Nazim, Adana

I don't remember much about the little time I spent with my great-uncle Nazim, but what I do recall was his raucous laughter. Not a bad way to be remembered, I think....

I've taken a short trip to Adana with my parents to see Iclal (pronounced Ijlal with a soft j) and related family, and to support my dad as he travels to pay his respects to a man who, in his words, was like his second father.

Thursday morning, after we arrived the previous evening, we took a stroll across the Taskopru (literally meaning stone bridge, it is famous for being 1800 years old), through a park with a statue of the revered physician and metaphysician Ibn-i Sina, and past the Sabanci mosque before returning to the hotel for breakfast.

Over breakfast I investigated Sabanci (pronounced Sabanchi for my anglo-saxon friends) and Ibn-i Sina on my interweb connected phone. Some curious stories emerged. First Sabanci. For one thing I found it interesting that Sabanci holdings, a family business on the Global FTSE 500 list, saw fit to build a mosque beside the park and Hilton which, oh by the way, they also own. One could view this a number of ways: we might be tempted to say that it is a wonderfully generous act (although as my mum pointed out, they could have decided to build a homeless shelter or hospital instead ;-)), or perhaps it's because the Sabanci HQ used to be based in Adana and so maybe there's a family connection to the city, or, looking at it more cynically, one might say that constructing a mosque is excellent PR for a company with fingers in every pie and maybe an ego trip for the owners. In any case I found the multiplicity of reasonable perspectives intriguing.

As for Ibn-i Sina, if you are not familiar with the figure I strongly recommend a quick wiki trip since his work as a physician bridged the gap between 'the enlightenment' and the first medical heroes: Galen & Hippocrates. I glossed over his metaphysics this morning, however, and was intrigued to find that his argument for the existence of god was rooted in the argument of first-cause. This position is curious because it rests on an irrational desire to insist that there is not, and can not be, an infinite regression instead. Certainly the idea of an infinite regression is rather unpalatable, but how can we insist that it cannot be? In fact, the proposition that the universe had a beginning is just as incredible if you stop and think about it, and in such cases that any outcome at all would be remarkable one cannot argue that something is true because its antithesis would be remarkable. Furthermore, it's interesting because if Ibn-i Sina was alive today, he would be obliged to argue that God must be whatever substance preceeded that near infinitessimal  point of plasma which comprised our universe in the first fractions of the first second that ever was; or even (if you agree with Lawrence Krauss) nothing at all. Yet the story which caught my imagination was that it fell to Al-Ghazali, in his work 'The Incoherence of Philosophers', to point out that Ibn-i Sina was not applying logic to his metaphysics in the same way that he was to his other, many disciplines. Al-Ghazali's work has been noted by some as the beginning of the end for the golden era of science in the Islamic Empire (he also argued that Ibn-i Sina's position was heretical which probably didn't help), and I found it a rather amusing irony that, strictly speaking, Al-Ghazali was right: Ibn-i Sina did fail to apply his logic as rigorously in some aspects of his metaphysics. It is a strange feeling to find oneself agreeing on a point of logic with a figure famed (in part) for the end of a scientific era. This story, like most historical stories, is surely a gross simplification of the matter, but I thought the irony worth sharing.

We took a taxi to Nazim and Iclal's house. The apartment block was apparently commisioned by Nazim (it even has his name on the front door) and designed by my uncle Mehmet. I was gladdened to note that the rendezvous with Iclal and family was less sullen than I had imagined it to be although whenever, on greeting a newly arriving family member, my mother produced that most appropriate phrase of mourning "i'm sorry for your loss" the inevitable response, a silence accompanied by a downward look and a saddened shrug of the lower lip, was a heart rending admission of pain. I found that I was deeply moved by contrasting observations this day. The solemnity of the bereaved, as well as the quiet continuings of the ever-present poorer members of society busily eking out an existence outside to gain a fraction of the luxuries I squander daily (Adana has many such residents), were starkly contrasted with the incredible hospitality that my Turkish relatives seem to be naturally endowed with, and the sheer joy and wonder and elation displayed by my adorable 3 and 7 year old cousins who mostly occupied themselves during the meeting by throwing their tiny bodies into sofas only to be chastened by their mother with "yavas!" (slowly).

