• It is probably correct to say that there has never been as much pressure to reform the US Supreme Court as right now. President Biden has proposed a commission to report in 6 months on court reform, and today a number of democrats presented a bill that would lead to expanding the number of justices to 13.

    This, in itself, is interesting – the Court has looked the way it does now for a long time, and you may think that reforming it should be something one does only with great reluctance, but the reality is that the way the Republicans blocked Obama’s pick of Merrick Garland has started a chain reaction that currently is expanding into a great big fireball of reform.

    Now, this may be good or bad, but it does pose a serious question: how do you reform constitutional institutions? What should the principles be? How should you approach older institutions and their value?

    A version of this is playing out in France, where president Macron has decided to shut down ENA – l’École nationale d’administration. This school, a kingmaker institution of sorts, is now a symbol for elitism and has been challenged to the point that one of its former students – Macron – has decided to shut it down. In effect, this means shuttering an institution that has been responsible for producing the leadership of public sector France for the last 70 something years.

    How do you decide to do that? How do you think about that kind of institutional reform? The conservative response is to say you should not, you should perhaps reform at the edges and let the organization adapt, but killing it makes no sense. Yet, still, we live in a time where there is appetite for institutional reform it seems. We want to burn the old down and replace it.

    You may feel that comparing the proposals to reform the US Supreme Court and the ENA is just wrong, and that they are very different, but the core of the trend we are observing here is the same – an impatience with institutions. This impatience may well be legitimate, but it is blunt.

    There is little to no recognition of the value that the two institutions here have produced. No real discussion about the constitutional role both institutions have played. Maybe that is where this all needs to start, and maybe this is what bothers me – that we lack the ability to see the value of what has evolved over time, and believe that we, in our time, have the unique wisdom to build better.

    There is, in this, a kind of chrono-chauvinism that I worry about, a shrinking of the political moment to this present second, and no realization that the political now stretches hundreds of years back and forward in time.

    We increasingly live in a society that is ignorant of the geography of time.

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  • So, kids, when artists of old released what we called singles – individual hits – they would release a record, and that record would have the hit on one side – called the A-side, but then they would be left with the problem of what to put on the other side of the record. That seems an easy one now – just put the second hit there, right? But no: the reality of record release windows meant that you would have to release records and hits at a certain pace and packing two hits into one record would just not do.

    So you were left with what we here will term the “B-side”-opportunity.

    The B-side was the opposite side of the hit that everyone would listen to anyway so it offered an incredible opportunity of trying something zany and really exploring who you were as an artist. Take my favorite band, Depeche Mode – and yes, I am that old – and you will see exactly how this works. Depeche Mode had, especially starting from their second studio albums, an extraordinarily strong B-side game.

    They would take songs that were not on the album, and expressed a very different side of who they were and then publish those on the B-side of record, enjoying, fully, the artistic freedom offered by this weird artifactual reality. Here are a few of their B-sides that speak to how brilliantly they used that freedom.

    Now this is fun – a brilliant exploration of the expressions in synth music, toying with the strict form and the dead-pan lyrics suggesting that “this is fun” in a flat voice.

    Oberkorn it is a small town – a simply impossible piece to release in any other way! This is brilliant, but their fans would not have accepted that as a hit! But as a B-side this ended up being a song that Depeche-fans will still speak knowingly about, nodding and recognizing both the daring and the insanity of the work.

    Fools – a song that works with all the new sounds the band had collected and a slightly more quirky, but still deeply melodic, expression of the new found social and political consciousness they were exploring. “Fools don’t run away”. It then dissolves into sweet harmonies and bell-sounds.

    Work hard – here they developed the political theme more, still playing with tropes and terms, but seeking to find some kind of critical angle on the modern capitalist society. The expression here is rawer, much more direct than the songs included on Construction Time Again. It almost ends up sounding like a destillation of all the self-help literature that has drowned the modern individual in the last three or four decades – ironically!

