I just ran across this short 2008 clip of Ronald Inglehart talking to Bobbie Mixon of the NSF about the happiness findings in the latest wave of the World Value’s Survey. I’m a big Inglehart fan, so I thought I’d pass this along.

Tyler started this nice meme. I’m a bit skeptical about the reliability of introspection and memory, and I think this kind of thing generally reflects one’s favorite current self-construction rather than real influence, so I’ll try to avoid that, but I won’t entirely. I guess I’ll do this roughly chronologically, and leave out the Bible and the Book of Mormon…

1. The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster and Jules Feiffer. This book made me realize that it is possible to play with words and ideas. I can’t even remember much of the story now.  (Is it Milo?) What I remember is the revelation that it is possible to get a thrill from manipulating ideas and the words that express them.

2. Dune by Frank Herbert. The Dune books connected with me deeply as a teenager. They appealed, I think, to the sense that people have profound untapped powers that discipline can draw out; e.g., Mentats, Bene Gesserit. Also, it appealed to the fantasy that I might have special awesome hidden powers, like Paul Atreides, and that they might just sort of come to me, as a gift of fate, without the hassle of all that discipline. I think this book is why I was slightly crushed when I turned 18 and realized that not only was I not a prodigy, but I wasn’t amazingly good at anything. I sometimes still chant the Litany against Fear when I’m especially nervous or panicking about something.

3. The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller/The Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. I’m cheating on this one, since these came out about the same time and had a similar effect on me, and I don’t know which one to pick. Superhero comics can give a kid a pretty comprehensive mythology, a well of types and tropes and quests to draw from in the effort to make sense of the world. Miller and Moore/Gibbons convinced me at a vulnerable, self-conscious age that superhero mythology was not necessarily kid’s stuff, and that even superhero comics could be real art. So I planned to become a comics auteur, like Frank Miller.

4. A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. This book ordered and amplified my awe at the natural world. The fact that I could more or less understand it made me feel confident about being smart.

4. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I read this at nineteen while working at the Joseph Smith Historic Center in Nauvoo, IL for the summer. I was just getting a strong sense of myself as a person apart from my family and hometown friends. I’d been excited by Bill Clinton in the 1992 Democratic convention and was toying with voting for him. Then I read Atlas Shrugged. I began reading the libertarian canon and I voted for Andre Marrou that Fall. I started paying more attention to my philosophy classes than my art classes. Ayn Rand is why I almost became an academic philosopher, why I became a libertarian, and why I work at Cato. She also all-but destroyed my interest in making art, since I could not at the time I was under her influence square her ideology of art with my own creative impulses.  I still suffer from this.

5. The Bell Curve by Charles Murray and Richard Herrnstein. This is the first intellectual book I ever reviewed in print. I gave it a mixed review in the Northern Iowan. (I think I had some misgivings about some of the race and IQ stuff, but I understood that it was not a book about race.) A sociology professor either sent me an email or wrote a letter to the editor (I don’t remember which!) condemning me for not condemning the book for being racist. This was my first taste of the excitement and frustration of participating in public intellectual life. I was  impressed with Murray’s fortitude and grace in the face of what seemed to me to be outrageously unfair, truly scurrilous attacks. And it helped me understand the difference between trying hard to honestly think through tough social problems because you care and mouthing comfortable pieties in an effort to get credit for caring.

6. The Geneology of Morals by Friedrich Nietzsche. Morality has a history and its value is open to question. Our deepest intellectual commitments reflect deeper psychological needs. If this book (or Nietzsche generally) doesn’t make you wonder why you really believe what you do, then you are a clod. If I am hungry for the buzz of illumination, I go back to Nietzsche.

7. Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle. The best class I had as an undergraduate was a grad seminar on the Nicomachean Ethics taught by a Straussean. This is one of the best books ever written (or best set of lectures compiled) by one of the best minds ever. The paper I wrote for this seminar on what it means to have a stable disposition to action sparked my interest in moral psychology.

8. Law, Legislation, and Liberty by F.A. Hayek. Rand made me a libertarian. Hayek made me a liberal. I don’t know how much of what I believe comes from Hayek, but it’s a lot.

9. Tractatus Logic0-Philosophicus by Ludwig Wittgenstein. Still dominates how I think about modality and the bounds of what may sensibly be said. There is no book more like great architecture.