Two of my relatives, Ertos and Nilgun, busied themselves in the kitchen preparing a traditional mourning sweet similar to Halva. After browning a mixture of pine nuts, semolina, and butter, boiling water and sugar were mixed in. We shared the sweet and tin-foiled portions were delivered to the neighbours. Iclal explained that it is traditional for this sweet to be cooked and eaten 3 days after the passing, and that it was also traditional for family to gather on the seventh day for a feast prepared by the widow. Some elements of prayer were mixed into this tradition (in that manner which typically blurs the division between culture and religion) although I am informed that Nazim himself was not a religious man (further attested to by the bar in his living room with shelf adorned with many spirits as well as photos of my brother and cousins). I imagine that the preparation of food for others is probably a good way to keep ones mind occupied when the blackest thoughts lurk nearby, and I've no doubt that the sharing of that food with family promotes the function of the family as a social support mechanism. Tradition can be comforting in difficult times.

A little later we went to visit the grave. The site was rather beautiful: a valley backdropped with a pine forest and cooled by a constant gentle breeze running down it's slopes. On arriving we were greeted by a stray dog whom I quickly befriended (my mother chastening me to leave the 'fleabag' alone, though I have now outgrown such years as I must oblige). The dog enjoyed the shade produced by Mehmet's car while we paid our respects at the grave.

After our visit, Mehmet generously took us to dinner at a restaurant named Elem (meaning sorrow) which I am only just now realising is a particularly apt name.

I recently stumbled upon a pleasing turn of phrase by Salman Rushdie: "We strive for the heights but our natures betray us... ...[we are] clowns in search of crowns". Well if we be clowns, let us be remembered with laughter.

Zombie Evac

I recently finished a 5k obstacle course with a friend of mine, except there was a twist. This was a zombie evacuation course. I'd heard, from my friend Ankur (whose excellent blog is well worth checking out), that it is an exciting glorified game of tag. This is essentially true: you have three lives, which are taken whenever a zombie snatches away a cord from your belt. But this was also such an under-sell! It was fantastic, really, and I think it was so good because of they got some critical elements of game design right, which I'll try to outline here:

Actors

The zombies did just the most brilliant job acting their parts. With gory make up and loose, ripped clothing, they shuffled, moaning, aimlessly. When approached they would usually scream and chase the runner, but sometimes they just sniffed, as if smelling the fresh meat available and were roused only to chase the second or third to pass them. This element of unpredictability kept the adrenaline high.

Beyond this, though, what is truly wonderful about having real, human actors, in any activity like this, is the ability to interact with them in unstructured ways. Actual skirmishes, with people actually responding to your attempts to dodge by them, make the experience dynamic and thrilling, but on some level they also produce more complex opportunities than a game of tag. The first such opportunity was presented to us when a soldier suggested we smear ourselves with zombie blood. Slopping the rich, red goo over my arms, face, and chest I continued onwards to find three zombies in a densely wooded grove. Changing tactic I groaned an shuffled forwards towards them. The first ignored me. The second ambled towards me without much interest. The third seemed suspicious and I chose this moment to break forward and speed clear. In my zeal I didn't see the fourth member of their party lying prone (with an injured leg) in the leaves ahead, and he snatched up at me removing my first tag and lifeline. Damn, it so nearly worked! This set-up gave me a sense of agency - it was up to me to decide how to play this game, and after playing it one way you might wonder what would have happened if you made a different choice. Even now, I wonder if maybe I should have kept up the pretense all the way.

But this was a structured plan, essentially handed to the player by the organiser. That's fine, but it doesn't necessarily make it feel like it's your story. Later on, though, I found another opportunity. I had dashed through a medical camp, over a fallen tree, and around a zombie in a tight space. My friend and team-mate, running just behind me now found himself alone trapped between the fallen tree and the zombie; in these one-on-one encounters it's very difficult to get past. Seeing Spencer (my friend) in peril, the zombie playing a cat-and-mouse game, Spencer trying to spot an opening, I turned back, clapped my hands loudly and yelled "HEY. HEY!!!". My diversion worked, the zombie spun to look at me, and Spencer found the instant he needed to dash past. Responding to my loud noises, though, both this zombie, and the three ahead made a bee-line for me, and I found myself with no option but to just sprint and hope. Eventually sliding way of course through the wet mud I got away, and the tactic had paid off. What a rush! I had had a genuine, dynamic, evolving interaction with the other actors in the game. This is unstructured play.

