Libertarians claim that everything would be better if government got out the business of, well, government. If everything were privatized and government were non-existent, people would just get along, and no one would ever try to take advantage of others unfairly.
I propose we test this hypothesis. We should set aside an area of land where absolutely no laws will be enforced. Maybe somewhere in Alaska, or perhaps eastern Africa. If what the libertarians say is true, it should become a utopian wonderland full of rainbows and unicorns. As more people want to go there the area can be expanded as necessary.
On the other hand, if it turns into a poor, violent hellhole, well...
Monday, March 21, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Taxes are not Theft
In fact, without taxes, theft doesn't really have a meaning.
The thing is, property is not an objective reality. There is no empirical test you can perform that will determine if an object belongs to someone, and to who. Property is a social convention.
You only own something to the extent that you control it. You have it, and someone else doesn't. But someone bigger and stronger than you can take your stuff, and there's nothing you can do about it. Even if you're the biggest strongest person there is, a group of people can overpower you.
One of government's functions is to protect property rights. If you own something, someone bigger than you isn't allowed to just take it from you. And if they try, well, government is the biggest one around. And government needs taxes to operate. You need funds to pay for the police who will stop people from stealing.
Without taxes, the enforcement of property rights collapses, and property ceases to exist. And you can't have theft without property.
Beyond even that, taxes pay for roads and other infrastructure, which you're in debt to, even if you don't use it directly. Even if you don't own a car, you still get a benefit out of roads, because grocery stores you shop at are supplied via roads. Even if you have never needed medical care in your life, public medical care benefits you by herd immunity. The list goes on.
Wanting to get these benefits without paying for them is closer to stealing than taxes are.
The thing is, property is not an objective reality. There is no empirical test you can perform that will determine if an object belongs to someone, and to who. Property is a social convention.
You only own something to the extent that you control it. You have it, and someone else doesn't. But someone bigger and stronger than you can take your stuff, and there's nothing you can do about it. Even if you're the biggest strongest person there is, a group of people can overpower you.
One of government's functions is to protect property rights. If you own something, someone bigger than you isn't allowed to just take it from you. And if they try, well, government is the biggest one around. And government needs taxes to operate. You need funds to pay for the police who will stop people from stealing.
Without taxes, the enforcement of property rights collapses, and property ceases to exist. And you can't have theft without property.
Beyond even that, taxes pay for roads and other infrastructure, which you're in debt to, even if you don't use it directly. Even if you don't own a car, you still get a benefit out of roads, because grocery stores you shop at are supplied via roads. Even if you have never needed medical care in your life, public medical care benefits you by herd immunity. The list goes on.
Wanting to get these benefits without paying for them is closer to stealing than taxes are.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
There is Evidence for God
Something many atheists claim is that there is no evidence for god or religion. Not one single bit of evidence at all. But that's not true. It's frequently talked about as if it were an all or nothing kind of thing. As if all the evidence points one way or the other. But, it's possible for there to be evidence for something that's false.
There is evidence for god. It's weak evidence, and clearly overwhelmed by the evidence against, but it's still there. It's not nothing.
The biggest piece of evidence I can think of is that the vast majority of people believe in god. And this is not argumentum ad populum, but rather a probabilistic, Bayesian point of view. Which is more likely? The probability that so many people would believe in god given that god exists, or the probability that so many people would believe in god given that god doesn't exist? I think people are more likely to believe in something true rather than something false, especially if it interacts with them personally. Of course, people are willing to believe all sorts of crazy shit, so it's not much more likely. Which is why it's very weak evidence.
There is evidence for god. It's weak evidence, and clearly overwhelmed by the evidence against, but it's still there. It's not nothing.
The biggest piece of evidence I can think of is that the vast majority of people believe in god. And this is not argumentum ad populum, but rather a probabilistic, Bayesian point of view. Which is more likely? The probability that so many people would believe in god given that god exists, or the probability that so many people would believe in god given that god doesn't exist? I think people are more likely to believe in something true rather than something false, especially if it interacts with them personally. Of course, people are willing to believe all sorts of crazy shit, so it's not much more likely. Which is why it's very weak evidence.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Identity and Intuition
If you were to be perfectly duplicated in every respect, would the duplicate be you?
Intuitively, the answer is no. I'm me, and the duplicate is the duplicate. But intuition is not perfect. Our intuition is a shortcut rule-of-thumb for life on the savannah. In a radically different environment, or different circumstances, intuition is not a helpful guide at all, and can easily lead you astray.
