A thought experiment:
Two communities meet for the very first time. The Gorblaxians have a strict social edict - not necessarily enforced by a state as such, but at the very least adhered to for fear of complete social rejection -that every member of the community must give one eighth of their income to help the poor. The Jemishes have an identical edict, save for the fact that in their case it is only one sixtieth they must give.
The Gorblaxians have a mathematical system in which the default is to use base eight. The Jemishes have a mathematical system in which the default is to use base sixty.
As a member of the Gorblaxian society, would/should you regard the Jemish community as uncharitable and/or morally inferior?
A Persian Cafe, Edward Lord Weeks
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
The Primary Challenge of Political Philosophy...
...should be less to explain why the governments of liberal democracies, primarily in Europe and North America, are legitimate and that why we must obey them, but rather to explain precisely why less enlightened states are not legitimate, why there is no duty to obey them.
It seems to me to be beneficial to view political obligation as a number of sets of actions. There exists a set of acts which are morally permissible for an individual within the state of nature, and a set of acts which are morally permissible for the same individual when under a state. This essay shall discuss the relationship between these two sets, which we shall label the Natural set (actions morally permissible within the state of nature) and the Statist set (actions morally permissible when under a state).
The basic claim of the philosophical anarchist is that there are no acts in the Natural set which are not also in the Statist set, i.e. that there are no political obligations. The basic claim of the political anarchist is that there are no acts in the Statist set which are not also in the Natural set, i.e. that being a representative of the state confers no special moral status.
One of the key claims made by defenders of the state is that the legitimacy of its laws is content-independent: that is, that we have the duty to obey the laws of a legitimate state regardless of what those laws are. I take it as a priori that it is impermissible to murder or imprison someone purely on the grounds of their religion. It is a simple fact that many states, from various medieval kingdoms to Nazi Germany and the USSR to a number of modern states in Africa and the Middle East, have not respected this and have instead murdered many people specifically because they were of a different religion to that of the state's leaders. From these premises, it is obvious that either (a) the obligation to obey a state's laws is not content-independent, or (b) the citizens of many states, including a number which exist today, have no obligation towards their states. Otherwise the persecuted minorities would be required to hand themselves in to be killed, and if they did not then other citizens would be obliged to point them out to be rounded up and slaughtered.
If conclusion (a) is accepted, then the question becomes: even if a state is legitimate, what distinguishes its legitimate commands, which I must obey, from those which I have no duty to obey? This is likely to depend upon the specific theory used to defend the state. The question from the beginning of this essay may be formulated as "Why is it that I must pay a given proportion of my income to the state of the UK, while Jews under Hitler in 1944 were under no obligation to reveal themselves?" (1) If one appeals to Christopher Heath Wellman's argument from a "Samaritan Duty of Rescue", then one has a duty to obey laws only in so far as they are necessary to rescue people from the state of nature, which seems fair enough. If one appeals to a theory of Democratic Fairness, then one runs into problems - the Nazis were democratically elected, which makes it far harder to argue that they were illegitimate but that our existing governments are legitimate.
If conclusion (b) is accepted, then the question is much the same. This has slightly less of a problem, in that it need not explain why a state taking 40% of my income is legitimate while an otherwise identical state taking 100% of my income is not. However, it still needs to explain precisely why I must obey David Cameron, but no Syrian need obey Bashar al-Assad.
I would regard it as a failure of a theory of political obligation if it held that all people must obey all laws of their local state.
(1) The obvious, flippant answer is "Because the Jews would have been killed, whereas you just wouldn't be able to afford that new computer or whatever. Duh!" While not entirely impossible, this raises the issue of what exactly it takes for our suffering to be permissible for the state to inflict. Suppose that a 40% income tax is legitimate, but a 100% income tax will cause me to starve and die and is therefore impermissible. Given that a rate of 90% would leave me wallowing in homelessness and poverty but would not kill me, is this permissible? A rate of 70% would allow me to survive and to just about pay rent, but would leave me no security in case I fell ill; would this be permissible? Moreover, this answer fails to provide a positive case as to why the state has a right to even 1%, let alone 40%, of my earnings. It gives no substantive answer as to why the state could legitimately take 40% of my income, but I could not legitimate take 40% of your income.
It seems to me to be beneficial to view political obligation as a number of sets of actions. There exists a set of acts which are morally permissible for an individual within the state of nature, and a set of acts which are morally permissible for the same individual when under a state. This essay shall discuss the relationship between these two sets, which we shall label the Natural set (actions morally permissible within the state of nature) and the Statist set (actions morally permissible when under a state).
The basic claim of the philosophical anarchist is that there are no acts in the Natural set which are not also in the Statist set, i.e. that there are no political obligations. The basic claim of the political anarchist is that there are no acts in the Statist set which are not also in the Natural set, i.e. that being a representative of the state confers no special moral status.