10. Universals: An Opinionated Introduction by David M. Armstrong. Initiated my love of metaphysics and Australian realism, though Armstrong never did argue me out of nominalism.

11. In Praise of Commercial Culture by Tyler Cowen. This book angered my inner Randian, but delighted my native sensibility. When I got home from my first IHS seminar, Tyler Cowen lecture in mind, free Tyler Cowen book in hand, I went straight to my computer to begin writing a furious denunciation, which I never finished. But I’m still curious about folk art and foreign cuisines and have since repeated Tyler-like arguments to so many people so many times that I forget what I ever thought was wrong with them.

12. Morals by Agreement by David Gauthier. This book was the key that unlocked the contractarian treasure chest for me. Made me understand at a much deeper level the point of moral constraints on self-interested behavior, and why they would be impossible if we were well described by stripped-down models of instrumental rationality.

13. A Theory of Justice by John Rawls. I dug into this book with the intention of saying what was really, really wrong with it. Instead, I ended up feeling like I understood political philosophy.

I’ll leave it at that, since now I’m trying to think of books that can stand in for the influence certain thinkers have had on me. I’ll just stick with books that notably changed me. I’m embarrassed that no works of fiction I read as an adult came to mind.

From Two Cheers for Capitalism, 1978:

And what if the ’self’ that is ‘realized’ under the conditions of liberal capitalism is a self that despises liberal capitalism and uses its liberty to subvert and abolish a free society? To this question Hayek — like Friedman — has no answer.

And yet this is the question we now confront, as our society relentlessly breeds more and more such selves, whose private vices in no way provide public benefits to a bourgeois order.

There. And now you can say you’ve read every past and future David Brooks column about libertarianism.

Somehow I’ve failed to blog a result about libertarians in one of Jonathan Haidt’s recent papers (with Jesse Graham and Brian Nosek, 2009 — you can request a copy here) on the relationship between political ideology and his five foundations theory of moral sensibility and judgment. (You can read up on that here.)

So here’s some background on the study. Haidt et al have set up a number of online surveys to test their hypothesis about the foundations of moral judgment.  This one concerns a survey titled “Sacredness Survey: What Would You Do for a Million Dollars?”  During registration, participants reported their political identity. An unusually high number of self-identified libertarians (over 1000 out of a sample of a bit more than 8000) took this survey, so they were able to say something about how libertarian moral judgments differ from conservatives’ and liberals’.

The survey asks participants to do the following:

Try to imagine actually doing the following things, and indicate how much money someone would have to pay you (anonymously and secretly) to be willing to do each thing.

They go on to say that you should assume nothing bad will happen to you and that you can’t use the money to make up for your choice. The survey asks how much money someone would have to pay you to kick a dog in the head, renounce your citizenship, get a blood transfusion from a child molester, and so on. Participants were given these options: $0 (I’d do it for free), $10, $100, $1,000, $10,000, $100,000, a million dollars, and never for any amount of money.

All right? So Haidt et al found that the results supported their hypothesis about liberals and conservatives. Liberals care most about the Harm/care and Fairness/reciprocity foundations and accordingly largely refused to make trade-offs on the items that reflected these concerns, but were more willing to perform actions that violated the three “binding” foundations — Ingroup, Authority, and Purity. Conservative concern was spread more evenly over the five foundations, and they were less willing than liberals to violate Ingroup, Authority, and Purity for money.

What about libertarians? Here’s what they say:

Because we had a large sample of libertarians, who are usually ignored in political-psychological research, we compared their sacredness reactions to those of liberals and conservatives. Overall, libertarians showed less refusal to violate the five foundations for money that did liberals or conservatives. Each of the five average never scores for libertarians was lower than the corresponding score for conservatives, and each was lower than the corresponding concern for liberals.

Further down they report:

A further novel finding of the present study was that libertarians had the lowest sacredness scores on all five foundations. This finding supports Tetlock’s predictions [see here] that free-market libertarians would be the least outraged and most open to contractualizing moral violations. The differences were particularly stark between libertarians and conservatives on the three binding foundations. Libertarians may support the Republican Party for economic reasons, but in their moral foundations profile we found they more closely resemble liberals than conservatives. [Emphasis added]

This supports what I’ve been saying for a while now: libertarians are liberals who like markets.

