Chinese robber fallacy

Given the recent discussion of media bias here, I wanted to bring up Alyssa Vance’s “Chinese robber fallacy”, which she describes as:
 
..where you use a generic problem to attack a specific person or group, even though other groups have the problem just as much (or even more so)
 
For example, if you don’t like Chinese people, you can find some story of a Chinese person robbing someone, and claim that means there’s a big social problem with Chinese people being robbers.
 
I originally didn’t find this too interesting. It sounds like the same idea as plain old stereotyping, something we think about often and are carefully warned to avoid.
 
But after re-reading the post, I think the argument is more complex. There are over a billion Chinese people. If even one in a thousand is a robber, you can provide one million examples of Chinese robbers to appease the doubters. Most people think of stereotyping as “Here’s one example I heard of where the out-group does something bad,” and then you correct it with “But we can’t generalize about an entire group just from one example!” It’s less obvious that you may be able to provide literally one million examples of your false stereotype and still have it be a false stereotype. If you spend twelve hours a day on the task and can describe one crime every ten seconds, you can spend four months doing nothing but providing examples of burglarous Chinese – and still have absolutely no point.
 
If we’re really concerned about media bias, we need to think about Chinese Robber Fallacy as one of the media’s strongest weapons. There are lots of people – 300 million in America alone. No matter what point the media wants to make, there will be hundreds of salient examples. No matter how low-probability their outcome of interest is, they will never have to stop covering it if they don’t want to.
 

A fantastic and important post by Scott Alexander of the great Slate Star Codex: Cardiologists and Chinese Robbers.

This is why I'm so suspicious of anecdote-based journalism, especially when it comes from an outlet with a hallowed reputation. Think back to the piece on Amazon working conditions in the NYTimes, and see how much actual data backs up some of the generalizations made in the piece. I'm not saying that the individual stories of terrible managers don't matter, because each of those in and of themselves was terrible and worth deep investigation.

Many people I know just take it for granted that it's like that throughout the company, though. Take this op-ed from Joe Nocera. He felt comfortable enough, after reading that piece, to make sweeping statements like this:

It’s an enormously adversarial place. Employees who face difficult life moments, such as dealing with a serious illness, are offered not empathy and time off but rebukes that they are not focused enough on work. A normal workweek is 80 to 85 hours, in an unrelenting pressure-cooker atmosphere.
 

I will bet Joe Nocera his net worth that the average workweek at Amazon is not 80 to 85 hours. I don't think any company in the world with over 170,000 employees has an average work week approaching anywhere near 80 to 85 hours. But hey, it's just a NYTimes op-ed, let's just throw a crazy fact like that out there with no sourcing whatsoever, who's going to fact-check an op-ed anyhow?

What 170,000 employees and who knows how many former employees provides a reporter is a lot of people to mine for Chinese robbers.

[Incidentally, that large a sample should also provide plenty of counter-examples, but Amazon's restrictive, and in my opinion, short-sighted social media policy prevents folks like that from speaking out. One employee couldn't take the piece lying down and wrote a rebuttal on LinkedIn, and later other former employees came out in the company's defense, including one who felt her story was used in the piece in a misleading way. It doesn't have to work just in the company's favor, other stories like this one have come and added to some of the terrible anecdotes in the original NYTimes piece. However, since the social media policy restricts current employees from speaking out, it likely mutes the largest population of people who enjoy working there.]

I don't mean to wade back into the Amazon debate with this piece, and parts of it, even if rhetorically framed with bias, struck me as reasonably accurate. It just happens to be the most prominent recent example of Chinese robber fallacy that came to mind. Anyone who's been the subject of an anecdote-based journalistic piece should be suspicious of such pieces, yet so many people in and outside of tech took the Amazon piece as gospel.

The fact is, the Chinese robber fallacy really works. It must be so satisfying, as a reporter, to come across a source willing to go on the record with a dramatic narrative, even if it isn't statistically significant. That source also has spent their life looking for narrative patterns, and soon it's Chinese robbers all the way down.

Humans are wired to respond to narratives, to draw conclusions based on insufficient data. We're all looking for narrative shortcuts to the truth. When reporters give us a few carefully chosen examples, it's game over, regardless of whether or not it's a statistically significant sample, or whether or not the sample was plagued by selection bias.

