Category: Philosophy
My excellent Conversation with Harvey Mansfield
Here is the audio, video, and transcript. Here is part of the episode summary:
Tyler and Harvey discuss how Machiavelli’s concept of fact was brand new, why his longest chapter is a how-to guide for conspiracy, whether America’s 20th-century wars refute the conspiratorial worldview, Trump as a Shakespearean vulgarian who is in some ways more democratic than the rest of us, why Bronze Age Pervert should not be taken as a model for Straussianism, the time he tried to introduce Nietzsche to Quine, why Rawls needed more Locke, what it was like to hear Churchill speak at Margate in 1953, whether great books are still being written, how his students have and haven’t changed over 61 years of teaching, the eclipse rather than decline of manliness, and what Aristotle got right about old age and much more.
Excerpt:
COWEN: From a Straussian perspective, where’s the role for the skills of a good analytic philosopher? How does that fit into Straussianism? I’ve never quite understood that. They seem to be very separate approaches, at least sociologically.
MANSFIELD: Analytic philosophers look for arguments and isolate them. Strauss looks for arguments and puts them in the context of a dialogue or the implicit dialogue. Instead of counting up one, two, three, four meanings of a word, as analytic philosophers do, he says, why is this argument appropriate for this audience and in this text? Why is it put where it was and not earlier or later?
Strauss treats an argument as if it were in a play, which has a plot and a background and a context, whereas analytic philosophy tries to withdraw the argument from where it was in Plato to see what would we think of it today and what other arguments can be said against it without really wanting to choose which is the truth.
COWEN: Are they complements or substitutes, the analytic approach and the Straussian approach?
MANSFIELD: I wouldn’t say complements, no. Strauss’s approach is to look at the context of an argument rather than to take it out of its context. To take it out of its context means to deprive it of the story that it represents. Analytic philosophy takes arguments out of their context and arranges them in an array. It then tries to compare those abstracted arguments.
Strauss doesn’t try to abstract, but he looks to the context. The context is always something doubtful. Every Platonic dialogue leaves something out. The Republic, for example, doesn’t tell you about what people love instead of how people defend things. Since that’s the case, every argument in such a dialogue is intentionally a bad argument. It’s meant for a particular person, and it’s set to him.
The analytic philosopher doesn’t understand that arguments, especially in a Platonic dialogue, can deliberately be inferior. It easily or too easily refutes the argument which you are supposed to take out of a Platonic dialogue and understand for yourself. Socrates always speaks down to people. He is better than his interlocutors. What you, as an observer or reader, are supposed to do is to take the argument that’s going down, that’s intended for somebody who doesn’t understand very well, and raise it to the level of the argument that Socrates would want to accept.
So to the extent that all great books have the character of this downward shift, all great books have the character of speaking down to someone and presenting truth in an inferior but still attractive way. The reader has to take that shift in view and raise it to the level that the author had. What I’m describing is irony. What distinguishes analytic philosophy from Strauss is the lack of irony in analytic philosophy. Philosophy must always take account of nonphilosophy or budding philosophers and not simply speak straight out and give a flat statement of what you think is true.
To go back to Rawls, Rawls based his philosophy on what he called public reason, which meant that the reason that convinces Rawls is no different from the reason that he gives out to the public. Whereas Strauss said reason is never public or universal in this way because it has to take account of the character of the audience, which is usually less reasonable than the author.
And yes he does tell us what Straussianism means and how to learn to be a Straussian. From his discussion you will see rather obviously that I am not one. Overall, I found this dialogue to be the most useful source I have found for figuring out how Straussianism fits into other things, such as analytics philosophy, historical reading of texts, and empirical social science.
Perhaps the exchange is a little slow to start, but otherwise fascinating throughout. I am also happy to recommend Harvey’s recent book The Rise and Fall of Rational Control: The History of Modern Political Philosophy.
Understanding Demonic Policies
Matt Yglesias has a good post on the UK’s Triple Lock, which requires that UK pensions rise in line with whichever is highest: wages, inflation, or 2.5 percent. Luis Garicano calls this “the single stupidest policy in the entire Western world” — and I’d be inclined to agree, if only the competition weren’t so fierce.
