We must not tolerate this brazen authoritarianism

Jul 26 JDN 2459057

Imagine for a moment what this would feel like:

Your girlfriend, who works as an EMT, just got home and went to bed after a long shift. Suddenly you hear banging on your door. “Who is it?” you shout; no answer. “Who is it?” you ask again; still no answer. The banging continues.

You know there is a lot of crime in your neighborhood, so you bought a handgun to protect your family. Since it seems like someone is about to invade your home, now seems like the obvious time to use it. You get the gun, load it, and aim it at the doorway. You hesitate; are you really prepared to pull that trigger? You know that you could kill someone on the other side. But you need to protect your family. So you fire a few shots at the doorway, hoping it will be enough to scare them away.


The response is a hail of bullets from several different directions, several of which hit your girlfriend and kill her while she is asleep.


Then, the door breaks down and several police officers barge in, having never announced themselves as police officers. They arrest you. You learn later that they were serving a so-called “no knock warrant”, which was intended for someone who wasn’t even there. They were never supposed to be in your home in the first place. Your girlfriend is now dead. And then, to top it all off, they have the audacity to charge you with attempted murder of a police officer because you tried to defend your home.

Now imagine what this would feel like as well:

In the evening you joined a protest. It was a peaceful protest, and there were hardly even any police officers around. There was no rioting, no vandalism, no tear gas or rubber bullets; just people holding signs and chanting. It’s now about 2:00 AM, and the protest is ending for the night, so you begin walking home.

Suddenly a van pulls up next to you. It’s completely unmarked; it just looks like a rental car that anybody could have rented. The door slides open and men in tactical body armor leap out of it, pointing rifles at you. They demand that you get in the van with them, and since you think they’re likely to shoot you if you don’t, you comply.

They handcuff you, cover your eyes with your hat, and drive you somewhere. They unload you into a building, then frisk you, photograph you, and rummage through your belongings. Then, they put you into a cell. They have not identified themselves. They have not explained why they abducted you.

Only after they have put you into a cell do they identify themselves as federal agents and start reading you your Miranda rights. They still won’t tell you why you were arrested. They ask you to waive your right to counsel; when you refuse, they leave you there for an hour and a half and then release you. Only as you walk outside do you realize that you had been taken to a federal courthouse.

These stories did not happen in Zimbabwe or Congo or Nicaragua. They did not happen in Russia or China or Venezuela. They happened right here in the United States of America. The first one is the story of Kenneth Walker in Louisville, whose girlfriend Breonna Taylor was murdered by police who didn’t announce that they were police and were never supposed to be in his home. It wasn’t a completely random error; the intended target was someone Breonna Taylor knew. So yes, it was possible that the intended target—who did have a legitimate warrant out for his arrest—might have been present. But how does that justify not even announcing themselves as police?

The second is the story of Mark Pettibone in Portland, who was abducted by anonymous paramilitary forces in an unmarked van. The Department of Homeland Security (an Orwellian name for an agency if ever there were) released a report on the incidents of “violent anarchists” that justified their use of such extreme measures: Most of them are graffiti or vandalism. There are a few genuinely violent incidents in there: Some throwing rocks, some pointing laser pointers at police officers’ eyes, and at least one alleged pipe bomb; but in the whole report there is only one incident listed in which any police officers were injured.

This is authoritarianism. It is not like authoritarianism; it is not moving toward authoritarianism. It is authoritarianism. Secret police in unmarked vehicles abducting people off the street is simply something that should not be allowed to happen in a liberal democracy. Right now it is rare, and for this we should be grateful; but it should not be rare, it should be non-existent. And we should continue fighting until it is. This is not a utopian dream, like imagining that we could make rape or murder non-existent. This is a policy choice. No other First World country does this. (Indeed, are we even a First World country anymore? We were supposed to be the paragon of the First World, but I’m not so sure we even belong in the category anymore.) What we have made rare they have managed to avoid entirely.

While arrest warrants are a necessary part of law enforcement, “no-knock” warrants are inherently authoritarian. Police should be required to identify themselves: Not simply that they are law enforcement, but what agency they work for, their own names and badge numbers, and the reason they are conducting the arrest. A “no-knock” warrant would already be unjust even applied in the best of circumstances (capturing an organized crime boss, perhaps); but typically they are used for drug raids (is criminalizing drugs is even right in the first place?), and in this case the person they wanted wasn’t even there.

Pettibone was at least promptly released. Walker will grieve the loss of his girlfriend for the rest of his life. Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove, the officers who shot Breonna Taylor, have still not been charged.

I wish that I could blame Trump for all of this and promise that it will go away when he loses the election in November (as statistical forecasts strongly predict he will). But while Trump and those who enable him have clearly accelerated and exacerbated this problem, the roots run much deeper.

For many people, particularly Black people, the United States is a de facto police state, and more or less always has been. (In fact, in most ways it’s probably better than it used to be—which isn’t to say that it is remotely acceptable right now, but to point out just how horrific it once was.) Harassment and abuse by police are commonplace, and death at the hands of police is a constant fear. Many of us are blissfully unaware of this, because we live in places where it doesn’t happen. This violence is highly concentrated: Major US cities vary in their races of police homicide by nearly a full order of magnitude.

The power of our government is unmatched. We have the third-largest standing army (after China and India, each of which has four times our population), the fourth-largest police force (in addition to China and India, add Russia to the list—though their population is less than half ours), and the largest incarcerated population in the world. Our military spending is higher than the next ten countries combined. Our intelligence services are not simply the largest in the world; the CIA alone accounts for nearly two-thirds of all worldwide intelligence spending. And while by the CIA is by far the largest, the US has over a dozen other intelligence agencies. When this power is abused—as it all too often is—the whole world feels the pain. We cannot afford to tolerate such abuses. We must stamp them out while we still can.