    In your memory – this is for me the ultimate B-side. A brutal, industrial rendition of Alan Wilder’s. It captures the introvert’s crash into modern society, and seeks some point of strength in the tension between the outer and the inner – “we are the hunters, we are the hunted” – and then the ominous “place it in your memory, leave it in your past, but don’t forget”. The seed of a revenge narrative if ever there was one! I remember treasuring this B-side as if it was written for me alone.

    But not tonight – oh, I mean, I don’t know if there is any song that carries more hope than this one! It is a contrast to the darkness of Black Celebration, and it opens up a path forward for anyone who was stuck in the downward spiral of that album – even if “just for a day”. For me this was the song that brought me back from a bad breakup – set me on a path not towards healing, but the sense of freedom – with the dizzying feeling that brings – that is the only real way out of a bad break up. “Here on my own, all on my own, how good it feels to be alone tonight. And I haven’t felt so alive in years. The moon is shining in the sky, reminding me of so many other nights, when my eyes have been so red, I have been mistaken for dead – but not tonight”. I still remember walking the wet asphalt bikeways of the suburbs I grew up in singing and dancing out loud to this song, late, late at night.

    And there is more, so much more. But we will end here – just noting that as the B-sides went away we lost something important, an essential mode of artistic expression.

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  • This morning we will be making a short detour to early medieval philosophy and the venerable Bede. Bede, who was among a handful toi survive the plague that ravaged his monastery, grew up to become not just an era-defining thinker and historian, but also a teacher revered by his students and generations to come.

    One thing that sticks out is Bede’s view of the transitory nature of life, and especially the parable of the sparrow – once told to a great king:

    “The present life of man upon earth, O King, seems to me in comparison with that time which is unknown to us like the swift flight of a sparrow through the mead-hall where you sit at supper in winter, with your Ealdormen and thanes, while the fire blazes in the midst and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest, but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter to winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.”

    Venerable Bede, the parable of the sparrow

    A sparrow in brief flight through a warm hall on a winter’s night.

    Now, you could find something like this depressing – reminders of the brevity of our life on this Earth have this effect on some – but you can also find it an inspiration to do something meaningful of that time. Bede clearly did the latter – composing the first history of England and building a school that included several famous and influential students. What is it that determines how you read this parable?

    The first reading is easy enough to see: if life is but a flicker of the flame, why care? Why do anything at all when we could revert back to nothingness at any moment? If this kind of argument is developed enough it turns into a nihilism that stifles all ambition and ends all projects. The argument here is that if life is limited, it cannot have meaning.

    The opposite argument is the reversal of this: it is exactly the limited nature of life that gives it meaning and allows you to create something beautiful of the minutes allotted to you (and yes, they are minutes – too – and sometimes it is good to remember that).

    This, second, argument points out that nihilism is just a badly dressed up fear – a fear of not being able to create something lasting and valuable (and I do not mean valuable in the eyes of others, but in the eyes of yourself). Nihilism seems wise because it seems as if it is a reluctance to value anything or even recognize that there exists such a thing as value – but this wisdom is premised on the recognition of value, of belief, of hope.

    Wittgenstein noted in the remarkable book On certainty that doubt in itself makes no sense if we do not first believe. We have to understand belief, and know it, before we can doubt. Doubt is dependent on belief – and while he would probably reject any attempt at metaphysics, the same can be said about nihilism – the idea that there are no values is dependent on the realization that the sparrow’s flight through a warm mead’s hall on a wintery night is meaningful.

    And so Bede speaks to us through the years, and it is not quite a memento mori, but a reminder to wonder at the world, find in it work that is meaningful for us and take care of each-other in recognition of the brevity we are, perhaps ending our days with the same grace the story tells us Bede did – finishing his work with a reflection on what good and bad he had done, in what has become known as Bede’s death song – in his native Northumbrian:

    Fore thaem neidfaerae ‖ naenig uuiurthit
    thoncsnotturra, ‖ than him tharf sie
    to ymbhycggannae ‖ aer his hiniongae
    huaet his gastae ‖ godaes aeththa yflaes
    aefter deothdaege ‖ doemid uueorthae.

    (Before setting forth on that inevitable journey, none is wiser than the man who considers—before his soul departs hence—what good or evil he has done, and what judgement his soul will receive after its passing.)

