What we still have to be thankful for

2025-11-302025-11-24 PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, futurism, inequality, politics, public policy Donald Trump, GiveDirectly, gratitude, health, history, infant mortality, life expectancy, lifespan, medicine, poverty

Nov 30 JDN 2461010

This post has been written before, but will go live after, Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is honestly a very ambivalent holiday.

The particular event it celebrates don’t seem quite so charming in their historical context: Rather than finding peace and harmony with all Native Americans, the Pilgrims in fact allied with the Wampanoag against the Narragansett, though they did later join forces with the Narragansett in order to conquer the Pequot. And of course we all know how things went for most Native American nations in the long run.

Moreover, even the gathering of family comes with some major downsides, especially in a time of extreme political polarization such as this one. I won’t be joining any of my Trump-supporting relatives for dinner this year (and they probably wouldn’t have invited me anyway), but the fact that this means becoming that much more detached from a substantial part of my extended family is itself a tragedy.

This year in particular, US policy has gotten so utterly horrific that it often feels like we have nothing to be thankful for at all, that all we thought was good and just in the world could simply be torn away at a moment’s notice by raving madmen. It isn’t really quite that bad—but it feels that way sometimes.

It also felt a bit uncanny celebrating Thanksgiving a few years ago when we were living in Scotland, for the UK does not celebrate Thanksgiving, but absolutely does celebrate Black Friday: Holidays may be local, but capitalism is global.

But fall feasts of giving thanks are far more ancient than that particular event in 1621 that we have mythologized to oblivion. They appear in numerous cultures across the globe—indeed their very ubiquity may be why the Wampanoag were so willing to share one with the Pilgrims despite their cultures having diverged something like 40,000 years prior.

And I think that it is by seeing ourselves in that context—as part of the whole of humanity—that we can best appreciate what we truly do have to be thankful for, and what we truly do have to look forward to in the future.

Above all, medicine.

We have actual treatments for some diseases, even actual cures for some. By no means all, of course—and it often feels like we are fighting an endless battle even against what we can treat.

But it is worth reflecting on the fact that aside from the last few centuries, this has simply not been the case. There were no actual treatments. There was no real medicine.

Oh, sure, there were attempts at medicine; and there was certainly what we would think of as more like “first aid”: bandaging wounds, setting broken bones. Even amputation and surgery were done sometimes. But most medical treatment was useless or even outright harmful—not least because for most of history, most of it was done without anesthetic or even antiseptic!

There were various herbal remedies for various ailments, some of which even have happened to work: Willow bark genuinely helps with pain, St. John’s wort is a real antidepressant, and some traditional burn creams are surprisingly effective.

But there was no system in place for testing medicine, no way of evaluating what remedies worked and what didn’t. And thus, for every remedy that worked as advertised, there were a hundred more that did absolutely nothing, or even made things worse.

Today, it can feel like we are all chronically ill, because so many of us take so many different pills and supplements. But this is not a sign that we are ill—it is a sign that we can be treated. The pills are new, yes—but the illnesses they treat were here all along.

I don’t see any particular reason to think that Roman plebs or Medieval peasants were any less likely to get migraines than we are; but they certainly didn’t have access to sumatriptan or rimegepant. Maybe they were less likely to get diabetes, but mainly because they were much more likely to be malnourished. (Well, okay, also because they got more exercise, which we surely could stand to.) And they only reason they didn’t get Alzheimer’s was that they usually didn’t live long enough.

Looking further back, before civilization, human health actually does seem to have been better: Foragers were rarely malnourished, weren’t exposed to as many infectious pathogens, and certainly got plenty of exercise. But should a pathogen like smallpox or influenza make it to a forager tribe, the results were often utterly catastrophic.

Today, we don’t really have the sort of plague that human beings used to deal with. We have pandemics, which are also horrible, but far less so. We were horrified by losing 0.3% of our population to COVID; a society that had only suffered 0.3%—or even ten times that, 3%—losses from the Black Death would have been hailed as a miracle, for a more typical rate was 30%.

At 0.3%, most of us knew somebody, or knew somebody who knew somebody, who died from COVID. At 3%, nearly everyone would know somebody, and most would know several. At 30%, nearly everyone would have close family and friends who died.

Then there is infant mortality.

As recently as 1950—this is living memory—the global infant mortality rate was 14.6%. This is about half what it had been historically; for most of human history, roughly a third of all children died between birth and the age of 5.

Today, it is 2.5%.

Where our distant ancestors expected two out of three of their children to survive and our own great-grandparents expected five out of six can now safely expect thirty-nine out of forty to live. This is the difference between “nearly every family has lost a child” and “most families have not lost a child”.

And this is worldwide; in highly-developed countries it’s even better. The US has a relatively high infant mortality rate by the standards of highly-developed countries (indeed, are we even highly-developed, or are we becoming like Saudi Arabia, extremely rich but so unequal that it doesn’t really mean anything to most of our people?). Yet even for us, the infant mortality rate is 0.5%—so we can expect one-hundred-ninety-nine out of two-hundred to survive. This is at the level of “most families don’t even know someone who has lost a child.”

Poverty is a bit harder to measure.

I am increasingly dubious of conventional measures of poverty; ever since compiling my Index of Necessary Expenditure, I am convinced that economists in general, and perhaps US economists in particular, are systematically underestimating the cost of living and thereby underestimating the prevalence of poverty. (I don’t think this is intentional, mind you; I just think it’s a result of using convenient but simplistic measures and not looking too closely into the details.) I think not being able to sustainably afford a roof over your head constitutes being poor—and that applies to a lot of people.

Yet even with that caveat in mind, it’s quite clear that global poverty has greatly declined in the long run.

At the “extreme poverty” level, currently defined as consuming $1.90 at purchasing power parity per day—that’s just under $700 per year, less than 2% of the median personal income in the United States—the number of people has fallen from 1.9 billion in 1990 to about 700 million today. That’s from 36% of the world’s population to under 9% today.

Now, there are good reasons to doubt that “purchasing power parity” really can be estimated as accurately as we would like, and thus it’s not entirely clear that people living on “$2 per day PPP” are really living at less than 2% the standard of living of a typical American (honestly to me that just sounds like… dead); but they are definitely living at a much worse standard of living, and there are a lot fewer people living at such low standard of living today than there used to be not all that long ago. These are people who don’t have reliable food, clean water, or even basic medicine—and that used to include over a third of humanity and does no longer. (And I would like to note that actually finding such a person and giving them a few hundred dollars absolutely would change their life, and this is the sort of thing GiveDirectly does. We may not know exactly how to evaluate their standard of living, but we do know that the actual amount of money they have access to is very, very small.)

There are many ways in which the world could be better than it is.

Indeed, part of the deep, overwhelming outrage I feel pretty much all the time lies in the fact that it would be so easy to make things so much better for so many people, if there weren’t so many psychopaths in charge of everything.

Increased foreign aid is one avenue by which that could be achieved—so, naturally, Trump cut it tremendously. More progressive taxation is another—so, of course, we get tax cuts for the rich.

Just think about the fact that there are families with starving children for whom a $500 check could change their lives; but nobody is writing that check, because Elon Musk needs to become a literal trillionaire.

There are so many water lines and railroad tracks and bridges and hospitals and schools not being built because the money that would have paid for them is tied up in making already unfathomably-rich people even richer.

