A Primer on Paragraphs

Kenneth A. Rahn
For PDLOT Workshop “Improving Your Paragraphs”
11 February and 22 April 2002

(Adapted from Principles of Scientific Writing, by K. A. Rahn, the text for OCG533, “Graduate Writing in the Marine and Environmental Sciences.”)

Main topics considered here

1. What is a paragraph?

2. How long should a paragraph be?

3. What are the various functions of paragraphs?

4. What are the ways in which paragraphs can be organized?

5. How can I know when to start a new paragraph?

6. How can I make my paragraphs most effective?

1. What is a paragraph?

      It is surprisingly hard to define paragraph. The Bedford Handbook for Writers[1] says:

   Except for special-purpose paragraphs, such as introductions and conclusions, paragraphs are clusters of information supporting an essay's main point (or advancing a story's action). Aim for paragraphs that are clearly focused, well developed, organized, coherent, and neither too long nor too short for easy reading.

     The Harbrace College Handbook[2] defines paragraph as:

   Usually a group of related sentences unified by a single idea but occasionally as brief as a single sentence (or even a single word or phrase). The central, or controlling, idea of a paragraph is often explicitly stated in a topic sentence. A paragraph is physically defined by the indentation of its first line.

      The classic Heath Handbook[3] doesn't even define paragraph. Instead, it offers prescriptions for characteristics of paragraphs:

   First a paragraph should ordinarily be unified around a single thought. If the function of paragraphing is to help point out a writer's main ideas, then it follows logically that separate ideas should be developed in separate paragraphs. Second, if the reader is to make sense of the text, all the paragraphs in a given piece of writing must be related to one another in some clear way.

      The authors of The Writer's Rhetoric and Handbook[4] state that:

   Defining the term paragraph is next to impossible unless you understand the Southern term mess, a unit of measure meaning “just the right amount of something”—as in “a mess of black-eyed peas,” “a mess of fried chicken.” Once you understand this word, we can explain that a paragraph is a mess of sentences about a single topic. Occasionally, though, for rhetorical reasons a paragraph may be a single sentence. You see how tricky a simple definition can get.

The authors of Strategies for Successful Writing[5] state simply that:

   Most paragraphs, though, include a number of sentences that develop and clarify one idea.

      When all else fails, head for the dictionary. According to Webster's New World Dictionary,[6] a paragraph is:

   a distinct section or subdivision of a chapter, letter, etc., usually dealing with a particular point; it is begun on a new line, often indented.

This is the bare-bones definition of paragraph.
      But the best definition of paragraph I have found is also the oldest. It was provided by H. W. Fowler in 1917 and reprinted in 1965:[7]

   The purpose of paragraphing is to give the reader a rest. The writer is saying to him: ‘Have you got that? If so, I’ll go on to the next point.’ There can be no general rule about the most suitable length for a paragraph; a succession of very short ones is as irritating as very long ones are wearisome. The paragraph is essentially a unit of thought, not of length: it must be homogeneous in subject-matter and sequential in treatment. If a single sequence of treatment of a single subject means an unreasonably long paragraph, it may be divided into more than one. But passages that have not this unity must not be combined into one, even though each by itself may seem to make an unduly short paragraph.
   Paragraphing is also a matter of the eye. A reader will address himself more readily to his task if he sees from the start that he will have breathing-spaces from time to time than if what is before him looks like a marathon course.

Fowler is stating that a paragraph is a unified unit of thought that can be of any length, that its sentences must be arranged in logical sequence, and that the end of a paragraph provides the reader a place to rest and absorb what he has just read.
      In summary, it appears that a paragraph is a group of sentences focused on a single main idea and identified physically by indenting or beginning a new line.
      [Note that these definitions fail to note the existence of paragraphia, a brain condition characterized by the unintentional omission, transposition, or insertion of letters or words in writing.]

2. How long should a paragraph be?
      There is no preferred length for a paragraph. It depends completely on the length of your thought. If you think in long, deep thoughts, you will produce long, deep paragraphs. If you think in short, sharp bullets, your paragraphs will be like that, too. In practice, lengths of paragraphs also depend on factors such as the style of the material, its intended audience, and the width of the column in which it is to be printed. In general, the more sophisticated the style of writing, the longer the paragraphs. Whereas belletristic and highly technical paragraphs may extend to 200 to 400 words and 10 to 20 sentences, paragraphs for less-formal writings may comprise only 100 words or fewer (three to five sentences). Paragraphs in newspapers commonly contain only one or two sentences and 30 to 50 words.
      Editors also say that one of the primary determiners of lengths of paragraphs is the need for white space, or breaks in the solid text that are provided by the indentations of paragraphs. The breaks can be inserted as frequently as every few lines (in newspapers with multiple columns) or as infrequently as every 10–20 lines (in serious books with single columns). I think, though, that paragraphs in newspapers are short mainly because their thoughts are short.
      Here are a few simple statistics from a brief survey of the numbers of sentences per paragraph in several formats:

      The lengths of paragraphs divide into two groups. The shortest are for newspaper stories and editorials (1.1–1.3 and 3.2 sentences per paragraph, respectively), the longest for trade books and scientific articles (roughly 4 to 8 sentences per paragraph). This quick survey suggests that paragraphs in current scientific writing are similar in length to those in much other current writing, with averages of 3–8 sentences per paragraph. Paragraphs this short cannot have detailed structures.
      It wasn’t always so. Anyone who glances at writings from a century or more ago sees that paragraphs were two or three times longer then. Why? Perhaps today's shorter paragraphs are just reflecting our faster-paced lives and the pressure to read greater and greater amounts of material. Maybe we just don’t have the time to sit by the fire and luxuriate in paragraphs any more. Worse, maybe we no longer want to take the time.

3. What are the various functions of paragraphs?
      Traditional textbooks on writing frequently confuse the function of a paragraph with its pattern of organization. Among the traditional “types” of paragraphs, which usually means functions rather than patterns of organization, are no less than eighteen:

      1. Description
      2. Details
      3. Examples and illustrations
      4. Chronological (narration)
      5. Spatial
      6. Process
      7. Definition
      8. Classification and division
      9. Order of importance
      10. Comparison and contrast
      11. Topic—restriction—illustration
      12. Topic—restriction—illustration—topic
      13. Analogy
      14. Question and answer
      15. Cause and effect
      16. Problem and solution
      17. Deductive progression (from general to specific)
      18. Inductive progression (from specific to general)

      Thus the classical view is that you can do eighteen different things with paragraphs. But you can really do only sixteen, for the last two “functions,” inductive and deductive progressions, are patterns of organization instead.

