The Big Questions
Those authors' books typically marshall a large amount of research data and evidence in support of a thesis that seems contrarian but turns out to be probably true. The Big Questions (released November 3rd with a companion website and blog doesn't do that. The book is divided into many self-contained vignettes and side topics and independent arguments, which are based more on logic and reasoning than externally gathered evidence, and the arguments don't always convince you of the conclusions. But that's part of the fun: many of the arguments in the book are structured so rigorously, almost like mathematical proofs, that if you disagree the conclusion, the challenge is to figure out why you think the conclusion is wrong. (Nobody ever scribbled equations in the margins of Malcolm Gladwell's books trying to figure out if he was "right".)
You'll probably enjoy the book the most if the following are true for you:
- You enjoyed math all the way through high school, especially the paradoxes that seemed to grow out of elementary rules of logic or probability. Sometimes the paradoxes resulted from a flaw in one of the reasoning steps, so that identifying the flaw led to a deeper understanding of how to conduct those steps. And sometimes there really is no flaw in the reasoning, so that the conclusion, no matter how counterintuitive, must be true.
- Eventually, though, you ran out of "paradoxes" that could be described in the language of intermediate mathematics. There are other paradoxes lurking in mathematics, of course (like the celebrated Banach-Tarski paradox), but most of them require you to learn so much mathematics just to understand the paradox, that there aren't enough hours in the day.
- So, you'd be delighted to discover paradoxes in an entirely new field, where arguments built from elementary rules of logic, lead to a conclusion that seems at first to make no sense, but leads to a deeper understanding the more you think about it.
The core philosophy of The Big Questions -- not embodying any of the conclusions, but rather the rules of the game by which those conclusions should be reached -- is expressed in two lines near the end:
If you're objecting to a logical argument, try asking yourself exactly which line in that argument you're objecting to. If you can't identify the locus of your disagreement, you're probably just blathering.
(This quote makes Landsburg sound grumpier than he is; at this point in the book,
he's just coming off of describing
an exhausting round of e-mail argument with another professor who he felt was not playing
by these rules.) I've believed this passionately for a long time, and to me it seems
trivially true anyway: If an argument is organized into a series of steps, and you disagree
with the conclusion, then some step in the argument must be the first step
you disagree with, and if the author feels like each step in their argument follows by
airtight logic from the previous step, then that's the point at which one of the two
players is wrong.
There's nothing
more exasperating to me than writing what I think is a well-reasoned logical argument,
sending it to the intended audience, and getting back a reply which makes it obvious that
the recipient simply read my conclusion, disagreed with it, cleared their throat, and
started typing out paragraphs describing their own view. Which they're entitled to,
but they missed the point -- I was hoping that if they disagreed with my argument, they
could pinpoint exactly what part they disagreed with. (If they had replied with
their own argument structured like a sequence of logical steps, then that would at least
be a tit-for-tat exchange, but that rarely happens -- people who believe in forming their
arguments like rigorous proofs, usually also like to find the error in logical arguments
that lead to the opposite conclusion.)
To give you some of the flavor:
One chapter in The Big Questions
contains an elegant argument against protectionist tariffs: Suppose that
an American sells cameras for $80 but a foreigner wants to sell cameras in America for
$60 apiece. An American who would have bought the $80 camera will now buy the $60
camera and hence is better off by $20. The seller now has to sell their own cameras
for $60 to stay competitive, so they are worse off by at most $20 -- however,
if they voluntarily switch to some other business, then they'll be better off than
they were when they were selling cameras for $60, and therefore worse off by some
amount less than $20 from their original position. So on balance, abolishing
protectionist tariffs would be good for Americans.
"Therefore," writes Landsburg, "it seems to me that the protectionist's position
is even less respectable than
the creationist's. If you're convinced that most scientists are liars -- that everything they
say about fossils, for example, is false -- then you can be a logically consistent creationist.
But you can't be a logically consistent protectionist."
But the best part of reading an argument like that is to try and come up with a counter-argument
that is equally rigorous.
I think Landsburg is right, but only insofar as it applies to benefits to Americans.
