Thoughts for the Day: 30 June 2021

 

An outstanding & much-needed work: Read it!

The Constitution of Knowledge

Jonathan Rauch

All three of the great liberal social systems—economic, political, epistemic—are traceable to breakthroughs in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. All were pioneered by men who followed each other’s writings and doings and who sometimes knew each other personally. They and their works were flawed with the inequities and blind spots of their eras (one of which is reflected in the fact that all of them were men).

N.B. This book is a new one on the list--and I haven't even finished it yet. But it's a terrific book and one that really goes to the heart of much of our current economic, political, and epistemic malfunctions. Spoiler alert: three of the leading "men" behind "the great liberal systems" are John Locke, Adam Smith, and James Madison, while Socrates/Plato, Montaigne, Francis Bacon, and Charles Sanders Pierce get well-deserved shout-outs also.

Building a Bridge to the 18th Century

Neil Postman

When one has knowledge, one knows how to make sense of information, knows how to relate information to one’s life, and, especially, knows when information is irrelevant.

Metabolical

Robert H. Lustig

Mark Twain said, “Education is mainly what we have unlearned.” Yoda implored, “You must unlearn what you have learned.”

Metabolical

Robert H. Lustig

While cows and sheep are indeed methane producers, the methane emissions from the animals (5 percent) turns out to be a pittance compared to the rest of agriculture (10 percent), and compared to industrial methane production (35 percent) and the transportation industry (50 percent). And the climate change impact of the animals is completely dwarfed by the nitrous oxide production resulting from synthetic fertilizer sprayed on all those plant-based products throughout the Midwest grain belt.

N.B. I believe that these figures are a bit out of sync with the most recent figures in the U.S. Livestock per the EPA accounts for less than 4% of emissions and that includes a 2% contribution from cattle.

The Principles of Art

R. G. Collingwood

If imagination were sufficiently described . . . as a form of experience which presents the real and the unreal in a kind of undistinguished amalgam or solution from which, later, the work of intellect is to precipitate or crystallize the truth, art as imagination would have a genuine and important function in human life; a function analogous to that whereby a scientist envisages the various possible hypotheses which later experiment and observation will enable him to reject or raise to the level of a theory. The business of art, on this view, would be to construct possible worlds, some of which, later on, thought will find real or action will make real.

Age of Anger

Pankaj Mishra

Anarchists were not always responsible for this unprecedented carnage across Europe prior to the First World War, even if it was inspired by anarchist techniques. The violence was aimed at different political ends. But it was inspired by the belief – fundamental to much modern terrorism – that assaults on symbols of political and social order, and the self-sacrifice of individuals, had a propaganda value that far exceeded any immediate political ends.

Age of Anger

Pankaj Mishra

In this ‘monstrous tragi-comic scene’, as Edmund Burke warned, ‘the most opposite passions necessarily succeed, and sometimes mix with each other in the mind; alternate contempt and indignation; alternate laughter and tears; alternate scorn and horror.’

The Way of Zen

Alan W. Watts

Taoism concerns itself with unconventional knowledge, with the understanding of life directly, instead of in the abstract, linear terms of representational thinking.

The Golden Day: A Study in American Literature & Culture by Lewis Mumford

Originally published in 1926 with a new forward by the author in 1957

For the Fourth of July each year I select a work in American history or culture to mark the occasion. This year in a bit of serendipity, I spied this work as I unpacked a box of books that I'd hastily assembled as a part of our move out West. When I pulled this book our of the box on about July 3, I knew that I had my reading for this year.

The Golden Day: A Study in American Literature and Culture was originally published in 1926 by a young Lewis Mumford. Many today won't recognize his name, but from the 1920s to the 1980s, he was one of America's leading public intellectuals. (He died at age 94 in 1990.) In fact, to describe Mumford is to encounter a quandary. How exactly to describe him? In The Golden Day, he's a literary critic and historian of American literature, but these fields are only two of the many fields that he wrote about. Wikipedia describes Mumford as "an American historian, sociologist, philosopher of technology, and literary critic. Particularly noted for his study of cities and urban architecture, he had a broad career as a writer. Mumford made signal contributions to social philosophy, American literary and cultural history and the history of technology."  This comes closer, but the breadth of Mumford's interests and knowledge is truly astonishing. And, I should note, he published all of his many books without having finished his college degree! (His education was interrupted by illness and then service in World War I.) 