Getting Trump out won’t fix this. We must get him out, for a hundred thousand reasons, but that will not be nearly enough. Like hairline fractures in a steel beam that become wide gashes when the bridge is loaded, there are deep, structural flaws in our society and our system of government that are now becoming visible under the strain of crisis. I for one believe that these flaws can still be mended. But the longer we wait, the closer we come to a total collapse.

Fear not to “overreact”

Mar 29 JDN 2458938

It could be given as a story problem in an algebra class, if you didn’t mind terrifying your students:

A virus spreads exponentially, so that the population infected doubles every two days. Currently 10,000 people are infected. How long will it be until 300,000 are infected? Until 10,000,000 are infected? Until 600,000,000 are infected?

The answers:

300,000/10,000 is about 32 = 2^5, so it will take 5 doublings, or 10 days.

10,000,000/10,000 is about 1024=2^10, so it will take 10 doublings, or 20 days.

600,000,000/10,000 is about 64*1024=2^6*2^10, so it will take 16 doublings, or 32 days.

This is the approximate rate at which COVID-19 spreads if uncontrolled.

Fortunately it is not completely uncontrolled; there were about 10,000 confirmed infections on January 30, and there are now about 300,000 as of March 22. This is about 50 days, so the daily growth rate has averaged about 7%. On the other hand, this is probably a substantial underestimate, because testing remains very poor, particularly here in the US.

Yet the truth is, we don’t know how bad COVID-19 is going to get. Some estimates suggest it may be nearly as bad as the 1918 flu pandemic; others say it may not be much worse than H1N1. Perhaps all this social distancing and quarantine is an overreaction? Perhaps the damage from closing all the schools and restaurants will actually be worse than the damage from the virus itself?

Yes, it’s possible we are overreacting. But we really shouldn’t be too worried about this possibility.

This is because the costs here are highly asymmetric. Overreaction has a moderate, fairly predictable cost. Underreaction could be utterly catastrophic. If we overreact, we waste a quarter or two of productivity, and then everything returns to normal. If we underreact, millions of people die.

This is what it means to err on the side of caution: If we are not 90% sure that we are overreacting, then we should be doing more. We should be fed up with the quarantine procedures and nearly certain that they are not all necessary. That means we are doing the right thing.

Indeed, the really terrifying thing is that we may already have underreacted. These graphs of what will happen under various scenarios really don’t look good:

pandemic_graph

But there may still be a chance to react adequately. The advice for most of us seems almost too simple: Stay home. Wash your hands.

Monopsony is all around us

Mar 15 JDN 2458924

Perhaps because of the board game (the popularity of which honestly baffles me; it’s really not a very good game!), the concept of monopoly is familiar to most people: A market with one seller and many buyers can command high prices and high profits for the seller.

But the opposite situation, a market with many sellers and one buyer, is equally problematic, yet far less well-known. This is called monopsony. Whereas in a monopoly prices are too high, in a monopsony prices are too low.

I have long suspected, but the data now confirms, that the most widespread form of monopsony occurs in labor markets. This is a particularly bad place for monopsony, because it means that instead of consumer prices being lower, wages will be lower. Monopsonistic labor markets are bad in two ways: They lower wages and they increase unemployment.


Monopsonistic labor markets are one of the reasons why raising minimum wage seems to have very little effect on employment.
In the presence of monopsony, forcing employers to increase wages won’t cause them to fire workers; it will just eat into their profits. In some cases it can actually cause them to hire more workers.

Take a look at this map, from the Roosevelt Institute:

widespread-labor-monopsony1

This map is color-coded by commuting zone, based on whether the average labor market (different labor markets weighted by their number of employees) is monopsonistic. Commuting zones with only a few major employers are colored red, while those with many employers are colored green. In between are shaded orange and yellow. (Not a very colorblind-friendly coding scheme, I’m afraid.)

Basically you can see that the only places where labor markets are not monopsonistic are in major metro areas. Suburban areas are typically yellow, and rural areas are almost all orange or red.


It seems then that we have two choices for where we want to live: We can
live in rural areas and have monopsonistic labor markets with low wages and competitive real estate markets with low housing prices, or we can live in urban areas and have competitive labor markets with high wages and monopolistic real estate markets with high housing prices. There’s hardly anywhere we can live where both wages and housing prices are fair.

Actually the best seems to be Detroit! Median housing price in the Detroit area is an affordable $179,000, while median household income is a low but not terrible $31,000. This means you can pay off a house spending 30% of your income in about 10 years. That’s the American Dream, right there.

Compare this to the San Francisco area, where median housing price is $1.1 million and median income is an impressive $104,000. This means it would take over 35 years to pay off your house spending 30% of your income. (And that’s not accounting for interest!) You can make six figures in San Francisco and still be considered “low income”, because housing prices there are so absurd.

Of course, student loans are denominated in nominal terms, so you might actually be able to pay off your student loans faster living in San Francisco than you could in Detroit. Say taxes are 20%, so these become after-tax incomes of $25,000 and $83,000. Even if you spend only a third of your income on housing in Detroit and spend two-thirds in San Francisco, that leaves you with $16,600 in Detroit but $27,600 in San Francisco. Of course other prices are different too, but it seems quite likely that being able to pay $5,000 per year on your student loans is easier living in San Francisco than it is in Detroit.

What can be done about monopsony in labor markets? First, we could try to split up employers—the FTC already doesn’t do enough to break up monopolies, but it basically does nothing to break up monopsonies. But that may not always be feasible, particularly in rural areas. And there are genuine economies of scale that can make larger firms more efficient in certain ways; we don’t want to lose those.

Perhaps the best solution is the one we used to use, and most of the First World continues to use: Labor unions. Union membership in the US declined by half in the last 30 years. Europe is heavily unionized, and the most unionized of all are Scandinavian countries—probably not a coincidence that these are the most prosperous places in the world.