An interesting feature of the Sacredness Survey is that the set-up seems to assume that Purity/sanctity dimension is recruited to reinforce the other dimensions of the moral sense. When we come to find it disgusting to, say, kick a dog in the head, we’re using the Purity/sanctity foundation to amplify the force of our Harm/care judgments.  It stands to reason that those with the least tendency to make judgments on the basis of the Purity/sanctity responses would also be least likely to find it intolerably profane  to bring moral considerations into the cash nexus.

Daron Acemoglu and Pierre Yared find that:

increased nationalist and militarist sentiments, measured by military spending and size, are negatively associated with trade. A country is less likely to open up to neighbours if the country is also becoming more militarised, and trade between two countries grows less rapidly when both countries become more militarised.

I wonder if this supports the idea that bilateral trade increases between countries if both free-ride off the military spending of a third benevolent hegemon.

Classy, in an “I’d Rather Be Partial-Birth Aborting” sort of way.

Read Daniel Larison:

Whenever possible, I refer to the Iraq war as a war of aggression, because that is what it is and has always been. One thing that has often puzzled me about the reflex to declare victory in Iraq, as a Newsweek cover storydid recently, is that I don’t know what it could possibly mean to achieve a victory that anyone would want to celebrate as the result of a war of aggression. Tens and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and thousands of Americans are dead. Tens of thousands of Americans are injured, some of them severely, and Iraq now boasts one of the highest percentages of disabled people in the world. Millions of Iraqis were turned into refugees or displaced within their own country. All of this has come about because of a war that did not have to happen. All of this has come about because of a war we started. It is bad enough that our government unleashed this hell on people who had never actually done America any harm, but it is unconscionable that any of us celebrate what has been done as if it were something good and worthwhile.

Bbbbbut Saddam! Later in the same post, Larison observes that the new regime seems to be reverting to the oppressive ways of the old one.

Every now and again the neocons chide the decadent American culture for encouraging perpetual adolescence. We are a nation of kidults! We should be more serious. We should act more grown up. Well, the adult thing to do in this case, the serious thing, would be to admit that our government, with the blessing of popular opinion, made a huge mistake and is guilty of an immense moral crime. But no. To recognize the war for what it is is to hate America. Why do you hate America, Larison? Why have you hardened your heart, Will? A heart open to love, a heart whose colors don’t run, would know the warm truth: that it is better to be homeless and legless under an unstable, externally imposed democracy than to walk around your house under Saddam Hussein. We did those people a big favor. Even the dead people. Even the people with one eye. Good for us! Sometimes you give and you give and you give and nobody acknowledges how generous you are. No one is grateful. That’s OK. We’re cool with that. At least we recognize our generosity. And at least we’re grateful for us. Greatest f*%#ing country in the world. Long may we reign.

I endorse the general gist of Bryan Caplan’s post on “Why Cronyism Doesn’t Explain the Free Market’s Unpopularity,” but I want to dwell a bit further on some things the post suggests.

Bryan writes:

I’ll admit that [the "hard left" is] often aware of the unholy alliance of business and government.  But it’s naive to conclude that their real beef is with cronyism, not the free market.  Strange as it seems, the hard left sees the unholy alliance of business and government as an argument for government.*

The asterix marks a footnote wherein Bryan continues:

The hard left argument, I guess, is that the weaker business is, the less able it will be to corrupt government.  But can’t government be corrupt all by itself?

I’d say that the “hard left” argument is that the logic of business is the logic of exploitation and that unless there is a countervailing power, people will be exploited, which is very bad. So let’s have government act as the countervailing power. My puzzlement has always been this… If the government is already part of an unholy alliance with business, how is strengthening the hand of government supposed to help?

What I’ve found striking recently is the fact that public choice types and progressives often have very similar ideas about the unholy alliance, but have polar opposite ideas about democracy. The hard public choice view is that democracy all-but guarantees the unholy alliance. The hard progressive view is that only true democracy can prevent or defeat the unholy alliance. At least one of these views is wrong!

For my part, I think that though the public choicers do us a great service in pointing out many of the flaws of democracy, they tend to underestimate democracy’s overall value. As for the progressives, they tend to overestimate democracy’s potential because their theories of true democracy tend to be ridiculously demanding. True democracy ends up requiring something like equal shares before it can get off the ground. Which means that progressives either come to admit that true democracy can never get off the ground (true democracy just is socialism, and socialism is a beautiful but impossible dream!) or they develop an enthusiasm for distinctly non-democratic means of equalizing shares, such as revolution followed by the rule of right-thinking, well-meaning experts. But such means, as a matter of historical fact, have tended not to equalize shares or make democracy more likely.

