Thursday, July 7, 2016

The Fog of Confusion

I live in a fog of confusion. I don’t know, I can’t know, everything about a topic before I speak. And yet I speak anyway. I find that expressing my viewpoint brings me into contact with the viewpoints most important for me to hear.

In order to speak, I must at some point accept my imperfection, accept ignorance, accept certain shame that I was not more diligent before speaking. This is the fastest way for me to learn what I do not know.

In the programming world, there is a saying “RTFM”: “Read the Fucking Manual”. It means that you should do your own research and attempt to answer your own questions before asking others.

But in life wisdom, in politics, in society, what is the manual? It is impossible to RTFM. Let us be ignorant together and have compassion for each others’ ignorance.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Liberty in the Reputation Economy

Libertarianism is a perfectly fine ideology, one crafted with loving care. It’s joints are bound together with impressive internal consistency, it boasts a number of high-status followers, and its long heritage lends it gravitas like an Elizabethan clock.

But it’s old. The world has changed. Our needs have changed. Who needs a hand-wound clock the size of a cabinet when we’ve got digital watches that read tweets to us?

Sadly, the piece that’s most showing its age is the very core of the system - the Non-Aggression Principle (NAP). For the benefit of the uninitiated, the NAP is the central feature of libertarian moral and legal reasoning. It states that it’s wrong to harm another person’s body or property through force or fraud. A prohibition against “force or fraud” is pretty much the whole of the libertarian law. Otherwise do what thou will.

Not all libertarianisms are NAP fundamentalists, but all of them are influenced by the NAP. I believe the NAP is a great start for a good society. Safety from violence makes possible the exploration of many different kinds of social arrangements - commercial and noncommercial. The NAP or some approximation to it is essential for human flourishing.

Once upon a time, when the economy was made up almost exclusively of physical goods, the NAP was almost a sufficient legal code for a good society. But now it feels incomplete. There’s a hole in the ideal legal code where something more is needed. If the word “libertarianism” needs to remain as a static pointer to NAP-based philosophies for reasons of historical legibility, then I recommend upgrading your label to something else - “post-libertarian” perhaps.

Where does this hole come from? We live in the age of the reputation economy. Much of what we value is not physical and we are vulnerable to harm from non-physical means. Our reputations are among the most valuable capital we possess, and they are online, global, permanent, and auditable by anyone we encounter.

And these reputations are vulnerable. An assault on our reputation can be devastating without doing anything that qualifies as “force or fraud” under the NAP. The target of a social media mob can lose their job, reputation, funding, and social connections. Attempted assaults succeed and fail without much regard for whether they are justified or not. They are semi-random acts of destruction.

I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be mugged than suffer a reputation assassination. A twitter mob can do much more psychological and financial damage to me than a street tough that takes my wallet and iphone. Even the physical toll can be higher, as some victims of online mobs are bullied into suicidal ideation.

The job of the State is to maintain a monopoly on violence. An ideal libertarian state will use this monopoly to enforce the NAP (how to create such an ideal state is an exercise left to the reader). When the State loses its monopoly on violence things of value are lost. People come together in groups of armed bandits. Social trust disappears and commerce dries up. A society ruled by a violence monopolist is much nicer than a society ruled by a thousand petty tyrants.

“A thousand petty tyrants” exactly describes the state of the reputation economy. Social media is an anarchy, a wild-west.

Gawker media was one such petty tyrant. It has made a business out of shaming, outing, and attacking people. Founder Nick Denton’s plan to make millions of ad dollars is right there in the business name: people are drawn to gawking at the pain of others, so report on that. If there isn’t enough pain in the world, create more of it.

The Non-Aggression Principle offers no basis from which to criticize Gawker. I’ve seen a few self-styled libertarians defending its actions. Sure, sometimes it publishes outright lies, e.g. by accusing celebrities of rape. But a lot of what it prints is true. A video of a person being raped is fact. Outing a gay person is reporting fact. Sharing a non-consensual sex tape is fact. But it’s still incredibly damaging.