That leaves out another part of the equation: whether the production
of cheaper foreign goods is harmful to foreigners providing the cheap labor. The textbook
answer from economic theory is that the factory jobs must make workers better off (or at least
no worse off) than they were before, otherwise they wouldn't have taken the jobs voluntarily.
On the other hand, conditions in overseas sweatshops are so notoriously dangerous and
unpleasant that it seems hard to believe the opportunities leave workers better off on balance.
So you could be a logically consistent protectionist if you believe that:
(a) sweatshop workers systematically underestimate how much the factory jobs are harming them;
and (b) the harm done to the workers outweighs the benefits of lower prices for Americans.
I'm not sure if these statements are true, but they are logically consistent. Still,
Landsburg's argument is about as concise as possible and seems to refute any argument that
protectionism makes
Americans better off on average.
In another chapter, Landsburg discusses the recent atheist bestsellers such as Richard Dawkins's
The God Delusion and suggests that these books are really directed against a non-existent
enemy, because the evidence is quite strong that most adults do not really believe the tenets
of any major religion anyway.
There is the argument that "interfaith dialog" makes no
sense if you really believe (as many major religions teach) that your own religion's tenets are
settled beyond discussion. There is the argument that since economic theory consistently
shows that people
respond to threat of punishment, virtually no one behaves as if they actually
believe in everlasting damnation after death as punishment for sin. And the
fact that the voluntary martyrdom of suicide
bombers is vastly more rare than most people believe, and a disproportionate number of those are
children (as Landsburg says, "I do not deny that
many children believe in God, just as I do not deny that many children believe in Santa
Claus"). I'd wondered before about how many people really did believe in God, but in just
a few pages this argument had me thinking that the number was a lot lower than I'd ever thought before.
On the other hand, there were some arguments that I didn't spend much time puzzling over at
all. Landsburg summarizes the paradox of "free will", and his
dismissal of the paradox, basically as follows: The interactions
of atoms that make up our brains and our environments, are deterministic processes, so if
you know the state of a system at a given point in time, you could predict the state at
any future point in time if you had enough computational power (with a caveat about the
randomness possibly introduced by quantum physics).
"Where, then, is there room for free will?...
Easy: There is room for free will on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, as the
human being in question engages in deliberations that ultimately cause his actions."
He says that just as "weather" is shorthand for the aggregate of the interactions of
trillions of water molecules, "free will" is the same kind of shorthand:
"What caused your decision to get drunk and watch Mystery Science Theater the night before your philosophy final? Free will. An insane person might object that free will can't be it at all, because free will is just a shorthand term for an indescribably complex process involving trillions of neurons, which in turn can be described in terms of quadrillions of atoms and quintillions of subatomic particles. So what? You still have free will, and you know it."
I wrote Landsburg to object
that this misses what people really mean by "free will" -- it's not just
a shorthand term for the aggregate of particle interactions that make up human choices.
It means, very specifically, that you could possibly have done something other
than what you did. Landsburg replied to this objection by e-mail:
"I dispute that there is any way to make sense of a phrase like
'could possibly have done something else'. I know what it means
to say you did something; spacetime consists of all the things
that get done; it is what it is." And I agree; it's hard to pin down what
the statement means.
But it underlies all of our instincts and intuition about human choices and blame:
"You could have called yesterday, but you didn't." "I should have studied harder last
night."
If determinism is true, then these statements make no sense, and therein lies what I think
most people mean then they refer to the paradox of determinism vs. free will. I think the
issue deserves more thought than it's given in the book.
This is followed by a passage arguing that the controversy over "ESP" is silly, because
of course everyone knows certain things by "extra-sensory perception", if by that you mean "things
perceived not through the senses" -- like mathematical truths, which are arrived at through
thought and not sensory input.
Writes Landsburg:
"Some of those phenomena have one additional characteristic: They are
physically impossible. But if you're going to define ESP by its impossibility, then of course
there's no point in debating it...
And
if impossibility is not a criterion, then mathematical insight is as good an example of ESP --
in the everyday sense of the term -- as any instance of clairvoyance or telepathy."
Actually, I think the everyday use of the word "ESP" refers to perceiving
facts that do not logically have to be true (so mathematical facts are excluded) --
like "Someone is watching me right now" -- without sensory input. And, once you clarify the
definition, most people agree there's no evidence for it, so the whole discussion seems uninteresting.
