• One interesting question in examining any ideology is where you start. What are your starting premises when you decide how you think we best live together and organize our polity? You can start in different places – someone starting from the assumption that the state rests on the divine will of God will have to start with how this divine will can be ascertained and how to ensure it is best reflected in the organization of the state, for example – and someone believing in the equality of all human beings may start from that principle and then seek ways to ensure that a society minimizes inequality (this is how I read Rawls – as an attempt to start from the basic assumption that justice is fairness and that we should seek to arrange society in a fair way).

    In a way these approaches represent the traditional starting points for theories about our polity – they start from theology or ethics. You ask what is the will of God or what is just – and then you try to build a state from that starting point. You may say that freedom trumps fairness, and that our organization of the state is to solely based on what maximizes individual freedom – this is one of the more common understandings of liberalism of the John Stuart Mill-type, for example (albeit horribly simplified here).

    A liberalism or socialism based on ethics, or a conservatism based on theology, have an interesting thing in common, however, and that is that they share a very expansive epistemology. There is so much that is already known in both of these models of the state – it is assumed that the knowledge available to us allows us to organize the state in ways that are fair or free or that we can discern the will of the Lord and that we should just act on that.

    Ideologies based on ethics or theology are all based on a kind of epistemological hubris.

    An alternative would be to explore what ideologies you would choose if you are much more epistemologically humble.

    In a quote that I have often used, Hayek lays out an epistemological position that I think could serve as such a starting point:

    What the age of rationalism—and modern positivism—has taught us to regard as senseless and meaningless formations due to accident or human caprice, turn out in many instances to be the foundations on which our capacity for rational thought rests. Man is not and never will be the master of his fate: his very reason always progresses by leading him into the unknown and unforeseen where he learns new things.

    Hayek, F Law, Legislation and Liberty: A New Statement of the Liberal Principles of Justice and Political Economy, p 507

    This position is one where the knowledge available to use is not just limited – but diminishes with progress. Hayek eloquently, and much before his time, suggests that a key reason for this is complexity. In a far too little-read paper called “The theory of complex phenomena” Hayek lays out a very far-sighted analysis of complexity as a key constraint on any ideological or legal project.

    Biological complexity over mechanical simplicity gives you a different point of departure for an ideological project.

    It is a remarkable piece of writing in that it precedes so much of the discussion about complexity and society that we see today – and should as such be seen as a key contribution to much of the complexity studies that are undertaken today. Hayek’s ideological position in the public mind may have hindered this, and if so it is a pity, because in this paper is laid out a conception of social analysis that really requires attention in our time. Here is what he writes about the distinction between simplicity and complexity:

    The distinction between simplicity and complexity raises considerable philosophical difficulties when applied to statements. But there seems to exist a fairly easy and adequate way to measure the degree of complexity of different kinds of abstract patterns. The minimum number of elements of which an instance of the pattern must consist in order to exhibit all the characteristic attributes of the class of patterns in question appears to provide an unambiguous criterion.

    Hayek, F “The Theory of Complex Phenomena”

    This is not quite algorithmic complexity – but close, and perhaps more interesting for social sciences. He concludes:

    What we must get rid of is the naive superstition that the world must be so organized that it is possible by direct observation to discover simple regularities between all phenomena and that this is a necessary presupposition for the application of the scientific method. What we have by now discovered about the organization of many complex structures should be sufficient to teach us that there is no reason to expect this, and that if we want to get a head in these fields our aims will have to be somewhat different from what they are in the fields of simple phenomena.

    Ibid

    Hayek suggests, in the concluding part that we should recognize the “importance of our ignorance”. Now, this has been taken as a limit on theories of the state grounded in ethics and theology, rather than – what I think is more reasonable – a suggestion that we need to start from epistemology.

