"t was a commonplace of the Soviet era that only people who were slightly abnormal, and utterly indifferent to their own comfort or survival, could find the courage to protest effectively against a totalitarian regime at the height of its powers. And Tyndale fits that description rather well."
So my blog is getting some comments that look automatically generated. They are mostly the same text, by users without anything personal in their profiles. I'm surprised that they aren't trying to sell me something or scam me into wiring money to Nigeria. Just very generic, vapid blather. I can't figure it out.
Incidentally, this tells you how widely read my blog is. All the comments are either my own or spam. Just me and the bots here. Surveying the desolation, I'm wondering if Vox has a tumbleweed theme.
OK, after reading the book through and through, and after some thinking, I find it less compelling. Though its basic idea (that people respond to incentives in a rational manner) is intriguing, the book makes a mediocre job of justifying it. The author first tells us to beware of contrived lab experiments (in Chapter 1, commenting on the difference in Tversky's and Lists's conclusions), but later happily relies on such experiments to buttress his claims (most egregiously in Chapter 8, with a classroom experiment at Texas A&M, but also in Chapter 6 with play-pretend hiring decisions made by students with little real-life HR experience). This inconsistency seems unnecessary, as his arguments would be strong even without using the contrived experiments.
At other times, the book is only too content to leave a subject after testing just one possible explanation. For example, if the fraction of joint papers by co-located authors increased between the 60s and the 90s, that is enough to support the conclusion that "communications technology also seems to stimulate more local collaboration"? It couldn't be for any other reason? And same with employers rejecting (fake) resumes with black-sounding names -- is racism really the only possible conclusion? Could it be that standout names simply prompt more scrutiny, which then discovers the fakery? I'm not saying the conclusions are wrong or that the original scientific works didn't properly explore alternate explanations. But if they did, I wouldn't know it from reading this book.
Finally, the book ranges far afield in search of examples to confirm the rational-humans theory when a few obvious tests are close at hand. In Chapter 3, it accepts as a given that most people marry within their race and age group. But what is the rational explanation for this? The book doesn't examine it. It also doesn't examine the seemingly irrational strategy that humans routinely exhibit in the ultimatum game (even though chimps don't). If the theory is any good, why not test it on these obvious examples?
This points to a larger flaw in the basic idea itself: it is not really a theory. Because it relies on perceived incentives, not objectively real ones, it cannot make accurate predictions without knowing for sure how the average human perceives the incentives surrounding them. But this is quite often impossible to know with accuracy. So the predictions made on the basis of this idea will frequently prove false not because the idea itself is wrong but because our knowledge of human perceptions is flawed. This makes the idea impossible to disprove: any time it mispredicts, it can simply blame it on the complexities of human perception. By definition, an idea that cannot be disproved is not a theory (at least not a scientific one).
Attractive as it is to think that the invisible hand of reason guides the behavior of human groups (and clever as some of the experiments are), I'm still not sure I can let that thought guide my actions in life.
I'm reading "The Logic of Life" and enjoying it quite a bit. The salacious and iconoclastic topics are a thrill, of course, especially to a misfit like me with a long-standing habit of being enraged by perceived hypocrisy. But beyond that, the book discusses some quite inventive techniques for testing hypotheses, as well as hard-nosed pragmatism and an honest treatment of certain theoretical follies previously besetting economic thought. So the knowledge it imparts should at least be reliable, regardless of its ultimate practical usefulness.
Eye-catching on the outside, obscenely sophisticated on the inside, comfortable to drive, and reliable. Smaller is better, and speed doesn't matter.
It would appear that Facebook has now reached the level of ubiquity that makes it the expected form of interaction for everyone. Like email, web, and cell phones before it, it has gone from curiosity to novelty to routine. It used to be that only self-obsessed undergrads and lecherous pervs were on Facebook. Then it became an interesting phenomenon. Then it became the latest annoying fad in the footsteps of Friendster. For a while, it looked like it may follow the latter to the heap of discarded instant wonders. But then something happened, some tipping point was passed, and now it's basically a necessity. I know of mothers who are on Facebook next to their teenage children. They'll tell you how much of a drag it is to constantly receive friend requests from their children's classmates. Most of my friends post party invitations and photos exclusively on Facebook. They rely on it to check whether someone is out of town. I myself am not on, but there are apparently pictures of me. Even my funny T-shirts have been tagged on Facebook, I hear.