The triple lock guarantees that pensioner incomes grow at the expense of everything else, and the mechanism bites hardest when the economy is weakest. During the 2009 financial crisis wages fell and inflation declined, for example, yet pensioner incomes rose by 2.5 percent! (Technically this was under a double-lock period; the triple lock came slightly later — as if the lesson from the crisis was that the guarantee hadn’t been generous enough.)
Now, as Yglesias notes, if voters were actually happy with pensioner income growing at the expense of worker income, that would be one thing. But no one seems happy with the result. The same pattern is clear in the United States:
As I wrote in January, there is a pattern in American politics where per capita benefits for elderly people have gotten consistently more generous in the 21st century even as the ratio of retired people to working-age people has risen.
This keeps happening because it’s evidently what the voters want. Making public policy more generous to senior citizens enjoys both broad support among the mass public and it’s something that elites in the two parties find acceptable even if neither side is particularly enthusiastic about it. But what makes it a dark pattern in my view is that voters seem incredibly grumpy about the results.
Nobody’s saying things have been going great in America over the past quarter century.
Instead, the right is obsessed with the idea that mysterious forces of fraud have run off with all the money, while the left has convinced itself that billionaires aren’t paying any taxes.
But it’s not some huge secret why it seems like the government keeps spending and spending without us getting any amazing new public services — it’s transfers to the elderly.
The contradictions of “Elderism” are an example of rational irrationality. Individual voters bears essentially no cost for holding inconsistent political beliefs — wanting generous pensions and robust public services and low taxes is essentially free, since no single vote determines the outcome. The irrationality is individually rational and collectively ruinous. Voters are not necessarily confused about what they want; they simply face no price for wanting incompatible things. Arrow’s impossibility theorem adds another layer: even if each voter held perfectly coherent preferences, there is no reliable procedure for aggregating them into a coherent social choice. The grumpiness Yglesias documents may not reflect hypocrisy so much as the incoherence of demanding that collective choice makes sense — collective choice cannot be rationalized by coherent preferences and thus it’s perfectly possible that democracy can simultaneously “choose” generous pensions and “demand” better services for workers, with no mechanism to register the contradiction until the bill arrives.
Jürgen Habermas, RIP
Here is one obituary. My favorite book of his was
The moralization of artificial intelligence
We started by asking how moralized AI has become in public discourse. Analyzing 69,890 news headlines from 2018 to 2024, we found that AI was moralized at levels comparable to GMOs and vaccines, technologies whose moral opposition has been studied for decades. It ranked above both. The sharpest spike came within weeks of ChatGPT’s launch in late 2022.
When we surveyed representative samples of Americans, a majority of AI opponents said their views wouldn’t change even if AI proved safe and beneficial. That’s consequence insensitivity, the hallmark of moral conviction, not practical calculation. Across art, chatbots, legal tools, and romantic companions, AI moralization loaded onto a single latent factor. A global moral stance, dressed up in whatever practical language is available.
The behavioral data make this concrete: a one standard deviation increase in moralization scores predicted a 42% drop in actual AI usage, even when it would have benefited that person personally. The conviction preceded the behavior by up to 573 days.
The next time someone gives you three different reasons to oppose AI, each one dissolving under mild scrutiny, you’re probably not watching someone think. You’re watching someone feel.
Here is the tweet storm, here is the paper by de Mello, et.al.
Liberalism.org
…on March 12 we’ll be launching Liberalism.org, a new project from IHS [Institute for Humane Studies]. We’re aiming to build something akin to a modern-day coffee house of the liberal tradition—a digital gathering place where today’s most innovative liberal thinkers can weigh tradeoffs, think across differences, and apply liberal values to the challenges of today and the future.
The idea is to create a space that is serious but accessible—a home for exploring political, economic, intellectual, and civic freedom as a coherent and evolving tradition. We’re hoping it will serve as both an outlet for the ideas and a public-facing resource for those who care about the future of liberalism in its broad, classical sense.
