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A hundred days ago Wu'er Kaixi was a fugitive.... Yesterday, before an
audience of 800 Americans and Chinese at Brandeis University, he showed
what brought a 21-year-old Beijing Normal School student to the head of
an earth-shaking movement.
      He sang a song about a wolf.
And he told people who had listened to two days of often-ponderous
analysis of the student movement that Chinese rock music composers Qin
Qi of Taiwan and Cui Jian of mainland China were more important to the
students than the dissident physicist Fang Lizhi...
      The auditorium buzzed with the gasps and whispers of delighted students
and their bewildered elders.
            (Boston Globe, September 18, 1989)

John Sebastian's famous lyric about the impossibility of "trying to tell
a stranger about rock and roll" notwithstanding, it was a special moment
indeed when Wu'er Kaixi--the flamboyant Tiananmen student
leader--attempted to do just that. I know. I was one of the strangers
who heard him sing Qin Qi's "Wolf From the North" and explain what its
celebration of individualism meant to his generation. The students
agreed with senior dissidents that institutions must change, he said,
but what they yearned for most was to live in a freer society. (The
anniversary of the Beijing massacre recently passed, on June 4.)

When I witnessed Wu'er's performance, even though I was no longer a
student and even though I had misgivings about any single activist
claiming to speak for the Tiananmen generation, I was definitely in the
"delighted" camp. One reason was that I was in Shanghai in 1986 when
demonstrations occurred that helped lay the groundwork for those of
1989. I was struck then by the Western media's tendency to overstate the
dissident Fang Lizhi's impact. Students found his speeches inspiring,
but other things also triggered protests: complaints about compulsory
calisthenics, for example, and a scuffle at--of all things--a Jan and
Dean concert.

Another reason Wu'er's performance pleased me was that I was to give a
presentation at Harvard the next evening and planned to talk about a
song, albeit one without a backbeat: "Frère Jacques." Why that
one? Because Chinese youth often put new lyrics to it during pre-1949
protests, Red Guards did likewise in the 1960s and the Tiananmen
protesters had just followed suit. Wu'er used a new song to argue for
his generation's uniqueness. But I used an old one to show how often he
and others had reworked (albeit often unconsciously) a rich inherited
tradition.

I also pointed out that the lyrics to the latest version of
"Frère Jacques" (which began "Down With Li Peng, Down With Li
Peng, Deng Xiaoping, Deng Xiaoping," and which went on to refer to these
and other Communist Party leaders as "bullies") expressed contempt for
corrupt, autocratic officials.

A desire for reform and personal freedom helped get students onto the
streets--not just in Beijing but in scores of Chinese cities. A major
reason that workers joined them there in such large numbers, though, was
moral outrage, widespread disgust with power-holders whose attachment to
the ideals of the Communist revolution of 1949 had seemingly disappeared
completely. The country's leaders now seemed only to care about
protecting their privileged positions. And this meant, I argued, that
there were topical as well as melodic links between 1989 and some
protests of the first half of the century. During the civil war era
(1945-49), for example, demonstrators criticized the ruling Nationalist
Party's leaders for being corrupt and abandoning the ideals of the
revolution that had brought them to power.

In the many books on the events of 1989 published in Chinese and Western
languages in the past dozen years, the uniqueness of the Tiananmen
generation, the root causes of their activism and the songs that
inspired them have all been handled in still different ways from the two
just described. Most notably, when it comes to music, many Tiananmen
books--including the two under review--have singled out for special
attention one of two songs that neither Wu'er Kaixi nor I discussed.
These are a Communist anthem (the "Internationale") and a composition by
Taiwan pop star Hou Dejian ("Heirs of the Dragon"). Students frequently
sang these songs throughout the demonstrations of mid-April through late
May. And each was sung a final time by the last group of students to
leave Tiananmen Square on June 4, during a pre-dawn exodus that took
them through the nearby streets, which had just been turned into killing
fields by the People's Liberation Army.

Zhao Dingxin's The Power of Tiananmen is the latest in a long
line of works to treat the "Internationale" as the movement's most
revealing song. He claims, in a section on "The Imprint of Communist
Mass Mobilization," that students were drawn to it because it is
"rebellious in spirit" and because a steady diet of post-1949
party-sponsored "revolutionary dramas and films" in which the song
figured had made singing it "a standard way of expressing" discontent
with the status quo. In this section, as elsewhere in his study, Zhao
stresses the importance of history in shaping 1989, but he sees only the
preceding forty years as directly relevant. In contrast to my approach,
which linked the pre-Communist and Communist eras, he distinguishes
sharply between (nationalistic) pre-1949 protests and the
("pro-Western") Tiananmen ones.

The Monkey and the Dragon mentions the "Internationale" and many
other compositions (from Cui Jian's rousing "Nothing to My Name" to the
punk-rock song "Garbage Dump"), but the gently lilting "Heirs" gets most
attention. This is to be expected. Linda Jaivin's book is not a
Tiananmen study per se (though 170 pages of it deal with 1989) but a
biography of Hou Dejian. This fascinating singer-songwriter grew up in
Taiwan and, while still in his 20s, saw "Heirs" become a hit (and be
appropriated for political purposes) on both sides of the Taiwan Strait.
Soon afterward, he surprised everyone (even close friends like Jaivin)
by defecting to the mainland--only to quickly become a gadfly to the
authorities there.

Hou ended up playing key roles in 1989 both as a songwriter (he penned a
song for the movement, "Get Off the Stage," which called on aging
leaders like Deng to retire) and eventually as a direct participant. He
stayed aloof from the movement at first, but from late May onward threw
himself into it with abandon. In short order, he flew to Hong Kong to
perform in a fundraiser, returned to Beijing to join other intellectuals
in a hunger strike, then helped negotiate a temporary cease-fire that
allowed that last group of youths to leave the square on June 4. In 1990
the party shipped him back across the strait, making him, as Jaivin puts
it, with typical irreverence and stylistic flair, "the first Taiwan
defector to be returned to sender."

Patriotism is the central theme of "Heirs" (the "Dragon" in its title is
China), and Jaivin argues that this explains the song's appeal to a
generation of Chinese students who (like many of their predecessors) saw
themselves as charged with an epic mission to save their homeland from
misrule. According to Jaivin, this patriotism occasionally blurred into
a narrow jingoism of a sort that appalled Hou--particularly because his
song was used to express it. Her discussion of "Heirs" thus plays up
1989's nationalistic side and links it both backward (to pre-1949
struggles by youths determined to save their country) and forward (to
such events as the anti-NATO demonstration that broke out when the
Chinese Embassy in Belgrade was hit by US warplanes in 1999).

These opening comments on music are meant to convey three things. First,
China's 1989 was a complex, multifaceted struggle (not a simple
"democracy" movement). Second, in part because of this, the events of
that year remain open to competing interpretations, even among those of
us who dismiss (as everyone should) Beijing's self-serving "Big Lie"
about the government's supposed need to use force to pacify
"counterrevolutionary" riots. Third--and this is a much more general
point--providing a clear picture of a multifaceted movement is never
easy.

This is because one has to grapple continually not only with big
questions of interpretation but also numerous small ones of
detail--right down to picking which songs to discuss. This is true
whether the protesters in question are American or Chinese and whether
the person doing the grappling is a former participant (like Wu'er), a
cultural historian (like me), a dispassionate sociologist (like Zhao) or
an impassioned, iconoclastic, frequently entertaining, often insightful
and sometimes self-indulgent
journalist-turned-novelist-turned-biographer (like Jaivin). Whatever the
movement, whoever the writer, contrasting approaches to small matters
can create big gaps in overall perspective.