But even despite all that, things are getting better. Not every day, not every month, not even every year—this past year was genuinely, on net, a bad one. But nearly every decade, every generation, and certainly every century (for at least the last few), humanity has fared better than we did the last.

As long as we can keep that up, we still have much to hope for—and much to be thankful for.

In Nozicem

2025-11-022025-10-24 PNRJ core principles, critique of neoclassical economics, ethics, inequality anarchism, anarchist, anarcho-capitalism, capitalism, history, histroy, libertarian, morality, redistribution, Robert Nozick, Rome, slavery, taxation, theft

Nov 2 JDN 2460982

(I wasn’t sure how to convert Robert Nozick’s name into Latin. I decided it’s a third-declension noun, Nozix, Nozicis. But my name already is Latin, so if one of his followers ever wants to write a response to this post that also references In Catalinam, they’ll know how to decline it; the accusative is Julium, if you please.)

This post is not at all topical. I have been too busy working on video game jams (XBOX Game Camp Detroit, and then the Epic Mega Jam, for which you can view my submission, The Middle of Nowhere, here!) to keep up with the news, and honestly I think I am psychologically better off for it.

Rather, this is a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time, but never quite got around to.

It is about Robert Nozick, and why he was a bad philosopher, a bad person, and a significant source of harm to our society as a whole.

Nozick had a successful career at Harvard, and even became president of the American Philosophical Association. So it may seem that I am going out on quite a limb by saying he’s a bad philosopher.

But the philosophy for which he is best known, the thing that made his career, is not simply obviously false—it is evil. It is the sort of thing that one can only write if one is either a complete psychopath, utterly ignorant of history, or arguing in bad faith (or some combination of these).

It is summarized in this pithy quote that makes less moral sense than the philosophy of the Joker in The Dark Knight:

Taxation of earnings from labor is on a par with forced labor. Seizing the results of someone’s labor is equivalent to seizing hours from him and directing him to carry on various activities.

Anarchy, State, and Utopia (p.169)

I apologize in advance for my language, but I must say it:

NO IT FUCKING ISN’T.

At worst—at the absolute worst, when a government is utterly corrupt and tyrannical, provides no legitimate services whatsoever, contributes in no way to public goods, offers no security, and exists entirely to enrich its ruling class—which by the way is worse than almost any actual government that has ever existed, even including totalitarian dictators and feudal absolute monarchies—at worst, taxation is like theft.

Taxation, like theft, takes your wealth, not your labor.

Wealth is not labor.

Even wealth earned by wage income is not labor—and most wealth isn’t earned by wage income. Elon Musk is now halfway to a trillion dollars, and it’s not because he works a million times harder than you. (Nor is he a million times smarter than you, or even ten—perhaps not even one.) The majority of wealth—and the vast majority of top 1%, top 0.1%, and top 0.01% wealth—is capital that begets more capital, continuously further enriching those who could live just fine without ever working another day in their lives. Billionaire wealth is honestly so pathological at this point that it would be pathetic if it weren’t so appalling.

Even setting aside the historical brutality of slavery as it was actually implemented—especially in the United States, where slaves were racialized and commodified in a way that historically slaves usually weren’t—there is a very obvious, very bright, very hard line between taking someone’s wealth and forcing them to work.

Even a Greek prisoner of war who was bought by a Roman patrician to tutor his children—the sort of slave that actually had significant autonomy and lived better than an average person in Roman society—was fundamentally unfree in a way that no one has ever been made unfree by having to pay income tax. (And the Roman patrician who owned him and (ahem) paid taxes was damn well aware of how much more free he was than his slave.)

Whether you are taxed at 2% or 20% or 90%, you are still absolutely free to use your time however you please. Yes, if you assume a fixed amount of work at a fixed wage, and there are no benefits to you from the taxation (which is really not something we can assume, because having a good or bad government radically affects what your economy as a whole will be like), you will have less stuff, and if you insist for some reason that you must have the same amount of stuff, then you would have to work more.

But even then, you would merely have to work more somewhere—anywhere—in order to make up the shortfall. You could keep your current job, or get another one, or start your own business. And you could at any time decide that you don’t need all that extra stuff and don’t want to work more, and simply choose to not work more. You are, in other words, still free.

At worst, the government has taken your stuff. It has made you poorer. But absolutely not, in no way, shape or form, has it made you a slave.

Yes, there is the concept of “wage slavery”, but “wage slavery” isn’t actually slavery, and the notion that people aren’t really, truly free unless they can provide for basic needs entails the need for a strong, redistributive government, which is the exact opposite of what Robert Nozick and his shockingly large body of followers have been arguing for since the 1970s.

I could have been sympathetic to Nozick if his claim had been this:

Taxation of earnings from labor is on a par with [theft]. Seizing the results of someone’s labor is equivalent to seizing [goods he has purchased with his own earnings].

Or even this:

[Military conscription] is on a par with forced labor. [After all, you are] seizing hours from him and directing him to carry on various activities.

Even then, there are some very clear reasons why we might be willing to accept taxation or even conscription from a legitimate liberal democratic government even though a private citizen doing the same fundamental activity would obviously be illegal and immoral.

Indeed, it’s not clear that theft is always immoral; there is always the Les Miserables exception where someone desperately poor steals food to feed themselves, and a liberal democratic government taxing its citizens in order to provide food stamps seems even more ethically defensible than that.

And that, my friends, is precisely why Nozick wasn’t satisfied with it.

Precisely because there is obvious nuance here that can readily justify at least some degree of not only taxation for national security and law enforcement, but also taxation for public goods and even redistribution of wealth, Nozick could not abide the analogies that actually make sense. He had to push beyond them to an analogy that is transparently absurd, in order to argue for his central message that government is justifiable for national security and law enforcement only, and all other government functions are inherently immoral. Forget clean water and air. Forget safety regulations in workplaces—or even on toys. Forget public utilities—all utilities must be privatized and unregulated. And above all—above all—forget ever taking any money from the rich to help the poor, because that would be monstrous.

If you support food stamps, in Nozick’s view, there should be a statue of you in Mississippi, because you are a defender of slavery.

Indeed, many of his followers have gone beyond that, and argued using the same core premises that all government is immoral, and the only morally justifiable system is anarcho-capitalism—which, I must confess, I have always had trouble distinguishing from feudalism with extra steps.

Nozick’s response to this kind of argument basically seemed to be that he thought anarcho-capitalism will (somehow, magically) automatically transition into his favored kind of minarchist state, and so it’s actually a totally fine intermediate goal. (A fully privatized military and law enforcement system! What could possibly go wrong? It’s not like private prisons are already unconscionably horrible even in an otherwise mostly-democratic system or anything!)

Nozick wanted to absolve himself—and the rich, especially the rich, whom he seemed to love more than life itself—from having to contribute to society, from owing anything to any other human being.

Rather than be moved by our moral appeals that millions of innocent people are suffering and we could so easily alleviate that suffering by tiny, minuscule, barely-perceptible harms to those who are already richer than anyone could possibly deserve to be, he tried to turn the tables: “No, you are immoral. What you want is slavery.”

And in so doing, he created a thin, but shockingly resilient, intellectual veneer to the most craven selfishness and the most ideologically blinkered hyper-capitalism. He made it respectable to oppose even the most basic ways that governments can make human life better; by verbal alchemy he transmuted plain evil into its own new moral crusade.

Indeed, perhaps the only reason his philosophy was ever taken seriously is that the rich and powerful found it very, very, useful.

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.

What does nonviolence mean?