4. What are the ways in which paragraphs can be organized?
      Paragraphs must meet the needs and expectations of their readers, which are depend on the way we read and process the printer word. Reading is like swallowing. As words are scanned by the eye, they enter a temporary repository in the brain (a mental “holding tank,” the analog of the mouth) where they accumulate until they can form a complete thought. The brain then latches onto that thought (“understands” it) and dumps it into a longer-term part of the brain along with others on the same subject (“swallows” it). This longer-term memory is also holding thoughts for later, larger-scale processing (acting as a sort of “supermouth”). When enough thoughts have been accumulated, the brain “comprehends” them as a group and dumps the higher-level thought up to the next level, and so forth.
      These mental holding tanks have limited capacities that can easily be exceeded. When the brain is forced to hold too much information in its active memory (much like a computer's RAM), it tires and begins to lose track of its contents. Thus it is very important not to require the brain to hold too much information in suspension, as it were, before telling the brain what to do with it, i.e., before signaling which part of the next level to dump it up to. In paragraphs, the way to do this is to offer the reader as early as possible a sense of where the paragraph is going. Of course, the degree of need for early orientation depends on factors such as the complexity of the material and the familiarity of the reader with the material. The harder it is for the reader to process the material of a paragraph, the more important it is for that paragraph to provide good orientation near its beginning.
      Of course, the same basic principles apply to the body of the paragraph as well. Because readers are constantly scanning, processing, and mapping, they need to know where they are at all times. Thus, effective paragraphs will be laced with cues to their internal structure, much like road maps for the brain. The longer the paragraphs and the more difficult or unfamiliar its material, the more important these signposts become.

      Large-scale structures of long paragraphs. A common way to orient the reader to the content of a paragraph is to have the first sentence introduce the idea or give the conclusion. This so-called topic sentence produces a very effective two-part structure composed of introduction and development. The introduction sets out the main idea of the paragraph; the rest of the paragraph develops it. Textbooks on composition commonly recommend this approach.
      Topic sentences can also be placed at other locations, provided the reason is good enough. If placed as the second or third sentence, they can provide a transition from an introductory section to the discussion. If placed at the end of the paragraph, they can inductively sum up that paragraph by helping the reader to “discover” the higher-level principle that explains everything (the answer). An inductive topic sentence can also be used to introduce subsequent paragraphs.
      In longer paragraphs, the introduction may routinely be composed of more than one sentence.[8] Joseph Williams[9] stresses that multisentence introductions can be as common as topic sentences. He calls these introductions (regardless of the number of sentences) the issue. The remaining several sentences he calls the discussion. The sentence that appears at the end of the introductory section and that summarizes the thrust of the entire paragraph he calls the point sentence, or the point for short. Inductive paragraphs, with the point sentence last, he calls the point-last structure.
      It is enlightening to examine the large-scale structures of actual classical paragraphs, which frequently differ from the recommended two-part form. In some cases, the paragraphs may just be too short to accommodate a topic sentence plus discussion, to say nothing of long issues, points, and elaborate discussions. In other cases, their contexts may be clear enough that an introduction is not needed. In some cases, they may be written so clearly that topic sentences would be superfluous. Often, however, clear topic sentences would improve the readability of a difficult paragraph.
      Here is an annotated passage from William James's The Varieties of Religious Experience, Lecture VIII—The divided self, and the process of its unification.[10] Notice the placement of the issue, the point, and the discussion in the long paragraphs.

   [Issue = first three sentences] The last lecture was a painful one, dealing as it did with evil as a pervasive element of the world we live in. At the close of it we were brought into full view of the contrast between the two ways of looking at life which are characteristic respectively of what we called the healthy-minded, who need to be born only once, and of the sick souls, who must be twice-born in order to be happy. [Point = last sentence of issue] The result is two different conceptions of the universe of our experience. [Discussion = next eight sentences] In the religion of the once-born the world is a sort of rectilinear or one-storied affair, whose accounts are kept in one denomination, whose parts have just the values which naturally they appear to have, and of which a simple algebraic sum of pluses and minuses will give the total worth. Happiness and religious peace consist in living on the plus side of the account. In the religion of the twice-born, on the other hand, the world is a double-storied mystery. Peace cannot be reached by the simple addition of pluses and elimination of minuses from life. Natural good is not simply insufficient in amount and transient, there lurks a falsity in its very being. Cancelled as it all is by death if not be earlier enemies, it gives no final balance, and can never be the thing intended for our lasting worship. It keeps us from our real good, rather; and renunciation and despair of it are our first step in the direction of the truth. There are two lives, the natural and the spiritual, and we must lose the one before we can participate in the other. [Note how discussion consists of two sentences for the simpler once-born and six for the more-complex twice born.]
   [One-sentence issue] In their extreme forms, of pure naturalism and pure salvationism, the two types are violently contrasted; though here as is most other current classifications, the radical extremes are somewhat ideal abstractions, and the concrete human beings whom we oftenest meet are intermediate varieties and mixtures. [One-sentence discussion] Practically, however, you all recognize the difference: you understand, for example, the disdain of the Methodist convert for the mere sky-blue healthy-minded moralist; and you likewise enter into the aversion of the latter to what seems to him the diseased subjectivism of the Methodist, dying to live, as he calls it, and making of paradox and the inversion of natural appearances the essence of God’s truth.
   [One-sentence introduction to following quote = topic sentence] The psychological basis of the twice-born character seems to be a certain discordancy or heterogeneity in the native temperament of the subject, an incompletely unified moral and intellectual constitution.

   [Issue] “Homo duplex, homo duplex!” writes Alphonse Daudet. [Discussion] “The first time that I perceived that I was two was at the death of my brother Henri, when my father cried out so dramatically, ‘He is dead, he is dead!’ While my first self wept, my second self thought, ‘How truly given was that cry, how fine it would be at the theatre.’ I was then fourteen years old.

   [Issue] “This horrible duality has often given me matter for reflection. [Discussion] Oh, this terrible second me, always seated whilst the other is on foot, acting, living, suffering, bestirring itself. This second me that I have never been able to intoxicate, to make shed tears, or put to sleep. And how it sees into things, and how it mocks!”

   [One-sentence issue] Recent works on the psychology of character have had much to say upon this point. [Three-sentence discussion, excluding final sentence] Some persons are born with an inner constitution which is harmonious and well balanced from the outset. Their impulses are consistent with one another, their will follows without trouble the guidance of their intellect, their passions are not excessive, and their lives are little haunted by regrets. Others are oppositely constituted; and are so in degrees which may vary from something so slight as to result in a merely odd or whimsical inconsistency, to a discordancy of which the consequences may be inconvenient in the extreme. [Introduction to quote] Of the more innocent kinds of heterogeneity I find a good example in Mrs. Annie Besant’s autobiography.

   [Issue] “I have ever been the queerest mixture of weakness and strength, and have paid heavily for the weakness. [Discussion] As a child I used to suffer tortures of shyness, and if my shoe-lace was untied would feel shamefacedly that every eye was fixed on the unlucky string; as a girl I would shrink away from strangers and think myself unwanted and unliked, so that I was full of eager gratitude to anyone who noticed me kindly; as the young mistress of a house I was afraid of my servants, and would let careless work pass rather than bear the pain of reproving the ill-doer; when I have been lecturing and debating with no lack of spirit on the platform, I have preferred to go without at the hotel rather than to ring and make the waiter fetch it. Combative on the platform in defense of any cause I cared for, I shrink from quarrel or disapproval in the house, and am a coward at heart in private while a good fighter in public. How often have I passed unhappy quarters of an hour screwing up my courage to find fault with some subordinate whom my duty compelled me to reprove, and how often have I jeered at myself for a fraud as the doughty platform combatant, when shrinking from blaming some lad or lass for doing their work badly. An unkind look or word has availed to make me shrink into myself as a snail into its shell, while, on the platform, opposition makes me speak my best.”

