Saturday, October 20, 2012

Saturday Night's Alright (for Firing) — Watergate, Part 9

Watergate Special Prosecutor
Archibald Cox
For previous installments of my irregular series tracing the history of the Watergate scandal, click here. This week, the Saturday Night Massacre, October 20, 1973.

The Watergate burglary itself took place on June 20, 1972, but following Richard Nixon's overwhelming re-election in November of that year, it looked as if the worst of the scandal had been contained. As long as the burglary could be put down to overzealous underlings at the Committee to Re-Elect the President (CRP, but often abbreviated CREEP) and kept away from the White House itself, all was in order.

There were loose ends. One of the burglars had checks from E. Howard Hunt, a member of the White House "plumbers" who was connected to Special Counsel to the President Charles Colson, known as Nixon's hatchet man. As part of the cover up, White House Counsel John Dean went to acting FBI director L. Patrick Gray to keep the situation under control. As Dean later wrote, "[We] could count on Pat Gray to keep the Hunt material from becoming public, and he did not disappoint us."

Gray went so far as to burn what were billed as "national security documents [that] should never see the light of day" from Hunt's personal safe at the request of Dean and Assistant to the President for Domestic Affairs John Ehrlichman. These documents weren't officially about Watergate, Gray later said. "The first set of papers in there were false top-secret cables indicating that the Kennedy administration had much to do with the assassination of the Vietnamese president (Diem). The second set of papers in there were letters purportedly written by Senator Kennedy involving some of his peccadilloes, if you will."

Unfortunately, Gray wasn't the only person who knew about the Hunt material. His deputy, FBI Associate Director W. Mark Felt, who actually ran the FBI's day-to-day operations, was also "Deep Throat," the confidential informant providing Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein with information. As the material began to leak, Gray became shaky.

In February 1973, Nixon nominated Gray to be permanent director of the FBI, handing the Senate its first opportunity to interrogate a high-ranking Administration official about Watergate. Gray went into full self-defense mode. He volunteered that he'd provided investigation files to John Dean, saying FBI lawyers had told him it was legal, confirmed the dirty tricks activities of CREEP — and worst of all, testified that Dean himself had "probably lied" to the FBI. Enraged by the betrayal, Ehrlichman told Dean that Gray should "twist slowly, slowly in the wind." (Ehrlichman was evidently a fan of Huxley's Brave New World.) Gray withdrew his nomination, and after he learned that Dean had rolled over, Gray resigned from the FBI altogether. Although he was later indicted, he was never convicted.

In March 1973, Watergate burglar and CREEP security specialist James McCord wrote Watergate Judge John Sirica that his testimony was perjured under pressure. One month after that, seeing the handwriting on the wall, John Dean rolled over and began cooperating with Federal prosecutors. Desperate to distance himself from the scandal, Nixon responded by firing Ehrlichman, White House Chief of Staff H. R. Haldeman, and Attorney General Richard Kleindienst. (Kleindienst had taken over from John Mitchell when Mitchell was tasked with leading the re-election effort. His involvement with the scandal was peripheral, and he ended up with a misdemeanor conviction for perjury and paid a $100 fine.)

With the Justice Department compromised, Nixon had little choice but to allow the appointment of a nominally independent special prosecutor, Archibald Cox. After the revelation of the White House tapes and Nixon's refusal to release them, Cox pursued a subpoena to get the tapes for his investigation. When Cox refused a Nixon compromise that would give him transcripts but no access to the actual recordings, Nixon had had enough.

On Saturday evening, October 20, 1973, Nixon called Attorney General Elliot Richardson, Kleindienst's successor, and ordered him to fire Cox. Richardson, citing his promise to the Congressional oversight committee not to interfere with the Special Prosecutor, refused.  When Nixon continued to press him, he resigned. Nixon then called the Deputy Attorney General, William Ruckelshaus, who had made the same pledge, and ordered him to fire Cox. Ruckelshaus also resigned.

The third in command of the Justice Department was Solicitor General Robert Bork (later a notorious failed Supreme Court nominee), who had not been part of the process and who had therefore not made the same pledge. Although Bork claimed to believe that Nixon had the right to fire Cox, he says he also considered resigning so he wouldn't be "perceived as a man who did the President's bidding to save my job." Elliot Richardson says he persuaded Bork not to resign, on the grounds that the Justice Department needed some continuity of leadership.

Nixon had Bork brought to the White House by limousine, swore him in as Acting Attorney General, and had Bork write the letter on the spot firing Cox.

This incident became known as the "Saturday Night Massacre," and it was a major tipping point in the scandal. Congress was infuriated, the public outraged. After the Massacre, a plurality of Americans for the first time supported impeachment: 44% for, 43% against, 13% undecided. Several resolutions of impeachment were introduced in the House. Nixon was forced to allow Bork to appoint a new special prosecutor, Leon Jaworski. There was some concern Jaworski, as the President's approved choice, would limit the investigation to the burglary alone, but as it turned out, Jaworski also looked at the broader implications of the growing scandal.