Leaving China aside, consider how minor divergences can create major
differences in presentations of an American student movement--that of
the 1960s--depending on the answers given to the following questions:
When exactly did this movement begin and end? Which student activists
and which nonstudents (leaders of related struggles, radical
philosophers, singers, politicians) had the largest impact? How much
weight should we give to the protesters' stated goals? How much to
actions that contradicted these? Were countercultural elements central
or peripheral to the movement? Give one set of answers and Abbie Hoffman
gets a chapter to himself, but give another and he becomes a footnote.
The same goes for everyone from Mario Savio to Malcolm X, Herbert
Marcuse to Jane Fonda, Jimi Hendrix to Ronald Reagan. It also goes for
such events as the Free Speech Movement (too early?), be-ins
(irrelevant?) and the first gay-pride parades (too late?).

Accounts of student movements can also diverge, depending on the answers
given to more basic questions. If one has complete data and knows a lot
about "political opportunity structures" and "rational choice analysis,"
can one explain all dimensions of a movement? Or will some things remain
mysterious, such as the moment when a nonviolent event turns violent or
the process by which a song or chant assumes talismanic properties? Do
we need to leave room for spontaneous, even irrational individual
choices? To put this another way, do we need to make analytic space for
what might best be termed--for lack of a more precise word--magic? I
mean by this both the black magic that transforms a group of individuals
into a lynch mob and the glorious sort that leads to brave acts of
inspiring heroism.

It may be true that the potential for divergence between accounts is
unusually great in that particular case, due to the struggle's
protracted nature and connections to other upheavals, especially the
civil rights movement. And yet, anyone who reads Zhao's study and then
Jaivin's book may doubt this. Tiananmen was comparatively short-lived
and self-contained, yet accounts of China's 1989 spin off in
dramatically different directions.

This is not to say that Zhao's and Jaivin's treatments of Tiananmen
never converge. You could even claim that for works by such different
authors--Jaivin's previous writings include a rollicking novel called
Eat Me, while Zhao's peer-reviewed scholarly articles are
peppered with charts and tables--their books have much in common. One
author may rely on things she observed and was told in 1989, the other
on interviews conducted later according to social scientific protocols,
but some of their narrative choices are the same. For instance, each
focuses tightly on Beijing as a site of protest (it was actually just
one of many) and of state violence (there was also a massacre in
Chengdu). And each pays relatively little attention to workers.

Still, it is the divergences between the discussions of 1989 that remain
most striking. There are people Jaivin discusses in detail (Cui Jian)
who are not even listed in Zhao's index. And there are aspects of the
struggle analyzed insightfully by Zhao that are ignored by Jaivin--what
Zhao calls "campus ecology" (the physical structures and social patterns
of student life) for instance. His treatment of the way this shaped 1989
is excellent, yet the topic falls outside the scope of Jaivin's
interests.

The two authors also treat previous studies very differently. Take
sociologist Craig Calhoun's justly acclaimed 1994 study Neither Gods
Nor Emperors
. Zhao cites it several times (sometimes approvingly,
sometimes to criticize Calhoun for making too much of 1989's links to
pre-1949 events and patterns); Jaivin never mentions it. On the other
hand, she draws heavily on works by Geremie Barmé, a leading
Australian China specialist whom Zhao never cites. Jaivin's reliance on
Barmé is no surprise: The two co-edited a superb
Tiananmen-related document collection, New Ghosts, Old Dreams,
were married for a time (Monkey includes a diverting account of
their courtship) and remain close friends. What is surprising is that
none of Barmé's writings are listed in Zhao's bibliography. This
wouldn't matter except that some specialists (myself included) think him
among the most consistently insightful and on-target analysts of Chinese
culture and politics.

Switching from references to events, we again find divergences. For
example, only Jaivin refers to the 1988 campus riots in which young
African men were attacked. In these incidents, some male Chinese
students--of the same Tiananmen generation that would soon do such
admirable things--lashed out against African males whose freer
lifestyles they envied. The rioters also expressed outrage at efforts by
the black exchange students to establish sexual liaisons with Chinese
women. That only Jaivin mentions these racist incidents is illustrative
of a general pattern. Zhao criticizes the Tiananmen generation for
strategic mistakes, factionalism and political immaturity but otherwise
veers toward hagiography. Jaivin takes a warts-and-all approach to her
heroes. Hou gets chided for egotism and sexism, and the students for
their tendency to be elitist (toward workers) and antiforeign (on
occasion even toward Westerners).

Surprisingly, given Jaivin's greater fascination with pop culture, among
the many events that she ignores but that Zhao mentions is the Jan and
Dean concert fracas. I was glad to see Zhao allude to this November 1986
event (few analysts of 1989 have), but found his comments problematic.
He states that demonstrations began in Shanghai "as a protest against
the arrest and beating of students after many students danced on the
stage" with the surf-rock band. Soon, the movement's focus shifted to
"democracy and other issues," Zhao continues, when news arrived of
campus unrest in Hefei (where Fang Lizhi taught). The protests there
were triggered by complaints about cafeteria food and manipulated local
elections. This is accurate but leaves out a significant twist: The buzz
around Shanghai campuses had a class-related dimension. Students
complained that concert security guards had treated their classmates
like mere "workers," not intellectuals-in-the-making, the flower of
China's youth. And while this sort of elitism was tempered a bit during
the 1989 mass movement, it never disappeared.

In the end, though, where Jaivin and Zhao really part company has to do
with something more basic than choices about whom to cite or even how
critical to be of activists. It comes from the fact that only one
(Jaivin) leaves space for magic. Zhao is influenced by a recent (and
welcome) development in social movement theory: a commitment to paying
more attention to emotion. And yet, in his hands, this emotional turn
amounts to only a minor shift in emphasis. It is as though, to him, a
sense of disgust or feelings of pride can be factored into existing
equations quite easily, without disrupting a basic approach that relies
heavily on assessing structural variables, the sway of formal ideologies
and rational calculations of risk.

In Jaivin's book, magic--of varying sorts--figures centrally. Even the
book's title is a nod toward the magical, since the "Monkey" in it
refers to the most famous trickster character in Chinese culture, the
mischief-loving hero of the novel Journey From the West, with
whom Hou apparently identifies. A major characteristic of Monkey (in the
novel) and Hou (in Jaivin's biography) is an ability to transform
himself and contribute to the transformation of others--something often
associated with spells of enchantment.

When it comes to the magical aspects of Tiananmen, Jaivin stresses the
"magnetic pull" (Barmé's term) that the square exerted. And she
emphasizes that the 1989 movement was full of unexpected developments
that perplexed even those who knew Chinese politics intimately. In
addition, she gives a good sense of how often people did peculiar,
seemingly contradictory things. For example, she writes that Hou was
convinced by late May that the students should leave the square before
the regime cleared it by force. Only by living on could they build on
what they had accomplished and continue to work to change China, he
felt, as did many others. And yet, Hou flew to Hong Kong, even though he
knew the funds raised by the concert there would help the students
extend their occupation of the square. He could never explain why he did
this, and I doubt any "model" can do justice to his choice. Moreover,
Hou was not the only one to find himself doing inexplicable things as
magic moments followed one another at a dizzying speed that spring.