2025-06-152025-06-11 PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, politics, tribal paradigm ACAB, Afghanistan, Afghanistan War, California, civil war, Gandhi, Gavin Newsom, Gestapo, history, human rights, ICE, insurrection, Iraq, Iraq War, Kent State, LAPD, law, Martin Luther King, nonviolence, protest, Reuters, SCAB, Tet Offensive, Trump, United States, US military, Vietnam, Vietnam War, violence, war

Jun 15 JDN 2460842

As I write this, the LA protests and the crackdown upon them have continued since Friday and it is now Wednesday. In a radical and authoritarian move by Trump, Marines have been deployed (with shockingly incompetent logistics unbefitting the usually highly-efficient US military); but so far they have done very little. Reuters has been posting live updates on new developments.

The LAPD has deployed a variety of less-lethal weapons to disperse the protests, including rubber bullets, tear gas, and pepper balls; but so far they have not used lethal force. Protesters have been arrested, some for specific crimes—and others simply for violating curfew.

More recently, the protests have spread to other cities, including New York, Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, San Fransisco, and Philadelphia. By the time this post goes live, there will probably be even more cities involved, and there may also be more escalation.

But for now, at least, the protests have been largely nonviolent.

And I thought it would be worthwhile to make it very clear what I mean by that, and why it is important.

I keep seeing a lot of leftist people on social media accepting the narrative that these protests are violent, but actively encouraging that; and some of them have taken to arrogantly accuse anyone who supports nonviolent protests over violent ones of either being naive idiots or acting in bad faith. (The most baffling part of this is that they seem to be saying that Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi were naive idiots or were acting in bad faith? Is that what they meant to say?)

First of all, let me be absolutely clear that nonviolence does not mean comfortable or polite or convenient.

Anyone objecting to blocking traffic, strikes, or civil disobedience because they cause disorder and inconvenience genuinely does not understand the purpose of protest (or is a naive idiot or acting in bad faith). Effective protests are disruptive and controversial. They cause disorder.

Nonviolence does not mean always obeying the law.

Sometimes the law is itself unjust, and must be actively disobeyed. Most of the Holocaust was legal, after all.

Other times, it is necessary to break some laws (such as property laws, curfews, and laws against vandalism) in the service of higher goals.

I wouldn’t say that a law against vandalism is inherently unjust; but I would say that spray-painting walls and vehicles in the service of protecting human rights is absolutely justified, and even sometimes it’s necessary to break some windows or set some fires.

Nonviolence does not mean that nobody tries to call it violence.

Most governments are well aware that most of their citizens are much more willing to support a nonviolent movement than a violent moment—more on this later—and thus will do whatever they can to characterize nonviolent movements as violence. They have two chief strategies for doing so:

Characterize nonviolent but illegal acts, such as vandalism and destruction of property, as violence
Actively try to instigate violence by treating nonviolent protesters as if they were violent, and then characterizing their attempts at self-defense as violence

As a great example of the latter, a man in Phoenix was arrested for assault because he kicked a tear gas canister back at police. But kicking back a canister that was shot at you is the most paradigmatic example of self-defense I could possibly imagine. If the system weren’t so heavily biased in fair of the police, a judge would order his release immediately.

Nonviolence does not mean that no one at the protests gets violent.

Any large group of people will contain outliers. Gather a protest of thousands of people, and surely some fraction of them will be violent radicals, or just psychopaths looking for an excuse to hurt someone. A nonviolent protest is one in which most people are nonviolent, and in which anyone who does get violent is shunned by the organizers of the movement.

Nonviolence doesn’t mean that violence will never be used against you.

On the contrary, the more authoritarian the regime—and thus the more justified your protest—the more likely it is that violent force will be used to suppress your nonviolent protests.

In some places it will be limited to less-lethal means (as it has so far in the current protests); but in others, even in ostensibly-democratic countries, it can result in lethal force being deployed against innocent people (as it did at Kent State in 1970).

When this happens, are you supposed to just stand there and get shot?

Honestly? Yes. I know that requires tremendous courage and self-sacrifice, but yes.

I’m not going to fault anyone for running or hiding or even trying to fight back (I’d be more of the “run” persuasion myself), but the most heroic action you could possibly take in that situation is in fact to stand there and get shot. Becoming a martyr is a terrible sacrifice, and one I’m not sure it’s one I myself could ever make; but it really, really works. (Seriously, whole religions have been based on this!)

And when you get shot, for the love of all that is good in the world, make sure someone gets it on video.

The best thing you can do for your movement is to show the oppressors for what they truly are. If they are willing to shoot unarmed innocent people, and the world finds out about that, the world will turn against them. The more peaceful and nonviolent you can appear at the moment they shoot you, the more compelling that video will be when it is all over the news tomorrow.

A shockingly large number of social movements have pivoted sharply in public opinion after a widely-publicized martyrdom incident. If you show up peacefully to speak your minds and they shoot you, that is nonviolent protest working. That is your protest being effective.

I never said that nonviolent protest was easy or safe.

What is the core of nonviolence?

It’s really very simple. So simple, honestly, that I don’t understand why it’s hard to get across to people:

Nonviolence means you don’t initiate bodily harm against other human beings.

It does not necessarily preclude self-defense, so long as that self-defense is reasonable and proportionate; and it certainly does not in any way preclude breaking laws, damaging property, or disrupting civil order.

Nonviolence means you never throw the first punch.

Nonviolence is not simply a moral position, but a strategic one.

Some of the people you would be harming absolutely deserve it. I don’t believe in ACAB, but I do believe in SCAB, and nearly 30% of police officers are domestic abusers, who absolutely would deserve a good punch to the face. And this is all the more true of ICE officers, who aren’t just regular bastards; they are bastards whose core job is now enforcing the human rights violations of President Donald Trump. Kidnapping people with their unmarked uniforms and unmarked vehicles, ICE is basically the Gestapo.

But it’s still strategically very unwise for us to deploy violence. Why? Two reasons:

Using violence is a sure-fire way to turn most Americans against our cause.
We would probably lose.

Nonviolent protest is nearly twice as effective as violent insurrection. (If you take nothing else from this post, please take that.)

And the reason that nonviolent protest is so effective is that it changes minds.

Violence doesn’t do that; in fact, it tends to make people rally against you. Once you start killing people, even people who were on your side may start to oppose you—let alone anyone who was previously on the fence.

A successful violent revolution results in you having to build a government and enforce your own new laws against a population that largely still disagrees with you—and if you’re a revolution made of ACAB people, that sounds spectacularly difficult!

A successful nonviolent protest movement results in a country that agrees with you—and it’s extremely hard for even a very authoritarian regime to hang onto power when most of the people oppose it.

By contrast, the success rate of violent insurrections is not very high. Why?

Because they have all the guns, you idiot.

States try to maintain a monopoly on violence in their territory. They are usually pretty effective at doing so. Thus attacking a state when you are not a state puts you at a tremendous disadvantage.

Seriously; we are talking about the United States of America right now, the most powerful military hegemon the world has ever seen.

Maybe the people advocating violence don’t really understand this, but the US has not lost a major battle since 1945. Oh, yes, they’ve “lost wars”, but what that really means is that public opinion has swayed too far against the war for them to maintain morale (Vietnam) or their goals for state-building were so over-ambitious that they were basically impossible for anyone to achieve (Iraq and Afghanistan). If you tally up the actual number of soldiers killed, US troops always kill more than they lose, and typically by a very wide margin.

