Advice, Literature

Six Steps to a Daily Writing Habit

I identify so strongly as a person who writes daily that I sometimes find myself bowled over by the fact that I haven’t always done it.

Since my first attempt to write a novel (at age 13), I’ve known that I really enjoy writing. The problem was that I could never really get myself to write. I managed the occasional short story for a contest and I pulled off NaNoWriMo when I was 20, but even after that, writing remained something that happened almost at random. Even when I had something I really wanted to write it was a toss-up as to whether I would be able to sit down and get it on a page.

This continued for a while. Up until January 1st, 2015, I had written maybe 100,000 words. Since then, I’ve written something like 650,000. If your first million words suck – as is commonly claimed – then I’m ¾ of the way to writing non-sucking words.

What changed in 2015? I made a New Year’s Resolution to write more. And then, when that began to fall apart a few months later (as almost all New Year’s Resolutions do), I sought out better commitment devices.

Did you read my first paragraph and feel like it describes you? Do you want to stop trying to write and start actually writing? If your brain works like mine, you can use what I’ve learned to skip over (some of) the failing part and go right to the writing every single day part [1].

Step 1: Cultivate Love

I like having completed writing projects to show off as much as the next person, but I also enjoy the act of writing. If you don’t actually enjoy writing, you may have a problem. My techniques are designed to help people (like me) who genuinely enjoy writing once they get going but have trouble forcing themselves to even start.

If you find writing to be a grim chore, but want to enjoy writing so that you can have the social or financial benefits (heh) of writing, then it will be much harder for you to write regularly. If you aren’t sure if this describes you or not, pause and ask yourself: would writing every day still be worth it if no one ever read what I wrote and I never made a single cent off of it? There’s nothing wrong with preferring that people read what you write and preferring to make money off of writing if possible, but it is very helpful if you’re willing to write even without external validation.

Writing (at least partially) for the sake of writing means that you won’t become discouraged if your writing never “takes off”. Almost no one sees success (measured in book deals, blog traffic, or Amazon downloads) right away. So being able to keep going in the face of the world’s utter indifference is a key determinant of how robust your writing habit will be.

If you don’t like writing for its own sake, don’t despair completely. It’s possible you might come to love it if you spend more time on it. As you start to write regularly, try out lots of things and figure out what you like and dislike. It can be hard to tell the difference between not liking writing and not liking the types of writing you’ve done.

For example, I’m a really exploratory writer. I’ve found that I don’t enjoy writing if there’s a strict outline I’m trying to follow or if I’m constrained by something someone else has written. Fanfiction is one of the common ways that new writers develop their skills, but I really dislike writing fanfiction. Realizing this has allowed me to avoid a bunch of writing that I’d find tedious. Tedious writing is a big risk to your ability to write daily, so if you can reasonably avoid it, you should.

Step 2: Start Small

When learning a new skill or acquiring a new habit, it’s really tempting to try and dive right in and do everything at once. I’d like to strongly discourage this sort of thing. If you get overwhelmed right at the start you’re unlikely to keep with it. Sometimes jumping right into the deep end teaches you to swim, sure. But sometimes you drown. Or develop a fear of water.

It isn’t enough to set things up so that you’ll be fine if everything goes as planned. A good starting level is something that won’t be hard even if life gets in the way. Is your starting goal achievable even if you had to work overtime for the next two weeks? If not, consider toning it down a bit.

You should set a measurable, achievable, and atomic goal. In practice, measurable means numeric, so I’d recommend committing to a specific number of words each day or a specific amount of daily time writing. Here Beeminder will be your best friend [2].

Beeminder is a service that helps you bind your future self to your current goals. You set up a goal (like writing 100,000 words) and a desired daily progress (say, 200 words each day) towards that goal. Each day, Beeminder will make sure you’ve made enough progress towards your desired end-state. If you haven’t, Beeminder charges your credit card (you can choose to pay anywhere from $5 to $2430). Fail again and it charges you more (up to a point; you can set your own maximum). In this way, Beeminder can “sting” you into completing your goals.

For the first few months of my writing habit, I tracked my daily words in a notebook. This fell apart during my final exams. I brought in Beeminder at the start of the next month to salvage the habit and it worked like a charm. Beeminder provided me a daily kick in the pants to get writing; it made me unlikely to skip writing out of laziness, tiredness, or lack of a good idea.

Beeminder only works for numeric goals, so there’s the first of the triad I mentioned covered.

Next, your goal should be achievable; something you have no doubt you can do. Not something some idealized, better, or perfect version of you could do. Something you, with all your constraints and flaws are sure you can achieve. Don’t worry about making this too small. Fifty or one hundred words per day is a perfectly adequate starter goal.

Lastly, atomic. Atomic goals can’t be broken down any further. Don’t start by Beeminding blog posts or gods forfend, novels! Pick the smallest unit of writing you can, probably either time or word count, and make your goal about this. When you’re Beeminding words or time, you can’t fail and get discouraged for lack of ideas or “writer’s block” [3]. It’s much better to spend a week writing detailed journals of every day (or even a detailed description of your bedroom) than it is to spend a week not writing because you can’t think of what to write.

My recommended starter goals are either: write 150 words each day or write 15 minutes each day. Both of these are easy to Beeminder and should be easy for most people to achieve.

Step 3: Acquire Confidence

Even with goals that easy, your first few days or weeks may very well be spent just barely meeting them, perhaps as Beeminder breaths down your neck. Writing is like exercise. It’s surprising how hard it can be to do it every day if you’re starting from nothing.

Here’s the start of my very first Beeminder writing goal. You’ll notice that I started slowly, panicked and wrote a lot, then ran into trouble and realized that I needed to tone things down a bit. It wasn’t until almost four months in that I finally hit my stride and started to regularly exceed my goal.

Dip below the yellow and orange line and you pay up. Green data points mean I had at least three safe days before paying Beeminder. Blue data points are two days. Orange is one.

You can see a similar pattern when I started Beeminding fiction:

The trouble at the beginning is growing pains. The trouble around the end of October came from dropping out of graduate school, moving back home, and beginning a job search.

And when I started Beeminding time spent writing:

Those little spurs three data points into the time graph and seven into the fiction one? That’s where I failed to keep up and ended up giving Beeminder money. They call this “derailing”.

It may take a few derailments, but you should eventually find yourself routinely exceeding your starting goal (if you don’t, either this advice doesn’t work well for you, or you set your original goal too high). Be careful of allowing success to ruin your habit; try and write at least X words each day, not X words each day on average over the course of a week.

The number of days before you derail on a goal in Beeminder is called “safety buffer”. For outputs you intend to Beemind daily, I recommend setting yourself up so that you can have no more than two days of safety buffer. This lets you save up some writing for a busy day or two, but doesn’t let you skip a whole week. If you have a premium plan, Beeminder allows you to automatically cap your safety buffer, but you can also do it manually if you’re disciplined (I did this for many months until I could afford a premium plan).

The set-up on my daily writing time goal.

When you get to the point of regularly trimming your safety buffer you’re almost ready to move on up. Once you’re really, really sure you can handle more (i.e. exceeded your minimum every day for two weeks), slowly increase your commitment. You don’t want to get too cocky here. If you’re currently aiming for 150 words/day and 9 days out of 10 you write 250, set your new goal to 200, not 250. You want to feel like you’re successfully and competently meeting your goal, not like you’re scrapping by by the skin of your teeth.

Step 4: Make Molecules

Once you become comfortable with your atomic goals and find stable long term resting spots for them, you can start to Beemind more complex outputs. This is using Beeminder to directly push you towards your goals. Want to work on your blog? Beemind blog posts. Want to work on a book? Beemind pages or chapters or scenes. Want to keep a record of your life? Beemind weekly journals.

These are all complicated outputs made up of many words or minutes of writing. You won’t finish them as regularly. It’s easy to sit down and crank out enough words in an hour to hit most word count goals. But these larger outputs might not be achievable in a single day, especially if you have work or family commitments. That’s why you want your writing habit well established and predictable by the time you take them on.

Remember, you don’t want to set yourself up for failure if it’s at all avoidable. Don’t take on a more complex output as a Beeminder goal until you have a sense of how long it will take you to produce each unit of it and always start at a rate where you’re sure you can deliver. Had a few weeks of finishing one chapter a week? Start your Beeminder goal at one chapter every ten days.

It’s easy to up your Beeminder goal when you find it’s too lenient. It’s really hard to get back into writing after a string of discouragements caused by setting your goals too aggressive.

Even when you manage to meet overambitious goals, you might suffer for it in other ways. I’m not even talking about your social life or general happiness taking a hit (even though those are both very possible). Stretching yourself too thin can make your writing worse!

I had a period where I was Beeminding regularly publishing writing at a rate faster than I was really capable of. I managed to make my goal anyway, but I did it by writing simple, low-risk posts. I shoved aside some of the more complex and rewarding things I was looking forward to writing because I was too stubborn to ease back on my goal. It took me months to realize that I’d messed up and get rid of the over-ambitious goal.

It was only after I dialed everything back and gave myself more space to work that I started producing things I was really proud of again. That period with the overambitious goal stands out as one of the few times since I started writing again where I produced nothing I’m particularly proud of.

Tuning down the publishing goal didn’t even cause me to write less. I didn’t dial back my atomic goals, just my more complicated one, so I was still writing the same amount. When I was ready to begin publishing things I’d written again, I started the goal at a much lower rate. After a few months of consistently exceeding it, I raised the rate.

Here’s what my original goal looked like:

It’s hard to see, but I derailed five times between the end of December 2015 and the start of May 2016. I wasn’t derailing much in March in April, but I also wasn’t writing anything I was proud of. It was a terrible dilemma. Do I write thoughtful posts and lose money? Or do I churn out work I’m not proud of to save me the costs of a derailment? I think now I’d rather the derailments. At least I liked what I was writing when I was derailing.

Here’s my new blogging goal:

No derailments here! I started this at the rate of one post per month and only increased the slope at the end of March after I’d proved to myself that I wouldn’t have any problems keeping up the pace. It was a near thing at the start of May after two weeks of vacation where I’d had less chance to write than I hoped, but it turned out okay. In retrospect, it probably would have been smarter to increase the rate after my vacation, not before.

As you can see, I learned my lesson about over-ambition.

Step 5: Vanquish Guilt

At the same time as you work on Beeminding more complex outputs, you will want to be examining and replacing the guilt based motivation structure you may have built to get there.

Guilt can be a useful motivator to do the bare minimum on a project; guilt (and terror) is largely what got me through university. But guilt is a terrible way to build a long-term habit. If writing is something you do to avoid a creeping guilt, you may start to associate negative feelings with writing; if you started a writing habit because you love writing, then you’re risking that very love if you motivate yourself solely with guilt.

I recommend looking at Beeminder not as a tool to effectively guilt yourself into writing, but as a reminder of what writing is worth to you. You value consistently writing at $X. You know that every time you skip writing for a day or a week, there is a Y% chance that you might lose the habit. Multiply those two together and you get your ideal maximum Beeminder pledge.

$0 pledges are another fancy premium Beeminder feature. It’s only $0 once though. Every time I derail, it goes up to the next highest pledge level. It takes a full week to lower your pledge by one level, so bee careful.

It’s entirely rational to choose to derail on Beeminder if you value something else more than you value writing just then Here Beeminder is helping you make this trade-off explicit. You may know that not writing tonight costs you $Z of estimated future utility (this doesn’t necessarily mean future earnings; it could also represent the how much writing is worth to you as an entertainment), but without Beeminder you wouldn’t be facing it head on. When you can directly compare the utility of two ways to spend your time, you can make better decisions and trade-offs.

That said, it rarely comes to mutual exclusion. Often Beeminder prompts me to find a way to write, even if there’s something else I really want to do that partially conflicts. Things that I might lazily view as mutually exclusive often turn out not to be, once there’s money on the line.

It may seem hard to make this leap, especially when you start out with Beeminder. But after two years of regularly Beeminder use, I can honestly say that it doesn’t guilt me into anything. Even when it forces me to write, the emotional tone isn’t quite guilt. Beeminder is an effective goad because it helps me see the causal chain between writing tonight and having a robust writing habit. I write because I’m proud of the amount I write and I want to keep being proud of it. I’m not spurring myself with guilt and using that negativity to move forward. I’m latching onto the pride I want to be able to feel and navigating towards that.