Those who know little about Tiananmen can learn more from Zhao than from
Jaivin (even if they find her more fun to read). And specialists will
come away from his book with more new data. In the end, though, I think
Jaivin gets closer to the heart of 1989. I say this in part because I
agree with her on several points (the role of nationalism, for example).
But my main reason for preferring her book is my conviction that with
Tiananmen--and perhaps many mass movements--you have to take seriously
not just structures and calculations of interest but also passion and
magic.

A specter is haunting the Jews of Europe: the specter of anti-Semitism.
A synagogue is firebombed in Belgium; three more are burned in France,
where Jean-Marie Le Pen's National Front attracts millions of votes. In
the town of l'Union, near Toulouse, a man opens fire at a kosher butcher
shop, and in Berlin the police advise Jews not to dress in a conspicuous
manner. Here in Britain two Orthodox Jews were attacked outside Harrods
in broad daylight, and a synagogue in North London was desecrated only a
few weeks ago. Britain's broadsheet newspapers agonized over whether the
French ambassador's reference to Israel as a "shitty little country" was
anti-Semitic or just anti-Israel, and Rupert Murdoch's Sun, a
tabloid more famed for its topless page 3 "stunners" than for its high
moral tone, ran a full-page editorial assuring readers, "The Jewish
faith is not an evil religion." In Europe, argues Washington Post
columnist Charles Krauthammer, "it is not safe to be a Jew."

Something is happening. I've had more conversations about anti-Semitism
here in the past six months than in the previous six years. Last autumn,
after listening patiently while a friend wondered whether American
support for Israel wasn't in some sense to blame for September 11, and
seeing a writer who'd never expressed an opinion on the Middle East
denounced as a "Zionist," I organized a panel on anti-Semitism and the
press at London's Jewish Book Week. So if I say that Americans
who argue it is time for Europe's Jews to pack their bags are either
fools or rogues, it isn't because I'm looking at the situation with my
head in the sand. When I went to synagogue in Florence with my older son
on the last day of Passover this year, I was glad to see the Italian
soldier standing guard at the door.

But the big danger in Florence that week was to Americans, who were
warned by the State Department to stay away from public places. More
Jews died in the World Trade Center than in all of Europe's anti-Semitic
outrages of the past two decades put together. What's missing from the
current furor over European anti-Semitism is any recognition that the
whole world is now a dangerous place--and not just for Jews.

Some historical perspective might also be nice. It was widely reported
here that Asher Cohn, rabbi of the vandalized synagogue, is himself the
son of a rabbi who fled Germany after his synagogue was torched on
Kristallnacht--the kind of coincidence journalists find
irresistible. But the damage to Cohn's synagogue was repaired within
days--by volunteers who included a Labour Cabinet minister and a member
of the Conservative shadow Cabinet. The rise of Austria's Jörg
Haider and the murdered Dutch maverick Pim Fortuyn are often depicted as
heralds of a fascist revival. Haider is an anti-Semite, whose talent for
racist double-entendre prompted Austrian journalist Eva Menasse to
wonder why the foot in Haider's mouth always seems to be wearing a
jackboot. Yet overt anti-Semitism has no place in either Freedom Party
propaganda or in the program of the Austrian government. Hitler had a
militarized state, a genocidal ideology and open contempt for democratic
norms--a combination not found anywhere in the current European
political landscape.

What Europe has instead is xenophobia. Since September 11 a wave of
hostility to foreigners has swept over the Continent. Some of this has
come out as anti-Semitism, particularly on the neanderthal right in
Germany and among the marginal but mediagenic British National Party.
Knee-jerk anti-Americanism has also seen a revival: in Greece, where
left- and right-wing nationalists momentarily united in stressing US
culpability after the World Trade Center bombings, and on the wilder
shores of British and French Trotskyism. But the primary target of
xenophobic rhetoric and xenophobic violence has been Europe's Arab and
Muslim inhabitants. Fortuyn labeled Islam a "backward" religion and
campaigned on a platform opposing Muslim immigration. (Fortuyn also came
up with a new variation on the "some of my best friends" defense,
assuring a Dutch television interviewer he had "nothing against
Moroccans; after all, I've been to bed with so many of them!") The
British government has resisted calls to broaden laws against incitement
to racial hatred, which currently protect Jews (as an ethnic group) but
exclude Muslims. Yet Richard Stone, who serves both as chair of
Britain's Jewish Council on Racial Equality and chair of the Commission
on British Muslims and Islamophobia, is in no doubt: "There is much more
anti-Muslim than anti-Jewish prejudice in this country." When Italian
Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi proclaimed the superiority of "our
civilization," he didn't mean superior to Jews. From isolated incidents
in Denmark and Ireland to Holland, where a mosque has been burned, to
Germany and France, where a steady stream of anti-Islamic violence has
swelled to a flood, Europe has become a great deal less safe for
Muslims.

The fact that conditions are worse for Europe's Muslims--particularly in
those countries where they have not been allowed to become
citizens--does not, of course, mean that Jews should remain silent when
we are attacked or even offended, just that we should retain a sense of
proportion. The British Crime Survey, for instance, counts well over
100,000 racist incidents in each of the past three years. The number of
racial incidents actually reported to the police, a much lower figure,
has risen from 23,049 in 1999 to 53,842 in 2001. During this same period
the number of anti-Semitic incidents reported--a category that includes
anti-Semitic leafleting and verbal harassment as well as violence
against persons or property--went from 270 in 1999 to 405 in 2000 to 310
in 2001. As of May 22 the total for this year was only 126--hardly
indicative of Cossacks riding through Hampstead.

Yet one of the most striking things about the panic supposedly stalking
Europe's Jews is how much that panic seems to be centered in Britain--a
country where Jews are a very small (about 250,000 out of a population
of 59 million) and very well-established minority. "What has been
challenged is our comfort of having a foot in both worlds," Jo Wagerman,
president of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, told the Israeli
paper Ha'aretz. The 240-year-old board is probably the oldest
Jewish lobby in the world; Wagerman, whose own family came to Britain
under Oliver Cromwell, is the group's first woman president. In the
years after World War II, she said, British Jews enjoyed "a kind of
golden age...[but] recently, Britain isn't the same." Melanie Phillips,
a columnist for the right-wing Daily Mail, who was heckled by a
BBC studio audience for claiming that Israel was a democracy, wrote that
"the visceral hostility toward Israel and Jews displayed...by the
audience is representative now of much mainstream British opinion."

The connections between events in the Middle East and in Europe are
complex, fraught with the potential for misunderstanding and
manipulation. Only the statistics are straightforward. In London, says
Metropolitan Police spokeswoman Miriam Rich, anti-Semitic incidents went
"up in April because of what happened in Jenin, and are down again in
May. Each month is a direct reflection of what is happening in the
Middle East." If you plot the national figures on a graph, says Michael
Whine of the Community Security Trust, "and superimpose them with
another of incidents in the Middle East, you see one following the
other." The same correlation can be seen in France, where, unlike
Britain, a growing proportion of the attackers come from that country's
disaffected and marginalized Arab minority.

To Jews, such incidents may feed a sense that the whole world is against
us. The tendency--understandable if not justifiable--to let any act of
violence against Jews on European soil conjure up images of the
Holocaust also inhibits clear thinking. Anthony Julius, the lawyer who
acted for Deborah Lipstadt against David Irving, and a scholar of
British and European anti-Semitism, ridicules the "diaspora narcissism"
that leads British Jews to exaggerate their difficulties. And while
Julius is careful to distinguish between anti-Semitism and criticism of
Israel, not all of Israel's friends are so scrupulous.