Besides the tactics of these skirmishes, however, the designers had used the actors to communicate with the runners in a very different way. The screaming, the unpredictability, the chasing, these are all aspects of the thrill, but there was also an effort to communicate horror. About half way through the course we found ourselves evading zombies dressed as doctors and police officers. These are people that represent the support-system, the foundation, of our society and the community in which we seek shelter. This choice of dress is a hint that maybe the community to which we flee is no longer there - perhaps there is no salvation to be had. These are the creeping thoughts of horror. Further on, we found ourselves confronted with a zombie-child. A child is not difficult to evade, and so adds no special thrill or fear. But the child doesn't serve that purpose. There can be, I suspect, no horror deeper in the mind of a parent, than the thought of losing one's own child. For other, the idea of an evil-child is somehow intrinsically creepy (for example the exorcist).

Live actors make a huge contribution to this kind of game, but to establish the mechanics of the game, the thrill, the chase, and the tactics, they needed the help of some mischievously designed obstacles...

Obstacles

While there were plenty of the standard fare (climb over this wall, crawl under this netting, etc.) the obstacles were so well executed because the designers had noticed that it is not the obstacles themselves that are important, per se, but the scenarios that are created by the interaction between the zombies and the obstacles.

This was made dramatically clear to me when at a pathway, walled with high metal fences, we encountered a zombie ambling ahead. The path split ahead and the zombie, having not yet noticed us, was shuffling away from us down the left tine of the fork. Spotting the opportunity I beckoned the nearby runners and we, five of us, all sprinted easily past to the right. Finding a fenced off dead-end I realised the peril I had caused for all of us. So it hit me, here, that the designers had likely instructed the zombie-actor to lay this trap, but it didn't jar with the authenticity of the moment which seemed just as if a zombie had been wandering aimlessly.

Another trap laid by the designers used a clearly visible zombie to focus our attention so that we found we were easily ambushed by another hiding zombie before we got there. On other occasions we saw the zombie and, before charging in, carefully survey the landscape and obstacles, prudently planning our path. After settling on a route we spring forward, dash past the zombie, over the obstacle, and, thinking ourselves free-and-clear find that we are charging head first into more zombies with too much momentum to stop.

Even when we could see the zombies  hiding in coffins and behind trees before we were spotted, the designer had now posed to us a question: do we sneak or do we run? In other words, the designer had presented a meaningful choice and thereby given us a sense of agency. This is so important in the design of any game, the guys over at extra credits produce a whole episode on it.

But even actors and obstacles, carefully collaborating can produce only a series of well-crafted skirmishes. Exciting though these may be in isolation they do not, alone, complete the picture...

Pacing

Ostensibly being evacuated to a safe zone, the designers also got right this critical, yet easily overlooked, piece of the puzzle: pacing. The course is not just a series of skirmishes with zombies and obstacles to overcome. The course represents a narrative of exodus from a horror which threatens to trap you, the runner, and this cannot be achieved with tightly packed cheap thrills. A zombie-girl in onesie pajamas screaming into your face might well get the heart racing, but it needs to happen at the right time. Much of the course was in the forest, so when not traversing an obstacle we  found ourselves attentively scanning our surroundings for any zombies hiding behind trees or in ditches. This meant that the intensity of the experience tended to fluctuate over short periods of time.

As the course progressed the obstacles got more challenging (The penultimate obstacle required dashing through a small building with multiple rooms full of zombies, with no way around, and runners funneled through the doorways). The obstacles were also closer together towards the end, so while you tried to conserve your sprinting legs you had to sprint more while also making calculated decisions about how far to run past each zombie before slowing down to catch your breath. This meant that as the course progressed the frequency and intensity of the thrills increased, climaxing in a mad dash past six or seven zombies to crawl under a metal grill and into the safety of the quarantine zone.

This pacing feels very close to that described, again, by extra credits.

In Summary

The course was great. While the torrential rain of the previous night helped intensify the experience by robbing us of even our physical stability, what made the experience such an incredible success was that the designers got both the short-term and the long-term design feeling right. The tactical skirmishes were well thought-out, the actors were convincing, and the course got more intense as we found ourselves beginning to get tired and weaken. So the course was exciting and thrilling, but it also believably placed us into a narrative of an increasingly desperate exodus. If you think you might like to try it for yourself, why don't you check out their website.