And even with the battles the US lost in WW1 and WW2, they still very much won the actual wars. So genuinely defeating the United States in open military conflict is not something that has happened since… I’m pretty sure the War of 1812.

Basically, advocating for a violent response to Trump is saying that you intend to do something that literally no one in the world—including major world military powers—has been able to accomplish in 200 years. The last time someone got close, the US nuked them.

If the protests in LA were genuinely the insurrectionists that Trump has been trying to characterize them as, those Marines would not only have been deployed, they would have started shooting. And I don’t know if you realize this, but US Marines are really good at shooting. It’s kind of their thing. Instead of skirmishes with rubber bullets and tear gas, we would have an absolute bloodbath. It would probably end up looking like the Tet Offensive, a battle where “unprepared” US forces “lost” because they lost 6,000 soldiers and “only” killed 45,000 in return. (The US military is so hegemonic that a kill ratio of more than 7 to 1 is considered a “loss” in the media and public opinion.)

Granted, winning a civil war is different from winning a conventional war; even if a civil war broke out, it’s unlikely that nukes would be used on American soil, for instance. But you’re still talking about a battle so uphill it’s more like trying to besiege Edinburgh Castle.

Our best hope in such a scenario, in fact, would probably be to get blue-state governments to assert control over US military forces in their own jurisdiction—which means that antagonizing Gavin Newsom, as I’ve been seeing quite a few leftists doing lately, seems like a really bad idea.

I’m not saying that winning a civil war would be completely impossible. Since we might be able to get blue-state governors to take control of forces in their own states and we would probably get support from Canada, France, and the United Kingdom, it wouldn’t be completely hopeless. But it would be extremely costly, millions of people would die, and victory would by no means be assured despite the overwhelming righteousness of our cause.

How about, for now at least, we stick to the methods that historically have proven twice as effective?

Patriotism for dark times

2025-05-182025-05-19 PNRJ core principles, current events, ethics, inequality, politics, public policy #Scandinaviaisbetter, Britain, British Empire, Chile, colonialism, colonization, concentration camp, empire, England, fascism, France, genocide, hegemony, history, ICE, imperialism, Internet, military, military spending, Pax Americana, Roman Empire, Rome, secret police, South Korea, Trump

May 18 JDN 2460814

These are dark times indeed. ICE is now arresting people without warrants, uniforms or badges and detaining them in camps without lawyers or trials. That is, we now have secret police who are putting people in concentration camps. Don’t mince words here; these are not “arrests” or “deportations”, because those actions would require warrants and due process of law.

Fascism has arrived in America, and, just as predicted, it is indeed wrapped in the flag.

I don’t really have anything to say to console you about this. It’s absolutely horrific, and the endless parade of ever more insane acts and violations of civil rights under Trump’s regime has been seriously detrimental to my own mental health and that of nearly everyone I know.

But there is something I do want to say:

I believe the United States of America is worth saving.

I don’t think we need to burn it all down and start with something new. I think we actually had something pretty good here, and once Trump is finally gone and we manage to fix some of the tremendous damage he has done, I believe that we can put better safeguards in place to stop something like this from happening again.

Of course there are many, many ways that the United States could be made better—even before Trump took the reins and started wrecking everything. But when we consider what we might have had instead, the United States turns out looking a lot better than most of the alternatives.

Is the United States especially evil?

Every nation in the world has darkness in its history. The United States is assuredly no exception: Genocide against Native Americans, slavery, Jim Crow, and the Japanese internment to name a few. (I could easily name many more, but I think you get the point.) This country is certainly responsible for a great deal of evil.

But unlike a lot of people on the left, I don’t think the United States is uniquely or especially evil. In fact, I think we have quite compelling reasons to think that the United States overall has been especially good, and could be again.

How can I say such a thing about a country that has massacred natives, enslaved millions, and launched a staggering number of coups?

Well, here’s the thing:

Every country’s history is like that.

Some are better or worse than others, but it’s basically impossible to find a nation on Earth that hasn’t massacred, enslaved, or conquered another group—and often all three. I guess maybe some of the very youngest countries might count, those that were founded by overthrowing colonial rule within living memory. But certainly those regions and cultures all had similarly dark pasts.

So what actually makes the United States different?

What is distinctive about the United States, relative to other countries? It’s large, it’s wealthy, it’s powerful; that is certainly all true. But other nations and empires have been like that—Rome once was, and China has gained and lost such status multiple times throughout its long history.

Is it especially corrupt? No, its corruption ratings are on a par with other First World countries.

Is it especially unequal? Compared to the rest of the First World, certainly; but by world standards, not really. (The world is a very unequal place.)

But there are two things about the United States that really do seem unique.

The first is how the United States was founded.

Some countries just sort of organically emerged. They were originally tribes that lived in that area since time immemorial, and nobody really knows when they came about; they just sort of happened.

Most countries were created by conquering or overthrowing some other country. Usually one king wanted some territory that was held by another king, so he gathered an army and took over that territory and said it was his now. Or someone who wasn’t a king really wanted to become one, so he killed the current king and took his place on the throne.

And indeed, for most of history, most nations have been some variant of authoritarianism. Monarchy was probably the most common, but there were also various kinds of oligarchy, and sometimes military dictatorship. Even Athens, the oldest recorded “democracy”, was really an oligarchy of Greek male property owners. (Granted, the US also started out pretty much the same way.)

I’m glossing over a huge amount of variation and history here, of course. But what I really want to get at is just how special the founding of the United States was.

The United States of America was the first country on Earth to be designed.

Up until that point, countries just sort of emerged, or they governed however their kings wanted, or they sort of evolved over time as different interest groups jockeyed for control of the oligarchy.

But the Constitution of the United States was something fundamentally new. A bunch of very smart, well-read, well-educated people (okay, mostly White male property owners, with a few exceptions) gathered together to ask the bold question: “What is the best way to run a country?”

And they discussed and argued and debated over this, sometimes finding agreement, other times reaching awkward compromises that no one was really satisfied with. But when the dust finally settled, they had a blueprint for a better kind of nation. And then they built it.

This was a turning point in human history.

Since then, hundreds of constitutions have been written, and most nations on Earth have one of some sort (and many have gone through several). We now think of writing a constitution as what you do to make a country. But before the United States, it wasn’t! A king just took charge and did whatever he wanted! There were no rules; there was no document telling him what he could and couldn’t do.

Most countries for most of history really only had one rule:

L’Etat, c’est moi.

Yes, there was some precedent for a constitution, even going all the way back to the Magna Carta; but that wasn’t created when England was founded, it was foisted upon the king after England had already been around for centuries. And it was honestly still pretty limited in how it restricted the king.

Now, it turns out that the Founding Fathers made a lot of mistakes in designing the Constitution; but I think this is quite forgivable, for two reasons:

They were doing this for the first time. Nobody had ever written a constitution before! Nobody had governed a democracy (even of the White male property-owner oligarchy sort) in centuries!
They knew they would make mistakes—and they included in the Constitution itself a mechanism for amending it to correct those mistakes.

And amend it we have, 27 times so far, most importantly the Bill of Rights and the Fifteenth and Nineteenth Amendments, which together finally created true universal suffrage—a real democracy. And even in 1920 when the Nineteenth Amendment was passed, this was an extremely rare thing. Many countries had followed the example of the United States by now, but only a handful of them granted voting rights to women.

