When we talk about economics, we generally are trying to solve the problem of getting people to feed themselves. This was a problem that didn’t come about until people started killing themselves for control of resources. We realized that these could be allocated more fairly. So we devised systems… governments… to dole out the resources to people. But governments were obviously not foolproof. Questions remained. Who would submit to governments? Why give our stuff to them? Who gets the resources and why?

People got together and came up with the solution and killed those who didn’t agree, or left them outside to starve and die: we’ll all submit to a system because it’s better than the alternative, or I’ll join your tribe because I don’t want to end up on a stick. Obviously, some made out like bandits from this transaction, namely the lazy, and some got gipped (the agressive hunters or prodigy farmers, maybe). Humans pick up on stuff like this pretty easily for some reason: the same reason you can’t get over your roommates lack of dishwashing capacity. We were kinda built for it. Yet instead of kicking out the lazy, we decided to make more efficient work of them. You “produce”, I’ll “produce” and we’ll get together and trade.

This, I think, was the first step down a long series of mistakes, that has nothing to do with the idea itself.

Systems, in general, are pretty well defined. We have bikes that work in fairly predictable ways, pipes that flow, and governments with their rules and laws that all spin around fairly predictably. Given a certain input: leg-power, water, or opinions, the output is similary well-defined. Except when it’s not. This is especially true where humans are involved. Our capacity for understanding purely physical systems if unparalleled. With a certain vector force on a pedal, the weight and aerodynamic signature of the rider, etc, I can tell you where the bike will be in 10 seconds. Wow.

Now I give you a means for people to send messages to one another. Wait ten years. Did you predict the internet? Darn.

The problem with human systems are their emergent properties, and the problem with these properties is that they are almost unpredictable. The reasoning is pretty simple. If we want to define the bike’s motion, we can examine the bike in space (cute), the bike in a physics world (fun), the bike in the “real world”, and the bike in a crowded city. Each step progressively increases the scope of potential side effects, and each step reduces our fundamental understanding of the outcomes of the system. We isolate these side effects by nullifying them, but this is rarely accurate in bigger systems. When I describe the gear of a bike are you thinking bike lanes and car accidents? Possibly. How about Bob Dylan’s 1966 bike accident? Even the question of whether or not it was staged adds to the ambiguous nature of making far-out predictions. A problem.

Yet we are endlessly enamored with this idea of simplicity, with categorization and reductions. Our minds are finite and whether or not our world is truly so is irrelevant because we shall make it so, however wrong we are. We must, they say. Economics is the height of our hubris. It aims to make humans “productive” through incentive for work. But what about the side effects? Can we even consider them? The problem with systems that involve humans is that they are by very nature unpredictable. Approximatable, but unpredictable. The problem with systems that govern humans is that they go beyond this and effect our understanding of them. Capitalism, without getting too boring, is a proper example. In its infancy, it served a very important role: governing the production and distribution of goods and services. As it matured, certain emergent properties began to make themselves visible. What people in general want will be produced, and what people want can be controlled by marketing. Marketing is fueled by consumption, sales, which inherently requires production. This is a feedback loop. The empirical data shows that people, over time, have more and are unhappier. So what? This is a good thing. The idea assembled in one, grabbbed a million heads to convince you of its efficacy. You adopted your master in a transaction you still technically control.

In the beginning, people submitted to governments because it was a good idea. They adopted economic systems to get around problems, to provide for more people. Was it a good decision? The population of the world is exploding, but may settle. The environment is getting worse, but things are looking “green”. People are unhappier, but we’re able to provide for more of their basic needs. All I will say is that the essential principle that was missing from the initial plan was that of contradiction and reevaluation.

We as people don’t need to follow a straight line, nor do we need to make the same decisions (or even cohesive ones) to keep from fracturing our identities. As time passes and more data is added, it becomes necessary to reevalute our initial decisions, to make new ones, and possibly to reroute. The mistakes we make are primarily forcing ourselves into situations that rob ourselves of the power to change our minds, or kill the will to create new opinions. The current systems are faulty because they included provisions that changed our minds about what life was, right or wrong. People are starving not because we lack the right policy, leadership, or control, but because we lack the power to be fluid with our intentions and dynamic in thought. Ideas, then, are not the enemy. People are not the enemy. The villain is the imaginary chains that bind the two.

Unedited. A little after my freshman year began here at Texas A&M (Sept. 29, 2006):

Universalism is a touchy subject for churchy people. Funny thing is, in actuality we all are, and once were: universalists.

When I was a kid, I figured everyone around me was going to go to heaven after they died. Heaven is taught a lot more than hell to kids (though some people are trying to change that), and being at least marginally far from insane as a child, I didn’t consider anyone around me to be worthy of eternal torment. The people around me were my world, and in my world, everyone went to heaven.

Just as well, in the world today there is hardly a person alive who believes in some sort of eternal dwelling and also thinks themselves unworthy of it. We’re all saved. Yet, some people will assert others are not, and the others will assert that these people are not, and you have either pluralism and confusion. That’s not a typo. Wrap your mind around that philosopher.

