The Fading Glory of Subsidiarity

 

I'll get to subsidiarity in a minute.  First, here is why I'm writing about it this morning.

 

For many years, I have subscribed to the Austin American-Statesman, first in its hard-copy paper form, and then when that got insupportably expensive, in its digital form only.  Already by then, it was owned by a large media conglomerate called the Cox Media Group, but the operations and editorial control of the paper remained in Austin.  An outfit called GateHouse Media bought it from Cox in 2018, but relatively little changed when the owners of GateHouse bought the company that ran USA Today, Gannett Media, and moved the Statesman under the Gannett umbrella.  That caused some changes, but they were tolerable.  Back in February 2025, however, Gannett sold the Statesman to Hearst Communications, another media conglomerate. 

 

This may or may not have anything to do with what happened to me this week, but I suspect it does. 

 

I've been accustomed to propping my iPad on the breakfast table and reading the "e-edition" of the Statesman along with having my cereal and orange juice.  The software worked reasonably well most of the time, and until Wednesday of this week (Sept. 3) everything went smoothly. 

 

Suddenly on Wednesday, I was asked for a password, and the system rejected it.  After futilely trying to reset the password and getting no response from the paper's system, I called a help number and got connected to a man who said there was a software problem, and I should uninstall the Statesman app on my iPad and reinstall it. 

 

I tried that Thursday, but it didn't help.  Then I tried pretending I was a new subscriber (although I had found a place online which said my subscription was paid up until December of 2025), and tried to subscribe.  That didn't even work. 

 

Finally, I called the help line again.  I spoke to one person, who silently connected me to another person, who sounded like she was working in a boiler room with fifteen other people crowded into a space the size of a VW bus. 

 

She tried to identify me by name and phone number, and all those records had been lost.  (This was also the case when I called the day before).  Finally, she could locate me by street address, but it said I wasn't a subscriber.  I asked if she could look up my subscription record to tell when it expired.  She said because of the transfer to Hearst they didn't have that information, and would I like to subscribe now?

 

Seeing no other option, I said yes.  I'd already spent about half an hour on the phone, and I figured this was the only way to get my paper back.  It took about twenty minutes for her to take my information and put it in the system, and I could hear her asking for help in the background.  Then it took another twenty minutes for me to log on and get my new subscription going, and we never could change the password they started me with. 

 

The entire megilla cost me an hour of time I was not planning to spend, and $360 for a year's subscription to the e-edition only, which was the price point that made me cancel the hard-copy edition a few years ago.  We've had some inflation since then, but not that much.

 

If there is anybody under 40 reading this, you are probably wondering why this old guy is insisting on paying that much money for stuff that I could get for free.  Well, while I disagree with the editorial positions of the Statesman staff on most matters, it is still an edited entity that does a fairly good job of telling me what's been going on.  And for another thing, you can't find that many comics all in one place on the internet for free, or if you can I don't know where to go.

 

Now for subsidiarity.  It is a term from Catholic social teaching which describes the principle that "issues should be dealt with at the most immediate or local level that is consistent with their resolution."  That's according to Wikipedia, and while that source is slanted on some matters, they are right on with this definition.

 

Going straight to my problem with the Statesman, most of the paper is written and edited thirty-five miles away up in Austin.  The issue of my e-edition was a local issue, not going any farther in principle than Austin and San Marcos.  The principle of subsidiarity says that the problem with my subscription, and the list of when I've subscribed, and my credit balance which has apparently vanished into the bit void, and my passwords, and whatever other stuff is relevant to the problem including the authority to do something about it, should all be right there in Austin, and not stuck in some anonymous server farm in Seattle and controlled from a boiler-room operation in God knows where, and owned by a corporation based in Manhattan which clearly doesn't give a flip about how it treats its new customers.

 

Simply because technology did not yet permit otherwise, newspaper operations prior to about 1970 had to be local, in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity.  If my father had a problem with his subscription to the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, he'd get on the phone and call their office downtown.  A human being less than 20 miles away would answer the phone, and flip through physical pages of paper until he or she found the hand-written subscription records, and the issue would be resolved, or not.  People made mistakes with paper records too, but they were more easily resolved.  I have no idea what's gone wrong with my subscription to the Statesman, but again, only God knows exactly what the problem is, where all the loose ends are, and whether and how it can be resolved, because it's now so complex and involves incompatible computer systems and who knows what else. 

 

I don't have an answer to this problem, except to point out that if we try moving toward systems that are more in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity, a lot of these kinds of problems might take care of themselves. 

 

Sources:  I referred to the Wikipedia articles on subsidiarity and the Austin American-Statesman

Should Chatbots Replace Government-Worker Phone Banks?