One of the key claims made by defenders of the state is that the legitimacy of its laws is content-independent: that is, that we have the duty to obey the laws of a legitimate state regardless of what those laws are. I take it as a priori that it is impermissible to murder or imprison someone purely on the grounds of their religion. It is a simple fact that many states, from various medieval kingdoms to Nazi Germany and the USSR to a number of modern states in Africa and the Middle East, have not respected this and have instead murdered many people specifically because they were of a different religion to that of the state's leaders. From these premises, it is obvious that either (a) the obligation to obey a state's laws is not content-independent, or (b) the citizens of many states, including a number which exist today, have no obligation towards their states. Otherwise the persecuted minorities would be required to hand themselves in to be killed, and if they did not then other citizens would be obliged to point them out to be rounded up and slaughtered.
If conclusion (a) is accepted, then the question becomes: even if a state is legitimate, what distinguishes its legitimate commands, which I must obey, from those which I have no duty to obey? This is likely to depend upon the specific theory used to defend the state. The question from the beginning of this essay may be formulated as "Why is it that I must pay a given proportion of my income to the state of the UK, while Jews under Hitler in 1944 were under no obligation to reveal themselves?" (1) If one appeals to Christopher Heath Wellman's argument from a "Samaritan Duty of Rescue", then one has a duty to obey laws only in so far as they are necessary to rescue people from the state of nature, which seems fair enough. If one appeals to a theory of Democratic Fairness, then one runs into problems - the Nazis were democratically elected, which makes it far harder to argue that they were illegitimate but that our existing governments are legitimate.
If conclusion (b) is accepted, then the question is much the same. This has slightly less of a problem, in that it need not explain why a state taking 40% of my income is legitimate while an otherwise identical state taking 100% of my income is not. However, it still needs to explain precisely why I must obey David Cameron, but no Syrian need obey Bashar al-Assad.
I would regard it as a failure of a theory of political obligation if it held that all people must obey all laws of their local state.
(1) The obvious, flippant answer is "Because the Jews would have been killed, whereas you just wouldn't be able to afford that new computer or whatever. Duh!" While not entirely impossible, this raises the issue of what exactly it takes for our suffering to be permissible for the state to inflict. Suppose that a 40% income tax is legitimate, but a 100% income tax will cause me to starve and die and is therefore impermissible. Given that a rate of 90% would leave me wallowing in homelessness and poverty but would not kill me, is this permissible? A rate of 70% would allow me to survive and to just about pay rent, but would leave me no security in case I fell ill; would this be permissible? Moreover, this answer fails to provide a positive case as to why the state has a right to even 1%, let alone 40%, of my earnings. It gives no substantive answer as to why the state could legitimately take 40% of my income, but I could not legitimate take 40% of your income.
Guide to arguments for the state
This is intended as a brief presentation of various arguments for a duty to obey the state. I do not agree with any of them, and may rebut them at a later date, but this is intended as reference rather than discussion.
Consent Theory
We have consented to obey the state. This consent may be explicit, tacit (i.e. by failing to object appropriately we give our consent) implied (our actions imply that we consent, even if we do not explicitly say we do) or even hypothetical (under certain idealised conditions, we would explicitly consent). Therefore we must obey the state.
Benefit Theory
The state provides us with benefits (e.g. healthcare, education, security). Therefore we should express gratitude. The correct way to do this is by obeying its laws. Therefore we should obey the state.
Fair-play Theory
The state represents a co-operative of people who have banded together for mutual benefit. We benefit from this (e.g. by being protected from crime). Since we receive benefits from this, it would be unfair to free-ride upon the efforts of others; therefore we should obey the state.
Democratic Fairness
We have a duty to treat others as equals. By failing to obey a democratic state, we place our own judgement above that of our peers and thus fail to treat them as equals. Therefore we must obey the state.
Consequentialist Statism
The social consequences of obeying the state are on the whole preferable to those of disobeying the state. Therefore we must obey the state.
Samaritan Duty of Rescue
If we can rescue someone from peril at a reasonably low cost to ourselves, we have a duty to do so. The state is the only way of rescuing others from the peril that is the state of nature. Therefore, we must establish and obey a state.
Populism
Most people believe that we have a duty to obey the state. There is a positive correlation between people believing things and those things being true. Therefore, it is likely that we have a duty to obey the state.
Consent Theory
We have consented to obey the state. This consent may be explicit, tacit (i.e. by failing to object appropriately we give our consent) implied (our actions imply that we consent, even if we do not explicitly say we do) or even hypothetical (under certain idealised conditions, we would explicitly consent). Therefore we must obey the state.
Benefit Theory
The state provides us with benefits (e.g. healthcare, education, security). Therefore we should express gratitude. The correct way to do this is by obeying its laws. Therefore we should obey the state.
Fair-play Theory
The state represents a co-operative of people who have banded together for mutual benefit. We benefit from this (e.g. by being protected from crime). Since we receive benefits from this, it would be unfair to free-ride upon the efforts of others; therefore we should obey the state.
Democratic Fairness
We have a duty to treat others as equals. By failing to obey a democratic state, we place our own judgement above that of our peers and thus fail to treat them as equals. Therefore we must obey the state.