    An ideology grounded in the question “what can we know” is very different from one grounded in “what is just” – but it seems impossible to get to ethics without first passing through epistemology (or, well – it seems impossible to me, I can imagine that there is an argument that says that our epistemology is secondary to our ethics, and quite a strong argument too, perhaps based on a reading of Wittgenstein’s views in On Certainty — in order to doubt (epistemology) we need to first believe (ethics) – but I resist that because I think that ethics is as reflective and theoretical as epistemology, and thus we need to order our intellectual models to get at a reasonable sequence of constructing our ideologies – we feel first, and we are, but that is not ethics, but rather what Wittgenstein would refer to as Äusserungen, and it would take us too far away from the beaten path to try to build an ideology on that).

    So what would this look like? What is a liberalism built on the conviction of our epistemological limitations and the resulting ignorance? I think it is an ideology that allows for far more uncertainty than risk, to start with — and I want to think a bit about what that means in future posts.

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  • In this episode Richard Allan discusses the future of news, the tension between publishers and platforms and much more! Hope you find it interesting!

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  • In 1995 Wired nestor Kevin Kelly and Kirk Sale entered into a bet that society would have collapsed in 2020 – and that this collapse would be evident across three dimensions: economic, climate and social – the dollar would be worthless, we would live in a climate disaster and there would be growing conflict between the rich and the poor. They appointed a judge and then waited. Wired has the entire story here.

    Collapse or complexity – or both?

    The judge looked at the three criteria in the bet and decided the economy was doing fine, but that we were indeed living in a slow motion climate disaster and on the issue of social conflict, there seemed to be a tie. But since actual collapse would require all three to be true, the judge decided Kelly won. Sale refused to budge, and did not honor his debt.

    It is an extraordinary story.

    Here we are, in 2021, and we are discussing if society collapsed or not.

    The collapse of bridge is different from losing control

    It would probably have helped the discussion if the bet had looked to a better definition of collapse, like the one that Joseph Tainter put forward in his seminal The Collapse of Complex Societies:

    Collapse, as viewed in the present work, is a political process. It may, and often does, have consequences in such areas as economics, art, and literature, but it is fundamentally a matter of the sociopolitical sphere. A society has collapsed when it displays a rapid, significant loss of an established level of sociopolitical complexity.

    Tainter, J The Collapse of Complex Societies (1988)

    Tainter’s definition has the advantage of looking at a core measure – complexity – and understanding the world from there. And with Tainter’s definition we would have to ask if we see rapid simplification of our socio-economic systems. It seems clear to me we do not.

    That does not mean that all is well. There is something here that irks me – and that is that the bet Kelly and Sale entered into seems to look only at one type of social catastrophe, collapse. There is, to my mind, an equally difficult future if we do not collapse but instead move into a level of complexity that we cannot manage and where we will lose our social agency, or ability to collective action.

    This state has nothing to do with the return to “tribal clusters” as Sale suggested, but it is an end of sorts anyway – an end where the world goes from project to system – to use the metaphors legal scholar Paul W Kahn employ in his work. The world as system offers scant agency and ability to act, and that loss – living in a world where we suddenly find ourselves on a complex sea in a chaotic storm of uncertainty – seems greater in a way than the collapse scenarios where we all go back to the village. In fact, it also seems asymmetric – there is no way out of a society to the old village when it crosses a certain complexity threshold.

    So, perhaps the question should not be if society has collapsed, but if we have lost our collective agency — that is a more interesting question for determining how our future will look.

    Now, I do not believe we have. But I believe we may be at risk of doing so if we do not spend attention, time and resources in building the kinds of institutions that can effectively manage social, economic and technical complexity.

    Collapse or loss of control are different ends, both worthy of consideration.

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  • Speed is often hailed as the key virtue in business. Especially in tech business speed has been idolized to the extent that it found its way into that now infamous company motto “Move fast and break things” – a motto that has lost a lot of its allure. It is interesting to understand why that is. Is it because of the “break things”? One could understand if someone who breaks things fast is not universally appreciated, but I really think that papers over what the real issue is here. If the tech industry is interested in addressing the political concerns increasingly raised about it, we can probably benefit from looking more closely at the politics of speed. Here are three tentative hypotheses that I think are worthwhile to consider.

    (i) At a certain size speed is indistinguishable from arrogance. 

