Heaven and Hell, or how to hack a hedonic mind

2026-09-132026-09-11 PNRJ cognitive science, core principles, current events, ethics, heuristics and biases, tribal paradigm 9/11, belief in belief, Christianity, Heaven, Hell, Islam, Pascal's Wager, religion, terrorism, Voltaire

Sep 13 JDN 2461297

I am writing this on the 25^th anniversary of 9/11, perhaps the most vivid moment in recent history in which religious beliefs directly caused horrific violence. Yes, there were political motivations for the attacks as well; but the way that the conspirators spoke of Islam and the afterlife and the fact that they were willing—eager, even—to sacrifice their own lives in the service of their cause shows that religion was also a very important motivating factor.

I’m not going to spend this post re-litigating the American and international response to the attacks, except to say what I already said over a decade ago: we sacrificed vital civil liberties for more or less nothing. (I would also like to note how prescient this line reads today, written in 2015: “If we’re worried about millions of people dying, it is far more likely that there would be a repeat of the 1918 influenza pandemic”)

Instead, I’d like to talk about how religion made 9/11 a rational behavior.

If you allow the premise that there is a Heaven in which we will receive eternal bliss if we do the right thing, and a Hell in which we will receive eternal suffering if we do the wrong thing, and then posit that the right thing God wants you to do is to crash an airplane into a skyscraper, it is rational for you to crash an airplane into a skyscraper.

If Heaven and Hell are at stake, any action can be made rational.

In order to avoid this conclusion, you either need to deny the rationality of religion itself, or you need to somehow ensure that whatever actions are prescribed by religion are good ones. But people don’t always agree on what actions are good—especially if they come from different religions—and if you already know which actions are good… what did you need religion for?

Is the idea perhaps that most people are too stupid to understand what is really good, and so instead we have to motivate them with lies? The people who are smart enough to understand ethics come up with the rules, and then they pass down these rules to the priests so that the priests can convince everyone else that following those rules leads to Heaven and breaking them leads to Hell? Is that why religious people seem so afraid of atheists undermining the authority of religion? You think most people can’t handle the truth? That if you stopped telling people that they are ruled by an almighty totalitarian who is willing and able to inflict eternal suffering on the disobedient, they wouldn’t understand why murder is wrong?

The better answer is to deny the rationality of religion itself.

This is the problem with Pascal’s Wager: If you are motivated by expected utility (which, most philosophers agree, is the rational way to behave), and you allow that there are outcomes which result in infinite utility, then only those outcomes matter, and you can be convinced to do literally anything in order to achieve those outcomes, as long as their probability of occurring is not exactly zero.

And if there are two different possible outcomes with infinite positive and negative utility attached (e.g. maybe Christianity is true, or maybe Islam is true)? Then your decision becomes undefined. Every possible action results in infinity minus infinity expected utility.

But it actually makes perfect sense that people would try to motivate you this way.

Given that you are a hedonic mind, that is, one which is motivated to seek pleasure and avoid pain, and I want to give you some belief that will make you do whatever I want, how can I have the best possible chance to convince you to do whatever I want you to do?

The answer, of course, is to convince you that doing what I want will result in infinite positive utility—eternal bliss—while doing whatever I don’t want will result in infinite negative utility—eternal suffering. I should tell you that doing what I want sends you to Heaven and not doing what I want sends you to Hell.

If I can convince you of that, I can make you do whatever I want. Once you hold that belief, obeying my every command is the only rational action for you to take, for whatever harms it may cause, they could never be as bad as eternal suffering, and whatever benefits you must forgo to do them, they could never be as good as eternal bliss.

Heaven and Hell are an optimal hack for a hedonic mind.

They are like the sudo command in Linux: Promising Heaven and threatening Hell grants full root access and allows you to make any possible command with absolute authority. In Linux operating systems, you need to already have administrative privileges to use sudo; in religion, I suppose what you need is the spiritual authority of a religious leader (or enough charisma and skill at deception to found your own cult).

Or to make it a little more concrete: They are like a gun held to your head, a gun that is so powerful it can make you suffer for all eternity.

And hey, maybe you’ll get lucky, and what whoever is in control of your beliefs (your priest? your holy book? your church community as a whole?) will actually motivate you to do good things! Maybe it won’t be so bad to be a mindlessly obedient automaton as long as you are programmed for good!

But what if you don’t get lucky? What if the person holding an infinite gun to your head orders you to do something bad? You’ll do that instead. The moment you accepted the belief that certain actions result in infinite happiness or infinite suffering, you gave up all your rational autonomy. As long as that belief remains in your head, the only rational thing to do will always be whatever sends you to Heaven and keeps you from going to Hell.

This is what Voltaire was talking about when he said:
“Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”

The answer, of course, is to never accept that belief.

There are various tricks you could use to do that: One would be to temporally discount the future so that bliss millennia from now means almost nothing to you. Another would be to assign some sort of arbitrary cap on how high or low the utility from a given outcome can be.

Alternatively, you could insist upon assigning a probability of zero to any belief that would result in infinite utility—just categorically say that you will never believe such a claim. This could actually be accomplished with a nice, smooth prior that is a normal distribution over outcomes, for while any particular positive utility has a positive probability, there is no probability of an infinite outcome. And the larger the utility that is promised, the lower the probability you’ll accept it—as I previously suggested as a reply to Pascal’s Wager (and Pascal’s Mugging).

In practice, I think people sort of do this.

I think that, deep in their minds, most people have some sort of “reasonableness checker” heuristic that tries to ensure that nobody is able to convince them to behave in horrible ways by making them adopt crazy beliefs. I believe that the reason most people do not commit atrocities is that they cannot really be convinced to believe absurdities—not completely. They can believe in believing them, but they can’t really believe them.

But then, there are the people who don’t have that heuristic, or for whom it has malfunctioned in some way, and those people actually believe the crazy beliefs they were told to believe. And those people can be motivated to commit atrocities—and so several of them did, 25 years ago.

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My own contribution to/dismissal of the God debate

2026-08-302026-08-27 PNRJ core principles, ethics, tribal paradigm atheism, debate, deism, ethics, God, morality, religion, Scott Alexander, theism

Aug 30 JDN 2461283

News of my death has been greatly exaggerated. I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to weekly blogging, but I will at least try to write here occasionally again.

I value Scott Alexander’s contribution to/dismissal of the God debate (he insists it’s a dismissal, but it seems awfully long and carefully-argued for that), and I would like to add my own contribution/dismissal.

I used to be a fairly major voice for atheist apologetics in my community; I was the founder and, for four years, president of a chapter of the Secular Student Alliance at the University of Michigan, and I participated in several public debates.

One was at the University of Michigan with Frank Turek, and I think I’ll call it a draw; he was a very skilled debater and I was a bit underprepared for his full-on assault, but I still think I won on the substance. (His gotcha question was: “What is the ultimate foundation of morality?” as if this is something you can just answer with a single sound byte. I wrote an entire book about that. Large sections of it are published on this blog.)