Indeed, it is hard to avoid the suspicion that many of those shouting
loudest about the danger in Europe care more about retaining occupied
Palestinian land than about the welfare of diaspora Jews. The BBC, the
Guardian and the Independent--all news organizations with
a clear editorial commitment to Israel's right to exist--are continually
fending off accusations of anti-Semitism for simply reporting the
day-to-day dehumanization inflicted on Palestinians. Whether the French
ambassador's remark was a crime or a blunder, by making it at the home
of Barbara Amiel, wife of Daily Telegraph (and Jerusalem
Post
) owner Conrad Black, and herself a staunch defender of Ariel
Sharon, he put a weapon in the hands of those who argue, with Amiel,
that "super-liberalism led to suicide bombers and intifadas in Israel."

Sometimes anti-Zionism really is a cover for anti-Semitism, and we on
the left need to be clearer about that. Jews who view Israel's existence
as the necessary fulfillment of their national (as opposed to civil)
rights have grounds to be suspicious of those who grant Palestinian
national aspirations a legitimacy they withhold from Jews. Most of the
time, though, the line is pretty clear, and Jews of all people should be
wary of using a double standard as a bludgeon. Or conjuring up specters
in the cause of ethnic unity. If it is racist to suggest, as the New
Statesman
did recently, that "a Kosher conspiracy" inhibits
criticism of Israel, then what are we to make of former Israeli Prime
Minister Ehud Barak's claim (in the New York Review of Books,
reprinted here in the Guardian) that Palestinians "are products
of a culture in which...truth is seen as an irrelevant category"? The
non-Zionist world has every reason to resent it when the moral odium of
anti-Semitism is used to discredit those who object to the brutality of
Israeli occupation, or when the tattered mantle of Jewish victimization
is draped over policies of collective punishment and murderous reprisal
that, as the Israeli press was quick to point out, are modeled on the
tactics used to crush Jewish resistance in the Warsaw ghetto. If more
Jews expressed outrage at these policies, and at the way our tragic
history is demeaned by being used as a gag, we would be in a stronger
position to demand not sympathy but solidarity.

Gangbangers with dirty bombs! Now we're talking. The big news about the
latest suspected terror bomber is not that he now calls himself Al
Muhajir but that he was formerly José Padilla, a Puerto Rican
raised in Chicago. Padilla became a son of militant Islam in the
slammer, same way thousands of other young denizens of our gulag do.

In the normal order of business, suspected gangbangers don't have much
purchase on the Bill of Rights. Their rights of assembly and protection
against unreasonable search and seizure were curtailed long since.
Padilla's current status could foreshadow a trend. Pending challenge in
the courts, he's classed as an "enemy combatant" and locked up in a Navy
brig in Charleston, with no rights at all.

Tuesday, June 11, all the way from Moscow, Attorney General Ashcroft
fostered the impression that Padilla/Muhajir had been foiled pretty much
in the act of planting radioactive material taped to TNT in the basement
of the Sears Tower or some kindred monument of Chicago. "US: 'Dirty
Bomb' Plot Foiled," exulted USA Today.

Next day came a modified climb-down. "Threat of 'Dirty Bomb' Softened"
muttered USA Today's front-page headline. It turned out Muhajir
had ten grand in cash and maybe big dreams but nothing in the way of
radioactive dirt or even TNT. Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz
told the press, "I don't think there was actually a plot beyond some
fairly loose talk." He should know.

But at least we're now sensitized to the "dirty bomb" menace. It seems
that ten pounds of TNT, wrapped around a "pea-size" piece of cesium-137
from a medical gauge, would give anyone within five blocks downwind a
one in a thousand chance of getting cancer. We should be worried about
this? I'd say it should come pretty low on the list of Major Concerns.
Suppose Al Qaeda were to plan something really nasty, like shipping
spent nuclear fuel by rail from every quarter of the United States to a
fissured mountain in Nevada not that far from one of America's prime
tourist destinations. That's the Bush plan, of course.

What a gift to the forces of darkness the War on Terror is turning out
to be, as a subject-changer from the normal terrorism inflicted by the
state. Right now, across the United States, the final cutoffs for people
on welfare are looming. The guillotine blade ratcheted into position by
Clinton's 1996 welfare reform is plummeting.

Take Oregon. It has a terrible recession, the worst unemployment rate in
the country and the largest deficit in the state's history. Back in
1979, according to the Oregon Center for Public Policy, 39 percent of
poor Oregonians were getting public assistance. These days it's under 10
percent. Does that mean the previously destitute are now in regular
jobs? No. It just means you have to be a lot poorer to get any sort of
handout. It means the usual story: exhausted mothers scrabbling for
petty cash, doing occasional starvation-wage work. Over the first
fourteen months of the current recession, the combined number of
unemployed in eight Oregon counties grew by 92 percent. At the same
time, the number of welfare cases went down by 16 percent.

This is the Terrorism of Everyday Life, at the most elemental level,
aimed at the weakest in our midst: no money for food, for shelter, for
the kids, and a President who actually wants to stiffen the work
requirements. Thus do we nourish the next generation of Enemy Combatants
on the home front.

Dershowitz: Baby Slaughter Plan Flawed

Nathan Lewin, a prominent DC attorney often tipped for a federal
judgeship and legal adviser to several Orthodox organizations, has told
the Forward, as reported there on June 7, that the families of
Palestinian suicide bombers should be executed, arguing that such a
policy would offer the necessary deterrent against such attacks.

According to the Forward, Alan Dershowitz and Abraham Foxman,
national director of the Anti-Defamation League, argue that Lewin's
proposal represents a legitimate attempt to forge a policy for stopping
terrorism. Foxman refused to take a stand on the actual proposal,
instead deferring to Jerusalem on Israeli security issues. Exhibiting
his habitual moral refinement, Dershowitz--also an advocate of
judge-sanctioned torture here in the United States--argues that the same
level of deterrence could be achieved by leveling the villages of
suicide bombers.

Lewin cites the biblical destruction of the tribe of Amalek as a
precedent for measures deemed "ordinarily unacceptable." Those who
consult the first book of Samuel will find the Amalekite incident
vividly described. First, the divine injunction: "Thus saith the Lord of
hosts.... Now go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they
have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and
suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass."

King Saul hastens to obey. "And Saul smote the Amalekites...and utterly
destroyed all the people with the edge of the sword." But Saul spares
Agag, king of the Amalekites, "and the best of the sheep, and of the
oxen, and of the fatlings, and the lambs." Even though the animals were
scheduled for sacrifice to Him, God is furious at the breach of orders
and prompts the prophet Samuel to berate Saul: "To obey is better than
sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the
sin of witchcraft....

"Then said Samuel, Bring ye hither to me Agag the king of the
Amalekites. And Agag came unto him delicately. And Agag said, Surely the
bitterness of death is past. And Samuel said, As the sword hath made
women childless, so shall thy mother be childless among women. And
Samuel hewed Agag in pieces before the Lord in Gilgal."

Now that's what I call getting back to fundamentals!