Consequentialist Statism
The social consequences of obeying the state are on the whole preferable to those of disobeying the state. Therefore we must obey the state.
Samaritan Duty of Rescue
If we can rescue someone from peril at a reasonably low cost to ourselves, we have a duty to do so. The state is the only way of rescuing others from the peril that is the state of nature. Therefore, we must establish and obey a state.
Populism
Most people believe that we have a duty to obey the state. There is a positive correlation between people believing things and those things being true. Therefore, it is likely that we have a duty to obey the state.
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Global Warming: the ethics of government action
AN: I've recently been reading Michael Huemer's The Problem of Political Authority. This may be viewed as an attempt at channelling Huemer.
Global warming is frequently cited as a global problem requiring some type of global government as a solution. I attack the moral reasoning behind this kind of claim by providing a number of conditions, all of which must hold for government action to reduce global warming to be justified. I then demonstrate that, even with generous assumptions, a number of these conditions remain at best uncertain and most likely unmet.
Conditions
1: Global warming is or appears to be likely to happen in the future.
2: The global warming set to happen will have negative consequences significantly outweighing any positive consequnces.
3: The proposed action will actually reduce global warming.
4: The costs of the proposed action are less than the net cost of the global warming they would prevent.
5: There are no feasible alternative solutions which are preferable in moral and economic terms.
6: We should not expect to develop any new and economically/morally preferable solutions within the next few years.
For the sake of argument, we shall take condition #1 to be true. Personally I am somewhat sceptical of this, but it is controversial and I can demonstrate that government action is unjustified even if I accept it as a premise.
Condition #2 is highly debatable. Svante Arrhenius, the first person to propose that industrialisation would lead to higher CO2 emissions, which would in turn cause global warming, saw it as a good thing. There are vast amounts of land which are useless for farming, which would (if the world warmed up) become more useful. Existing farming areas would benefit from longer growing seasons. There would be fewer deaths from diseases which prosper in cold times. Moreover, there are problems which have nothing whatsoever to do with the science of it; for example, discount rates. The IPCC has estimated net global losses at 1-5% of global GDP with 4 degrees Celsius of global warming. Given that this is over a period of 50-100 years, during which time we might reasonably expect global GDP to increase between fourfold and tenfold (compound growth at a global mean of 3.5% implies a doubling of GDP roughly every twenty years), is the loss of 5% growth really worrying enough to justify coercive action?
Condition #3 obviously depends upon the specific legislation. When I first planned this post, I assumed that it would basically be true for all proposed measures, and not having enough relevant knowledge myself I will accept it for the sake of argument. However, I will point readers to this, which suggests that programs to reduce CO2 emissions are unlikely to greatly affect global warming much - the claim is that, even if all industrialised nations reduced their emissions by 100%, this would avert at most 0.352 degrees C of global warming by 2100 AD.
One of the last acts of the previous government of the UK was to pass a billrequiring that the UK cut its CO2 emissions to 10% of their level in 1990 (edit, 20/03/14: re-reading this, I decided to have a look at the bill and it seems I was confusing the Energy Act 2010 with the Climate Change Act 2008, which demands an 80% - not 90%, but in the same region - cut in various greenhouse gases, CO2 among them. I suppose the lesson is, "Always check your sources."). It seems highly implausible that this would not entail a significant reduction in the GDP of the UK. Given that the costs are unlikely to exceed 5% of GDP (see above) it seems at best highly uncertain that the benefits of such a policy will outweigh the costs. Given that coercion is being used to enforce these policies, it does not seem unreasonable to demand a high level of confidence that the benefits exceed the costs, and it does not seem that we have this. Of course, this is only one piece of legislation, but it is hardly unrepresentative of what is being advocated.
There are a number of reasons to believe that condition #5 is likely to be false. There may well be an Environmental Kuznets Curve; fracking allows us to meet energy needs without contributing to global warming; geoengineering could provide a (relatively) cheap and easy solution...
Finally, condition #6. Perhaps this merits a brief defence. Global warming is a long-run problem - most of its effects are unlikely to hit for decades. Given that, if there is a substantial chance that, within a reasonably short time period - say, the next ten to fifteen years - we will develop a far more efficient way of reducing global warming, it makes sense to leave off for now and enjoy the blessings of greater industrialisation, and then focus our efforts on using those technologies when they become available.
First, note that solar panels are becoming ever cheaper, and within a few years will be profitable even without subsidies (HT Noahpinion). Second, far be it from me to attempt predicting the future, but given how much is currently being spent upon measures to combat climate change one would expect some kind of innovation to be coming out of it. That is, assuming this is a genuine attempt to avert a genuine problem and not simply a massive scheme of political patronage.
To conclude, even if global warming is happening, due to the massive timescale and corresponding uncertainty, it is sensible to conclude that coercive action to prevent or reduce it is not justified.