Consider, for instance, relativity. If you see one person running at six miles an hour in one direction, and another person running at six miles an hour in the other direction, what speed will the first see the second one going? Intuitively, and correctly, twelve miles an hour. But what if you see one spaceship moving at 2.9x10^8 meters per second, and another moving the same speed in the opposite direction? Will the one spaceship see the other moving at 5.8x10^8 m/s? No, it will see it moving at 2.999x10^8 m/s. Because velocity addition is not really u+v as we intuit, but rather (u+v)/(1+uv/c^2). It's just that at low speeds, the speeds we evolved with, the difference is imperceptible.
And similarly, we never evolved in an environment where people were perfectly duplicated. Our intuition isn't equipped to deal with that situation. So to answer that question, we can't rely on our intuition. We need something more than that.
Intuitively, the answer is no. I'm me, and the duplicate is the duplicate. But intuition is not perfect. Our intuition is a shortcut rule-of-thumb for life on the savannah. In a radically different environment, or different circumstances, intuition is not a helpful guide at all, and can easily lead you astray.
Consider, for instance, relativity. If you see one person running at six miles an hour in one direction, and another person running at six miles an hour in the other direction, what speed will the first see the second one going? Intuitively, and correctly, twelve miles an hour. But what if you see one spaceship moving at 2.9x10^8 meters per second, and another moving the same speed in the opposite direction? Will the one spaceship see the other moving at 5.8x10^8 m/s? No, it will see it moving at 2.999x10^8 m/s. Because velocity addition is not really u+v as we intuit, but rather (u+v)/(1+uv/c^2). It's just that at low speeds, the speeds we evolved with, the difference is imperceptible.
And similarly, we never evolved in an environment where people were perfectly duplicated. Our intuition isn't equipped to deal with that situation. So to answer that question, we can't rely on our intuition. We need something more than that.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Cribbage
Cribbage is a fun card game. In it, you're dealt six cards, and you have to discard two. Afterwards, a starter card is drawn. The four cards you're left with and the starter card determine how many points your hand has. (There's of course more to the game than just that, but that's what's relevant.)
The scoring works like this:
His nobs - If you have a jack of the same suit as the starter card, that's 1 point. (If that starter card is a jack, that's something different and gets counted at a different time.)
Flush - If your hand has all cards the same suit, that's 4 points. If the starter card is the same suit too, that's another 1. After this, there's no difference between the starter card and the ones in your hand.
Pairs - For each pair you have, you get two points. Note that cards can be counted multiple times, so if you have a 4H, 4D, 4S, that's three pairs (4H, 4D), (4H, 4S) and (4D, 4S) for 6 points.
Straights - If you have three or more cards in a row (like 3, 4, 5) you get as many points as the straight is long. Personally, this seems somewhat inconsistent, since a straight of four is also two straights of three, which would get you 6 points instead of 4.
Fifteens - For each sum of fifteen you can make, you get 2 points. All face cards count as ten. Cards can again be counted multiple times, so if you have two tens, and two fives, that's four fifteens for 8 points.
Anyway, I was curious as to what the average hand value would be if you always discarded so as to give your hand as many points as possible (which you don't actually always want to do, because of other parts of the game, but oh well). So I made a program which goes through all 20,358,520 possible hands of six you can be dealt, and finds the best two to discard, taking into account the different possible starters cards.
All told, it ended up running for about 18 days. But it did finish. And here are the results.
The average hand value is 8.29 points.
The most frequently discarded rank is king at 11.56% of all discards.
After that is queen at 9.85%
8 at 9.30%
7 at 8.85%
Ace at 8.78%
9 at 8.37%
2 at 8.27%
10 at 8.02%
3 at 6.72%
6 at 6.55%
Jack at 6.14%
4 at 5.39%
5 at 2.17%
The scoring works like this:
His nobs - If you have a jack of the same suit as the starter card, that's 1 point. (If that starter card is a jack, that's something different and gets counted at a different time.)
Flush - If your hand has all cards the same suit, that's 4 points. If the starter card is the same suit too, that's another 1. After this, there's no difference between the starter card and the ones in your hand.
Pairs - For each pair you have, you get two points. Note that cards can be counted multiple times, so if you have a 4H, 4D, 4S, that's three pairs (4H, 4D), (4H, 4S) and (4D, 4S) for 6 points.