An interesting commonality between the most extreme public choicers and progressives is that both see the logic of the status quo democracy driving us toward disaster. For the progressive, the unholy alliance generates widening inequalities bound to end in plutocracy. For the public choicer, the unholy alliance leads to the slow strangulation of the productive economy by the ever-swelling predatory state.

But the “mixed economy,” cronyism and all, works rather better than all that. Decent democracies are remarkably robust. My incredibly boring view is that the advanced liberal democracies work pretty well, but could certainly work a lot better. There are degrees of unholiness. The existing alliances between markets and the democratic state are only moderately unholy and could be made less unholy still. There’s ample room for improvements in constitutions, voting systems, the design of legislatures, and whatnot. Anyway, we aren’t doomed by the very logic of democracy, or by the failure of our democracy to much resemble a utopia of egalitarian public deliberation. I think if you develop reasonable expectations about human social life, you’ll see that democracy at its actually-existing best really is pretty terrific and that we’re doing just fine.

Despite my post about the troubles with GDP below, GDP per capita remains a very useful rough estimate of a country’s standard of living. In my happiness research paper, I included  a section defending economic measures like GDP against the charge that measures of money reflect especially “materialist” priorities. On the contrary, I argued, measuring the money at peoples’ disposal is a way to not take sides in arguments about which values ought to granted the highest priority. Because money is not intrinsically valuable, but can be converted into countless things that people do value, income proxy measures like GDP honor the plurality of values by standing relatively neutral in debates about what we should care most about.

While reading this post by Adam Ozimek on Philly’s proposed soda tax, it occurred to me that the fact that taxes on soda and cigarettes seem paternalistic while taxes on income (i.e., taxes on paid work, mostly) don’t seem so paternalistic is a data point in favor of the idea that GDP stats are relatively value neutral when compared to, say, national happiness stats.

Of course, when you think of income taxes as taxes on paid work, they seem pretty perverse. The idea is just to collect money at the source, to take a cut of the individual’s overall annual haul to help finance government. The idea’s not to discourage people from working, or to compensate society for the externalities of working, in the way that soda taxes are meant to discourage soda consumption and compensate society for the externalities of soda consumption. But here’s a thought. Maybe when supply-side economics forcefully emphasizes that income taxes act as a kind of penalty on labor effort , it actually encourages soft-paternalist taxation by challenging our normal assumptions about the relative value neutrality of money-making. If we want to not discourage money-making effort, then what do we want to discourage? Carbon emissions? Sugar consumption? Luxury consumption? The tax money’s got to come from somewhere.

Suppose it’s correct to see the income tax as a not-really-neutral sin tax on labor effort. In that case, doesn’t an income tax then function as counterproductive and badly designed (because accidental) form of soft-paternalist intervention? Wouldn’t it be better to be more explicitly paternalistic and tax soda and transfats and carbon emissions?

Or would some other general tax, a consumption tax maybe, do better at raising adequate revenue while for the most part staying neutral on the question of how people should live? Or is the meddlesome part of the income tax its progressivity, which a flat income tax could avoid?

I raise these question not because I have well-thought-out answers, but because it is clarifying to me to try to raise them clearly. What do you think?

A lot of people are saying government is broken. They’re mainly saying it because the Democratic health care bill isn’t going to pass in a form that gives most Democrats what they wanted. The argument, in its general form, goes like this: There is this huge problem! My team’s favored solution to the problem is politically infeasible. So, politics is broken! When you put it like that, it’s evidently a pretty silly argument.

To get a better grip on the debate behind the debate I think you need to understand that big entitlement politics is about enacting policy that generates a kind of lock-in effect for a new power-shifting political equilibrium. Savvy political operators know that big entitlements, once established, create their own political demand. That’s why, for example, it was so important for the left to kill Social Security reform.

Regarding the sustainability of the American public old-age pension scheme, moving to personal accounts was and is an excellent idea. But it was so attractive to the pro-market coalition in large part because it was believed that widening the investor class to include everybody would, by giving the public a more direct stake in economic performance, limit the discretion of legislators to support growth-hampering regulatory and redistributive policies popular on the left. (Whether it would actually have this political effect or not is an open question, but lots of folks both left and right thought it would.) In any case, defeating the reform proposal was easy enough, since Social Security was pretty effectively designed to be democratically untouchable.