The United States really was a role model for modern democracy. It showed the world that a nation governed by its own people could be prosperous and powerful.

The second is how the United States expanded its influence.

Many have characterized the United States as an empire, because its influence is so strongly felt around the world. It is undeniably a hegemon, at least.

The US military is the world’s most powerful, accounting for by far the highest spending (more than the next 9 countries combined!) and 20 of the world’s 51 aircraft carriers (China has 5—and they’re much smaller). (The US military is arguably not the largest since China has more soldiers and more ships. But US soldiers are much better trained and equipped, and the US Navy has far greater tonnage.) Most of the world’s currency exchange is done in dollars. Nearly all the world’s air traffic control is done in English. The English-language Internet is by far the largest, forming nearly the majority of all pages by itself. Basically every computer in the world either runs as its operating system Windows, Mac, or Linux—all of which were created in the United States. And since the US attained its hegemony after World War 2, the world has enjoyed a long period of relative peace not seen in centuries, sometimes referred to as the Pax Americana. These all sound like characteristics of an empire.

Yet if it is an empire, the United States is a very unusual one.

Most empires are formed by conquest: Rome created an empire by conquering most of Europe and North Africa. Britain created an empire by colonizing and conquering natives all around the globe.

Yet aside from the Native Americans (which, I admit, is a big thing to discount) and a few other exceptions, the United States engaged in remarkably little conquest. Its influence is felt as surely across the globe as Britain’s was at the height of the British Empire, yet where under Britain all those countries were considered holdings of the Crown (until they all revolted), under the Pax Americana they all have their own autonomous governments, most of them democracies (albeit most of them significantly flawed—including the US itself, these days).

That is, the United States does not primarily spread its influence by conquering other nations. It primarily spreads its influence through diplomacy and trade. Its primary methods are peaceful and mutually-beneficial. And the world has become tremendously wealthier, more peaceful, and all around better off because of this.

Yes, there are some nuances here: The US certainly has engaged in a large number of coups intended to decide what sort of government other countries would have, especially in Latin America. Some of these coups were in favor of democratic governments, which might be justifiable; but many were in favor of authoritarian governments that were simply more capitalist, which is awful. (Then again, while the US was instrumental in supporting authoritarian capitalist regimes in Chile and South Korea, those two countries did ultimately turn into prosperous democracies—especially South Korea.)

So it still remains true that the United States is guilty of many horrible crimes; I’m not disputing that. What I’m saying is that if any other nation had been in its place, things would most like have been worse. This is even true of Britain or France, which are close allies of the US and quite similar; both of these countries, when they had a chance at empire, took it by brutal force. Even Norway once had an empire built by conquest—though I’ll admit, that was a very long time ago.

I admit, it’s depressing that this is what a good nation looks like.

I think part of the reason why so many on the left imagine the United States to be uniquely evil is that they want to think that somewhere out there is a country that’s better than this, a country that doesn’t have staggering amounts of blood on its hands.

But no, this is pretty much as good as it gets. While there are a few countries with a legitimate claim to being better (mostly #ScandinaviaIsBetter), the vast majority of nations on Earth are not better than the United States; they are worse.

Humans have a long history of doing terrible things to other humans. Some say it’s in our nature. Others believe that it is the fault of culture or institutions. Likely both are true to some extent. But if you look closely into the history of just about anywhere on Earth, you will find violence and horror there.

What you won’t always find is a nation that marks a turning point toward global democracy, or a nation that establishes its global hegemony through peaceful and mutually-beneficial means. Those nations are few and far between, and indeed are best exemplified by the United States of America.

I can’t not talk about tariffs right now

2025-04-132025-04-07 PNRJ current events, market failure, politics, public policy export, Great Depression, history, import, Krugman, Smoot-Hawley, tariff, tax, tax incidence, trade, Trump

Apr 13 JDN 2460779

On the one hand, I’m sure every economics blog on the Internet is already talking about this, including Paul Krugman who knows the subject way better than I ever will (and literally won a Nobel Prize for his work on it). And I have other things I’d rather be writing about, like the Index of Necessary Expenditure. But on the other hand, when something this big happens in economics, it just feels like there’s really no alternative: I have to talk about tariffs right now.

What is a tariff, anyway?

This feels like a really basic question, but it also seems like a lot of people don’t really understand tariffs, or didn’t when they voted for Trump.

A tariff, quite simply, is an import tax. It’s a tax that you impose on imported goods (either a particular kind, or from a particular country, or just across the board). On paper, it is generally paid by the company importing the goods, but as I wrote about in my sequence on tax incidence, that doesn’t matter. What matters is how prices change in response to the tax, and this means that in real terms, prices will go up.

In fact, in some sense that’s the goal of a protectionist tariff, because you’re trying to fix the fact that local producers can’t compete on the global market. So you compensate by making international firms pay higher taxes, so that the local producers can charge higher prices and still compete. So anyone who is saying that tariffs won’t raise prices is either ignorant or lying: Raising prices is what tariffs do.

Why are people so surprised?

The thing that surprises me about all this, (a bit ironically) is how surprised people seem to be. Trump ran his whole campaign promising two things: Deport all the immigrants, and massive tariffs on all trade. Most of his messaging was bizarre and incoherent, but on those two topics he was very consistent. So why in the world are people—including stock traders, who are supposedly savvy on these things—so utterly shocked that he has actually done precisely what he promised he would do?

What did people think Trump meant when he said these things? Did they assume he was bluffing? Did they think cooler heads in his administration would prevail (if so, whose?)?

But I will admit that even I am surprised at just how big the tariffs are. I knew they would be big, but I did not expect them to be this big.

How big?

Well, take a look at this graph:

The average tariff rate on US imports will now be higher than it was at the peak in 1930 with the Smoot-Hawley Act. Moreover, Smoot-Hawley was passed during a time when protectionist tariffs were already in place, while Trump’s tariffs come at a time when tariffs had previously been near zero—so the change is dramatically more sudden.

This is worse than Smoot-Hawley.

For the uninitiated, Smoot-Hawley was a disaster. Several countries retaliated with their own tariffs, and the resulting trade war clearly exacerbated the Great Depression, not only in the US but around the world. World trade dropped by an astonishing 66% over the next few years. It’s still debated as to how much of the depression was caused by the tariffs; most economists believe that the gold standard was the bigger culprit. But it definitely made it worse.

Politically, the aftermath cost the Republicans (including Smoot and Hawley themselves) several seats in Congress. (I guess maybe the silver lining here is we can hope this will do the same?)

And I would now like to remind you that these tariffs are bigger than Smoot-Hawley’s and were implemented more suddenly.

Unlike in 1930, we are not currently in a depression—though nor is our economy as hunky-dory as a lot of pundits seem to think, once we consider things like the Index of Necessary Expenditure. But stock markets do seem to be crashing, and if trade drops as much as it did in the 1930s—and why wouldn’t it?—we may very well end up in another depression.

And it’s not as if we didn’t warn you all. Economists across the political spectrum have been speaking out against Trump’s tariffs from the beginning, and nobody listened to us.

So basically the mood of all economists right now is:

On land acknowledgments

2024-12-292024-12-22 PNRJ ethics, inequality, tribal paradigm colonialism, ethics, Haudenosaunee, history, imperialism, indigenous, Iroquois, land, land reform, morality, Native, Native American, United States, violence, war

Dec 29 JDN 2460674

Noah Smith and Brad DeLong, both of whom I admire, have recently written about the practice of land acknowledgments. Smith is wholeheartedly against them. DeLong has a more nuanced view. Smith in fact goes so far as to argue that there is no moral basis for considering these lands to be ‘Native lands’ at all, which DeLong rightly takes issue with.

