I 

spent last summer working 
for 
a 
nongovernmental 
organization in Delhi, India. 
One weekend I took a day trip to 
see the Taj Mahal. On the bus back, 
I struck up a conversation with 
a fellow traveler — a deceptively 
young-looking Swiss man. He 
had 
spent 
months 
traveling 
throughout Latin America and 
Asia. Toward the end of the bus 
ride, he summarized his travels 
with a comparison. He told me 
“our” societies in the West are 
different than in non-Western 
countries. In the West, he told 
me, we share fundamental values 
and a way of life. He thought 
Argentina was more Western 
and thus felt more at home there. 
Back at my office in Delhi, one of 
my bosses would make similar 
comments, comparing “Western” 
America with “Eastern” India. For 
Westerners, it often seems that 
understanding foreign cultures 
is easier by comparing them to 
the West, which ostensibly has 
a similar set of values, or shared 
civilizational 
foundations. 
But 
comparisons 
that 
contrast 
a 
totemic “Western world” with the 
rest of the world are misleading 
and problematic.
The “West” is a racial and 
religious category. For a country to 
be Western, it must have a majority 
white population and a history of 
Christianity. Japan is a democratic 
country with a capitalist system 
but is not Western. Latin American 
countries are debatably Western 
just as they are debatably white. 
The 
categories 
of 
race 
and religion do not have the 
explanatory power to sufficiently 
understand another individual 
or society. To understand the 
differences between life in China 
and France today, you cannot 
simply consider the differences 
between Christianity and being 
white 
with 
Confucianism 
or 
Daoism and being Han Chinese. 
Doing so would not give you any 
meaningful 
understanding 
of 
the differences between modern 
France and modern China, nor 
of people that live in the two 
countries. But, when people talk 
about the “West,” they don’t 
usually think it as a religious 
or racial category, at least not 
consciously. So, what do people 
mean when they compare the 
“West” to the rest of the world?
The idea of Western values 
and civilization as fundamentally 
different from those of “Eastern” 
or non-Western societies stems 
from 
European 
imperialism. 
Europeans tried to schematize 
the vast swaths of people they 

encountered with the endgoal 
of 
maintaining 
imperialism. 
Guided by “social Darwinist” 
ideas, the scholarship of non-
Europeans by 19th-century and 
early 20th-century Europeans was 
terribly flawed. The comparison of 
the West and the rest of the world 
developed to simplify human 
diversity in a way that justified 
the subjugation of “primitive” 
races and peoples by an advanced 
assortment 
of 
“Western” 
countries.
For example, James Mill, the 
leading 
19th-century 
British 
“scholar” 
of 
Indian 
history, 
made sweeping conclusions that 
Indians and other non-Western 
colonial subjects were primitive. 
He shrugged Indian intellectual 
advances, 
like 
the 
creation 
of the decimal system, or the 
philosophically-rich 
Bhagavad 
Gita, as primitive “hieroglyphics. 
The British, he concluded, could 
spread their advanced, Western 
thought and technology to the 
primitive peoples of the East.
Today, the idea of the West 
versus the rest of the world is by no 
means as racist as it was during the 
age of imperialism. As Amartya 
Sen, a Nobel Prize-winning Indian 
economist, noted in his book 
“The 
Argumentative 
Indian,” 
Westerners who today rely on the 
simplifying comparisons to the 
West often do so because they 
want to understand other cultures 
rather 
than 
dominate 
them. 
Understanding 
other 
cultures 
through simplified comparisons 
with the West can help people 
intensify their own identities 
through contrast, as Edward Said 
noted in his theory of Orientalism. 
But, use of the comparison of the 
“West” and the rest of the world 
should still be avoided.
Today, the most politically 
influential version of comparing 
the West to the rest of the world is 
Samuel Huntington. His seminal 
book “Clash of Civilizations and 
the Remaking of World Order” 
asserted the world was divided 
into distinct civilizations that 
naturally opposed each other. He 
attributes the primary difference 
between 
Western 
civilization 
and other civilizations to the 
development of liberalism rooted 
in individual rights and liberties 
in the West. This way of thinking 
is rife with potential for prejudice.
The idea that non-Europeans 
have different, lesser civilizational 
values is a strong argument against 
an inclusive immigration policy. If 
too many non-Westerners live in 
the West, how long before “their” 
civilization 
replaces 
“ours”? 