A Fly Has Been Uploaded
In 2024, the entire neuronal diagram of the fruit-fly brain–some 140,000 neurons and 50 million connections–was mapped. Later research showed that the map could be used to predict behavior. Now, Eon Systems a firm with some of the scientists involved in the fruit-fly research and with the goal of uploading a human brain has announced that they uploaded the fruit fly brain to a digital environment.
The digital fly appears to behave in the digital environment in reasonably fly like ways–this is not a simulation, the fly’s “sensors” are being activated by the digital environment and the neurons are responding. Some more details here.
N.b. this work is not yet published.
Addendum 1: Of course Robin Hanson is an advisor to Eon Systems.
Addendum 2: In other news, human brain cells on a chip learned to play Doom. No word on whether they were conscious or not.
A simple way to improve your thought and conclusions
Take some policy, action, or person whom you regard as morally questionable and indeed is morally questionable. That same policy, action, or person does some bad things, bad in conquentialist terms I now mean. Practically bad, utilitarian bad.
The odds are that you overrate the badness of those consequences by some considerable degree.
Even very smart people do this. Sometimes they do it more, because they can come up with more elaborate arguments for why the bad consequences are completely disastrous.
They might overrate the badness of those consequences by as much as 5x or 10x (gdp is a huge mound of stuff!).
So if you want to have better opinions, look for the cases where you do this and stop doing it.
Easy-peasy!
And good luck with that.
My Conversation with the excellent Henry Oliver
Here is the audio, video, and transcript. In the first half of the episode we discuss Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, and then move on to other topics. Here is the episode summary:
Henry Oliver is the preeminent literary critic for non-literary nerds. His Substack, The Common Reader, has thousands of subscribers drawn in by Henry’s conviction that great literature is where ideas “walk and talk amongst the mess of the real world” in a way no other discipline can match. Tyler, who has called Henry’s book Second Act “one of the very best books written on talent,” sat down with him to compare readings of Measure for Measure and range across English literature more broadly.
Tyler and Henry trade rival readings of the play, debate whether Isabella secretly seduces Angelo, argue over whether the Duke’s proposal is closer to liberation or enslavement, trace the play’s connections to The Merchant of Venice and The Rape of Lucrece, assess the parallels to James I, weigh whether it’s a Girardian play (Oliver: emphatically not), and parse exactly what Isabella means when she says “I did yield to him,” before turning to the best way to consume Shakespeare, what Jane Austen took from Adam Smith, why Swift may be the most practically intelligent writer in English, how advertising really works and why most of it doesn’t, which works in English literature are under- and overrated, what makes someone a late bloomer, whether fiction will deal seriously with religion again, whether Ayn Rand’s villains are more relevant now than ever, and much more.
Excerpt:
COWEN: Now, before doing your current work, you were in advertising for almost a decade. How do you feel that work in advertising has shaped how you read literature?
OLIVER: [laughs] I try to keep them very separate. I try not to let advertising—
COWEN: You try, but I’m sure you fail.
OLIVER: —pollute my readings of literature.
COWEN: Why is it a pollution?
OLIVER: Because advertising is not a great art, and to apply the principles of advertising to literature would be a diminishment.
COWEN: You don’t have to apply the principles. Advertising gives you insight into what people value, how people respond, and that’s also a part of literature.
OLIVER: It is if you take advertising not to mean headlines and banner ads and things like that, but to mean the calling of attention to some particular thing of importance. You can see that a lot of the great writers were very good advertisers of their own work, of their own ideas.
COWEN: Swift in particular.
OLIVER: Swift is very, very good at advertising. If you wanted to be obtuse, you could reframe his whole career as an exercise in lobbying and PR, and realize that no one’s ever been as good at it as he was.
COWEN: So, your favorite authors are the ones who are best at advertising is what you’re now telling us.
OLIVER: I have a very catholic view of literature, and I admire those writers who are practical and can do a lot of different things. I love Samuel Johnson, and one reason is that he can write a sermon, a legal opinion, an advert—almost anything you want. I think the literary talent can often be turned to those multiple uses.