Mere reminders to write are the least of what I get out Beeminder though. Beeminder became so much more effective for me once I started to regularly surpass my goals. Slowly, I began to be motivated mostly by exceeding them and that motivation led me to exceed them by ever greater margins and enjoy every minute of it.

For more about the perils of guilt as a motivational tool (and some suggestions on how to replace it), check out the replacing guilt sequence on Nate Soare’s blog, Minding Our Way. For a TL;DR, try “Don’t steer with guilt“.

Step 6: Success Spiral

This is the part where everything starts to come together. When you get here, guilt based motivation is but a dim memory. You write because you want to. Beeminder helps keep you on track, but you’re more likely to spend a bit of extra time writing to see the spike in your graphs than you are because you’ll derail otherwise.

When you get to this point (or earlier, depending on how you like to work), something like Complice can really help you make the most of all your motivation. Complice helps you tie your daily actions into the set long- and medium-term goals you’ve set. It has a kickass Beeminder integration that makes Beeminding as easy checking off a box. It has integrated Pomodoro timers for tracking how much time you work (and can send the results to Beeminder). It allows you and a friend to sign up as accountability buddies and see what each other get done [4]. And it shows you how much work you’ve done in the past, allowing you to use the “don’t break the chain” productivity hack if it works for you (it works for me).

The last few weeks of my writing goal in Complice. For two of the days in the pictured period, I only wrote because I couldn’t bear to lose my streak of days where I’d hit my writing goal.

As I finish off this piece, I find myself tired and lethargic. It’s not that I particularly want to be writing (although some of the tiredness fell away as soon as I started to type). It’s that writing every night feels like the default option of my life. As weird as it sounds, it feels like it would take me more effort to skip writing than to do it.

This is really good, because any grumpiness about writing I might start with is often gone in under five minutes. The end result of me writing – even on a day when starting was hard – is improved mood for the whole day. I love the sense of accomplishment that creating something brings.

The road here wasn’t exactly easy. It’s taken more than two and a half years, hundreds of thousands of words, incipient carpal tunnel, and many false starts. It’s the false starts that inspired me to write this. I doubt, dear reader, that you are exactly like me. Likely some of this advice won’t work for you. It is, however, my hope that it can point you in the right direction. Perhaps my false starts can save you some of your own.

I would feel deeply uncomfortable giving anyone advice on how to be a better writer; I don’t feel confident enough in my craft for that [5]. But I do feel like I know how to develop a kickass writing habit, the sort of habit that gives you the practice you need to get better. If you too want to write regularly, how about you give this a try?

Postscript

I think the steps outlined here could be used to help build a variety of durable habits across disciplines. Want to program, cook, draw, or learn a new language? Think that in any of those cases a daily habit would be helpful? This advice is probably transferable to some degree. That said, I haven’t tried to repeat this process for any of those things, so I don’t know what the caveats are or where it will break down. If you adapt this post for anything else, let me know and I’ll link to it here.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to the kind folks at Beeminder for helping me create some of the graphs used in this post. In addition, thanks are due for fielding my semi-panicked support requests when the graph generation caused some problems with my account.

Thanks to Malcolm Ocean of Complice for pointing me towards Beeminder in the first place and for the year in review post that spurred me to make writing my New Year’s Resolution in 2015.

Disclaimer

I genuinely like the people whose products I recommend in this blog post. I genuinely like their creations. They aren’t giving me anything to recommend their stuff.

True story: Beeminder sent out a survey about referral links and I told them they could set up a referral system, but I’d never use it. I think Beeminder and Complice are incredibly valuable tools that are tragically under-used and I don’t want to risk even the appearance of a conflict of interest that might make people less likely to follow my recommendations to use them. For me, they’ve been literally life-changing.

I’ve linked to my specific Beeminder writing goals (there are four of them) at various points throughout this post, but if you want the proof that I’m not talking out of my ass all nicely collected in one place, you can check out my progress towards all of my Beeminder goals at: https://www.beeminder.com/zacharyjacobi.

Footnotes:

[1] If this advice doesn’t work for you, don’t sweat it. I’m just a dude on the internet. This isn’t the bible. What works for me may not work for you and there’s nothing wrong with you if it doesn’t. You’ll just have to find your own way, is all. ^

[2] If Beeminder doesn’t work for you, I recommend a human accountability buddy (who will check up on your writing progress each day and maybe take your money if you aren’t hitting your goals). ^

[3] The best advice about writer’s block I’ve ever seen came from Cory Doctorow. He said that some days he feels like he’s inspired and a heavenly chorus is writing for him and other days he feels like he can’t write worth shit and has no clue what’s he’s supposed to be doing. He goes on to say that no matter how strong these feelings are, a month later he can’t tell the which words were written in which state. ^

[4] I cannot recommend this feature highly enough for people in long-distance relationships. ^

[5] For non-fiction writing advice, try the Slate Star Codex post of the same name. For more general advice, here’s tips from 23 different authors. ^

Science

Science Isn’t Your Cudgel

Do you want to understand how the material world works at the most fundamental level? Great! There’s a tool for that. Or a method. Or a collection of knowledge. “Science” is an amorphous concept, hard to pin down or put into a box. Is science the method of hypothesis generation and testing? Is it as Popper claimed, asking falsifiable questions and trying to refute your own theories? Is it inextricably entangled with the ream of statistical methods that have grown up in service of it? Or is it the body of knowledge that has emerged from the use of all of these intellectual tools?

I’m not sure what exactly science is. Whatever its definition, I feel like it helps me understand the world. Even still I have to remind myself that caring about science is like caring about a partner in a marriage. You need to be with it in good health and in bad, when it confirms things you’ve always wanted to believe, or when your favourite study fails to replicate or is retracted. It’s rank hypocrisy to shout the virtues of science when it confirms your beliefs and denigrate or ignore it when it doesn’t.

Unfortunately, it’s easy to collect examples of people who are selective about their support for science. Here’s three:

  1. Elizabeth May – and many other environmentalists – are really fond of the phrase “the science is clear” when talking about global warming or the dangers of pollution. In this they are entirely correct – the scientific consensus on global warming is incredibly clear. But when Elizabeth May says things like “Nuclear energy power generation has been proven to be harmful to the environment and hazardous to human health“, she isn’t speaking scientifically. Nuclear energy is one of the safest forms of power for both humans and the climate. Elizabeth May (and most of the environmental movement) are only fans of science when it fits with their fantasies of deindustrialization, not when it conflicts with them. See also the conflict between scientists on GMOs and environmentalists on GMOs.
  2. Hillary Clinton (who earned the support of most progressive Americans in the past election) is quite happy to applaud the March For Science and talk about how important science is, but she’s equally happy to peddle junk science (like the implicit association test) on the campaign trail.
  3. Unfortunately, this is a bipartisan phenomenon [1]. So called “race realists” belong on this list as well [2]. Race realists take research about racial variations in IQ (often done in America, with all of its gory history of repression along racial lines) and then claim that it maps directly onto observable racial characterises. Race realists ignore the fact that scientific attempts at racial clustering show strong continuity between populations and find that almost all genetic variance is individual, not between groups [3]. Race realists are fond of saying that people must accept the “unfortunate truth”, but are terrible at accepting that science is at least as unfortunate for their position as it is for blank slatism. The true scientific consensus lies somewhere in-between [4].

In all these cases, we see people who are enthusiastic defenders of “science” as long as the evidence suits the beliefs that they already hold. They are especially excited to use capital-S Science as a cudgel to bludgeon people who disagree with them and shallowly defend the validity of science out of concern for their cudgel. But actually caring about science requires an almost Kierkegaardian act of resignation. You have to give up on your biases, give up on what you want to be true, and accept the consensus of experts.

Caring about science enough to be unwilling to hold beliefs that aren’t supported by evidence is probably not for everyone. I’m not even sure I want it to be for everyone. Mike Alder says of a perfect empiricist:

It must also be said that, although one might much admire a genuine [empiricist] philosopher if such could found, it would be unwise to invite one to a dinner party. Unwilling to discuss anything unless he understood it to a depth that most people never attain on anything, he would be a notably poor conversationalist. We can safely say that he would have no opinions on religion or politics, and his views on sex would tend either to the very theoretical or to the decidedly empirical, thus more or less ruling out discussion on anything of general interest.

Science isn’t all there is. It would be much poorer world if it was. I love literature and video games, silly puns and recursive political jokes. I don’t try and make every statement I utter empirically correct. There’s a lot of value in having people haring off in weird directions or trying speculative modes of thought. And many questions cannot be answered though science.

But dammit, I have standards. This blog has codified epistemic statuses and I try and use them. I make public predictions and keep a record of how I do on them so that people can assess my accuracy as a predictor. I admit it when I’m wrong.

I don’t want to make it seem like you have to go that far to have a non-hypocritical respect for science.  Honestly, looking for a meta-analysis before posting something both factual and potentially controversial will get you 80% of the way there.

Science is more than a march and some funny Facebook memes. I’m glad to see so many people identifying so strongly with science. But for it to mean anything they have to be prepared to do the painful legwork of researching their views and admitting when they’re wrong. I have in the past hoped that loudly trumpeting support for science might be a gateway drug towards a deeper respect for science, but I don’t think I’ve seen any evidence for this. It’s my hope that over the next few years we’ll see more and more of the public facing science community take people to task for shallow support. If we make it low status to be a fair-weather friend of science, will we see more people actually putting in the work to properly support their views with empirical evidence?

This is an experiment I would like to try.

Footnotes

[1] The right, especially the religious right, is less likely to use “science” as a justification for anything, which is the main reason I don’t have complaints about them in this blog post. It is obviously terrible science to pretend that evolution didn’t happen or that global warming isn’t occurring, but it isn’t hypocritical if you don’t otherwise claim to be a fan of science. Crucially, this blog post is more about hypocrisy than bad science per se. ^

[2] My problems with race realists go beyond their questionable scientific claims. I also find them to be followers of a weird and twisted philosophy that equates intelligence with moral worth in a way I find repulsive. ^

[3] Taken together, these are damning for the idea that race can be easily inferred from skin colour. ^

[4] Yes, I know we aren’t supposed to trust Vox when it comes to scientific consensus. But Freddie de Boer backs it up and people I trust who have spent way more time than I have reading about IQ think that Freddie knows his stuff. ^

Ethics, Philosophy

Against Moral Intuitions

[Content Warning: Effective Altruism, the Drowning Child Argument]

I’m a person who sometimes reads about ethics. I blame Catholicism. In Catholic school, you have to take a series of religion courses. The first two are boring. Jesus loves you, is your friend, etc. Thanks school. I got that from going to church all my life. But the later religion classes were some of the most useful courses I’ve taken. Ever. The first was world religions. Thanks to that course, “how do you know that about [my religion]?” is a thing I’ve heard many times.

The second course was about ethics, biblical analysis, and apologetics. The ethics part hit me the hardest. I’d always loved systematizing and here I was exposed to Very Important Philosophy People engaged in the millennia long project of systematizing fundamental questions of right and wrong under awesome sounding names, like “utilitarianism” and “deontology”.

In the class, we learned commonly understood pitfalls of ethical systems, like that Kantians have to tell the truth to axe murderers and that utilitarians like to push fat people in front of trains. This introduced me to the idea of philosophical thought experiments.

I’ve learned (and wrote) a lot more about ethics since those days and I’ve read through a lot of thought experiments. When it comes to ethics, there seems to be two ways a thought experiment can go; it can show that an ethical system conflicts with our moral intuitions, or it can show that an ethical system fails to universalize.

Take the common criticism of deontology, that the Kantian moral imperative to always tell the truth applies even when you could achieve a much better outcome with a white lie. The thought experiment that goes with this point asks us to imagine a person with an axe intent on murdering our best friend. The axe murderer asks us where our friend can be found and warns us that if we don’t answer, they’ll kill us. Most people would tell the murderer a quick lie, then call the police as soon as they leave. Deontologists say that we must not lie.