I also did one at Rochester College which I thoroughly dominated (if I do say so myself). Along with the Christian head of the panel, there was a neopagan, and some sort of fuzzy-headed woo-type person whose views weren’t entirely clear, and there was a very clear hierarchy in which I won, the Christian fared decently well, and the other two failed catastrophically in defending any of their significant points.

During that time, I learned a lot about what is and isn’t happening in these God debates.

I now think public in-person debates are pretty much useless. It’s a performance. It’s theatre. The most-prepared person usually wins, and I’m pretty sure at Rochester they thought the Christian would be that, but it was actually me; I not only knew the Ontological Argument and Pascal’s Wager, I actually had prepared answers for them.

I think that written debate, via blogging or published articles, is still valuable. This is a much better format for clarifying thoughts and solidifying arguments, and it gives both the writer and the reader a chance to actually think about things rather than having to respond in the moment. But even this is limited, for reasons I’ll get to in a moment.

Scott Alexander makes the very solid point that theism seems to be privileging a very specific hypothesis that the world is fine-tuned by some sort of inscrutable powerful being, which is the sort of hypothesis that could be used to explain literally anything, and thus ultimately explains nothing.

But I’ve got an even bigger point I’d like to make:

This whole debate is a motte and bailey.

For the uninitiated, a motte and bailey was a defensive strategy in Medieval times: You had a fortress called the motte which was small but highly defensible, and a wider open area called the bailey which was expansive and rich in resources but too large to readily defend. Your people would live on the bailey and reap its fruits most of the time, but when attacked, they would retreat to the motte to fend off attackers until the danger had passed.

In argumentation, a motte and bailey is when you have one view that you actually believe and care about and live your life according to, but can’t rationally defend easily (or perhaps at all)—the bailey—and another that you can rationally defend, but don’t actually care about—the motte.

In religion, the motte is what is called deism: The proposition that there could maybe exist some sort of powerful entity that created the universe, which might or might not have consciousness as we would understand it and might or might not have some sort of plan or intentions behind the way it designed and created the universe, and that it is reasonable to consider such a being with a sense of profound awe and mystery.

The bailey is, well, actual religion: The claim that the creator of the universe wrote this specific book which told your ancestors to commit genocide and tells you to mutilate children’s penises and kill gay people and drink wine every seven days while pretending/convincing yourself that it’s actually the blood of said creator of the universe who is also somehow human and died (but not really!) and sacrificed himself (for a weekend) for our sins, including ones committed by people who lived thousands of years ago (who probably never even existed), sins so bad that they apparently make it totally okay for kids to die of cancer (even though the entire concept of sacrificing one person to atone for the sins of another is morally incoherent). This creator of the universe loves us and wants to make us live happily forever—but if we’re bad, he’ll instead make us suffer forever, because that’s what love means! (This is not abusive at all.) And we should definitely ask this creator to do stuff for us, and he totally will, as long as we are pious enough—and if he doesn’t, well, we must not have been pious enough. Also, you should believe with all your heart in this one very specific interpretation of this specific book, even though there are thousands of other interpretations and dozens of other books that other people believe just as firmly with just as little evidence.

(Because I mostly write for an American audience, I’m picking on Christianity in particular here, but rest assured: I can do the same thing for Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, and plenty of other religions. They are all absurd, and most of them are evil.)

Deism is a rationally defensible proposition.

I disagree with it, but it is the sort of abstract, theoretical disagreement that has very few practical consequences, upon which reasonable people can in fact simply agree to disagree.

Religion is a blight upon human civilization.

It is a memeplex that defends itself by systematically undermining the human capacity for rational thought and critical analysis, frequently aligns itself with the most evil authoritarianism, and has held back scientific and moral progress since its emergence.

If you want to defend religion, it is simply not good enough to provide reasonable arguments for why maybe we might believe in an “ultimate mind” or a creator of the universe. You must defend hating gay people and mutilating children and supporting authoritarians and venerating a book that commands genocide. You must defend intercessory prayer and believing in Heaven and Hell.

If you wish to defend religion, you must defend what religious people actually do and believe, not what maybe some theoretical religious people could do and believe if they were vastly more kind and rational.

And if you are unprepared to do that, I have a very simple request:

Stop defending religion.

Nobody cares about your abstract, rarefied clockmaker God who designed Planck’s constant perfectly but is pitilessly indifferent to the suffering of children who die of cancer or drown in tsunamis. (I strongly suspect that you do not even actually care.)

People care about a personal God, a religious God, one that justifies them going to church on Sundays and praying to be healed and discriminating against gay people. They care about a God who will take them to Heaven if they are good but send them to Hell if they are bad. They care about the Bible, and they want it to be thought of as the best book ever even though it is in fact scientifically absurd and morally horrific—a good candidate for worst book ever, in fact, as even Mein Kampf does not include the line “save alive nothing that breathes”.

If you are truly motivated by reason and truth, you should hate those beliefs as passionately as I do, and want to resist them at every turn—and yet instead I see you making excuses for them, pretending that they are somehow compatible with modern science and modern ethics even though they plainly are not.

People are suffering and dying because of religion. Stop telling people it’s okay to believe in religion.

Love in a godless universe

2026-02-152026-02-09 PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, personal, tribal paradigm animals, artificial intelligence, atheism, civilization, cooperation, evolution, God, love, religion, solidarity

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.

This is fascism.

2026-02-012026-01-26 PNRJ current events, ethics, politics, tribal paradigm Alex Pretti, authoritarianism, border patrol, execution, extrajudicial, fascism, George Orwell, government, history, ICE, killing, leftist, liberal, murder, Renee Good, Trump, violence

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.

Reflections on the Charlie Kirk assassination

2025-09-282025-09-22 PNRJ core principles, current events, politics, tribal paradigm assassination, bigotry, Charlie Kirk, empathy, hatred, homophobia, Jacobin, killing, Krugman, murder, news, politics, psychopathy, racism, sexism, Trump, violence

Sep 28 JDN 2460947

No doubt you are well aware that Charlie Kirk was shot and killed on September 10. His memorial service was held on September 21, and filled a stadium in Arizona.

There have been a lot of wildly different takes on this event. It’s enough to make you start questioning your own sanity. So while what I have to say may not be that different from what Krugman (or for that matter Jacobin) had to say, I still thought I would try to contribute to the small part of the conversation that’s setting the record straight.

First of all, let me say that this is clearly a political assassination, and as a matter of principle, that kind of thing should not be condoned in a democracy.

The whole point of a democratic system is that we don’t win by killing or silencing our opponents, we win by persuading or out-voting them. As long as someone is not engaging in speech acts that directly command or incite violence (like, say, inciting people to attack the Capitol), they should be allowed to speak in peace; even abhorrent views should be not be met with violence.

Free speech isn’t just about government censorship (though that is also a major problem right now); it’s a moral principle that underlies the foundation of liberal democracy. We don’t resolve conflicts with violence unless absolutely necessary.

So I want to be absolutely clear about this: Killing Charlie Kirk was not acceptable, and the assassin should be tried in a court of law and, if duly convicted, imprisoned for a very long time.

Second of all, we still don’t know the assassin’s motive, so stop speculating until we do.