COWEN: Why isn’t there more creativity in advertising? So much of it, to me, seems stupid and boring.
OLIVER: Yes.
COWEN: You would think, well, if they had a clever ad that people would talk about, it would be better, but that doesn’t happen. Is it a market failure, or it’s actually more or less optimal?
OLIVER: I don’t think it’s optimal. We don’t know how well advertising works, and we’re still impeded in that because of the laws about who you can and cannot target on the internet. I think most people would actually be surprised, if they went into an advertising agency, to learn just how poorly we can target people. Everyone thinks they’re being targeted all the time, but being followed by a toaster advert is really quite basic, and everyone uses the same toaster example because everyone’s being followed by the same bloody toaster. That’s not targeting.
I think they’ve been taken over by bad ideas. There are two competing schools of advertising. One of them is the hard sell, where you put a lot of information and facts, and you name the product a lot. “Buy this aspirin. It cures headaches three times quicker than other brands. We did a study—38 percent of people . . .” And you just hammer it all the time.
The other advertising school is image-based. Arthur Rubicam wrote those wonderful Steinway adverts. The instrument of the immortals. Have you brought great music into your home? The woman in the dress at the piano. You’re buying a whole mood or a vibe. The peak of that is like the tiger on the Frosty cereal packet. You don’t need words. Or the Marlboro Man—you buy these cigarettes. You’re going to look like that cowboy in that shirt, and you’re going to smoke. You’re going to feel like a man, and it’s just going to be great. Coors Light does that now.
Then there was this terrible, terrible thing called the Creative Revolution in the 1960s, where supposedly—this is like the modernism of advertising.
Definitely recommended, and do get out your copy of the Shakespeare.
Addendum: Here are comments from Henry.
*Being and Time: An Annotated Translation*
Translated from the German by Cyril Welch.
Periodically I am asked if I have read Being and Time, and I always give the same response: “I have looked at every page.”
I also have spent time with it in German, though not for every page. But have I read it? Read it properly? Can anyone?
Is the book worth some study? Yes. But.
People, this volume is the best chance you are going to get.
Gaurav Ahuja interviews me
I very much enjoyed this exchange, print only, here is the link. Excerpt:
Gaurav: Going back to Iceland for a moment. I’ve never truly appreciated how old that parliament is. A thousand years is extraordinary. What is it about Iceland that has allowed that kind of continuity?
Tyler: Iceland was taken over by Denmark for quite a while. But the Icelanders persisted as an autonomous culture with their own language, not simply becoming Danish. They had this tradition of individualism, which you can read in the Icelandic sagas. Their own kind of common law, a good system of incentives built into the legal code, traditions of autonomy based on food supply and how you deal with the cold and the weather. For a long time, they just played defense. Then after World War II, they had a chance to transform it into what I think is one of the world’s most successful countries.
Their total population is around four hundred thousand. To do that with such numbers in a place that is not always hospitable is remarkable. They have almost entirely green energy. They’re super resourceful, very highly educated. Book sales per capita are through the ceiling. There’s something about their interest in poetry, legal codes, reading, what they do with those long winter nights, that has been quite persistent. That’s an informal institution, and it’s been very durable.
Is there anything in US policy that you see drawing us toward a short-term siren call that makes it harder to create a lasting democracy?
Our government fiscal policy is irresponsible. I hope we can survive it. I’m not a doom-and-gloomer, but thirty-eight trillion dollars in debt is not ideal. I don’t think we should try to run a balanced budget. T-bills play a key role in the world economy, and some amount of debt and deficit is good for us, good for the world. But we’re pushing it too far. We underinvest in our young people, underinvest in parts of our education. But look, we’re a pretty successful country.
There’s this interesting tension between wanting a stable environment to build something that lasts and needing to ride a new wave for something to emerge in the first place.
I was recently thinking about how much the bad weather in the United States is functional for some larger purpose. You learn early that you have to deal with things. You need a certain kind of independence, planning, and preparation.