Most people have a clear moral intuition about what to do in a situation like that, a moral intuition that clashes with what deontologists suggest we should do. Confronted with this mismatch, many people will leave with a dimmer view of deontology, convinced that it “gets this one wrong”. That uncertainty opens a crack. If deontology requires us to tell the truth even to axe murderers, what else might it get wrong?

The other way to pick a hole in ethical systems is to show that the actions that they recommend don’t universalize (i.e. they’d be bad if everyone did them). This sort of logic is perhaps most familiar to parents of young children, who, when admonishing their sprogs not to steal, frequently point out that they have possessions they cherish, possessions they wouldn’t like stolen from them. This is so successful because most people have an innate sense of fairness; maybe we’d all like it if we could get away with stuff that no one else could, but most of us know we’ll never be able to, so we instead stand up for a world where no one else can get away with the stuff we can’t.

All of the major branches of ethics fall afoul of either universalizability or moral intuitions in some way.

Deontology (doing only things that universalize and doing them with pure motives) and utilitarianism (doing whatever leads to the best outcomes for everyone) both tend to universalize really well. This is helped by the fact that both of these systems treat people as virtually interchangeable; if you are in the same situation as I am, these ethical systems would recommend the same thing for both of us. Unfortunately, both deontology and utilitarianism have well known cases of clashing with moral intuitions.

Egoism (do whatever is in your self-interest) doesn’t really universalize. At some point, your self-interest will come into conflict with the self-interest of other people and you’re going to choose your own.

Virtue ethics (cultivating virtues that will allow you to live a moral life) is more difficult to pin down and I’ll have to use a few examples. On first glance, Virtue ethics tends to fit in well with our moral intuitions and universalizes fairly well. But virtue ethics has as its endpoint virtuous people, not good outcomes, which strikes many people as the wrong thing to aim for.

For example, a utilitarian may consider their obligation to charity to exist as long as poverty does. A virtue ethicist has a duty to charity only insofar as it is necessary to cultivate the virtue of charity; their attempt to cultivate the virtue will run the same course in a mostly equal society and a fantastically unequal one. This trips up the commonly held moral intuition that the worse the problem, the greater our obligation to help.

Virtue ethics may also fail to satisfy our moral intuitions when you consider the societal nature of virtue. In a world where slavery is normalized, virtue ethicists often don’t critique slavery, because their society has no corresponding virtue for fighting against the practice. This isn’t just a hypothetical; Aristotle and Plato, two of the titans of virtue ethics defended slavery in their writings. When you have the meta moral intuition that your moral intuitions might change over time, virtue ethics can feel subtly off to you. “What virtues are we currently missing?” you may ask yourself, or “how will the future judge those considered virtuous today?”. In many cases, the answers to these questions are “many” and “poorly”. See the opposition to ending slavery, opposition to interracial marriage, and opposition to same-sex marriage for salient examples.

It was so hard for me to attack virtue ethics with moral intuitions because virtue ethics is remarkably well suited for them. This shouldn’t be too surprising. Virtue ethics and moral intuitions arose in similar circumstances – small, closely knit, and homogenous groups of humans with very limited ability to affect their environment or effect change at a distance.

Virtue ethics work best when dealing with small groups of people where everyone is mutually known. When you cannot help someone half a world away, it really only does matter that you have the virtue of charity developed such that a neighbour can ask for your help and receive it. Most virtue ethicists would agree that there is virtue in being humane to animals – after all, cruelty to other animals often shows a penchant for cruelty to humans. But the virtue ethics case against factory farming is weak from the perspective of the end consumer. Factory farming is horrifically cruel. But it is not our cruelty, so it does not impinge on our virtue. We have outsourced this cruelty (and many others) and so can be easily virtuous in our sanitized lives.

Moral intuitions are the same way. I’d like to avoid making any claims about why moral intuitions evolved, but it seems trivially true to say that they exist, that they didn’t face strong negative selection pressure, and that the environment in which they came into being was very different from the modern world.

Because of this, moral intuitions tend to only be activated when we see or hear about something wrong. Eating factory farmed meat does not offend the moral intuitions of most people (including me), because we are well insulated from the horrible cruelty of factory farming. Moral intuitions are also terrible at spurring us to action beyond our own immediate network. From the excellent satirical essay Newtonian Ethics:

Imagine a village of a hundred people somewhere in the Congo. Ninety-nine of these people are malnourished, half-dead of poverty and starvation, oozing from a hundred infected sores easily attributable to the lack of soap and clean water. One of those people is well-off, living in a lovely two-story house with three cars, two laptops, and a wide-screen plasma TV. He refuses to give any money whatsoever to his ninety-nine neighbors, claiming that they’re not his problem. At a distance of ten meters – the distance of his house to the nearest of their hovels – this is monstrous and abominable.

Now imagine that same hundredth person living in New York City, some ten thousand kilometers away. It is no longer monstrous and abominable that he does not help the ninety-nine villagers left in the Congo. Indeed, it is entirely normal; any New Yorker who spared too much thought for the Congo would be thought a bit strange, a bit with-their-head-in-the-clouds, maybe told to stop worrying about nameless Congolese and to start caring more about their friends and family.

If I can get postmodern for a minute, it seems that all ethical systems draw heavily from the time they are conceived. Kant centred his deontological ethics in humanity instead of in God, a shift that makes sense within the context of his time, when God was slowly being removed from the centre of western philosophy. Utilitarianism arose specifically to answer questions around the right things to legislate. Given this, it is unsurprising that it emerged at a time when states were becoming strong enough and centralized enough that their legislation could affect the entire populace.

Both deontology and utilitarianism come into conflict with our moral intuitions, those remnants of a bygone era when we were powerless to help all but the few directly surrounding us. When most people are confronted with a choice between their moral intuitions and an ethical system, they conclude that the ethical system must be flawed. Why?

What causes us to treat ancient, largely unchanging intuitions as infallible and carefully considered ethical systems as full of holes? Why should it be this way and not the other way around?

Let me try and turn your moral intuitions on themselves with a variant of a famous thought experiment. You are on your way to a job interview. You already have a job, but this one pays $7,500 more each year. You take a short-cut to the interview through a disused park. As you cross a bridge over the river that bisects the park, you see a child drowning beneath you. Would you save the child, even if it means you won’t get the job and will have to make due with $7,500 less each year? Or would you let her drown and continue on the way to your interview? Our moral intuitions are clear on this point. It is wrong to let a child die because we wish to more money in our pockets each year.

Can you imagine telling someone about the case in which you don’t save the child? “Yeah, there was a drowning child, but I’ve heard that Acme Corp is a real hard-ass about interviews starting on time, so I just waltzed by her.” People would call you a monster!

Yet your moral intuitions also tell you that you have no duty to prevent the malaria linked deaths of children in Malawi, even you would be saving a child’s life at exactly the same cost. The median Canadian family income is $76,000. If a family making this amount of money donated 10% of their income to the Against Malaria Foundation, they would be able to prevent one death from malaria every year or two. No one calls you monstrous for failing to prevent these deaths, even though the costs and benefits are exactly the same. Ignoring the moral worth of people halfway across the world is practically expected of us and is directly condoned by our distance constrained moral intuitions.

Your moral intuitions don’t know how to cope with a world where you can save a life half the world away with nothing more than money and a well-considered donation. It’s not their fault. They didn’t develop for this. They have no way of dealing with a global community or an interconnected world. But given that, why should you trust the intuitions that aren’t developed for the situation you find yourself in? Why should you trust an evolutionary vestige over elegant and well-argued systems that can gracefully cope with the realities of modern life?

I’ve chosen utilitarianism over my moral intuitions, even when the conclusions are inconvenient or truly terrifying. You can argue with me about what moral intuitions say all you want, but I’m probably not going to listen. I don’t trust moral intuitions anymore. I can’t trust anything that fails to spur people towards the good as often as moral intuitions do.

Utilitarianism says that all lives are equally valuable. It does not say that all lives are equally easy to save. If you want to maximize the good that you do, you should seek out the lives that are cheapest to save and thereby save as many people as possible.

To this end, I’ve taken the “Try Giving” pledge. Last September, I promised to donate 10% of my income to the most effective charities for a year. This September, I’m going to take the full Giving What We Can pledge, making my commitment to donate to the most effective charities permeant.

If utilitarianism appeals to you and you have the means to donate, I’d like to encourage you to do the same.

Epistemic Status: I managed to talk about both post-modernism and evolutionary psychology, so handle with care. Also, Ethics.

Economics, Politics

Whose Minimum Wage?

[Epistemic Status: I am not an economist, but…]

There’s something missing from the discussion about the $15/hour minimum wage in Ontario, something basically every news organization has failed to pick up on. I’d have missed it too, except that a chance connection to a recent blog post I’d read sent me down the right rabbit hole. I’ve climbed out on the back of a mound of government statistics and I really want to share what I’ve found.

I

Reading through the coverage of the proposed $15/hour minimum wage, I was reminded that the Ontario minimum wage is currently indexed to inflation. Before #FightFor15 really took off, indexing the minimum wage to inflation was the standard progressive minimum wage platform (as evidenced by Obama calling for it in 2013). Ontario is actually aiming for the best of both worlds; the new $15/hour minimum wage will be indexed to inflation. The hope is that it will continue to have the same purchasing power long into the future.

In Canada, inflation is also called the “consumer price index” or CPI. The CPI is based on a standard basket of goods (i.e. a list that includes such things as “children’s sneakers” and “French fries, curly”), which Statistics Canada assesses the price of every few months. These prices are averaged, weighted, and compared to the previous year’s prices to get a single number. This number is periodically reset to 100 (most recently in 2002). The CPI for 2016 is 128.4; in 2016, it cost $128.40 to buy a basket of goods that cost $100.00 in 2002.

The problem with the CPI is that it’s just an average; when you look at what goes into it category by category, it becomes clear that “inflation” isn’t really a single number.

Here’s the last few years of the CPI, with some of the categories broken out:

Table Source: The Canadian Consumer Price Index Reference Paper > Summary Tables; click the table to view the data in Google Sheets.

Every row in this table that is shaded green has decreased in price since 2002. Rows that are shaded blue have increased in price, but have increased slower than the rate of inflation. Economists would say that they’ve increased in price in nominal (unadjusted for inflation) terms, but they’ve decreased in price in real (adjusted for inflation) terms. Real prices are important, because they show how prices are changing relative to other goods on the market. As the real value of goods and services change, so too does the fraction of each paycheque that people spend on them.

The red, yellow, and orange rows represent categories that have increased in price faster than the general rate of inflation. These categories of goods and services are becoming more expensive in both real and nominal terms.

There’s no other way to look at the CPI that shows variation as large as that between categories. When you break it down by major city, the CPI for 2016 varies from 120.7 (Victoria, BC) to 135.6 (Calgary, AB). When you break it down by province, you see basically the same thing, with the CPI varying from 122.4 in BC to 135.2 in Alberta.

Looking at this chart, you can see that electronics (“Home Entertainment”) have become 45% cheaper in nominal (unadjusted for inflation) terms and a whopping 58% cheaper in real (adjusted for inflation) terms. Basically, electronics have never been less expensive.

On the other hand, you have education, which has become 60.8% more expensive in nominal terms and 25% more expensive in real terms. It costing more and more to get an education, in a way that can’t just be explained by “inflation”.

Three of the four categories with the biggest increases in prices rely on the labour of responsible people. The fourth is tobacco; prices increases there are probably driven by increased taxation and its position is a bit of a red herring. It’s potentially worrying that the categories where things are getting cheaper (e.g. electronics, clothes) are in the industries that are most amenable to automation. This might imply that tasks that cannot be automated are doomed to become increasingly expensive [1].

II

I’m certainly not the first person to make the observation that “inflation” isn’t a single number. Economists have presumably known this forever, related as it is to the important economics concept of “cost disease“. More recently, you can see this point made from two different directions in Scott Alexander’s “Considerations on Cost Disease” (which tries to get to the bottom of the price increases in healthcare and education) and Andrew Potter’s “The age of anti-consumerism has passed” (which looks at the societal changes wrought by many consumer goods becoming much cheaper). As far as I know, no one has yet tied this observation to the discussion surrounding the new Ontario minimum wage.