Second Amendment

On Friday December 14th, 2012, a 20 year old boy called Adam Lanza shot and killed his mother before driving her car to Sandy Hook Elementary School, taking with him his mother's legally registered .223 rifle, 9mm Glock and 9mm Sig Sauer, as well as a bullet proof vest. He thereafter proceeded to execute 6 teachers and 20 children, before killing himself. Sometimes terrible events happen which nobody could have foreseen or prevented. This is not one of those events. This is not the first mass shooting in the history of the USA. It's not even the first mass shooting this year. It's the seventh. the seventh!?!? The seventh mass shooting this year!!

The second amendment to the constitution of the United States of America reads "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." This is the passage within the United States Constitution which forces the United States government to entitle its people with the right to own guns. Notice the specific mention of 'a well regulated militia', which seems to imply that the amendment exists to prevent an authoritarian government from being establish which has military dominance over its people. In 2008 the District of Columbia v. Heller case saw the US supreme court rule that "The Second Amendment protects an individual right to possess a firearm unconnected with service in a militia, and to use that arm for traditionally lawful purposes, such as self-defense within the home", because the "Amendment's prefatory clause announces a purpose, but does not limit or expand the scope of the second part". We have a metaphor for people who follow a rule without considering its purpose; we call them sheep, we call them cattle.

There are two claims which are made to defend the right to bear arms in response to tragedies such as that of Sandy Hook:
1. The constitution protects the right to bear Arms
2. The person is at fault, not the weapon

The first claim is not one which is based on any moral or practical discussion about weapons, it's simply an assertion that law in the USA is (and ought to be) based on the constitution of the USA. Besides our religious convictions, where else do we assert, as a people, that a book or document's wording and content is perfect in every way, for all time, and never in need of further modification? Is there anyone who thinks that the author of the Bill of Rights was God, or was made, by some other means, perfect? Is there anyone who believes that James Madison, the father of the Bill of Rights, who initially rejected the idea considering it unnecessary, dangerous and impotent, however intelligent, however well intentioned, could have possibly predicted the state of his country more than 200 years into the future?

The Bill of Rights was created in 1789 in the wake of the American war of Independence. In such a time, surely it would seem eminently sensible to allow citizens to bear Arms to protect themselves from the possibility of an authoritarian government, or the invasion of another nation. Let us not forget that at this time the USA was a coalition of individual states comprised of very different people, also, and one might argue that the Second Amendment had concessionary value for individuals still suspicious of rival states (and the USA indeed suffered a civil war 50 years later).

In the light of these historical considerations, one cannot reasonably argue that the constitution of the United States of America is perfect and relevant for all time, no matter what the circumstances or how the environment changes. To do such would be to pretend that the document itself was not a product of its time and circumstances.

The second claim was made by James Jacobs, the director of the Center for Research in Crime and Justice at New York University; The BBC quoted him as saying "I think this is more of a mental health problem than a gun control problem". To my mind this entirely misses the point. The point is not who or what is at fault but what the outcome will be. Surely our first priority is fewer dead children? Of course Adam Lanza was at fault, and probably crazy too (who the hell takes a bullet proof vest to shoot up a school?); do we mean to imply by this that it was his evil, or crazy, intentions which expelled pieces of metal rapidly into the flesh of children? Let us take another nation by way of comparison. Japan has extremely tight gun control laws. In 2008 the annual rate of gun homicide was less than 1 per million in Japan. In the USA it was 30. More than 30 times number of murders using guns. Does anyone think the murderers are not at fault? no. Is there any doubt that this is the result of the availability of guns, and not the result of  'fewer crazy people'? Surely the answer must be no? Would Adam Lanza still have killed 20 children and 6 adults at Sandy Hook if he didn't have access to his mother's legally owned guns? I'll let you figure it out.

Diffuse responsibility

I recently watched an excellent talk given by Sam Harris in which he argued that free will is an illusion (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCofmZlC72g). I don't want to go into all the arguments here so check it out on YouTube if you haven't already seen it. I think the most convincing argument, for me, however, was that if you frame the discussion properly, the idea of free will even becomes nonsensical. It goes something like this: If you know that your actions are determined by your thoughts, and if you know that thoughts simply occur by some unselected means, what could it even mean to suggest that you had the free will to make a decision? Even if you argue that free will is the ability to decide not to act upon a thought, you are forced to ask 'how did you make the decision not to act?'. You made it at the behest of another, competing, thought. If you can never really choose your thoughts, what does it mean to say you had free will to choose your actions?

