Love in a godless universe

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Feb 15 JDN 2461087

This post will go live just after Valentine’s Day, so I thought I would write this week about love.

(Of course I’ve written about love before, often around this time of year.)

Many religions teach that love is a gift from God, perhaps the greatest of all such gifts; indeed, some even say “God is love” (though I confess I have never been entirely sure what that sentence is intended to mean). But if there is no God, what is love? Does it still have meaning?

I believe that it does.

Yes, there is a cynical account of love often associated with atheism, which is that it is “just a chemical reaction” or “just an evolved behavior”. (An easy way to look out for this sort of cynical account is to look for the word “just”.)

Well, if love is a chemical reaction, so is consciousness—indeed the two seem very deeply related. I suppose a being can be conscious without being capable of love (do psychopaths qualify?), but I certainly do not think a being can be capable of love without being conscious.

Indeed, I contend that once you really internalize the Basic Fact of Cognitive Science, “just a chemical reaction” strikes you as an utterly trivial claim: What isn’t a chemical reaction? That’s just a funny way of saying something exists.

What about being an evolved behavior? Yes, this is a much more insightful account of what love is, what it means—what it’s for, even. It evolved to make us find mates, protect offspring, and cooperate in groups.

And I can hear the response coming: “Is that all?” “Is it just that?” (There’s that “just” again.)

So let me try phrasing it another way:

Love is what makes us human.

If there is one thing that human beings are better at than anything in the known universe, one thing that most absolutely characterizes who and what we are, it is love.

Intelligence? Rationality? Reasoning? Oh, sure, for the first half-million years of our existence, we were definitely on top; but now, I think computers have got us beat on those. (I guess it’s hard to say for sure if Claude is truly intelligent, but I can tell you this: Wolfram Alpha is a lot better at calculus than I’ll ever be, and I will never win a game of Go against AlphaZero.)

Strength? Ridiculous! By megafauna standards—even ape standards—we’re pathetic. Speed? Not terrible, but of course the cheetahs and peregrine falcons have us beat. Endurance? We’re near the top, but so are several other species—including horses, which we’ve made good use of. Durability? Also surprisingly good—we’re tougher than we look—but we still hold no candles to a pachyderm. (You need special guns to kill an elephant, because most standard bullets barely pierce their skin. And standard bullets were, more or less by construction, designed to kill humans.) We do throw exceptionally well, so if you’d like, you can say that the essence of humanity is javelin-throwing—or perhaps baseball.

But no, I think it is love that sets us apart.

Not that other animals are incapable of love; far from it. Almost all mammals and birds express love to their offspring and often their partners; I would not even be sure that reptiles, fish, or amphibians are incapable of love, though their behavior is less consistently affectionate and I am thus less certain about it. (Especially when fish eat their own offspring!) In fact, I might even be prepared to say that bees feel love for their sisters and their mother (the queen). And if insects can feel it, then our world is absolutely teeming with love.

But what sets humans apart, even from other mammals, is the scale at which we are able to love. We are able to love a city, a nation, a culture. We are even able to love ideas.

I do not think this is just a metaphor: (There’s that “just” again!) I would as surely die for democracy as I would to save the life of my spouse. That love is real. It is meaningful. It is important.

Humans feel love for other humans they have never met who live thousands of miles away from them. They will even willingly accept harm to themselves to benefit those others (e.g. by donating to international charities); one can argue that most people do not do this enough, but people do actually do it, and it is difficult to explain why they would were it not for genuine feelings of caring toward people they have never met and most likely never will.

And without this, all of what we know as “human civilization” quite simply could not exist. Without our love for our countrymen, for our culture, for our shared ethical and political principles, we could not sustain these grand nation-states that span the world.

Yes, even despite our often fierce disagreements, there must be a core of solidarity between at least enough people to sustain a nation. Even authoritarian governments cannot sustain themselves when the entire population stops loving them—in fact, they seem to fail at the hands of a sufficiently well-organized four percent. (Honestly, perhaps the worst part about fascist states is that many of their people do love them, all too deeply!)

More than that, without love, we could never have created institutions like science, art, and journalism that slowly but surely accumulate knowledge that is shared with the whole of humanity. The march of progress has been slower and more fitful than I think anyone would like; but it is real, nonetheless, and in the long run humanity’s trajectory still seems to be toward a brighter future—and it is love that makes it so.