In The Golden Day, Mumford focuses on American literature and philosophical thought as a way of apprehending the American experiment. Mumford's contemporary and compatriot, Van Wyck Brooks, was working much the same project at the time, as well.) In fact, as a part of his project, Mumford played a major role in delivering Herman Melville's literary works--such as Moby Dick--from the obscurity into which these works had fallen. Melville and his pre-Civil War contemporaries provide the foundation of this work. But while Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman, Melville, and Hawthorne provide the foundation of the work--the Golden Day--this isn't where Mumford begins his assessment of American culture. Mumford begins his examination with the advent of modernity, which coincided with the European discovery and colonization of the Americas. Protestantism (especially the Puritan variety at the beginning and evangelical Christianity later), capitalism, and later industrialism, along with the existence of the frontier until late into the 19th-century,  all shape American culture. But until the Golden Day, the literature of a nascent nation was not especially noteworthy (with some exceptions, such as the last great Puritan divine, Jonathan Edwards). But starting with James Fenimore Cooper's work exploring the early (eastern) frontier and its challenges and conflicts his works explored, we begin to see American literature form into more familiar themes. This momentum gains a full head of steam with Emerson, whom Mumford holds in the highest regard. Indeed, although I don't believe that he stated it specifically, I contend that Mumford considers Emerson the foundation stone of American literature and high culture. 

Of course, in the pre-Civil War era, Emerson was not alone. His younger contemporary and friend  Henry David Thoreau was an active and outspoken voice, as was the great bard of democracy and America, Walt Whitman. Rounding out this core is Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne, who's most famous for The Scarlett Letter.  (As I noted earlier, Melville's work had fallen into obscurity by Mumford's time, and Melville had never gained the esteem and notoriety of his great contemporaries described here.) Mumford carefully considers each writer's contributions and perspectives. And I should hasten to add that in addition to cataloging and noting the contribution of each of these figures, Mumford also provides insightful criticism. He not only provides a tour of the wine cellar and catalogues the various vintages, but he beautifully describes and critiques them as well.

The Civil War provides the key turning point in the life of the nation. The vanquishing of the slave-holding South and the triumph of the North with its industrialism, along with the settlement of the Mountain West, turn America in a different direction. Mumford perhaps under-appreciates or under-emphasizes the economics of both the plantation system of the South and its effects on the American scene even after the defeat of the Confederacy. But he does turn a keen eye on the post-war North and its cultural heritage. Here, at the center, is Mark Twain. But other figures, less recognized today, such as William Dean Howells, were also at work, and Emerson, Whitman, and Melville, all remained active for a time after the War. After Twain, the next great figure Mumford explores in some depth isn't a novelist or a poet, but the philosopher-psychologist William James. (Mumford give short shrift to William's famous novelist brother, Henry James.) William James, while not a poet, is nevertheless a gifted essayist and one of the fathers the uniquely American philosophy of pragmatism (along with the brilliant but eccentric Charles Saunders Pierce and the more prosaic John Dewey). Moving forward to the time of his writing, Mumford notes the importance (and limitations) of John Dewey, who was growing in stature and would attain an especially high status in the era between the wars as a public intellectual. (Mumford wryly notes that Dewey's prose is like taking the subway: it gets you where you need to go, but the trip isn't very scenic.) 

One should be sure to read the new Introduction to the work that Mumford wrote in 1957,  Mumford not only critiques the work of others, but he's also instructive in critiquing himself. For instance, he rues having mostly (or completely?) ignored Emily Dickinson, and he says he'd treat Melville and William James differently. And, perhaps most noteworthy, he would have treated Henry Adams differently. By 1957, Mumford appreciates Adams as the prophet of the disintegration of Western Civilization as well as prophet of the machine age (something that Mumford undertook as well). 

As a way to celebrate our nation in this fraught time, this book was a perfect fit. Mumford doesn't hide warts and deformities, but he nevertheless appreciates the American experience with a depth of perception that few can match. As we who live in a new Gilded Age and in an era of disintegration, the experiences and models of the past take on a new importance, and Lewis Mumford provides us with excellent guidance as we seek to mine the past to gain our bearings and help us set our course. 