Straights - If you have three or more cards in a row (like 3, 4, 5) you get as many points as the straight is long. Personally, this seems somewhat inconsistent, since a straight of four is also two straights of three, which would get you 6 points instead of 4.
Fifteens - For each sum of fifteen you can make, you get 2 points. All face cards count as ten. Cards can again be counted multiple times, so if you have two tens, and two fives, that's four fifteens for 8 points.
Anyway, I was curious as to what the average hand value would be if you always discarded so as to give your hand as many points as possible (which you don't actually always want to do, because of other parts of the game, but oh well). So I made a program which goes through all 20,358,520 possible hands of six you can be dealt, and finds the best two to discard, taking into account the different possible starters cards.
All told, it ended up running for about 18 days. But it did finish. And here are the results.
The average hand value is 8.29 points.
The most frequently discarded rank is king at 11.56% of all discards.
After that is queen at 9.85%
8 at 9.30%
7 at 8.85%
Ace at 8.78%
9 at 8.37%
2 at 8.27%
10 at 8.02%
3 at 6.72%
6 at 6.55%
Jack at 6.14%
4 at 5.39%
5 at 2.17%
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Ship of Theseus a.k.a. Grandfather's Axe
There's an old philosophical puzzle. Suppose you have a wooden boat. You notice some of the planks are getting rotten, so you replace them. Is it still the same boat? As time goes on, you replace the planks one by one, until every single plank making the boat has been replaced. Is it still the same boat?
Alternatively, your grandfather's axe is a family heirloom. But when your father got it, he replaced the head, and when you got it, you replaced the handle. Is it still the same axe?
I posit that identity cannot be determined by the identities of the constituent parts.
First, I'll assume that identity is something that can be discerned - that is it's something that can be determined by observation. Intuitively, this makes sense. If you see two boats, you can distinguish them by how they look, even if they switch positions, or change by small amounts. Even if you have two boats made the same, there will be minute differences that can distinguish them. And the same with the planks. You can tell two planks apart.
But the fundamental constituents of matter have no such identity. An electron is an electron is an electron. All electrons are indistinguishable, and provably so. If you had an electron, and you put it in a box full of other electrons, it would not be possible to find your initial electron again. In fact, there isn't such a thing. Initially, there was one electron in your hand, and many electrons in your box. Then there were many+1 electrons in your box. The one electron cannot be uniquely tracked. It has no identity.
What this means is that if you have, say, a hydrogen atom, and then instantaneously swap out the electron with a different one... Then nothing has changed. Nothing has been done. If that hydrogen atom had an identity, it could not have changed, even if every single subatomic particle in it had been swapped at the same time.
On the macroscopic scale, things can have identity, because they aren't indistinguishable. They have different particles in different configurations following different patterns.
Identity is one of those things that makes sense in our experience, but which breaks down in extreme thought experiments because it has no fundamental truth to it and our flawed conceptions were only meant to work with what we have experience with.
Alternatively, your grandfather's axe is a family heirloom. But when your father got it, he replaced the head, and when you got it, you replaced the handle. Is it still the same axe?
I posit that identity cannot be determined by the identities of the constituent parts.
First, I'll assume that identity is something that can be discerned - that is it's something that can be determined by observation. Intuitively, this makes sense. If you see two boats, you can distinguish them by how they look, even if they switch positions, or change by small amounts. Even if you have two boats made the same, there will be minute differences that can distinguish them. And the same with the planks. You can tell two planks apart.
But the fundamental constituents of matter have no such identity. An electron is an electron is an electron. All electrons are indistinguishable, and provably so. If you had an electron, and you put it in a box full of other electrons, it would not be possible to find your initial electron again. In fact, there isn't such a thing. Initially, there was one electron in your hand, and many electrons in your box. Then there were many+1 electrons in your box. The one electron cannot be uniquely tracked. It has no identity.
What this means is that if you have, say, a hydrogen atom, and then instantaneously swap out the electron with a different one... Then nothing has changed. Nothing has been done. If that hydrogen atom had an identity, it could not have changed, even if every single subatomic particle in it had been swapped at the same time.
On the macroscopic scale, things can have identity, because they aren't indistinguishable. They have different particles in different configurations following different patterns.
Identity is one of those things that makes sense in our experience, but which breaks down in extreme thought experiments because it has no fundamental truth to it and our flawed conceptions were only meant to work with what we have experience with.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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