More recently I watched a talk given by Daniel Dennett (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwbnGqOrAEM&list=LP1VcCvcWr-nM&index=3&feature=plcp) in which he argued that free will does exist, but not as the 'ghost in the machine', not as a soul, not as an ultimate freedom which he considered to be obviously impossible. He seemed to be arguing, although he never clearly redefined the term, that free will is the title we give to people we consider competent to be held accountable for their actions. He goes on to discuss the idea of considering 'practical' free will over free will 'in principle'. It is slightly ironic that he complains about reviewers who have misunderstood his previous works by claiming that he simply redefined the terms in question, because I must find myself levelling the same criticism here. Saying that kind of free will is obviously untrue doesn't provide a justification for redefining the term since that kind of free will is what most people mean when they say 'free will'. But, okay, a discussion about 'practical' free will, or moral competence, is still worth having.

Punishment seemed to be a primary theme of the remainder of his talk. Somewhat curiously he intimated that those who attack free will might be doing so simply in order to reach the end conclusion that 'no one is responsible for their actions' (a conclusion of determinism). He seemed particularly alarmed at experimental results which showed subjects cheating more at a game after having read that free will is an illusion. It seems to me, however, that the same charge could equally be brought against Dennett; that he is desperate for us to not abandon punishment, which he sees as a useful tool for managing society. I think the whole argument is really trying to address the issue of responsibility, since 'how can you be held accountable without free will?'. I think this is a failure to think clearly about the issues, however. We can hold an earthquake accountable for the destruction it causes, not in the sense that we should express blame or malice, but in the sense that it was the very real cause of the destruction. The over zealous determinist might then argue that we are obliged to follow the never-ending chain of causes such that responsibility is never attributed to anything (or anyone). Dennett (a compatibilist), on the other hand, seems to want to ascribe responsibility to the first 'agent' involved in the chain; i.e. if I shoot someone the gun is not at fault but I am, having the moral competence to decide not to do it. Here I think the illusory nature of free will as described by Harris undercuts the compatibilist argument; if we know my decision is just a function of my upbringing, my circumstances, my genetics, and some other random factors, then in what sense was I responsible for the decision? what about the causes which led to the manafacture of the gun? This of course, does not change the fact that I pulled the trigger and, if not stopped, might again. We can hold agents accountable for their actions, we can incarcerate them when they are a danger in the same way we protect ourselves from harmful non-agents such as the natural elements, but must also consider the chain of events.

I argue, therefore, for a diffusion of responsibility. Like the roots of a tree, many causes contrived to produce a result, and the most directly involved agents must bear the brunt of the responsibility. However it is absurd to consider that any one agent is the sole author of his actions, and so lesser responsibility must be ascribed to other agents within the chain of causes.

I think there are two common criticisms of this position:

The first is a reflexive fear of the removal of blame, as if that somehow has a logical bearing upon responsibility. You could, for example, blame a serial killer for the murders he commits, but for a determinist this makes little sense. His mind was just the product of his experiences, genetics, upbringing etc. so to what extent can you truly ascribe blame? And aren't the parents partially responsible for the deaths if their parenting was atrocious? how much are they to blame? I would argue that blame is an irrelevant and often harmful framework for thinking about this problem. Instead of focusing upon blame, punishment, or retribution, we should focus on minimising and repairing the damage. We don't need to blame the serial killer in order to know that it makes sense to incarcerate him to protect ourselves. If there is something we can do to repair his broken mind as well, all the better.  The same reasoning applies to the parents; if they were in some way negligent to their child, some way of preventing further negligence seems necessary. This might entail compulsory education on parenting, medical intervention (preventing them from having further children), or physical imprisonment. Perhaps one, or all, of these solutions seem distasteful, but the question of whether they are more harmful than negligent parenting, or whether there are better solutions, will have a definite answer (whether we know that answer or not). Thus the most appropriate decision will be the one which, to the best of our knowledge, most significantly minimises the harm (where harm includes psychological as well as physical states).