I'm beginning to realize that I will eventually simply have to throw in the towel and join Facebook. At this point, holding out is almost peevish. I am like those odd people who refuse to use a computer and insist on paper receipts for everything; a walking anachronism. When I meet new friends, they find it difficult to understand. It's like I'm impeding some universal ritual. And with the critical mass now reached, it will only get more noticeable.
I'm still not sure that I'll be gaining anything by creating yet another profile, calendar, inbox, and blog. I have no use for zombie bites, pokes, or hot potatoes. (Some say I'll get more dates. If so, that will be truly sad.) It doesn't matter: everyone is on Facebook, so everyone has to be on Facebook. Otherwise, you're an analog die-hard in the digital world. You may think you're sensible or original; but everyone else thinks you're awkward.
Jackson's Point is a township of suburban greenery and winding roads straight out of sedan commercials. The Briars Resort is a cute colonial mansion tucked away on a quiet road next to the lake. Although the room decor is cheap and the exercise facilities a joke, this place is worth visiting for its serenity and restorative powers. There are many quiet places to sit down and enjoy the view and the bird song. Inside, there are reading rooms aplenty, each with comfy armchairs, old maps, and book-lined shelves. There are guest activities like boating and walks, though I didn't find any of them compelling enough to participate. Prices include meals, which is nice, but some meals include a dress code, which is annoying. Be sure to learn the code before packing! The staff is polite and friendly, and will even find you alternate dinner seating if you didn't bring the requisite wardrobe. The guests on this particular weekend seemed the cheery, respectable middle-class that the avantgarde types will surely find boring. The resort has a spa with competent services best booked well in advance.
The place is about 75 minutes' drive from downtown Toronto, through spectacular scenery of lush green fields, farmhouses, and cow pastures.
How many coffee-table books does a man need? One per table? One per season? I've heard a friend say three per table. And what do I get out of them? How exactly do they change my life? When should I buy more coffee-table books?
It strikes me that these same questions apply to art in general. Perhaps I'm stumped by that great, age-old mystery: how do you value art?
One of the reasons I admire the Euston Manifesto is its opposition to anti-Americanism. In some circles, the fashion of bashing everything American has grown to tiresome proportions. I am almost inclined to agree with the neocons who suggest (according to the Economist) that "the allies are like irresponsible teenagers who bitch about their parents but enjoy living at home rent-free."
It's an important challenge of our time to strike a balance between shrill, over-the-top anti-Americanism and giving them carte blanche to sin. Both are counter-productive in their own way. Complaining about honest mistakes that any dominant power is bound to make amounts to obstructionism. It has always been easy to criticize those who strive to make a difference. On the other hand, pretending that no mistakes were made sends the worst possible message. It begets arrogance and guarantees that more and bigger mistakes will follow.
It's like a zealous police force: sure, we're better off having them, and we're better off trusting their good intentions by default, but this doesn't absolve them of responsibility for their actions. They are still subject to the law's restrictions; they are barred from infringing on our rights. And when they step over the line, they must be held responsible. It's essential that there be a watchful and enforceable control, precisely because we trust them with our liberties. Without such control, we are dancing on a slippery slope, with only a matter of time before someone comes along to abuse the privilege, claiming all the while that it's for our own protection. Most tyrannies the world over begin exactly like this. So when it comes to enjoying the benefits of a friendly superpower, it's wise to recall what makes a friendship last.
In about two seconds of warm weather that Toronto got this April, my roommates and I ran out to shop for some balcony furniture and flowers. We went with the cafe-patio theme:
Now if only the warm weather would come back again...