I feel like this might be an issue where it would be better to focus on Native American perspectives. (Not that White people aren’t allowed to talk about it; just that we tend to hear from them on everything, and this is something where maybe they’re less likely to know what they’re talking about.)

It turns out that Native views on land acknowledgments are also quite mixed; some see them as a pointless, empty gesture; others see them as a stepping-stone to more serious policy changes that are necessary. There is general agreement that more concrete actions, such as upholding treaties and maintaining tribal sovereignty, are more important.

I have to admit I’m much more in the ’empty gesture’ camp. I’m only one-fourth Native (so I’m Whiter than I am not), but my own view on this is that land acknowledgments aren’t really accomplishing very much, and in fact aren’t even particularly morally defensible.

Now, I know that it’s not realistic to actually “give back” all the land in the United States (or Australia, or anywhere where indigenous people were forced out by colonialism). Many of the tribes that originally lived on the land are gone, scattered to the winds, or now living somewhere else that they were forced to (predominantly Oklahoma). Moreover, there are now more non-Native people living on that land than there ever were Native people living on it, and forcing them all out would be just as violent and horrific as forcing out the Native people was in the first place.

I even appreciate Smith’s point that there is something problematic about assigning ownership of land to bloodlines of people just because they happened to be the first ones living there. Indeed, as he correctly points out, they often weren’t the first ones living there; different tribes have been feuding and warring with each other since time immemorial, and it’s likely that any given plot of land was held by multiple different tribes at different times even before colonization.

Let’s make this a little more concrete.

Consider the Beaver Wars.

The Beaver Wars were a series of conflicts between the Haudenosaunee (that’s what they call themselves; to a non-Native audience they are better known by what the French called them, Iroquois) and several other tribes. Now, that was after colonization, and the French were involved, and part of what they were fighting over was the European fur trade—so the story is a bit complicated by that. But it’s a conflict we have good historical records of, and it’s pretty clear that many of these rivalries long pre-dated the arrival of the French.

The Haudenosaunee were brutal in the Beaver Wars. They slaughtered thousands, including many helpless civilians, and effectively wiped out several entire tribes, including the Erie and Susquehannock, and devastated several others, including the Mohicans and the Wyandot. Many historians consider these to be acts of genocide. Surely any land that the Haundenosaunee claimed as a result of the Beaver Wars is as illegitimate as land claimed by colonial imperialism? Indeed, isn’t it colonial imperialism?

Yet we have no reason to believe that these brutal wars were unique to the Haundenosaunee, or that they only occurred after colonization. Our historical records aren’t as clear going that far back, because many Native tribes didn’t keep written records—in fact, many didn’t even have a written language. But what we do know suggests that a great many tribes warred with a great many other tribes, and land was gained and lost in warfare, going back thousands of years.

Indeed, it seems to be a sad fact of human history that virtually all land, indigenous or colonized, is actually owned by a group that conquered another group (that conquered another group, that conquered another group…). European colonialism was simply the most recent conquest.

But this doesn’t make European colonialism any more justifiable. Rather, it raises a deeper question:

How should we decide who owns what land?

The simplest way, and the way that we actually seem to use most of the time, is to simply take whoever currently owns the land as its legitimate ownership. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law” was always nonsense when it comes to private property (that’s literally what larceny means!), but when it comes to national sovereignty, it is basically correct. Once a group manages to organize itself well enough to enforce control over a territory, we pretty much say that it’s their territory now and they’re allowed to keep it.

Does that mean that anyone is just allowed to take whatever land they can successfully conquer and defend? That the world must simply accept that chaos and warfare are inevitable? Fortunately, there is a solution to this problem.

The Westphalian solution.

The current solution to this problem is what’s called Westphalian sovereignty, after the Peace of Westphalia, two closely-related treaties that were signed in Westphalia (a region of Germany) in 1648. Those treaties established a precedent in international law that nations are entitled to sovereignty over their own territory; other nations are not allowed to invade and conquer them, and if anyone tries, the whole international community should fight to resist any such attempt.

Effectively, what Westphalia did was establish that whoever controlled a given territory right now (where “right now” means 1648) now gets the right to hold it forever—and everyone else not only has to accept that, they are expected to defend it. Now, clearly this has not been followed precisely; new nations have gained independence from their empires (like the United States), nations have separated into pieces (like India and Pakistan, the Balkans, and most recently South Sudan), and sometimes even nations have successfully conquered each other and retained control—but the latter has been considerably rarer than it was before the establishment of Westphalian sovereignty. (Indeed, part of what makes the Ukraine War such an aberration is that it is a brazen violation of Westphalian sovereignty the likes of which we haven’t seen since the Second World War.)

This was, as far as I can tell, a completely pragmatic solution, with absolutely no moral basis whatsoever. We knew in 1648, and we know today, that virtually every nation on Earth was founded in bloodshed, its land taken from others (who took it from others, who took it from others…). And it was timed in such a way that European colonialism became etched in stone—no European power was allowed to take over another European power’s colonies anymore, but they were all allowed to keep all the colonies they already had, and the people living in those colonies didn’t get any say in the matter.

Since then, most (but by no means all) of those colonies have revolted and gained their own independence. But by the time it happened, there were large populations of former colonists, and the indigenous populations were often driven out, dramatically reduced, or even outright exterminated. There is something unsettling about founding a new democracy like the United States or Australia after centuries of injustice and oppression have allowed a White population to establish a majority over the indigenous population; had indigenous people been democratically represented all along, things would probably have gone a lot differently.

What do land acknowledgments accomplish?

I think that the intent behind land acknowledgments is to recognize and commemorate this history of injustice, in the hopes of somehow gaining some kind of at least partial restitution. The intentions here are good, and the injustices are real.

But there is something fundamentally wrong with the way most land acknowledgments are done, because they basically just push the sovereignty back one step: They assert that whoever held the land before Europeans came along is the land’s legitimate owner. But what about the people before them (and the people before them, and the people before them)? How far back in the chain of violence are we supposed to go before we declare a given group’s conquests legitimate?

How far back can we go?

Most of these events happened many centuries ago and were never written down, and all we have now is vague oral histories that may or may not even be accurate. Particularly when one tribe forces out another, it rather behooves the conquering tribe to tell the story in their own favor, as one of “reclaiming” land that was rightfully theirs all along, whether or not that was actually true—as they say, history is written by the victors. (I think it’s actually more true when the history is never actually written.) And in some cases it’s probably even true! In others, that land may have been contested between the two tribes for so long that nobody honestly knows who owned it first.

It feels wrong to legitimate the conquests of colonial imperialism, but it feels just as wrong to simply push it back one step—or three steps, or seven steps.

I think that ultimately what we must do is acknowledge this entire history.

We must acknowledge that this land was stolen by force from Native Americans, and also that most of those Native Americans acquired their land by stealing it by force from other Native Americans, and the chain goes back farther than we have records. We must acknowledge that this is by no means unique to the United States but in fact a universal feature of almost all land held by anyone anywhere in the world. We must acknowledge that this chain of violence and conquest has been a part of human existence since time immemorial—and affirm our commitment to end it, once and for all.