At first glance, labor unions seem anti-competitive: They act like a monopoly. But when you currently have a
monopsony, adding a monopoly can actually be a good thing. Instead of one seller and many buyers, resulting in prices that are too low, you can have one seller and one buyer, resulting in prices that are negotiated and can, at least potentially, be much fairer. This market structure is called a bilateral monopoly, and while it’s not as good as perfect competition, it’s considerably more efficient than either monopsony or monopoly alone.

A Socratic open letter to transphobes everywhere

Feb 23 JDN 2458903

This post is a bit different than usual. This is an open letter to those who doubt that trans people actually exist, or insist on using the wrong pronouns; above all it is an open letter to those who want to discriminate against trans people, denying trans people civil rights or the dignity to use public bathrooms in peace. Most of my readers are probably not such people, but I think you’ll still benefit from reading it—perhaps you can use some of its arguments when you inevitably encounter someone who is.

Content warning: Because of how sex and gender are tied up together in transphobes’ minds, I’m going to need to talk a little bit about sexual anatomy and genital surgery. If such topics make you uncomfortable, feel free to skip this post.

Dear Transphobe:

First of all, I’m going to assume you are a man. Statistically you probably are, in which case that works. If by chance you’re not, well, now you know what it feels like for people to assume your gender and never correct themselves. You’re almost certainly politically right-wing, so that’s an even safer assumption on my part.

You probably think that gender and sex are interchangeable things, that the idea of a woman born with a penis or a man born without one is utter nonsense. I’m here to hopefully make you question this notion.

Let’s start by thinking about your own identity. You are a man. I presume that you have a penis. I am not going to make the standard insult many on the left would and say that it’s probably a small penis. In fact I have no particular reason to believe that, and in any case the real problem is that we as a society have so thoroughly equated penis size with masculinity with value as a human being. Right-wing attitudes of the sort that lead to discriminating against LGBT people are strongly correlated with aggressive behaviors to assert one’s masculinity. Even if I had good reason—which I assuredly do not—to do so, attacking your masculinity would be inherently counterproductive, causing you to double down on the same aggressive, masculinity-signaling behaviors. If it so happens that you are insecure in your masculinity, I certainly don’t want to make that worse, as masculine insecurity was one of the strongest predictors of voting for Donald Trump. You are a man, and I make no challenges to your masculinity whatsoever. I’m even prepared to concede that you are more manly than I am, whatever you may take that to mean.

Let us consider a thought experiment. Suppose that you were to lose your penis in some tragic accident. Don’t try to imagine the details; I’m sure the mere fact of it is terrifying enough. Suppose a terrible day were to arrive where you wake up in a hospital and find you no longer have a penis.

I have a question for you now: Should such a terrible day arrive, would you cease to be a man?

I contend that you would remain a man. I think that you, upon reflection, would also contend the same. There are a few thousand men in the world who have undergone penectomy, typically as a treatment for genital cancer. You wouldn’t even know unless you saw them naked or they told you. As far as anyone else can tell, they look and act as men, just as they did before their surgery. They are still men, just as they were before.

In fact, it’s quite likely that you would experience a phantom limb effect—where here the limb that is in your self-image but no longer attached to your body is your penis. You would sometimes feel “as if” your penis was still there, because your brain continues to have the neural connections that generate such sensations.

An even larger number of men have undergone castration for various reasons, and while they do often find that their thoughts and behavior change due to the changes in hormone balances, they still consider themselves men, and are generally considered men by others as well. We do not even consider them transgender men; we simply consider them men.

But does this not mean, then, that there is something more to being a man than simply having male anatomy?

Perhaps it has to do with other body parts, or some totality of the male body? Let’s consider another thought experiment then. Suppose that by some bizarre event you were transported into a female body. The mechanism isn’t important: Perhaps it was a mad scientist, or aliens, or magic. But just suppose that somehow or other, while you slept, your brain in its current state was transported into an entirely female body, complete with breasts, vulva, wide hips, narrow shoulders—the whole package. When you awaken, your body is female.

Such a transition would no doubt be distressing and disorienting. People would probably begin to see you as a woman when they looked at you. You would be denied access to men’s spaces you had previously used, and suddenly granted access to women’s spaces you had never before been allowed into. And who knows what sort of effect the hormonal changes would have on your mind?

Particularly if you are sexually attracted to women, you might imagine that you would enjoy this transformation: Now you get to play with female body parts whenever you want! But think about this matter carefully, now: While there might be some upsides, would you really want this change to happen? You have to now wear women’s clothing, use women’s restrooms, cope with a menstrual cycle. Everyone will see you as a woman and treat you as a woman. (How do you treat women, by the way? Is this something you’ve thought carefully about?)

And if you still think that being a woman isn’t so bad, maybe it isn’t—if your mind and body are in agreement. But remember that you’ve still got the mind of a man; you still feel that mental attachment to body parts that are no longer present, and these new body parts you have don’t feel like they are properly your own.

But throughout this harrowing experience, would you still be a man?

Once again I contend that you would. You would now feel a deep conflict between your mind and your body—dare I call it gender dysphoria?—and you would probably long to change your body back to what it was, or at least back to a body that is male.

You would once again experience phantom limb effects—but now all over, everywhere your new body deviated from your original form. In your brain there is a kind of map of where your body parts are supposed to be: Your shoulders are supposed to end here, your legs are supposed to end there, and down here there is supposed to be a penis, not vulva. This map is deeply ingrained into your mind, its billions of strands almost literally woven into the fabric of your brain.

We are presumably born with such a map: By some mindbogglingly complex mix of genetic and environmental factors our brains organize themselves into specific patterns, telling us what kind of body we’re supposed to have. Some of this structuring may go on before birth, some while we are growing up. But surely by the time we are adults the process is complete.

