand that some of the shabbiness of America is the price of freedom (China doesn't have any limitations on eminent domain usage, for example, which is one of the things that prevents America from redeveloping as easily) and part of it is the price of being an early adopter. It's much cheaper and easier to be a little behind the curve.
It's frustrating, because America is arrogant and has made a lot of mistakes, but Friedman seems to be a utopianist who doesn't understand that sometimes you have to compromise to do the right thing. If dirty train platforms are the price of not arresting people for littering then I am willing to pay that price. Friedman is not. Friedman notes that China has censored the New York Times and other news sites as if it is a phenomenon completely distinct from the gleaming bullet trains and perfect Wi-Fi access. It isn't. The two are tightly related.
It's not just that Thomas Friedman can't see the forest for the trees, it's that he doesn't seem to know that there are forests or trees.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sentences should mean something
From a New York Times article about Evander Holyfield:
"Nor is it about pride or re-establishing his name, no small feat for someone so far removed from fame, other than for his “Dancing With the Stars” gig, that Google Earth would be hard-pressed to find him."
What does "So far removed from fame that Google Earth would be hard-pressed to find him." Mean. Is Google Earth good at finding famous people? No, of course not. So maybe it's a metaphor. Is Google Earth good at finding famous sites, like landmark buildings or natural wonders? Well yes. Is it bad at finding non-famous things, like your house or your hometown or some random barn in Arkansas? No. It's good at those things too, which is a good deal of its charm. So what, exactly, is the reference to Google Earth intended to do? Why is it there? I literally do not know. This is bad writing at its most blatant and it's in the New York Times and I know its a sports story but an editor should have caught this because it's a meaningless sentence. How would I fix it? Well, I would, perhaps, not accuse someone of being removed from fame when I was writing a BOXING article about him for the NEW YORK TIMES. Non-famous boxers do not get into the New York Times unless they have just beaten a famous boxer and thus become famous themselves. There are over 170 articles about Holyfield's upcoming fight in Google's news aggregator. Holyfield is less famous now than when he got his ear bitten off by Mike Tyson, but he's well remembered by boxing fans and the populace at large. I'd wager more people remember the ear biting than the Dancing appearance.
This sentence is the kind of lazy writing that a decent high school or college is supposed to beat out of you. It doesn't belong in professional writing and it certainly doesn't belong in the New York Times. It's not just that standards have slipped, it's like they barely exist anymore. You want to make a specious claim combined with an incomprehensible reference in the paper of record? Go ahead.
Shameful.
"Nor is it about pride or re-establishing his name, no small feat for someone so far removed from fame, other than for his “Dancing With the Stars” gig, that Google Earth would be hard-pressed to find him."
What does "So far removed from fame that Google Earth would be hard-pressed to find him." Mean. Is Google Earth good at finding famous people? No, of course not. So maybe it's a metaphor. Is Google Earth good at finding famous sites, like landmark buildings or natural wonders? Well yes. Is it bad at finding non-famous things, like your house or your hometown or some random barn in Arkansas? No. It's good at those things too, which is a good deal of its charm. So what, exactly, is the reference to Google Earth intended to do? Why is it there? I literally do not know. This is bad writing at its most blatant and it's in the New York Times and I know its a sports story but an editor should have caught this because it's a meaningless sentence. How would I fix it? Well, I would, perhaps, not accuse someone of being removed from fame when I was writing a BOXING article about him for the NEW YORK TIMES. Non-famous boxers do not get into the New York Times unless they have just beaten a famous boxer and thus become famous themselves. There are over 170 articles about Holyfield's upcoming fight in Google's news aggregator. Holyfield is less famous now than when he got his ear bitten off by Mike Tyson, but he's well remembered by boxing fans and the populace at large. I'd wager more people remember the ear biting than the Dancing appearance.
This sentence is the kind of lazy writing that a decent high school or college is supposed to beat out of you. It doesn't belong in professional writing and it certainly doesn't belong in the New York Times. It's not just that standards have slipped, it's like they barely exist anymore. You want to make a specious claim combined with an incomprehensible reference in the paper of record? Go ahead.
Shameful.
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