Similarly, if each civilization has 
such distinct values and character, 
then maybe more progressive 
“Western values” of human rights, 
women’s rights or democracy 
are not legitimate outside the 
West. This civilizational way 
of 
thinking 
is 
attractive 
to 
Western 
xenophobes, 
Islamic 
fundamentalists 
and 
dictators 
alike. 
Luckily, it isn’t hard to discredit 
Huntington’s divisive argument. 
The development of individualism 
and liberalism can be found in 
non-Western 
histories. 
Early 
versions 
of 
private 
property 
existed in the Qin dynasty starting 
in 221 B.C. Mencius, a disciple of 
Confucius, thought anyone could 
become emperor on the basis of 
their merit. He also conceived of 
an early social contract by which 
an emperor could be overthrown 
if his rule did not benefit the 
people. In India, Amartya Sen 
argues in “The Argumentative 
Indian” 
a 
long 
tradition 
of 
heterodoxy, public reason and 
tolerance laid the groundwork 
for democracy. And Indian rulers 
like Ashoka and Akbar ruled a 
tolerant and multicultural empire, 
where religious tolerance, choice 
and 
interfaith 
dialogue 
were 
encouraged. And even in histories 
where finding liberal traditions 
are harder, like Japan’s, liberal 
ideas and governance can still 
be adopted, as is the case with 
modern Japan.
If you’ve taken any liberal 
arts classes on a modern college 
campus you might agree with 
me. A key principle for many 
liberal arts courses seems to be 
to warn you not to essentialize or 
generalize. Essentialism can be 
defined as “attributing natural, 
essential 
characteristics 
to 
members of specific culturally 
defined 
(gender, 
age, 
ethnic, 

“racial”, 
socioeconomic, 

linguistic...) groups.”
It is easy to look at the world 
through 
generalizations 
that 
explain 
dizzying 
difference 
and complexity through simple 
comparisons of different social 
groups. But that same thinking, 
though not inherently racist or 
bigoted, contributes to some of our 
biggest social problems. All forms 
of bigotry hinge on essentialism 
and 
generalizations. 
Thinking 
with less essentialism and less 
generalizations would promote 
individualism 
and 
tolerance, 
something that should attract both 
liberals and conservatives.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Emma Chang
Ben Charlson
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Emily Huhman

Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Lucas Maiman
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
Ashley Zhang
Sam Weinberger

DAYTON HARE
Managing Editor

420 Maynard St. 
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

ALEXA ST. JOHN
Editor in Chief
 ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY AND 
ASHLEY ZHANG
Editorial Page Editors

Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board. 
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

ANAMARIA CUZA | COLUMN

Algorithm prophecies
Y

ou might have heard 
the 
stories 
about 
the 
oracles 
of 
Greek 
antiquity, who were able to 
make prophetic predictions. You 
might be familiar with the name 
Nostradamus, whose prophecies 
are even nowadays picked up by 
those who predicted that 2012 
would be the end of the world. 
You probably made fun of these 
people’s beliefs in prophets, 
prophecies or anything related 
to inferring “facts” about the 
future because, as educated 
people, we know that we live in 
a chaotic world where the future 
cannot be predicted accurately.
 Still, our brains do not seem 
to have the same reactions when 
we talk about predictions. You 
can find article after article on 
how you can “How to predict the 
NBA with a Machine Learning 
system 
written 
in 
Python,” 
and paper after paper on an 
“improved model for predicting 
presidential election outcomes.” 
Stop using gods, and start 
using numbers and variables, 
change the word “prophecy” 
to “prediction” or, even better, 
“forecasting” and you suddenly 
have a “fact” about the future, 
that is worthy of academic 
papers and headlines. There 
is something about the idea of 
certainty that makes us shiver 
with delight. That need for 
certainty has brought us back to 
the same mindset that made us 
believe centuries ago in Pythia, 
the priestess of the Temple of 
Apollo at Delphi.
The 
problem 
with 
this 
mindset 
is 
not 
inherent 
in 
predictions. 
After 
all, 
scientists use models to make 
predictions to ease the process 
of understanding the world. 
Even though these techniques 
aren’t always accurate, they are 
modeling 
biological 
patterns, 
not the unpredictable behavior 
of humans or societies. Our 

fascination with peeking into 
the future, though, pushes us 
to use predictive models in 
psychology, trading or even 
politics. One algorithm was built 
to predict revolutions, but while 
it was capable of predicting an 
insurgency in Paraguay, it didn’t 
foresee the uprising in Ukraine. 
The people involved in building 
the model argued that the 
project’s end result wasn’t the 
prediction itself, but the testing 
of geopolitical theories. It was a 
way for researchers to rethink 
their 
theories, 
to 
reanalyze 
dogmas.
Predictive 
algorithms, 
though, have a way of creating 
new dogmas. The complexity 
of 
the 
models, 
the 
usually 
untraceable prediction process, 
combined with people’s greater 
trust in numbers than in fellow 
humans, makes us take the 
prediction’s result for granted.
The Correctional Offender 
Management 
Profiling 
for 
Alternative Sanctions algorithm 
predicts a defendant’s risk of 
committing another crime. After 
several years of being used by 
many states across the U.S., 
a 2018 study showed that the 
COMPAS model was no better at 
predicting a person’s likelihood 
of recidivism than volunteers 
randomly selected from the 
internet. Still, back in 2013, Paul 
Zilly was convicted of stealing 
a push lawnmower, leading the 
prosecutor to recommend a 
year in county jail. Instead, the 
judge suddenly overturned the 
plea deal, imposing two years 
in a state prison. His reasoning? 
He had seen Paul Zilly’s high-
risk score from COMPAS. He 
had 
allowed 
his 
judgment 
to be guided by a predictive 
model that was no better in its 
predictions than a random group 
of volunteers. 
Today’s predictive models 
are probably better equipped 