The second is a practical complaint. One could argue that it is difficult, if not impossible, to consider every step in the chain. Okay, so a serial killer may be responsible for his murder, but then to what extent was he influenced by advertising, friends, teachers? Surely there are a myriad of other causes of which we are unaware? This may be true. The fact that we often can't perfectly model the entire chain of events doesn't undermine the logical consistency of the argument, and isn't the same thing as saying that we know nothing about the chain of causes. From a pragmatic standpoint we can, and sometimes do, implement the approach of diffuse responsibility, when we refer to 'mitigating circumstances'. Just because we don't know the true nature of every step in the chain of causes, however, does not vitiate the argument, or unburden us of our responsibility to minimise the possibility of such harm recurring. Where we are not confident of a specific cause in the chain of events, and cannot reasonably investigate further, we can only note down the events (and our suspicions), keen with the intent of further inquiry in the light of similar recurrent events.

Moral Value

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal"

[Declaration of Independence of the U.S.A]

It is my hope that after reading the following argument, you will consider the above quote to be both inherently flawed yet also of immense practical value.

In the jargon of logic, we use the word 'axiom' to denote the first half of that quote; a truth that is held to be self-evident. The reasoning stems from the notion that it is simply impossible to make any kind of claim without first making some kind of assumption, even if that assumption is something as simple as 'I assume that this is not a dream'. A document which first clearly lays out the axioms upon which further claims are made is one which would appear to be well reasoned, but I think it's quite clear that the second part of the quote simply cannot be true. If nothing else, it is evident to all with eyes that all men look different to one another. It is evident, also, to those with ears that men generally have differences of opinion too. But at the risk of appearing trite, it's reasonable to suggest that most people would probably interpret the phrase further, and that what is meant is that all men are considered to be equally valuable and should therefore have equal rights. I intend to demonstrate that all men are not in fact equally valuable, and to further demonstrate that this does not necessarily mean they should have unequal rights. To avoid the danger of losing the more pragmatic readers here, I want to assert that this does not mean the discourse is meaningless because 'rights' are not the only issue at stake, your moral compass is my primary target.

I love google images!

The first point to contend with is this sticky notion of 'value'. It's easy for us to think that things can have absolute value, but careful thought can very quickly unravel this misconception. A 20 dollar note appears to have absolute value, after all your 20 dollar note is no more or less valuable than mine. Economists are of course acutely aware that the value of your 20 dollar note lies in its capacity to purchase your fruit, taxi fare, or film ticket. But the prices of those commodities vary with respect to the state of the domestic economy and with respect to the power of foreign economies. So perhaps money was a poor example? After all, money is just a voucher designed to lubricate the mass exchange of goods and services. But even those goods and services have relative value. An apple is more valuable to a hungry man than a full one. The point to note, therefore, is that value is something which is ascribed by an individual rather than something which belongs to the item or service in question. Pizza is worth more to me than fried liver because I can't stand fried liver, but I know people for whom that is not true.

The question of moral value, therefore, must also be relative. And this is quite clearly true, despite societal norms. The ten commandments of the Christian religion must be more valuable to a Christian than they are to me. My personal well being is more valuable to me, than it is to a stranger. But how does this apply in the moral domain? how can one human being be worth more or less than another?

Well, while you may not be consciously aware of it, your unconscious mind is constantly judging (and re-evaluating) the value of the people which surround you. Most of us consider our family to be more valuable to us than strangers, and this must be because we have either consciously or unconsciously determined them to be so. My experience has been that most people have not written a list of traits which they respect and subsequently found that these traits are more common in their family members than in the general populace. This implies that the decision to value your family seems to have been made on an unconscious level. But how is the unconscious mind making these decisions? Does my unconscious mind respect the same qualities that my conscious mind respects? If I value beauty,  compassion, and intelligence, then surely so will my unconscious mind?

There are obvious reasons to believe that your unconscious and conscious mind agree about many things, but there are also good reasons to believe there will be differences. This study (http://www.yale.edu/acmelab/articles/bargh_chen_burrows_1996.pdf), for example, demonstrates that our unconscious minds are probably more racist (and stereotyped in many other ways) than our conscious minds will allow us to admit (if you're too lazy to read the paper then this paragraph on wiki will give you the cliff notes http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priming_(psychology)#In_daily_life). I am aware that this is a surprising result for many people, but it is one of many studies which indicate that we are largely ruled by our unconscious minds.

