I hate living in a battleground state,

but it does make for some interesting scientific education about what motivates us:

6 Brainwashing Techniques They’re Using On Your Right Now.

How many of these have you seen lately? (No, I’m not talking about #1 . . . You’ll get that when you get there).

More communist than China, more socialist than France

Add this article to the one below:

How We Became the United States of France

I’m starting to wonder whether, in the “first world” of countries, there is anything other than an awful mix of quasi-capitalism, nationalistic fear-mongering, and big government (e.g. massive taxes and tiny freedoms).

Seriously, the United States certainly had its problems back when freedom meant freedom–everything wasn’t sunshine, rainbows and tulips. And our fledgling nation was helped by seemingly endless natural resources. But we are not the nation we were, and neither major political party seems to have any inclination to look back and try to cull the good from the bad. Instead we look to the new role models of the world–China for national security, France for economic advice, Russia for foreign affairs.

It’s just a truly sad state of affairs, to know that you are living in the decline of power. Had we not abused our position, had we not driven down the road to hell with the bestest of intentions, maybe we’d still lead in education and innovation. Maybe we wouldn’t be looking down our economic backs at the pursuit of China and India.

The most interesting thought to me is that for years conspiracy nuts have been talking about things like the “New World Order” or “One World Government” or whatever . . . where the shadow brokers of power consolidate governmental power worldwide into the UN or some similar body to impose the world onto the United States, to destroy our economy and our values.

Did I miss the takeover? With China adopting more free market policies, with the U.S. government taking over entire industries . . . it looks to me as if the material distinctions between major governments are fading away. Maybe we did miss the invasion, while looking to the government to save us from ourselves. Is there some first world government model that is inescapable whether you are a Constitutional Republic or a one-party authoritarian state? Are modern governments trapped into becoming nearly homogeneous because of the power of the rich and the demands of the poor and middle class?

I don’t know the answers, I only think our direction is a sad one. Neither major Presidential candidate strikes me as truly caring one whit about change. Neither truly wants to change the direction of this country. And whether that change would be massive government control, or Chiacgo-school economic reforms, at least I could respect a candidate that really wanted change. That stood up and fought for something other than a slightly more or less mealy than the status quo that we choke down every day. This path is a slow death spiral towards irrelevance. I wonder how soon we will be able to look for the next paradigm shift in government, the next evolution in moving forward? That will at least be an interesting thing to look towards.

What a wonderful world we live in.

CFI: It’s time for science and reason

Hat tip to Pharyngula.  The message this video has to convey is important, and so I’ll let it speak for itself.

Why are our political ideas so entrenched? Science offers clues.

Thought this was a fascinating article on the correlation between fear and politics:

Political views ‘all in the mind’

You hear a lot of people talk about the “politics of fear”, and it turns out there may be something to that when dealing with the Republican base, and I’m saying that more observationally rather than critically (despite the fact that there are critiques to that approach).

What I don’t like about fear is that it isn’t part of a calculated, considered assessment and response. When you react purely out of fear, your almost random action is just as likely to exacerbate a problem as solve it.

Not being afraid is not the same thing is being stupid. For example, you hear about people fearlessly going into wild animal areas at zoos, and generally that kind of stupidity doesn’t end well. But there are people standing outside the zoo cage who aren’t afraid, but nonetheless conclude that it isn’t a great idea to climb into the hippopotamus habitat at their local zoo. I think this point gets lost on some people in political debates. Libertarians with an isolationist bent when it comes to military deployment are often accused of, essentially, pandering to terrorists–that if we aren’t afraid of terrorists to the point where we are willing to expend vast sums of money to go invade and violate the sovereignty of foreign nations then we must be stupid. Or that our calculated decision that these types of military actions aren’t in our best interest will only egg terrorists on because the terrorists will believe their fear tactics are working–that surely we are reacting out of fear and appeasement of terrorism than out of rational analysis.

Of course, fear isn’t always a bad thing. There isn’t always time to make detailed calculations and analysis; sometimes conviction and action in the face of fear provides an invaluable initiative. It’s just as true of humans as it is of flies (hat tip to io9.com for the link). When dealing with a life-or-death situation, or any highly time-sensitive issue, having conviction and making a fast first move based on stereotypes and other preconceived notions can can be the difference between victory and defeat. Fear can trigger this kind of non-thought action. In other words, victory in such a manner under imminent life-or-death circumstances has its own framework of moral justification, but not so much in other circumstances. A certain demographic or segment of the population believe don’t make that distinction–they believe that winning, in and of itself, is all that is important regardless of principle. But the bottom line is that initiative has deep roots in evolutionary biology, it’s just that the thresholds of fear vary significantly across individuals. And apparently have some direct correlations to our political views.

Fascinating stuff.

What’s the draw of pre-apocalyptic stories?