Global warming is frequently cited as a global problem requiring some type of global government as a solution. I attack the moral reasoning behind this kind of claim by providing a number of conditions, all of which must hold for government action to reduce global warming to be justified. I then demonstrate that, even with generous assumptions, a number of these conditions remain at best uncertain and most likely unmet.
Conditions
1: Global warming is or appears to be likely to happen in the future.
2: The global warming set to happen will have negative consequences significantly outweighing any positive consequnces.
3: The proposed action will actually reduce global warming.
4: The costs of the proposed action are less than the net cost of the global warming they would prevent.
5: There are no feasible alternative solutions which are preferable in moral and economic terms.
6: We should not expect to develop any new and economically/morally preferable solutions within the next few years.
For the sake of argument, we shall take condition #1 to be true. Personally I am somewhat sceptical of this, but it is controversial and I can demonstrate that government action is unjustified even if I accept it as a premise.
Condition #2 is highly debatable. Svante Arrhenius, the first person to propose that industrialisation would lead to higher CO2 emissions, which would in turn cause global warming, saw it as a good thing. There are vast amounts of land which are useless for farming, which would (if the world warmed up) become more useful. Existing farming areas would benefit from longer growing seasons. There would be fewer deaths from diseases which prosper in cold times. Moreover, there are problems which have nothing whatsoever to do with the science of it; for example, discount rates. The IPCC has estimated net global losses at 1-5% of global GDP with 4 degrees Celsius of global warming. Given that this is over a period of 50-100 years, during which time we might reasonably expect global GDP to increase between fourfold and tenfold (compound growth at a global mean of 3.5% implies a doubling of GDP roughly every twenty years), is the loss of 5% growth really worrying enough to justify coercive action?
Condition #3 obviously depends upon the specific legislation. When I first planned this post, I assumed that it would basically be true for all proposed measures, and not having enough relevant knowledge myself I will accept it for the sake of argument. However, I will point readers to this, which suggests that programs to reduce CO2 emissions are unlikely to greatly affect global warming much - the claim is that, even if all industrialised nations reduced their emissions by 100%, this would avert at most 0.352 degrees C of global warming by 2100 AD.
One of the last acts of the previous government of the UK was to pass a bill
There are a number of reasons to believe that condition #5 is likely to be false. There may well be an Environmental Kuznets Curve; fracking allows us to meet energy needs without contributing to global warming; geoengineering could provide a (relatively) cheap and easy solution...
Finally, condition #6. Perhaps this merits a brief defence. Global warming is a long-run problem - most of its effects are unlikely to hit for decades. Given that, if there is a substantial chance that, within a reasonably short time period - say, the next ten to fifteen years - we will develop a far more efficient way of reducing global warming, it makes sense to leave off for now and enjoy the blessings of greater industrialisation, and then focus our efforts on using those technologies when they become available.
First, note that solar panels are becoming ever cheaper, and within a few years will be profitable even without subsidies (HT Noahpinion). Second, far be it from me to attempt predicting the future, but given how much is currently being spent upon measures to combat climate change one would expect some kind of innovation to be coming out of it. That is, assuming this is a genuine attempt to avert a genuine problem and not simply a massive scheme of political patronage.
To conclude, even if global warming is happening, due to the massive timescale and corresponding uncertainty, it is sensible to conclude that coercive action to prevent or reduce it is not justified.
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
The National Gallery and Die Walkuere
The last 48 hours have been... interesting. The story starts on Saturday evening,when I observed that, with the Proms concerts this week being a full performance of Wagner's Ring cycle and of Tristan und Isolde, conducted by Daniel Barenboim, it should be assumed that I would be occupied during the evenings. To which my mother replied, "Why don't you go to see one of them?"
Going to see the Proms is somewhat impractical for anyone who does not live in London. The primary reasons for this are the time and monetary costs of getting into London, as you would expect for one of the world's largest, richest cities, and the time involved in queuing for tickets if you are Day-Promming (I intend to discuss this in a future post). However, I currently have more time than I know what to do with, my mother had some coupons for free rail travel on a given date due to being inconvenienced by some set of major delays, and so this was an excellent opportunity.
I planned to see Die Walkuere: there wasn't really enough time to plan a day trip to see Das Rheingold, while the other three operas, being on a Friday (Siegfried), a Saturday (Tristan) and Sunday (Goetterdammerung) could be expected to be a lot busier. Not that Das Rheingold and Die Walkuere weren't busy, just that they were less busy so I had a better chance of getting in.
Given that I was travelling all the way to London and back in one day, it seemed a pity just to see an opera. Plus, unfamiliar with what the queues are like, I overestimated the time I would have available. My plan was to visit the National Gallery in the morning, head over to the Royal Albert Hall for 1:30-2pm (tickets were supposed to first go on sale at 2:30) and use any spare time in between buying a ticket and the concert beginning at 5pm to visit the Tate Modern. I have been trying to cultivate an interest in arts other than music and literature, so this felt like a good use of my time.