Similarly, it is widely believed by folks both left and right that a huge new health entitlement, once firmly established, would generate its own support, and shift the balance of public opinion toward more a thoroughgoing social democracy (i.e., toward socialism) and away from limited government and relatively free market institutions (i.e., away from liberalism, properly construed). From this perspective, the fact that a party decidedly but temporarily in the minority is able to defeat a measure that would have profound, long-term effects on the basic structure of  the United States’ institutions is very good evidence that the system works! The unsustainable path of Social Security and Medicare goes to show just how dangerous this kind of large-scale policy lock-in can be, and how important it is to have a system that does not produce fundamental changes to the de facto constitution with each peak and valley of the political business cycle.

If you’re worried that the Democrats’ current inability to convert control of the Congress and the presidency into massive structural reform means that our political system can’t do anything at all, you just need to relax and wait until Obama is forced by the large forthcoming GOP gains to set his sights lower. You may be pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised by how much can be accomplished when a more conciliatory strategy is the only option.

And, as Reihan reminds us in an intelligently hopeful new Forbes column, government is not the solution to everything. So even if the political system is broken, America’s entrepreneurial culture (our greatest asset, IMO) may be able to route around the damage. If we let it.

David Henderson has an excellent essay on “GDP Fetishism” up at EconLib. Of the problem of valuing government spending, he writes:

Take the first inaccuracy—the valuing of government-provided goods and services at cost rather than at market prices. Many government programs actually destroy value rather than create it.

This highlights the fact that knowing how much the government spends (as a percentage of GDP, say) is to know something of questionable significance. Henderson talks about the waste created by the TSA. More generally, the United States spends a spectacular amount of money on war ships, fighter planes, and bombs. Most of this is simply unnecessary for the security or defense of the United States, and so amounts to little more than a combination of upward wealth redistribution and throwing money in a hole. That’s domestically. (I’ll pass over the problem of bringing the lost lives of bombed foreigners into the equation.)

Now, we dynamist market-liberal types are right that the government does many things, such as primary education, that competitive markets could do better and more efficiently. If all government spending on education became equivalent private spending overnight, GDP would stay the same (in the short term, before gains in education quality started to pay off in terms of higher productivity), though people would be better off. However, government spending on education, as inefficient as it may be, is giving people something they want and directly benefit from. Much (most?) military and security spending is not like that. My sense is that, despite the U.S.’s historically relatively modest level of government spending, the composition of U.S. spending is such that U.S. taxpayers get less of value in return for their tax dollars than do taxpayers in many places with higher taxes and higher levels of government spending. Which is to say that when using GDP per capita as a proxy for welfare, the U.S. comes off better than it should relative to, say, Canada or Sweden.

Now, one could argue that U.S. military spending and hegemonic U.S. military power, makes it possible for the Canadian government to spend on health-care, from which the Canadian people derive some benefit (even if the service is not provided as efficiently as it could be), rather than on aircraft carriers, from which the Canadian people would derive basically no benefit (since the Americans have already taken care of it). I think this is almost certainly true, but it’s just another way of making the same point: Canadians are better off and Americans are worse off than their GDP stats suggest.

If one additionally takes into account things like the U.S.’s unusually high level of spending on keeping its citizens in prison cells (which we could do much less of without getting more crime), it becomes even clearer that U.S. GDP figures overestimates the U.S. standard of living relative to other wealthy liberal democracies. The composition of spending matters.

The U.S. is an notable anomaly in the happiness data. Average self-reported life satisfaction rose with GDP per capita over the last several decades in almost all wealthy liberal democracies, but not so much in the U.S. The idea that the unusual composition of U.S. government spending gives Americans unusually poor value for their tax dollars might help explain this.

That’s my new column in The Week.

I really struggled with space constraints on this one, and I think I may have done a better job laying out the progressive point-of-view than in rebutting it. But that’s okay. I’ll be happy if this helps anyone understand the ins and outs of the issue a bit better.

I’m firmly in the McArdle/Cowen/Cannon camp in the argument over whether insuring the currently uninsured will have any net effect on mortality within this class. But I think it’s important to emphasize more than others have done that

(a) Extending insurance to the currently uninsured will have no net effect on mortality,

and

(b) Extending insurance to the currently uninsured will save no lives,

are different propositions, and that the truth of (a) does not imply the truth of (b).