The FBI has come under harsh criticism in recent weeks for its failure
to act on information that might have enabled it to thwart the September
11 attacks. Rather than deny the criticism, FBI Director Robert Mueller
has embraced it (easy for him to do, since he didn't start on the job
until September 4) and then exploited it to argue that the bureau needs
more power, more resources and fewer restrictions.

Both the criticism and the remedy are misguided. The dots that everyone
now says should have been connected consist of a few leads spread over a
three-year period: a 1998 memo from an FBI agent in Oklahoma suspicious
about some Middle Eastern men taking flying lessons; a July 2001 memo
from a Phoenix agent speculating that Osama bin Laden could be sending
terrorists to flight schools here; and the August 2001 arrest of
Zacarias Moussaoui for acting suspiciously in flight school. Viewed in
hindsight, each points inexorably to September 11. But there is a world
of difference, as any gambler, stock trader or palm reader will tell
you, between perceiving the connections after and before the fact. On
September 10 these three bits of information competed for the FBI's
attention with thousands of other memos, leads and suspicious events
pointing in thousands of other directions. We are engaged in a
nationwide session of Monday-morning quarterbacking.

The remedy is worse. Shifting resources to fighting terrorist threats
makes sense, but freeing the FBI from the minimal restrictions it has
operated under in the past does not. The guidelines governing the FBI's
domestic criminal investigations, which do not even apply to
international terrorism investigations, had nothing to do with the FBI
missing the September 11 plot. And it is likely that the changes in the
guidelines announced by Attorney General John Ashcroft will actually
reduce the FBI's effectiveness in fighting terrorism.

The old guidelines were sparked by revelations that in the 1960s and
'70s, the FBI's COINTELPRO initiative targeted perfectly lawful antiwar,
environmental, feminist and civil rights groups for widespread
monitoring, infiltration and disinformation. The guidelines sought to
remedy the FBI's proclivity for indulging in guilt by association and
conducting intrusive and sweeping investigations of political groups
without any criminal basis. They sought to focus the FBI on its mission,
which, contrary to popular perception, has always been to prevent as
well as to investigate crime.

But even under the guidelines abuses continued. One of the most
prominent involved an investigation of the Committee in Solidarity With
the People of El Salvador (CISPES) from 1983 to 1985. Under the rubric
of counterterrorism, the FBI monitored student rallies, infiltrated
meetings and identified attendees at CISPES events. In the end, the
bureau had collected information on 1,330 groups--including Oxfam
America, the US Catholic Conference and a Cincinnati order of nuns--but
no evidence of crime.

Such investigations are likely to be commonplace in the post-
September 11 era. Ashcroft's guidelines expressly permit the FBI to
conduct some investigations without even a shred of information about
potential criminal conduct. And Congress has so expanded the definition
of federal crimes that requiring a criminal basis is not enough to
forestall political spying. Federal antiterrorism laws of 1996 and 2001
now make it a crime to provide any associational support to foreign
groups we designate as terrorist, even if the support has no connection
whatever to terrorist activity. Under those laws, the CISPES
investigation would have been legal, on suspicion that CISPES was
supporting the Salvadoran rebel movement.

The combined effect of the expanded statute, loosened guidelines and
increased counterterrorism personnel at the FBI will be to bring in
exponentially more information about the populace than the FBI has ever
had. Some of the additional information obtained may, like the isolated
leads developed before September 11, be related to terrorist plots. But
those leads are almost certain to be drowned out by the barrage of
information about innocent political activity.

An intelligence expert on a recent panel with me claimed that what we
need now is "all-source intelligence fusion," meaning a group of
analysts sitting in a room analyzing mounds of data for trends and
patterns. Despite its techno-trendy title, all-source intelligence
fusion is no substitute for good relations with the affected
communities. If the FBI has information that the threat is likely to
stem from Arab sources, it should be building bridges to the millions of
law-abiding Arabs--instead of profiling Arab students without cause,
holding Middle Easterners without charges and selectively registering
all immigrants from Arab countries. You don't build bridges by
infiltrating and monitoring legitimate political and religious activity.

Let's say I'm a Jehovah's Witness, and I get a job in an understaffed
emergency room where, following the dictates of my conscience, I refuse
to assist with blood transfusions and try my best to persuade my fellow
workers to do the same. How long do you think I'd last on the job? And
after my inevitable firing, how seriously do you think a jury would take
my claim that my rights had been violated? Five minutes and not very,
right? A similar fate would surely await the surgeon who converts to
Christian Science and decides to pray over his patients instead of
operating on them, the Muslim loan officer who refuses to charge
interest, the Southern Baptist psychotherapist who tells his Jewish
patients they're bound for hell. The law rightly requires employers to
respect employees' sincerely held religious beliefs, but not if those
beliefs really do prevent an employee from performing the job for which
she's been hired.

Change the subject to reproductive rights, though, and the picture gets
decidedly strange. In 1999 Michelle Diaz, a born-again Christian nurse
who had recently been hired by the Riverside Neighborhood Health Center,
a public clinic in Southern California, decided that emergency
contraception, the so-called morning after pill that acts to prevent
pregnancy if taken within seventy-two hours of unprotected intercourse,
was actually a method of abortion. She refused to dispense it or give
referrals to other providers; the clinic offered her a position that did
not involve reproductive healthcare, but when she told temporary nurses
at the clinic that they too would be performing abortions by dispensing
EC, Diaz, who was still on probation as a new hire, lost her job. She
sued with the help of the American Center for Law and Justice (ACLJ),
the religious-right law firm headed by Jay Sekulow. At the end of May a
jury agreed that her rights had been violated and awarded her $47,000.

Excuse me? A nurse at a public health clinic has the right to refuse to
provide patients with legally mandated services, give out misleading
health information in order to proselytize her co-workers to refuse as
well, and keep her job? The low-income women who come to Riverside
desperately in need of EC and abortion referrals are flat out of luck if
they happen to turn up when the anti-choicers are on shift? Riverside is
the largest public health clinic in the county, serving 150-200 patients
a day, but it operates with a staff of four nurses--should those four
people decide what services the clinic can offer? What about the
patient's right to receive standard medical care? Or the clinic's
responsibility to deliver the services for which they receive government
funds?

Some states, California among them, have "conscience laws," permitting
anti-choice healthworkers to refuse to be involved in abortions. EC,
however, is just a high dose of regular birth control pills that
prevents ovulation and implantation. It is not abortion, because until a
fertilized egg implants in the womb, the woman is not pregnant. A long
list of medical authorities--the American Medical Association, the
American Medical Women's Association, the American College of
Obstetricians and Gynecologists and Harvard Medical School--agree that
EC is not an abortifacient, and a 1989 California court decision itself
distinguishes abortion from EC. There are lots of mysteries about the
Diaz case, ranging from why Diaz took a job she knew involved practices
she found immoral in the first place, to how the jury could possibly
have come up with a decision so contrary to law and public policy. Did
Diaz take the job with the express intention of disrupting services? Was
the jury anti-choice? Interestingly, the jury pool was partly drawn from
San Bernardino County, which last year unsuccessfully tried to bar its
public health clinics from dispensing EC.