Like I said above, the new minimum wage will still be indexed to inflation; the “$15/hour” minimum wage won’t stay at $15/hour. If inflation follows current trends (this is a terrible assumption but it’s all I’ve got), it will rise by about 1.5% per year. In 2020 it will be (again, bad extrapolation alert) $15.25 and in 2021 it will be $15.50.

Extrapolating backwards, the current Ontario minimum wage ($11.40/hour) was equivalent to $8.88/hour in 2002 (when the CPI was last reset). If instead of tracking inflation generally, the minimum wage had tracked electronics, it would be $4.84 today. If it tracked education, it would be $14.28. Next year, the minimum wage will be $14/hour (it will take until 2019 for the $15/hour wage to be fully phased in), which will make 2018 the first time that students working minimum wage are getting paychecks that will have increased as much as the cost of education.

This won’t last of course. The divergence in prices shows no signs of decreasing. The CPI will continue to climb upwards at a steady rate (the target is 2%, last year it only rose 1.4%), buoyed up by large increases in education costs (2.8% last year) and held down by steady decreases in the price of electronics (-1.6% last year). Imagine that the $15/hour minimum wage allows a student to pay a year’s tuition with a summer’s worth of work. If current trends continue, in 15 years, it would only cover 75% of tuition. Fifteen years after that it would cover about 60%.

III

There’s a funny thing about these numbers. The stuff that’s getting more expensive more quickly is largely stuff that younger people have to pay for. If you’re 50, have more or less raised your kids, and own a house, then you’re golden even if you’re working a minimum wage job (although by this point, you probably aren’t). Assuming your wage has increased with inflation over your working lifetime, a lot of the things you’re looking to buy (travel, electronics, medical devices) will be getting cheaper relative to what you make. Healthcare service costs (e.g. the cost of seeing a doctor) might be increasing for you in theory, but in practice OHIP has you covered for all your doctor’s visits [2].

It’s younger people who are really shafted. First, they’re more likely to be earning minimum wage, with nearly 60% of minimum wage earners in Canada in the 15 to 24 age bracket. Second, the sorts of things that younger people need or aspire to (education, childcare, home ownership) are big ticket items that are increasing in cost above the rate of inflation. Like with the tuition example above, childcare and home ownership are going to slip out of the grasp of young workers even if you index their wage to inflation.

I happen to like the idea of a $15/hour minimum wage. There’s a lot of disagreement among economists as to whether they’ll be ill effects, but this meta-analysis (complete with funnel plot!) has me more or less convinced that the economy will do just fine [3]. Given that Ontario will still have an economy post wage-hike, I think increasing the minimum wage will be good for workers.

But a minimum wage increase leaves the larger problem of differing rates of inflation unsolved. Even with a minimum wage indexed to inflation, we’re going to have people waking up twenty-five years from now, realizing that their minimum wage job doesn’t pay for university/food/utilities/childcare/transit the same way their parents’ minimum wage job did. This will be a problem.

I’m game to kick the can down the road for a bit if it means we can make the lives of minimum wage workers better right now. But until we’ve solved this problem for good, it will keep coming back [4].

Footnotes:

[1] I’m not sure this is exactly a bad thing, per se. Money is a means of signalling that you’d like your preferences satisfied. It becoming more expensive to pay actual humans to do things could mean that actual humans have so many good options that they’re only going to waste their time satisfying your preferences if you really make it worth their while. Looked at this way, this means we’re steadily freeing ourselves from work.

On the other hand, this seems to apply mainly to responsible/competent/intelligent people and not everyone is responsible/competent/intelligent, so this could also imply that we have a looming crisis, with a huge number of people simply becoming economically unnecessary. This is really bad, because high-quality life should be possible for everyone, not just those who’ve lucked into economically valuable traits and under capitalism it is really hard to have a high-quality life if you aren’t economically valuable. ^

[2] For readers outside of Ontario, OHIP is the Ontario Health Insurance Plan. It covers all hospital and clinic care for all legal residents of Ontario, as well as dental and ophthalmological care for minors. OHIP is a non-actuarial insurance program; premiums come from provincial income tax and payroll tax revenues, as well as transfer payments of federal tax revenues. All Ontarians enrolled in OHIP (i.e. basically all of us) have a health card which allows us to access all covered services free of charge (beyond the taxes we’ve already paid) any time we want to. ^

[3] No effect on the unemployment rate does not mean no effect on the employment of individual people. A $15/hour minimum wage will probably tempt some people back into the labour force (I’m thinking here that this will mostly be women), while excluding others whose labour would not be valued that highly (unfortunately this will probably hit people with certain mental illnesses or disabilities the hardest). ^

[4] I think it’s especially pernicious how the difference in inflation rates between types of goods is kind of by default a source of inter-generational strife. First, it makes it more difficult for each succeeding generation to hit the same landmarks that defined adulthood and independence for the previous generation (e.g. home ownership, education, having children), with all the terrible think-pieces, conflict-ridden Thanksgiving dinners, and crushed dreams this implies. Second, it can pit the economic interests of generations against each other; healthcare for older people is subsidized by premiums from younger ones, while the increase in the cost of homes benefit existing players (who skew older) to the determinant of new market entrants (who skew younger). ^

All About Me, Politics

Political Views for May 2017

Like many others who are a bit, um, obsessive when it comes to politics, I’ve long been a fan of the Political Compass. Most people are familiar with the differences between left wing redistributive and right wing capitalist politics. The observation underlying the Political Compass is that these aren’t the only salient axes of political disagreement.

In addition to the standard left-right economic disagreement, the Political Compass looks at the disagreements between libertarians and authoritarians. This second axis deals with the amount of social restrictions (or, from the other point of view, mandated social cohesiveness) a government imposes on its citizens.

The Political Compass breaks political parties (and the political views of individuals) into four quadrants: the authoritarian left (think centralized communism, e.g. Mao, Stalin), the authoritarian right (think socially conservative capitalism, e.g. Reagan, Thatcher), the libertarian right (think socially permissive capitalism e.g. Macron, Gary Johnson), and the libertarian left (socially permissive welfare states or regional collectivism, e.g. Corbyn, Stein).

It is common to see authoritarian policies coupled with deregulated capitalism and socially liberal policies coupled with more redistributive economic systems, a trend which causes many people to associate the economic left with libertarian social attitudes and the economic right with authoritarian social attitudes. One of the goals of the Political Compass is to allow people to disentangle these common correlations.

The categorization provided by the Political Compass is perhaps most useful when discussing less common political views, like nationalism and (economic) libertarianism. Many nationalists are actually very economically centrist – the nationalist and racist British National Party is economically to the left of the UK Labour Party. This makes it inappropriate to simply label these groups as “far-right”. They aren’t far right in the economic sense. They are instead very authoritarian, a characteristic most people associate with the economic right.

Libertarians are also occasionally referred to as extremely right. In this case, it is correct to make a comparison with other economically right parties, but important to remember that libertarians lack the social conservativism that defines most right-wing parties. The Libertarian Party in the United States might agree with the GOP on economics, but they’re more likely even than Democrats to oppose the militarization of police forces, the expansion of national security powers, or the war on drugs.

I’ve been a fan of the Political Compass for a long time. Recently I wondered how my political views (as measured by a political compass score) have changed over the past few years. Unfortunately, I don’t have any good records of where exactly the political compass put me in the past. All of I have to go on are my somewhat fuzzy memories, which I think put me on the extreme left-libertarian side of things (I believe the score was approximately -7/-7, far into the left-libertarian quadrant).

One of my great joys this past year has been reading year-old journal entries; this is the first time I’ve kept a regular journal, so having a written record of what exactly I did a year ago is still novel to me. Because of my journal, I’ve gained a lot of insight into how the past year has (and hasn’t) changed me. When I retook the Political Compass test recently, I was sad that I didn’t know for sure how I’d done in the past. With this in mind, I’ve decided to publish my results (and just as importantly, why I think I got them) yearly.

 

The Results

 

I scored -3.25 on the economic axis (this puts me firmly left of centre) and -6.56 on the authority axis (putting me deep in the social libertarian camp). Here’s how I stack up against the Canadian political parties (as assessed in 2015 by the Political Compass).

These results put me to the left of all Canadian political parties economically and very, very far from all of the Canadian political parties on civil liberties. The new score is in the same quadrant as my previous score, but is somewhat less extreme (especially economically).

Much more interesting (to my imagined version of a future me at least) than the fact of my score is the political reasoning that caused me to receive it.

Economics

I’m not surprised that the Political Compass put me more or less in the centre-left, because centre-left policies feel very much like part of my identity. Drawing on Joseph Heath’s definition, I would say that the centre-left is united by a belief that the government should primarily focus its economic interventions on solving collective action problems and fixing market failures and that the government should do this in a redistributive manner.

Adjacent to the centre-left on one side is the centre-right, which agrees with the centre-left on the purpose of government, but doesn’t advocate for redistributive solutions. One of the best examples of how this difference actually plays out is in healthcare.

The centre-left solution to the well-known market failures of health insurance is to mandate a national insurance scheme with non-actuarial premiums (premiums based on income, rather than on risk of requiring health care). The centre-right uses something like Obamacare’s individual mandate, which requires everyone to hold health insurance or pay an extra tax. In both cases market failure is corrected through government policy and the average consumer is better off. The main difference is in who picks up most of the price tag.

In general, it’s my utilitarian ethics that make me favour the centre-left over the centre-right, not a belief that one approach (or the other) leads to better economic outcomes. The utilitarian argument for progressive taxation is simple. Money has decreasing marginal utility – the more you have of it, the less each individual dollar matters to you. When dealing with essential services, I think it is most ethical to pay for them in the way that causes the least dissatisfaction, which in practice means progressive taxation.

The centre-left isn’t entirely opposed to regressive taxation though. I support regressive taxation if that’s what it takes to price an externality (e.g. carbon taxes are regressive, but another cost structure wouldn’t correctly price the externality) or if the tax leads to better outcomes (e.g. cigarette taxes are regressive, but reduce the incidence of smoking).

My disagreements with the hard-left are rarely about morality. In general, I am liable to agree with your average communist, anarcho-communist, anarcho-syndicalist, socialist, etc. about the moral necessity of reducing poverty. I disagree with the hard-left merely about what is practical or expedient. I oppose setting prices (whether it’s for rent, pharmaceuticals, or fossil fuels) because the “cure” of setting prices is so often worse than the disease the price-setting is supposed to fix. I do genuinely believe that a rising tide can lift all boats and worry that hard-left policies would sabotage the engine of growth that has lifted over billion people out of absolute poverty in the past few decades.

The main role I see for the government is offering insurance. There are a variety of insurance products that suffer from adverse selection – the tendency for only the highest risk individuals or companies to purchase insurance against for certain risks. We see adverse selection in deposit insurance [1], health insurance, unemployment insurance, welfare (which is basically poverty insurance), and pensions (which are best modelled as insurance against outliving your savings). In these areas, the government can easily address a market failure by mandating that everyone must buy insurance against the risk. This lowers prices the average price considerably, making it feasable for the average person to protect against rare events in a way that isn’t possible in a market with adverse selection.

I also believe that the government should be involved in correcting for negative externalities. Without some central body forcing market participants to pay for negative externalities, we see them become distressingly common. If companies and individuals had always had to pay for the carbon they dumped into the atmosphere, we would expect global warming to be far less advanced by now. Where the externality doesn’t compete too strongly with human health and flourishing (e.g. small amounts of pollution, carbon dioxide, etc.), I think it makes sense to price it rather than ban it completely.

I absolutely loath systems like cap and trade, where a negative externality is dealt with through a complicated bureaucratic process that incentivizes people to game the system wherever possible. Just one concrete example of how this sort of thing can go wrong: a lot of the carbon credits in the European exchange came from the destruction of a potent greenhouse gas, HFC-23, at refrigerant plants in India and China. Destroying this gas became such a lucrative market that more refrigerant plants opened to get in on the action. The refrigerants were just an afterthought and were dumped on the market, making air-conditioning cheaper (which wasn’t good for global warming in its own right). When European regulators realized the scope of the mess they had caused, they banned the sale of HFC-23 carbon credits. Now former producers are threatening to release their stockpiles of HFC-23 (equivalent to two billion tonnes of CO2 emissions, 27 times the yearly CO2 emissions of all of Canada) unless Europe pays them off.