There is a way out of this dilemma. First we note that not all anarchies are the same. Social norms against violence can make them relatively safe and productive environments. In the American old west, the nearest law enforcement official was often far away and most people were armed. But violence was relatively rare. In the absence of formal law, a network of informal agreements and cultural norms made it unprofitable to be a violent thug.

In the analogy of the Wild West, Gawker media is like a drunk gunman opening fire indiscriminately in a saloon. They’ve hurt a lot of people - some powerful, some not, and seldom for a good reason. For the good of everyone, and to set an example, they needed to suffer some consequences.

Fortunately, the formal law recognized a right to privacy which allowed Hulk Hogan to successfully sue Gawker media. The reputation economy isn’t quite the Wild West. This isn’t enforced much of the time, but high profile verdicts like the Gawker case might encourage some to play nice.

In the absence of formal law, group norms that limit aggression would make society a better place. Reputation assassination is a kind of power and power competitions without rules are a recipe for scorched-earth conflict.

Not all reputational attack is bad. Sometimes it is justified. But it shouldn’t be without cost - that's a recipe for an internet overrun by sadistic trolls who get their lulz out of attacking people. If there were some risk of a cultural backlash against people who are too enthusiastic about attacking others, we would all be more safe.

The principle I suggest for determining whether or not an attack is justified is probably something like a right to privacy. Privacy is a fundamental plank of liberty, as enshrined in the fourth amendment to the US Constitution.

The legal philosophy demonstrated embedded in the Fourth Amendment is incredibly pro-liberty. It protects a sphere of private action from government surveillance. This renders overly intrusive laws as unenforceable. The state can ban, mandate, and regulate whatever activity they like. But if that activity doesn’t impact the public sphere in some way, there is no way for the state to know it is happening.

Privacy allows the evolution of civil society outside the watchful eye of the state. Every activity which was ever decriminalized happened because a culture of its practice grew in private. Without privacy, the state could reach 100% enforcement and bans against alcohol, marijuana, or sodomy likely wouldn't have been overturned.

Most libertarians support the Fourth Amendment. But the Fourth Amendment only protects us from the government. A good society also demands privacy protection from the multitudinous warlords of social media.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

A declaration concerning my relationship to human society

I claim the right to be here. I claim the right to participate fully.

I claim these rights by my common humanity. I claim them by the blood of my ancestors, which flowed to America through Europe, and before that through Africa, the birthplace of humanity, and which ultimately originated in the oceans, the womb of the Earth.

It is my duty to be fully me for the good of all beings. It is my duty to dare, to hold nothing back, and to accept the pain of my personal evolution.

From time to time, other people will object to my activity on the basis that it hurts them. I am sorry for their suffering. I am sorry for a world where growth is neither isolated nor painless, and where only collective evolution is possible. I pledge that I will spread more growth and less hurt as my consciousness rises and I become aware of more opportunities to do so.

But despite the costs, I cannot pull back or pretend to be less than I am. For it is my mission to be the blessing to the world that I was born to be. In my fullness and yours, I promise you, we will all rejoice.


Friday, March 4, 2016

A Waldening Retrospective

In January I went waldening for two months - my girlfriend and I packed up our bags and moved out of San Francisco and into a small house in the woods of Gasquet, CA. You can read my original post here and read about my theory behind waldening here.

Our primary goal was to gain some outside perspective on our San Francisco lives. We accomplished this, but it wasn’t easy. At first I looked forward to our time away as an opportunity to be more productive while I was free of social obligations. We read Cal Newport’s book “Deep Work” and began to put into practice its suggestions for getting more serious productivity out of ourselves.

But this didn’t work. Cal Newport’s advice is great for someone that knows what they want to accomplish and needs to focus all their effort on it. I am struggling with a very different problem - figuring out what it is that I should be spending my life on. Trying to focus deeply on my writing or anything else didn’t work because I’m not convinced that that is the thing for me to do.