Whatever the jury's thinking, the Diaz case represents the latest of
numerous attempts by the anti-choice movement to equate EC with abortion
and move it out of normal medical practice. Pharmacists for Life
International, a worldwide organization that claims to have some 1,500
members, calls it "chemical abortion" and urges pharmacists to refuse to
dispense it. The ACLJ is currently litigating on behalf of one who did.
Wal-Mart refuses to stock it at all. Anti-choicers in Britain made an
unsuccessful attempt to prevent EC from being dispensed over the counter
by placing it under an archaic law that prohibits "procuring a
miscarriage." Some anti-choicers have long argued that not just EC but
conventional birth-control methods--the pill, Norplant, Depo-Provera and
the IUD--are "abortifacients": In northern Kentucky anti-choice
extremists are campaigning to force one local health board to reject
Title X family-planning funds; according to the Lexington
Herald-Leader, the board's vote, scheduled for June 19, is too
close to call.

Although secular employers are expected to make reasonable
accommodations to religious employees--or even, if the Diaz verdict is
upheld, unreasonable ones--religious employers are not required to
return the favor. On the contrary, the Supreme Court, in The Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints v. Amos
, permits them to use
religious tests to hire and fire personnel as far from the sacred
mission as janitorial workers; if a Methodist church wants to refuse to
hire a Muslim security guard, it has the blessing of the Constitution to
do so. As often noted in this column, religious organizations can and do
fire employees who violate religious precepts on and even off the job. A
pro-choice nurse could not get a job at a Catholic hospital and declare
that her conscience required her to go against policy and hand out EC to
rape victims, or even tell them where to obtain it--even though medical
ethics oblige those who refuse to provide standard services for moral
reasons to give referrals, and even though Catholic hospitals typically
get about half of their revenue from the government.

According to the ACLJ, however, secular institutions should be sitting
ducks for any fanatic who can get hired even provisionally. The
Riverside clinic has asked the judge to set aside the Diaz verdict. If
that bid is unsuccessful, it will appeal. I'll let you know what
happens.

Unions are gradually making fuller use of the Internet's capacities to
improve communication with their own staffs or members. But increasingly
they are also using the web to recruit new members or to establish
"virtual communities" of union supporters in arenas not yet amenable to
the standard collective-bargaining model.

Alliance@IBM (www.allianceibm.org) is an example of an effective
Net-supported minority union, operating without a demonstrated pro-union
majority and without a collective-bargaining contract at a traditional
nonunion company. The alliance provides information and advice to
workers at IBM through the web. A similar effort at a partially
organized employer is WAGE ("Workers at GE," www.geworkersunited.org), which draws on contributions from fourteen cooperating
international unions. The Microsoft-inflected WashTech
(www.washtech.org) and the Australian IT Workers Alliance
(www.itworkers-alliance.org) are open-source unions that are closer to
craft unions or occupational associations. Both are responsive to the
distinctive professional needs of these workers, such as access to a
variety of job experiences and additional formal education, and the
portability of high-level benefits when changing jobs.

The National Writers Union (www.nwu.org), a UAW affiliate, is another
example of a union virtually created off the Net. It provides
information and advice--including extensive job postings--to members,
and it lobbies on their behalf, most spectacularly in the recent Supreme
Court decision it won on freelance worker copyright rights. But most of
its members work without a collectively bargained contract.

In Britain, UNISON (the largest union in the country) and the National
Union of Students have a website that tells student workers their rights
and gives them advice about how to deal with workplace problems
(www.troubleatwork.org.uk). It is a particularly engaging and practical
illustration of how concrete problems can be addressed through Net
assistance.

Finally, for a more geographically defined labor community, take a look
at the website of the King County AFL-CIO (www.kclc.org), the Seattle
central labor council that uses the Net to coordinate its own business,
bring community and labor groups together for discussion and common
action, post messages and general information to the broader community,
and otherwise create a "virtual" union hall with much of the spirit and
dense activity that used to be common in actual union halls in major
cities.

The SAT has been on the ropes lately. The University of California
system has threatened to quit using the test for its freshman
admissions, arguing that the exam has done more harm than good. The
State of Texas, responding to a federal court order prohibiting its
affirmative action efforts, has already significantly curtailed the
importance of the SAT as a gatekeeper to its campuses. Even usually
stodgy corporate types have started to beat up on the SAT. Last year,
for example, a prominent group of corporate leaders joined the National
Urban League in calling upon college and university presidents to quit
placing so much stock in standardized admissions tests like the SAT,
which they said were "inadequate and unreliable" gatekeepers to college.

Then again, if the SAT is anything, it's a survivor. The SAT
enterprise--consisting of its owner and sponsor, the College Board, and
the test's maker and distributor, the Educational Testing Service--has
gamely reinvented itself over the years in myriad superficial ways,
hedging against the occasional dust-up of bad public relations. The SAT,
for example, has undergone name changes over the years in an effort to
reflect the democratization of higher education in America and
consequent changes in our collective notions about equal opportunity.
But through it all, the SAT's underlying social function--as a sorting
device for entry into or, more likely, maintenance of American
elitehood--has remained ingeniously intact, a firmly rooted icon of
American notions about meritocracy.

Indeed, the one intangible characteristic of the SAT and other
admissions tests that the College Board would never want to change is
the virtual equation, in the public's mind, of test scores and academic
talent. Like the tobacco companies, ETS and the College Board (both are
legally nonprofit organizations that in many respects resemble
profit-making enterprises) put a cautionary label on the product.
Regarding their SAT, the organizations are obliged by professional codes
of proper test practices to inform users of standardized admissions
tests that the exams can be "useful" predictors of later success in
college, medical school or graduate school, when used in conjunction
with other factors, such as grades.

But the true place of admissions testing in America isn't always so
appropriate. Most clear-eyed Americans know that results on the SAT,
Graduate Record Exam or the Medical College Admission Test are widely viewed as synonymous with academic talent in higher education. Whether it's true or not--and there's lots of evidence that it's not--is quite beside the point.

Given the inordinate weight that test scores play in the American
version of meritocracy, it's no surprise that federal courts have been
hearing lawsuits from white, middle-class law school applicants
complaining they were denied admission to law school even though their
LSAT scores were fifty points greater than a minority applicant who was
admitted; why neoconservative doomsayers warn that the academic quality
of America's great universities will plummet if the hordes of unwashed
(read: low test scores) are allowed entry; why articles are written
under titles like "Backdoor Affirmative Action," arguing that
de-emphasizing test scores in Texas and California is merely a covert
tactic of public universities to beef up minority enrollments in
response to court bans on affirmative action.

Indeed, Rebecca Zwick, a professor of education at the University of
California, Santa Barbara, and a former researcher at the Educational
Testing Service, wrote that "Backdoor Affirmative Action" article for
Education Week in 1999, implying that do-gooders who place less
emphasis on test scores in order to raise minority enrollments are
simply blaming the messenger. And so it should not be surprising that
the same author would provide an energetic defense of the SAT and
similar exams in her new book, Fair Game? The Use of Standardized
Admissions Tests in Higher Education.

Those, like Zwick, who are wedded to the belief that test scores are
synonymous with academic merit will like this concise book. They will
praise its 189 pages of text as, finally, a fair and balanced
demystification of the esoteric world of standardized testing. Zwick and
her publisher are positioning the book as the steady, guiding hand
occupying the sensible middle ground in an emotional debate that they
claim is dominated by journalists and other uninformed critics who don't
understand the complex subject of standardized testing. "All too
often...discussions of testing rely more on politics or emotion than on
fact," Zwick says in her preface. "This book was written with the aim of
equipping contestants in the inevitable public debates with some solid
information about testing."

If only it were true. Far from reflecting the balanced approach the
author claims, the book is thinly disguised advocacy for the status quo
and a defense of the hegemony of gatekeeping exams for college and
university admissions. It could be more accurately titled (without the
bothersome question mark) "Fair Game: Why America Needs the SAT."