At first it looked like the killer was left-wing. Then it looked like maybe he was right-wing. Now it looks like maybe he’s left-wing again. Maybe his views aren’t easily categorized that way; maybe he’s an anarcho-capitalist, or an anarcho-communist, or a Scientologist. I won’t say it doesn’t matter; it clearly does matter. But we simply do not know yet.

There is an incredibly common and incredibly harmful thing that people do after any major crime: They start spreading rumors and speculating about things that we actually know next to nothing about. Stop it. Don’t contribute to that.

The whole reason we have a court system is to actually figure out the real truth, which takes a lot of time and effort. The courts are one American institution that’s actually still functioning pretty well in this horrific cyberpunk/Trumpistan era; let them do their job.

It could be months or years before we really fully understand what happened here. Accept that. You don’t need to know the answer right now, and it’s far more dangerous to think you know the answer when you actually don’t.

But finally, I need to point out that Charlie Kirk was an absolutely abhorrent, despicable husk of a human being and no one should be honoring him.

First of all, he himself advocated for political violence against his opponents. I won’t say anyone deserves what happened to him—but if anyone did, it would be him, because he specifically rallied his followers to do exactly this sort of thing to other people.

He was also bigoted in almost every conceivable way: Racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, and of course transphobic. He maintained a McCarthy-esque list of college professors that he encouraged people to harass for being too left-wing. He was a covert White supremacist, and only a little bit covert. He was not covert at all about his blatant sexism and misogyny that seems like it came from the 1950s instead of the 2020s.

He encouraged his—predominantly White, male, straight, cisgender, middle-class—audience to hate every marginalized group you can think of: women, people of color, LGBT people, poor people, homeless people, people with disabilities. Not content to merely be an abhorrent psychopath himself, he actively campaigned against the concept of empathy.

Charlie Kirk deserves no honors. The world is better off without him. He made his entire career out of ruining the lives of innocent people and actively making the world a worse place.

It was wrong to kill Charlie Kirk. But if you’re sad he’s gone, what is wrong with you!?

Conflict without shared reality

2025-08-172025-08-12 PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, inequality, politics, tribal paradigm Alan Turing, Atlantic, authority, automation, Babylon Bee, budget, conflict, crime, D.C., Donald Trump, employment, fairness, harm, homicide, immigration, Jonathan Haidt, LGBT, loyalty, manufacturing, National Guard, police, reality-based community, revealed preference, sanctity, Washington

Aug 17 JDN 2460905

Donald Trump has federalized the police in Washington D.C. and deployed the National Guard. He claims he is doing this in response to a public safety emergency and crime that is “out of control”.

Crime rates in Washington, D.C. are declining and overall at their lowest level in 30 years. Its violent crime rate has not been this low since the 1960s.

By any objective standard, there is no emergency here. Crime in D.C. is not by any means out of control.

Indeed, across the United States, homicide rates are as low as they have been in 60 years.

But we do not live in a world where politics is based on objective truth.

We live in a world where the public perception of reality itself is shaped by the political narrative.

One of the first things that authoritarians do to control these narratives is try to make their followers distrust objective sources. I watch in disgust as not simply the Babylon Bee (which is a right-wing satire site that tries really hard to be funny but never quite manages it) but even the Atlantic (a mainstream news outlet generally considered credible) feeds—in multiple articles—into this dangerous lie that crime is increasing and the official statistics are somehow misleading us about that.

Of course the Atlantic‘s take is much more nuanced; but quite frankly, now is not the time for nuance. A fascist is trying to take over our government, and he needs to be resisted at every turn by every means possible. You need to be calling him out on every single lie he makes—yes, every single one, I know there are a lot of them, and that’s kind of the point—rather than trying to find alternative framings on which maybe part of what he said could somehow be construed as reasonable from a certain point of view. Every time you make Trump sound more reasonable than he is—and mainstream news outlets have done this literally hundreds of times—you are pushing America closer to fascism.

I really don’t know what to do here.

It is impossible to resolve conflicts when they are not based on shared reality.

No policy can solve a crime wave that doesn’t exist. No trade agreement can stop unfair trading practices that aren’t happening. Nothing can stop vaccines from causing autism that they already don’t cause. There is no way to fix problems when those problems are completely imaginary.

I used to think that political conflict was about different values which had to be balanced against one another: Liberty versus security, efficiency versus equality, justice versus mercy. I thought that we all agreed on the basic facts and even most of the values, and were just disagreeing about how to weigh certain values over others.

Maybe I was simply naive; maybe it’s never been like that. But it certainly isn’t right now. We aren’t disagreeing about what should be done; we are disagreeing about what is happening in front of our eyes. We don’t simply have different priorities or even different values; it’s like we are living in different worlds.

I have read, e.g. by Jonathan Haidt, that conservatives largely understand what liberals want, but liberals don’t really understand what conservatives want. (I would like to take one of the tests they use in these experiments, see how I actually do; but I’ve never been able to find one.)

Haidt’s particular argument seems to be that liberals don’t “understand” the “moral dimensions” of loyalty, authority, and sanctity, because we only “understand” harm and fairness as the basis of morality. But just because someone says something is morally relevant, that doesn’t mean it is morally relevant! And indeed, based on more or less the entirety of ethical philosophy, I can say that harm and fairness are morality, and the others simply aren’t. They are distortions of morality, they are inherently evil, and we are right to oppose them at every turn. Loyalty, authority, and sanctity are what fed Nazi Germany and the Spanish Inquisition.

This claim that liberals don’t understand conservatives has always seemed very odd to me: I feel like I have a pretty clear idea what conservatives want, it’s just that what they want is terrible: Kick out the immigrants, take money from the poor and give it to the rich, and put rich straight Christian White men back in charge of everything. (I mean, really, if that’s not what they want, why do they keep voting for people who do it? Revealed preferences, people!)

Or, more sympathetically: They want to go back to a nostalgia-tinted vision of the 1950s and 1960s in which it felt like things were going well for our country—because they were blissfully ignorant of all the violence and injustice in the world. No, thank you, Black people and queer people do not want to go back to how we were treated in the 1950s—when segregation was legal and Alan Turing was chemically castrated. (And they also don’t seem to grasp that among the things that did make some things go relatively well in that period were unions, antitrust law and progressive taxes, which conservatives now fight against at every turn.)

But I think maybe part of what’s actually happening here is that a lot of conservatives actually “want” things that literally don’t make sense, because they rest upon assumptions about the world that simply aren’t true.

They want to end “out of control” crime that is the lowest it’s been in decades.

They want to stop schools from teaching things that they already aren’t teaching.

They want the immigrants to stop bringing drugs and crime that they aren’t bringing.

They want LGBT people to stop converting their children, which we already don’t and couldn’t. (And then they want to do their own conversions in the other direction—which also don’t work, but cause tremendous harm.)

They want liberal professors to stop indoctrinating their students in ways we already aren’t and can’t. (If we could indoctrinate our students, don’t you think we’d at least make them read the syllabus?)