But even if you throw out 75% of the book's arguments (which is far more than
I rejected), you should still enjoy puzzling through the remaining 25% and forming your own conclusions.
The most interesting argument in the book, to me, is about how to properly answer the
question: How much should the government be willing to spend, to save the life of one of it's
citizens? Of course if you're Ayn Rand, the answer is zero, but if you want to answer the
question according to the laws of economic efficiency, it's a tough one. Landsburg originally
got into the debate by writing a
column arguing that ventilator support was not
the most efficient way to help the poor. (Unfortunately, he couched it in the language of
"ventilator insurance", which I think clouded the issue. I think it would have been more clear
to say: "If we're going to spend this money to help the poor at all, it would make more sense
to spend it on groceries for a far larger number of people, than to spend it on ventilator
support for one person.") Another more liberal economist, Robert Frank, responded
with a New York Times
editorial arguing with
Landsburg's methods and coming up with his own reasoning. I think there are problems with
the reasoning on both sides (not logical errors, but rather situations in which the rules
that they have adopted, lead to paradoxes and untenable positions -- suggesting that both sides'
axioms have to be thrown out), but I still don't know the answer. (My own
opinion about the flaws in their logic, and an alternative answer, is at this link:
"How much
should government spend to save a single life?")
The Big Questions also has excursions into areas of science and mathematics that I had never fully
understood before, and in some cases hadn't even thought about. Landsburg describes how
he had first learned that colors could be arranged continuously into a color wheel, and later
learned that they could be arranged continuously along a line according to their wavelengths,
and then a friend pointed out the contradiction. Which is it? Do colors vary continuously
in two dimensions (forming a wheel) or one (forming a line)? Or, wait a minute, we measure
colors according to the strength of their red, green, and blue components, so don't they
vary continuously in three dimensions? Well, the answer is in there.
There are also chapters on Heisenberg's uncertainty principle, Gödel's incompleteness
theorem, and the quantum phenomenon of
"spooky action at a distance",
which explain all of the concepts more clearly than I'd ever heard them explained anywhere
else. I think that most writers attempting to explain these concepts err either on the side
of being too precise -- determined that everything they right be correct, with no
regard for whether they reader grasps it or not -- or too vague -- giving the general air
of mystery, but not explaining the rules governing how a phenomenon works, and how to work
with those rules to derive other conclusions from them. Landsburg's chapter simply
begins,
"This chapter is full of lies. That's because I'll be explaining the foundations of quantum
mechanics, and I assume that if you wanted a careful accounting of every detail, you'd be
reading a textbook." The text then gives an example of considering an electron that
moves in a conceptual "circle", where at some points on the circle it has a greater
probability of manifesting itself in one location if you examine it,
and at other points it has a greater
probability of manifesting itself in another location. He uses this to dispel a common
misconception about the uncertainty principle:
You're just idly wondering where the electron is. In most circumstances, quantum mechanics says that it's quite impossible for you to know the answer to that question.
Aha! A fundamental limitation on human knowledge, no? No. Here's why: Most of the time, the electron is nowhere. Asking "Where is the electron?" is akin to asking "What is the electron's favorite movie?". It's a nonsense question. The inability to answer nonsense questions is not a fundamental limitation on knowledge.
How can the electron be nowhere? Because electrons behave nothing at all like anything you're familiar with. Instead of a location, the electron has a quantum state.
This clarified something for me that had bugged me for years.
I never took a course in quantum physics, but I had indeed always assumed that
electrons did have a "location" and the uncertainty principle referred to a limit on our ability
to determine that location.
Unfortunately there are probably many people who get through an
entire course in quantum physics without getting this cleared up.
Balanced against these valuable insights are some libertarian arguments that are probably nothing you
haven't heard before, especially if you have read of one of Landsburg's earlier books,
Fair Play -- subtitled "What your child can teach you about economics, values,
and the meaning of life", although the book was clearly about what he was teaching to
his daughter.