The journey down went smoothly. I finished reading the book of Jeramiah, continued my reading of Njal's Saga, and did a bit of thinking. A short hop down the Northern line to Charing Cross, and I was at Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. The Gallery... I enjoyed it, but I spent a lot of time looking at paintings that I'm finding don't really interest me. I suppose that, ultimately, any art form faces the issue that a) if there are multiple styles, then most people will only be interested in some of those, and b) even if something is produced by a professional, that is no guarantee of genuine artistic merit. Just as for every Missa Papae Marcelli there are ten masses to send even the priest to sleep, for every Sistine Chapel ceiling there are ten uninspired depictions of biblical characters. The more modern areas were interesting - the Impressionists and post-Impressionists produced a great many enjoyable paintings. I tried to bear in mind Tyler Cowen's advice to his children: think "Which painting do I most want to steal and take home?" as a way of focusing your attention on the paintings you like and what you like about them.
Following this, I wandered around for a bit, had a brief look through the Covent Garden market and was bitterly disappointed - my dad recently had me watching some videos about transport and the like back in the 60s, and I enjoyed the aesthetic of large rooms filled with carts and pallets of fruit, vegetables, animal carcasses, fish, and many other things besides. Instead, the modern Covent Garden market seems little more than a collection of tourist traps. I suppose I'm not greatly surprised, but it was a disappointment nonetheless.
Victoria line from Leicester Square to Knightsbridge - the Royal Albert Hall is stupidly far from an Underground Station considering the density with which they pepper Oxford Road and the like - and a walk along the edge of Hyde Park, inspecting the (relatively) new One Hyde Park apartments from the outside along the way (they looked nice, although it must be pretty noisy living there) and I was at the Royal Albert Hall. A bit of asking around, and I found the back of the queue. Down the stairs, round the corner and about 30 metres along. Three and a half hours before the concert was set to begin.
Ah, well. I managed a fair bit more reading in the queue - I finished Eliezar Yudkowsky's Three Worlds Collide (highly recommended, by the way), and read a bit further through David D Friedman's The Machinery of Freedom (likely also recommendation-worthy, but I'm not far enough through reading it to assert that). Eventually, the queue started rolling forward, although by the time I was in all of the space near the front (this being standing-room, and therefore there being no precisely-defined property rights as there are with seats) had been taken, so I was left with a less good view than I would have liked, perhaps a less good view than I would have had from the Gallery. Still, the sound was incredible, very much worth going to see it.
When listening to opera, particularly if you are not fluent in the language in which it is sung, there are really two ways to enjoy it. The first is with a copy of the libretto and a translation to your native tongue - I had planned to download this to my Kindle, but forgot. The other is to forget about the words and plot and just lose yourself in the music. I attempted the first, reading over people's shoulders where possible (there had been copies of the libretto on sale, but they quickly ran out leaving a fair few people disappointed and in some cases rather annoyed) but by the third act I had given up on this. I won't attempt to describe the opera here; suffice to say that I greatly enjoyed it, the applause afterwards went on for upwards of ten minutes, and assuming it's still up there by the time you read it you should really go here to listen (the libretto, with translation, is here).
After we had finally finished applauding, I walked to Knightsbridge station, caught the necessary trains along the Underground to get back to Euston, and discovered that the last London Midland train to Birmingham had already left. I could have sworn that there was supposed to be one leaving at 11:30 pm (this was at about ten to eleven) but for some reason that was being operated by Virgin, which rendered my ticket invalid. In an attempt to get as far back as possible, I caught the London Midland train terminating at Northampton. Thus followed four long, cold and boring hours. I had my Kindle and first read through Lamentations, before starting on Ezekiel, but found myself getting tired and, since I didn't want to fall asleep on a strange platform, unguarded, with my Kindle and mobile potentially vulnerable, stopped reading. (I drifted off a couple of times anyway, but fortunately was fine). Finally, I caught the 5:15 to Birmingham New Street, a train from there to my local station, and collapsed.
All in all? I greatly enjoyed the trip, but have decided a) never to day prom again, b) to take a coat with me if there's any risk of being stranded overnight, regardless of the weather, and c) to give up on trying to find interest in paintings from before about 1700.
Going to see the Proms is somewhat impractical for anyone who does not live in London. The primary reasons for this are the time and monetary costs of getting into London, as you would expect for one of the world's largest, richest cities, and the time involved in queuing for tickets if you are Day-Promming (I intend to discuss this in a future post). However, I currently have more time than I know what to do with, my mother had some coupons for free rail travel on a given date due to being inconvenienced by some set of major delays, and so this was an excellent opportunity.
I planned to see Die Walkuere: there wasn't really enough time to plan a day trip to see Das Rheingold, while the other three operas, being on a Friday (Siegfried), a Saturday (Tristan) and Sunday (Goetterdammerung) could be expected to be a lot busier. Not that Das Rheingold and Die Walkuere weren't busy, just that they were less busy so I had a better chance of getting in.