There are other reasons for my rejection of the European model of government meddling. European safety regulations do make it genuinely harder to bring new products to market in Europe (compared to the US and Canada). Here I’m happy to make a trade off that favours more innovation. Europe generously subsidizes post-secondary education. I’d prefer if we instead made post-secondary education much less mandatory.

I care about dynamism, not out of a belief in trickle-down economics, but because I’ve become (almost against my will) something of a techno-utopian. While I don’t want to diminish the role that social change plays in building a more ethical society (for example, there seems to be no technological solution to racism), I’m increasingly convinced that we won’t be able to solve poverty and disease except with radically improved technology. It’s uncontroversial to claim better technology is necessary to eradicate disease, but I think it is a bit more of an ask to get people to believe that technology offers a solution to poverty, so let me explain.

Capitalism offers an excellent solution to the problem of resource distribution: give more to people who create value for others, encouraging positive-sum interactions. But the moral case for capitalism breaks down in the presence of wealth. When people can hoard vast amounts of value or pass it on to their children (regardless of what value those children create for anyone), the argument that this method of resource allocation is ethical falls apart.

I don’t know if we can convince many people to make do with less. I know that revolutions almost always seem to go poorly and that socialism has an atrocious record of allocating even the simplest resources to people who need them – for all that there are ways global capitalism fails developing countries, global communism seemed to do no better. Given a choice between socialism and capitalism, I’ll take capitalism. It at least has the good graces to only lead to famines when they’re caused by external conditions, rather than as a matter of course [pdf link].

Given my skepticism about radical redistribution, I’ve become convinced that the only way to eradicate poverty is to create such a plenty that everyone can be guaranteed a decent living. This is why I worry about the slow and steady European approach to growth. Extreme poverty is the greatest stain on our collective morality I can see, an unconscionable and despicable ender of lives. We can’t afford to wait a single extra day to destroy it.

(In the absence of the eschaton, there is a community of people dedicated to doing what they can to reduce the impact of poverty. I encourage everyone to check out the moral case for Giving What We Can, an initiative that encourages those who can afford it to donate 10% of their income to the charities that are able to use that money to most effectively save lives).

Authority

I view the government as having little business legislating morality. I’m happy to accept economic legislation. I’m happy for the government to make activities associated with poor outcomes (e.g. alcohol consumption) more expensive via taxes. I’m even happy to pay taxes, both of the regular and “vice” varieties. I accept that taxes are a coercive use of government violence and I don’t care. I’m not a deontologist. I view violence as likely to be wrong, but I’m actually fine with the threat of violence being used to force society wide cooperation on the sorts of things that we’d mostly agree to from behind a Rawlsian veil of ignorance.

On the other hand, when we’re dealing with private, consensual behaviour (between people able to meaningfully consent), I can’t see any good that can come out of enforcing particular people’s versions of morality. I oppose most all blanket restrictions on the right of people to choose what to do with their bodies and oppose most especially restrictions on the ability of women to control their fertility. I oppose tighter restrictions on euthanasia. I oppose prohibitory drug laws (both out of a philosophical belief that people should be free to make their own decisions about their health, even bad ones, and out of a belief that prohibition increases crime and decreases access to treatment).

I even break with many other skeptics with my opposition to banning homeopathy or other widely accepted but empirically useless forms of placebo treatment. A friend has convinced me we’d likely see worse outcomes if we forced alternative medicines and their practitioners underground.

I think Canada’s free speech protections are inadequate and that we’re at risk of becoming a forum for libel shopping. I’ve become increasingly convinced that the only proper response to most speech is more speech, not violence (even state sanctioned violence, like arrest and imprisonment). I make an exception here only for credible threats (in the context of internet discussion, a credible threat is something like: “I will be waiting at ______, the place you work tomorrow and I’ll have a bullet with your name on it”, not “fuck you, I’m going to kill you”).

I think violent or hateful speech clearly marks someone as an unpleasant person to be around. Freedom of speech is inextricably tied to freedom of association; free speech rights can’t protect you from the social or reputational consequences of your speech. If you stop being invited to anything because of odious things you’ve said, you deserve it. No one has to offer you a platform for your speech. I see no responsibility to invite controversial speakers to events; doing so doesn’t “stand up for free speech”. Standing up for free speech merely requires we oppose violent responses to speech (including credible threats in response to speech) made by any actors, even the state.

Free speech is just one example of a right that is constantly under threat. Fair trials, access to housing without discrimination, and equal treatment under the law are arguably more important. I do support a central government enshrining rights and protecting people’s ability to enjoy these rights. The best quick heuristic I have for telling the difference between rights and legislated morality is that rights enumerate activities you should always be allowed to do, while legislated morality enumerates activities you will never be allowed to do.

I wish it was easier to tell when one person’s right becomes another person’s restriction. For me this feels intuitively simple, but maddeningly difficult to systematize. If you have a system, please share it with me. It will probably end up in my post next year.

My social libertarian streak comes from my belief in precedent utilitarianism. Precedent utilitarianism is basically a hybrid of rule and act utilitarianism. It acknowledges that many actions, especially those by taken by our government and leaders, set precedents that other people follow. Precedents you set are always transformed to the axioms of the people who witness them being set. If Prime Minister Trudeau were to remove a Supreme Court justice for being too conservative, the precedent he would be setting for future for conservative prime ministers wouldn’t be “it is okay to remove judges that are dangerously behind the times” (even if that was Trudeau’s explicit intention), it would be “it is okay to remove judges I disagree with”. I feel like the only way to avoid a horrible yo-yo of morality laws is to leave private morality as a private matter and respect that people have a variety of different beliefs and values.

I think that precedent utilitarianism looks favourable on human rights laws and I think Canada has an unusually good set of protected characteristics. I disagree with libertarians who find the human rights codes an unacceptable check on freedoms. I’m glad we have a set of protected characteristics that both protect vulnerable people from direct harm and protect society from tit-for-tat retaliation as various in-groups are threatened.

I do sometimes find my support for protected characteristics hard to square with my firm belief that the government shouldn’t enforce morality. I think that the precedent utilitarian argument for a government that doesn’t legislate morality but does vigourously enforce rights, including protection from discrimination, is probably best summed up by Scott Alexander in the essay In Favour of Niceness, Community, and Civilization. When the government stands up for rights, it is reminding people that they will be much better off if they avoid negative sum exchanges (like reciprocal discrimination) and instead focus on positive sum exchanges.

Delta

The change since I last took this test (2-3 years ago) is about +4 on the economic axis and +0.5 on the libertarian axis.

I think the change on the authoritarian/libertarian axis is driven by my increasing patriotism. All government is composed of trade-offs. I am such a product of the Canadian trade-offs that I could not countenance living long term (or raising children) in a country other than Canada.

Changes on the economic axis were driven by my changing opinions about socialism. A few years ago my thoughts were: “maybe this could work”. My current thoughts are more: “socialism: the correct answer for the post-scarcity future, where its propensity for famines will no longer be a problem”. A combination of In Due Course and Slate Star Codex convinced me that capitalism is our best bet for getting to that post-scarcity future.

Predictions

Looking directly at my current positions themselves, I don’t expect them to change much over the next year. Given that I recall feeling that way last time I took this test, I’m inherently skeptical of that intuition.

Taking just the past into account, I should expect my positions to change regardless of how I feel about them. Taking everything into account, here’s where I think I will be at the end of May 2018:

  1. I will have an economic score > -2.25: 50%
  2. I will have an economic score > -4.25: 80%
  3. My top level economic identity will still be “capitalist”: 80%
  4. I will have an authority score > -7.56: 70%
  5. I will have an authority score < -5.56: 90%
  6. My top level social identity will still be “libertarian”: 90%

Footnotes:

[1] Bank runs used to be a fact of life. Whenever anyone got hint of any trouble at a bank, they’d rush to it and pull all of their money out, to protect against losing it in the event the bank failed. Unfortunately, this often caused banks to fail, because everyone had an incentive to try and pull all their money out at the slightest hint of insecurity. If they didn’t, they’d risk losing it when other people ran to the bank to do the same. Old banks are imposing to give people a sense that their money is safe there. Ever wondered why bank runs just stopped happening in developed countries? Turns out it’s because the government started to insure deposits. Once you know that your money will be safe no matter what, you no longer have any incentive to withdraw it at the first sign of trouble. ^

Model, Politics, Quick Fix

Some thoughts on Canadian “family values” conservatives

I’d like to expand on one of the points I raised yesterday about Canadian social conservatives and the sorts of things they can expect from Andrew Scheer, because I think the Canadian approach to “family values” conservatism is desperately under-theorized.

Yesterday I claimed that the main way that Harper pushed so-called family values was through economic incentives to have a 1950s-style nuclear family. Both income splitting and the Universal Child Care Benefit were designed to make it more feasible to have a single income family.

This is a radically different tack than taken by American family values candidates, who primarily exercise their beliefs by banning sex education, fighting against gay marriage and adoption, and restricting access to abortion [1]. The American approach attempts to close off all alternatives but a heterosexual, monogamous, child-producing marriage. The Canadian approach is to bribe people into this (and to drop the heterosexual part).

The cynical explanation for the policies pushed by Harper is that they represent a tax break for the favoured constituencies of the Conservatives. But this strikes me both as deeply uncharitable and uncorroborated by statements made by members of the Conservative Party.

At the Conservative Leadership Convention, the party devoted as much time to thanking J.P. Veitch (Rona Ambrose’s fiancé) as they did to thanking Rona Ambrose. They thanked J.P. for putting Rona’s career aspirations above his own and for his tireless support of her in her role as interim party leader.

Can you imagine the Liberals taking the time to thank Sophie Grégoire Trudeau for her work supporting her husband? The liberal individualistic notion of liberation tends to gloss over and thereby systemically devalue the work that supportive spouses do. To liberals (even many socialist liberals), work is where people go for self-actualization. Self-actualization can’t exist in the home.

There are sound reasons for this emphasis. While the Conservative tax breaks are gender neutral (and apply even to gay marriages), no one believes that the majority of stay at home spouses will be men. There certainly won’t be no men staying home – I consider myself generally more likely to stay home with kids than any partner I’m plausibly going to have – but they’ll be a minority.

As a free choice, the home is a reasonable option for many people. But as a prescribed social role, being stay-at-home mothers made many women incredibly miserable. Emancipation through work as the default seems to me as a not-unreasonable reaction to this trauma. But conservatives have ideological reasons to oppose the social structures that make dual-income families possible.

In Rona Ambrose’s farewell speech, she clearly articulated the core disagreement between Canadian liberals and conservatives. “Liberals believe in government”, she said, “but we believe in people”. I’d rephrase this slightly – liberals believe in institutions, while conservatives believe in individuals.

Viewed through this lens, it makes sense that Conservatives wish to return child-rearing to the sphere of the domestic. Key policies planks of Canadian leftists – like all day Kindergarten and $15 a day daycare – instead seek to further remove child-rearing from individual parents and move it into a formalized institutional system.

Both of these approaches have their strengths and weaknesses. It is beginning to look like starting school early may lead to inattention and hyperactivity. If daycare is like school, then proposals like $15 a day daycare have the potential to be incredibly damaging. With income splitting and child tax benefits, we could be encouraging parents to delay formal schooling, thereby avoiding the negative consequences associated with an early school start.

On the other hand, it’s uncommon, even with income splitting and child tax benefits, for one spouse to have an income that could plausibly support their entire family. $15 dollar a day daycare would be a boon to low-income families that are caught in the dual-income trap.

There’s no prescription here. I think some parts of the family values platform threaten to turn back important progress. I think other parts hint at a potential for better outcomes than we currently have. I will point out that it seems almost as if Canadian conservatives listened to liberals who pointed out that if they really cared about reducing abortion rates, they’d cover prenatal healthcare, maternity leave, and make it less expensive to raise a child.

I’d much rather have a political conversation about the amount of tax benefits we should give to people with children than I would about women’s right to choose, so I can’t help but be thankful that the Canadian Overton window is what it is. With Andrew Scheer elected as conservative leader and signalling no intention to wade into the debate over abortion, I think we really can call the Overton Window settled in its current configuration [2]. This leaves all Canadians with a question. How much do you think the government should subsidize nuclear families?