It is sometimes said that you should stop caring what other people think—but caring what other people think is what makes us human. Sure, there are bad forms of social pressure; but a person who literally does not care how their actions make other people think and feel is what we call a psychopath. Part of what it means to love someone is to care a great deal what they think. And part of what makes a good person is to have the capacity to love as much as possible.

Love binds us together not only as families, but as nations, and—hopefully, one day—it could bind humanity or even all sentient life as one united whole. Morality is a deep and complicated subject, but if you must start somewhere very simple in understanding it, you could do much worse than to start with love.

It is often said that God is what binds cultures, nations, and humanity together. With this in mind, perhaps I am prepared to assent to “God is love” after all, but let me clarify what I would mean by it:

Love does for us what people thought they needed God for.

How are this many people in the Epstein files?

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Feb 8 JDN 2461080

It’s been obvious from the start that Donald Trump had something to hide in the Epstein files, but the list of famous people mentioned in the Epstein files absolutely staggers me.

Just listing people I had previously heard of, even aside from Donald and Melania Trump:

Woody Allen, Steve Bannon, Ehud Barak, Richard Branson, William Burns, Noam Chomsky, Deepak Chopra, Bill Clinton, David Copperfield, Bill Gates, Stephen Hawking, Michael Jackson, Thorbjørn Jagland, Lawrence Krauss, Elon Musk, Mehmet Oz, Brett Ratner, Ariane de Rothschild, Kevin Spacey, Lawrence H. Summers, Peter Thiel, Robert Trivers, and Michael Wolff.

There are of course more people who are famous for various things that I simply wasn’t familiar with, such as Anil Ambani, Peter Attia, Todd Boehly, Andrew Farkas, Brad S. Karp, and Brian Vickers. And more names may yet come out as the saga continues.

Now, some of these connections are more damning than others: At the milder end, we have Bill Gates, who doesn’t appear to have actually received (let alone responded to) the emails addressed to him, and Thorbjørn Jagland, who was planning to visit the island but apparently never actually did so. At the worse end, we have Richard Branson, who introduced Epstein to his “harem” (Branson’s word), Noam Chomsky, who had extensive exchanges and received $270,000 from a mysterious account (he claims Epstein had nothing to do with it), Lawrence Krauss and Robert Trivers, who both continued to publicly defend Epstein even after Epstein was convicted of sex crimes against children in 2008, Peter Thiel, who received $40 million from Epstein, and of course Donald Trump himself, who is mentioned in the Epstein files some 38,000 times. (That we know of.)

Even the damning ones are largely not conclusive; the documents that have been released don’t appear to be sufficient to prove anyone guilty of crimes in a court of law. But given that Donald Trump is President and is probably doing everything he can to suppress and redact any such evidence that does exist (at the very least against himself), this absence of evidence is not particularly strong evidence of absence. The best we can really say at this juncture is that it looks very suspicious about an awful lot of famous people.

I guess it’s honestly possible that some of these people knew Epstein well but really didn’t know about his secret life sexually abusing children. Sometimes monsters can hide in plain sight. But several of these people have been credibly accused of sex crimes of their own, and many of them circled the wagons to defend each other whenever new accusations came out. And once someone pleads guilty and is convicted (as Epstein was in 2008), you really should stop defending him.

It honestly seems like QAnon wasn’t entirely wrong after all! There was a secret cabal of famous, powerful people sexually abusing children! They just got some (okay, nearly all) of the details wrong, and for some reason thought that Donald Trump was going to bring that cabal down, rather than do everything in his power to suppress and redact all files related to it and still end up being mentioned in said files over 38,000 times. But honestly, the whole idea sounded crazy to me, and apparently it was basically correct! (Even at least one Rothschild seems to have been involved!)

I am particularly disturbed by the academics on this list: Chomsky, Hawking, Krauss, Summers, and Trivers. These men are (or were) taking up scarce tenure slots at highly prestigious universities, while at best being guilty of very bad judgment, and quite likely actually guilty of serious sex crimes. Even if they aren’t actually criminals themselves, keeping them on at prestigious institutions—as several top universities did, for years, after much was already known—besmirches the reputation of those institutions and is a disservice to the many qualified academics with better reputations who would happily replace them.

To that list I might add Chopra, who has also taught at extremely prestigious universities, but doesn’t actually do much credible research, preferring instead to peddle pseudoscientific nonsense. I don’t understand why universities ever let him teach at all—frankly it’s an insult to every other applicant they haven’t hired. (Having applied to many of these institutions myself, I take it quite personally, as a matter of fact. You think he’s better than me?) Chopra’s associations with Epstein are just one more reason to cut ties with him, when they never had any reason to make ties with him in the first place.