Given that I was travelling all the way to London and back in one day, it seemed a pity just to see an opera. Plus, unfamiliar with what the queues are like, I overestimated the time I would have available. My plan was to visit the National Gallery in the morning, head over to the Royal Albert Hall for 1:30-2pm (tickets were supposed to first go on sale at 2:30) and use any spare time in between buying a ticket and the concert beginning at 5pm to visit the Tate Modern. I have been trying to cultivate an interest in arts other than music and literature, so this felt like a good use of my time.
The journey down went smoothly. I finished reading the book of Jeramiah, continued my reading of Njal's Saga, and did a bit of thinking. A short hop down the Northern line to Charing Cross, and I was at Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. The Gallery... I enjoyed it, but I spent a lot of time looking at paintings that I'm finding don't really interest me. I suppose that, ultimately, any art form faces the issue that a) if there are multiple styles, then most people will only be interested in some of those, and b) even if something is produced by a professional, that is no guarantee of genuine artistic merit. Just as for every Missa Papae Marcelli there are ten masses to send even the priest to sleep, for every Sistine Chapel ceiling there are ten uninspired depictions of biblical characters. The more modern areas were interesting - the Impressionists and post-Impressionists produced a great many enjoyable paintings. I tried to bear in mind Tyler Cowen's advice to his children: think "Which painting do I most want to steal and take home?" as a way of focusing your attention on the paintings you like and what you like about them.
Following this, I wandered around for a bit, had a brief look through the Covent Garden market and was bitterly disappointed - my dad recently had me watching some videos about transport and the like back in the 60s, and I enjoyed the aesthetic of large rooms filled with carts and pallets of fruit, vegetables, animal carcasses, fish, and many other things besides. Instead, the modern Covent Garden market seems little more than a collection of tourist traps. I suppose I'm not greatly surprised, but it was a disappointment nonetheless.
Victoria line from Leicester Square to Knightsbridge - the Royal Albert Hall is stupidly far from an Underground Station considering the density with which they pepper Oxford Road and the like - and a walk along the edge of Hyde Park, inspecting the (relatively) new One Hyde Park apartments from the outside along the way (they looked nice, although it must be pretty noisy living there) and I was at the Royal Albert Hall. A bit of asking around, and I found the back of the queue. Down the stairs, round the corner and about 30 metres along. Three and a half hours before the concert was set to begin.
Ah, well. I managed a fair bit more reading in the queue - I finished Eliezar Yudkowsky's Three Worlds Collide (highly recommended, by the way), and read a bit further through David D Friedman's The Machinery of Freedom (likely also recommendation-worthy, but I'm not far enough through reading it to assert that). Eventually, the queue started rolling forward, although by the time I was in all of the space near the front (this being standing-room, and therefore there being no precisely-defined property rights as there are with seats) had been taken, so I was left with a less good view than I would have liked, perhaps a less good view than I would have had from the Gallery. Still, the sound was incredible, very much worth going to see it.
When listening to opera, particularly if you are not fluent in the language in which it is sung, there are really two ways to enjoy it. The first is with a copy of the libretto and a translation to your native tongue - I had planned to download this to my Kindle, but forgot. The other is to forget about the words and plot and just lose yourself in the music. I attempted the first, reading over people's shoulders where possible (there had been copies of the libretto on sale, but they quickly ran out leaving a fair few people disappointed and in some cases rather annoyed) but by the third act I had given up on this. I won't attempt to describe the opera here; suffice to say that I greatly enjoyed it, the applause afterwards went on for upwards of ten minutes, and assuming it's still up there by the time you read it you should really go here to listen (the libretto, with translation, is here).
After we had finally finished applauding, I walked to Knightsbridge station, caught the necessary trains along the Underground to get back to Euston, and discovered that the last London Midland train to Birmingham had already left. I could have sworn that there was supposed to be one leaving at 11:30 pm (this was at about ten to eleven) but for some reason that was being operated by Virgin, which rendered my ticket invalid. In an attempt to get as far back as possible, I caught the London Midland train terminating at Northampton. Thus followed four long, cold and boring hours. I had my Kindle and first read through Lamentations, before starting on Ezekiel, but found myself getting tired and, since I didn't want to fall asleep on a strange platform, unguarded, with my Kindle and mobile potentially vulnerable, stopped reading. (I drifted off a couple of times anyway, but fortunately was fine). Finally, I caught the 5:15 to Birmingham New Street, a train from there to my local station, and collapsed.
All in all? I greatly enjoyed the trip, but have decided a) never to day prom again, b) to take a coat with me if there's any risk of being stranded overnight, regardless of the weather, and c) to give up on trying to find interest in paintings from before about 1700.
Thursday, 18 July 2013
Ethics without free will?
Suppose an atheist advanced the following line of thought:
"The Universe must have a cause for its existence. The only thing capable of causing the Universe to exist is a deity of some kind. However, it is impossible to disprove the proposition that a deity of some kind exists. Hence, it is not a scientific theory and so I need not worry about it."
