Torture critics have offered two types of arguments in the hope of swaying public opinion against torture: A pragmatic (consequentialist) argument that “torture doesn’t work” and a moral (deontological) argument about the immorality and cruelty of torture. I present findings from two survey experiments about public support for torture among U.S. adults. The great majority of the respondents in these surveys did not endorse pragmatic arguments. They believed that torture was a quick and effective means of extracting information from detainees who had information about terror attacks. Respondents were unpersuaded by the suggestion that evidence extracted by means of torture might be fragmentary, outdated, or merely corroborative. However, when respondents were informed about the protracted nature of torture, which often requires weeks or months of interrogation before yielding results, their support for torture was lower by 14% in one survey and by 30% in a second survey. Survey participants refused to endorse prolonged torture not because they perceived torture to be ineffective, but because they felt that prolonged torture was cruel. Torture critics would be well advised to steer away from less persuasive arguments about torture inefficacy and instead confront audiences with sobering truths about the cruelty of torture.

Allusions to holy scriptures and quotes from sacred texts appear in hundreds of political science articles. Yet while we treat other ancient texts with reverence and diligence, we have not extended a similar care to the holy scriptures of the world's religions. Political scientists often refer to biblical events, statements, and turns of phrase but rarely cite them, chapter and verse. They are careless about referencing the precise translation of the holy texts used, tend to cite religious passages out of context, and disregard the role of religious tradition, interpretation, and practice in shaping and reshaping the meaning of holy texts. I offer examples for these trends, provide evidence for their harmful implications and offer guidelines for the appropriate treatment of sacred texts as formal scholarly sources.

There is a common misconception among graduate students regarding the purpose of the job interview. Many seem to treat the interview as if it were designed to identify and hire outstanding graduate students. Indeed, over the course of their brief interaction with a prospective hire, faculty strive to reassure themselves of the candidate's intelligence, training, and scholarly potential. But underlying all these, I would like to argue, is a persistent concern: Will this candidate make for a good colleague? This is the primary purpose of the interview: Identifying and hiring prospective peers.

Recently, Microsoft's PowerPoint has come under a series of brutal attacks. Critics have accused the software of promoting simplistic thinking, dumbing down presentations, and constricting interactions between presenter and audience (Schwartz 2003; Parker 2001; Thompson 2003). One detractor went so far as to label PowerPoint “technological cocaine” and another demanded a ban on the software, urging that “Friends Don't Let Friends Use PowerPoint” (Keller 2003; Stewart 2001). The most coherent exposition of PowerPoint's weaknesses has come from Edward Tufte, Yale Professor and visual presentation guru. Tufte (2003) argues that PowerPoint is format—rather than content—or audience-oriented, and thus “turn[s] everything into a sales pitch.” His list of grievances against the software is long. PowerPoint replaces serious analysis with chartjunk, logotypes, and corny clip art. It breaks information into small arbitrary fragments and stacks it chronologically in a manner that inhibits analysis through comparison. It “messes up data with systematic intensity” through bad resolution, thin graphics, and low-information charts. PowerPoint's “inherent defects,” so says Tufte, are “making us stupid, degrading the quality and credibility of our communication, turning us into bores, wasting our colleagues' time.”Ron E. Hassner is assistant professor of political science at the University of California, Berkeley. He remains indebted to Scott D. Sagan for introducing him to both PowerPoint and baseball.