   [Issue] This amount of inconsistency will only count as amiable weakness; but a stronger degree of heterogeneity may make havoc of the subject’s life. [Discussion] There are persons whose existence is little more than a series of zigzags, as now one tendency and now another gets the upper hand. Their spirit wars with their flesh, they wish for incompatibles, wayward impulses interrupt their most deliberate plans, and their lives are one long drama of repentance and of effort to repair misdemeanors and mistakes.
   [Issue] Heterogeneous personality has been explained as the result of inheritance—the traits of character of incompatible and antagonistic ancestors are supposed to be preserved alongside of each other. This explanation may pass for what it is worth—it certainly needs corroboration. But whatever the cause of heterogeneous personality may be, we find the extreme examples of it in the psychopathic temperament, of which I spoke in my first lecture. [Discussion] All writers about that temperament make the inner heterogeneity prominent in their descriptions. Frequently, indeed, it is only this trait that leads us to ascribe that temperament to a man at all. A ‘dégénéré supérieure’ is simply a man of sensibility in many directions, who finds more difficulty than is common in keeping his spiritual house in order and running his furrow straight, because his feelings and impulses are too keen and too discrepant mutually. In the haunting and insistent ideas, in the irrational impulses, the morbid scruples, dreads, and inhibitions which beset the psychopathic temperament when it is thoroughly pronounced, we have exquisite examples of heterogeneous personality. Bunyan had an obsession of the words, “Sell Christ for this, sell him for that, sell him, sell him!” which would run through his mind a hundred times together, until one day out of breath with retorting, “I will not, I will not,” he impulsively said, “Let him go if he will,” and this loss of the battle kept him in despair for over a year. The lives of the saints are full of such blasphemous obsessions, ascribed invariably to the direct agency of Satan. The phenomenon connects itself with the life of the subconscious self, so-called, of which we must erelong speak more directly.

      Note that of these nine paragraphs, only the first contains the full structure of issue-point-discussion. Of the remaining eight, only the last has a multisentence issue. All seven other paragraphs just have topic sentences.
      Here is a shorter example of structure, a two-sentence paragraph from the editorial page of the International Herald Tribune of 17 September 1997:

   In the view of the Senate majority leader, Trent Lott, the offending figure in the failed nomination of William Weld to be ambassador to Mexico was not Foreign Relations Committee Chairman Jesse Helms, who arrogated to himself the constitutional power to advise and consent and refused to grant Mr. Weld even a hearing. Rather, the offender was the nominee, who had the effrontery to suggest that his arbitrary treatment at the hands of the chairman—the chairman's abuse of the Senate's anachronistic traditions, the Senate's sheeplike failure to assert itself against him—was unfair.

      This paragraph has a simple structure:

      1. Jesse Helms wasn’t the bad guy.
      2. Mr. Weld was.

      This short message serves as the issue for the rest of the editorial, which develops the ideas introduced here. The second sentence, indicting Weld, is the point sentence for the paragraph, and appears (temporarily) to be the point sentence for the editorial as a whole.
      More structure is seen in the concluding paragraph of this same editorial, which contains five summary sentences. The first two sentences note that neither the president nor Mr. Weld acted blamelessly. The third, of a transition nature, first notes the same for Mr. Helms, then begins to shift the commentary away from these individuals. The last two sentences form the real point of the entire editorial, namely that the serious blame goes to the Senate and its leadership.

   [Weld and Clinton deserve blame.] Mr. Weld may or may not have been the perfect choice for ambassador to Mexico, and yes, he did his share of grandstanding in the affair. The president tried to make a political point in nominating him, and Mr. Weld tried to make any number of political points of his own in fighting for the hearing he failed to receive. [Helms deserves blame.] In the end, what happened is not a commentary on him nor even, in our view, particularly a commentary on Mr. Helms, who behaved so predictably throughout as to be almost a caricature of himself. [But real blame goes to Senate and leadership.] The real test here was of the Senate and its leadership. Their performance was craven.

      Here is a set of paragraphs from Karl Popper’s “The Problem of Induction”[11]:

   [First sentence of issue.] For a brief formulation of the problem of induction we can turn to Born, who writes: ‘…no observation or experiment, however extended, can give more than a finite number of repetitions’; therefore ‘the statement of a law—B depends on A—always transcends experience. Yet this kind of statement is made everywhere and all the time, and sometimes from scanty material.’
   [Next three sentences of issue.] In other words, the logical problem of induction arises from (1) Hume’s discovery (so well expressed by Born) that it is impossible to justify a law by observation or experiment, since it ‘transcends experience’; (2) the fact that science proposes and uses laws ‘everywhere and all the time’. (Like Hume, Born is struck by the ‘scanty material’, i.e., the few observed instances upon which the law may be based.) To this we have to add (3) the principle of empiricism which asserts that in science only observation and experiment may decide upon the acceptance or rejection of scientific statements, including laws and theories.
   [Point—one sentence.] These three principles, (1), (2), and (3), appear at first sight to clash; and this apparent clash constitutes the logical problem of induction.
   [One sentence—discussion. Result of clash: Born gives up.] Faced with this clash, Born gives up (3), the principle of empiricism (as Kant and many others, including Bertrand Russell, have done before him), in favour of what he calls a ‘metaphysical principle’; a metaphysical principle which he does not even attempt to formulate; which he vaguely describes as a ‘code or rule of craft’; and of which I have never seen any formulation which even looked promising and was not clearly untenable.
   [Four sentences—more discussion. Born didn't have to give up. No real clash.] But in fact the principles (1) to (3) do not clash. We can see this the moment we realize that the acceptance by science of a law or of a theory is tentative only; which is to say that all laws and theories are conjectures, or tentative hypotheses (a position which I have sometimes called ‘hypotheticism’); and that we may reject a law or theory on the basis of new evidence, without necessarily discarding the old evidence which originally led us to accept it. (I do not doubt that Born and many others would agree that theories are accepted only tentatively. But the widespread belief in induction shows that the far-reaching implications of this view are rarely seen.)
   [Five sentences. Theories are not induced.] The principle of empiricism (3) can be fully preserved, since the fate of a theory, its acceptance or rejection, is decided by observation and experiment—by the results of tests. So long as a theory stands up to the severest tests we can design, it is accepted; if it does not, it is rejected. But it is never inferred, in any sense, from the empirical evidence. There is neither a psychological nor a logical induction. Only the falsity of the theory can be inferred from empirical evidence, and this inference is a purely deductive one.
   [Two sentences—theories can still be refuted by observations.] Hume showed that it is not possible to infer a theory from observation statements; but this does not affect the possibility of refuting a theory by observation statements. The full appreciation of this possibility makes the relation between theories and observations perfectly clear.
   [Summary statement.] This solves the problem of the alleged clash between the principles (1), (2), and (3), and with it Hume’s problem of induction.

      Note how short Popper's paragraphs are. In fact, each of them represents one part of a single classical paragraph—a four-sentence issue and a point sentence followed by 13 sentences of discussion. In other words, this whole section may be considered as just one long paragraph. Alternatively, it may be considered as seven shorter paragraphs comprising a single section of writing. But where is the dividing line between long paragraphs and short sections? No one can say. It’s a gray area.
      Is Popper’s choppy style of many short paragraphs to be preferred over fewer, longer paragraphs? The answer may depend on one’s tastes as much as anything. For the sake of comparison, the next page contains a one-paragraph version of Popper’s original text printed alongside the original. Readers are invited to read through both versions, first quickly and then more slowly, and see whether they prefer one version over the other. In particular, they may consider whether they agree with Matt Young’s statement that more paragraphs are always better than fewer.[12]

One big paragraph versus many little ones: A section from Karl Popper

        For a brief formulation of the problem of induction we can turn to Born, who writes: ‘…no observation or experiment, however extended, can give more than a finite number of repetitions’; therefore ‘the statement of a law—B depends on A—always transcends experience. Yet this kind of statement is made everywhere and all the time, and sometimes from scanty material.’