Such journalism can be moving and hugely important. It can move people's hearts, and that's often what's needed to change the world. But it's also a dangerous weapon. Recall Janet Malcolm's opening line to her classic piece “The Journalist and the Murderer”:

Every journalist who is not too stupid or full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible.
 

She meant it in a different context, but it echoes here.

Journalism with lots of data and statistics aren't sexy. They may not even require as much legwork as interviewing lots of people over long period of time, and it's not the type of journalism that gets dramatized in the movies. But there's a reason that science isn't based on a few good stories.

Lip reading as a service

Plenty of pieces have been written about the scuffle between the Washington Nationals' Bryce Harper and Jonathan Papelbon. For baseball fans who missed it or those who care nothing about sports, the summary is that Harper popped up a pitch he thought he should have hit harder and so he didn't sprint to first base because there was a 99% chance it would be caught easily. Papelbon yelled at him for not running, Harper yelled back, and then Papelbon grabbed Harper's throat and attacked him until teammates broke them up.

I thought this piece in Grantland contained a unique twist I'd love to see more of: author Ben Lindbergh asked a deaf friend who can lipread to see if he could figure out what Harper and Papelbon were shouting at each other.

A few years ago, I asked Evan Brunell, a deaf writer and skilled lipreader, to help me transcribe manager-umpire arguments. I asked Evan to take a look at this confrontation, too. Here’s what he thinks was said:
 
Papelbon: … fucking go! On the fucking … Yeah, run the fucking ball out. [Obscured swearing] … goddamn ball out.
 
Harper: … the fuck up! Are you fucking kidding me? Chill the fuck out, man. Let’s fucking go! I’ll fucking go right —
 
If that transcript is accurate, Harper didn’t exactly deescalate, but this was all posturing until Papelbon charged without waiting to find out what would happen when Harper said “now.”
 

That is fantastic. More sports coverage should include the services of lip readers to help bring us where microphones don't go. Hearing what players say on the field adds an entirely new layer to the narrative of most sporting contests, as anyone who has watched archival footage, with on-field or on-court audio added back in, can attest. Sure, some (much?) of the language is salty, but I'd pay extra for an uncensored audio feed.

Yes, players would probably self-censor once such coverage became common, but even without all the cussing, much of the trash talk or psychological wordplay is amazing. What I wouldn't give to hear some Michael Jordan trash talk from back in the day.

One show comes really close: HBO's Hard Knocks. It's a show I never think I want to watch because it's always about a team I care little about, and then once I start in on the season premiere I inevitably find myself at the end of the five episode miniseries in no time at all. This season was no different. I found myself carried along by Bill O'Brien's constant expletive-filled tirades, J.J Watt's John Bunyan-like athletic feats, and Brian Cushing throwing up for what seemed like half an hour straight. And, as with every season, perhaps the best part of the show, the end of training camp cuts, when one player after another is let go by either the head coach or one of his assistants.

If a Hard Knocks-style of program were produced for every team in the NFL, MLB, and the NBA, I suspect the aggregate ratings across the franchise would be gigantic, and fans' relationships with players and coaches would be deeper, if more complicated. When it comes to sports, a lifetime of being fed clichéd narratives by mass sports media has left me hungry for less mediated coverage. Why settle for a reporter telling us what Bryce Harper is like? Why not let us see him on and off the field and let us judge for ourselves?

Why?

MY NEPHEW: Why?
 
ME: Because you’re my sister’s son. And I care about her.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: Because I just do.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: Because, I guess, when I was born, she was three years old and, like any younger sibling, I put her on a pedestal.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: I probably idealized her, which is strange considering that your mom was not very nice to me.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: She probably felt a mix of confusing emotions.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: She was an only child, and when I came along she was forced to share everything.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: We each had needs, and I think it was difficult for our parents to satisfy us both.

MY NEPHEW: Why?

ME: Because needs are so ephemeral. I think it was Maslow who said, “It’s a rare and difficult psychological achievement to know what we want.”
 

With my 21 month old niece staying with me the past few days, I was reminded of this humor piece for the New Yorker by Jesse Eisenberg.

Incidentally, while Eisenberg is an accomplished actor, I'm way more impressed with his body of writing for the New Yorker. I suppose that's largely because I think of him as an actor first, but being published under that banner is an accomplishment in and of itself.