This mental map does allow for some flexibility: When we were young and growing, it allowed us to adjust to our ever-increasing height. Now that we are older, it allows us to adjust to gaining or losing weight. But this flexibility is quite limited: it might take years, or perhaps we could never adjust at all, to finding that we had suddenly grown a tail—or suddenly changed from male to female.

Now imagine that this transformation didn’t happen by some sudden event when you were an adult, but by some quirk of ontogeny while you were still in the womb. Suppose that you were born this way: in a body that is female, but with a mind that is male.

In such a state, surely something is wrong, in the same way that being born with sickle-cell anemia or spina bifida is wrong. There are more ambiguous cases: Is polydactyly a disorder? Sometimes? But surely there are some ways to be born that are worth correcting, and “female body, male mind” seems like one of them.

And yet, this is often precisely how trans people describe their experience. Not always—humans are nothing if not diverse, and trans people are no exception—but quite frequently, they will say that they feel like “a man in a woman’s body” or the reverse. By all accounts, they seem to have precisely this hypothetical condition: The gender of their mind does not match the sex of their body. And since this mismatch causes great suffering, we ought to correct it.

But then the question becomes: Correct it how?

Broadly speaking, it seems we’ve only two options: Change the body, or change the mind. If you were in this predicament, which would you want?

In the case of being transferred into a new body as an adult, I’m quite sure you’d prefer to change your body, and keep your mind as it is. You don’t belong in this new body, and you want your old one back.

Yet perhaps you think that if you were born with this mismatch, things might be different: Perhaps in such a case you think it would make more sense to change the mind to match the body. But I ask you this: Which is more fundamental to who you are? If you are still an infant, we can’t ask your opinion; but what do you suppose you’d say if we could?

Or suppose that you notice the mismatch later, as a child, or even as a teenager. Before that, something felt off somehow, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But now you realize where the problem lies: You were born in a body of the wrong sex. Now that you’ve had years to build up your identity, would you still say that the mind is the right thing to change? Once you can speak, now we can ask you—and we do ask such children, and their answers are nigh-unanimous: They want to change their bodies, not their minds. David Reimer was raised as a girl for years, and yet he always still knew he was a boy and tried to act like one.

In fact, we don’t even know how to change the gender of a mind. Despite literally millennia of civilization trying at great expense to enforce particular gender norms on everyone’s minds, we still get a large proportion of the population deviating substantially from them—if you include mild enough deviations, probably a strict majority. If I seem a soft “soy boy” to you (and, I admit, I am both bisexual and vegetarian—though I already knew I was the former before I became the latter), ask yourself this: Why would I continue to deviate from your so ferociously-enforced gender norms, if it were easy to conform?

Whereas, we do have some idea how to change a body. We have hormonal and surgical treatments that allow people to change their bodies substantially—trans women can grow breasts, trans men can grow beards. Often this is enough to make people feel much more comfortable in their own bodies, and also present themselves in a way that leads others to recognize them as their desired gender.

Sex reassignment surgery is not as reliable, especially for trans men: While building artificial vulva works relatively well, building a good artificial penis still largely eludes us. Yet technological process in this area continues, and we’ve improved our ability to change the sex of bodies substantially in just the last few decades—while, let me repeat, we have not meaningfully improved our ability to change the gender of minds in the last millennium.

If we could reliably change the gender of minds, perhaps that would be an option worth considering. But ought implies can: We cannot be ethically expected to do that which we are simply incapable.

At present, this means that our only real options are two: We can accept the gender of the mind, change the sex of the body, and treat this person as the gender they identify themselves as; or we can demand that they repress and conceal their mental gender in favor of conforming to the standards we have imposed upon them based on their body. The option you may most prefer—accept the body, change the mind—simply is not feasible with any current or foreseeable technology.

We have tried repressing transgender identity for centuries: It has brought endless suffering, depression, suicide.

But now that we are trying to affirm transgender identity the outlook seems much better: Simply having one adult in their life who accepts their gender identity reduces the risk of a transgender child attempting suicide by 40%. Meta-analysis of research on the subject shows that gender transition, while surely no panacea, does overall improve outcomes for transgender people—including reducing risk of depression and suicide. (That site is actually refreshingly nuanced; it does not simply accept either the left-wing or right-wing ideology on the subject, instead delving deeply into the often quite ambiguous evidence.)

Above all, ask yourself: If you ever found yourself in the wrong sort of body, what would you want us to do?

The backfire effect has been greatly exaggerated

Sep 8 JDN 2458736

Do a search for “backfire effect” and you’re likely to get a large number of results, many of them from quite credible sources. The Oatmeal did an excellent comic on it. The basic notion is simple: “[…]some individuals when confronted with evidence that conflicts with their beliefs come to hold their original position even more strongly.”

The implications of this effect are terrifying: There’s no point in arguing with anyone about anything controversial, because once someone strongly holds a belief there is nothing you can do to ever change it. Beliefs are fixed and unchanging, stalwart cliffs against the petty tides of evidence and logic.

Fortunately, the backfire effect is not actually real—or if it is, it’s quite rare. Over many years those seemingly-ineffectual tides can erode those cliffs down and turn them into sandy beaches.

The most recent studies with larger samples and better statistical analysis suggest that the typical response to receiving evidence contradicting our beliefs is—lo and behold—to change our beliefs toward that evidence.

To be clear, very few people completely revise their worldview in response to a single argument. Instead, they try to make a few small changes and fit them in as best they can.

But would we really expect otherwise? Worldviews are holistic, interconnected systems. You’ve built up your worldview over many years of education, experience, and acculturation. Even when someone presents you with extremely compelling evidence that your view is wrong, you have to weigh that against everything else you have experienced prior to that point. It’s entirely reasonable—rational, even—for you to try to fit the new evidence in with a minimal overall change to your worldview. If it’s possible to make sense of the available evidence with only a small change in your beliefs, it makes perfect sense for you to do that.