        In other words, the logical problem of induction arises from (1) Hume’s discovery (so well expressed by Born) that it is impossible to justify a law by observation or experiment, since it ‘transcends experience’; (2) the fact that science proposes and uses laws ‘everywhere and all the time’. (Like Hume, Born is struck by the ‘scanty material’, i.e., the few observed instances upon which the law may be based.) To this we have to add (3) the principle of empiricism which asserts that in science only observation and experiment may decide upon the acceptance or rejection of scientific statements, including laws and theories.

        These three principles, (1), (2), and (3), appear at first sight to clash; and this apparent clash constitutes the logical problem of induction.

        Faced with this clash, Born gives up (3), the principle of empiricism (as Kant and many others, including Bertrand Russell, have done before him), in favour of what he calls a ‘metaphysical principle’; a metaphysical principle which he does not even attempt to formulate; which he vaguely describes as a ‘code or rule of craft’; and of which I have never seen any formulation which even looked promising and was not clearly untenable.

        But in fact the principles (1) to (3) do not clash. We can see this the moment we realize that the acceptance by science of a law or of a theory is tentative only; which is to say that all laws and theories are conjectures, or tentative hypotheses (a position which I have sometimes called “hypotheticism’); and that we may reject a law or theory on the basis of new evidence, without necessarily discarding the old evidence which originally led us to accept it. (I do not doubt that Born and many others would agree that theories are accepted only tentatively. But the widespread belief in induction shows that the far-reaching implications of this view are rarely seen.)

        The principle of empiricism (3) can be fully preserved, since the fate of a theory, its acceptance or rejection, is decided by observation and experiment—by the results of tests. So long as a theory stands up to the severest tests we can design, it is accepted; if it does not, it is rejected. But it is never inferred, in any sense, from the empirical evidence. There is neither a psychological nor a logical induction. Only the falsity of the theory can be inferred from empirical evidence, and this inference is a purely deductive one.

        Hume showed that it is not possible to infer a theory from observation statements; but this does not affect the possibility of refuting a theory by observation statements. The full appreciation of this possibility makes the relation between theories and observations perfectly clear.

        This solves the problem of the alleged clash between the principles (1), (2), and (3), and with it Hume’s problem of induction.

        For a brief formulation of the problem of induction we can turn to Born, who writes: ‘…no observation or experiment, however extended, can give more than a finite number of repetitions’; therefore ‘the statement of a law—B depends on A—always transcends experience. Yet this kind of statement is made everywhere and all the time, and sometimes from scanty material.’ In other words, the logical problem of induction arises from (1) Hume’s discovery (so well expressed by Born) that it is impossible to justify a law by observation or experiment, since it ‘transcends experience’; (2) the fact that science proposes and uses laws ‘everywhere and all the time’. (Like Hume, Born is struck by the ‘scanty material’, i.e., the few observed instances upon which the law may be based.) To this we have to add (3) the principle of empiricism which asserts that in science only observation and experiment may decide upon the acceptance or rejection of scientific statements, including laws and theories. These three principles, (1), (2), and (3), appear at first sight to clash; and this apparent clash constitutes the logical problem of induction. Faced with this clash, Born gives up (3), the principle of empiricism (as Kant and many others, including Bertrand Russell, have done before him), in favour of what he calls a ‘metaphysical principle’; a metaphysical principle which he does not even attempt to formulate; which he vaguely describes as a ‘code or rule of craft’; and of which I have never seen any formulation which even looked promising and was not clearly untenable. But in fact the principles (1) to (3) do not clash. We can see this the moment we realize that the acceptance by science of a law or of a theory is tentative only; which is to say that all laws and theories are conjectures, or tentative hypotheses (a position which I have sometimes called “hypotheticism’); and that we may reject a law or theory on the basis of new evidence, without necessarily discarding the old evidence which originally led us to accept it. (I do not doubt that Born and many others would agree that theories are accepted only tentatively. But the widespread belief in induction shows that the far-reaching implications of this view are rarely seen.) The principle of empiricism (3) can be fully preserved, since the fate of a theory, its acceptance or rejection, is decided by observation and experiment—by the results of tests. So long as a theory stands up to the severest tests we can design, it is accepted; if it does not, it is rejected. But it is never inferred, in any sense, from the empirical evidence. There is neither a psychological nor a logical induction. Only the falsity of the theory can be inferred from empirical evidence, and this inference is a purely deductive one. Hume showed that it is not possible to infer a theory from observation statements; but this does not affect the possibility of refuting a theory by observation statements. The full appreciation of this possibility makes the relation between theories and observations perfectly clear. This solves the problem of the alleged clash between the principles (1), (2), and (3), and with it Hume’s problem of induction.

      Here is a long paragraph from Cornel West’s Race Matters[13]:

   [Topic sentence.] If most black leaders had adopted a prophetic framework of moral reasoning rather than a narrow framework of racial reasoning, the debate over the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill hearings would have proceeded in a quite different manner in black America. [Discussion (of Thomas and Hill).] For example, both Thomas and Hill would be viewed as two black Republican conservative supporters of some of the most vicious policies to besiege black working and poor communities since Jim and Jane Crow segregation. Both Thomas and Hill supported an unprecedented redistribution of wealth from working people to well-to-do people in the form of regressive taxation, deregulation policies, cutbacks and slowdowns in public service programs, take-backs at the negotiation table between workers and management, and military buildups at the Pentagon. Both Thomas and Hill supported the unleashing of unbridled capitalist market forces on a level never witnessed in the United States before that have devastated black working and poor communities. [Shift to discussion of market forces.] These market forces took the principal form of unregulated corporative and financial expansion and intense entrepreneurial activity. This tremendous ferment in big and small businesses—including enormous bonanzas in speculation, leveraged buyouts and mergers, as well as high levels of corruption and graft—contributed to a new kind of culture of consumption in white and black America. Never before has the seductive market way of life held such sway in nearly every sphere of American life. This market way of life promotes addictions to stimulation and obsessions with comfort and convenience. Addictions and obsessions—centered primarily around bodily pleasures and status rankings—constitute market moralities of various sorts. The common denominator is a rugged individualism and rapacious hedonism in quest of a perennial “high” in body and mind.

      The first sentence of this paragraph resembles a topic sentence and appears to function like one except that it is too general. By mentioning the Thomas/Hill hearings in general terms, it does not prepare the reader for any of the specific themes to follow. When the next sentences focus on Thomas and Hill, the reader expects them to remain the focus of the discussion. Thus when the discussion turns abruptly to the evils of market forces a few sentences later, the reader suddenly feels cut adrift.
      Thus the examples of literary and journalistic writing shown in this section have revealed that the classical two-part structure of paragraphs espoused by textbooks in composition is violated as much as it is followed.