The Future Ain’t What It Used to Be

The Master: John Maynard Keynes

Niall Ferguson, a Scot @ Harvard

Robert "Baron" Skidelsky

A short while ago I wrote about Jeff Sachs’s criticisms of Paul Krugman on fiscal stimulus. Since then, in an intellectual volley worthy of a Wimbledon final (all Brit, no less) pits Niall Ferguson on behalf of Cameron-Osborne austerity against Robert Skidelsky representing proponents of Keynesian stimulus. The two have squired off at in order: Ferguson 1, Skidelsky May 19, Ferguson May 19, Skidelsky May 28,  Ferguson June 1 ). As I set forth in my Sachs-Krugman post, I’m more persuaded by the Keynesian position. Following Ferguson, I agree that Keynes indeed was an austerian when austerity was appropriate (around the wars). But a Keynes quote cited by Ferguson—hoping to hoist Keynes biographer Skidelsky on his own petard—captured my attention. Ferguson writes, quoting Keynes: 

Responding to some early critics of his General Theory, Keynes showed that he recognized the importance of uncertainty in economic life, and consequently the difficulty of making predictions. “The whole object of the accumulation of wealth,” he wrote, “is to produce results, or potential results, at a comparatively distant, and sometimes at an indefinitely distant, date.” 

But, Keynes continued, “our knowledge of the future is fluctuating, vague, and uncertain.” There are simply too many things – from the “prospect of a European war” to the “price of copper and the interest rate 20 years hence” – about which “there is no scientific basis on which to form any calculable probability whatever.” 

 http://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/keynes-skidelsky-british-austerity-by-niall-ferguson-2015-06#sSe9twJASCsTRTxL.99

Ferguson doesn’t mention it, but Keynes wrote about probability and uncertainty in his A Treatise on Probability. Keynes was a complex and deep thinker, perhaps muddled? Did he contradict himself by writing the above about uncertainty while (at times) recommending active government intervention in the economy by way of fiscal stimulus? I think not. And this brings us to the crux of my concern. 

While Keynes at times recommended stimulus and at other times austerity, there is no reason to believe that his appreciation of the uncertainty about the future and the consequences of any current course of action upon the future changed with his policy recommendations. Yet even in the face of acknowledged uncertainty, he acted. He chose (or recommended) courses actions that he believed would most likely bring about a desired result. Was he certain of either cause or effect? No, but as any decision-maker, he was confronted with choices to spend or not to spend, to provide only one example. He or any policymaker could, of course, chose to do nothing, but barring ignorance or negligent indifference, that too is a choice. So with any economic decision. We don’t very often have the luxury of knowing for certain that our choices will bring about the results that we intend. That’s been the downfall of many an economic prediction. Thus, when we make economic decisions, we have (but do not necessarily know) a range of probabilities that our choice will bring about a desired effect, much like a weather forecast (“a 50% chance of rain today”). If we cut the price of our widgets, we’ll probably sell more. Probably. If we invest in Acme Corporation, we may make money, or we may find out that the market for widgets has collapsed, and with it our investment. Only rarely can we act with a sense of certainty, especially in a complex system like the economy.

I think that wise decision-makers put faith—and money—on the soundness of the decision-making process and not on theories about results. Repeated experience is the best guide, but it’s often only available by analogy. History can provide many lessons, but it’s easy to apply the wrong lesson to a problem. And history never—exactly—repeats itself. (“History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme”—attributed to Mark Twain.) We judge by analogies. Humans, societies, governments, and economies: all are complex organisms that defy consistent mechanical interpretation and manipulation. Human culture mutates too quickly to pin too much certainty on a mechanical prediction of action. We can gain some insight into behavior demonstrated by large numbers, but even that method is subject to change. 

So when Ferguson says to Skidelsky and Krugman that you can’t prove  that the British economy would have performed better with a fiscal stimulus instead of austerity, he’s correct in a limited but inconsequential sense. Ferguson is talking about an alternate course of history, a counter-factual, as Ferguson has used and practiced the concept. (See his Virtual History, a book of counter-factual essays that he edited and contributed to.) The only path we know with (some) certainty is the path taken—and even then the contours of that path are hard to discern, as the Ferguson-Skidelsky war of stats shows. 