After about a month I shook the mindset of the cult of productivity. I changed my focus to getting to know myself and to pursuing the unique opportunities that Gasquet offered instead. Both my girlfriend and I were surprised by how much there is to do in a small town in the woods. Gasquet wasn’t just not San Francisco - it has its own personality.

It was these local activities that I found the most fulfilling. We started making woodcraft and my girlfriend opened up an etsy store to sell them. We collected thousands of wild mushrooms - yellowfoot Chanterelles and hedgehogs popped up like weeds in the woods behind our house. I invented a new workout routine on the nearby beach that I call “Beachfit” which involves lifting a lot of driftwood logs and stones. And we took advantage of having some space to ourselves to throw art parties for the two of us.

When we got outside the house we encountered a different culture from what we are used to in the city. Everybody knew everybody else, and everybody takes the time to chat. We met a few guys at the local woodcarving shop and would stop in for a conversation each time we walked by. They filled us in with valuable information about the area and helped us out when we needed someone to watch our cat. We even learned a bit of woodworking from one of them. The friendliness reminded me a little bit of Burning Man.

Some of the people we met seemed cheerful with very simple careers, such as our grocery store cashier who had worked the same job for 20 years. Perhaps she was cheerful in part because a person could earn a decent living in that area on a cashier’s wage. And for us, used to rating our self-worth by the ambition of our careers, it was nice to meet people we liked living by another set of values. I think it will help us relax a bit.

I chose to undertake a big personal odyssey at the start of our time in Gasquet by breaking my addiction to caffeine. It’s an incredibly common drug addiction in my SF social circle, but there were two reasons that I wanted to drop it. First, I wasn’t sure if I could - I had been a daily coffee drinker for more than half my life. I picked up the habit 16 years ago in high school.

Second, I didn’t like how I used coffee to manage social perceptions of myself. It made me bright, energetic, interesting and interested but I thought I was none of those things without it. I constantly worried over my caffeine level - if it was too low and the time was too late in the day to drink more coffee, I might skip a social event altogether. My reasoning is that I would rather make no impression than a bad impression.

I want to confront my need to manage others’ perception of me and ultimately live a less strategic life. To do this I need to clear out all the padding and barriers I put between the world and my true self. Caffeine was one of these. It had to go.

I decided to kick the habit cold turkey. My imagination didn’t comprehend how miserable the withdrawal symptoms could be. For 25 days I sat in a stew of lethargy and headache. Little interested me. I reread Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun series but my eyes had a hard time focusing on the words. Often I glazed over paragraphs without understanding them and would have to go back to read them again.

The silliness and energy that I'm known for was gone. After several weeks of caffeine withdrawals, I was scared that they might not come back. The internet will tell you that caffeine withdrawals are supposed to last for only a handful of days, maybe a week at most. My brain had grown around this foreign chemical for 16 years, maybe I would never be normal without it? Many times I doubted myself and seriously considered cheating by having a caffeinated tea.

The first sign that the withdrawals would end and that I would be normal again happened after about 25 days when there was music playing and I felt like dancing. Some peppy energy was moving through my body, and I felt happy. It was the first time that I felt any joy in a month. After that I was able to be interested, excited, and happy without the need of caffeine.

Whatever else happened in Gasquet, I can count on kicking the caffeine habit as a success. The house in the woods was my own little rehab center. I would have never been able to let myself suffer that deeply and that long in San Francisco where I have a life to maintain.

So in addition to a new mindset, I return to San Francisco with a new brain on a biochemical level.

Coming back to the city I felt a mild dread. I miss having space - even unpacking my bathroom items into ample cabinet space in Gasquet felt like luxury. In San Francisco folding my life into a tiny space is a daily source of mild stress.