They want to cut government spending by eliminating “waste” and “fraud” that are trivial amounts, without cutting the things that are actually expensive, like Social Security, Medicare, and the military. They think we can balance the budget without cutting these things or raising taxes—which is just literally mathematically impossible.

They want to close off trade to bring back jobs that were sent offshore—but those jobs weren’t sent offshore, they were replaced by robots. (US manufacturing output is near its highest ever, even though manufacturing employment is half what it once was.)

And meanwhile, there’s a bunch of real problems that aren’t getting addressed: Soaring inequality, a dysfunctional healthcare system, climate change, the economic upheaval of AI—and they either don’t care about those, aren’t paying attention to them, or don’t even believe they exist.

It feels a bit like this:

You walk into a room and someone points a gun at you, shouting “Drop the weapon!” but you’re not carrying a weapon. And you show your hands, and try to explain that you don’t have a weapon, but they just keep shouting “Drop the weapon!” over and over again. Someone else has already convinced them that you have a weapon, and they expect you to drop that weapon, and nothing you say can change their mind about this.

What exactly should you do in that situation?

How do you avoid getting shot?

Do you drop something else and say it’s the weapon (make some kind of minor concession that looks vaguely like what they asked for)? Do you try to convince them that you have a right to the weapon (accept their false premise but try to negotiate around it)? Do you just run away (leave the country?)? Do you double down and try even harder to convince them that you really, truly, have no weapon?

I’m not saying that everyone on the left has a completely accurate picture of reality; there are clearly a lot of misconceptions on this side of the aisle as well. But at least among the mainstream center left, there seems to be a respect for objective statistics and a generally accurate perception of how the world works—the “reality-based community”. Sometimes liberals make mistakes, have bad ideas, or even tell lies; but I don’t hear a lot of liberals trying to fix problems that don’t exist or asking for the government budget to be changed in ways that violate basic arithmetic.

I really don’t know what do here, though.

How do you change people’s minds when they won’t even agree on the basic facts?

Bayesian updating with irrational belief change

2025-07-272025-07-21 PNRJ cognitive science, core principles, critique of neoclassical economics, ethics, heuristics and biases, personal, tribal paradigm atheism, atheist, Bayes, Bayesian, belief, belief change, Bernoulli distribution, bounded rationality, Christian, cognitive behavioral therapy, evangelical, expectation, expected value, golf, Holocaust, Holocaust denial, ideology, meme, memetics, mere-exposure, rational, rationality, Swampman, therapy, truth, variance

Jul 27 JDN 2460884

For the last few weeks I’ve been working at a golf course. (It’s a bit of an odd situation: I’m not actually employed by the golf course; I’m contracted by a nonprofit to be a “job coach” for a group of youths who are part of a work program that involves them working at the golf course.)

I hate golf. I have always hated golf. I find it boring and pointless—which, to be fair, is my reaction to most sports—and also an enormous waste of land and water. A golf course is also a great place for oligarchs to arrange collusion.

But I noticed something about being on the golf course every day, seeing people playing and working there: I feel like I hate it a bit less now.

This is almost certainly a mere-exposure effect: Simply being exposed to something many times makes it feel familiar, and that tends to make you like it more, or at least dislike it less. (There are some exceptions: repeated exposure to trauma can actually make you more sensitive to it, hating it even more.)

I kinda thought this would happen. I didn’t really want it to happen, but I thought it would.

This is very interesting from the perspective of Bayesian reasoning, because it is a theorem (though I cannot seem to find anyone naming the theorem; it’s like a folk theorem, I guess?) of Bayesian logic that the following is true:

The prior expectation of the posterior is the expectation of the prior.

The prior is what you believe before observing the evidence; the posterior is what you believe afterward. This theorem describes a relationship that holds between them.

This theorem means that, if I am being optimally rational, I should take into account all expected future evidence, not just evidence I have already seen. I should not expect to encounter evidence that will change my beliefs—if I did expect to see such evidence, I should change my beliefs right now!

This might be easier to grasp with an example.

Suppose I am trying to predict whether it will rain at 5:00 pm tomorrow, and I currently estimate that the probability of rain is 30%. This is my prior probability.

What will actually happen tomorrow is that it will rain or it won’t; so my posterior probability will either be 100% (if it rains) or 0% (if it doesn’t). But I had better assign a 30% chance to the event that will make me 100% certain it rains (namely, I see rain), and a 70% chance to the event that will make me 100% certain it doesn’t rain (namely, I see no rain); if I were to assign any other probabilities, then I must not really think the probability of rain at 5:00 pm tomorrow is 30%.

(The keen Bayesian will notice that the expected variance of my posterior need not be the variance of my prior: My initial variance is relatively high (it’s actually 0.3*0.7 = 0.21, because this is a Bernoulli distribution), because I don’t know whether it will rain or not; but my posterior variance will be 0, because I’ll know the answer once it rains or doesn’t.)

It’s a bit trickier to analyze, but this also works even if the evidence won’t make me certain. Suppose I am trying to determine the probability that some hypothesis is true. If I expect to see any evidence that might change my beliefs at all, then I should, on average, expect to see just as much evidence making me believe the hypothesis more as I see evidence that will make me believe the hypothesis less. If that is not what I expect, I should really change how much I believe the hypothesis right now!

So what does this mean for the golf example?

Was I wrong to hate golf quite so much before, because I knew that spending time on a golf course might make me hate it less?

I don’t think so.

See, the thing is: I know I’m not perfectly rational.

If I were indeed perfectly rational, then anything I expect to change my beliefs is a rational Bayesian update, and I should indeed factor it into my prior beliefs.

But if I know for a fact that I am not perfectly rational, that there are things which will change my beliefs in ways that make them deviate from rational Bayesian updating, then in fact I should not take those expected belief changes into account in my prior beliefs—since I expect to be wrong later, updating on that would just make me wrong now as well. I should only update on the expected belief changes that I believe will be rational.

This is something that a boundedly-rational person should do that neither a perfectly-rational nor perfectly-irrational person would ever do!

But maybe you don’t find the golf example convincing. Maybe you think I shouldn’t hate golf so much, and it’s not irrational for me to change my beliefs in that direction.

Very well. Let me give you a thought experiment which provides a very clear example of a time when you definitely would think your belief change was irrational.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting the two situations are in any way comparable; the golf thing is pretty minor, and for the thought experiment I’m intentionally choosing something quite extreme.

Here’s the thought experiment.

A mad scientist offers you a deal: Take this pill and you will receive $50 million. Naturally, you ask what the catch is. The catch, he explains, is that taking the pill will make you staunchly believe that the Holocaust didn’t happen. Take this pill, and you’ll be rich, but you’ll become a Holocaust denier. (I have no idea if making such a pill is even possible, but it’s a thought experiment, so bear with me. It’s certainly far less implausible than Swampman.)

I will assume that you are not, and do not want to become, a Holocaust denier. (If not, I really don’t know what else to say to you right now. It happened.) So if you take this pill, your beliefs will change in a clearly irrational way.