We would clearly see this as a silly way of thinking. (I do not intend this reasoning as a defence of the causal argument for God's existence, but rather as an illustration). And yet my own "thought" regarding determinism has been rather similar for a while. Something like:
"Assuming we accept that events cause other events, it seems obvious that pretty much any event can be traced backwards through time as the natural consequence of the previous state of the world. That is to say, given the exact positions and velocities of all particles in the universe at one point in time, you could in principle predict the exact future of the universe. Thus, everything that happens, has happened, and is yet to happen, was set in stone from the very beginning of the universe. However, it is impossible to disprove this, since one can always say of any experimental data 'Oh, that's how it must have been set to happen given the prior state of the universe,' regardless of the results. Thus determinism is not a scientific theory, which I may therefore avoid worrying about."
To be fair to myself, I don't think I was ever particularly happy with this. It entails a blatant ignorance of the difference between epistemological methods and metaphysical truth. I would happily admit that this "thinking" was motivated by a desire to believe in free will and therefore to preserve a notion of ethics, combined with an honest rejection of compatabilist views of determinism and free will. Indeed, it would be dishonest to pretend that I will believe pretty much anything if it allows me to preserve ethics. However, I'm moving towards the idea that perhaps ethics is possible without free will. I see two ways in which this might be true. There may well be more, which I have missed; indeed, neither truly satisfies me.
1: Moral identity
When put in identical situations, different people will make different choices. This is because they are different people. When we pass moral judgement, we judge not the action but the person doing the action; the action is simply evidence towards the moral nature of the agent.
2: "Non-judgemental Consequentialism"
The morality of an action may be judged entirely by its consequences. Since the sets of consequences may be ordered in terms of their preferability, so may the actions themselves. Note, however, that since the agent's actions were pre-determined, they cannot actually be judged for their actions; this is therefore a somewhat narrower theory than standard consequentialism.
What implications might these theories have? Moral identity as a system is heavily at odds with my Christian belief - after all, one of the most fundamental tenets of Christianity is that we are not and cannot be saved by our own works or goodness, but are entirely reliant upon Christ and his death for us. The phrase "love the sinner, hate the sin" comes to mind as a principle in pretty much exact opposition to this theory. However, this may salvage a way of constructing ethics for those of a different background. One potential problem for the theory would be how to judge people doing wrong who genuinely believe themselves to be doing right. Let us assume that, in carrying out the Holocaust, Hitler genuinely believed himself to be doing what was morally good. Under a standard view of morality, we could say, "Yes, he believed himself to be doing right, but he was disastrously mistaken, and was in fact doing wrong." Under this "Moral Identity" theory, it becomes a lot harder to reconcile actions which seem obviously wrong with someone who genuinely believes themselves to be doing good.
What then of "non-judgemental consequentialism"? Well, this faces all the usual problems of consequentialist and utilitarian views of morality. But also, the idea of a world where actions are objectively good and bad, yet you cannot be praised for doing good nor criticised for doing bad seems completely alien. It would be like an action film in which the hero saved the entire world, everyone knew that he had done this (at great personal cost, no less!) and yet when he returned home, he did not receive the slightest bit of congratulations or thanks. This is not to say that it is wrong, merely that it would only make sense from a distinctly non-human perspective. Coming from a Christian background, the fact that the logic behind it is deeply counter-intuitive and requires a non-human set of intuitions seems like it should be evidence in its favour. The lack of moral judgement doesn't necessarily contradict Christian theology - after all, it is not our own morality which gets us into heaven. The key problem from a Christian perspective seems to be that the removal of any notion of moral judgement also seems to make thankfulness irrelevant, yet God is thanked many times, not only by fallible humans but by heavenly creatures and, of course, by Jesus himself.
So what then are my options?
1) Find a good reason to reject determinism, which leaves open the possibility of objective ethical judgement
2) Give up on objective ethical judgement
3) Adopt an extreme version of utilitarianism which precludes judgement of people
4) Find a new way in which determinism could be consistent with objective ethical judgement
The search for my chosen moral system continues...
"The Universe must have a cause for its existence. The only thing capable of causing the Universe to exist is a deity of some kind. However, it is impossible to disprove the proposition that a deity of some kind exists. Hence, it is not a scientific theory and so I need not worry about it."
We would clearly see this as a silly way of thinking. (I do not intend this reasoning as a defence of the causal argument for God's existence, but rather as an illustration). And yet my own "thought" regarding determinism has been rather similar for a while. Something like:
"Assuming we accept that events cause other events, it seems obvious that pretty much any event can be traced backwards through time as the natural consequence of the previous state of the world. That is to say, given the exact positions and velocities of all particles in the universe at one point in time, you could in principle predict the exact future of the universe. Thus, everything that happens, has happened, and is yet to happen, was set in stone from the very beginning of the universe. However, it is impossible to disprove this, since one can always say of any experimental data 'Oh, that's how it must have been set to happen given the prior state of the universe,' regardless of the results. Thus determinism is not a scientific theory, which I may therefore avoid worrying about."