British weather is quite benevolent. Maybe it’s too gray, but it’s not going to kill you. American weather, hurricanes, blizzards, flooding, is very volatile. We don’t always feel it because we’ve become wealthy, but maybe in part we had to become wealthy to deal with that volatility. That might be a blessing in disguise. It’s related to the earlier point about Iceland. It’s tough there. You’d better be pretty adaptive. A perfectly stable environment is not ideal either.
Interesting throughout, and plenty of fresh material. The weather point I owe to conversations with Henry Oliver and Rebecca Lowe.
Colin McGinn’s “My Honest Views”
I think David Lewis was off his rocker, I think Donald Davidson was far too impressed by elementary logic and decision theory, I think Willard Quine was a mediocre logician with some philosophical side-interests, I think Daniel Dennett never understood philosophy, I think Michael Dummett was a dimwit outside of his narrow specializations, I think P.F. Strawson struggled to understand much of philosophy, I think Gilbert Ryle was a classicist who wanted philosophy gone by any means necessary, I think Gareth Evans had no philosophical depth, I think John Searle was a philosophical lightweight, I think Jerry Fodor had no idea about philosophy and didn’t care, I think Saul Kripke was a mathematician with a passing interest in certain limited areas of philosophy, I think Hilary Putnam was a scientist-linguist who found philosophy incomprehensible, I think Ludwig Wittgenstein was a philosophical ignoramus too arrogant to learn some history, I think Bertrand Russell was only interested in skepticism, I think Gottlob Frege was a middling mathematician with no other philosophical interests, I think the positivists were well-meaning idiots, I think Edmund Husserl had no interest in anything outside his own consciousness, I think Martin Heidegger and John-Paul Sartre were mainly psychological politicians, I think John Austin was a scientifically illiterate language student, I think Noam Chomsky was neither a professional linguist nor a philosopher nor a psychologist but some sort of uneasy combination, I think the vast majority of current philosophers have no idea what philosophy is about and struggle to come to terms with it, I think philosophy has been a shambles since Descartes, I think Plato and Aristotle were philosophical preschoolers, I think no one has ever really grasped the nature of philosophical problems, I think the human brain is a hotbed of bad philosophy (and that is its great glory).
Here is the link, via The Browser. My honest view is that he is worrying too much about other people, and not enough about issues.
Liberal AI
Can AI be liberal? In what sense? One answer points to the liberal insistence on freedom of choice, understood as a product of the commitment to personal autonomy and individual dignity. Mill and Hayek are of course defining figures here, emphasizing the epistemic foundations for freedom of choice. “Choice Engines,” powered by AI and authorized or required by law, might promote liberal goals (and in the process, produce significant increases in human welfare). A key reason is that they can simultaneously (1) preserve autonomy, (2) respect dignity, and (3) help people to overcome inadequate information and behavioral biases, which can produce internalities, understood as costs that people impose on their future selves, and also externalities, understood as costs that people impose on others. Different consumers care about different things, of course, which is a reason to insist on a high degree of freedom of choice, even in the presence of internalities and externalities. AI-powered Choice Engines can respect that freedom, not least through personalization. Nonetheless, AI-powered Choice Engines might be enlisted by insufficiently informed or self-interested actors, who might exploit inadequate information or behavioral biases, and thus co5mpromise liberal goals. AI-powered Choice Engines might also be deceptive or manipulative, again compromising liberal goals, and legal safeguards are necessary to reduce the relevant risks. Illiberal or antiliberal AI is not merely imaginable; it is in place. Still, liberal AI is not an oxymoron. It could make life less nasty, less brutish, less short, and less hard – and more free.
Optimal timing for superintelligence
There is a new paper by Nick Bostrom with that title:
Developing superintelligence is not like playing Russian roulette; it is more like undergoing risky surgery for a condition that will otherwise prove fatal. We examine optimal timing from a person-affecting stance (and set aside simulation hypotheses and other arcane considerations). Models incorporating safety progress, temporal discounting, quality-of-life differentials, and concave QALY utilities suggest that even high catastrophe probabilities are often worth accepting. Prioritarian weighting further shortens timelines. For many parameter settings, the optimal strategy would involve moving quickly to AGI capability, then pausing briefly before full deployment: swift to harbor, slow to berth. But poorly implemented pauses could do more harm than good.