      Smaller-scale structures in shorter paragraphs. We have just seen that long paragraphs can have well-defined large-scale structures. But paragraphs that long are usually restricted to the literary and scientific worlds—they do not represent what most of us write most of the time. We produce shorter paragraphs because we do not have the luxury of crafting deep, ornate thoughts in this busy world where we live and work. Our paragraphs are typically 3–5 sentences long. That does not allow us to use a pure topic sentence whose material will be repeated and elaborated in the rest of the paragraph. Instead, we have to make the first sentence work, that is, to be an organic part of the paragraph.
      How to do this? The usually solution is to make the first sentence general, a sort of implied topic sentence that both introduces the topic and says something about it. The rest of the paragraph then considers smaller aspects of the topic.
      How are those remaining sentences organized? There are three main ways: increasingly narrow (deductive), equal-level (parallel), and equal-level followed by broader conclusion (inductive). Of these the deductive arrangement is the most common.
      A deductive paragraph looks like this:

      1. _____
            2. ________
                  3. ________
                        4. ________

where each level of indentation means a narrower focus of the sentence.
      A parallel paragraph (with a broader first sentence) looks like this:

      1. ______
            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______

      If you don’t have the space for an introductory sentence, you can just jump right into the parallel sentences:

            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______

      A parallel paragraph with a broader concluding sentence, which usually draws some sort of conclusion, is an inductive paragraph. We like to think that scientists write that way a lot, but they certainly have no corner on this market.

            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______
            2. _______
      1. ________

      This inductive paragraph would function as follows:

            2. Small point #1.
            2. Small point #2.
            2. Small point #3.
            2. Small point #4.
      1. Broader conclusion drawn from the small points.

      One has to be very careful with inductive reasoning, as shown by this simple example of the way a young child in Wales might think.

            2. My mother speaks Welsh.
            2. My father speaks Welsh.
            2. My brother and sisters speak Welsh.
            2. My friends and relatives speak Welsh.
      1. So everybody speaks Welsh.

      [There is one other type of paragraph that is very common: the story. While one might be tempted to think that these serial sentences make a different king of paragraphic structure (which we might call serial), I think they are actually deductive, because each successive sentence represents a narrowing of the field of possible events. After the events of the first sentence could come many other possible events, of which the second sentence represents one. After the second sentence could come many other events, etc.]
      Here is a simple deductive paragraph on the possibility of earthquakes in British Columbia (from the National Geographic):

      “Across the Canadian border Vancouver and other cities in British Columbia are also facing the unfamiliar. The possibility of subduction quakes has sent earthquake insurance rates soaring in some locations. Emergency planners are struggling to alert residents to the hazard.”

      Its structure looks like this:

      1. (General) Across the Canadian border Vancouver and other cities in British Columbia are also facing the unfamiliar.
            2. (“Unfamiliar” defined) The possibility of subduction quakes has sent earthquake insurance rates soaring in some locations.
                  3. (Consequence of the unfamiliar threat) Emergency planners are struggling to alert residents to the hazard.

      Here is a simple parallel paragraph, with a descriptive function.

      “ It was rolling in at a huge speed. Its height seemed to magnify its green-blue color and give it a menacing cast. It was longer than five football fields. And it had sound—it roared at me.”

      Its structure looks like this:

      1. It was the biggest wave I had ever seen.
      1. Its height seemed to magnify its green-blue color and give it a menacing cast.
      1. It was longer than five football fields.
      1. And it had sound—it roared at me.

      Here is a simple inductive paragraph composed of a series of observations followed by a broader conclusion.

      It turns toward the sun by day. It closes up after dark. It produces pesticides to repel enemies that might eat it. It reproduces itself. It must be alive.

      Its structure looks like this:

            2. It turns toward the sun by day.
            2. It closes up after dark.
            2. It produces pesticides to repel enemies that might eat it.
            2. It reproduces itself.
      1. It must be alive.

      Just for fun, here is an inductive paragraph with a bad conclusion.

            2. The earth releases water and carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and so produces a greenhouse effect that makes life possible.
            2. The earth system is full of stabilizing effects (negative feedbacks) that keep its conditions within the ranges necessary for life as we know it.
      1. The earth as a system must be alive.

      The moral? Form does not always make substance.

      Complex structures. Not all paragraphs are purely deductive, inductive, or parallel, however. Many combine two of the structures, especially the longer paragraphs. Paragraphs with complex structures represent a real challenge to the writer, who needs both to keep the complexity and make the paragraph as readable as possible. If you have to stop in the middle of a paragraph and go back to clarify something, it’s a good bet that the paragraph needs to be worked on.
      Here is an example of a short paragraph that is complex:

      When Brown admission officers come across a homeschooler’s application, they look for evidence of good writing skills and some sort of “outside assessment,” such as courses taken at a community college or standardized test scores. “We take recommendations from family members with a grain of salt,” Michael Goldberger says. Otherwise the evaluation process for homeschoolers is not much different from that of other applicants. “We always look at each kid in the context of where they came from. whether it’s a small, rural public high school or a sophisticated private school,” Goldberger says. “In a homeschool situation, our approach is, let’s see what they give us and go from there.”

      Its structure is:

      1. When Brown admission officers come across a homeschooler’s application, they look for evidence of good writing skills and some sort of “outside assessment,” such as courses taken at a community college or standardized test scores.

            2. “We take recommendations from family members with a grain of salt,” Michael Goldberger says.

      1. Otherwise the evaluation process for homeschoolers is not much different from that of other applicants.

            2. “We always look at each kid in the context of where they came from. whether it’s a small, rural public high school or a sophisticated private school,” Goldberger says.

                  3. “In a homeschool situation, our approach is, let’s see what they give us and go from there.”

      This paragraph is two deductive structures placed in sequence.
      Here is similar paragraph, with six sentences instead of five:

      Upton Sinclair was part of a literary tradition that captivated American readers in the early twentieth century. President Theodore Roosevelt gave the movement its name—“muckraking.” He had adopted the word from John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, which portrayed a man armed with a “muckrake” to sweep up the filth around him while he remained unaware of the celestial glory above his head. Muckraking was born form the historical marriage of the Progressive movement and the professionalization of journalism. Sinclair, Ida Tarbell, Lincoln Steffens, and others considered themselves dispassionate observers of the American scene. Their job was to report what they saw, and their works fed the progressive spirit that called for reform.

      Its structure combines two three-sentence deductive units (1, 2, 3 and 2, 3, 4):

      1. Upton Sinclair was part of a literary tradition that captivated American readers in the early twentieth century.

            2. President Theodore Roosevelt gave the movement its name—“muckraking.”

                  3. He had adopted the word from John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, which portrayed a man armed with a “muckrake” to sweep up the filth around him while he remained unaware of the celestial glory above his head.

            2. Muckraking was born from the historical marriage of the Progressive movement and the professionalization of journalism.

                  3. Sinclair, Ida Tarbell, Lincoln Steffens, and others considered themselves dispassionate observers of the American scene.

                  4. Their job was to report what they saw, and their works fed the progressive spirit that called for reform.

      Here is a longer paragraph that is more complex:

      Human beings survive as a species because we flock together. After a tragedy, families and communities draw closer. We reach out and hold onto each other. This is why we touch, and why we love. For the same instinctive reason, we gather our memories and cherish them. Pools of community memory gain depth and power over lifetimes. They allow us to reflect, to project and to carry our understanding beyond the here and the now. If you believe that earth’s living memories should live on—both the human record and the natural record—then you have to believe that efforts like the All Species Foundation and the Internet Archive really matter. But it is still a shock to many that such intrepid enterprises have scarcely begun.