This evidence forces us to make an uncomfortable admission: we are unconsciously judging everyone around us and we, for the most part, have no idea what reasoning those judgements are based on. Worse than that, we know that the only reasoning our unconscious minds could possibly use is the accumulation of its experience. Does that mean I have to feel guilty about watching action films because the violence encourages my subconscious mind to hurt other people? well yes and no. Watching one violent film is unlikely to change my entire perspective on violent behaviour, but it will have a subtle normalising effect over time, so perhaps I should have the presence of mind not to watch violent films every day.

But surely, just because I'm aware that person A is more intelligent than person B doesn't mean that I have to believe that person A is worth more than person B and should be treated differently? True! but that's because intelligience is just one of a myriad of traits I value and respect. How could I value someone who is intelligent but has no compassion? I could respect the trait of intelligence, but it would be difficult to value the individual entirely. A simple thought experiment highlights the point well:

you are kidnapped and your captor asks you to decide who, out of two people, is to be murdered. The first is Hitler/Stalin etc. (pick your preferred evil archetype) and the second is Mother Teresa/princess Diana etc. (pick your preferred good archetype).

Even though we're uncomfortable with being forced to make this decision, the 'right' answer is entirely clear to us. So if almost everyone agrees on the answer to this question, there must be some basis on which everyone has made this judgement, i.e. the qualities of one individual were regarded more positively by most people than the qualities of the other individual. If the differing value of human life is true in this extreme scenario then there is no reason, in principle, why it should not also be true in any lesser scenario.

Before marching off to judge other humans, however, I would argue that the practical benefits of treating all other humans as equal are so great (e.g. the abolishment of slavery), that it is counter-productive to highlight the differences in most of our daily lives. It is true to say that some people are more valuable to humanity than others, but we might not have enough information to make a reasonable judgement, and even when we do everyone in society benefits so much by treating all other humans as equal there's usually no practical reason to attend to the differences. It's a bit like trying to choose between two nearly identical cakes in a cake shop. There's a point at which the time you waste trying to decide which cake is better outweighs the difference in tastiness. If you spend too long trying to decide which one you want your lunch break will be over and you wont have time to buy either one. The differences in moral value between people are usually so slight, or so complex and difficult to quantify, that if you focus on them you lose out on the creamy frosted tastiness of equality.

I'll take a couple of equality cakes to go please!

So maybe you think to yourself "the discussion has no value! you show that people are not equal but suggest that I act as if they were". It is important to keep the differences in perspective, but it's also important to consider how we value other humans. To defer judgement to our unconscious minds is a morally untenable position to take: firstly because it is either cowardly or lazy, and secondly because it seems to miss the broader implications of the discussion. In every day life people really are making these judgements! Healthcare organisations are deciding where to apportion their resources. Should they put more money towards developing new treatments for blood cancer or bone cancer? Why does one group of individuals have more right to survive than the other? 'But I'm not a doctor!' you might say. But you probably are part of a democratic society in which you have a right to an opinion, and a responsibility to express it. But the implications of this discussion go deeper still. Politicians decide who should pay more tax which, while generally not causing the end of lives, certainly affects the quality of them. If taxing the poor more than the rich caused the nation to be wealthier (by encouraging foreign investment, for example), would that be the right thing to do? It wouldn't feel fair, but everyone would be better off.

Ultimately we must extend this argument and ask ourselves: do we value what's fair, or do we value what works? When what's fair also works we're in luck, but reality doesn't always give us this option. I think that there are times in life when we have to give up our childish notions of what's fair and simply be pragmatic. It's not that justice is inherently a naive conception, it's simply that it's not always the best tool for the job.

Oh, and just enjoy whichever cake you happen to get.

discontent with contentment

According to Alain de Botton, Nietzsche claimed that those addicted to comfort are, "small, mean people - like shy deer who hide in the forest". I confess to knowing little of this philosopher or his works, but I do like the principle. I do not admire the scornful tone, which perhaps it implies, but I cannot deny that I abhor laziness, and that all those who know me consider me famously, almost absurdly, impatient.

That is just my character. I know not whether I could change it, nor do I wish to try. Perhaps your character is more laid back, cautious, relaxed, or reserved. Our language allows for much implications of accusation and admiration by only very slight nuances of meaning, but no judgement is here intended. Though who could deny that the hardest-won tastes sweetest? maybe this is just a consequence of our relativistic, rationalising brains (e.g. 'if I worked so hard for it, it must be amazing', or 'if this is not precious, all that time spent must on it must have been wasted')?