But I’m also excited about the possibilities that are available now that I’m back. Many of my master plans for how I will eventually make money doing the kinds of things I like can only be supported by a liberal city culture. The woods was a place to get to know myself, the city is a place to connect with other people. If I learned one thing while waldening, it's to enjoy the place where I find myself instead of wishing for the possibilities I would have if I were somewhere else.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Waldening Theory

see the first post explaining the concept of "waldening" here

The motivation behind waldening concerns free will. Humans appear to have the ability to choose how they act. But we understand the world through concepts given to us by culture. So it ends up that we have the freedom to choose between all the paths that our culture allows in pursuit of things that our culture tells us to value. This is a weak kind of freedom. Culture can’t be escaped. There is no such thing as seeing the world how it “really” is, without the interference of culture. Maybe babies do it, but continuing beyond a the age of a few months would require you to go full Romulus and get raised by wolves. After all, language itself is a cultural artifact. Perfect freedom isn’t possible or desirable. But more freedom is possible. Living in a new culture for a time can give us perspective on our home culture. We realize that things could be otherwise and no longer take things for granted. The more perspectives we gather, the more alternatives we can imagine. 

Wednesday, January 13, 2016


If you go looking for me in the San Francisco Bay Area you won’t find me. At least not until March. I left the Bay for a long but temporary vacation to the woods of the northernmost part of California, in the Smith River area. Each morning I look out my window to the sight of tree covered hills haunted with ghosts made of fog. The world is cold, wet, and green.

My girlfriend and cat are with me. When there is a break in the rain, my girlfriend and I are discovering the joy of local activities such as foraging for wild mushrooms, mostly yellowfoot chanterelles.

I told a friend in San Francisco about this trip and she said it reminded her of Walden. I guess it is like Walden, if Walden had wifi, electricity, and a cat. But relative to San Francisco it is Walden. We even have a little pond in the front yard.

The point of this trip was to get some perspective on our hectic Silicon Valley lives. That place thrives on discontent. The millionaires want to be billionaires - and the billionaires want to fly to Mars.

That discontent drives plenty of invention. New founders dream of ways to make things better than they are. But it’s also the source of a lot of psychological and physical sickness.

I can’t say I’m rebelling against those values. Rather, I took them to heart too well. I’m discontent with the Silicon Valley way of life. I’d like to find something better.

I want to hear my own thoughts again. It's hard to know what I want when so many other people around me have strong ideas about what I should want. I want to challenge the feeling that I have that nothing I do is enough unless I'm giving every waking moment to some moonshot project.

Every place has its own set of values that it teaches. Rural areas teach a way of life that’s slow and easy. The cortisol drains from the system and the attention span starts to grow. I need that.

So I’m going to let my brain marinate in the forest life for awhile - filled with friendly neighbors, green smells, and wild mushrooms.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

The Girl and the Flamingo

For Pamela

Once upon a time there lived a little girl who loved to dance. She lived in a village beside a tropical rain forest. Each morning just after the sunrise and before it was time to do her chores, she walked into the deep green forest. She walked until she came to a big circle field shimmering in the golden rays of the early morning sun.

In the middle of the field she stood silently with her eyes closed and her arms above her head. For a minute all was still. And then she began to dance.

First she danced slowly, her arms swaying like tree branches in a gentle breeze. Her movements grew bigger and soon she was swirling and shuffling around the circle. She moved with freedom and playfulness, with beauty and grace. She danced all the ways she had learned from the forest. She twisted like a river, she splashed like the rain. She flapped like a bird and slithered like a snake.

The animals of the forest loved to watch her dance. The mouse lived closest to the field and he noticed first when she began to dance. The mouse told the toucan, the toucan told the jaguar, the jaguar told the snake, and the snake told the monkey. Soon all the animals of the forest were gathered around the edge of the circle to watch the girl. When she danced fast the animals would clap and hoot and stomp to make a rhythm for her dance. When she danced slow they would sway side-to-side in a silent trance.

But there was one animal that never came to the dance. The flamingo. He stood on one leg  in the shallow part of a river not far away, feeling lonely and covering his head with his bright pink wing.