That doesn’t simply mean accepting the current allocation of land; land, like many other resources, is clearly distributed unequally and unfairly. But it does mean that however we choose to allocate land, we must do so by a fair and peaceful process, not by force and conquest. The chain of violence that has driven human history for thousands of years must finally be brought to an end.

Moral progress and moral authority

2024-12-16 PNRJ core principles, ethics, Logic of Kindness, tribal paradigm Adam Smith, Bible, Catholic Church, Christianity, ethics, faith, history, Jerry Falwell, John Stuart Mill, Kant, Kinsey, Mar, Marx, Mary Woolstonecraft, morality, philosophy, Pope Ratzinger, progress, religion, Socrates

Dec 8 JDN 2460653

In previous posts I’ve written about why religion is a poor source of morality. But it’s worse than that. Religion actually holds us back morally. It is because of religion that our society grants the greatest moral authority to precisely the people and ideas which have most resisted moral progress. Most religious people are good, well-intentioned people—but religious authorities are typically selfish, manipulative, Machiavellian leaders who will say or do just about anything to maintain power. They have trained us to respect and obey them without question; they even call themselves “shepherds” and us the “flock”, as if we were not autonomous humans but obedient ungulates.

I’m sure that most of my readers are shocked that I would assert such a thing; surely priests and imams are great, holy men who deserve our honor and respect? The evidence against such claims is obvious. We only believe such things because the psychopaths have told us to believe them.

I am not saying that these evil practices are inherent to religion—they aren’t. Other zealous, authoritarian ideologies, like Communism and fascism, have been just as harmful for many of the same reasons. Rather, I am saying that religion gives authority and respect to people who would otherwise not have it, people who have long histories of evil, selfish, and exploitative behavior. For a particularly striking example, Catholicism as an idea is false and harmful, but not nearly as harmful as the Catholic Church as an institution, which has harbored some of the worst criminals in history.

The Catholic Church hierarchy is quite literally composed of a cadre of men who use tradition and rhetoric to extort billions of dollars from the poor and who have gone to great lengths to defend men who rape children—a category of human being that normally is so morally reviled that even thieves and murderers consider them beyond the pale of human society. Pope Ratzinger himself, formerly the most powerful religious leader in the world, has been connected with the coverup based on a letter he wrote in 1985. The Catholic Church was also closely tied to Nazi Germany and publicly celebrated Hitler’s birthday for many years; there is evidence that the Vatican actively assisted in the exodus of Nazi leaders along “ratlines” to South America. More recently the Church once again abetted genocide, when in Rwanda it turned away refugees and refused to allow prosecution against any of the perpetrators who were affiliated with the Catholic Church. Yes, that’s right; the Vatican has quite literally been complicit in the worst moral crimes human beings have ever committed. Embezzlement of donations and banning of life-saving condoms seem rather beside the point once we realize that these men and their institutions have harbored genocidaires and child rapists. I can scarcely imagine a more terrible source of moral authority.

Most people respect evangelical preachers, like Jerry Falwell who blamed 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina on feminists, gays, and secularists, then retracted the statement about 9/11 when he realized how much it had offended people. These people have concepts of morality that were antiquated in the 19th century; they base their ethical norms on books that were written by ignorant and cultish nomads thousands of years ago. Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 indeed condemn homosexuality, but Leviticus 19:27 condemns shaving and Leviticus 11:9-12 says that eating fish is fine but eating shrimp is evil. By the way, Leviticus 11:21-22 seems to say that locusts have only four legs, when they very definitely have six and you can see this by looking at one. (I cannot emphasize this enough: Don’t listen to what people say about the book, read the book.)

But we plainly don’t respect scientists or philosophers to make moral and political decisions. If we did, we would have enacted equal rights for LGBT people sometime around 1898 when the Scientific-Humanitarian Committee was founded or at least by 1948 when Alfred Kinsey showed how common, normal, and healthy homosexuality is. Democracy and universal suffrage (for men at least) would have been the norm shortly after 1689 when Locke wrote his Two Treatises of Government. Women would have been granted the right to vote in 1792 upon the publication of Mary Woolstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, instead of in 1920 after a long and painful political battle. Animal rights would have become law in 1789 with the publication of Bentham’s Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation. We should have been suspicious of slavery since at least Kant if not Socrates, but instead it took until the 19th century for slavery to finally be banned. We owe the free world to moral science; but nonetheless we rarely listen to the arguments of moral scientists. As a species we fight for our old traditions even in the face of obvious and compelling evidence to the contrary, and this holds us back—far back. If they haven’t sunk in yet, read these dates again: Society is literally about 200 years behind the cutting edge of moral science. Imagine being 200 years behind in technology; you would be riding horses instead of flying in jet airliners and writing letters with quills instead of texting on your iPhone. Imagine being 200 years behind in ecology; you would be considering the environmental impact of not photovoltaic panels or ethanol but whale oil. This is how far behind we are in moral science.

One subfield of moral science has done somewhat better: The economics of theory and the economics of practice differ by only about 100 years. Capitalism really was instituted on a large scale only a few decades after Adam Smith argued for it, and socialism (while horrifyingly abused in the Communism of Lenin and Stalin) has nonetheless been implemented on a wide scale only a century after Marx. Keynesian stimulus was international policy (despite its numerous detractors) in 2008 and 2020, and Keynes himself died in only 1946. This process is still slower than it probably should be, but at least we aren’t completely ignoring new advances the way we do in ethics. 100 years behind in technology we would have cars and electricity at least.

Except perhaps in economics, in general we entrust our moral claims to the authority of men in tall hats and ornate robes who merely assert their superiority and ties to higher knowledge, while ignoring the thousands of others who actually apply their reason and demonstrate knowledge and expertise. A criminal in pretty robes who calls himself a moral leader might as well be a moral leader, as far as we’re concerned; a genuinely wise teacher of morality who isn’t arrogant enough to assert special revelation from the divine is instead ignored. Why do we do this? Religion. Religion is holding us back.

We need to move beyond religion in order to make real and lasting moral progress.

Medical progress, at least, is real

2024-05-262024-05-19 PNRJ core principles, development economics, futurism, personal acupuncture, alternative medicine, artificial intelligence, chiropractic, climate change, growth, healthcare, history, homeopathy, infant mortality, medicine, migraine, naturopathy, progress, transcranial magnetic stimulation

May 26 JDN 2460457

The following vignettes are about me.

Well, one of them is about me as I actually am. The others are about the person I would have been, if someone very much like me, with the same medical conditions, had been born in a particular place and time. Someone in these times and places probably had actual experiences like this, though of course we’ll never know who they were.

976 BC, the hilled lands near the mouth of the river:

Since I was fourteen years old, I have woken up almost every day in pain. Often it is mild, but occasionally it is severe. It often seems to be worse when I encounter certain plants, or if I awaken too early, or if I exert myself too much, or if a storm is coming. No one knows why. The healers have tried every herb and tincture imaginable in their efforts to cure me, but nothing has worked. The priests believe it is a curse from the gods, but at least they appreciate my ability to sometimes predict storms. I am lucky to even remain alive, as I am of little use to the tribe. I will most likely remain this way the rest of my life.