in making sense of the future 
than 
the 
prophets 
of 
past 
centuries. After all, these kinds 
of algorithms are fed immense 
amounts of historical data from 
which 
they 
start 
observing 
certain patterns. But what if 
particular 
human 
behaviors, 
economic 
fluctuations, 
and 
revolutions are bound to happen 
outside of historical patterns? 
That is where these algorithms 
fail.
The problem is when we 
forget that these predictions 
are doomed to have their 
failures. We forget because 
we rejoice in the idea that 
algorithms give us certainty 
in a world of uncertainties. 
We allow ourselves to get 
trapped in the same idea 
that made people seek out an 
oracle’s prophecies, the same 
idea that made them analyze 
Nostradamus’s 
writing 
to 
predict the 2012 apocalypse.
If we are so afraid of the 
coming revolution of artificial 
intelligence 
and 
algorithms 
that will take over our jobs, we 
should take a moment to reflect 
on the inherent imperfection 
of these systems, and on our 
own imperfections as humans. 
After all, adding these highly 
complex models into our daily 
lives only leads to one more 
element of uncertainty. The 
same uncertainty that we have 
been dealing with since the 
beginning of humanity. Once we 
can understand that technology 
will most likely add a layer of 
uncertainty to our lives, instead 
of playing into the false sense 
of certainty we’ve craved for 
centuries, we can start grasping 
the way our humanity will merge 
with algorithms.

The West vs. the rest

AARON BAKER | COLUMN

Anamaria Cuza can be reached at 

anacuza@umich.edu

Aaron Baker can be reached at 

aaronbak@umich.edu.

On Oct. 17, the Washington 
Post published Khashoggi’s 
last 
column, 
which 
coincidentally described the 
realities of the Arab media 
community that contributed 
to 
the 
suspected 
motives 
behind his disappearance.
The column comments on 
the misinformation and lack of 
information available for Arab 
citizens due to the censorship 
and suppression tactics of the 
hegemonic governments that 
control the media. Khashoggi 
mentions 
the 
unfair 
imprisonment of his friend, 
Saudi writer Saleh al-Shehi, 
as an example of an atrocity 
that failed to capture the 
attention of the international 
community, an example that 
carries the somber irony of 
foreshadowing in the context 
of Khashoggi’s own situation. 
He goes on to caution the 
world about the free reign 
afforded to Arab countries 
when journalists are unable 
to 
safely report on 
their 
experiences.

It’s easy to feel helpless 
when confronted with issues 
of international scale. The 
nuances of global politics are 
difficult to comprehend, let 
alone influence, but in this 
instance, 
we 
as 
members 

of 
the 
media 
community, 
readers and writers alike, 
are 
presented 
with 
an 
opportunity to effect real 
change. 
Khashoggi’s 
final 
published paragraph imparted 
the need for more Arab voices 
to be elevated in publications 
through the creation of an 
independent 
international 

forum, aimed at addressing 
the 
structural 
problems 
affecting Arab societies today. 
We as an editorial board, 
wholeheartedly support the 
creation of such an entity 
and encourage our readers to 
support 
organizations 
that 
start initiatives to highlight 
Arab voices in journalism in 
the coming years. Regimes 
are temporary, but culture 
is 
durable, 
and 
cultural 
change cannot be effectively 
achieved 
without 
strong 
and loud voices with high 
platforms. As members of 
the global community, we 
are 
actively 
witnessing 
a 
political culture of predation. 
It’s 
our 
imperative 
to 
facilitate appropriate avenues 
for change when we can. 
Khashoggi spent a lifetime 
dedicated to the cause of 
illuminating the Arab world 
for Western readers. The least 
we can do is help other Arab 
journalists honor his memory 
by shining that same light for 
their own communities.