I am not optimistic that releasing these files will accomplish very much. Like I said, none of it seems to be conclusive. Even if evidence of crimes did emerge, they’d likely be beyond the statute of limitations. All the secrecy surrounding Epstein and his cohorts actually seems to have been pretty effective at protecting them from facing punishment for their actions.

But please, please, I’m begging here, for the sake of all that is good in the world, could this at least make people stop supporting Donald Trump!?

This is fascism.

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Feb 1 JDN 2461073

The Party told you to ignore the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.

– George Orwell, 1984

As I write this, we haven’t even finished January of 2026, and already there have been not one, but two blatant, public executions of innocent people by federal agents that occurred in broad daylight and on video.

I already thought the video of Renee Good’s shooting was pretty clear, but the videos of Alex Pretti’s just leave no room for doubt at all. He was disarmed and restrained when they shot him; this was an execution.

I have heard liberals mocked by leftists as “people who are okay with the government killing people as long as the right paperwork is filed”. This is sort of true, actually—if by “paperwork” you mean due process of law. You know, the foundation of liberal democracy? That little thing?

Yes, I am actually okay with (some) military actions, police shootings in self-defense, and even executions of convicted murderers (though I should note that actually many liberals aren’t okay with the latter). I think that a world where nobody kills anybody is a pipe dream, and the best we can reasonably hope for is one where there are few killings, most of them are justified, and the ones that aren’t are punished. (And if your problem is specifically with the government killing people… who do you think should have that authority, if not democratically-elected representatives?) I understand that the government needs to kill people sometimes, but I expect those killings to be limited to justifiable wars, imminent threats to life and limb, or the result of a proper conviction by a fair jury trial.

But this was not due process of law. There was no judge, no jury, no trial—there wasn’t even a warrant or an arrest. Nor was it an in-the-moment response to an imminent threat—even a perceived one. The videos are crystal-clear: Alex Pretti was no threat to the border patrol agents who shot him to death.

This is fascism.

It’s not like fascism. It’s not toward fascism. This isn’t how it starts. Masked men executing innocent people in broad daylight is fascism. It’s here. It’s happening.

This does not necessarily mean that our entire country has fallen to fascism; there is still hope that we can stop this from happening again, and also hope that this will not escalate into a full-blown civil war. But shooting an innocent unarmed man without a judge or a jury is an inherently, irredeemably fascist act. If the men responsible are not tried for murder, it will be a grave injustice—and it could very well escalate into much larger-scale violence.

I wish I could say this sort of thing is totally unprecedented; but no, it’s not. The United States government has done a lot of horrible things over the years, from slavery to the Trail of Tears to the Japanese internment. I think that our country has been in a profound state of tension from the very beginning, between the high-minded ideals of “all men are created equal” and the deep-seated tribalism that comes naturally to nearly all human beings. I don’t think America is uniquely evil; in fact, I think we are especially good—it’s just that even a good country often does horrible things.

And there is something different about this. It’s not the first time our government has killed anyone, or even killed anyone for an obviously unjustified reason. But I think it might be the first time the government has publicly and blatantly lied about the circumstances in a way that can be directly refuted by video evidence. They aren’t painting it as a “mistake” or saying it was “a few bad apples”; they are actually trying to claim justification where obviously none exists. They are asking you to believe what they say over what you can see with your own two eyes.

This is what authoritarian states do. They try to undermine your belief in objective reality. They try to gaslight you into believing what they say instead of what you can see. And even in an extremely prosperous, well-educated country, they have been shockingly effective at it.

This is what we warned against when Trump was running for election.

Maybe it’s not productive to say “We told you so”, but, uh, we told you so.

He’s done so many terrible things, and has been enabled so many times by Republicans in Congress and the right-wing justices of the Supreme Court. As a result, it’s hard to draw any bright lines in the sand. But if you really want to draw one, this might be a good one to draw.

Honestly, the best time to turn against Trump was ten years ago; but people are finally turning against him, and better late than never.

Productivity by itself does not eliminate poverty

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Jan 25 JDN 2461066

Scott Alexander has a techno-utopian vision:

Between the vast ocean of total annihilation and the vast continent of infinite post-scarcity, there is, I admit, a tiny shoreline of possibilities that end in oligarch capture. Even if you end up there, you’ll be fine. Dario Amodei has taken the Giving What We Can Pledge (#43 here) to give 10% of his wealth to the less fortunate; your worst-case scenario is owning a terraformed moon in one of his galaxies. Now you can stop worrying about the permanent underclass and focus on more important things.