  • The issue of jurisdiction is one we will return to. Here is the first go!

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  • One of the most fascinating books on writing that I have read was recommend to me by a professor who I once considered doing my Ph D for. I ended up, for different reasons, doing it for another amazing professor who really helped me think about not just the topic and dissertation, but about thinking over all and the academic context – but the book recommendation stayed with me, and helped me finish the dissertation. As I now turn to writing longer projects again (I have a few on-going) I re-read it.

    The book is called The Clockwork Muse by Eviatar Zerubavel, and what it recommends is commonplace – it is to divide your book up into smaller chunks and then make progress on those chunks every day. If you write 500 words a day, 4 months will get you to the 60 000 that makes up a goodish book, and Zerubavel returns to this basic insight again and again and suggests almost provocatively small chunks of work and a bafflingly slow pace.

    But there is the genius. With his pace, say 2000, words a week, most of us would actually be able to write a book a year. No more is needed. The trick is that there is no trick, just continuous work and doggedness.

    Writers write, they say. There is a lot of truth to that, but what the saying does not reveal is that they can write surprisingly little and still produce much.

    Here, as in many other cases, the secret is compounding, working on things that accrue more and more value over time. Book writing is like that – and I think that is true also for blog writing by the way – all you write adds to what you have written and creates a structure, and architecture of thinking and writing, that you can inhabit and improve on.

    The book is strongly recommended.

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  • Metrics are dangerous. You manage what you measure, as the old saw goes, and you want to make sure that you are not measuring the wrong thing – or things. We need to take great care when we set up metrics for anything we want to accomplish in order to make sure that we do not get the wrong outcomes.

    One way to approach metrics is to look at them as “scoring systems” in board games. Board game designers are mental modellers par excellence, and the work they do is astonishingly instructive when we think about metrics. So, let’s look at a few ideas from board game scoring and what they can teach us.

    In a recent post on fundamental game design one designer suggested an intriguing hypothesis: that all games can be seen as competitions or races. Races are about getting there first and achieving a particular goal first, competition is about about having the highest score when the game ends (as determined by some other criteria).

    So the first question we should ask ourselves, then, is if we are scoring a race or a competition.

    My suspicion is that most of us think in terms of the highest score-paradigm, and so focus on that – which makes it interesting to think about what a race means. In a race you only need to achieve a certain state, and it does not matter how you do it. What matters is getting there. Competitions are much harder, because they are much more relative to the other players in terms of scoring.

    Races sound bad, but think about it. What if you were to consider your life a race rather than a competition – what you want to accomplish is a pre-defined state where you own your own time. That is all. You can now carefully design that state by tuning income and costs, as well as finding sustainable investments that will allow you increasingly to own your own time. This means you suddenly are not trying to get more than your neighbors, but enough.

    It is easy to mistake life for a competition, however, since there is an external condition – death – determining when the game is over. Hence jokes like “he who has the most toys when he dies, wins” — this is life as competition.

    I remember distinctly noting this difference as a kid when I was playing an old board game called Career. The game had a simple structure — it looked like a monopoly board and you veered off the edges into “careers” and each career would have possible pay offs in three dimensions: fame, love and money. Some where weighted towards fame (the movie actor career) others towards love (the doctor career) and some towards money (the stock broker career) — but you were not guaranteed any mix of the three, you just had a higher weighted probability to get those kinds of scores in different careers.

    Swedish readers will see the events – and the era-typical misogynism – in this photo.

    Now, the game was not about scoring the most across these categories, but it had an interesting twist: you had to, secretly and beforehand, define your happiness formula. And that formula was essentially a distribution of 120 units across the three categories. So you could be balanced – 40+40+40 – or choose to have happiness dependent only on love or money. But this was an exquisitely designed race where you had determined an individual end state to reach!

    I always found it an intriguing model of life – albeit with some obvious flaws.

    But leaving the existential aside — many projects are actually more like races than competitions, and scoring or measuring them like competitions may well end up delaying them — much better then to focus on race-like metrics.

