Friday, December 31, 2010

Fight Club #17: Being Wrong

After a dry conversation about epistemology and the inevitability of being wrong, a question put before the group was: "do you believe in something so strongly that you would die for it?"

Michael tried to make the distinction between a "belief" and a "value." He described a belief as a statement in your mind that you hold with some degree of certainty (e.g., socialism is less productive than capitalism) versus a value which is a statement of how things ought to be (e.g., society should defend pluralism). He confused these things as separate sets, when in fact values are just a subset of beliefs; values are normative beliefs.

Why bother pointing this out? Because "values" should be treated no differently than "beliefs." All beliefs are subject to revision in the face of new data or deeper reasoning. Values should be treated exactly the same way. For instance, the value of miscegenation (i.e., keeping races separated is better for society) has been revised in the last century. The danger of making values any different than standard beliefs is that people will go to greater lengths to uphold it despite evidence of harm or inconsistency (e.g., apartheid). Ideally people could change their values as prudently and dispassionately as they would any other belief; for instance deciding that a market for donated organs is not repugnant, just as the same way as you come to decide that Google is overvalued.

David tried to swerve us away from the dusty philosophic chatter, when he talked about the experience of being wrong, and the importance of forgiving yourself. This brings an interesting classification of being wrong: errors of reasoning vs "human weakness." It strikes me that reasoning errors don't create the type of internal guilt that would require forgiveness. For example, if I conclude that political donations aren't a good business investment after ten years of donating, I might wish I had the money back, but you live and learn. On the other hand, if I gambled away the kids' education fund on a trip to Vegas, despite knowing the odds but hoping for a short-cut gain and a thrill along the way, then I should be guilty.

This brings me back to planning. The most interesting moral problems to are defined by choosing a smaller, more-certain, short-term gain without regard to longer-term repercussions. In fact, I think the essence of morality is defined by an acceptable duration to an event horizon. This duration could be a week, a year, or three generations. Depending on this duration, some actions could be judged both moral and immoral.

Think of every plan or action as having a short and long-term expected impact. For example consider two projects.

1. Gamble-education-fund-project
Short-term impact:
  • Thrill: likelihood 99%
  • Profit likelihood: 5%
  • Breakeven likelihood: 20%
  • Some loss likelihood: 50%
  • Wipeout likelihood: 25%
Long-term impact:
  • If profit, use profits to take a vacation in next year
  • If some loss, work harder to make up the difference for next five years
  • If wipeout, fail to provide kids education in 15 years
2. Pursue-masters-in-computer-science-project
Short-term impact:
  • Loss of income for two years
  • Loss of capital for tuition
Long-term impact:
  • Better earnings potential, expected breakeven in five years
  • More fulfilling career, greater prestige, greater flexiblity in ten years
Now consider two event horizons: three months vs thirty years. Clearly if you take the thirty-year's view, the gambling project is immoral. If you take the three-months view (e.g., terminal disease, last chance for fun), the gambling project doesn't sound so bad.

Extending this idea one step further, as human societies mature, the event horizon is pushed out further and further. In cave men times, morality might have been defined by an event horizon of a week. In medieval times, society thought in terms of years. In modern times, we think in terms of a generation. Perhaps the evolution of morality is the gradual increase in the duration to the event horizon.

...

Philosophy is like weight training; it's necessary to master for any sport, but is not itself an Olympic sport. The Olympic sports are science, ethics, political economy, business admin and management, and engineering.


Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Fight Club #15: Fischl

Eric Fischl joined us tonight, after taking pictures of Susan for a portrait. He's not a photographer, despite being a famous and well-paid painter and sculptor, but he works from photographs.

Ambition. He clearly said that he had the ambition to be a great artist, to have a seat at the table in art history.

Drawing vs Painting: Interesting discussion with the lack of education and whether he would have ended up in the same place if he had a more formal art education. But art saved his life.

Photographs vs Life: The awkward moments captured. 1/32 of a second, instead of the movements summed up in observations from life. And then comes Photoshop!

Role of Education: The art education you get Cooper Union (we know from my dad, and David Rosenfeld's too) is serious and classic. The art education you get at the California Institute for the Arts (we know from Fischl) was lax and permissive. It didn't provide him with rigid skills or direction. As a result he graduated incomplete as an artist and had to fill in the blanks as he went along. Good question from the audience: "do you think you would have been as significant an artist, if you had a more serious art education?" He couldn't say either way.

Other Topics: Growing up in Port Washington: Alcoholism, inside/outside, voyeurism.

Patron: that worked out.

Dealer: that worked out even better.

He Paints Suburbia. In the ancient days, the center of action was the nobility or he military. Then came the theologians and academics. Then the industrial titans, and then the city sophisticates. All worthy subjects of art. But sometime in the 50's was born the suburbs, and a worthy subject of art it was not.

That is until Eric Fischl started to paint it in the 80's, showing it's depth and meaning. Masturbating boys, naked people on lawn chairs, lovers, actors.

Sure there's plenty of growing old, slowly, week by week. But in my suburban crowd at least, there's circulation of people and ideas to compete with any other place. A wasteland of compromises and desiccated dreams? That's the hollywood version. Instead it's the clay of reality--moldable, warm, smells like the earth in late April.

Here's something to help remember it: pictures.