I agree that total annihilation is a very serious risk, though fortunately I believe it is not the most likely outcome. But it seems pretty weird to me to posit that the most likely outcome is “infinite post-scarcity” when oligarch capture is what we already have.

(Regarding Alexander’s specific example: Dario Amidei has $3.7 billion. If he were to give away 10% of that, it would be $370 million, which would be good, but hardly usher in a radical utopia. The assumption seems to be that he would be one of the prevailing trillionaire oligarchs, and I don’t see how we can know that would be the case. Even if AI succeeds in general, that doesn’t mean that every company that makes AI succeeds. (Video games succeeded, but who buys Atari anymore?) Also, it seems especially wide-eyed to imagine that one man would ever own entire galaxies. We probably won’t even ever be able to reach other galaxies!)

People with this sort of utopian vision seem to imagine that all we need to do is make more stuff, and then magically it will all be distributed in such a way that everyone gets to have enough.

If Alexander were writing 200 years ago, I could even understand why he’d think that; there genuinely wasn’t enough stuff to go around, and it would have made sense to think that all we needed to do was solve that problem, and then the other problems would be easy.

But we no longer live in that world.

There is enough stuff to go around—at the very least this is true of all highly-developed countries, and it’s honestly pretty much true of the world as a whole. The problem is very much that it isn’t going around.

Elon Musk’s net wealth is now estimated at over $780 billion. Seven hundred and eighty billion dollars. He could give $90 to every person in the world (all 8.3 billion of us). He could buy a home (median price $400,000—way higher than it was just a few years ago) for every homeless person in America (about 750,000 people) and still have half his wealth left over. He could give $900 to every single person of the 831 million people who live below the world extreme poverty threshold—thus eliminating extreme poverty in the world for a year. (And quite possibly longer, as all those people are likely to be more productive now that they are well-fed.) He has chosen to do none of these things, because he wants to see number go up.

That’s just one man. If you add up all the wealth of all the world’s billionaires—just billionaires, so we’re not even counting people with $50 million or $100 million or $500 million—it totals over $16 trillion. This is enough to not simply end extreme poverty for a year, but to establish a fund that would end it forever.

And don’t tell me that they can’t really do this because it’s all tied up in stocks and not liquid. UNICEF happily accepts donations in stock. Giving UNICEF $10 trillion in stocks absolutely would permanently end extreme poverty worldwide. And they could donate those stocks today. They are choosing not to.

I still think that AI is a bubble that’s going to burst and trigger a financial crisis. But there is some chance that AI actually does become a revolutionary new technology that radically increases productivity. (In fact, I think this will happen, eventually. I just think we’re a paradigm or two away from that, and LLMs are largely a dead end.)

But even if that happens, unless we have had radical changes in our economy and society, it will not usher in a new utopian era of plenty for all.

How do I know this? Because if that were what the powers that be wanted to happen, they would have already started doing it. The super-rich are now so absurdly wealthy that they could easily effect great reductions in poverty at home and abroad while costing themselves basically nothing in terms of real standard of living, but they are choosing not to do that. And our governments could be taxing them more and using those funds to help people, and they are by and large choosing not to do that either.

The notion seems to be similar to “trickle-down economics”: Once the rich get rich enough, they’ll finally realize that money can’t buy happiness and start giving away their vast wealth to help people. But if that didn’t happen at $100 million, or $1 billion, or $10 billion, or $100 billion, I see no reason to think that it will happen at $1 trillion or $10 trillion or even $100 trillion.

Another year older

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Jan 18 JDN 2461059

This post goes live one day before my 38th birthday. I think at this point I have to officially classify myself as middle-aged; I have nearly lived half the life I can expect to live. (Actually if you look at actuarial tables, the point at which, for a male, your expected remaining lifespan is equal to your age is 39 years old, so I’m not quite there yet.)

The odd part is I still don’t really feel like an adult. I don’t own my own home; I’m not making enough money to save; I don’t have any children. I am at least married, and I have a PhD; so I have at least achieved some of the milestones of adulthood—but not nearly as many as I’d expected to have achieved by the age of 38.

Then again, maybe growing older always feels like this. SMBC had a comic about this, where a woman grows older but always feels like she’s a child pretending to be older. But I don’t really feel like a child pretending to be an adult; I feel like a teenager pretending to be an adult. It’s as if my core identity was set at about the age of 16 and ever since then, time passes and my body keeps getting older, but I still feel like I’m that same person pretending to be someone else.