    Board game design is often under-appreciated as a way to model the world. You don’t even need to be much of a player to find game design really interesting, and there is a recent book out about the broader, philosophical ideas here – Games – The Art of Agency by C. Thi Nguyen as also explored in a paper by the author here.

    Scoring structures have a lot of space for creativity, and metrics need not be simple nor boring. Give it a go!

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  • Do send comments and ideas to us! Thanks for all the ones you have already sent!

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  • The FT editorial today deals with Danone and its shift to a “purpose driven company”. The shift has been less than successful and its architect was unceremoniously removed. The editorial then goes on to note that there is a tension here between the Milton Friedman vision of companies as socially responsible when they maximize their profits and the more fuzzy vision today of companies as mission and purposed driven. Overall, this leads to a discussion of companies as political actors that is interesting and increasingly overdue. The editorial ends by noting that CEOs have to manage multiple challenges and balance them and that the idea that there is a single metric that companies are managed on is ridiculous – and they are absolutely right.

    Now, anyone who reads the original article also finds that Friedman has been misread. His point is not that the purpose of a company is to maximize profits. It is that the leadership of a company work for the owners of the company. This is a significant difference and one that is largely obscured in the discussion. Friedman even writes that if the owners have specific purposes in mind the leadership should work for them: “A group of persons might establish a corporation for an eleemosynary purpose—for example, a hospital or school. The manager of such a corporation will not have money profit as his objective but the rendering of certain services.”

    Misreading Milton

    And then the real Friedman doctrine is spelled out in detail:”In either case, the key point is that, in his capacity as a corporate executive, the manager is the agent of the individuals who own the corporation or establish the eleemosynary institution, and his primary responsibility is to them.”

    Apart from reminding us of the wonderful word “eleemosynary” this highlights how a misreading of Friedman has set up a fake juxtaposition between purpose and profit, suggesting that you have to choose one or the other, and intentionally leaving the “you” vague.

    The “you” is not vague, however – it refers to the owners of the enterprise.

    And the interests of the shareholders are not simple, either. Friedman reminds us that shareholders – owners – have an interest in the community and future of the society that they are operating in:

    To illustrate, it may well be in the long‐run interest of a corporation that is a major employer in a small community to devote resources to providing amenities to that community or to improving its government. That may make it easier to attract desirable employees, it may reduce the wage bill or lessen losses from pilferage and sabotage or have other worthwhile effects. Or it may be that, given the laws about the deductibility of corporate charitable contributions, the stockholders can contribute more to charities they favor by having the corporation make the gift than by doing it themselves, since they can in that way contribute an amount that would otherwise have been paid as corporate taxes.

    A Friedman Doctrine, New York Times, Sept 13 1970.

    The hard reading of Friedman is partly inspired by a quote in Capitalism and Freedom where he synthesizes all of this into a pithy paragraph, but the article leaves no doubt that his views are more complex, and that the time scale they play out on also matters a great deal to the actual results.

    Profit maximization cannot be understood in isolation. If you want to understand what it means you have to ask over what time period you are maximizing profits. There is a huge difference between the company that maximizes profits over 100 years and the company that does so quarter to quarter. If we were able to think creatively about this we would encourage companies to work on longer time horizons, and think about the value they create not in yearly increments for the purposes of taxation, but allow companies to build long term value.

    Now, you don’t need to agree with Friedman on any of his ideas or be a libertarian or even be liberal to worry that the fake tension between profits and purpose is taking center stage in today’s discussion about the role of the corporation in society. The only concern you need to share is one of oversimplification of complex issues.

    Whenever we end up in simple dichotomies we all lose.

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  • The organization and funding of science is a key geopolitical competitive advantage – and badly underrated across most economies. The European Union has failed at organizing tightly around scientific challenges, relying on large flagship programs that fragment into systems for distributing money across member states and the US has lost track of the post-world war II investments and strategies that through Vannevar Bush gave it a singular position in the world of science and technology. That could now be changing through an interesting new bill that could be re.introduced in the US congress – The Endless Frontiers Act. The act is an attempt to re-focus the US on organization and funding of science in a creative way, and there are several really interesting ideas in the legislation. A good review and critique is available in this paper.