 

The recent slashes in federal-government staffing and funding have drawn the attention of the Distributed AI Research Institute (DAIR), and two of the Institute's members warn of impending disaster if the Department of Governmental Efficiency (DOGE) carries through its stated intention to replace hordes of government workers with AI chatbots.  In the July/August issue of Scientific American, DAIR founder Timnit Gebru, joined by staffer Asmelash Teka Hadgu, decry the current method of applying general-purpose large-language-model AI to the specific task of speech recognition, which would be necessary if one wants to replace the human-staffed phone banks that are at the other end of the telephone numbers for Social Security and the IRS with machines. 

 

The DAIR people give vivid examples of the kinds of things that can go wrong.  They focused on Whisper, which is a speech-recognition feature of OpenAI, and the results of studies by four universities of how well Whisper converted audio files of a person talking into transcribed text.

 

The process of machine transcription has come a long way since the very early days of computers in the 1970s, when I heard Bell Labs' former head of research John R. Pierce say that he doubted speech recognition would ever be computerized.  But anyone who phones a large organization today is likely to deal with some form of automated speech recognition, as well as anyone who has a Siri or other voice-controlled device in the home.  Just last week I was on vacation, and the TV in the room had to be controlled with voice commands.  Simple operations like asking for music or a TV channel are fairly well performed by these systems, but that's not what the DAIR people are worried about.

 

With more complex language, Whisper was shown not only to misunderstand things, but to make up stuff as well that was not in the original audio file at all.  For example, the phrase "two other girls and one lady" in the audio file became after Whisper transcribed it, "two other girls and one lady, um, which were Black." 

 

This is an example of what is charitably called "hallucinating" by AI proponents.  If a human being did something like this, we'd just call it lying, but to lie requires a will and an intellect that chooses a lie rather than the truth.  Not many AI experts want to attribute will and intellect to AI systems, so they default to calling untruths hallucinations.

 

This problem arises, the authors claim, when companies try to develop AI systems that can do everything and train them on huge unedited swaths of the Internet, rather than tailoring the design and training to a specific task, which of course costs more in terms of human input and guidance.  They paint a picture of a dystopian future in which somebody who calls Social Security can't ever talk to a human being, but just gets shunted around among chatbots which misinterpret, misinform, and simply lie about what the speaker said.

 

Both government-staffed interfaces with the public and speech-recognition systems vary greatly in quality.  Most people have encountered at least one or two government workers who are memorable for their surliness and aggressively unhelpful demeanor.  But there are also many such people who go out of their way to pay personal attention to the needs of their clients, and these are the kinds of employees we would miss if they got replaced by chatbots.

 

Elon Musk's brief tenure as head of DOGE is profiled in the June 23 issue of The New Yorker magazine, and the picture that emerges is that of a techie dude roaming around in organizations he and his tech bros didn't understand, causing havoc and basically throwing monkey wrenches into finely-adjusted clock mechanisms.  The only thing that is likely to happen in such cases is that the clock will stop working.  Improvements are not in the picture, not even cost savings in many cases.  As an IRS staffer pointed out, many IRS employees end up bringing in many times their salary's worth of added tax revenue by catching tax evaders.  Firing those people may look like an immediate short-term economy, but in the long term it will cost billions.

 

Now that Musk has left DOGE, the threat of massive-scale replacement of federal customer-service people by chatbots is less than it was.  But we would be remiss in ignoring DAIR's warning that AI systems can be misused or abused by large organizations in a mistaken attempt to save money.

 

In the private sector, there are limits to what harm can be done.  If a business depends on answering phone calls accurately and helpfully, and they install a chatbot that offends every caller, pretty soon that business will not have any more business and will go out of business.  But in the U. S. there's only one Social Security Administration and one Internal Revenue Service, and competition isn't part of that picture. 

 

The Trump administration does seem to want to do some revolutionary things to the way government operates.  But at some level, they are also aware that if they do anything that adversely affects millions of citizens, they will be blamed for it. 

 

So I'm not too concerned that all the local Social Security offices scattered around the country will be shuttered, and one's only alternative will be to call a chatbot which hallucinates by concluding the caller is dead and cuts off his Social Security check.  Along with almost every other politician in the country, Trump recognizes Social Security is a third rail that he touches at his peril. 

 

But that still leaves plenty of room for future abuse of AI by trying to make it do things that people really still do better, and maybe even more economically than computers.  While the immediate threat may have passed from the scene with Musk's departure from DOGE, the tendency is still there.  Let's hope that sensible mid-level managers will prevail against the lightning strikes of DOGE and its ilk, and the needed work of government will go on.

 

Sources:  The article "A Chatbot Dystopian Nightmare" by Asmelash Teka Hadgu and Timnit Gebru appeared in the July/August 2025 Scientific American on pp. 89-90.  I also referred to the article "Move Fast and Break Things" by Benjamin Wallace-Wells on pp. 24-35 of the June 23, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.