I think I felt more like an adult when I was teaching at Edinburgh; then at least I was working as a professional and paying my own rent. I wish I’d been able to find a way to be happy in academia, because I certainly haven’t found a way to be happy outside of it—and at least on the inside I was making money.

This last year in particular has been one of the worst in my lifetime—not just for me, but for the whole world.

For me personally: I lost one of my greatest mentors, I still remain unemployed, and my mother’s memory problems have not improved (though they also haven’t gotten worse).

For the world at large: Thanks to his enablers in the Republican Party, Donald Trump has been able to do tremendous damage to the United States, the global trade system, NATO, and global poverty relief efforts, with virtually no apparent gain to anyone but himself and perhaps a few of his closest cronies (though even them he would happily throw under the bus for an extra dollar).

I guess it remains to be seen what will happen to Venezuela; while Maduro was terrible, it’s quite clear that Trump does not have the best interests of the Venezuelan people at heart. He seems unwilling to even pretend that this is about anything but oil. (The weirdest part is that even the oil companies don’t actually seem all that interested in the oil!)

We have all watched helplessly as the carnage has ensued, getting news almost every single day about some new horrible thing that he has done. All the institutions that were supposed to stop this kind of madness have utterly failed in their task, most of all the Electoral College, which actually did the exact opposite of its intended purpose by electing him in the first place.

It’s not all Trump’s fault, either: The increase in US carbon emissions had less to do with Trump’s policies than with the war in Ukraine raising natural gas prices and data centers hogging our electricity.

It could be worse, I suppose. We still aren’t in World War 3. Congress is actually doing something to try to stop Trump from—I can’t believe I’m saying this—invading Greenland. And the recent increase in extreme poverty measures was a change in how poverty is measured, not a real reduction in standard of living; global extreme poverty is still decreasing (though also still horrifically high).

I still feel like I’m in survival mode: Just trying to get through each day, hoping that things eventually get better. But at least I get to have some cake with friends.

In memory of Jens Zorn

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Jan 11 JDN 2461052

I received the news when I woke up on January 5 that Jens Zorn had passed away the previous night.

He was born in 1931, so he died at the age of 94; we can all only hope for a run like that. (If I make it as long, I’ll live until 2082. At this point I’m not sure humanity is going to make it that long.) So I can’t exactly be shocked that his life ended, but I still feel like a part of me has been torn away.

Jens was a great mentor to me. I met him through the Saturday Morning Physics program at the University of Michigan, which I attended all through high school. (Oddly enough, my biology teacher in 9th grade gave extra credit for it, but my physics teacher in 10th grade did not.) I then arranged to take his course in intro quantum mechanics as a dual-enrolled high school and college student.

He was of course brilliant—he was a quantum physics professor—but he was also kind, understanding, and down-to-earth in a way that defied the usual stereotypes about physicists. He was also an artist; he created a number of metal sculptures around campus, most of which commemorate major discoveries in physics that were made at Michigan. I think my favorite is the elegant Positronium. As someone who also combines both scientific and artistic interests, I felt like we were (so to speak) on the same wavelength. Maybe that’s why he took me under his wing.

Jens saw tremendous potential in me. He believed I could be a great physicist. He helped arrange numerous opportunities for me to participate in theoretical physics research in high school and college.

Jens also helped my career in other ways. He helped me get summer jobs at the University of Michigan interviewing physicists to compile an oral history for the University’s bicentennial and doing some web development for the physics department. I still look back on those as the best jobs I ever had; they didn’t pay as well as Edinburgh (though by the hour they weren’t actually much worse), but I was actually happy at them in a way I’m not sure I’ve been happy at any job before or since. The work came easily, I got everything done well and ahead of schedule, and I felt like I was making a real contribution.

In some ways, I feel like I let Jens down. For one thing, I didn’t become a physicist at all. I dabbled in philosophy, linguistics, and cognitive science before finally settling on economics for graduate school. But I think he would still have been happy for me if I had been successful as an economist, or even as a science fiction author. The way I really feel like I let him down was by not being particularly successful at anything at all.

He believed in me when I didn’t; and I think he died still believing in me even though I’m still not sure I do. He saw something in me that I don’t see—and he isn’t the only one who saw it, so I can’t say it was just a mistake. But it also seems like “the world”, or “the market”, or whatever we want to call those inscrutable impersonal forces that actually decide where people end up in life, doesn’t really see it in me either. So I’m left to wonder why so many people have told me they believe I am destined for excellence when actually achieving even mediocrity has been so elusive. Can “the world” be wrong? Could I still have a chance, after all these years of failure?