What if your whole worldview is wrong? You might have based your view of the world on a religion that turns out not to be true. You might have been raised into a culture with a fundamentally incorrect concept of morality. What if you really do need a radical revision—what then?

Well, that can happen too. People change religions. They abandon their old cultures and adopt new ones. This is not a frequent occurrence, to be sure—but it does happen. It happens, I would posit, when someone has been bombarded with contrary evidence not once, not a few times, but hundreds or thousands of times, until they can no longer sustain the crumbling fortress of their beliefs against the overwhelming onslaught of argument.

I think the reason that the backfire effect feels true to us is that our life experience is largely that “argument doesn’t work”; we think back to all the times that we have tried to convince to change a belief that was important to them, and we can find so few examples of when it actually worked. But this is setting the bar much too high. You shouldn’t expect to change an entire worldview in a single conversation. Even if your worldview is correct and theirs is not, that one conversation can’t have provided sufficient evidence for them to rationally conclude that. One person could always be mistaken. One piece of evidence could always be misleading. Even a direct experience could be a delusion or a foggy memory.

You shouldn’t be trying to turn a Young-Earth Creationist into an evolutionary biologist, or a climate change denier into a Greenpeace member. You should be trying to make that Creationist question whether the Ussher chronology is really so reliable, or if perhaps the Earth might be a bit older than a 17th century theologian interpreted it to be. You should be getting the climate change denier to question whether scientists really have such a greater vested interest in this than oil company lobbyists. You can’t expect to make them tear down the entire wall—just get them to take out one brick today, and then another brick tomorrow, and perhaps another the day after that.

The proverb is of uncertain provenance, variously attributed, rarely verified, but it is still my favorite: No single raindrop feels responsible for the flood.

Do not seek to be a flood. Seek only to be a raindrop—for if we all do, the flood will happen sure enough. (There’s a version more specific to our times: So maybe we’re snowflakes. I believe there is a word for a lot of snowflakes together: Avalanche.)

And remember this also: When you argue in public (which includes social media), you aren’t just arguing for the person you’re directly engaged with; you are also arguing for everyone who is there to listen. Even if you can’t get the person you’re arguing with to concede even a single point, maybe there is someone else reading your post who now thinks a little differently because of something you said. In fact, maybe there are many people who think a little differently—the marginal impact of slacktivism can actually be staggeringly large if the audience is big enough.

This can be frustrating, thankless work, for few people will ever thank you for changing their mind, and many will condemn you even for trying. Finding out you were wrong about a deeply-held belief can be painful and humiliating, and most people will attribute that pain and humiliation to the person who called them out for being wrong—rather than placing the blame where it belongs, which is on whatever source or method made you wrong in the first place. Being wrong feels just like being right.

But this is important work, among the most important work that anyone can do. Philosophy, mathematics, science, technology—all of these things depend upon it. Changing people’s minds by evidence and rational argument is literally the foundation of civilization itself. Every real, enduring increment of progress humanity has ever made depends upon this basic process. Perhaps occasionally we have gotten lucky and made the right choice for the wrong reasons; but without the guiding light of reason, there is nothing to stop us from switching back and making the wrong choice again soon enough.

So I guess what I’m saying is: Don’t give up. Keep arguing. Keep presenting evidence. Don’t be afraid that your arguments will backfire—because in fact they probably won’t.

Privatized prisons were always an atrocity

Aug 4 JDN 2458700

Let’s be clear: The camps that Trump built on the border absolutely are concentration camps. They aren’t extermination camps—yet?—but they are in fact “a place where large numbers of people (such as prisoners of war, political prisoners, refugees, or the members of an ethnic or religious minority) are detained or confined under armed guard.” Above all, it is indeed the case that “Persons are placed in such camps often on the basis of identification with a particular ethnic or political group rather than as individuals and without benefit either of indictment or fair trial.”

And I hope it goes without saying that this is an unconscionable atrocity that will remain a stain upon America for generations to come. Trump was clear from the beginning that this was his intention, and thus this blood is on the hands of anyone who voted for him. (The good news is that even they are now having second thoughts: Even a majority of Fox News viewers agrees that Trump has gone too far.)

Yet these camps are only a symptom of a much older disease: We should have seen this sort of cruelty and inhumanity coming when first we privatized prisons.

Krugman makes the point using economics: Without market competition or public view, how can the private sector be kept from abuse, corruption, and exploitation? And this is absolutely true—but it is not the strongest reason.

No, the reason privatized prisons are unjust is much more fundamental than that: Prisons are a direct incursion against liberty. The only institution that should ever have that authority is a democratically-elected government restrained by a constitution.

I don’t care if private prisons were cleaner and nicer and safer and more effective at rehabilitation (as you’ll see from those links, exactly the opposite is true across the board). No private institution has the right to imprison people. No one should be making profits from locking people up.

This is the argument we should have been making for the last 40 years. You can’t privatize prisons, because no one has a right to profit from locking people up. You can’t privatize the military, because no one has a right to profit from killing people. These are basic government functions precisely because they are direct incursions against fundamental rights; though such incursions are sometimes necessary, we allow only governments to make them, because democracy is the only means we have found to keep them from being used indiscriminately. (And even then, there are always abuses and we must remain eternally vigilant.)

Yes, obviously we must shut down these concentration camps as soon as possible. But we can’t stop there. This is a symptom of a much deeper disease: Our liberty is being sold for profit.

“Harder-working” countries are not richer

July 28 JDN 2458693

American culture is obsessed with work. We define ourselves by our professions. We are one of only a handful of countries in the world that don’t guarantee vacations for their workers. Over 50 million Americans suffer from chronic sleep deprivation, mostly due to work. Then again, we are also an extremely rich country; perhaps our obsession with work is what made us so rich?