To be fair to myself, I don't think I was ever particularly happy with this. It entails a blatant ignorance of the difference between epistemological methods and metaphysical truth. I would happily admit that this "thinking" was motivated by a desire to believe in free will and therefore to preserve a notion of ethics, combined with an honest rejection of compatabilist views of determinism and free will. Indeed, it would be dishonest to pretend that I will believe pretty much anything if it allows me to preserve ethics. However, I'm moving towards the idea that perhaps ethics is possible without free will. I see two ways in which this might be true. There may well be more, which I have missed; indeed, neither truly satisfies me.
1: Moral identity
When put in identical situations, different people will make different choices. This is because they are different people. When we pass moral judgement, we judge not the action but the person doing the action; the action is simply evidence towards the moral nature of the agent.
2: "Non-judgemental Consequentialism"
The morality of an action may be judged entirely by its consequences. Since the sets of consequences may be ordered in terms of their preferability, so may the actions themselves. Note, however, that since the agent's actions were pre-determined, they cannot actually be judged for their actions; this is therefore a somewhat narrower theory than standard consequentialism.
What implications might these theories have? Moral identity as a system is heavily at odds with my Christian belief - after all, one of the most fundamental tenets of Christianity is that we are not and cannot be saved by our own works or goodness, but are entirely reliant upon Christ and his death for us. The phrase "love the sinner, hate the sin" comes to mind as a principle in pretty much exact opposition to this theory. However, this may salvage a way of constructing ethics for those of a different background. One potential problem for the theory would be how to judge people doing wrong who genuinely believe themselves to be doing right. Let us assume that, in carrying out the Holocaust, Hitler genuinely believed himself to be doing what was morally good. Under a standard view of morality, we could say, "Yes, he believed himself to be doing right, but he was disastrously mistaken, and was in fact doing wrong." Under this "Moral Identity" theory, it becomes a lot harder to reconcile actions which seem obviously wrong with someone who genuinely believes themselves to be doing good.
What then of "non-judgemental consequentialism"? Well, this faces all the usual problems of consequentialist and utilitarian views of morality. But also, the idea of a world where actions are objectively good and bad, yet you cannot be praised for doing good nor criticised for doing bad seems completely alien. It would be like an action film in which the hero saved the entire world, everyone knew that he had done this (at great personal cost, no less!) and yet when he returned home, he did not receive the slightest bit of congratulations or thanks. This is not to say that it is wrong, merely that it would only make sense from a distinctly non-human perspective. Coming from a Christian background, the fact that the logic behind it is deeply counter-intuitive and requires a non-human set of intuitions seems like it should be evidence in its favour. The lack of moral judgement doesn't necessarily contradict Christian theology - after all, it is not our own morality which gets us into heaven. The key problem from a Christian perspective seems to be that the removal of any notion of moral judgement also seems to make thankfulness irrelevant, yet God is thanked many times, not only by fallible humans but by heavenly creatures and, of course, by Jesus himself.
So what then are my options?
1) Find a good reason to reject determinism, which leaves open the possibility of objective ethical judgement
2) Give up on objective ethical judgement
3) Adopt an extreme version of utilitarianism which precludes judgement of people
4) Find a new way in which determinism could be consistent with objective ethical judgement
The search for my chosen moral system continues...
The Endowment Effect, PAYE and Indirect Taxation
A brief introduction to the UK tax system for foreign readers: income tax is paid upon all income above £9500 per annum, at a rate between 20% and 45%; National Insurance is essentially another income tax, levied at a rate of 2% on the employee and up to (IIRC) 12.8% on the employer, and if you're paying it at that rate then there's no NI-free allowance; Corporation tax is 22% for small companies and 28% for large ones; VAT is essentially a sales tax of 20%, though with exemptions for certain basic goods. There are heavy duties on fuel, alcohol, cigarettes etc. Inheritance tax is 40% beyond a certain threshold. Council Tax is charged upon an outdated estimate of the value of your house. Businesses have to pay Rates based upon the value of the land they occupy.
If tax is inevitably going to be paid, then perhaps these are not bad things. It's certainly more efficient for a boss to send one cheque for all his employee's taxes than for them each do so individually. (It also reduces the ability of individuals to evade taxation, though I'm not exactly thrilled by that). But this is going to have a sizable effect upon public perception of taxation. Imagine that instead of receiving pay of £22,000 a year and paying current prices, you received £30,000 a year, prices were about 17% cheaper, and every year you had to send the government a cheque for £15,000. I can't help but think you'd be considerably more reluctant to do so.
To what extent might this be a factor leading to larger government? Well, not necessarily much of one. My understanding of the evidence is that reducing taxation does not cause governments to cut spending by much, if at all. But it almost certainly has some effect, and it can serve an example of how subtle the State's influence can feel.
For a view of this issue from a different perspective, see http://stumblingandmumbling.typepad.com/stumbling_and_mumbling/2013/05/taxes-norms-belief-equilibria.html
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