I read with interest io9.com’s article on the growing popularity of pre-apocalyptic movies, compared to post-apocalyptic movies. The post-apocalyptic concept had big audiences during the Cold War, sparked in my thought by the relative newness of the suddenly-potentially realistic possibility of total nuclear obliteration. Before that, probably the only thing people “realistically” thought could wipe out the entire world was God.

The io9 writer ascribed greater meaning to pre-apocalyptic stories this way:

We may or may not be living in a pre-apocalyptic world right now, but most of us are definitely not living in a post-apocalyptic one. The only thing post-apocalyptic stories tell us is that some of us may survive the end of everything, in whatever reduced circumstances. But pre-apocalyptic stories have a lot more meaning — they tell us how to use our last days, and whether it’s worth struggling against the looming disaster.

I would have gone one step farther than that in the first sentence. I believe one of the biggest draws to pre-apocalyptic movies is not that we may or may not be living in a pre-apocalyptic world, but that from a subjective perspective every day we live is a pre-apocalyptic experience to our ultimate individual apocalypse–our death. Pre-apocalyptic stories about the world are a macro-level view of our own internal dialogue about what we do with our life every day.

A lot of the stories described deal with the knowledge of a future event that is perceived as either unavoidable, or avoidable only at great effort. It’s date may or may not be known. Even in the Termiantor movies when the date “Skynet” was switched on was a known quantity, that was only an “end date” . . . the protagonists had up to that time to affect change, but not more unless intervening events provided more, and quite possibly a lot less. I think our lives are viewed much the same way. I may not know the day I’m going to die, but I know what my life expectancy is (roughly), so I can’t count on having much more than that time, and I may have significantly less time.

In these pre-apocalyptic stories, the protagonists are often trying to, obviously, prevent the apocalyptic event with the kind of fervor that we don’t normally run around with trying to stave off death. But not always true . . . Deep Impact comes to mind, where the apocalypse, at least for some, becomes unavoidable, and how do people deal with that. I think stories like that tend to be more uncomfortable, because they hit closer to home. We are all going to die, and we would rather watch movies about how heroes go about preventing the inevitable than movies about people trying to deal with the inevitable (unless they’re doing something very heroic while grappling with the inevitability, and even then that’s generally frowned upon as not being happy-ending enough). Let’s face it, most of us are, at best, heroes in small ways rather than big ones. Being a good parent, or a good friend, or being a volunteer, or a charitable contributor. Rescuing a dog.

I don’t think it’s necessary to invent artificial apocalypse scenarios, whether it is putting faith in ancient Mayan calculation, or the Biblical warnings of the end of the world (which was originally supposed to have come shortly after Jesus’ death), but I do think it is important to ascertain potential apocalyptic events that have their basis in fact, such as the potential consequences of global warming or how to deflect a giant asteroid, or, if humanity lasts far into the future, how to escape Earth permanently.

At the end of the day, we are all living in our own pre-apocalypse. If you would be unhappy with your legacy if you died tomorrow, then what is holding you up?

One of the earliest stories that made my question my religion.

When I was young, I was a voracious reader. Particularly science fiction and fantasy, but pretty much anything I could get my hands on. I read the Dragonlance Trilogy . . . the whole thing . . . on the way to Florida in the car. I loved the Thomas Covenant series, among others. But science fiction writers really just took a blender to my imagination. I read Bradbury, Clarke, Asimov, and I loved in particular anthologies and collections of short stories. The medium of the short story, and the skill of particularly adept authors–to take a single idea and turn it into a powerful communication of that single idea within just a few pages–always amazed me.

Asimov was by far my favorite science fiction short story author. I have a tattered old copy of a collection of his short stories in my basement that is practically falling apart from use. In that specific and particular book is my favorite short story of all time, The Last Question. It challenged my preconceptions of religion, about what could be. And it does it in a way that is framed, in retrospect, subtly against the backdrop of everything you learn growing up. That is, in part, the genius of it, its introduction of minute dischord. Make it too foreign to your culture, to your frame of reference, and an idea will slide off like water off the back of a duck.

So many things, as we age, turn out to be not as good as we remember them. This short story has always to me bucked that trend. It could be because of the personal value I attach to it, but I read it today and the last lines still make my arm hairs raise on end.

So, if you have the opportunity, I recommend taking a quick read of The Last Question. I am not naive enough to think that it will in any way change the perspective of an adult, entrenched in their thinking–either it will be preaching to the choir, or beating on the brick wall–but you may just enjoy it for what it is, a short story of excellent quality by one of the best writers of the 21st century.

Why does this exchange require a solution to scaling up self-enforcing agreements?

Sometimes you just get too caught up in other things to keep up on a good thing, so it is with a heavy heart that I have missed most of Cato Unbound’s August discussion on Anarchy. Now, to follow up with a blog post, I am responding to content that is ancient by web standards . . . six days.