Well… not really. Take a look at this graph, which I compiled from OECD data:

 

Worker_productivity

The X-axis shows the average number of hours per worker per year. I think this is the best measure of a country’s “work obsession”, as it includes both length of work week, proportion of full-time work, and amount of vacation time. The At 1,786 hours per worker per year, the US is not actually the highest: That title goes to Mexico, at an astonishing 2,148 hours per worker per year. The lowest is Germany at only 1,363 hours per worker per year. Converted into standard 40-hour work weeks, this means that on average Americans work 44 weeks per year, Germans work on average 34 weeks per year, and Mexicans work 54 weeks per year—that is, they work more than full-time every week of the year.

The Y-axis shows GDP per worker per year. I calculated this by multiplying GDP per work hour (a standard measure of labor productivity) by average number of work hours per worker per year. At first glance, these figures may seem too large; for instance they are $114,000 in the US and $154,000 in Ireland. But keep in mind that this is per worker, not per person; the usual GDP per capita figure divides by everyone in the population, while this is only dividing by the number of people who are actively working. Unemployed people are not included, and neither are children or retired people.

There is an obvious negative trend line here. While Ireland is an outlier with exceptionally high labor productivity, the general pattern is clear: the countries with the most GDP per worker actually work the fewest hours. Once again #ScandinaviaIsBetter: Norway and Denmark are near the bottom for work hours and near the top for GDP per worker. The countries that work the most hours, like Mexico and Costa Rica, have the lowest GDP per worker.

This is actually quite remarkable. We would expect that productivity per hour decreases as work hours increase; that’s not surprising at all. But productivity per worker decreasing means that these extra hours are actually resulting in less total output. We are so overworked, overstressed, and underslept that we actually produce less than our counterparts in Germany or Denmark who spend less time working.

Where we would expect the graph of output as a function of hours to look like the blue line below, it actually looks more like the orange line:

Labor_output

Rather than merely increasing at a decreasing rate, output per worker actually decreases as we put in more hours—and does so over most of the range in which countries actually work. It wouldn’t be so surprising if this sort of effect occurred above say 2000 hours per year, when you start running out of time to do anything else; but in fact it seems to be happening somewhere around 1400 hours per year, which is less than most countries work.

Only a handful of countries—mostly Scandinavian—actually seem to be working the right amount; everyone else is working too much and producing less as a result.

And note that this is not restricted to white-collar or creative jobs where we would expect sleep deprivation and stress to have a particularly high impact. This includes all jobs. Our obsession with work is actually making us poorer!

Stop calling it “piracy”

Mar 17 JDN 2458560

It’s a bit of a pet peeve, but much like I insist people use “net wealth” instead of “net worth” (people are not worth more because they have more money!), I find it aggravating that the standard term for copyright infringement for personal use is “piracy”.

The word “piracy” is meant to describe some very severe crimes: Pirates on the high seas board ships to rape, enslave, and murder people. There are still actual pirates today, and they are murderous psychopaths. We glamorize pirates in much the same was as we glamorize organized crime; but the reality of actual piracy is horrific, monstrous violence. This is nothing like the “piracy” of copying songs and video games without permission.

If you need a word for copying songs and video games without permission, how about “unauthorized copying”? That’s what it is. You haven’t stolen anything. You’re not a pirate. You’ve copied something without authorization.

This can still be a harmful thing to do, and there are some cases where I think we rightfully make it illegal. But just from hearing the phrase “unauthorized copying” you can feel the difference: It already sounds like something that isn’t usually so bad and maybe shouldn’t always be against the law.

Indeed, it’s difficult to see exactly where the harm from most unauthorized copying is supposed to be. Even on the RIAA’s inflated estimates assuming that everyone who makes unauthorized copies would have otherwise purchased at retail price (which is clearly not true), total loss to the US music industry from unauthorized copying is less than $3 billion per year, while the total revenue of the music industry in the US is over $22 billion. So we’re talking about a roughly 12% reduction in revenue—and remember that this is an overestimate, because most of the people who make unauthorized copies would not have purchased the music at full price if they didn’t make the copies.

And most of those losses are to the very richest music producers, who are astonishingly rich indeed. The top 9 richest music producers in the US all have net wealth exceeding $100 million. It’s hard for me to see a 12% reduction in revenue for these nine-figure millionaires as a major loss to our society.

It might be a major loss to our society if weaker intellectual property enforcement had a chilling effect on the production of new content. And there is some reason to think that this could happen: Artists make their living selling content, and if that content can be copied for free it will be harder for them to make a living.

But it’s already really hard for most artists to make a living, and they make art anyway. There is no shortage of creative content in the world; indeed, there is an embarrassment of riches that makes it hard for new artists to break in and sometimes even hard for consumers to find the best content. If the goal is actually to support artists, there are obviously much better methods than granting Disney and Viacom totalitarian control over everything we read, hear, and see.

For instance, there are alternative modes of income support for artists that don’t require intellectual property enforcement, such as Patreon and Kickstarter. I make money on this very blog (not a lot mind you, but some extra spending cash) using Patreon without enforcing intellectual property. I’m not sure I could enforce intellectual property on my blog even if I tried.

A universal basic income is another option: Artists mostly create art because they want to, and only need to sell it because, like all humans, they have certain needs for food and shelter that must be met. With a sufficiently generous basic income, I think many artists would choose to share their work for free and live off the basic income, because it was never about making money but about creating art and spreading joy.

Or we could continue to enforce copyright, but in a much more limited manner: Say you get 30 years after publication, and whether or not your work has earned out by then, it goes to public domain and people can do whatever they want with it. Copy it, modify it, turn it into derivative works—yes, even make fanfiction and rule 34 porn, because that’s a form of artistic creation too.