In days gone bye, all the animals used to watch him dance on his long, elegant orange legs. But since the girl started dancing nobody came to watch him dance anymore. He became increasingly unhappy while dancing on his own with never more than a few passing insects to appreciate his performance. Soon he stopped dancing at all.

One morning he was brooding over his unlucky fate when he decided to take action. He came up with a plan to win back the love of the forest animals that he felt he deserved.

That day while the girl was still in the forest, the flamingo crept silently into the village. He climbed through the window to the girl’s bedroom and stole one of her dresses. Then he found a broom standing against a wall and he stole all the fibers from the end to make a wig.

Early the next morning, while the sun was still sleeping, he went back to the village and hung up a blanket over the girl’s bedroom window. He knew that she woke with the sun. If a blanket blocked the sunrise then she would sleep late, right past her normal dance time.

The flamingo put on his disguise to impersonate the little girl - the dress he had taken from the girl and the wig he had made from the fibers of a broom. He walked into the forest along the girl’s normal path to the circle field. And there, in the middle of the field, he began to dance.

Following their normal routine, all the animals came to watch the morning dance. But soon they realized something was wrong. The little girl’s legs were skinnier than normal. And her beak was bigger than normal. And the way she moved was all wrong. The monkey broke the silence, shouting “That’s not the girl! It’s the flamingo. Look at how funny he looks in that disguise.” All the animals saw it and began to laugh.

The flamingo was so embarrassed that he turned redder than normal. He stumbled out of the clearing and ran and ran. Eventually he got tired of running and hid himself beneath a bush. There he cried.

The girl missed her dancing that morning because she slept an hour later and had to do her chores as soon as she woke. She was puzzled that she had woken so late and that there was a blanket over her bedroom window. She wondered about her missing dress and the missing fibers of her broom.

Later that day she decided to skip lunch and go dance in the forest to make up for the dance she missed. She knew that the animals might not come watch her at this unusual time of day, but she loved to dance even without an audience.

On her way through the forest she heard a loud sobbing sound. She stopped and saw the flamingo crying under a bush. There were her missing dress and her missing broom, torn and tattered and worn by the flamingo. The strange sight startled her for a second. But soon all other thoughts were pushed aside by concern for the crying bird.

“Dear flamingo, why are you crying”? she said.

The flamingo looked up and saw the very girl that was the source of his problems. When he heard her concern for him he started crying even harder.

“Since you started dancing,” he said with heaving breaths, “nobody comes to watch me dance anymore.”

The girl picked a leaf to mop up his tears and then handed it to him so he could wipe his runny nose.

“So I made a disguise to look like you so the animals would come watch me dance again. But my costume didn’t fool them and everybody just laughed at me. Buuaaaa Haaaa Haaaa…” he bellowed.

Seeing the flamingo’s tears, her own eyes began to fill with water. She put her hand on top of the flamingos ridiculous wig.

“Flamingo”, she said with a shaky voice, “I’m sorry I hurt you. When I was a little girl I saw you dance and it was so beautiful. You are the one that introduced me to dancing. Without you, I would have never have discovered how much I love to dance!”

The flamingo heard this and his tears stopped. He felt warm inside and proud. “Really?”, he said.

“Yes”, she said, “Would you like to come dance with me?”.

He nodded his head and got up from under the bush. He removed his costume and followed her to the circle field.

And there they danced together. At first she copied the slow graceful movements of the flamingo. Then he chased her swirling and shuffling around the circle. They took turns leading and following. They danced all the dances of the forest, and some new ones that had never been danced before.

Nobody came to watch them. But when they finished, breathless, they hugged each other and agreed that it was the most fun that they ever had.

Each morning afterwards the girl and the flamingo met outside her village. They walked together to the circle field and stood in the middle. Slowly at first, they began to dance. The mouse always noticed first. The mouse told the toucan, the toucan told the jaguar, the jaguar told the snake, and the snake told the monkey. All the animals of the forest came to watch them.
And together the girl and the flamingo made the most beautiful dances that the forest had ever seen.