One thing I know for sure: If I do, Jens Zorn won’t be around to congratulate me—just like my father won’t.

Hope for the new year

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Jan 4 JDN 2461045

We have just entered 2026. I remember that around this time last year I felt a deep, visceral despair: Trump had just been elected and was about to be inaugurated, and I could only dread what the next year would bring. For the next several weeks I posted sections of my book The Logic of Kindness (at this point, it is probably never actually going to be published?), partly because I felt—and still feel—that these ideas do deserve to be out in the world, but also partly because I had no creative energy to write anything else.

Well, the first year of Trump’s second term was just about as bad as we thought it would be. He has torn apart global institutions that took decades to forge; he has caused thousands if not millions of unnecessary deaths; he has alienated our closest allies—seriously, CANADA!?—and cozied up to corrupt, authoritarian dictators around the world, because that is exactly what he aspires to be.

It’s true, he hasn’t collapsed the economy (yet). Inflation has been about as bad as it was before, despite the ludicrous tariffs. (He promised to bring prices down, but we all knew he wouldn’t. I honestly expected them to go up more than this.) He also hasn’t started any wars, though he looks damn close to it in Venezuela. And as he continues to make a mockery of our whole government, the checks and balances that are supposed to be reining him have languished unused, because the Republicans control all three branches.

Trump is still in office, and poised to be for three more years.

Yet, at last, there is some glimmer of hope on the horizon.

Other Republicans are starting to turn against him, in part because of his obvious and undeniable connections to Jeffrey Epstein and his ring of serial rapists. (Let’s be clear about that, by the way: They’re not just pedophiles. “Pedophile” merely means you are sexually attracted to children. Some pedophiles seek treatment. These men were rapists who sexually assaulted actual teenagers. And at this point it strains credulity to imagine that Donald Trump himself wasn’t an active participant on multiple occasions—no amount of incompetent redactions will change that.)

Trump’s net approval is now negative on almost every major issue, especially on inflation. It is now a statistical certainty that more Americans disapprove of him than approve of him.

Both of these things should have happened more than a year ago, if not a decade ago; but hey, better late than never.

Democrats—even very left-wing democrats, like Mamdani—have done very well in elections lately, and seem poised to continue doing well in the 2026 midterm election. If we can actually secure a majority in both houses of Congress, we might finally be able to start undoing some of the damage Trump has done—or at least stop him from doing even more.

I’m sure there will be plenty of bad things that continue to happen this year, and that many of them will be Donald Trump’s fault. But I no longer feel the deep despair I felt last year; it seems like things might finally be turning around for America—and thus for the world.

A new Santa Baby

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Dec 28 JDN 2461038

In the song “Santa Baby”, there are several high-value items requested as Christmas gifts. I’m currently working on a rewrite of the song that compares these items with humanitarian interventions of the same cost, making into a protest song—but so far I’ve had trouble making it actually singable with the meter of the song.

So for now, I thought I’d share my cost estimates and what could be purchased with those same amounts:

Sable: $1000 More expensive than most dogs, but really not that bad! In fact, some purebreds cost more than that.

1954 convertible: $28,000; yeah, classic cars are really not that expensive actually.

Yacht: There are yachts and then there are yachts. Could cost anywhere from $300,000 to $500 million.

Platinum mine: Hard to estimate, but with platinum costing $2400 per ounce and mines capable of producing thousands of ounces per year for 20 years, should be worth at least $100 million—and possibly as much as $1 billion.

Duplex: $400,000 or so, depending on the location.

Decorations at Tiffany’s: Depends on what you buy, but easily $10,000 to trim a whole tree; that store is so wildly overpriced that a jewellery box can cost you $2,000 and even an individual Christmas tree ornament can cost $160. (Seriously, don’t shop at Tiffany’s.)

Ring: Depends on a lot of factors; I’ll assume platinum, so that will run you anywhere from $400 for a basic band to $95,000 for one with a huge diamond.

The platinum mine is a clear outlier; unless you buy one of the largest yachts in the world, none of the other items even come close to its price. Aside from the yacht, all the other items add up to less than a million dollars, and even the cheapest platinum mines are clearly worth more than that.

What else could you buy for these amounts?