    One of the things that is proposed is a return to the focus on problems. In the bill there is a suggestion for a Technology Directorate that would deal with “use-inspired research”:

    The bill would establish within the National Science Foundation (NSF) a new Technology Directorate, alongside its several existing science and engineering directorates, to increase investment in basic sciences that are motivated by specific problems and needs. (This is
    sometimes referred to as use-inspired basic research. The new directorate would be authorized to receive a very large budget, as much as $100 billion over its first five years, more than the NSF’s other directorates combined and a substantial increase over its FY2021 budget
    of approximately $8.5 billion.

    This is exciting because it suggests that research would be forced to think through and rank what the core problems we need to think about are. Something that I think has long been missing in the organization of science and technology funding is a sense of where the rich problems are.

    The idea of a rich problem largely corresponds with how Hilbert thought about interesting mathematical problems when he refocused the entire field of mathematics by pointing to a number of 23 key problems that needed to be solved in 1900. His problems became a structuring principle for a lot of mathematical research and still retain relevance for what are seen as rich problems. Hilbert describes how he choose his problems in an interesting way, and stresses clearness, accessibility (we should have some idea of where to start looking) and assessing how generative a solution would be, the fields and applications it would unlock (admitting that this is hard, but could be guided by experience – what the act calls use-based research).

    This is also what the authors of the article referenced above are chafing against. They want to ensure that the funding of basic research remains intact – and with that they are essentially thinking about basic, undirected research. Let the mind go where it will and find what it can learn – that is the general sentiment underpinning this view of basic research and it is important to really try to understand why that is being put forward as an alternative to the use-inspired research.

    The idea seems to be this: basic research is valuable because we cannot do what Hilbert did – we cannot identify important problems among the possible problems to work on. And furthermore, if we get stuck in thinking about applied science we risk becoming myopic and developing a better horse rather than finding new ways of transport. Oftentimes we do not know what research insights will be valuable, so we should refrain entirely from trying to direct our research efforts, lest we miss some really important insights that lurk in what looks like ephemeral ivory tower research programs.

    That is a strong claim. But it is also one that is hard to prove. Do we really have no way of assigning importance over the set of possible scientific problems in basic research? Is there no way to categorize problems into more and less valuable to work on? If so the individual researcher would be at a loss to decide where to start, it seems – and if we think about how problems are actually selected today we see that there is indeed a valuation going on.

    The real challenge then is to decide if the way we select problems today is better than focusing on the notion use-inspired research or Hilbertian problem sets.

    So how are problems chosen today? It would seem that problems are primarily chosen through social mechanisms – working on what no one works on is hard, and the more collaborative science gets, the harder it becomes to break ranks with the on-going research programs. This is something that retard a field massively over many years. An instructive case study may be how a social network of scientists held back the growth of artificial intelligence by dismissing neural networks and “perceptrons” as unimportant research paths.

    Soliciting problems from a broader group, and without the implied peer pressure of academia, might be a more interesting path to take – and here we should not underestimate the value of involving the private sector much more. There is a lot of value in thinking through how research and development now has shifted out in many fields to private actors and building bridges to that research in ways that could create a more comprehensive problem set to focus on.

    I think the basic outline for a research policy can be sketched out fairly quickly, and it is surprising that not more is being done here. The core elements that I would like to see are:

    1. More public funding and a better organization of that funding. Fast grants (ala Tyler Cowen).
    2. Focus on clear, accessible and generative problems – and solicit input for building long term problem sets that can be made the focus on decades of research.
    3. Increasing citizen participation in science and ensure that the scientific field really benefits from the openness and collaboration tools now available.
    4. Do not accept that basic research / applied research false dichotomy. Focus on how problems are chosen and improve that mechanism.
    5. Integrate private R&D in public efforts and remove any firewalls between corporations and public sector here.

    There is more to be done, but these coarse grained ideas would at least get us started on a better path, and one that may ensure that we can meet the complexity of the challenges we are facing.

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