As it stands, the research staff of the College Board and the
Educational Testing Service, Zwick's former employer, might as well have
written this book, as she trots out all the standard arguments those organizations have used for years to show why healthy doses of standardized testing are really good for American education. At almost every opportunity, Zwick quotes an ETS or College Board study in the most favorable light, couching it as the final word on a particular issue, while casting aspersion on
other studies and researchers (whose livelihoods don't depend on selling
tests) that might well draw different conclusions. Too often Zwick
provides readers who might be unfamiliar with the research about testing
with an overly simplistic and superficial treatment. At worst, she
leaves readers with grossly misleading impressions.

After providing a quick and dirty account of IQ testing at the turn of
the last century, a history that included the rabidly eugenic beliefs of
many of the early testmakers and advocates in Britain and the United
States ("as test critics like to point out," Zwick sneers), the author
introduces readers to one of the central ideologies of mental testing to
sort a society's young for opportunities for higher education. Sure,
mental testing has brought some embarrassing moments in history that we
moderns frown on nowadays, but the testing movement has had its good
guys too. Rather than being a tool to promote and protect the interests
of a society's most privileged citizens, the cold objectivity of
standardized testing remains an important goal for exercise of
democratic values.

According to this belief, standardized testing for admission to college
serves the interest of meritocracy, in which people are allowed to shine
by their wits, not their social connections. That same ideology, says
Zwick, drove former Harvard president James Bryant Conant, whom Zwick
describes as a "staunch supporter of equal opportunity," in his quest to
establish a single entrance exam, the SAT, for all colleges. Conant, of
course, would become the first chairman of the board of the newly formed
Educational Testing Service. But, as Nicholas Lemann writes in his 1999
book The Big Test: The Secret History of the American
Meritocracy
, Conant wasn't nearly so interested in widening
opportunity to higher education as Zwick might think. Conant was keen on
expanding opportunity, but, as Lemann says, only for "members of a tiny
cohort of intellectually gifted men." Disillusioned only with the form
of elitism that had taken shape at Harvard and other Ivy League
colleges, which allotted opportunities based on wealth and parentage,
Conant was nevertheless a staunch elitist, an admirer of the
Jeffersonian ideal of a "natural aristocracy." In Conant's perfect
world, access to this new kind of elitehood would be apportioned not by
birthright but by performance on aptitude tests. Hence the SAT, Lemann
writes, "would finally make possible the creation of a natural
aristocracy."

The longstanding belief that high-stakes mental tests are the great
equalizer of society is dubious at best, and at worst a clever piece of
propaganda that has well served the interests of American elites. In
fact, Alfred Binet himself--among the fathers of IQ testing, who would
invent the first version of the Stanford-Binet intelligence test, the
precursor to the modern SAT--observed the powerful relationship between
one's performance on his so-called intelligence test and a child's
social class, a phenomenon Binet described in his 1916 book The
Development of Intelligence in Children.

And it's the same old story with the SAT. Look at the college-bound high
school seniors of 2001 who took the SAT, and the odds are still firmly
stacked against young people of modest economic backgrounds' beating the
SAT odds. A test-taker whose parents did not complete high school can
expect to score fully 171 points below the SAT average, College Board
figures show. On the other hand, high schoolers whose moms and dads have
graduate degrees can expect to outperform the SAT average by 106 points.

What's more, the gaps in SAT performance between whites and blacks and
between whites and Mexican-Americans have only ballooned in the past ten
years. The gap between white and black test-takers widened five points
and eleven points on the SAT verbal and math sections, respectively,
between 1991 and 2001. SAT score gaps between whites and
Mexican-Americans surged a total of thirty-three points during that same
period.

For critics of the national testing culture, such facts are troubling
indeed, suggestive of a large web of inequity that permeates society and
the educational opportunities distributed neatly along class and race
lines, from preschool through medical school. But for Zwick, the notion
of fairness when applied to standardized admissions tests boils down to
a relatively obscure but standard procedure in her field of
"psychometrics," which is in part the study of the statistical
properties of standardized tests.

Mere differences in average test scores between most minority groups and
whites or among social classes isn't all that interesting to Zwick. More
interesting, she maintains, is the comparative accuracy of test scores
in predicting university grades between whites and other racial groups.
In this light, she says, the SAT and most standardized admissions tests
are not biased against blacks, Latinos or Native Americans. In fact, she
says, drawing on 1985 data from a College Board study that looked at
forty-five colleges, those minority groups earned lower grades in
college than predicted by their SAT scores--a classic case of
"overprediction" that substantiates the College Board claim that the SAT
is more than fair to American minorities. By contrast, if the SAT is
unfair to any group, it's unfair to whites and Asian-Americans, because
they get slightly better college grades than the SAT would predict,
Zwick suggests.

Then there's the odd circumstance when it comes to standardized
admissions tests and women. A number of large studies of women and
testing at the University of California, Berkeley, the University of
Michigan and other institutions have consistently shown that while women
(on average) don't perform as well on standardized tests as male
test-takers do, women do better than men in actual classroom work.
Indeed, Zwick acknowledges that standardized tests, unlike for most
minority groups, tend to "underpredict" the actual academic performance
of women.

But on this question, as with so many others in her book, Zwick's
presentation is thin, more textbookish than the thorough examination and
analysis her more demanding readers would expect. Zwick glosses over a
whole literature on how the choice of test format, such as
multiple-choice versus essay examinations, rewards some types of
cognitive approaches and punishes others. For example, there's evidence
to suggest that SAT-type tests dominated by multiple-choice formats
reward speed, risk-taking and other surface-level "gaming" strategies
that may be more characteristic of males than of females. Women and
girls may tend to approach problems somewhat more carefully, slowly and
thoroughly--cognitive traits that serve them well in the real world of
classrooms and work--but hinder their standardized test performance
compared with that of males.

Beyond Zwick's question of whether the SAT and other admissions tests
are biased against women or people of color is the perhaps more basic
question of whether these tests are worthwhile predictors of academic
performance for all students. Indeed, the ETS and the College Board sell
the SAT on the rather narrow promise that it helps colleges predict
freshman grades, period. On this issue, Zwick's presentation is not a
little pedantic, seeming to paint anyone who doesn't claim to be a
psychometrician as a statistical babe in the woods. Zwick quotes the
results of a College Board study published in 1994 finding that one's
SAT score by itself accounts for about 13 percent of the differences in
freshman grades; that one's high school grade average is a slightly
better predictor of college grades, accounting for about 15 percent of
the grade differences among freshmen; and that the SAT combined with
high school grades is a better predictor than the use of grades alone.
In other words, it's the standard College Board line that the SAT is
"useful" when used with other factors in predicting freshman grades. (It
should be noted that Zwick, consistent with virtually all College Board
and ETS presentations, reports her correlation statistics without
converting them into what's known as "R-squared" figures. In my view,
the latter statistics provide readers with a common-sense understanding
of the relative powers of high school grades and test scores in
predicting college grades. I have made those conversions for readers in
the statistics quoted above.)

Unfortunately, Zwick misrepresents the real point that test critics make
on the question of predictive validity of tests like the SAT. The
salient issue is whether the small extra gains in predicting freshman
grades that the SAT might afford individual colleges outweigh the social
and economic costs of the entire admissions testing enterprise, costs
borne by individual test-takers and society at large.