Extending insurance to the currently uninsured would save some people’s lives while killing others.

The people most likely to be saved are older, unhealthy people who are now uninsured because they cannot afford insurance. These people would get treatment they need but can’t afford. The people most likely to be killed are people who can now afford but do not want insurance because they are young, healthy and are able to self-insure (or are in a position to be insured by their relatively family). If compelled to buy a health plan, these people would tend to consume more medical care than they would otherwise, exposing them to the very real risks of unnecessary treatment.

I think it’s reasonable to guess that the people most likely to be saved are relatively poor (but not poor enough for Medicaid) and just below the age of Medicare eligibility. The people most likely to be killed are relatively wealthy and in their twenties.

So, while insuring the currently uninsured might come out as a wash in terms of lives saved versus lives lost (or even if there is a small net decrease in mortality), the way one would expect this to affect the distribution of mortality could lead to a decrease in QALYs, which is worth taking into account.

Of course, I don’t know that this is so. This is conjecture, but I think it makes sense. Generally, I’d like to see more about the distributive effects of the Democrats’ HCR plans.

[Update: Links added above for those unaware of the ongoing debate. See also links at end of Megan's linked post.]

Amartya Sen’s The Idea of Justice, p. 143:

There is something of a tyranny of idea in seeing the political divisions of states … as being, in some way, fundamental, and in seeing them not only as practical constraints to be addressed, but as divisions of basic significance in ethics and political philosophy.

I like to call Sen’s “tyranny of idea” the United Nations Fallacy. I’m delighted to see him ride one of my hobbyhorses.

There are, more formally, two fallacies: (1) analytical nationalism and (2) normative nationalism. Analytical nationalism takes states as basic units of explanatory and comparative significance. This error leads to absurdities like comparing social indicators of geographically immense, populous, diverse nation states, such as the U.S. or China, with those of tiny principalities and island states, such as Liechtenstein or Tuvalu. Normative nationalism takes states as basic units of significance in social morality. This error tends to cause us to overlook the immense importance of questions about the justice of the principles that determine inclusion and exclusion in political and economic institutions. So we worry about whether relatively poor people in rich nations are rich enough for our tastes rather than about whether the global system of borders and passports wrongfully traps the world’s poorest people in places with corrupt, immiserating institutions.

[via Matt Zwolinski on Facebook]

From Christopher Shea at the Boston Globe:

[A]t the website Experimental Philosophy, a professor at the City University of New York, Wesley Buckwalter, presents evidence that men and women intuit different conclusions when faced with the same sets of facts.

[...]

Buckwalter goes on to make a much broader argument: Perhaps one reason for the dearth of professional female philosophers is that, from freshman seminars on, their intuitions are dismissed as flatly wrong by men. They are told that they just don’t “get it.”

The experiment in question is this one.

Even before x-phi was in vogue, I was led to skepticism about philosophy-by-intuition by the fact that philosophers’ intuitions about notorious cases seemed to reflect the distinctive slant of their graduate education. Now, I found graduate education in philosophy extremely valuable nonetheless. But the least valuable part is the subtle indoctrination that goes on as professors subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) pressure grad students into abandoning their prior intuitions in order to prove to they “get it” to the master.

But this is complicated by the fact that the pressure toward conformity with the views of people who can make or break your academic career is not easily distinguished from one of the most valuable parts of a good philosophical education: learning how to draw out and evaluate the elusive and minute assumptions upon which our intuitions are so often founded. And then there is the inconvenient truth that true belief does often rest on the direct apprehension of certain fundamental facts, or fundamental relations among them. One cannot reason others into grasping these facts, but can only wheedle, nudge them rhetorically into a position from which they can see it too.

Buckwalter’s result raises interesting question about how we come to have certain intuitions.  Buckwalter says, “I argue for what I call the normative evaluation hypothesis, or the idea that the gender differences in epistemic intuition arise as a result of the way men and women consult normative factors in formulating their intuitive judgments across domain.” I can’t quite see why, bio-psychologically or culturally, women and men would differ in this way. I’d like to hear a good story about that, and, from my glance at the paper, Buckwalter doesn’t appear to have one. But there is some good discussion in the comments of his post.