    This proposition suggests that speed most always be viewed relative to size, and with relative size in mind. If you are the biggest – or even the fastest growing – actor in a market, your speed increasingly will change not just the technology or even the competitive dynamics – it changes the very foundations of the market you are in – the trustworthiness and balance that the market needs to survive. At that point you move from being a single fast actor to becoming a systemic imbalance.

    Speed is often even regulated. The first cars were limited to 12 mph, and the speed of cars also led to specific rules for how cars and horse carriages should behave together. Highlighting the relative speed issues in speed policy.

    It is very hard to see where that threshold lies, but it is clear that the undeniable strategic advantage conferred on a company through speed follows the paradoxical logic that Edward Luttwak observes govern all agonistic processes. Luttwak writes:

    In the entire realm of strategy, therefore, a course of action cannot persist indefinitely. It will instead tend to evolve into its opposite, unless the entire logic of strategy is outweighed by some externally induced change in the circumstances of the participants.

    This is profound, and Luttwaks concept of the culminating point of victory, in which victory starts to degrade into defeat, is a concept far too rarely applied to the logic of business.

    The second proposition is something I have written about previously, and that is that we need to understand relative speeds much better:

    (ii) Relative speed matters more than absolute speed in the politics of speed. 

    This is trivial, but sometimes neglected. When your company or the development of a technology moves much faster than the surrounding society, you will have some advantages – regulators will be reticent to regulate fast moving industries and you will be able to use the escape velocity to largely remain in “the honeymoon of the entrepreneur”-phase of development – but those advantages will come with a price that needs to be paid when innovation slows down, when you start touting what is really features as if were they exciting product launches and when the field you are innovating in reaches a plateau. And it will — the option to keep accelerating is taken of the table by the aggregated complexity in any sufficiently interesting technology.

    Relative speed – the escape velocity many tech companies achieve at some point in hyper growth – comes with a specific kind of blindness for consequences and political debt piling up; avoid this if possible by at least preparing for the landing. Acceleration political debt is due in deceleration.

    The third hypothesis is more of an observation:

    (iii) Speed compounds into rhythmic complexity. 

    There is almost never a single speed in a company, and when you the different actors in a market and the speed of society overall, you don’t only end up with broad pace layers, but interacting systems run in different rhythms. This in turn creates a special kind of complexity – rhythmic complexity – that increases the risk of “normal accidents”. And this brings us to the last extra hypothesis you get for reading this far:

    (iv) Failures caused by speed are socially and reputationally more costly than other failures of ambition overall. 

    If a company fails because it was moving too fast it will be far worse off than if it fails for any other reason. Speed signals self-confidence and, as we have noted, a certain arrogance. Failures in that mode are much more damning than failures that come from trying something really hard.

    The politics of speed are essential when working with public policy overall, but for those of us who think through tech issues speed can sometimes even be existential.

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  • Is String theory true? Has Latin America seen a political polarization in the last ten years? Is a keto-oriented diet dangerous for your heart? The only reasonable answer to these questions – for the absolut majority of us – is that we do not know. If you are a physicist working in String theory, a deep political expert with years in studying Latin-American politics or a medical doctor focused on diets and their adverse effects you will naturally have something to say here – but most of us are not. Yet, it is not hard to find people who have views on all of the subjects above.

    What we do when we answer questions like this is not that we disclose knowledge – we make stuff up. We confabulate. Confabulation is, the almighty Wikipedia tells us, “a memory error defined as the production of fabricated, distorted, or misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world. People who confabulate present incorrect memories ranging from “subtle alterations to bizarre fabrications”,[1] and are generally very confident about their recollections, despite contradictory evidence”.

    It is worth studying this more in detail. In her fascinating book Being Wrong, author Kathryn Schulz notes that:

    Most of us, however, are noticeably better at generating theories than at registering our own ignorance. Hirstein says that once he began studying confabulation, he started seeing sub-clinical versions of it everywhere he looked, in the form of neurologically normal people “who seem unable to say the words, ‘I don’t know,’ and will quickly produce some sort of plausible-sounding response to whatever they are asked.” Such people, he says, “have a sort of mildly confabulatory personality.”*

    Actually, all of us have mildly confabulatory personalities.

    Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error, p 83

    So, why is it so hard to say that we do not know? One answer is of course that we want to be helpful, and be seen as insightful. And not knowing is generally perceived as a social flaw, but on the other hand confabulation often means that you end up being wrong, which is a worse social flaw. But the reality is that very few of our opinions are tested or submitted to more rigorous review, so we do get away with it.

    There is significant power in not knowing, however. And what is more important: it may help others admit the same thing and then we can start making some real progress in finding things out. What we need then, is a mental model of what it means not to know. It is not that we “come up empty” and lack value and contribution – it is more that we have found a reason to search for the right answer, and in that search we engage others.

    “I don’t know” really should translate into “We should find that out”.

    Not knowing is agreeing to explore rather than giving up.

    When we are on this subject we may also want to think about what some of the consequences of the tendency to confabulate is. A correlate to the observation that there is a lot of things we do not know is that there are a lot of things other people do not know either, and we tend to forget that. A case in point is what Michael Crichton called the Gell Mann effect:

    Media carries with it a credibility that is totally undeserved. You have all experienced this, in what I call the Murray Gell-Mann Amnesia effect. (I refer to it by this name because I once discussed it with Murray Gell-Mann, and by dropping a famous name I imply greater importance to myself, and to the effect, than it would otherwise have.)

    Briefly stated, the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect is as follows. You open the newspaper to an article on some subject you know well. In Murray’s case, physics. In mine, show business. You read the article and see the journalist has absolutely no understanding of either the facts or the issues. Often, the article is so wrong it actually presents the story backward — reversing cause and effect. I call these the “wet streets cause rain” stories. Paper’s full of them.

    In any case, you read with exasperation or amusement the multiple errors in a story, and then turn the page to national or international affairs, and read as if the rest of the newspaper was somehow more accurate about Palestine than the baloney you just read. You turn the page, and forget what you know.

    That is the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect.

    See http://geer.tinho.net/crichton.why.speculate.txt

    Once we realize that confabulation makes up a significant piece of what we read in the news, we may want to seek to change the things we read and seek out more substantive reading – read research and books instead of news, for example — but more importantly, constantly reminding us that many of the articles in the news probably should be translated to a quiet “I don’t know”.

    There is a certain liberty in that! When we do not know we are free to start learning.

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  • In the beginning of the pandemic I wrote a blogpost in Swedish, inspired by Tyler Cowen, arguing that we owe it to ourselves to predict a number of fatalities that we believe would within what we expect to reach – because without this we just recede into a position of referenceless criticism. The key I developed then to assessing the Swedish pandemic response had two dimensions – an absolut one where I set success at under 20000 deaths in a year, and a relative one where I set success to not more than 15% more deaths than our country neighbors. On the first dimension, then, the Swedish strategy was a success, and on the other an abysmal failure. In this follow up note I try to explore why that can be, and how to think about it as I keep struggling with how to evaluate the public response to the pandemic – on the 31st of December 2021.

    I increasingly think that we need to look at a multifactor analysis that contains both preparedness measures, disease control measures and disease treatment measures to evaluate where we end up here. And it is far to easy to just speak about a pandemic strategy, as if that was a cohesive whole. The whole note here in Swedish.

  • It is fair to say that playing video games have a number of positive cognitive and attentional effects (see this metastudy of 116 different papers), but one thing that is rarely highlighted is the fact that video games in some cases offer mental models that can be applied cross domains and used to think through complex scenarios and problems. It seems almost frivolous to suggest that we “gamify” or engage in “game storming” when it comes to really complex problems like climate change, but the reality is that a game is nothing else than a playable model. There is, I think, some argument for differentiating out a playable model from a simulation if only because the idea of a playable model puts agency at the forefront of what we are doing – we “run a simulation” but “play a game”.

    Seeing in games is accepting that meaning is created not given.