Many reviewers of Fair Play took note of
passages like this one:
Most people have instinctive sympathy for the man who says "I tried for months to get a job and nobody would hire me. Only in desperation did I turn to theft." The same people have only scorn for the man who says "I tried for months to get a date and nobody would go out with me. Only in desperation did I turn to rape."
While I think most rape victims would have some choice words about the comparison,
I was more unpersuaded because the passage wasn't structured like a
true argument.
In a good argument -- like Landsburg's earlier argument against protectionist tariffs --
-- you start with premises that seem apparently true, proceed
by steps that seem apparently valid, and end with a conclusion that may not have been
obvious from the outset. But in this case, the premise is the argument --
either you think rape and theft are comparable, or you don't. I don't think they are,
because (a) the harm to a rape victim is out of proportion to the "benefit" to the rapist,
and (b) notwithstanding the claims of college males, you won't actually die without sex.
(Just as a thought experiment, if you would die without sex, and a man hadn't
been able to get any women to sleep with him, and the government didn't provide any sort
of sex "safety net", more people probably would feel sympathy for the rapist, if he only
did it to save his own life.)
Some passages in The Big Questions are recycled from Fair Play
and require a (just) slightly more thoughtful rebuttal. Landsburg argues that most
parents, deep down, must not believe in redistributive taxation because
"I have never, ever, heard a parent say to a child that it's okay to forcibly take toys away from other children who have more toys than you do. Nor have I ever heard a parent tell a child that if one kid has more toys than the others, then it's okay for those others to form a 'government' and vote to take those toys away."
OK, but... I have also never
heard a parent tell their child that it was OK to build a "jail" and put other kids in that
"jail" for wrongdoing. And yet almost everyone, even libertarians, supports some form of
imprisonment for lawbreakers. The lesson here is that there are some powers that are appropriate
to delegate to a democratically elected government, with all the right checks and balances, but
that you don't want random vigilantes seizing for themselves. So if you want a principled
argument against taxation, it would take more than that.
And other passages in Fair Play deservedly did not make the cut of being imported
into The Big Questions:
The massacre at Waco took place only days after my daughter (then aged six) had asked me how the government uses our tax dollars. When she walked in on the television coverage of flamed and carnage, I told her that now she was seeing the answer to her question. And when she heard that there were children in there, that they were burning children, her eyes grew wide with horror, and I both hope and believe that she will never forget that moment.
If you want 230 pages of that, then Fair Play is the book for you!
Of the libertarian arguments that did get carried over into The Big Questions,
I think the problem with most of them is not that I think the conclusion is wrong, but, again,
that the whole argument is the premise, and if you disagree with the premise then there's
nothing to think about. For example:
Bert wants to hire an office manager and Ernie wants to manage an office. The law allows Ernie to refuse any job for any reason. If he doesn't like Albanians, he doesn't have to work for one. Bert is held to a higher standard: If he lets it be known that no Albanians need apply, he'd better have a damned good lawyer.
These asymmetries grate against the most fundamental requirement of fairness -- that people should be treated equally, in the sense that their rights and responsibilities should not change because of irrelevant external circumstances.
But I think the laws do treat all people equally, because they apply equally whether Bert is
discriminating in deciding whether to hire Ernie, or whether Ernie is discriminating in
deciding whether to hire Bert. The laws don't apply equally to all roles that people
play, which is the distinction that Landsburg is highlighting -- but laws never apply
equally to different roles, since roles are defined by what we do, and what is the point of
laws, except to draw distinctions based on behaviors? So there may be some other argument
against anti-discrimination laws, but "symmetry" by itself wouldn't be enough.
A footnote in this chapter of The Big Questions says,
"Portions of this chapter are adapted from my earlier book Fair Play." In the margin
where I'd been scribbling all of my notes and equations and counterarguments, I wrote, "That's what's
wrong with it!"
And yet, as I said, I would probably have paid up to about $200 for the book, based on
how much I enjoyed the parts that I did like. At one point Landsburg praises
an insight from Daniel Dennett and Douglas Hofstadter and adds, "You should read all their books."
Yes, and all of Richard Dawkins's and
Malcolm Gladwell's and Steven Pinker's and Dubner's and Levitt's books, for starters.
Landsburg himself would probably agree that it's more important to read those books,
than this one. But there's time in your life to read The Big Questions as well.