I want to revisit the exchange being had by Peter Leeson and Dani Rodrik regarding the scale-up of self-enforcing agreements. The contention seems to be that an anarchic system relies on self-enforcing agreements, and that as you scale up such economies, self-enforcing agreements break down. Therefore, self-enforcing agreements (and efficient systems of anarchy in general) only operate effectively in a small scale that may be geographically limited or involve a specific group or community where individuals know one another. Specifically, one of the problems cited is signaling–essentially in a small or closed group it is possible to communicate to the others who is trustworthy and who is not, thus creating disincentive for people to try to circumvent the rules of fair trade and dealing. How can that work on a large scale?

This may be simplistic, but I am learning more and more to trust technologies within markets. Ebay’s user group is fairly large, and is not very contained geographically, yet Ebay seems to have instituted a private system of signaling that has scaled very nicely. It does not, and does not seek to, eliminate bad deals altogether, but by enabling an easy-to-use user ratings system, those that do not abide by the rules of fair trade and dealing are identified, and thus lose out on any portion of their market that choses not to engage in the more risky behavior of conducting transactions with a user having a less-than-optimal reputation. In Ebay’s system, the beauty of the scale-up is that a user who systematically engages in dishonest behavior is actually more visible, not less. Is it possible to game the system? Possibly, but Ebay has a major incentive to monitor the efficiency of the system itself and add technologies that continue to empower users to utilize the market to maximum effectiveness.

I’m not sure exactly what I am missing regarding signaling and scale-up, but wanted to throw out this example and see if I could get some feedback, perhaps from Leeson or Rodrik. If I am Leeson, I think there are ample examples with one one can defend oneself regarding scale-up and technology, even if one cannot figure out definitively how it would be accomplished (a definitive solution which would, even in our current regulated state, make one very rich indeed).

Overall, even when thinking about a Randian system, courts exist to help enforce private agreements, and I’m not 100% convinced in today’s world or modern warfare that a large territory such as The United States could effective defend itself without a government-run standing army (despite evidence that we utilize mercenary groups in Iraq and the Middle East). But this has been a fascinating topic to follow.

Another argument against neoconservatism–Cato Unbound’s August topic, Anarchy.

Cato Unbound’s lead essay for August is on anarchy–a short survey of what it is and how it has functioned at various times in history and today. I think the logic employed by the author is solid enough to form an argument against neoconservatism, or any foreign policy with an aim to export American-style democracy to various parts of the world.

The path by which a country arrives at a certain type of government seems to me to be as important as what that government actually is. These paths take time–often the span of many generations–and they may take routes towards a more enlightened government that are dark and twisted.

Take China. I don’t know what the future holds for China. Some people believe China is going to be the 21st century superpower, others believe China’s prosperity is not sustainable. China’s Communist government has been among the bloodiest in history, and they are still certainly not saints today. However, there is little doubt that some in governance in China have learned from past mistakes–China has moved towards some free market reforms (more markets, more private ownership) in order to better position itself moving into the next century. Is there backsliding? Sure. Can we guarantee in the short term that there won’t be a relapse? Absolutely not. But as our ability to record history improves, as the flow of information becomes harder to suppress (and remain competitive in the world), markets and freedom seem poised to flourish, having proven their success relative to their alternatives.

For impoverished and developing states, it could very well be that periods of anarchy develop the kind of qualities that the people need–culturally–to buy into and sustain a more forward-thinking, enlightened government. As the examples Mr. Leeson’s lead essay uses demonstrate, one or more periods of sustained anarchy may cultivate innovation to address the needs of business, which in turn improves the quality of life (perhaps only from dismal and hopeless to still dismal and hopeless but not quite as much). It proves to the people the value of reputation, trust, and one’s word. These are similar conditions to, at least for times, many parts of the United States in its colonial and expansion days. It may be the underpinning for how we value freedom.

When we go in and set up a government in a country, and the cultural underpinnings are not in place, we have seen how disastrous it can be both for our image in the world and also for the peoples involved. If culturally the value system has not developed and is not robust, then even the most well-intentioned of nation building is doomed to failure. We cannot force that change, and we risk quite a bit even attempting to hurry it along.

That is my take on this month’s Cato Unbound lead essay–a great topic that all libertarians must grapple with IMO because it forces us to confront the same arguments we use against other political philosophies. A libertarian might say to a liberal–if government is so good at procuring services and is such a public good, then why not go completely communist? What is their argument about drawing the line? Same with Republicans–where and how do they draw lines regarding civil liberties? If security is the sole public good and government may be explicitly entrusted with unlimited powers to spy on us (and thus access to unlimited amounts of information), then why have limits at all? Take it a step further, and why have civil liberties at all? We must be aware and knowledgeable to arguments about our own line-drawing, and I look forward to the discussion this month.