ELIAS KHOURY | COLUMN

The GOP assault on America
O

n Oct. 21, I spent a 
significant chunk of my 
Sunday night watching 
a debate between Sam Seder, a 
progressive talk radio host, and 
Charlie Kirk, the executive director 
of Turning Point USA. The guiding 
question of the debate was “Is 
President Trump helping the middle 
class?” Though I already knew the 
answer to this easy question — “no” 
— I decided to tune in any way.
I was very much familiar with 
the two participants prior to the 
debate. And while things did not 
go exactly as I expected, I cannot 
say that I was surprised by what 
transpired. Kirk was prone to 
incoherent rambling with outdated 
talking points sprinkled into stutter-
filled diatribes. Seder, on the other 
hand, took a far more metered-
out approach, pointing to specific 
Trump administration policies that 
have had catastrophic effects on the 
middle class.
One 
specific 
example 
of 
this was when Kirk touted the 
current administration’s cutting of 
regulation as advantageous to the 
middle class. Seder immediately 
fired 
back, 
citing 
specific 
environmental 
regulations 
that 
have been cut with projected death 
tolls in the tens of thousands. Kirk, 
subsequently, was silent.
Quickly 
coming 
to 
the 
realization that he was fighting a 
losing battle, Kirk began the flail. 
The errand boy of GOP megadonors 
adopted a new strategy in order to 
cut his losses: Go, and stay, off topic. 
In all fairness, this tactic worked 
quite well for Kirk as he was able 
to drag Seder into murky waters 
that, within the intended confines 
of this debate, were supposed to go 
uncharted. For a significant stretch, 
what was supposed to be a debate 
about the impact of the current 
administration’s policies on the 

middle class became an argument 
over 
the 
minutia 
of 
banking 
procedure. 
Nevertheless, 
any 
objective viewer came away with 
the impression that Seder, though 
not in peak form, won the exchange 
handily.
While the actual content of 
the debate left something to be 
desired, the timing was absolutely 
appropriate as it came in the wake 
of Senate Majority Leader Mitch 
McConnell’s call for massive cuts to 
the two most popular government 
programs — Social Security and 
Medicare. 
This 
fundamentally 
anti-democratic 
move 
was 
proposed under the guise of “fiscal 
responsibility.” Nothing could be 
more disingenuous.
This is the same party that 
drastically 
reduced 
government 
revenues by passing a tax cut bill in 
which 83 percent of the benefits went 
to the top 1 percent. They coupled 
this with increases to our already 
bloated military budget which has 
become less about national defense 
and more about lining the pockets 
of corrupt, evil war profiteers. This 
abuse of the American taxpayer is 
cronyism marketed as patriotism.
Unsurprisingly, the deficit has 
ballooned to $779 billion and is set 
to surpass $1 trillion by 2019. Rather 
than making the rich pay their fair 
share in taxes or attacking military 
waste (the Department of Defense 
spent $1.5 trillion on a fighter jet that 
doesn’t work), they have decided to 
continue their crusade to destroy the 
programs Americans hold dearest. 
They want to further eviscerate an 
already measly welfare state.
The Republican economic plan 
gives to the rich by taking away 
from the rest of us. This is not deficit 
hawkishness. It’s economic elitism. 
A 62-percent majority of Americans 
see the GOP as the party of the rich 
— this is why.

If one is concerned about the 
deficit and national debt, you should 
take a good, hard look at Medicare. 
There are changes in the program 
that could be made that would 
save the federal government a lot 
of money. The key to saving money 
with Medicare is to expand it.
According to a recent study 
funded by the Koch brothers, a 
“Medicare for all” system would 
save the American people $2 
trillion over a 10 year period. 
Moreover, a single-payer health 
care system would get rid of the 
greatest national embarrassment 
of all: The fact that people are dying 
in the streets of the richest country 
on Earth due to a lack of ability to 
pay for astronomically expensive 
healthcare.
As for Social Security, to cut this 
program would constitute theft. 
People have been paying into the 
system their whole lives. To take 
what they are rightfully entitled to 
from them would be immoral.
In 
summation, 
the 
latest 
push by the Republicans to gut 
social services has nothing to 
do with wanting to be “fiscally 
responsible.” It is just another 
example of politicians acting as 
slaves to the plutocracy rather 
than standing up for what is right. 
Current government policy has 
been working against working and 
middle-class Americans — and 
things might just get a lot worse.
I urge you to keep all of this in 
mind when you head to the polls 
this November. Every election is a 
fight for the soul of a nation. Fifty-
eight percent of Americans believe 
this country is headed in the wrong 
direction. Let’s do what we can to 
try to turn it around.

Elias Khoury can be reached at 

ekhoury@umich.edu.

FROM THE OPINION EDITORS

What we owe Khashoggi

T

he killing and alleged dismemberment of journalist Jamal Khashoggi 
by Saudi operatives has sent shock waves throughout the media and 
the larger international community. Calls have been made to boycott 
Saudi companies and support U.S. sanctions on Saudi Arabia, but the voice 
that rings clearest throughout the hurricane of emotions and opinions is 
Khashoggi’s own.

It’s easy to feel 
helpless when 
confronted 
with issues of 
international scale