I couldn’t find good data on this, but my suspicion is that most artistic works don’t turn a profit at all, and those that turn a profit generally do so within the first few years. Even if they paid out at a constant nominal rate, at any reasonable interest rate only about the first 30 years would really matter: At 7%, the net present value of $10,000 a year for 30 years is $124,000, while the net present value of $10,000 a year forever is only $143,000. This is because funds received in early years could be invested for that whole time (or used for something urgent and valuable), while funds received later can’t. There’s an old joke that may help you to remember that: “For $50, I’ll give you a million dollars! Such a deal! Oh, by the way, it’s $1 per year for the next million years.”

Extending copyright for decades simply doesn’t make sense if the goal is to support artists. (It makes perfect sense if the goal is to make Disney lobbyists happy.) Continuing to pay royalties for something you made 70 years ago may make you happy, but it wasn’t the incentive to produce that thing in the first place. I have trouble imagining an artist who would be willing to create a work if they received 70 years of royalties, but not if they only received 30 years of royalties.

In fact, economists studying copyright have estimated that the optimal duration of copyright to maximize creative innovation is even shorter than that: Only 15 years. There are a number of reasons for this, but perhaps the most important is that copyright can actually hinder some creativity, by making it harder to build off of the previous work of others. It’s one thing if all you have to do is re-name some characters in a novel and make a few other cosmetic changes (like Fifty Shades of Grey did; it was originally Twilight fanfiction); but that wouldn’t be so simple for a music remix or a video game mod. Depending on how the corporation that owns the original IP reacts, even a mod that looks and plays completely different could land you in court, because it was built on the same engine. There’s a great deal of ambiguity about just what constitutes a copyright violation in game modding.

And if we’re also thinking about patents as well as copyrights, intellectual property protection is the main cause of the high cost of brand-name drugs: People die because of that patent enforcement.

But there are complicated questions here about the proper way to balance the incentives. I think it would help to make the language clearer and less loaded: Don’t say “piracy”. Say “unauthorized copying”.

Government shutdowns are pure waste

Jan 6 JDN 2458490
At the time of writing, the US federal government is still shut down.

The US government has been shut down in this way 22 times—all of them since 1976. Most countries don’t do this. The US didn’t do it for most of our history. Please keep that in mind: This was an entirely avoidable outcome that most countries never go through.

The consequences of a government shutdown are pure waste on an enormous scale. Most government employees get furloughed without pay, which means they miss their credit card and mortgage payments while they wait for their back pay after the shutdown ends. (And this one happened during Christmas!) Contractors have it even worse: They get their contracts terminated and may never see the money they were promised. This has effects on our whole economy; the 2013 shutdown removed a full $24 billion from the US economy, and the current shutdown is expected to drain $6 billion per week. The government itself is taking losses of about $1 billion per week, mostly in the form of unpaid and unaudited taxes.

I personally don’t know what’s going to happen to an NSF grant proposal I’ve been writing for several weeks: Almost the entire NSF has been furloughed as “non-essential” (most of the military remains operative; almost all basic science gets completely shut down—insert comment about the military-industrial complex here), and in 2013 some of the dissertation grants were outright canceled because of the shutdown.

Why do these shutdowns happen?

A government shutdown occurs when the omnibus appropriations bill fails to pass. This bill is essentially the entire US federal budget in a single bill; like any other bill, it has to be passed by both houses of Congress and signed by the President.

For some reason, our government decided that if this process doesn’t happen on schedule, the correct answer is to shut down all non-essential government services. This is a frankly idiotic answer. The obviously correct solution is that if Congress and the President can’t agree on a new budget, the old budget gets renewed in its entirety with a standard COLA inflation adjustment. This really seems incredibly basic: If the government can’t agree on how to change something, the status quo should remain in effect until they do. And the status quo is an inflation-adjusted version of the existing budget.

This particular shutdown occurred because of Donald Trump’s brinksmanship on the border wall: He demanded at least $5 billion, and the House wouldn’t give it to him.

It won’t be much longer before we’ve already lost more money on the shutdown than that $5 billion; this may tempt you to say that the House should give in. But the wall won’t actually do anything to make our nation safer or better, and building it would displace thousands of people by eminent domain and send an unquestionable signal of xenophobia to the rest of the world. Frankly it sickens me that there were not enough principled Republicans to stand their ground against Trump’s madness; but at least there are now Democrats standing theirs.

Make no mistake: This is Trump’s shutdown, and he said so himself. The House even offered to do what should be done by default, which is renew the old budget while negotiations on the border wall continue—Trump refused this offer. And Trump keeps changing his story with every new tweet.

But the real problem is that this is even something the President is allowed to do. Vetoing the old budget should restore the old budget, not furlough hundreds of thousands of workers and undermine government services. This is a ludicrous way to organize a government, and seems practically designed to make our government as inefficient, wasteful, and hated as possible. This was an absolutely unforced error and we should be enacting policy rules that would prevent it from ever happening again.

If you stop destroying jobs, you will stop economic growth

Dec 30 JDN 2458483

One thing that endlessly frustrates me (and probably most economists) about the public conversation on economics is the fact that people seem to think “destroying jobs” is bad. Indeed, not simply a downside to be weighed, but a knock-down argument: If something “destroys jobs”, that’s a sufficient reason to opposite it, whether it be a new technology, an environmental regulation, or a trade agreement. So then we tie ourselves up in knots trying to argue that the policy won’t really destroy jobs, or it will create more than it destroys—but it will destroy jobs, and we don’t actually know how many it will create.

Destroying jobs is good. Destroying jobs is the only way that economic growth ever happens.

I realize I’m probably fighting an uphill battle here, so let me start at the beginning: What do I mean when I say “destroying jobs”? What exactly is a “job”, anyway?
At its most basic level, a job is something that needs done. It’s a task that someone wants to perform, but is unwilling or unable to perform on their own, and is therefore willing to give up some of what they have in order to get someone else to do it for them.