As I grew older, beliefs and the politics thereof crept into my mind. Dissatisfied with simple answers to huge questions (shove it Occam’s razor), I sought out more. What I got to is that the standards I had as a child were a little lax. Humanity’s standards of justice typically put serial killers and terrorists in hell, but few others. The tendency is to gradually move along the spectrum of leniency until you get to the book of Romans (I’m not reading this out of context, and yes, I understand your interpretation) where “No one is good, not one.” It’s just not fun (or worthwhile) to pursue religious activities when the fruit of your actions is no different than the non-participators.

But the thing is, deep down inside we just earnestly hope universalism is true. We don’t hope our own beliefs are false, we just hope everyone will be saved. There’s a difference, I think. Some I guess will cite the practicality of meeting the requirements of an exclusive system (one in which everyone is not saved) citing game theory (though note that no atheist will believe something simply because of the proposition that it’s better for them, beliefs don’t work that way). Others find it hard to reconcile with their particular scriptures, and others are just so entrenched in their thinking one way or the other that they refuse to open their minds to the possibility.

I think the last one is the worst. Being a church-goer myself, there is a certain element of brainwashing that does take place. I’d like to say it’s good, that they’re being indoctrinated with “truth”, but the rate at which I change my mind on pivotal issues is astounding (to me and others). Unfortunately, people are unable to look at something with any degree of objectivity, at least allowing an idea to be entertained in their heads. I’m not saying you have to even declare “hey, I’m thinking about a heretical (sometimes) idea!” but an open mind would be appreciated (just not too open, you might catch a cold).

Atheists like to call themselves “free thinkers” because they’re free from the confines of religious dogma. But most of the time, they’re confined to the religious dogma of anti-religion and atheism. I think another term used is “bright”, but it’s not widely used because it seems to be a little harsh to the religious people. I read an essay once that allowed for religious people to be “free thinkers”. Thank you.

The principle Christian fruit of the spirit is joy. Joy differs from happiness in most word definition battles, in that joy is deeper. Where happiness might come from a good day or a compliment, joy comes from almost a lifestyle. For me, in orthodox Christianity, joy is hard to come by. This may be different for other people for varying reasons, but it’s really hard to look at unbelievers and know that according to your definitions of faith, hell, and the doctrine required for salvation, they will likely end up being tormented for eternity. What they have now is the best they will ever have, and sadly, it’s hardly great.

There are sufferings of all sorts even outside of poverty. I think hardship and suffering end up affecting a person depending upon the degree in which they’ve suffered before. In that sense, the breakup that “that preppy girl” went through might be just as emotionally traumatic as going hungry for another day. Maybe even more so (gasp). That sounds ludicrous to say, but with almost all human sentiments, we feel change rather than absolutes. More like the derivatives. You can’t sense speed, but you can feel the change in speed: acceleration. Lying down to bed is almost catastrophic after a great night with friends, but after a long day of digging trenches with a hoe and shovel, it is bliss. Loneliness is killer to the stereotyped, popular person in high school. To the introverted computer nerd, it’s a way of life (and efficient at that).

It’d be pointless and hard to defend for me to say that because we’ve suffered just a bit in this life, we deserve something greater. No, that’s not what I’m saying. Nor am I saying that God’s standards are the same as our own. Whereas God is (and rightly so) offended by our unbelief, this seems like a trivial sin in light of rape and theft. But this still leaves us with a problem: a world of suffering people doomed to suffer more.

God is love. A lot of people will argue that if I, Stefan, in my imperfect love would willingly save the world (had I the power), including the people who had wronged me and hurt me, how much more would God do? I think that’s a good question. I also think the alternative deserves some thought. God created all men, knowing full well some would never get the evidence they wanted or the experience they needed to accept him (free will it up all you want, there’s still the environmental factors that effect every decision we make). And those who didn’t would be punished eternally. ?. Or how about in the most amazing show of grace the universe has ever seen, God sends himself to die for humanity (“greater love knows no man than this…”), and even though they continue to spit in his face (even the believers), he ultimately brings them all to salvation through faith in His Christ.

When I think about the latter, I get really giddy. I look out through the window that I simply adore and see people walking to get themselves drunk, or to slave away at books, or whatever. I see people who are happy, and those who are upset, small people, tall people, smart and dumb, black and white (and yellow and red), and I think of a God who will save them. I think of a God who will pull them out of this life, show them Himself, and save them through faith even though they piss on his name and pretend he doesn’t exist. I think about the God who is the savior of “all men, especially those who believe”, and finally I can look out that window and say to myself, this is joy, the fruit of the spirit. I think that makes me a hippie and an idealist.

On very rare occasions, I think we’re all thrust up into some sort of third heaven where we’re granted perspective on our lives with perfect clarity. And from that position, a lot seems useless, and the formerly useless becomes sacred. And as the mist rises we can watch our lives in a random walk, occasionally stumbling upon things vastly meaningful only to be distracted toward a new course. Why? Because critical thinking is expensive and autonomous living is cheap. Because we’re deaf to the voices that will guide us to new heights. Because we all want value in our lives, but we’re avid investors of trivialities and the mundane. Because we are scared.