      Here is its structure:

      1. Human beings survive as a species because we flock together.

            2. After a tragedy, families and communities draw closer.

                  3. We reach out and hold onto each other.

            2. This is why we touch, and why we love.

            2. For the same instinctive reason, we gather our memories and cherish them.

            2. Pools of community memory gain depth and power over lifetimes.

                  3. They allow us to reflect, to project and to carry our understanding beyond the here and the now.

            2. If you believe that earth’s living memories should live on—both the human record and the natural record—then you have to believe that efforts like the All Species Foundation and the Internet Archive really matter.

            2. But it is still a shock to many that such intrepid enterprises have scarcely begun.

      This paragraph is a complex mixture of deductive and parallel structures.

5. How can I know when to start a new paragraph?
      Simple—you start a new paragraph when you have finished a thought. It may be after one sentence or twenty—it doesn’t matter.
      To show you how this works, I have assembled some groups of paragraphs from styles of writing that range from short paragraphs to long paragraphs. I will give you an example of each and follow it with a similar example where you have to choose the beginnings of new paragraphs. I call this little game “Guess the paragraphs.”

Example from E-mail (message from WGBH):

Dear Kenneth Rahn,

      Now, there's a quick, efficient, hassle-free way to renew your WGBH membership, which expired yesterday, January 31st.
      Just visit http://unitymail.wgbh.org:80/UM/T.asp?A2.42.374.1.58965. The WGBH Web site uses state-of-the-art security so you can take advantage of the ease and convenience of renewing your membership online.
      Simply charge your renewal contribution, choose from a variety of thank-you gifts, and we'll extend all of your WGBH member benefits for another year. When you renew, I hope you will consider matching your last membership gift of $80.
      Once you've completed your renewal be sure to check out your favorite WGBH programs online.
      If you've already renewed your membership, many thanks! If not, just click on http://unitymail.wgbh.org:80/UM/T.asp?A2.42.374.1.58965, renew online then relax and enjoy the great programs on WGBH TV and Radio.

Sincerely,

Mary Ellen Mullaney
WGBH Membership Office & Fellow WGBH Member

Guess the paragraphs in E-mail—Messages between J. Oxley (URI Chemistry Department) and K. Rahn:

Dear Ken,

Can you give your Kennedy assassination talk Tuesday Feb 26 to my Intro to Criminalistics Class? It will be a new group of people who won't have heard you the last time—so it can be the same talk. 3:30 to 5 pm in Pastore 234. Thanks, Jimmie

*****

Jimmie,

The short answer is yes. The longer answer is that I am usually occupied on Tuesday afternoons, but will rearrange my schedule for that day. You are also lucky in that Larry Sturdivan (HSCA ballistics guru) and I have just submitted an article to JFS on the subject, which I can use as the outline for a shorter talk, and maybe even in PowerPoint if we get really ambitious. I presented the subject at a JFK meeting last November, and have horror stories to relate if the students are interested. Ken

*****

Fantastic! We are using the Saferstein text book—under Inorganic Analysis the topics listed are the JFK assassination & analysis—I thought you would be perfect for this. Thank you. Jimmie

*****

Jimmie,

      If memory serves correctly, it was that same passage that first introduced me to the role of NAA in the JFK assassination. Will there be a computer projector available for the class in case we can get a PowerPoint version ready? How many are in the class? Ken

Example from newspapers:

Officials fear U.S. may face ‘more deadly’ terror attacks

Providence Journal-Bulletin, 1 February 2002

      WASHINGTON (AP)—The United States could face terrorist surprises “vastly more deadly” than the Sept. 11 attacks that killed more than 3,000 people, Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld said yesterday. The FBI said the nation would remain on a state of high alert for some time.
      The administration’s cautionary language was supported by new information about potential threats to nuclear plants and dams and the water supply system. Much of it came from interrogations of al-Qaida suspects in U.S. custody.
      Rumsfeld said the magnitude of danger will grow if terrorists are allowed to link up with what the administration regards as rogue nations willing to provide them with nuclear weapons.
      “These attacks could grow vastly more deadly than those we suffered,” he said in a speech at the National Defense University, a graduate school for senior military officers and government officials.
      Rumsfeld said terrorists who managed to get unconventional weapons and deliver them great distances could kill hundreds of thousands of Americans. He suggested that the answer to such threats may be pre-emptive strikes.
      “The best, and in some cases, the only defense, is a good offense,” he said, since the New York and Pentagon attacks showed it is not possible to defend against every conceivable threat.
      Separately, government officials said nuclear power plant operators were alerted last week that terrorists might be planning an airplane attack on a reactor. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission based its alert on information from an al-Qaida operative, the officials said. Later the commission followed up with an advisory stating that the information had not bee authenticated.
      The alert said “the attack was already planned” and three people already “on the ground” were trying to recruit non-Arabs to take part, one official said, speaking on condition of anonymity.
      FBI Director Robert S. Mueller said he believes there are “sleeper cells” of terrorists waiting for word to attack, and thus the nation remains on high alert. He said information about possible threats to America has emerged from interviews with captured al-Qaida fighters and an enormous cache of documents, videotapes, and other materials recovered in Afghanistan and elsewhere.
      Rumsfeld’s remarks coincided with new indications that terrorists have considered a range of possible attacks. The FBI warned on Wednesday that al-Qaida terrorists may have been studying U.S. dams and water-supply systems in preparation for new attacks. And in a report to Congress made public Wednesday, CIA Director George Tenet said rudimentary diagrams of nuclear weapons were found in a suspected al-Qaida safe house in Kabul, Afghanistan. Other evidence includes diagrams of U.S. nuclear power plants, although it is unclear if an attack was planned.
      And even as those officials were issuing their warnings, CNN was airing a previously unbroadcast interview with Osama bin Laden, done in late October, in which he said the United States war on terrorism was leading the American people “into an unbearable hell and a choking life.”
      CNN said it obtained the interview, done by the Arabic language Al-Jazeera television network, “from a non-governmental source.”
      Bin Laden wore camouflage fatigues and spoke without emotion as he told his interviewer that killing innocent civilians “is permissible in Islamic law.”
      And he painted a grim future for Americans.
      “I tell you, freedom and human rights in America are doomed. The U.S. government will lead the American people and the West in general into an unbearable hell and a choking life.”
      The interview, which CNN said was 60 minutes long, was believed to have been the first done after the Sept. 11 attacks and shows bin Laden justifying the killing of innocent Americans.
      “We kill the kings of the infidels, kings of the crusaders and civilian infidels in exchange for those of our children they kill. This is permissible under Islamic law and logically.”
      The Al-Jazeera interviewer interrupts to ask if bin Laden means to say it was appropriate to kill innocent people in retribution against those who “kill our innocents.”
      The al-Qaida leader responds:
      “So we kill their innocents, and I say it is permissible in Islamic law and logic.”