Via Nabeel.
David Hume update — “model this”
The tomb of the philosopher David Hume and two other memorials at a historic cemetery in Edinburgh have been vandalised with “disturbing occult-style paraphernalia”.
A tour guide made the discovery at the Old Calton burial ground. It included a drawing of a naked woman pointing a bloodied knife at a baby with a noose around its neck, and coded writing on red electrical tape attached to the David Hume mausoleum and two nearby memorial stones.
The guide emailed photographs of the vandalism to Edinburgh council and described the symbols as “satanic”.
A group on Telegram purporting to be responsible for the vandalism of graves at unnamed cemeteries posted photographs of the same damage in a now-deleted channel. They shared examples of other disturbing drawings, including a naked woman grabbing the bloodied head of a baby, to which one member responded: “For EH1?” EH1 is the postcode in Edinburgh covering the historic Old Town.
The group also posted photographs of strange paraphernalia found at the Old Calton burial ground, including nails hammered through red candles, chalked symbols and red tape in which the words “anti meta physical front” were printed.
Here is the story, via Hollis Robbins.
Are the French lazy?
Olivier Blanchard writes:
The French are not lazy. They just enjoy leisure more than most (no irony here)
And this is perfectly fine: As productivity increases, it is perfectly reasonable to take it partly as more leisure (fewer hours per week, earlier retirement age), and only partly in income.
He has follow-up points and clarifications in later posts. For instance:
If somebody, in France, wants to work hard, retire late or not all, and work 50-60 hours a week, it is perfectly possible. (this conclusion is based on introspection). Some of us are blessed with exciting jobs. Most of us unfortunately are not.
Here is JFV on that question. And a response from Olivier. Here is John Cochrane.
Perhaps “lazy” is not the right word for this discussion. I view West Europeans in general as providing good quality work per hour, but wanting to work fewer hours, compared to Americans and also compared to many East Asians. Much of that is due to taxes, noting that tax regimes are endogenous to the mores of a population. (Before the 1970s, West Europeans often worked longer hours, by the way.) So it is not only taxes by any means. Furthermore, many (not all) parts of Europe have superior leisure opportunities, compared to what is available in many (not all) parts of the United States. That seems to me the correct description of the reality, not “lazy,” or “not lazy.”
I would add some additional points. First, the world is sometimes in a (short?) period of local increasing returns. I believe we are in such a period now, as evidenced by China and the United States outperforming much of the rest of the world. Maybe the French cannot do anything to leap to such “large economy margins,” but I am not opposed to saying “there is something wrong” with not much trying. Perhaps lack of ambition at the social level is the concept, rather than laziness. I see only some French people, not too many to be clear, throwing themselves onto the bonfire trying to nudge their societal norms toward more ambition.
Second, although the world is not usually in an increasing returns regime, over the long long run it probably is. We humans can stack General Purpose Technologies, over the centuries and millennia, and get somewhere really splendid in a (long-run) explosive fashion. That is another form of increasing returns, even if you do not see it in the data in most individual decades in most countries.
That also makes me think “there is something wrong” with not much trying. And on that score, France can clearly contribute and to some extent already is contributing through its presence in science, math, bio, etc. The French even came up with an early version of the internet. Nonetheless France could contribute more, and I think it would be preferable if social norms could nudge them more in that direction. I do not see comparable potent externalities from French leisure consumption. Maybe the French could teach America how wonderful trips to France are, and thus induce Americans to work more to afford them, and if that is the dominant effect I am happy once again.
So on the proactive side, it still seems to be France could do better than it does, and social welfare likely would rise as a result. That said, they hardly seem like the worst offender in this regard, though you still might egg them on because they have so much additional high-powered potential.