But I still think it’s probably justifiable to take the pill. This is absolutely life-changing money, for one thing, and being a random person who is a Holocaust denier isn’t that bad in the scheme of things. (Maybe it would be worse if you were in a position to have some kind of major impact on policy.) In fact, before taking the pill, you could write out a contract with a trusted friend that will force you to donate some of the $50 million to high-impact charities—and perhaps some of it to organizations that specifically fight Holocaust denial—thus ensuring that the net benefit to humanity is positive. Once you take the pill, you may be mad about the contract, but you’ll still have to follow it, and the net benefit to humanity will still be positive as reckoned by your prior, more correct, self.

It’s certainly not irrational to take the pill. There are perfectly-reasonable preferences you could have (indeed, likely dohave) that would say that getting $50 million is more important than having incorrect beliefs about a major historical event.

And if it’s rational to take the pill, and you intend to take the pill, then of course it’s rational to believe that in the future, you will have taken the pill and you will become a Holocaust denier.

But it would be absolutely irrational for you to become a Holocaust denier right now because of that. The pill isn’t going to provide evidence that the Holocaust didn’t happen (for no such evidence exists); it’s just going to alter your brain chemistry in such a way as to make you believe that the Holocaust didn’t happen.

So here we have a clear example where you expect to be more wrong in the future.

Of course, if this really only happens in weird thought experiments about mad scientists, then it doesn’t really matter very much. But I contend it happens in reality all the time:

You know that by hanging around people with an extremist ideology, you’re likely to adopt some of that ideology, even if you really didn’t want to.
You know that if you experience a traumatic event, it is likely to make you anxious and fearful in the future, even when you have little reason to be.
You know that if you have a mental illness, you’re likely to form harmful, irrational beliefs about yourself and others whenever you have an episode of that mental illness.

Now, all of these belief changes are things you would likely try to guard against: If you are a researcher studying extremists, you might make a point of taking frequent vacations to talk with regular people and help yourself re-calibrate your beliefs back to normal. Nobody wants to experience trauma, and if you do, you’ll likely seek out therapy or other support to help heal yourself from that trauma. And one of the most important things they teach you in cognitive-behavioral therapy is how to challenge and modify harmful, irrational beliefs when they are triggered by your mental illness.

But these guarding actions only make sense precisely because the anticipated belief change is irrational. If you anticipate a rational change in your beliefs, you shouldn’t try to guard against it; you should factor it into what you already believe.

This also gives me a little more sympathy for Evangelical Christians who try to keep their children from being exposed to secular viewpoints. I think we both agree that having more contact with atheists will make their children more likely to become atheists—but we view this expected outcome differently.

From my perspective, this is a rational change, and it’s a good thing, and I wish they’d factor it into their current beliefs already. (Like hey, maybe if talking to a bunch of smart people and reading a bunch of books on science and philosophy makes you think there’s no God… that might be because… there’s no God?)

But I think, from their perspective, this is an irrational change, it’s a bad thing, the children have been “tempted by Satan” or something, and thus it is their duty to protect their children from this harmful change.

Of course, I am not a subjectivist. I believe there’s a right answer here, and in this case I’m pretty sure it’s mine. (Wouldn’t I always say that? No, not necessarily; there are lots of matters for which I believe that there are experts who know better than I do—that’s what experts are for, really—and thus if I find myself disagreeing with those experts, I try to educate myself more and update my beliefs toward theirs, rather than just assuming they’re wrong. I will admit, however, that a lot of people don’t seem to do this!)

But this does change how I might tend to approach the situation of exposing their children to secular viewpoints. I now understand better why they would see that exposure as a harmful thing, and thus be resistant to actions that otherwise seem obviously beneficial, like teaching kids science and encouraging them to read books. In order to get them to stop “protecting” their kids from the free exchange of ideas, I might first need to persuade them that introducing some doubt into their children’s minds about God isn’t such a terrible thing. That sounds really hard, but it at least clearly explains why they are willing to fight so hard against things that, from my perspective, seem good. (I could also try to convince them that exposure to secular viewpoints won’t make their kids doubt God, but the thing is… that isn’t true. I’d be lying.)

That is, Evangelical Christians are not simply incomprehensibly evil authoritarians who hate truth and knowledge; they quite reasonably want to protect their children from things that will harm them, and they firmly believe that being taught about evolution and the Big Bang will make their children more likely to suffer great harm—indeed, the greatest harm imaginable, the horror of an eternity in Hell. Convincing them that this is not the case—indeed, ideally, that there is no such place as Hell—sounds like a very tall order; but I can at least more keenly grasp the equilibrium they’ve found themselves in, where they believe that anything that challenges their current beliefs poses a literally existential threat. (Honestly, as a memetic adaptation, this is brilliant. Like a turtle, the meme has grown itself a nigh-impenetrable shell. No wonder it has managed to spread throughout the world.)

Universal human rights are more radical than is commonly supposed

2025-07-132025-08-04 PNRJ core principles, ethics, tribal paradigm abortion, Declaration of Independence, equality, history, human, human rights, humanity, hypocrisy, in-group, out-group, person, personhood, slavery, tribalism, United Nations, universal human rights

Jul 13 JDN 2460870

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

So begins the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. It had to have been obvious to many people, even at the time, how incredibly hypocritical it was for men to sign that document and then go home to give orders to their slaves.

And today, even though the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was signed over 75 years ago, there are still human rights violations ongoing in many different countries—including right here in the United States.

Why is it so easy to get people to declare that they believe in universal human rights—but so hard to get them to actually act accordingly?

Other moral issues are not like this. While hypocrisy certainly exists in many forms, for the most part people’s moral claims align with their behavior. Most people say they are against murder—and sure enough, most people aren’t murderers. Most people say they are against theft—and indeed, most people don’t steal very often. And when it comes to things that most people do all the time, most people aren’t morally opposed to them—even things like eating meat, for which there is a pretty compelling moral case against it.

But universal human rights seems like something that is far more honored in the breach than the observance.

I think this is because most people don’t quite grasp just how radical universal human rights really are.

The tricky part is the universal. They are supposed to apply to everyone.

Even those people. Even the people you are thinking of right now as an exception. Even the people you hate the most. Yes, even them.

Depending on who you are, you might be thinking of different exceptions: People of a particular race, or religion, or nationality, perhaps; or criminals, or terrorists; or bigots, or fascists. But almost everyone has some group of people that they don’t really think deserves the full array of human rights.

So I am here to tell you that, yes, those people too. Universal human rights means everyone.

No exceptions.

This doesn’t mean that we aren’t allowed to arrest and imprison people for crimes. It doesn’t even mean that we aren’t sometimes justified in killing people—e.g. in war or self-defense. But it does mean that there is no one, absolutely no one, who is considered beneath human dignity. Any time we are to deprive someone of life or liberty, we must do so with absolute respect for their fundamental rights.

This also means that there is no one you should be spitting on, no one you should be torturing, no one you should be calling dehumanizing names. Sometimes violence is necessary, to protect yourself, or to preserve liberty, or to overthrow tyranny. But yes, even psychopathic tyrants are human beings, and still deserve human rights. If you cannot recognize a person’s humanity while still defending yourself against them, you need to do some serious soul-searching and ask yourself why not.