Even if this is so, without great endeavour there is no great accomplishment. As we know, great is a relative term, and we tend to compare our activities and experiences with those of the people around us, and with our impression of our potential self. When we excel relative to those around us we feel pride; when we do not, we shy away from such activities blaming others with the gift of 'talent' or 'advantage'. When we excel relative to ourselves we also feel pride; when we do not, we feel the discontentment and frustration that comes with not matching up to our, often unrealistic, perception of our potential selves.

In order to accomplish great things, however, we must push ourselves to meet the high achievements of the unrealistic potential self. Does this mean that striving to meet great accomplishment is inherently tied to discontentment and frustration? My, admittedly shallow, understanding of Nietszche's philosophy is that this is indeed his opinion, but that such frustration and pain is therefore a "good" thing, a necessity which provides the energy required to strive for greatness.

So why not avoid this pain and disappointment, and live a comfortable life, if you can, happy to enjoy the luxuries you are afforded? Here in the 'western world' (I apologise for using this outdated and inaccurate term), we are afforded so many luxuries; the bottom levels of Maslow's hierarchy (e.g. food, water, shelter) are almost afforded by default; if you cannot provide for yourself, the state will provide for you. Friendship, love, and allegiance are easy to come by for most, since most others are also looking for a sense of belonging. The answer to this question can be found in the same place: right at the top of the pyramid, the levels of self actualisation, we find activities like creativity and problem solving. These are activities which are usually easy to begin, and difficult to finish; activities which require a level of tenacity and which take on the metaphor of a journey, or a struggle. These activities can contain many of those elements which Nietszche demands; the adversity and difficulty of circumstance, and often contain the long-lasting reward of contentment, which the lower levels do not.

So yes, idleness, rest, and relaxation are important, just as is the strive for improvement. As with all things in life, however, the question is where exactly to strike the balance. If you find yourself discontent; then perhaps it is because this balance needs redressing?

Direction

This is my first blog. I don't know how many there'll be. They might die out tomorrow. They might continue as long as I do. But that thought is a metaphor for the theme I want to consider here: direction.

I am but one mind, bound in one body, and one brief temporal frame. Without inherent purpose, or singular direction. All other minds differ from my own, and yet in this regard they are all as one; each searching for purpose, devotion, direction. No one wishes for the life of a mundane drone, though all crave a certain level of acceptance and belonging. As I turn my quarter century I consider once again what will my purpose be? I won't pretend that it's the first time I've asked that question. Nor do I believe that there is, or even can be, a single right answer.

Some find this answer in faith; believing that, since their purpose is not clear, it must belong to a higher purpose. I am unable to commit to such absolutes. Others focus on their career, striving ever onwards for mastery and recognition. This can be a powerful and fulfilling motivator. But, do not such people eventually look under their feet to find that the foundations of that accomplishment eventually crumble? Odysseus learned that he could only gain immortality, and thus fulfil his purpose, by legacy of DNA, and not by a legacy left in battle, or as king. But even this purpose will eventually perish, as will all things.

Perhaps there are some, many even, who claim that such directionlessness, such freedom, is a wonderful liberty. I, indeed, was brought up in a society that always claimed more choice can only be a good thing. However, I cannot but envy my mental rose-tinted visage of the artisan, the craftsman, the apprentice. The man who, having only known one life, can only devote oneself to the singular purpose of that training. In reality such are difficult lives, no doubt, but there is something strangely appealing nonetheless.

I have always considered myself a secular humanist, in the sense that I believe in the betterment of mankind; that man, even if he is not primed to act in this way, can and should strive to improve himself and support the improvement of others around him. And perhaps the purpose I could find would be to devote myself to loving those around me. Abraham Lincoln is supposed to have said, "I destroy my enemies when I make them my friends"; and a deep part of me resonates with this ideal. Yet my rational, thinking brain laments that the freedom imposed upon the living, and the wide variety of circumstance which accompanies it, demands a wide difference in opinion by all people, in all things. Perhaps unification is an optimists dream? But, is a goal that is unachievable still worth striving towards? can the value of the journey not outrank that of the destination?

This is the ideal by which I choose to live, for if it is false, then on what basis does life have value? If you consider these words overblown, melodramatic or self-pitying in any way, then I fear that we have misunderstood one another, and I apologise for wasting your precious minutes. Please try your best to make the next few count.