I’m not yet sure of the answer myself.

Footnotes

[1] I want to be clear that I’m talking about execution here, not beliefs. Canadian social conservatives believe many of the same things as American so-cons and vote remarkably similarly to their American counterparts when they’re in opposition. The key difference is how they behave when they’re in power. Nine years of Conservative governments (four of which saw the Conservatives as the majority party) brought no change in the legal status of gay rights or abortion in Canada. That would be unprecedented in America.  ^

[2] On Facebook, I said: “If the trend is that Liberals/NDP push [our] social policies of choice and the Cons don’t roll them back, then we still win in the long run.” I stand by that statement. I would prefer that Conservatives were as enthusiastic about pushing for positive social change as I am. Given that I don’t live in that world, I’ll settle for one where conservative politicians don’t to push back.  ^

Politics

Five Things I Learned from the Conservative Leadership Race (that all Canadians should take note of)

Yesterday generic conservative Andrew Scheer was crowned leader of the Conservative Party of Canada in a nail-biting 14 ballot process. His margin of victory over the libertarian Maxime Bernier was less than 2%.

Reuters managed to get pretty much everything about this story subtly wrong, from the number of votes political observers expected – by the final week, most of us remembered that there were so many low support candidates that it would probably go to the very final ballot – to Scheer’s position in the party. Reuters has Scheer pegged as a social conservative, whereas people watching the race were much more likely to describe him as the compromise candidate.

The Conservative Leadership race was one of the high points of my engagement in Canadian politics. I haven’t been this engaged since the 2011 election (I was out of country for the 2015 election which limited my involvement to mailing in a ballot). Focusing so closely on this leadership race, I’ve was surprised (although I probably shouldn’t have been) by just how much politics goes on under the surface and just how little actually filters up through the media.

Sometimes the things that don’t filter up are silly. The media never really mentioned that Steven Blaney sent out an email with the subject line: “Should Allah kill all the Jews?”. This is understandable; Blaney never was a serious contender for the leadership and his ridiculous emails would have been a distraction. Many in the media also underestimated the number of votes for Erin O’Toole that would transfer to Andrew Scheer once O’Toole was eliminated. This was a harder mistake to make when you were getting emails from every candidate; from the emails that O’Toole and Scheer were sending me, it was obvious that their internal polling had picked up on this correlation. Paying attention to things like this are what let me correctly predict Andrew Scheer would win.

With this in mind, I’d like to report some the things I learned watching this race and this convention. These are things that may or may not be reported, but I think they are deeply important for understanding Canadian politics going forward.

1. No one knows what to do with ranked ballots

In my last post on the leadership, I guessed that the race would last a few ballots. This was a very silly prediction to make, because it was obvious who the first six candidates to be eliminated would be. It was also obvious that together they had less than 5% of the total support. For the convention to be over after that few ballots, the front runner would have to have more than 45% support. Polling clearly showed Bernier (the front-runner for most of the race) at only 30%, so there was no way that the thing could have been decided that quickly.

I wasn’t the only one who made this error. The Conservative Party forecasted we’d have final results around 6:00PM. Final results weren’t available until around 8:15PM. Some of this was attributable to a forty-five-minute delay caused by technical issues, but most of this was because the thing went to the very last ballot.

The intuition that the leadership race should be decided in a few rounds comes from party conventions that use delegates. The last two contested Canadian conventions with delegates both went to four ballots. But a mail in instant run-off system is very different from delegate convention. There is little opportunity to gather momentum and no opportunity for politicians to blink. In a delegate convention, Scheer could have panicked in the 11th round and conceded to Bernier in exchange for some cabinet position. The mail in ranked ballots gave him no such option.

Ranked ballots differ even more significantly from the American system of sequential primary elections. Primaries suffer from the standard problem of first past the post systems; you often only need a plurality to win. This benefits the front runner, especially when “the establishment” can’t coalesce around a single candidate. Ranked ballots give the establishment no choice but to eventually coalesce. If the Republican primary had been decided by mail-in ranked ballots, it seems very likely that Jeb Bush, Marco Rubio, or Ted Cruz would have won instead of Trump.

In addition to talking heads used to other systems, ranked ballots also present a challenge to pollsters, who are used to asking people merely for the name of the candidate they most support. Even the polls that asked for multiple preferences rarely asked for preferences beyond third place. This can fall apart at the end of the convention when votes may have been transferred four or five times (e.g. from Raitt, to Chong, to O’Toole, to Scheer) or have skipped over some of the preferences (e.g. votes from Chong supporters who put Raitt second, O’Toole third, and Scheer fourth and saw their votes ultimately transferred to Scheer).

Kevin O’Leary claimed in the live convention coverage that he and Bernier had polled all the way down to the 10th choice (at ruinous expense). If this is true (and with Kevin, who knows), it’s likely that some of the other top fundraisers did this as well. That’s why I highlighted candidate’s emails as a vital tool for understanding the race. From their exhortations, I could often get an idea of the information they were going on.

If public polling can’t adapt to ranked ballots, then it will probably become necessary (for anyone who wants to correctly predict an election outcome) to spend more time reading the messages campaigns send to supporters to try and indirectly get high quality proprietary polling numbers. Unfortunately, reading emails and trying to figure out the information that went into them is much more of a black art than polling and it’s much harder to justify the information that comes out of it.

2. Canadian Conservatives aren’t Republicans

In Rona Ambrose’s farewell speech, she presented a narrative of Conservatives as defenders of the rights of women and girls. She pointed out that that first woman to serve in a cabinet was a member of the Conservative Party. She pointed out that the first (and only) female prime minister of Canada was a Conservative. She also talked about her work at the UN pushing for an International Day of the Girl and her work pressuring the government to admit Yazidi refugees fleeing religious persecution and sexual slavery at the hands of ISIL. When she mentioned that she’d forced the government to admit more refugees, she was given a rousing round of applause.

The stigma that sexual assault survivors face and the disgustingly high rate of sexual assault cases that are labelled unfounded were the focus of one section of one of the campaign debates. Luckily, there was basically no debate among the candidates on this issue. All of them pledged to improve police education and work to reduce the “unfounded rate”.

If you follow American politics, you might be surprised by things like this from a conservative party.

Canada and America are geographically and culturally proximate. It’s easy to pretend that the differences between the two countries are largely cosmetic. But when you do, you’re liable to get bitten in the ass by the iceberg of hidden differences.

Canadian conservatism is different than American conservatism. In the Conservative Party of Canada, you’ll get more votes calling for a carbon tax than you will if you call for increased screening of immigrants. Can you imagine that being true in America?

I don’t mean to claim that xenophobia and racism don’t exist in the Conservative Party of Canada. Kellie Leitch did get 9% of the vote. But for now, the xenophobic wing of the party is perhaps the least powerful part of the Canadian conservative coalition.

3. Social Conservatism is (kind of) alive and well

Unlike the xenophobic candidates, who did much worse than anyone feared, the social conservative candidates ran significantly ahead of expectations. Pierre Lemieux and Brad Trost had combined polling numbers of 9.5% right before the election. In the first round of voting, many of us were surprised to see that their actual support was a combined 15.7%. When Trost was eliminated in the 11th ballot, he had 14.3% of the remaining support (evidence that almost all of Lemieux’s voters went to him).

A year ago, the Conservatives voted to remove any policy on the definition of marriage from their platform. Social conservatives were outraged but impotent. Their higher than expected support for Trost and Lemieux was their way of reminding the party that they exist.

Unfortunately for those members, social conservative policies are a delicate topic in Canadian politics. The Harper doctrine was to avoid the risky issues (like gay marriage and abortion) that risked undermining his chances of winning elections, while cautiously advancing policies that supported two-parent nuclear families (even the gay ones).

At the start of this leadership race, when Andrew Scheer was asked about his views on gay marriage, his answer was all pragmatism. While he is personally against gay marriage, he said “I don’t think you’d find any legitimate Conservative leadership aspirant who would revisit that issue”. His position on abortion is similar.

In his victory speech, Scheer obliquely referenced these views. “There’s… some issues that will divide our caucus and divide our movement and that [don’t] enjoy widespread support in the general public, but there are other areas… that the entire conservative movement can get behind.”

Taken together, all of this signals that the Harper doctrine is alive and well. Social conservatives won’t be getting action on abortion or gay marriage but they can expect Scheer to do his best to strengthen what they consider a traditional family structure. If Scheer is prime minister, expect to see policies like income splitting that blatantly favour married couples, especially couples where one parents stays home with children.

Bernier wasn’t willing to provide even this, which is probably why social conservatives broke for Scheer in the end, giving him the victory. Social conservatives ultimately didn’t get everything they wanted, but it seems like they managed to get the best of their realistic options.

4. Caucus Support

Had Bernier won, I think his leadership would have looked a lot like Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership of the UK Labour Party. Both men have excessive amounts of ideological purity and a limited amount of support among the MPs of their party. This has made trying to control his party difficult for Corbyn and I see no reason why Bernier would have had an easier time of it.

Andrew Scheer is much more in the mold of Teresa May or Steven Harper. He has very strong support in the caucus; he was second only to Erin O’Toole in endorsements and is so similar to O’Toole on most issues that he should have no problem picking up O’Toole’s support.

The line “there’s been a rising tide of anti-establishment sentiment in recent elections” has become cliché. Everyone has heard a dozen times about how Brexit, Trump, and the French election prove that people are fed up with the political establishment.

Well, just as Canada was supposedly immune to the “rising tide of illiberalism”, we appear to be immune (for now) to the “rising tide of anti-establishment sentiment”. Andrew Scheer was very much of the political establishment. None of his policies represent a break with the policies of the Harper years.

This bodes well for Scheer’s ability to actually get shit done (and therefore poorly for the Liberals). Scheer understands how parliament works. He understands how the conservative caucus thinks. He’s young and energetic. He will hit the ground running and won’t complain to the media in six months that the job was much harder than he thought it would be.

Some of the above would have been true for Leitch or Bernier. None of it would have been true for O’Leary. Only time will tell if is better to be effective at managing a political party than it is to be “not a politician” or to have a clear ideology.

5. The Conservative Party of Canada is still Harper’s party

Steven Harper has been almost entirely absent from Canadian politics since his election defeat in 2015. It’s a startling change for the man who was the Conservative Party of Canada. For all of his flaws (and he has many), Harper was an ambitious and driven leader who decided on a goal and then moved heaven and earth to make it happen. He engineered the merger between the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada and the Reform Party, won control of the resulting party, and then led it into five elections. In four of those elections, the party came out better than it went in.

In the Harper years, even cabinet seemed to be a mere extension of the Prime Minister’s will. The discipline with which cabinet ministers stuck to their script was occasionally farcical, like when Paul Calandra answered a question about Iraq with prepared remarks about an NDP fundraiser’s statements about Israel.

Maxime Bernier would have represented a break with the Harper legacy. He’s a committed libertarian with many policy proposals that differ from the sort of thing Harper would endorse, chief among them his pledge to scrap the Canada Health Act and end transfer payments to the provinces for healthcare.

Ideologically, Harper probably agrees with scrapping the CHA. But Harper was ever the ruthless pragmatist, always subordinating his personal ideology to the demands of getting elected. He wouldn’t have touched the widely popular CHA with a ten-foot poll.

Based on Scheer’s responses to questions about abortion and gay marriage, I can’t see him governing substantially differently than Harper. The Conservative party will continue Harper’s legacy of slowly and incrementally dismantling the Canadian welfare state, while avoiding nearly all contentious topics. With Scheer, Harper is effectively controlling the party from beyond the political grave.

I think I narrowly prefer Scheer to Bernier. Bernier seems unelectable, but if he were to win it would be an absolute disaster for the Canadians and provinces who rely on the Federal government for assistance. Scheer is probably more electable, but much more incrementalist. He represents a creeping threat to the welfare state, rather than an immediately existential threat.

I joined the Conservative Party to influence their leadership race away from high variance candidates, even those candidates who I thought would be safely defeated in the general election. Last year’s election in America taught me I couldn’t put my faith in certain candidates being “doomed outside the primaries”.

I’d have preferred Chong. But I think I can live with Harper era policies repackaged with a smile.