    And it is not only video games that can be drawn upon to understand and structure complexity better – I firmly believe that the people who grew up playing role playing games like Rolemaster, D&D or Call of Cthulhu have at their fingertips ways of thinking through a problem that includes core parameters like luck, skill, stats needed to accomplish something, the mechanics of conflict or combat as well as the importance of narrative to all of our endeavours.

    So what are some interesting ways in which we can think through our problems with the help of game design? Let’s look at 10 really simple questions we can use to structure a challenge in game terms.

    1. How do I keep score? This is a deceptively simple question that is often overlooked, especially in large organisations. Ask your colleagues how they keep score overall and you will find, especially cross-functionally, that different teams keep scores in very different ways.
    2. What is the skill tree here? I have already discussed this in another post, but skill trees are amazingly powerful devices to structure a discussion about the capabilities of your organisation and think through how you need to resource yourself to ensure that you have the capabilities needed to reach your objectives and key results.
    3. Who are the other players? Again a deceptively simple question, but especially in large organisations you tend to lose sight of the fact that almost everything is an n-player game where n>3. If you know what other players are you can start thinking through what moves you would make in their situation.
    4. What character am I playing? This is offered slightly tongue-in-cheek, but it helps to think about who you are in your workplace — you have a professional identity, and that is not far from thinking through how you roll a character in a game. This also helps you to create the distance you need to your work to really be able to seek out and appreciate hard feedback, actually and reminds you that this is just a small part of who you are. Underneath all of our masks we are just ourselves, but we can use the masks to great effect.
    5. What is the quest? If you structure a problem like a quest you will see that there are key points in it where you need to meet someone, perform a hard task, face yourself – etc. And quests are great additions to the core projects that a company needs to run, and they are awesome tools for career development. A simple way to do this is to put up a quest board where folks in the company can post a quest with a short duration, clear outcome and a key problem to solve — and those who want to try their hand at working in another function or just dig in extra can do so.
    6. Resource management. In any sufficiently advanced strategy game you typically die not so much because of your lack of strategic genius as from the fact that you run out of iridium / money / dark mana / any other resources. Which are the resources you are managing and how do you ensure that they are managed right? This approach beats budgeting hands down, because budgeting is based on the amazingly arbitrary idea that a year is a good time to plan for and then breaking it up in quarters makes sense. It often doesn’t – but managing resources dynamically, from round to round, is key!
    7. Research trees. These are related to skill trees, but they are more open ended. What are the open research questions you are working on, where a new concept / technology / model / service / product would allow you to significantly change your game?
    8. Diplomacy. In most advanced 4X games you can win through building alliances and unifying different players. The ability to think creatively and explicitly about diplomacy is key. Who are the key people in the network you are playing in (it helps to think about all games as games on networks) and what is your relationship to them? For many big tech companies the loss of diplomatic relationships with publishers came with a surprisingly high price in the 4X Big Tech game.
    9. Character development and experience points. Are you deploying your learning effectively? Are you helping others develop and get experience? How do you think about levels in your organisation? Many company’s have talent ladders and levels that are hopelessly fuzzy and vague, it is much better to think through how you add experience points and when that means that you are the next level — again it feels frivolous, but is it really more frivolous than the more or less arbitrary performance evaluations we inflict on people in many modern organisations? Would you not prefer to discuss what the experience you have had should be worth in points towards a set goal?
    10. The map. This simple, fundamental tool of any strategy game is almost always missing in modern organisation – they have no real map of the environment they are in, no representation of the fitness landscape they are navigating – that makes very little sense, but again comes from the fear of playing, of being seen to be less serious. And there is something fundamental here – this fear of playing, the idea that play is something reserved for children and something you outgrow is really the mind killer. All art is play, all work is play if you do it right.

    Now there is one thing that I think we should point out very clearly, and that is that the point of playing games is not to win. It is to keep playing. This has been brilliantly captured by James P Carse in his ingenious little book on finite and infinite games, and the definition of infinite games is also Carse’s:

    Infinite players cannot say when their game began, nor do they care. They do not care for the reason that their game is not bounded by time. Indeed, the only purpose of the game is to prevent it from coming to an end, to keep everyone in play.