Well, a malaria net costs about $2, and on average every $3,000 spent saves a child’s life. A vaccine costs about $1-$5 per dose. So for the price of the platinum mine alone, we could buy 50 million malaria nets or 20 million vaccines, and either way expect to save the lives of about 30,000 children.

(Maybe some other time I’ll actually make this into something singable.)

On the other hand, if you really wanna buy a sable or a 1954 convertible, they’re really not that expensive. The former is cheaper than a purebred dog, and the latter costs about the same as a new car.

The longest night

PNRJ current events, futurism, politics , , , ,

Dec 21 JDN 2461031

When this post goes live, it will be (almost exactly) the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. In our culture, derived mainly from European influences, we associate this time of year with Christmas; but in fact solstice celebrations are much more ancient and universal than that. Humans have been engaging in some sort of ritual celebration—often involving feasts and/or gifts—around the winter solstice in basically every temperate region of the world for as far back as we are able to determine. (You don’t see solstice celebrations so much in tropical regions, because “winter” isn’t really a thing there; those cultures tend to adopt lunar or lunisolar calendars instead.) Presumably humans have been doing something along these lines for about as long as there have been humans to do them.

I think part of why solstice celebrations are so enduring is that the solstice has both powerful symbolism and practical significance. It is the longest night of the year, when the sky will be darkest for the longest time and light for the shortest—above the Arctic Circle, the night lasts 24 hours and the sky never gets light at all. But from that point forward, the light will start to return. The solstice also heralds the start of the winter months, when the air is cold enough to be dangerous and food becomes much scarcer.

Of course, today we don’t have to worry about that so much: We have electric heating and refrigeration, so we can stay warm inside and eat pretty much whatever we want all year round. The practical significance, then, of the solstice has greatly decreased for us.

Yet it’s still a very symbolic time: The darkness is at its worst, the turning point is reached, the light will soon return. And when we reflect on how much safer we are than our ancestors were during this time of year, we may find it in our hearts to feel some gratitude for how far humanity has come—even if we still have terribly far yet to go.

And this year, in particular, I think we are seeing the turning point for a lot of darkness. The last year especially has been a nightmare for, well, the entire free world—not to mention all the poor countries who depended on us for aid—but at last it seems like we are beginning to wake from that nightmare. Within margin of error, Trump’s approval rating is at the lowest it has ever been, about 43% (still shockingly high, I admit), and the Republicans seem to be much more divided and disorganized than they were just a year ago, some of them even openly defying Trump instead of bowing at his every word.

Of course, while the motions of the Earth are extraordinarily regular and predictable, changes in society are not. The solstice will certainly happen on schedule, and the days will certainly get longer for the next six months after that—I’d give you million-to-one odds on either proposition. (Frankly, if I ever had to pay, we’d probably have bigger problems!)

But as far as our political, economic, and cultural situation, things could get very well get worse again before they get better. There’s even a chance they won’t get better, that it’s all downhill from here—but I believe those chances are very small. Things are not so bleak as that.

While there have certainly been setbacks and there will surely be more, on the whole humanity’s trajectory has been upward, toward greater justice and prosperity. Things feel so bad right now, not so much because they are bad in absolute terms (would you rather live as a Roman slave or a Medieval peasant?), but because this is such a harsh reversal in an otherwise upward trend—and because we can see just how easy it would be to do even better still, if the powers that be had half the will to do so.

So here’s hoping that on this longest night, at least some of the people with the power to make things better will see a little more of the light.

The confidence game

PNRJ core principles, ethics, heuristics and biases, personal, politics , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dec 14 JDN 2461024

Our society rewards confidence. Indeed, it seems to do so without limit: The more confident you are, the more successful you will be, the more prestige you will gain, the more power you will have, the more money you will make. It doesn’t seem to matter whether your confidence is justified; there is no punishment for overconfidence and no reward for humility.

If you doubt this, I give you Exhibit A: President Donald Trump.

He has nothing else going for him. He manages to epitomize almost every human vice and lack in almost every human virtue. He is ignorant, impulsive, rude, cruel, incurious, bigoted, incompetent, selfish, xenophobic, racist, and misogynist. He has no empathy, no understanding of justice, and little capacity for self-control. He cares nothing for truth and lies constantly, even to the point of pathology. He has been convicted of multiple felonies. His businesses routinely go bankrupt, and he saves his wealth mainly through fraud and lawsuits. He has publicly admitted to sexually assaulting adult women, and there is mounting evidence that he has also sexually assaulted teenage girls. He is, in short, one of the worst human beings in the world. He does not have the integrity or trustworthiness to be an assistant manager at McDonald’s, let alone President of the United States.