Capitalism has blinded us to this basic reality. We have become so accustomed to getting the vast majority of our goods via jobs that we come to think of having a job as something intrinsically valuable. It is not. Working at a job is a downside. It is something to be minimized.

There is a kind of work that is valuable: Creative, fulfilling work that you do for the joy of it. This is what we are talking about when we refer to something as a “vocation” or even a “hobby”. Whether it’s building ships in bottles, molding things from polymer clay, or coding video games for your friends, there is a lot of work in the world that has intrinsic value. But these things aren’t jobs. No one will pay them to do these things—or need to; you’ll do them anyway.

The value we get from jobs is actually obtained from goods: Everything from houses to underwear to televisions to antibiotics. The reason you want to have a job is that you want the money from that job to give you access to markets for all the goods that are actually valuable to you.

Jobs are the input—the cost—of producing all of those goods. The more jobs it takes to make a good, the more expensive that good is. This is not a rule-of-thumb statement of what usually or typically occurs. This is the most fundamental definition of cost. The more people you have to pay to do something, the harder it was to do that thing. If you can do it with fewer people (or the same people working with less effort), you should. Money is the approximation; money is the rule-of-thumb. We use money as an accounting mechanism to keep track of how much effort was put into accomplishing something. But what really matters is the “sweat of our laborers, the genius of our scientists, the hopes of our children”.

Economic growth means that we produce more goods at less cost.

That is, we produce more goods with fewer jobs.

All new technologies destroy jobs—if they are worth anything at all. The entire purpose of a new technology is to let us do things faster, better, easier—to let us have more things with less work.

This has been true since at least the dawn of the Industrial Revolution.

The Luddites weren’t wrong that automated looms would destroy weaver jobs. They were wrong to think that this was a bad thing. Of course, they weren’t crazy. Their livelihoods were genuinely in jeopardy. And this brings me to what the conversation should be about when we instead waste time talking about “destroying jobs”.

Here’s a slogan for you: Kill the jobs. Save the workers.

We shouldn’t be disappointed to lose a job; we should think of that as an opportunity to give a worker a better life. For however many years, you’ve been toiling to do this thing; well, now it’s done. As a civilization, we have finally accomplished the task that you and so many others set out to do. We have not “replaced you with a machine”; we have built a machine that now frees you from your toil and allows you to do something better with your life. Your purpose in life wasn’t to be a weaver or a coal miner or a steelworker; it was to be a friend and a lover and a parent. You can now get more chance to do the things that really matter because you won’t have to spend all your time working some job.

When we replaced weavers with looms, plows with combine harvesters, computers-the-people with computers-the-machines (a transformation now so complete most people don’t even seem to know that the word used to refer to a person—the award-winning film Hidden Figures is about computers-the-people), tollbooth operators with automated transponders—all these things meant that the job was now done. For the first time in the history of human civilization, nobody had to do that job anymore. Think of how miserable life is for someone pushing a plow or sitting in a tollbooth for 10 hours a day; aren’t you glad we don’t have to do that anymore (in this country, anyway)?

And the same will be true if we replace radiologists with AI diagnostic algorithms (we will; it’s probably not even 10 years away), or truckers with automated trucks (we will; I give it 20 years), or cognitive therapists with conversational AI (we might, but I’m more skeptical), or construction workers with building-printers (we probably won’t anytime soon, but it would be nice), the same principle applies: This is something we’ve finally accomplished as a civilization. We can check off the box on our to-do list and move on to the next thing.

But we shouldn’t simply throw away the people who were working on that noble task as if they were garbage. Their job is done—they did it well, and they should be rewarded. Yes, of course, the people responsible for performing the automation should be rewarded: The engineers, programmers, technicians. But also the people who were doing the task in the meantime, making sure that the work got done while those other people were spending all that time getting the machine to work: They should be rewarded too.

Losing your job to a machine should be the best thing that ever happened to you. You should still get to receive most of your income, and also get the chance to find a new job or retire.

How can such a thing be economically feasible? That’s the whole point: The machines are more efficient. We have more stuff now. That’s what economic growth is. So there’s literally no reason we can’t give every single person in the world at least as much wealth as we did before—there is now more wealth.

There’s a subtler argument against this, which is that diverting some of the surplus of automation to the workers who get displaced would reduce the incentives to create automation. This is true, so far as it goes. But you know what else reduces the incentives to create automation? Political opposition. Luddism. Naive populism. Trade protectionism.

Moreover, these forces are clearly more powerful, because they attack the opportunity to innovate: Trade protection can make it illegal to share knowledge with other countries. Luddist policies can make it impossible to automate a factory.

Whereas, sharing the wealth would only reduce the incentive to create automation; it would still be possible, simply less lucrative. Instead of making $40 billion, you’d only make $10 billion—you poor thing. I sincerely doubt there is a single human being on Earth with a meaningful contribution to make to humanity who would make that contribution if they were paid $40 billion but not if they were only paid $10 billion.

This is something that could be required by regulation, or negotiated into labor contracts. If your job is eliminated by automation, for the next year you get laid off but still paid your full salary. Then, your salary is converted into shares in the company that are projected to provide at least 50% of your previous salary in dividends—forever. By that time, you should be able to find another job, and as long as it pays at least half of what your old job did, you will be better off. Or, you can retire, and live off that 50% plus whatever else you were getting as a pension.

From the perspective of the employer, this does make automation a bit less attractive: The up-front cost in the first year has been increased by everyone’s salary, and the long-term cost has been increased by all those dividends. Would this reduce the number of jobs that get automated, relative to some imaginary ideal? Sure. But we don’t live in that ideal world anyway; plenty of other obstacles to innovation were in the way, and by solving the political conflict, this will remove as many as it adds. We might actually end up with more automation this way; and even if we don’t, we will certainly end up with less political conflict as well as less wealth and income inequality.