I think what happens when most people are asked about “universal human rights”, they essentially exclude whoever they think doesn’t deserve rights from the very category of “human”. Then it essentially becomes a tautology: Everyone who deserves rights deserves rights.

And thus, everyone signs onto it—but it ends up meaning almost nothing. It doesn’t stop racism, or sexism, or police brutality, or mass incarceration, or rape, or torture, or genocide, because the people doing those things don’t think of the people they’re doing them to as actually human.

But no, the actual declaration says all human beings. Everyone. Even the people you hate. Even the people who hate you. Even people who want to torture and kill you. Yes, even them.

This is an incredibly radical idea.

It is frankly alien to a brain that evolved for tribalism; we are wired to think of the world in terms of in-groups and out-groups, and universal human rights effectively declare that everyone is in the in-group and the out-group doesn’t exist.

Indeed, perhaps too radical! I think a reasonable defense could be made of a view that some people (psychopathic tyrants?) really are just so evil that they don’t actually deserve basic human dignity. But I will say this: Usually the people arguing that some group of humans aren’t really humans ends up being on the wrong side of history.

The one possible exception I can think of here is abortion: The people arguing that fetuses are not human beings and it should be permissible to kill them when necessary are, at least in my view, generally on the right side of history. But even then, I tend to be much more sympathetic to the view that abortion, like war and self-defense, should be seen as a tragically necessary evil, not an inherent good. The ideal scenario would be to never need it, and allowing it when it’s needed is simply a second-best solution. So I think we can actually still fit this into a view that fetuses are morally important and deserving of dignity; it’s just that sometimes that the rights of one being can outweigh the rights of another.

And other than that, yeah, it’s pretty much the case that the people who want to justify enacting some terrible harm on some group of people because they say those people aren’t really people, end up being the ones that, sooner or later, the world recognizes as the bad guys.

So think about that, if there is still some group of human beings that you think of as not really human beings, not really deserving of universal human rights. Will history vindicate you—or condemn you?

Quantifying stereotypes

2025-07-062025-07-08 PNRJ cognitive science, core principles, ethics, heuristics and biases, politics, public policy, tribal paradigm education, ethnicity, gender, history, Islam, Islamist terrorism, LGBT, Muslim, politics, race, stereotypes, terrorism, trans, transgender

Jul 6 JDN 2460863

There are a lot of stereotypes in the world, from the relatively innocuous (“teenagers are rebellious”) to the extremely harmful (“Black people are criminals”).

Most stereotypes are not true.

But most stereotypes are not exactly false, either.

Here’s a list of forty stereotypes, all but one of which I got from this list of stereotypes:

(Can you guess which one? I’ll give you a hint: It’s a group I belong to and a stereotype I’ve experienced firsthand.)

“Children are always noisy and misbehaving.”
“Kids can’t understand complex concepts.”
“Children are tech-savvy.”
“Teenagers are always rebellious.”
“Teenagers are addicted to social media.”
“Adolescents are irresponsible and careless.”
“Adults are always busy and stressed.”
“Adults are responsible.”
“Adults are not adept at using modern technologies.”
“Elderly individuals are always grumpy.”
“Old people can’t learn new skills, especially related to technology.”
“The elderly are always frail and dependent on others.”
“Women are emotionally more expressive and sensitive than men.”
“Females are not as good at math or science as males.”
“Women are nurturing, caring, and focused on family and home.”
“Females are not as assertive or competitive as men.”
“Men do not cry or express emotions openly.”
“Males are inherently better at physical activities and sports.”
“Men are strong, independent, and the primary breadwinners.”
“Males are not as good at multitasking as females.”
“African Americans are good at sports.”
“African Americans are inherently aggressive or violent.”
“Black individuals have a natural talent for music and dance.”
“Asians are highly intelligent, especially in math and science.”
“Asian individuals are inherently submissive or docile.”
“Asians know martial arts.”
“Latinos are uneducated.”
“Hispanic individuals are undocumented immigrants.”
“Latinos are inherently passionate and hot-tempered.”
“Middle Easterners are terrorists.”
“Middle Eastern women are oppressed.”
“Middle Eastern individuals are inherently violent or aggressive.”
“White people are privileged and unacquainted with hardship.”
“White people are racist.”
“White individuals lack rhythm in music or dance.”
“Gay men are excessively flamboyant.”
“Gay men have lisps.”
“Lesbians are masculine.”
“Bisexuals are promiscuous.”
“Trans people get gender-reassignment surgery.”

If you view the above 40 statements as absolute statements about everyone in the category (the first-order operator “for all”), they are obviously false; there are clear counter-examples to every single one. If you view them as merely saying that there are examples of each (the first-order operator “there exists”), they are obviously true, but also utterly trivial, as you could just as easily find examples from other groups.

But I think there’s a third way to read them, which may be more what most people actually have in mind. Indeed, it kinda seems uncharitable not to read them this third way.

That way is:

“This is more true of the group I’m talking about than it is true of other groups.”

And that is not only a claim that can be true, it is a claim that can be quantified.

Recall my new favorite effect size measure, because it’s so simple and intuitive; I’m not much for the official name probability of superiority (especially in this context!), so I’m gonna call it the more down-to-earth chance of being higher.

It is exactly what it sounds like: If you compare a quantity X between group A and group B, what is the chance that the person in group A has a higher value of X?

Let’s start at the top: If you take one randomly-selected child, and one randomly-selected adult, what is the chance that the child is one who is more prone to being noisy and misbehaving?

Probably pretty high.

Or let’s take number 13: If you take one randomly-selected woman and one randomly-selected man, what is the chance that the woman is the more emotionally expressive one?

Definitely more than half.

Or how about number 27: If you take one randomly-selected Latino and one randomly-selected non-Latino (especially if you choose a White or Asian person), what is the chance that the Latino is the less-educated one?

That one I can do fairly precisely: Since 95% of White Americans have completed high school but only 75% of Latino Americans have, while 28% of Whites have a bachelor’s degree and only 21% of Latinos do, the probability of the White person being at least as educated as the Latino person is about 82%.

I don’t know the exact figures for all of these, and I didn’t want to spend all day researching 40 different stereotypes, but I am quite prepared to believe that at least all of the following exhibit a chance of being higher that is over 50%:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 36, 37, 38, 40.

You may have noticed that that’s… most of them. I had to shrink the font a little to fit them all on one line.

I think 30 is an important one to mention, because while terrorists are a tiny proportion of the Middle Eastern population, they are in fact a much larger proportion of that population than they are of most other populations, and it doesn’t take that many terrorists to make a place dangerous. The Middle East is objectively a more dangerous place for terrorism than most other places, and only India and sub-Saharan Africa close (and both of which are also largely driven by Islamist terrorism). So while it’s bigoted to assume that any given Muslim or Middle Easterner is a terrorist, it is an objective fact that a disproportionate share of terrorists are Middle Eastern Muslims. Part of what I’m trying to do here is get people to more clearly distinguish between those two concepts, because one is true and the other is very, very false.