Even on the narrow question of the usefulness of the SAT to individual
colleges, Zwick does not adequately answer what's perhaps the single
most devastating critique of the SAT. For example, in the 1988 book
The Case Against the SAT, James Crouse and Dale Trusheim argued
compellingly that the SAT is, for all practical purposes, useless to
colleges. They showed, for example, that if a college wanted to maximize
the number of freshmen who would earn a grade-point average of at least
2.5, then the admissions office's use of high school rank alone as the
primary screening tool would result in 62.2 percent "correct"
admissions. Adding the SAT score would improve the rate of correct
decisions by only about 2 in 100. The researchers also showed,
remarkably, that if the admissions objective is broader, such as
optimizing the rate of bachelor's degree completion for those earning
grade averages of at least 2.5, the use of high school rank by itself
would yield a slightly better rate of prediction than if the SAT scores
were added to the mix, rendering the SAT counterproductive. "From a
practical viewpoint, most colleges could ignore their applicants' SAT
score reports when they make decisions without appreciably altering the
academic performance and the graduation rates of students they admit,"
Crouse and Trusheim concluded.

At least two relatively well-known cases of colleges at opposite ends of
the public-private spectrum, which have done exactly as Crouse and
Trusheim suggest, powerfully illustrate the point. Consider the
University of Texas system, which was compelled by a 1996 federal
appeals court order, the Hopwood decision, to dismantle its
affirmative-action admissions programs. The Texas legislature responded
to the threat of diminished diversity at its campuses with the "top 10
percent plan," requiring public universities to admit any student
graduating in the top 10 percent of her high school class, regardless of
SAT scores.

Zwick, of course, is obliged in a book of this type to mention the Texas
experience. But she does so disparagingly and without providing her
readers with the most salient details on the policy's effects in terms
of racial diversity and the academic performance of students. Consider
the diversity question. While some progressives might have first
recoiled at the new policy as itself an attack on affirmative action,
that has not been the case. In fact, at the University of Texas at
Austin, the racial diversity of freshman classes has been restored to
pre-Hopwood levels, after taking an initial hit. Indeed, the
percentage of white students at Austin reached a historic low point in
2001, at 61 percent. What's more, the number of high schools sending
students to the state's flagship campus at Austin has significantly
broadened. The "new senders" to the university include more inner-city
schools in Dallas, Houston and San Antonio, as well as more rural
schools than in the past, according to research by UT history professor
David Montejano, among the plan's designers.

But the policy's impact on academic performance at the university might
be even more compelling, since that is the point upon which
neoconservative critics have been most vociferous in their condemnations
of such "backdoor" affirmative action plans that put less weight on test
scores. A December 1999 editorial in The New Republic typified
this road-to-ruin fiction: Alleging that the Texas plan and others like
it come "at the cost of dramatically lowering the academic
qualifications of entering freshmen," the TNR editorial warned,
these policies are "a recipe for the destruction of America's great
public universities."

Zwick, too, neglects to mention the facts about academic performance of
the "top 10 percenters" at the University of Texas, who have proven the
dire warnings to be groundless. At every SAT score interval, from less
than 900 to scores of 1,500 and higher, in the year 2000, students
admitted without regard to their SAT score earned better grades than
their non-top 10 percent counterparts, according to the university's
latest research report on the policy.

Or, consider that the top 10 percenters average a GPA of 3.12 as
freshmen. Their SAT average was about 1,145, fully 200 points lower than
non-top 10 percent students, who earned slightly lower GPAs of 3.07. In
fact, the grade average of 3.12 for the automatically admitted students
with moderate SAT scores was equal to the grade average of non-top 10
percenters coming in with SATs of 1,500 and higher. The same pattern has
held across the board, and for all ethnic groups.

Bates College in Lewiston, Maine, is one case of a college that seemed
to anticipate the message of the Crouse and Trusheim research. Bates ran
its own numbers and found that the SAT was simply not a sufficiently
adequate predictor of academic success for many students and abandoned
the test as an entry requirement several years ago. Other highly
selective institutions have similar stories to tell, but Bates serves to
illustrate. In dropping the SAT mandate, the college now gives students
a choice of submitting SATs or not. But it permits no choice in
requiring that students submit a detailed portfolio of their actual work
and accomplishments while in high school for evaluation, an admissions
process completed not just by admissions staff but by the entire Bates
faculty.

As with the Texas automatic admission plan, Zwick would have been
negligent not to mention the case of Bates, and she does so in her
second chapter; but it's an incomplete and skewed account. Zwick quotes
William Hiss, the former dean of admissions at Bates, in a 1993
interview in which he suggests that the Bates experience, while perhaps
appropriate for a smaller liberal arts college, probably couldn't be
duplicated at large public universities. That quote well serves Zwick's
thesis that the SAT is a bureaucratically convenient way to maintain
academic quality at public institutions like UT-Austin and the
University of California. "With the capability to conduct an intensive
review of applications and the freedom to consider students' ethnic and
racial backgrounds, these liberal arts colleges are more likely than
large university systems to succeed in fostering diversity while toeing
the line on academic quality," Zwick writes.

But Zwick neglects to mention that Hiss has since disavowed his caveats
about Bates's lessons for larger public universities. In fact, Hiss, now
a senior administrator at the college, becomes palpably irritated at
inequalities built into admissions systems that put too much stock in
mental testing. He told me in a late 1998 interview, "There are twenty
different ways you can dramatically open up the system, and if you
really want to, you'll figure out a way. And don't complain to me about
the cost, that we can't afford it."

Zwick punctuates her brief discussion of Bates and other institutions
that have dropped the SAT requirement by quoting from an October 30,
2000, article, also in The New Republic, that purportedly
revealed the "dirty little secret" on why Bates and other colleges have
abandoned the SAT. The piece cleverly observed that because SAT
submitters tend to have higher test scores than nonsubmitters, dropping
the SAT has the added statistical quirk of boosting SAT averages in
U.S. News & World Report's coveted college rankings. That
statistical anomaly was the smoking gun the TNR reporter needed
to "prove" the conspiracy.

But to anyone who has seriously researched the rationales colleges have
used in dropping the SAT, the TNR piece was a silly bit of
reporting. At Bates, as at the University of Texas, the SAT
"nonsubmitters" have performed as well or better academically than
students who submitted SATs, often with scores hundreds of points lower
than the SAT submitters. But readers of Fair Game? wouldn't know
this.

One could go on citing many more cases in which Zwick misleads her
readers through lopsided reporting and superficial analysis, such as her
statements that the Graduate Record Exam is about as good a predictor of
graduate school success as the SAT is for college freshmen (it's not,
far from it), or her overly optimistic spin on the results of many
studies showing poor correlations between standardized test scores and
later career successes.

Finally, Zwick's presentation might have benefited from a less
textbookish style, with more enriching details and concrete examples.
Instead, she tries to position herself as a "just the facts" professor
who won't burden readers with extraneous contextual details or accounts
of the human side of the testing culture. But like the enormously
successful--at least in commercial terms--standardized tests themselves,
which promote the entrenched belief in American society that genuine
learning and expert knowledge are tantamount to success on Who Wants
to Be a Millionaire
-type multiple-choice questions, books like Fair Game? might be the standardized account that some readers really want.

Speech to The Democratic National Committee--Western Caucus
Saturday, May 25, 2002
Seattle, Washington

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