In November 1973, a Federal district judge ruled that Cox's firing was illegal under the regulation establishing the special prosecutors office, which required a finding of "extraordinary impropriety." However, the situation had moved far too quickly to allow Cox to resume his position. The battle of the tapes would continue well into the following year.


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Fifty Thousand!

 

I was pleased to discover yesterday that my Sidewise Thinking blog has now hit the 50,000 pageview mark. Last month, there were over 4,300 views, or well over 150 per day.

My first post, "What's SideWise Thinking?", appeared on April 11, 2009. It was an excerpt from the book I was currently working on, Creative Project Management (with Ted Leemann). I've generally put a new post up every Tuesday (with a big gap between July and November 2010), with topics ranging from project and risk management to my two big series on cognitive biases and decision-making disorders.

The most popular piece so far has been "You're Not Being Reasonable," on the rules of reasonable arguing. First published on March 2, 2010, it's gotten over 3,400 page views, helped primarily by a plug from the blog "LessWrong" and a StumbleUpon link.

I don't quite understand why the second most popular post is the 23rd part of my Red Herrings series, "Hume's Guillotine." First published January 24, 2012, it's gotten over 2,200 hits, but I can't find any specific factor driving traffic to that article and that one alone. Next comes "Triage for Project Managers (Part Two)" (February 8, 2011, over 1,700 hits), and "Eyewitness to Murder" (April 13, 2010, with over 1,300). Red herrings strike again with "A Cute Angle (Part 19)" (December 27, 2011, over 1,000 hits).

By comparison, my new blog, Dobson's Improbable History, which has only a little more than a month under its belt, is already exceeding 100 hits per day, with over 3,200 pageviews last month — a much better start.

This is the 149th post I've made to the blog. I made 29 entries in 2009, 31 in 2010, 52 in 2011, and 43 so far this year.

Thanks very much for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.




Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Goldfinger Takes Fort Knox! (Propositional Fallacies, Part 2)

Bond villain Auric Goldfinger
In propositional calculus, we can describe certain arguments in mathematical terms. Some arguments are true if the component statements are true. The statement “It is raining here now, and it is raining where you are now as well” can be written as P⋀Q. It is true if both its component statements are true. On the other hand, “It is raining here now OR it is raining where you are now” (written as P⋁Q) is true as long as at least one of the statements is true.

Propositional fallacies involve fallacies of mathematical reasoning. They are fallacious regardless of the truth value of the component statements. Last time, we discussed affirming a disjunct, the fallacy of turning an inclusive OR into an exclusive one. The two remaining propositional fallacies are known as affirming the consequent and denying the antecedent.

Affirming the Consequent

If Auric Goldfinger owned Fort Knox, then he would be rich. Auric Goldfinger is rich. Therefore, Auric Goldfinger owns Fort Knox. Even if the first two statements are true, the conclusion is invalid because there are other ways to be rich besides owning Fort Knox.

Here's how to cast the argument in propositional calculus:

P→Q 
∴ P 

(If P, then Q. Q is true. Therefore, P.)

This is different from the argument "if and only if." If Auric Goldfinger is rich if and only if he owns Fort Knox, then the statement "Auric Goldfinger is rich" makes "Auric Goldfinger owns Fort Knox" necessarily true. But that's the case only if the first statement is true — which it isn't. In propositional calculus, we'd write that:

P⟷Q
Q
∴ P

Affirming the consequent is sometimes called converse error.

Denying the Antecedent

The opposite fallacy, denying the antecedent, is also known as inverse error.

If Auric Goldfinger owned Fort Knox, then he would be rich. Auric Goldfinger does not own Fort Knox. Therefore, Auric Goldfinger is not rich. This is wrong for the same reason as the previous argument was wrong: there are other ways to be rich.

In propositional calculus, this takes the form:

P→Q 
 ¬P
∴ ¬Q

If P, then Q. P is false (not-P). Therefore, Q is false (not-Q). As in the previous case, the rules for if and only if are different from if alone.



Monday, September 17, 2012

The Seven Deadly Sins — and Where To Find Them

Researchers at Kansas State University decided to create a series of county-by-county maps of the United States showing the relative distribution of the Seven Deadly Sins (Envy, Greed, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, and Pride). For each sin, they identified a measurable criterion that could serve as a stand-in, and mapped the results showing the deviation from the norm expressed in terms of the standard deviation (σ). Measures from -1.65σ to + 1.65σ are normal; lower levels shade toward the blue and higher levels toward the red.

It's very easy to critique the criteria used for each sin, or to suggest alternative metrics, but I thought it was quite interesting nonetheless. You can learn more about the project and the researchers here, starting on page 8 of the PDF.

Envy

Metric: Total thefts (robbery, burglary, larceny, grand theft auto) per capita.



Maps of the Seven Deadly Sins



Gluttony

Metric: Number of fast food restaurants per capita.







Greed

Metric: Average income compared with the number of people living below the poverty line.




Lust

Metric: Number of STD cases reported per capita.





Sloth

Metric: Expenditures on art, entertainment, and recreation compared with employment.





Wrath

Metric: Number of violent crimes (murder, assault, rape) per capita.




Pride

Metric: Aggregate of the other six offenses — because pride, as they say, is the root of all sin.






Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Propositional Fallacies, Part 1


There’s a branch of math known as propositional calculus that treats arguments like mathematical propositions. Using propositional calculus, you can demonstrate the truth or falsity of certain arguments.

Take the statement “It is raining here now.” Depending on when you make the statement, it can be either true or false. In propositional calculus, you’d represent the statement as “P,” and the opposite, “It is not raining here now” as “¬P.” If P is true, then ¬P has to be false; if ¬P is true, then P has to be false.

You can link together statements with connectors. Common connectors are AND, OR NOT, ONLY IF, and IF AND ONLY IF. If we say “It is raining here now, and it is raining where you are now as well,” we can label the second statement as Q. Represent AND with the symbol ⋀, and we can write “It is raining here now, and it is raining where you are now as well” as P⋀Q.

Of course, maybe it is raining here or it isn’t; maybe it’s raining at your house and maybe it isn’t. Because the individual statements can be true or false, we can prepare a truth table.

P                    Q                    P⋀Q
True         True            True
True         False              False
False             True            False
False             False           False

With and as a connector, the proposition P⋀Q is only true if both statements are true.

The connector OR (represented as “⋁”), on the other hand, makes the proposition true as long as at least one of the statements are true. “It is raining here now OR it is raining where you are now” results in the following truth table.

P                    Q                    P⋁Q
True         True           True
True         False          True
False          True              True
False           False             False

Notice that OR is used here inclusively rather than exclusively. That is, P doesn’t exclude Q from being true. If it’s raining at my house, that doesn’t mean it’s not raining at yours.

Given the idea of propositional logic, it's easy to conclude that there are fallacies to go with it. The first of these is known as affirming a disjunct.

Affirming a Disjunct

Also known as the fallacy of the alternative disjunct, or the false exclusionary disjunct, this particular fallacy occurs when you change an inclusive OR into an exclusive one. “It is raining here now or it is raining where you are now” gets interpreted as “If it is raining here now, then it isn’t raining where you are now.”

In our symbolic structure, that gets represented as the following argument (with “therefore” represented by ∴).

P⋁Q
P
∴¬Q

That’s a fallacy because it could be raining both places. One doesn’t preclude the other.

While OR in logic always means an inclusive “or,” that doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes want to be more concrete. The logical operator XOR is an exclusive or. When you use it, you’re saying “one or the other, but not both.” The symbol for that is ⊻.

More next week.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Who Was That Masked Man? (Formal Fallacies Part 3)


Formal fallacies are arguments that are always wrong, regardless whether the argument's premises (statements claimed as fact) are true or false. For example, in the appeal to probability, someone makes a claim that because something could happen, therefore it will happen. That’s false even if it's true that the something in question could indeed happen.

Masked Man Fallacy

I know who Bruce Wayne is.

I do not know who Batman is.

Therefore, Bruce Wayne is not Batman.

In the masked man fallacy, a substitution of identical designators in a true statement can lead to a false one. The statement "I do not know who Batman is" gets treated as if it excludes Bruce Wayne simply because I do know who he is. Of course, as long as I don’t know that Bruce is actually Batman, both statements can be absolutely true, and yet the conclusion does not follow logically.

The general form of the argument is:
X is known.
Y is unknown.
Therefore, X is not Y.
A similar argument, however, is valid.

Clark Kent is Superman (X is Z).

Batman is not Superman (Y is not Z).

Therefore, Clark Kent is not Batman (therefore, X is not Y).

That’s because being something is different from knowing something. Lack of proof of one proposition doesn’t serve as proof of the counter proposition.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Fallacy Fallacy (Formal Fallacies Part 2)


Formal fallacies are arguments that are always wrong, regardless whether the argument's premises (statements claimed as fact) are true or false. In the previous installment, the appeal to probability, a claim that because something could happen, therefore it will happen is false even if it's true that the something in question could indeed happen.

Argument from Fallacy

If an argument contains a fallacy, what does that say about the conclusion? Actually, it doesn’t say very much. Excessively pointing to fallacies can itself trigger a fallacy of its own: the argument from fallacy, or the fallacy fallacy.

The argument from fallacy is the error of concluding that if an argument can be shown to be fallacious, that means its conclusion necessarily must be false. The form of the argument is:
If P, then Q
P is a fallacious argument.
Therefore, Q is false.
Take, for example, the following claim: “I speak English, therefore I am an American citizen.” That’s a fallacious argument, because many people who speak English are not American citizens. To conclude, however, that because the argument is fallacious, you must not be an American citizen, is taking the claim a step too far. A conclusion can be right even if the argument supporting it happens to be wrong.

If you can show that a particular argument is fallacious, the only thing that means is that the particular argument can’t be used to prove the proposition. The opposite argument, that the fallacious argument itself disproves the proposition, is also a fallacy.

The argument from fallacy is also known as the argument to logic (argumentum ad logicam) and the fallacist’s fallacy. It’s part of a group of fallacies known as fallacies of relevance.

Base Rate Fallacy
Conjunction Fallacy

The base rate fallacy and the conjunction fallacy also fall into the category of cognitive bias, and were both treated earlier in this blog and in my compilation of cognitive biases, published separately.