Guess the paragraphs from newspapers:

NEW ORLEANS—His team is a two-touchdown underdog in Sunday’s Super Bowl. His starting quarterback is recovering from a sprained ankle, and his favorite player is nursing a bruised ego. These are minor problems, however, for life is good for Robert Kraft, owner of the Patriots. Never been better, in fact. Not even close. Who wouldn’t want to trade places with Kraft right now? His team could claim its first championship this weekend. A new stadium, judged by many to be the finest football facility ever built, opens in a matter of months. That stadium, like the one it’s replacing, is sold out every week, with a waiting list in excess of 40,000. The sports landscape in New England has been barren of late, with no championships won since 1986. But Kraft’s Patriots represent hope for a beleaguered region. Once the poor stepsister, the Pats now are the late-blooming beauty. For this, you have Robert Kraft to thank. It was Kraft who saved the team from being moved to, of all places, St. Louis. It was Kraft who insisted on hiring Bill Belichick. And it was Kraft who personally and privately financed CMGi field, the state-of-the-art venue now nearing completion on Route 1. He’s that rarity of rarities, a likeable owner. He doesn’t cower under his desk the way CEO John Harrington did as the Red Sox collapsed under the weight of egos, selfishness and mismanagement. He doesn’t watch his investment from the safety of Buffalo, the way absentee landlord Jeremy Jacobs does. No, Kraft never is hard to find. He’s there on the sidelines, win or lose. He’s answering questions when there’s trouble, beaming with satisfaction on the field as his team won its second conference championship in five seasons last weekend. For a man who can quickly put his hands on hundreds of millions of dollars, Kraft has a distinctly common touch. Perhaps that comes from sitting in the stands, Section 217, Row 23, for all those years. Kraft didn’t have to sit in on a focus group to hear about the traffic, rowdyism, or the brutally unforgiving aluminum benches of Foxboro Stadium. He had experienced them himself firsthand. When fans and ticket-holders write to him, they receive a response; Kraft personally answers all his own mail. When he talks about the Patriots being a community asset, it isn’t some hollow platitude; he means it. If original owner Billy Sullivan gets credit for birthing the Patriots and steering them through their at-times traumatic formative years, Kraft has finished the parenting chores nicely, overseeing their newfound maturity. Take a look around the NFL and find another owner both as successful and popular. Art Modell may be the toast of Baltimore, but he literally won’t return to Cleveland for fear of his safety. The Glazer family in Tampa Bay recently found itself chewed up and spit out whole by the coaching enigma named Bill Parcells. Daniel Snyder, outsized ego and all, is employing his fourth coach since taking over the Washington Redskins. Kraft didn’t push any panic buttons when the Pats went 5-11 last season, Belichick’s first, and he remained resolute when Season No. 2 began 1-3. He has quietly emerged as a league power broker in that most exclusive of clubs, the Loyal Order of NFL Owners, and yet he doesn’t ignore the welfare of his own club, as Harrington did too frequently in his last years on Yawkey Way. There was a time when Kraft appeared a little too eager. He would materialize when the cameras did, and his hand-shaking byplay with fans seemed a little contrived. But now he’s struck the proper balance—present, not ubiquitous; involved, not overbearing. Not very long ago, he had paid more money than anyone ever had for a pro sports franchise, and given that his purchase netted him arguably the NFL’s most star-crossed franchise, there was reason to question the wisdom of his investment. He lost Parcells, his high-profile coach, during preparation for Super Bowl week in an ugly case of abandonment, then watched as the team slowly unraveled under Parcells’s replacement. While other owners were having municipalities construct their new stadiums (“Anything else you’d like, Mr. Davis?”), Kraft paid out of his own pocket, only after flopping with South Boston and flirting with Hartford. This year has signaled a reversal of fortune. An inexperienced second-year quarterback rescued them from a poor start and the loss of Drew Bledsoe. Two weeks ago, the old stadium closed down with what surely will be regarded as one of the most memorable events in the history of Boston sports. You couldn’t make some of this stuff up. Still, Kraft refuses to gloat. Earlier this week, he wouldn’t get drawn into criticism of Parcells’s abrupt and ill-timed departure five years ago, preferring to praise his former coach’s impact on the franchise’s credibility. Why crawl around in the mud when you have to come down from the top of the world to do it? As he chatted with reporters Wednesday, Kraft noted that, given the mood of the country and the festivities planned for the weekend, his team and its red, white and blue colors never were more fashionable. “It’s a good time to be a patriot,” he beamed, in a bit of word play. It’s an even better time to be their owner.

We must thank Kraft for restoring our hope
Sean McAdam
Providence Journal-Bulletin, 1 February 2002

Example from magazines:

Feb. 5—Paul Saffo, at the Institute for the Future, likes to say that Americans overestimate the impact of technology in the short-term and underestimate it in the long-term. And by any measure, we certainly did a good job overestimating the impact of the Internet in recent years. (NASDAQ at 5000? Mission accomplished!) But what really intrigues me is the other side of Saffo’s observation. What is America underestimating? What’s going to emerge from the Internet that’s really going to surprise us—for better or for worse—in years to come?
      A clever new service called Copytalk may provide a hint. Intended for road-warrior types often away from their keyboards, Copytalk lets you dictate e-mail over your cell phone; then, in a matter of hours your words are transcribed into text and delivered to whomever you specify. Or you can dictate a series of appointments—names, addresses, times, whatever you want—and the next time you synchronize your Palm handheld with your desktop computer, all the notes will appear in your PDA’s calendar. What’s smart about Copytalk is that it uses the most dependable form of voice recognition available—real human beings. But what’s amazing is that through technical wizardry involving audio compression and the Internet, all of the listening, transcribing and e-mailing is done by workers in the city of Chennai, in southeastern India.
      In short: you’re standing on a sidewalk in, say, Oklahoma City with your cell phone, verbally composing a message to your friend—and someone in India is taking your dictation and sending the e-mail. If that doesn’t amaze you, then your sense of wonder has been permanently damaged by science fiction. And—judging from the reviews praising Copytalk’s accuracy and spelling—it sounds like the Indians are doing a better job of taking dictation than you’re likely to get from the average American.
      Copytalk is an unusually direct example of an accelerating trend. The Internet is making it possible for all kinds of “back office” and technical jobs to move to places like Ireland, the Caribbean, India, China, Russia, and Pakistan. And it’s hard to see why this flow of work won’t continue and even accelerate as long as the Internet improves and the overseas workforce grows more educated.
      And they will grow more educated. A few years ago I helped with a book project called “24 Hours in Cyberspace” that provided a snapshot of how, over the course of a single day, the Internet was changing people’s lives around the world. What struck me then was that while the Unites States and Western Europe had plenty of weird anecdotes—cab drivers on Webcams and so forth—the truly life-transforming stories came from the developing world. I remember a hairdresser in Peru who became a major stylist in her city by using the Internet to download and print fashion show photos from couture industry sites in France. She then duplicated the hairstyles for her clientele the next day, months before the glossy fashion magazines arrived in South America.
      Unless you’re a hair stylist, that may sound trivial, but it’s indicative of a larger trend: the democratization of information. In the ’80s, for example, the computer language C++ was the hot language you needed to land a job in Silicon Valley. When C++ primers were published, programmers here would buy ten copies to airfreight to their friends in Europe—because the books weren’t available there for another few months. And as far as finding copies in southeast Asia or northern India—you could forget it. Today, by contrast, Java is the new must-have programming language—and you can access the same Java tutorials on the Internet anywhere from Milwaukee to Malaysia.
      The Internet is emerging as the great equalizer in the world information economy, making all sorts of opportunities available to hundreds of millions of bright minds who were previously shut out. We’ve seen it in our own office. A few years ago the NEWSWEEK team was developing a Web application for which we needed a particularly tricky little piece of software written. Our lead programmer wasn’t sure he could do it and hired a freelancer. Two weeks later, the code came in; it was clever, compact and worked perfectly. But when I asked if I could meet this talented fellow, my employee looked a little uncomfortable. “I don’t think so,” he said. “He, uh, kind of lives in Moscow.” The young programmer had done what seemed natural to him—went out on the Web, shopped around and picked the best contractor at the lowest price.
      Of course, the day may come when it’s not just a matter of lower cost, but that the United States no longer has the technical talent within its own borders to supply its needs. John Paulos, a Temple University mathematician, has warned in books like “Innumeracy” that the United States puts itself in dire economic peril by ignoring mathematics education. The U.S. system too often lets kids stop learning math at an early age if they don’t like it—and thus many students end up inadvertently cutting off the option of technical careers. As a society, America ends up with lots of business people but relatively few engineers who can actually build advanced products or write sophisticated software.
      So here’s one Internet impact that we might be underestimating: if the United States doesn’t fix its math-challenged educational system, then the Internet will solve the problem, by providing access to millions of technically-adept workers in other countries. In the end it might turn out that the information highway America invented funnels many of the nation’s best jobs and associated dollars overseas. And then someday, could it be that workers in Oklahoma City will be taking dictation for Chennai?