Literature, Politics

Book Review: Strangers in Their Own Land

I just finished Professor Arlie Hochschild’s latest book, “Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right”, a book some people are trumpeting as the one that explains Trump.

That wasn’t exactly how I read the book. I think Trump’s win is well explained by some combination of the “fundamentals” and the Comey Letter just before the election. I’m also wary of falling into the trap of drawing conclusions about America because Trump won. The result of the election could have been changed by dozens of random events. I’m following Scott Alexander’s advice and not basing my narratives off of which potential events happened to actually happen.

Besides, Trump is barely even in this book. He only appears in any substantive way in the last chapter and Prof. Hochschild doesn’t devote much ink to him. If you’re using this book to explain Trump, you’re going to have to do a lot of the work yourself.

At its core, Strangers in Their Own Land is an ethnography about a specific group of people with all of the advantages and perils that entails. We get to learn a lot about its subjects, but we have to be careful whenever applying any of its conclusions beyond the small group of people actually profiled.

Like any ethnography, Strangers in Their Own Land lives or dies by the interest the author can evoke in her subjects. Here, the subjects are a small group of Louisiana Tea Party members. Prof. Hochschild certainly managed to make me interested in them by using them as a lens through which to peer at the “Great Paradox” of American Politics: why do many of those who could most benefit from the government hate it so much?

I’ve forayed into discussions of the Great Paradox before. Like Prof. Hochschild, I’m skeptical of the purported “two rungs up” explanation of the paradox. It goes like this: yes, lower income counties tend to vote against government programs, but it is not actually the people on those programs (or their loved ones) voting against them. People relying on government programs rarely actually vote. Actual voters in Republican-leaning counties are better off and are voting solely for lower taxes.

By focusing Strangers in Their Own Land on pollution, Prof. Hochschild was able to sidestep this explanation. Pollution doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor – one of the more heartbreaking stories in the book is about a nine-year-old who died from a rare neuroblastoma, which everyone suspects was caused by pollution. Despite this, his well-off parents and well-off family friends continued to oppose the EPA.

A focus on pollution made Louisiana the obvious setting for this book. It’s one of the most polluted states in America and has some of the weakest and most ineffectually enforced environmental laws. Louisiana also has a very high rate of welfare use, which let Prof. Hochschild compare the two rungs up theory with alternatives (as she could count on finding people who were or knew someone on welfare).

In Louisiana, Prof. Hochschild found no one who was happy about pollution. The Tea Party voters she interviewed loved the outdoors. Many of them grew up hunting and fishing and almost all of them continued to cherish those outdoor pastimes in adulthood. It hurt them deeply to have no game to hunt or to be unable to eat the fish they caught. Yet still they opposed more regulations on pollution.

Reasons for this varied. Some believed that regulating pollution would hurt the oil and gas industry and lead to unemployment. They were saddened by the effects of pollutions on the environment, but they refused to put the environment ahead of other people.

Others believed that the government was (indirectly) responsible for pollution. They saw the government as protecting the worst polluters while coming down hard on any “little guy” who leaked even a tiny amount of gas from his boat. They believed that any additional regulations would be applied to them and their friends, not to the big companies responsible for the real pollution. They figured that the free market would disincentivize pollution well enough if the government could just leave everything alone and let it work.

Yet others were religious and figured that the world would not be around for much longer. They saw God’s commandment in Genesis 1:28 (“fill the earth, and subdue it”) as justification for any pollution in the interim. Even justifying pollution wasn’t very important for the faithful though; they cared far more about a rapture they saw as close to hand than they did about any worldly concerns.

No one that Prof. Hochschild talked to said: “yes, the government could fix this, but we don’t want them to”. Instead, she got responses like “the EPA would just use whatever power we gave it to take away our freedoms”, or “the government can’t help, it’s in the pockets of the polluters and hates the little guys like us”; none of the Tea Party voters trusted the government.

Prof. Hochschild was used to people distrusting certain government figures or departments, while still believing that good government was possible, necessary, and worth fight for. Here Prof. Hochschild saw people so used to incompetent, hostile, or distant government that they had given up hope that good government could ever exist for them. Prof. Hochschild immediately wanted to know how this could happen.

She found that religious people tended to see the government as usurping the traditional role of the church. They thought that ensuring the welfare of members of a community should be the responsibility of that community. With welfare, the government was destroying the bonds that held communities together. They viewed the liberal tendency to leave the care of the poor to a central bureaucracy as evidence of a terrible culture of neglect and moral bankruptcy.

Some adherents of capitalism saw the government as the enemy. To them, job creation and economic dynamism came from private enterprise, which the government stifled through bureaucracy, regulation, and taxes.

Other interview subjects saw the government as taking their money and giving it to people who were unlike them, people outside of their communities. They thought they’d done everything right, played by the book, suffered, yet still found prosperity elusive. They worked long hours for scant compensation, while not far away, the government was just giving away money to single mothers – who they viewed as hedonistic sinners who had far more children than was reasonable. Factually incorrect beliefs about the number of children people on welfare had or the percentage of the population that was on welfare were rampant in this group.

This isn’t to say that everyone fell into one of these categories. Many people combined beliefs. It actually reminded me of a point Joseph Heath made in light of the sex education controversy in Ontario – when social conservatives realize they can’t get the regressive solution they want (everyone forced to live by their values), they tend to swing to the other extreme and ask for ultra-liberal solutions. They may most prefer the government forcing everyone to have their values, but absent that, they’d rather the government force no one to do anything, so that it can’t force them to give up their values.

I should also mention that not all Tea Partiers ignored the consequences of pollution. Strangers in Their Own Land also profiles Tea Partiers who cared about pollution, viewed it as a pressing issue, and advocated for the Tea Party to make pollution one of its core principles. They echoed something I heard in some of the Conservative Party of Canada leadership debates: “conservation is a conservative principle.”

Still, it was hard to take the anti-pollution Tea Party activists too seriously. They want to solve a collective action problem with the free market. Solving collective action problems with the free market is a bit like doing surgery with a pizza cutter. It’s not that it’s impossible, strictly speaking. It’s just that there are ways of doing it (in this case, via government) that are far less messy and far more likely to give the desired outcome.

It’s hard not to feel like the conservatives in this book are being betrayed by the industries they stand up for. One of the Tea Partiers who actually cared about pollution cared because his house was ruined in the Bayou Corne Sinkhole. Even as he stood up against pollution, he continued to advocate for a freer market, fear the EPA, and vote Republican. All of this has counted for nothing with Texas Brine, the company responsible for the disaster. It continues to drag its feet on the class action lawsuit launched by residents.

Further to this point, Prof. Hochschild dug up a damning report, prepared at the behest of the California Waste Management Board by some very fancy (and expensive!) consultants. The report identifies communities that won’t complain about “locally undesirable land use” (LULU), with the goal of identifying these communities so polluting (and property value lowering) activities can be more easily sited. Protests are very inconvenient for construction, after all.

Communities identified as ill-suited to resist LULU are:

  • Composed of long-time residents (who are unlikely to want to move away)
  • Small
  • High school educated
  • Catholic
  • Without a culture or history of activism
  • Involved in “nature exploitative occupations” (e.g. farming, ranching, and mining)
  • Conservative
  • Republican
  • Primarily peopled by advocates of the free market

The communities where Prof. Hochschild did her research hit basically every single one of these criteria. This prompted some introspection on her part, as realized that one of the ways that her home of Berkeley is able to avoid substantial pollution is by foisting the negative externalities of modern life (like pollution) off onto communities like those in poor, rural Louisiana.

The back of the book purports to contain an analysis that shows that communities where people are more conservative (and more likely to believe that pollution isn’t a problem) are more polluted. I’m cautious of adopting the conclusions from it though, because conclusions are all it contains. From those, it’s clear that multiple hypothesis could have been easily tested [1] but unclear whether or not this was specifically controlled for. Without being able to look at the raw data or see the analysis methodology, I can’t tell if the correlation is likely real or a statistical artifact.

I will beg the question for a bit though, because Prof. Hochschild treats the correlation as real and spends some time explaining it. I think her explanations are interesting enough to talk about, even if they may be based on a flawed analysis.

Prof. Hochschild doesn’t put willingness to endure pollution down to the poor ignorant workers being deceived by the big dastardly corporations, a change from leftist discourse that I found refreshing. Instead she focuses on stories and teams.

Prof. Hochschild believes that the people of the south are (in general) conditioned to look forward, towards what were historically the planter elite and are now the resource extraction executives. They want to be like the most fortunate people in their communities and so support the same things they do. When liberals tell them they should be looking backwards and trying to help people less fortunate than them, this feels like an attempt to enforce foreign feeling rules. They feel like they are being told that to be respectable or good, they must perform concern or other emotions that don’t feel genuine [2].

I’m using forward and back deliberately here. This is the book that coined the “standing in line” metaphor for the anger of white working class Americans. In this metaphor (called by Prof. Hochschild a “deep story”; a story that feels emotionally true), there is a long line stretching to the top of a hill. Just beyond the brow of it lies the American dream. The line is moving slowly (or perhaps not moving at all) and the people in it are weary from their waiting.

Despite this, they stand there, patiently waiting their turn. But something terrible happens. There are people cutting in line! From the interviews she used to construct this metaphor, Prof. Hochschild identified the line cutters as African-Americans using affirmative action, women taking traditionally male jobs, immigrants working more cheaply than American whites are willing to, and (somewhat amusingly) pelicans, protected by environmental laws that were killing jobs. While the people standing in line expected the government (personified by Barack Obama) to do something about the line cutters, they were horrified to instead see President Obama helping and supporting them.

I want to make it clear that this isn’t something that either Professor Hochschild or I believe is literally happening. When it comes to the actual suffering of the people interviewed in this book, Professor Hochschild is inclined to blame big business interests, while I think the blame belongs more to a changing economy and automation (there is of course significant overlap between these two causes). When it comes to pollution, we’re in agreement that Louisiana would really benefit from tougher environmental laws coupled with more rigorous enforcement of its existing regulations.

Even though I believe there is no real displacement, no cutting in line, this metaphor seemed to resonate with many of the Tea Partiers interviewed in this book. To those people, the government is betraying them, working against them for another team. This makes them utterly incapable of trusting the government (with the exception of the military) and makes them incredibly defensive of people they do feel are on their team, like Louisiana’s petrochemical industry, one of the few sources of jobs that feel ennobling for them in the state.

Like I mentioned earlier, the communities where Prof. Hochschild conducted her research also relied heavily on the government. Nearly everyone Prof. Hochschild interviewed was on some form of welfare, had been on some form of welfare, or had a family member who was currently or had in the past been on some form of welfare. No one was particularly happy about this though. People did what they had to survive, but there was much more honour in going it alone. They viewed work as inherently ennobling and accepting anonymous charity as shameful, the sort of Calvinist curse that seems to be common on the American psyche.

This actually reminded me of a topic that frequently popped up on Freddie de Boer’s now deleted blog [3]. Freddie was constantly worried that conspicuous consumerism was ruining the left. Freddie was apt to point out that there is a class of modern leftist that acts as if the important political projects of the left can be accomplished if they only signal their “woke” views hard enough, signalling primarily accomplished by consuming the correct media. Imagine, as an example, someone who is enthusiastic about Hamilton as if it were a meaningful political or institutional blow for leftist interests.

For both “woke” consumerist leftist cliques and Tea Party libertarians, the best off are able to buy virtue (or at least status), while the less fortunate have the misery of want compounded with the misery of failing to live up to an ideal that is predicated on a certain amount of disposable income (Hamilton tickets aren’t cheap, after all).

As much as the standing in line narrative has gotten air time, I want to caution against believing it as a universal motivating factor in Trump’s voters or working class whites more generally. Because this book is more an ethnography than anything else, it would be improper to take its conclusions, conclusions made about very small group of Tea Party activists and apply those conclusions across a country as varied and vast as the United States.

Strangers in Their Own Land doesn’t include polling data; it’s unclear how many of the people who supported Trump share the “deep story” presented by Prof. Hochschild. Remember, many of Trump’s voters decided at the last-minute and many of those last-minute voters voted more against Clinton than for Trump (due to Comey’s letter).