But he thinks he’s brilliant and competent and wise and ethical, and constantly tells everyone around him that he is—and millions of people apparently believe him.

To be fair, confidence is not the only trait that our society rewards. Sometimes it does actually reward hard work, competence, or intellect. But in fact it seems to reward these virtues less consistently than it rewards confidence. And quite frankly I’m not convinced our society rewards honesty at all; liars and frauds seem to be disproportionately represented among the successful.

This troubles me most of all because confidence is not a virtue.

There is nothing good about being confident per se. There is virtue in notbeing underconfident, because underconfidence prevents you from taking actions you should take. But there is just as much virtue in not being overconfident, because overconfidence makes you take actions you shouldn’t—and if anything, is the more dangerous of the two. Yet our culture appears utterly incapable of discerning whether confidence is justifiable—even in the most blatantly obvious cases—and instead rewards everyone all the time for being as confident as they can possibly be.

In fact, the most confident people are usually less competent than the most humble people—because when you really understand something, you also understand how much you don’t understand.

We seem totally unable to tell whether someone who thinks they are right is actually right; and so, whoever thinks they are right is assumed to be right, all the time, every time.

Some of this may even be genetic, a heuristic that perhaps made more sense in our ancient environment. Even quite young children already are more willing to trust confident answers than hesitant ones, in multiple experiments.

Studies suggest that experts are just as overconfident as anyone else, but to be frank, I think this is because you don’t get to be called an expert unless you’re overconfident; people with intellectual humility are filtered out by the brutal competition of academia before they can get tenure.

I guess this is also personal for me.

I am not a confident person. Temperamentally, I just feel deeply uncomfortable going out on a limb and asserting things when I’m not entirely certain of them. I also have something of a complex about ever being perceived as arrogant or condescending, maybe because people often seem to perceive me that way even when I am actively trying to do the opposite. A lot of people seem to take you as condescending when you simply acknowledge that you have more expertise on something than they do.

I am also apparently a poster child for Impostor Syndrome. I once went to an Impostor Syndrome with a couple dozen other people where they played a bingo game for Impostor Syndrome traits and behaviors—and won. I once went to a lecture by George Akerlof where he explained that he attributed his Nobel Prize more to luck and circumstances than any particular brilliance on his part—and I guarantee you, in the extremely unlikely event I ever win a prize like that, I’ll say the same.

Compound this with the fact that our society routinely demands confidence in situations where absolutely no one could ever justify being confident.

Consider a job interview, when they ask you: “Why are you the best candidate for this job?” I couldn’t possibly know that. No one in my position could possibly know that. I literally do not know who your other candidates are in order to compare myself to them. I can tell you why I am qualified, but that’s all I can do. I could be the best person for the job, but I have no idea if I am. It’s your job to figure that out, with all the information in front of you—and I happen to know that you’re actually terrible at it, even with all that information I don’t have access to. If I tell you I know I’m the best person for the job, I am, by construction, either wildly overconfident or lying. (And in my case, it would definitely be lying.)

In fact, if I were a hiring manager, I would probably disqualify anyone who told me they were the best person for the job—because the one thing I now know about them is that they are either overconfident or willing to lie. (But I’ll probably never be a hiring manager.)

Likewise, I’ve been often told when pitching creative work to explain why I am the best or only person who could bring this work to life, or to provide accurate forecasts of how much the work would sell if published. I almost certainly am not the best or only person who could do anything—only a handful of people on Earth could realistically say that they are, and they’ve all already won Oscars or Emmys or Nobel Prizes. Accurate sales forecasts for creative works are so difficult that even Disney Corporation, an ever-growing conglomerate media superpower with billions of dollars to throw at the problem and even more billions of dollars at stake in getting it right, still routinely puts out films that are financial failures.


They casually hand you impossible demands and then get mad at you when you say you can’t meet them. And then they go pick someone else who claims to be able to do the impossible.

There is some hope, however.

Some studies suggest that people can sometimes recognize and punish overconfidence—though, again, I don’t see how that can be reconciled with the success of Donald Trump. In this study of evaluating expert witnesses, the most confident witnesses were rated as slightly less reliable than the moderately-confident ones, but both were far above the least-confident ones.

Surprisingly simple interventions can make intellectual humility more salient to people, and make them more willing to trust people who express doubt—who are, almost without exception, the more trustworthy people.

But somehow, I think I have to learn to express confidence I don’t feel, because that’s how you succeed in our society.