    Carse, James P Finite and Infinite Games: A Vision of Life as Play and Possibility

    We play to keep playing at the heart of things. We may want to win in individual finite games, but we need to see that they are all played in the context of the infinite game, the great game we call life.

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  • This paper from the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta is an interesting signal for determining what happens to the economy post-pandemic. It shows a sharp recovery in the starting of new businesses – and when compared to the Great recession this really is evidence of resilience – but! – and this may be a marker of something different happening here – that transition rate, the rate at which business transform from non-employer to employer businesses – seems to be dropping. The new companies are non-employer companies (i.e. self-employed in many cases). The graph in the paper hints at this:

    So what can we say about this economy? We could form a number of hypotheses. The paper points out that we see a rise in employer startups, i.e. new companies that are formed with employees, but a slow down in the transition of existing business expanding. A way to interpret that is to say that companies that are surviving the pandemic are hesitant to move to expanding and employing people, even though more people start companies and there are more new employer start ups.

    This may be fine, and could change as the situation is normalized. The question is what happens to these non-transition companies when there is a contraction of credit down the road, will they stay non-employer businesses? The impact on a coming credit contraction is discussed in another paper from the same bank where the prediction is that we are unlikely to see a “time bomb”-effect in the SME-space. Taken together, however, the papers suggest that there are alternative scenarios where the pandemic may slow down transition rates for a decade or more, leaving new employment not to transitioning business growing, but to new start up employers.

    There is probably a lot more here to dig into, but these two papers suggest a few components of scenarios for the post-pandemic composition of the economy.

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  • In what has become the accepted wisdom, income does not increase your happiness over some level – usually at around 75000 USD / year. But in a recent paper on PNAS that claim was shown to be false…or was it? The debate that has been raging about the paper since it came out has been really interesting to follow and there are essentially two different positions that people take.

    (i) Money does buy you happiness. More money = more happiness.

    (ii) The old idea of a limit does hold, but with small, marginalen increments at very high prices

    The second view is eloquently expressed in this tweet:

    So, this is worth a think — not least because it challenges the received wisdom, and we should be very interested in where we have been casually wrong about something. I also think that this qualifies as a mesofact – something you learn once and rarely update – so let’s update our beliefs.

    But what should the new belief be?

    In this well-reasoned blogpost the author suggests that the new belief should essentially be this:

    (iii) Money behaves like any good with decreasing marginal utility, and the decrease is steep after a certain breaking point. High income brackets, however, report less experience well-being even if they report higher life-satisfaction (with a caveat that the data is self-reported).

    But is this right? Could we not challenge the entire premise of the experiment? What does it mean to ask people to self-report on their life satisfaction? Why is that judged to be the right question, or a question that will give meaningful answers? Have we not been led astray here by something rather sinister that happens again and again in popularized science – comfort science?

    Comfort science, as I think about it, serves a very different purpose than proper science. It gives you support for your current life choices and your own personal narrative – and so you use it not as belief, but as comfort and support. It is like comfort food. Examples include things like:

    • It is healthy to drink alcohol in moderation (probably isn’t, but in the large scheme of things something will kill you and if you like to drink moderately – please do, but without justifying it through “science”).
    • Chocolate is good for you (without distinguishing between the 80% high quality chocolate and the Mars bar you eat with that justification).
    • Children need quality time not quantity time (and the variant that says that we spend more time with our children than any preceding generation – research that is essentially meaningless because it groups a diverse set of individuals – kids – together and makes assumptions about their collective well-being).
    • Just 12 minutes of exercise is enough per day! (It is better than nothing, but an hour long walk will not kill you, you know).

    And, of course, the idea that income beyond levels that you can aspire to or just above simply do not make people happier. Let’s, just for the sake of argument, spell out all the methodological flaws in that argument from the outset.

    First, Happiness is hardly a helpful measure – and not the only dimension in which we exist. Our age’s focus on happiness is a common psychosis that we have to get over. Back to Aristotle – you can judge no man happy until his life is at an end. Things like learning, relationships, failures all give meaning across a complex set of dimensions – and money is a part of that complex set of meanings, and may matter more for you if you use it to make a difference for others (imagine if the question had been not about the life satisfaction of the individual, but about the question of if they think they can effect meaningful change in the world – then we would connect money and agency, and what do you think the answer would be there?)