The Practical Futurist—Michael Rogers
Chennai, Take a Letter
Will the Internet Cost America Jobs?

© 2002 Newsweek, Inc.

Guess the paragraph from magazines:

[PARENTS WEEKEND] Christopher Reeve, the actor and quadriplegic, wheeled onto the Salomon Center stage on a Friday night in late October to a long round of enthusiastic applause. The auditorium was filled to capacity with students and their parents, who had just arrived for Parents Weekend. Reeve, the father of Matthew ’02, delivered the weekend’s keynote address. “As parents,” he said, “we all have different ideas of what success means for our children.” Some parents are happy if their kids don’t panhandle or join a cult, he said, while others are satisfied only if they raise rocket scientists. Reeve believes it’s most important for children to find a passion that can sustain them when they face adversity. Reeve, who was paralyzed after an equestrian accident in 1995, said it is his passion for acting that gets him through the times when he thinks, “Why am I sitting in this wheelchair? Why me?” “There are certain things that I can’t do,” he said, “but I am very glad that I can look back and say, ‘I did find something that I was really passionate about.’” Reeve said he admires the courage of young adults who admit they’re still searching for the right career: “I think we as parents have to have the courage, really the generosity, to say” ‘Okay. I’m behind you. We support you in this.’” During a question-and-answer period after his speech, Reeve talked about something else he’s passionate about: human embryonic stem-cell research. “In the absence of strong leadership from the government,” he said, there must be a grassroots movement demanding such controversial research. “Otherwise,” he said, “it will be done overseas, and we’ll become a second- or third-rate country in research.” He also gave advice to a wheelchair-bound student on how to improve wheelchair-accessibility at Brown. The best way to effect change at an inaccessible restaurant or theater, he said, is simply to show up. Once he went to a New York City restaurant, realized he couldn’t wheel in, and waited at the front door. The manager came out, and Reeve said, “You know, I really would have liked to have dinner here. Maybe next time.” A few months later, there was a wheelchair ramp. “So it’s sort of like a one-man guerrilla force,” he said. Reeve concluded by urging parents and students to consider the possibility that on the way out the door, any one of them could slip and fall—and end up in a wheelchair. “The world is a very random place,” he said. “Anything could happen to any of us. So doesn’t that make us equals?…We’re all the same spirit in different bodies, that’s all.”—EMILY GOLD

Success Story
Advice to parents from Christopher Reeve
Brown Alumni Magazine, January/February 2002

Example from books:

      After the delegates to the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia submitted the proposed Constitution to the states for ratification, some states, including Delaware, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, approved the document almost immediately. In others, however, delegates to the ratification conventions battled over the division of power between the central government and the states. Two factions formed, the Federalists and the Antifederalists. The Federalists, who favored the strong central government called for by the proposed Constitution, were generally men of property, professionals, and merchants. The Antifederalists tended to be small farmers or men who owed substantial debts. Among their chief concerns was that the Constitution would nullify the independence of the states. Even the document’s first phrase, “We the people of the United States,” caused concern among the Antifederalists and prompted Samuel Adams to remark, “As I enter the Building, I stumble at the Threshold.”
      The most cogent defense of the Constitution was provided by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, who together produced the “Federalist Papers” under the collective pen name of Publius. Hamilton wrote fifty-one of the Federalist essays, Madison twenty-nine, and Jay five. Printed in New York newspapers between October 1787 and April 1788, and issued as a book in the spring of 1788, the eighty-five essays had a strong effect on members of New York’s ratification convention. The essays brilliantly defended the Constitution, the single most famous defense being Madison’s in essay number ten. Madison addressed the Antifederalist concern that the country was too large for an effective central government, arguing that the size of the country was precisely the reason republicanism would flourish: the various needs and interests of citizens spread over a large area would prevent a single special interest from gaining control.
      Outside their immediate influence on the New York convention, the articles probably did little to sway the public opinion of the day. But published in book form, they were widely read over time with a growing respect for their acute analysis and masterful interpretation of the Constitution, becoming a touchstone for those who wished to understand well the principles upon which the government of the United States was established.

From What Every American Should Know About American History
Dr. Alan Axelrod and Charles Phillips
Adams Media Corporation, 1992.

Guess the paragraphs from books:

      Ask yourself what would happen to your own personality if you heard it over and over again that you were lazy, a simple child of nature, expected to steal, and had inferior blood. Suppose this opinion were forced on you by the majority of your fellow-citizens. And suppose nothing that you could do would change this opinion—because you happen to have black skin. Or suppose you heard daily that you were expected to be shrewd, sharp, and successful in business, that you were not wanted in clubs and hotels, that you were expected to mingle only with Jews and then, if you did so, were roundly blamed for it. And suppose nothing you could do would change this opinion—because you happened to be a Jew. One’s reputation, whether false or true, cannot be hammered, hammered, hammered, into one’s head without doing something to one’s character. A child who finds himself rejected and attacked on all sides is not likely to develop dignity and poise as his outstanding traits. On the contrary, he develops defenses. Like a dwarf in a world of menacing giants, he cannot fight on equal terms. He is forced to listen to their derision and laughter and submit to their abuse. There are a great many things such a dwarf-child may do, all of them serving as his ego defenses. He may withdraw into himself. speaking little to the giants and never honestly. He may band together with other dwarfs, sticking close to them for comfort and self-respect. He may try to cheat the giants when he can and thus have a taste of sweet revenge. He may in desperation occasionally push some giant off the sidewalk or throw a rock at him when it is safe to do so. Or he may out of despair find himself acting the part that the giant expects, and gradually grow to share his mater’s own uncomplimentary view of dwarfs. His natural self-love may, under the persistent blows of contempt, turn his spirit to cringing and self-hate.

Selection from Chapter 9 of The Nature Of Prejudice, by Gordon W. Allport
Doubleday/Anchor, 1958

6. How can I make my paragraphs most effective?

      Here are some basic principles of writing clear, effective paragraphs.

1. Begin most paragraphs with a general sentence rather than a classical topic sentence.

2. Make your sentences flow logically, usually from broad to narrow.

3. Insert cues along the way whenever they can help a transition.

4. Give parallel structures to sentences with parallel thoughts.

5. Keep sentences short and simple unless you know the principles of longer sentences.

6. Insert closing sentences only when really needed.

      We will illustrate these principles with paragraphs that you write. Good luck!

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