The NYT recently published a feature on Paul Ehrlich’s The Population Bomb that predicted social and economic collapse with rising population within a decade or so of its publication. It didn’t happen. Ehrlich was wrong—but how wrong? Is Ehrlich wrong because there are no limits to the carrying capacity of Earth to support any human population? I don’t suspect many knowledgeable people will support this conclusion. If so, at some point, over-population could trigger a catastrophic decline in human well-being. (If you don’t believe that an over-stressed environment could lead to civilizational collapse, then you should brush up on your Diamond (here under Social Science and here via Stephen Walt), Tainter, Homer-Dixon (here and here), Ophuls, Mark Buchanan,  and Ferguson*, for starters.) We can conclude that Ehrlich’s initial predictions were inaccurate, but we can’t conclude that his basic premise (limits to human population) is unfounded. 

This leads us to territory explored by Nassim N. Taleb, who has argued along lines I believe appropriate. Because we don’t know the magnitude or probability of some risks, we should not take the risks. That is to say, we are in a territory marked by uncertainty, no probability. We should not run some experiments where, if the experiment turns out badly, N=1 because we are no longer able to repeat the experiment. For instance, how much do we want to experiment with nuclear war? How many times could humanity run a nuclear war experiment?  Taleb argues that genetically modified foods and human-caused global warming should be addressed with the acknowledgement that we don’t know with any real certainty the potential consequences or the likelihood of a catastrophic (or slow motion) event. Without referring to it directly, Taleb seems to follow a negligence theory that judges behavior by the magnitude of the risk of harm (perhaps measurable, probably not) times the likelihood of the occurrence of the risk (perhaps measurable, probably not) to decide whether a particular course of action should be undertaken. (Taleb would add “skin the game” as well: consequences if the wrong choice is made. But in some of our examples, we’d all suffer the consequences.) The difference of course from a court of law (one of many) is that this formula can be applied to judge what action to take (or not) prospectively to avoid loss instead of using it to apportion loss retroactively. (I’ve written more on this general topic in this earlier blog post, “Thinking Like a Lawyer and Antifragility”.)

In both economics and population predictions, the other wild card variable is human action, which is responsive and strategic. Did Paul Ehrlich’s cry of wolf affect the wolf and not just the villagers? (And this assumes that population is not a problem; based on personal observation from living almost three years in India and China, I’m not willing to concede that population density doesn’t remain a crucial challenge.) Does the possibility of stimulus or austerity change the calculations of innumerable economic decisions? Certainly, and you can observe that most easily in markets. But what you see may surprise you and upset your expectations, for instance, some—like Ferguson—have not seen the high interest rates and inflation that they predicted with lose monetary policy from the Fed and a bit of fiscal stimulus. Even the common benchmarks can fail. Krugman, on the other hand, has called it right on the inflation issue.

So what are we left with? Educated guesses, uncertainty, caution, and a need for resilience when things don’t turn out as we hoped. The public dialogue can at its peril ignore risks and probabilities, but we do so to our detriment. We should specify our judgments about likelihoods of benefits and harms and our standards of proof. Voters, unlike jurors, get a second bite at the apple, and we should keep a track record of those who seek to guide and lead the public. And decision-makers and those who advise them would do well to become more sophisticated in this perspective. Our future depends upon it.

*This article by Ferguson displays a lot about Ferguson. The first part draws upon a deep ground of historical knowledge and sheds light on  the phenomena of collapse by applying current thinking about complexity. Thus, as Ferguson argues, “declines” are less dangerous than precipitous “falls”. In a complex system, including financial systems, a system can collapse very quickly, or as Ferguson’s felicitous prose describes it, there can be a “sudden shift from a good equilibrium to a bad mess”. Financial collapses and regime changes, such as the French Revolution, Ming China, the fall of the Hapsburg and Ottoman Empires, and the disintegration of the Soviet Union, happened quickly and to widespread surprise. Although Ferguson doesn’t make the point, such examples should provide some measure of humility in making predictions. However, he goes on to suggest that the Obama Administration and the Fed in spending and printing money might trigger a financial collapse (this was published in 2010). His forecast is vague but ominous. Once again, Ferguson the historian gets sidetracked by Ferguson the political hack. But I must say overall, the article is well argued and perceptive when it sticks to history and avoids forecasting.