40 also deserves particular note, because the chance of being higher is almost certainly very close to 100%. While most trans people don’t get gender-reassignment surgery, virtually all people who get gender-reassignment surgery are trans.

Then again, you could see this as a limitation of the measure, since we might expect a 100% score to mean “it’s true of everyone in the group”, when here it simply means “if we ask people whether they have had gender-reassignment surgery, the trans people sometimes say yes and the cis people always say no.”

We could talk about a weak or strict chance of being higher: The weak chance is the chance of being greater than or equal to (which is the normal measure), while the strict chance is the chance of being strictly greater. In this case, the weak chance is nearly 100%, while the strict chance is hard to estimate but probably about 33% based on surveys.

This doesn’t mean that all stereotypes have some validity.

There are some stereotypes here, including a few pretty harmful ones, for which I’m not sure how the statistics would actually shake out:
10, 14, 22, 23, 25, 32, 35, 39

But I think we should be honestly prepared for the possibility that maybe there is some statistical validity to some of these stereotypes too, and instead of simply dismissing the stereotypes as false—or even bigoted—we should instead be trying to determine how true they are, and also look at why they might have some truth to them.

My proposal is to use the chance of being higher as a measure of the truth of a stereotype.

A stereotype is completely true if it has a chance of being higher of 100%.

It is completely false if it has a chance of being higher of 50%.

And it is completely backwards if it has a chance of being higher of 0%.

There is a unique affine transformation that does this: 2X-1.

100% maps to 100%, 50% maps to 0%, and 0% maps to -100%.

With discrete outcomes, the difference between weak and strong chance of being higher becomes very important. With a discrete outcome, you can have a 100% weak chance but a 1% strong chance, and honestly I’m really not sure whether we should say that stereotype is true or not.

For example, for the claim “trans men get bottom surgery”, the figures would be 100% and 6% respectively. The vast majority of trans men don’t get bottom surgery—but cis men almost never do. (Unless I count penis enlargement surgery? Then the numbers might be closer than you’d think, at least in the US where the vast majority of such surgery is performed.)

And for the claim “Middle Eastern Muslims are terrorists”, well, given two random people of whatever ethnicity or religion, they’re almost certainly not terrorists—but if it one of them is, it’s probably the Middle Eastern Muslim. It may be better in this case to talk about the conditional chance of being higher: If you have two random people, you know that one is a terrorist and one isn’t, and one is a Middle Eastern Muslim and one isn’t, how likely is it that the Middle Eastern Muslim is the terrorist? Probably about 80%. Definitely more than 50%, but also not 100%. So that’s the sense in which the stereotype has some validity. It’s still the case that 99.999% of Middle Eastern Muslims aren’t terrorists, and so it remains bigoted to treat every Middle Eastern Muslim you meet like a terrorist.

We could also work harder to more clearly distinguish between “Middle Easterners are terrorists” and “terrorists are Middle Easterners”; the former is really not true (99.999% are not), but the latter kinda is (the plurality of the world’s terrorists are in the Middle East).

Alternatively, for discrete traits we could just report all four probabilities, which would be something like this: 99.999% of Middle Eastern Muslims are not terrorists, and 0.001% are; 99.9998% of other Americans are not terrorists, and 0.0002% are. Compared to Muslim terrorists in the US, White terrorists actually are responsible for more attacks and a similar number of deaths, but largely because there just are a lot more White people in America.

These issues mainly arise when a trait is discrete. When the trait is itself quantitative (like rebelliousness, or math test scores), this is less of a problem, and the weak and strong chances of being higher are generally more or less the same.

So instead of asking whether a stereotype is true, we could ask: How true is it?

Using measures like this, we will find that some stereotypes probably have quite high truth levels, like 1 and 4; but others, if they are true at all, must have quite low truth levels, like 14; if there’s a difference, it’s a small difference!

The lower a stereotype’s truth level, the less useful it is; indeed, by this measure, it directly predicts how accurate you’d be at guessing someone’s score on the trait if you knew only the group they belong to. If you couldn’t really predict, then why are you using the stereotype? Get rid of it.

Moreover, some stereotypes are clearly more harmful than others.

Even if it is statistically valid to say that Black people are more likely to commit crimes in the US than White people (it is), the kind of person who goes around saying “Black people are criminals” is (1) smearing all Black people with the behavior of a minority of them, and (2) likely to be racist in other ways. So we have good reason to be suspect of people who say such things, even if there may be a statistical kernel of truth to their claims.

But we might still want to be a little more charitable, a little more forgiving, when people express stereotypes. They may make what sounds like a blanket absolute “for all” statement, but actually intend something much milder—something that might actually be true. They might not clearly grasp the distinction between “Middle Easterners are terrorists” and “terrorists are Middle Easterners”, and instead of denouncing them as a bigot immediately, you could try taking the time to listen to what they are saying and carefully explain what’s wrong with it.

Failing to be charitable like this—as we so often do—often feels to people like we are dismissing their lived experience. All the terrorists they can think of were Middle Eastern! All of the folks they know with a lisp turned out to be gay! Lived experience is ultimately anecdotal, but it still has a powerful effect on how people think (too powerful—see also availability heuristic), and it’s really not surprising that people would feel we are treating them unjustly if we immediately accuse them of bigotry simply for stating things that, based on their own experience, seem to be true.

I think there’s another harm here as well, which is that we damage our own credibility. If I believe that something is true and you tell me that I’m a bad person for believing it, that doesn’t make me not believe it—it makes me not trust you. You’ve presented yourself as the sort of person who wants to cover up the truth when it doesn’t fit your narrative. If you wanted to actually convince me that my belief is wrong, you could present evidence that might do that. (To be fair, this doesn’t always work; but sometimes it does!) But if you just jump straight to attacking my character, I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

Toward a positive vision of the future

2025-06-222025-06-16 PNRJ current events, ethics, inequality, politics, tribal paradigm animal welfare, capitalism, climate change, Democrat, doctors, healthcare, housing, ICE, Iran, Israel, LGBT, Mitt Romney, Obamacare, Republican, Russia, segregation, sports, taxes, trans, Trump, Ukraine, wildfire

Jun 22 JDN 2460849

Things look pretty bleak right now. Wildfires rage across Canada, polluting the air across North America. Russia is still at war with Ukraine, and Israel seems to be trying to start a war with Iran. ICE continues sending agents without badges to kidnap people in unmarked vehicles and sending them to undisclosed locations. Climate change is getting worse, and US policy is pivoting from subsidizing renewables back to subsidizing fossil fuels. And Trump, now revealed to be a literal fascist, is still President.

But things can get better.

I can’t guarantee that they will, nor can I say when; but there is still hope that a better future is possible.

It has been very difficult to assemble a strong coalition against the increasingly extreme far-right in this country (epitomized by Trump). This seems odd, when most Americans hold relatively centrist views. Yes, more Americans identify as conservative than as liberal, but Trump isn’t a conservative; he’s a radical far-right fascist. Trump recently gave a speech endorsing ethnic cleansing, for goodness’ sake! I’m liberal, but I’d definitely vote for a conservative like Mitt Romney rather than a Stalinist! So why are “conservatives” voting for a fascist?