I’ve always been a technical person, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand artistic expression. It’s too easy to dismiss art as naive about the world, or too vague for comprehension and integration into our own lives. But if poetry is naive, it is selectively naive, and if music is vague it’s only because life is not discretely defined. Philosophizing exists in an entirely separate world from our own, where ideas are sent to joust for relevance and internal consistency. But rare is the idea that transistions from idea to personal identity. And at least part of this problem is rooted in their specificity. By hanging on to details and euphemizing the minute, we drag ourselves to the ground where we’re tuners of the insignificant rather than captains of the big picture.

Art and free expression, in their purest and most sublime forms, mount their attack against worldviews and trample underfoot the entangling details of the debaters and dogmatists. I think this is effectual because the weapon of choice is experience, not logic or reason. Not that logic or reason are absent, but simply that we are the product of our experiences with the heaviest of subjects. A man is not made by suggestions of should, but by examples that entrance and transform him at the deepest level. When an argument is presented, it is cast to the islands to fight against incumbent ideas and logical premises. Even if it is found worthy, the journey back is difficult and rare. But experiences cannot be ignored or torn down by trivialities. Their power lies in their clear path to our hearts, minds, and identities.

You cannot brand someone with truth. Or if you can, they will not be better off for it. But you can lead someone somewhere, and that power should not be taken lightly. The most dangerous thing we can do in this world is to wall ourselves up and sing how better we are for it. Animals can learn, but they cannot change. Our freedom is found in the contrast.

If we have anywhere to go from here, it is behind the people who manage to supercede the situations we’ve hung ourselves up on. The answers to the problems of this world are not leftist, rightist, apathetic, or centrist: they are orthogonal to the difficulties themselves. We cannot draw the perpendicular without having first walked the line. And you cannot walk a line with a foot planted firmly.

I guess what I’m saying is that there is intense value in being open to experiences, in true empathy, in allowing ourselves to completely and fully feel even if it hurts. With openness, we can be wounded, grow, and ultimately changed. Without it, we are stagnant beings: flat characters in this novel of life whose safety is illusory and whose value is unique to our minds. If both where you come from and where you’re headed are in your field of vision, you’re not walking the quickest path between the two. Let go, and let’s go.

I think most people are a little puzzled by the paradox that is every insurance company claiming “average customer savings of $340!”. If this was true, people should switch from insurance provider to provider, eventually saving their way to zero. It’s not.

Let me draw an example. Here’s 3 customers, and their cost change.

-Customer A’s rates increase $300, his savings is $0.
-Customer B’s rates stay the same, his savings is $0.
-Customer C’s rates go down $300, his savings is $300.

The average savings is $100 per customer. Really, the average cost change is $0. From an economics perspective, you have no reason to change providers. Pity words don’t mean the same things they used to. I’ve spotted this in insurance ads, sales statistics, and political advertising.

I’ve always wanted to create a simulation of everything. Something that would take the placement of every atom in existence and predict what state will happen next. The question of its possibility borders on philosophical, but the idea still intrigues me.

The idea of creating computer simulations has always seemed ridiculous to me. There’s technically nothing the code can tell you that you can’t already figure out. Which is true… for very simple simulations. A good portion of the undergraduate curriculum at A&M is doing its best to describe emergent properties of systems, things that can be predicted but aren’t really obvious given the behavioral descriptions of the components. The idea that they are hinting at is software bugs, but emergent properties pop up everywhere you’d last expect them.

I have a book in my hand that has some researchers from Los Almos doing “agent based simulations” of the stock market. Nobody predicts the stock market, it just doesn’t lend itself to it. I think there are reasons for that. But when the Nasdaq decided to let people trade in cents rather than quarters of a dollar, the markets shifted drastically. If you are a genius, you might be able to guess the result from the statement of the change. I am not.

What I’d like to do is to develop a rudimentary population simulator, precisely with the purpose of proving a point. This lends itself to horrible lying through statistics, but so be it. I’ll incorporate the typical distributions of crop yields per year, the probability of large and small outbreaks of disease, the impacts of medicine and technology of lifespan and production, mortality rates due to various causes as various ages, typical birth rates by year and their correlation, etc. A lot of this stuff will be an absolute crapshoot to get right. Some of it might be really easy to obtain. The extrapololation will be inaccurate at best, and might not even agree fully with historical data. But it should offer a framework for making rough predictions of the effects on various alterations to the human condition. Will an even distribution of wealth result in less starvation? Will caps on the number of children that a couple can have actually increase the quality of life of those already born? You could even investigate “Giver” scenarios. Who knows. It could be fun.

We have such an array of resources at our disposal, with more data being calculated, created, and archived now than ever. And this is a good thing. But without actually USING that data to make decisions, we get no benefit from its existence. It seems like companies are the only ones that take advantage of this potential, and I’d like to use it to optimize something more.

We’ll see how it works, or if it fizzes out. I have a lot of grand ideas, and very little physical evidence of past ones.