    Second, people who self-select to respond to research about their income are signaling rather than reporting. They want you to know something about them. As in many surveys, the self-expression trumps the ambition to report valid data. When you ask people if they care about privacy, to take one example, you need to think about what it would signal for them to say that they do not — how uninteresting and worthless would they not have to think themselves to essentially say that they could imagine being fodder for a surveillance state machine or corporate monster? The same holds for highly socially charged things like wealth – across a number of different variables. Dogbert famously said that you should not trust the advice of rich people, since they do not want company. Think about what that does to the research design we are looking at here!

    Third, income is in itself a weird focus. If we looked at the power that well invested wealth could give over time – or asked people to think about their life satisfaction when they are younger and directed the question to their future – how happy do you think you will be when you retire? – the answers, again, would probably be different. To look at income, to focus on yearly or monthly income is essentially like asking how happy are you now, when the real question may well be how happy do you think you will be later? Remember Kahneman’s tourist that wants to remember their trip but rather not make it!

    And so on. Maybe the best way to update your belief, then, is this:

    (iv) This study, like a whole host of other studies in the same style, is nothing but comfort science, and should be discarded for any more serious analysis of the underlying patterns it claims to describe.

    Harsh? Yes. But definitely an option as you consider how you want to update your beliefs.

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  • This article discusses a subject that increasingly has caught my interest: what is a good explanation? This is an old question in philosophy – and deciding that something is an explanation of some fact or phenomenon is not as straightforward as it seems. Explanations can operate at different levels and we may decide that different explanations are more or less relevant for different kinds of systems.

    An example of this is the use of the concept of “stances” as applied by philosopher DC Dennett. Dennett suggests that any phenomenon or system can predicted – which is not the same as explained, but stay with me – from (at least) three different stances: the physical, design and intentional stance. The kind of predictions you apply will start from very different positions, and these positions are, in a sense explanations of the systems themselves. The physcial stance explains what we are studying as governed by physical laws and phenomena, the design stance looks to the purpose of the system’s design and the intentional stance explains a system as having intentions and emotions.

    The way we approach predicting a system is related to how we explain it, albeit not in an entirely straightforward way – and Dennett’s stances are powerful mental models. They apply, among other things, to the analysis of computer systems. Someone who takes an algorithmic stance is doing something that is very close to someone taking the physical stance, whereas someone who takes an architectural stance is much more akin to someone who takes a design stance. The question of AI, then, is essentially a question of when we take an intentional stance to software – very crudely put.

    DC Dennett has contributed to plenty to the question of how we understand, predict and – perhaps – explain systems.

    When policy makers demand that tech companies explain what their systems do, it would be helpful if they could agree on what stance it is that they are taking – since algorithmic stances may very well be as useless as the physical stance is when explaining how a car works or why an ant hill behaves in a certain way.

    Now, explanations are not just interesting because they allow us to predict systems in different ways. They are also interesting because we can optimize them in different ways.

    In a recent paper, two researchers looked at what it is that we are valuing in explanations and found that there are (at least) two different dimensions along which we can evaluate an explanation. The parsimony of the explanation and the co-explanatory value that an explanation may have. The first dimension looks at how compressed the explanation is – what is the shortest program I can write that produces this system / pattern – but co-explanation looks at how many other things an explanation can order in one and the same explanatory pattern.

    In an interesting application, the authors suggest that conspiracy theories are examples of over-optimizations on the co-explanatory axis, where we seek one underlying cause that explains everything that is happening. Conspiracy theories are attempts – as I have suggested elsewhere (in Swedish) – to compress the program you need to explain the world in a way that generates everything from a single set of initial conditions.

    So what kind of explainer are you? Which stance do you prefer and do you seek parsimony or inclusive co-explanations? And more importantly – can you use these different mental models to shift between stances and value dimensions in explanations, and learn something new about what you study?

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