But setting aside the question of why people voted for Trump, we still have the question of why the left has not been able to assemble a strong coalition against him.

I think part of the problem is that the left really has two coalitions within it: The center left, who were relatively happy with the status quo before Trump and want to go back to that; and the far left, who were utterly unhappy with that status quo and want radical change. So while we all agree that Trump is awful, we don’t really agree on what he’s supposed to be replaced with.

It’s of course possible to be in between, and indeed I would say that I am. While clearly things were better under Obama and Biden than they have been under Trump, there were still a lot of major problems in this country that should have been priorities for national policy but weren’t:

Above all, climate change—the Democrats at least try to do something against it, but not nearly enough. Our carbon emissions are declining, but it’s very unclear if we’ll actually hit our targets. The way we have been going, we’re in for a lot more hurricanes and wildfires and droughts.
Housing affordability is still an absolute crisis; half of renters spend more than the targeted 30% of their income on housing, and a fourth spend more than 50%.Homelessness is now at a record high.
Healthcare is still far too expensive in this country; we continue to spend far more than other First World countries without getting meaningfully better care.
While rights and protections for LGB people have substantially improved in the last 30 years, rights and protections for trans people continue to lag behind.
Racial segregation in housing remains the de facto norm, even though it is de jure illegal.
Livestock remain exempted from the Animal Welfare Act and in 2002 laboratory rats and mice were excluded as well, meaning that cruel or negligent treatment which would be illegal for cats and dogs is still allowed on livestock and lab rats.
Income and wealth inequality in this country remains staggeringly high, and the super-rich continue to gain wealth at a terrifying rate.
Our voting system is terrible—literally the worst possible system that can technically still be considered democracy.

This list is by no means exhaustive, but these are the issues that seem most salient to me.

2 and 3 both clearly showed up in my Index of Necessary Expenditure; these costs were the primary reason why raising a family of 4 was unaffordable on a median household income.

So it isn’t right to say that I was completely happy with how things were going before. But I still think of myself as center left, because I don’t believe we need to tear everything down and start over.

I have relatively simple recommendations that would go a long way toward solving all 8 of these problems:

Climate change could be greatly mitigated if we’d just tax carbon already, or implement a cap-and-trade system like California’s nationwide. If that’s too politically unpalatable, subsidize nuclear power, fusion research, and renewables instead. That’s way worse from a budget perspective, but for some reason Americans are just fanatically opposed to higher gas prices.

Housing affordability is politically thorny, but economically quite simple: Build more housing. Whatever we have to do to make that happen, we should do it. Maybe this involves changes to zoning or other regulations. Maybe it involves subsidies to developers. Maybe it involves deploying eminent domain to build public housing. Maybe it involves using government funds to build housing and then offering it for sale on the market. But whatever we do, we need more housing.

Healthcare costs are a trickier one; Obamacare helped, but wasn’t enough. I think what I would like to see next is an option to buy into Medicare; before you are old enough to get it for free, you can pay a premium to be covered by it. Because Medicare is much more efficient than private insurance, you could pay a lower premium and get better coverage, so a lot of people would likely switch (which is of course exactly why insurance companies would fight the policy at every turn). Even putting everyone on Medicare might not be enough; to really bring costs down, we may need to seriously address the fact that US doctors, particularly specialists, are just radically higher-paid than any other doctors in the world. Is an American doctor who gets $269,000 per year really 88% better than a French doctor who gets $143,000?

The policies we need for LGBT rights are mostly no-brainers.

Okay, I can admit to some reasonable nuance when it comes to trans women in pro sports (the statistical advantages they have over cis women are not as clear-cut as many people think, but they do seem to exist; average athletic performance for trans women seems to be somewhere in between the average for cis men and the average for cis women), but that’s really not a very important issue. Like, seriously, why do we care so much about pro sports? Either let people play sports according to their self-identified gender, or make the two options “cis women” and “other” and let trans people play the latter. And you can do the same thing with school sports, or you can eliminate them entirely because they are a stupid waste of academic resources; but either way this should not be considered a top priority policy question. (If parents want their kids to play sports, they can form their own leagues; the school shouldn’t be paying for it. Winning games is not one of the goals of an academic institution. If you want kids to get more exercise, give them more recess and reform the physical education system so it isn’t so miserable for the kids who need it most.)

But there is absolutely no reason not to let people use whatever pronouns and bathrooms they want; indeed, there doesn’t really seem to be a compelling reason to gender-segregate bathrooms in the first place, and removing that segregation would most benefit women, who often have to wait much longer in line for the bathroom. (The argument that this somehow protects women never made sense to me; if a man wants to assault women in the bathroom, what’s to stop him from just going into the women’s bathroom? It’s not like there’s a magic field that prevents men from entering. He’s already planning on committing a crime, so it doesn’t seem like he’s very liable to held back by social norms. It’s worthwhile to try to find ways to prevent sexual assault, but segregating bathrooms does little or nothing toward that goal—and indeed, trans-inclusive bathrooms do not statistically correlate with higher rates of sexual assault.) But okay, fine, if you insist on having the segregation, at least require gender-neutral bathrooms as well. This is really not that difficult; it’s pretty clearly bigotry driving this, not serious policy concerns.

Not exempting any vertebrate animals from anti-cruelty legislation is an incredibly simple thing to do, obviously morally better, and the only reason we’re not doing it is that it would hurt agribusinesses and make meat more expensive. There is literally zero question what the morally right thing to do here is; the question is only how to get people to actually do that morally right thing.

Finally, how do we fix income inequality? Some people—including some economists—treat this as a very complicated, difficult question, but I don’t think it is. I think the really simple, obvious answer is actually the correct one: Tax rich people more, and use the proceeds to help poor people. We should be taxing the rich a lot more; I want something like the revenue-maximizing rate, estimated at about 70%. (And an even higher rate like the 90% we had in the 1950s is not out of the question.) These funds could either provide services like education and healthcare, or they could simply be direct cash transfers. But one way or another, the simplest, most effective way to reduce inequality is to tax the rich and help the poor. A lot of economists fear that this would hurt the overall economy, but particularly if these rates are really targeted at the super-rich (the top 0.01%), I don’t see how they could, because all those billions of dollars are very clearly monopoly rents rather than genuine productivity. If anything, making it harder to amass monopoly rents should make the economy more efficient. And taking say 90% of the roughly 10% return just the top 400 billionaires make on their staggering wealth would give us an additional $480 billion per year.

Fixing our voting system is also quite straightforward. Ranked-choice voting would be a huge improvement, and has already been implemented successfully in several states. Even better would be range voting, but so far very few places have been bold enough to actually try it. But even ranked-choice voting would remove most of the terrible incentives that plurality voting creates, and likely allow us to move beyond the two-party system into a much more representative multiparty system.

None of this requires overthrowing the entire system or dismantling capitalism.

That is, we can have a positive vision of the future that doesn’t require revolution or radical change.

Unfortunately, there’s still a very good chance we’ll do none of it.

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