24 AD, Rome:

Since I was fourteen years old, I have woken up almost every day in pain. Often it is mild, but occasionally it is severe. It often seems to be worse when I encounter certain plants, or if I awaken too early, or if I exert myself too much, or if a storm is coming. No one knows why. The healers have tried every herb and tincture imaginable in their efforts to cure me, but nothing has worked. The priests believe it is a curse from the gods, but at least they appreciate my ability to sometimes predict storms. I am lucky that my family was rich enough to teach me reading and mathematics, as I would be of little use for farm work, but can at least be somewhat productive as a scribe and a tutor. I will most likely remain this way the rest of my life.

1024 AD, England:

Since I was fourteen years old, I have woken up almost every day in pain. Often it is mild, but occasionally it is severe. It often seems to be worse when I encounter certain plants, or if I awaken too early, or if I exert myself too much, or if a storm is coming. No one knows why. The healers have tried every herb and tincture imaginable in their efforts to cure me, but nothing has worked. The priests believe it is a curse imposed upon me by some witchcraft, but at least they appreciate my ability to sometimes predict storms. I am lucky that my family was rich enough to teach me reading and mathematics, as I would be of little use for farm work, but can at least be somewhat productive as a scribe and a tutor. I will most likely remain this way the rest of my life.

2024 AD, Michigan:

Since I was fourteen years old, I have woken up almost every day in pain. Often it is mild, but occasionally it is severe. It often seems to be worse when I encounter certain pollens, fragrances, or chemicals, or if I awaken too early, or if I exert myself too much, or when the air pressure changes before a storm. Brain scans detected no gross abnormalities. I have been diagnosed with chronic migraine, but this is more a description of my symptoms than an explanation. I have tried over a dozen different preventative medications; most of them didn’t work at all, some of them worked but gave me intolerable side effects. (One didn’t work at all and put me in the hospital with a severe allergic reaction.) I’ve been more successful with acute medications, which at least work as advertised, but I have to ration them carefully to avoid rebound effects. And the most effective acute medication is a subcutaneous injection that makes me extremely nauseated unless I also take powerful anti-emetics along with it. I have had the most success with botulinum toxin injections, so I will be going back to that soon; but I am also looking into transcranial magnetic stimulation. Currently my condition is severe enough that I can’t return to full-time work, but I am hopeful that with future treatment I will be able to someday. For now, I can at least work as a writer and a tutor. Hopefully things get better soon.

3024 AD, Aegir 7, Ran System:

For a few months when I was fourteen years old, I woke up nearly every day in pain. Often it was mild, but occasionally it was severe. It often seemed to be worse when I encountered certain pollens, fragrances or chemicals, or if I awakened too early, or if I exerted myself too much, or when the air pressure changed before a storm. Brain scans detected no gross abnormalities, only subtle misfiring patterns. Genetic analysis confirmed I had chronic migraine type IVb, and treatment commenced immediately. Acute medications suppressed the pain while I underwent gene therapy and deep-effect transcranial magnetic stimulation. After three months of treatment, I was cured. That was an awful few months, but it’s twenty years behind me now. I can scarcely imagine how it might have impaired my life if it had gone on that whole time.

What is the moral of this story?

Medical progress is real.

Many people often doubt that society has made real progress. And in a lot of ways, maybe it hasn’t. Human nature is still the same, and so many of the problems we suffer have remained the same.

Economically, of course we have had tremendous growth in productivity and output, but it doesn’t really seem to have made us much happier. We have all this stuff, but we’re still struggling and miserable as a handful at the top become spectacularly, disgustingly rich.

Social progress seems to have gone better: Institutions have improved, more of the world is democratic than ever before, and women and minorities are better represented and better protected from oppression. Rates of violence have declined to some of their lowest levels in history. But even then, it’s pretty clear that we have a long, long way to go.

But medical progress is undeniable. We live longer, healthier lives than at any other point in history. Our infant and child mortality rates have plummeted. Even chronic conditions that seem intractable today (such as my chronic migraines) still show signs of progress; in a few generations they should be cured—in surely far less than the thousand years I’ve considered here.

Like most measures of progress, this change wasn’t slow and gradual over thousands of years; it happened remarkably suddenly. Humans went almost 200,000 years without any detectable progress in medicine, using basically the same herbs and tinctures (and a variety of localized and ever-changing superstitions) the entire time. Some of it worked (the herbs and tinctures, at least), but mostly it didn’t. Then, starting around the 18^th century, as the Enlightenment took hold and Industrial Revolution ramped up, everything began to change.

We began to test our medicine and see if it actually worked. (Yes, amazingly, somehow, nobody had actually ever thought to do that before—not in anything resembling a scientific way.) And when we learned that most of it didn’t, we began to develop new methods, and see if those worked; and when they didn’t either, we tried new things instead—until, finally, eventually, we actually found medicines that actually did something, medicines worthy of the name. Our understanding of anatomy and biology greatly improved as well, allowing us to make better predictions about the effects our medicines would have. And after a few hundred years of that—a few hundred, out of two hundred thousand years of our species—we actually reached the point where most medicine is effective and a variety of health conditions are simply curable or preventable, including diseases like malaria and polio that had once literally plagued us.

Scientific medicine brought humanity into a whole new era of existence.

I could have set the first vignette 10,000 years ago without changing it. But the final vignette I could probably have set only 200 years from now. I’m actually assuming remarkable stagnation by putting it in the 31^st century; but presumably technological advancement will slow at one point, perhaps after we’ve more or less run out of difficult challenges to resolve. (Then again, for all I know, maybe my 31^st century counterpart will be an emulated consciousness, and his chronic pain will be resolved in 17.482 seconds by a code update.)

Indeed, the really crazy thing about all this is that there are still millions of people who don’t believe in scientific medicine, who want to use “homeopathy” or “naturopathy” or “acupuncture” or “chiropractic” or whatever else—who basically want to go back to those same old herbs and tinctures that maybe sometimes kinda worked but probably not and nobody really knows. (I have a cousin who is a chiropractor. I try to be polite about it, but….) They point out the various ways that scientific medicine has failed—and believe me, I am painfully aware of those failures—but then where the obvious solution is to improve scientific medicine, they instead want to turn the whole ship around, and go back to what we had before, which was obviously a million times worse.

And don’t tell me it’s harmless: One, it’s a completewaste of resources that could instead have been used for actual scientific medicine. (9% of all out-of-pocket spending on healthcare in the US is on “alternative medicine”—which is to say, on pointless nonsense.) Two, when you have a chronic illness and people keep shoving nonsense treatments in your face, you start to feel blamed for your condition: “Why haven’t you tried [other incredibly stupid idea that obviously won’t work]? You’re so closed-minded! Maybe your illness isn’t really that bad, or you’d be more desperate!” If “alternative medicine” didn’t exist, maybe these people could help me cope with the challenges of living with a chronic illness, or even just sympathize with me, instead of constantly shoving stupid nonsense in my face.

Not everything about the future looks bright.

In particular, I am pessimistic about the near-term future of artificial intelligence, which I think will cause a lot more problems than it solves and does have a small—but not negligible—risk of causing a global catastrophe.

I’m also not very optimistic about climate change; I don’t think it will wipe out our civilization or anything so catastrophic, but I do think it’s going to kill millions of people and we’ve done too little, too late to prevent that. We’re now doing about what we should have been doing in the 1980s.

But I am optimistic about scientific medicine. Every day, new discoveries are made. Every day, new treatments are invented. Yes, there is a lot we haven’t figured out how to cure yet; but people are working on it.

And maybe they could do it faster if we stopped wasting time on stuff that obviously won’t work.

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Human Economics

Cognitive development economics: Understanding the mind in order to feed the world

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