One hint that the views expressed by Prof. Hochschild’s subjects are niche comes from their near complete abhorrence of government programs. Polls of the American public mark this view as an anomaly, even in a country that voted ~46% Republican. In 2015, 83% of Americans said Social Security was very important. 77% said the same thing about Medicare, and 75% said it about federal aid to public schools. A “mere” 73% said the military was very important. It would probably be incorrect to take the views of the Tea Partiers who want to cut these programs and represent them as common.

It’s also important to remember just how much of Trump’s victory came from evangelicals voting solely (or mostly) out of the belief that Republicans stand against abortion. 81% of evangelicals (who comprise a full quarter of the US electorate) voted for Trump. We don’t need some new narrative to explain why groups like this voted for the Republican nominee; they’ve voted reliably for Republicans in every election that Pew has stats for.

Despite my quibbles, Strangers in Their Own Land was a fascinating portrait of the deep divisions in America and Prof. Hochschild was an excellent narrator. She consistently fought to react with empathy, even to people she disagreed with on virtually everything. When a woman named Madonna told her that she loved Rush Limbaugh because he stood up to Femi-Nazis, Prof. Hochschild (the feminist writer who coined the terms “emotional labour” and “the second shift”) invited her out to lunch because “it seemed like it would be interesting”. Nowhere in this book did Prof. Hochschild exhibit scorn or a sense of superiority.

I think it’s important to note that Professor Hochschild hasn’t sold this book as a complete explanation for Trump. That’s on a media that desperately wants a single easy story to hold on to. Strangers in Their Own Land doesn’t contain that singular story, but it does hold one fascinating piece of it.

One thing that may have helped Prof. Hochschild connect with the Tea Party members she interviewed was her own rootedness. The clash between cosmopolitan (multicultural, migratory, and individualist) and local (homogenous, traditional, and community-oriented) values was every bit as on display as the clash between right and left. Reading the acknowledgments section, I was struck by just how rooted in Berkeley Prof. Hochschild is. She has a small legion of friends and acquaintances and (one assumes) a deep web of interdependency with them.

Prof. Hochschild seems to be neither migratory, nor caught up in the atomization of society. Several of the people she interviewed directly critique this atomization and its corresponding effect on the breakdown of systems of mutual aid and support. Prof. Hochschild, by virtue of her position in a vibrant community (as well as her previous work that has touched on atomization) was well positioned to understand these critiques of the contemporary cosmopolitan.

I know that myself (and many other cosmopolitan-leaning liberals) have begun to feel the pain that can come with our migratory impulses. I abandoned a graduate degree, in part because it took me away from a community I had grown to love. For all that I often found myself completely disagreeing with the Tea Party members profiled in this book, I was glad to find that I might be able to talk with them about the benefits of community. I’m not sure if that would be enough of a starting point to convince them of anything substantial – rootedness and community are just one axis of (dis)agreement, just one part of the story – but it’s where I would start if I ever had to build a bridge to these strangers in their own land.

Footnotes

[1] Specifically, Prof. Hochschild looked for correlations between agreement with the statements “people worry too much about progress harming the environment”, “industrial air pollution is dangerous to the environment”, “the U.S. does enough to protect the environment”, and “Some people think that the government in Washington is trying to do too many things that should be left to individuals and private businesses”, political affiliation (Democrat/Republican), and pollution rates. Her analysis found that agreement with the statement “people worry too much about progress harming the environment” (as well as membership in the Republican party) was correlated with relative risk of being exposed to toxic chemical release. Because I don’t even have the P values these were significant at, let alone knowledge of how they corrected for multiple comparisons and how many comparisons were attempted, I have to treat the correlation as liable to be caused by chance. ^

[2] I think Prof. Hochschild could have done a bit more analysis around feelings rules, because in my experience, they cut both ways. As far as I can tell, there seem to be one set of local feelings rules and another set of cosmopolitan feeling rules. Cosmopolitan feelings rules emphasize charity and welcoming the stranger, while local feelings rules emphasize responsibility to family and community. In both cases, it is grating to feel compelled to pretend to emotions that aren’t genuine. ^

[3] I can’t find any remnants of Freddie’s blog that make the point I’m ascribing to him, but if you want to get an idea of the tone of it, I’ve found an excerpt from the post “Our Nightmare”, which talks about a different way he feels the left is under threat. Freddie is an excellent writer, and I do recommend checking out his current blog, The ANOVA. ^

Biology, Politics

Medicine, the Inside View, and Historical Context

If you don’t live in Southern Ontario or don’t hang out in the skeptic blogosphere, you will probably have never heard the stories I’m going to tell today. There are two of, both about young Ontarian girls. One story has a happier ending than the other.

First is Makayla Sault. She died two years ago, from complications of acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She was 11. Had she completed a full course of chemotherapy, there is a 75% chance that she would be alive today.

She did not complete a full course of chemotherapy.

Instead, after 12-weeks of therapy, she and her parents decided to seek so-called “holistic” treatment at the Hippocrates Health Institute in Florida, as well as traditional indigenous treatments. . This decision killed her. With chemotherapy, she had a good chance of surviving. Without it…

There is no traditional wisdom that offers anything against cancer. There is no diet that can cure cancer. The Hippocrates Health Institute offers services like Vitamin C IV drips, InfraRed Oxygen, and Lymphatic Stimulation. None of these will stop cancer. Against cancer all we have are radiation, chemotherapy, and the surgeon’s knife. We have ingenuity, science, and the blinded trial.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you. If they are profiting from the treatments they offer, then they are profiting from death as surely as if they were selling tobacco or bombs.

Makayla’s parents were swindled. They paid $18,000 to the Hippocrates Health Institute for treatments that did nothing. There is no epithet I possess suitable to apply to someone who would scam the parents of a young girl with cancer (and by doing so, kill the young girl).

There was another girl (her name is under a publication ban; I only know her by her initials, J.J.) whose parents withdrew her from chemotherapy around the same time as Makayla. She too went to the Hippocrates Health Institute. But when she suffered a relapse of cancer, her parents appear to have fallen out with Hippocrates. They returned to Canada and sought chemotherapy alongside traditional Haudenosaunee medicine. This is the part of the story with a happy ending. The chemotherapy saved J.J.’s life.

When J.J. left chemotherapy, her doctors at McMaster Children’s Hospital [1] sued the Children’s Aid Society of Brant. They wanted the Children’s Aid Society to remove J.J. from her parents so that she could complete her course of treatment. I understand why J.J.’s doctors did this. They knew that without chemotherapy she would die. While merely telling the Children’s Aid Society this fact discharged their legal duty [2], it did not discharge their ethical duty. They sued because the Children’s Aid Society refused to act in what they saw as the best interest of a child; they sued because they found this unconscionable.

The judge denied their lawsuit. He ruled that indigenous Canadians have a charter right to receive traditional medical care if they wish it [3].

Makayla died because she left chemotherapy. J.J. could have died had she and her parents not reversed their decision. But I’m glad the judge didn’t order J.J. back into chemotherapy.

To explain why I’m glad, I first want to talk about the difference between the inside view and the outside view. The inside view is what you get when you search for evidence from your own circumstances and experiences and then apply that to estimate how you will fare on a problem you are facing. The outside view is when you dispassionately look at how people similar to you have fared dealing with similar problems and assume you will fare approximately the same.

Dr. Daniel Kahneman gives the example of a textbook he worked on. After completing two chapters in a year, the team extrapolated and decided it would take them two more years to finish. Daniel asked Seymour (another team member) how long it normally took to write a text book. Surprised, Seymour explained that it normally took seven to ten years all told and that approximately 40% of teams failed. This caused some dismay, but ultimately everyone (including Seymour) decided to preserver (probably believing that they’d be the exception). Eight years later, the textbook was finished. The outside view was dead on.

From the inside view, the doctors were entirely correct to try and demand that J.J. complete her treatment. They were fairly sure that her parents were making a lot of the medical decisions and they didn’t want J.J. to be doomed to die because her parents had fallen for a charlatan.

From an outside view, the doctors were treading on thin ice. If you look at past groups of doctors (or other authority figures), intervening with (they believe) all due benevolence to force health interventions on Indigenous Canadians, you see a chilling litany of abuses.

This puts us in a bind. Chemotherapy doesn’t cease to work because people in the past did terrible things. Just because we have an outside view that suggest dire consequences doesn’t mean science stops working. But our outside view really strongly suggests dire consequences. How could the standard medical treatment lead to worse outcomes?

Let’s brainstorm for a second:

  • J. could have died regardless of chemotherapy. Had there been a court order, this would have further shaken indigenous Canadian faith in the medical establishment.
  • A court order could have undermined the right of minors in Ontario to consent to their own medical care, with far reaching effects on trans youth or teenagers seeking abortions.
  • The Children’s Aid society could have botched the execution of the court order, leading to dramatic footage of a young screaming indigenous girl (with cancer!) being separated from her weeping family. Indigenous Canadians would have been reminded strongly of the Sixties Scoop.
  • There could have been a stand-off when Children’s Aid arrived to collect J.J.. Knowing Canada, this is the sort of thing that could have escalated into something truly ugly, with blockades and an armed standoff with the OPP or the military.

The outside view doesn’t suggest that chemotherapy won’t work. It simply suggests that any decision around forcing indigenous Canadians to receive health care they don’t want is ripe with opportunities for unintended consequences. J.J.’s doctors may have been acting out of a desire to save her life. But they were acting in a way that showed profound ignorance of Canada’s political context and past.

I think this is a weakness of the scientific and medical establishment. They get so caught up on what is true that they forget the context for the truth. We live in a country where we have access to many lifesaving medicines. We also live in a country where many of those medicines were tested on children that had been stolen from their parents and placed in residential schools – tested in ways that spit on the concept of informed consent.

When we are reminded of the crimes committed in the name of science and medicine, it is tempting to say “that wasn’t us; it was those who came before, we are innocent” – to skip to the end of the apologies and reparations and find ourselves forgiven. Tempting and so, so unfair to those who suffered (and still do suffer) because of the actions of some “beneficent” doctors and scientists. Instead of wishing to jump ahead, we should pause and reflect. What things have we done and advocated for that will bring shame on our fields in the future?

Yes, indigenous Canadians sometimes opt out of the formal medical system. So do white hippies. At least indigenous Canadians have a reason. If trips to the hospital occasionally for people that looked like me, I’d be a lot warier of them myself.

Scientists and doctors can’t always rely on the courts and on civil society to save us from ourselves. At some point, we have to start taking responsibility for our own actions. We might even have to stop sneering at post-modernism (something I’ve been guilty of in the past) long enough to take seriously its claim that we have to be careful about how knowledge is constructed.

In the end, the story of J.J., unlike that of Makayla, had a happy ending. Best of all, by ending the way it did, J.J.’s story should act as an example, for the medical system and indigenous Canadians both, on how to achieve good outcomes together.

In the story of Pandora’s Box, all of the pestilence and disease of the world sprung as demons from a cursed box and humanity was doomed to endure them ever more. Well we aren’t doomed forever; modern medicine has begun to put the demons back inside the box. It has accomplished this by following one deceptively simple rule: “do what works”. Now the challenge is to extend what works beyond just the treatments doctors choose. Increasingly important is how diseases are treated. When doctors respect their patients, respect their lived experiences, and respect the historical contexts that might cause patients to be fearful of treatments, they’ll have far more success doing what it is they do best: curing people.

It was an abrogation of duty to go to the courts instead of respectfully dealing with J.J.’s family. It was reckless and it could have put years of careful outreach by other doctors at risk. Sometimes there are things more important than one life. That’s why I’m glad the judge didn’t order J.J. back into chemo.

Footnotes:

[1] I have a lot of fondness for McMaster, having had at least one surgery and many doctors’ appointments there. ^

[2] Doctors have a legal obligation to report any child abuse they see. Under subsection 37(2)e of the Child and Family Services Act (CFSA), this includes “the child requires medical treatment to cure, prevent or alleviate physical harm or suffering, and the child’s parent refuses to consent to treatment”. ^

[3] I’m not actually sure how relevant that is here – Brian Clement is no one’s idea of an expert in Indigenous medicine and it’s not clear that this ruling still sets any sort of precedent, given that the judge later amended his ruling to “make it clear that the interests of the child must be paramount” in cases like this. ^