It's even structured so you can consume it in bite-sized portions while taking a break
from working your way through those other books -- which are, in truth, more valuable,
but not as much fun.
You can purchase The Big Questions: Tackling the Problems of Philosophy with Ideas from Mathematics, Economics and Physics from amazon.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
What caused your decision to get drunk and watch Mystery Science Theater the night before your philosophy final?
My god, it's like looking into a mirror.
Free will.
Oddly enough when I responded to the last question on the final by drawing parallels between getting drunk and watching MST3K with Krishnamurti's The First and Last Freedom , my professor assured me that it was sloven stupidity--not free will--and graded me accordingly.
My work here is dung.
Precisely because the big questions will never be answered by mathematics, economics and physics, but in the minds of mad apes trapped in a pointless existence.
As I get older, I still find myself an atheist, but I now longer feel logic and reason and math will ever prove God doesn't exist, and I no longer expect everyone to agree with me.
It's a "big" question to ask why there are atheistic best sellers?
most adults do not really believe the tenets of any major religion anyway.
Of course not. The question is, do most adults believe some of the tenets?
There is the argument that "interfaith dialog" makes no sense if you really believe (as many major religions teach) that your own religion's tenets are settled beyond discussion.
Ah yes. The "you have to have an open mind" argument. I guess evolution, global warming, and government health care debates, on the other hand, really ARE settled beyond discussion. [/sarcasm]. Seriously though - I know many major religions are of the gnostic type... hvae to have higher knowledge, enlightened, etc. But what exactly does "beyond discussion" mean? Not doubting/convinced? It seems that not-being-in-doubt and being-convinced are feelings reserved for atheists, now. Only someone dogmatically believing in the non-existence of an entity are allowed to be sure of their belief. Which is odd, since most logicians will tell you that it is much harder to prove non-existence than it is to prove existence. I wonder why Landsburg didn't mention that? Seems like that is a "big question" - why are many logicians and scientists atheists, since they are so careful not to deny existence of other things that we don't even have evidence for; they simply understand that denying existence is a big logical step in that you have to disprove every possible existence first. When it comes to the supernatural/God though, they are quite willing to believe in a non-existence and not be open to discussion. Why does Landsburg only pick on those who are convinced, perhaps illogically, that God does exist?
Incidentally, you can be illogically convinced to believe an correct thing, and you can be logically convinced to believe an incorrect thing. Logic is an argument; what you logically deduce or induce from makes a big difference, as your premise may be wrong, thus your conclusion could be wrong as well.
virtually no one behaves as if they actually believe in everlasting damnation after death as punishment for sin.
Most people don't behave like there is death at all. Most people don't want to talk about death, don't want to hear about death, and don't even want to think about death. Many people "defy" death and live like they won't die. I guess that means death doesn't actually exist! Cool!
I'd wondered before about how many people really did believe in God, but in just a few pages this argument had me thinking that the number was a lot lower than I'd ever thought before.
So without seeing any numbers and going entirely on the basis of logical deductions from unproved and perhaps disputed premises, you are coming to new conclusions on what people actually believe - without asking them.
I never said that, but the whole point of the scientific method is to weed out said prejudices.
Besides, the parent goes much beyond that and basically accuses the large majority of researchers in an area of research of knowingly publishing false information. That goes beyond "they're prejudiced" and basically calls them crooks. I'd challenge the parent to actually produce any such evidence. It's one thing to say "I don't agree with said theory" and quite another to say "they're liars".
The world's burning. Moped Jesus spotted on I50. Details at 11.
I have never seen an economist or "libertarian" give a convincing argument against protectionist tariffs.
OK I'm an amateur at both, I'll give it a try in support:
Suppose that an American sells cameras for $80 but a foreigner wants to sell cameras in America for $60 apiece.
OK, if it were a free market between equal players, you'd have a point. But it is not, because at least some players in the market are not free (the Chinese) and some players are kept ignorant thus cannot play the game fairly (the USA). The $80 camera was made in a facility that is at least semi-environmentally sound and respects at least some human rights, and the Chinese one is made by slaves working in an ecological disaster. We pretend that is unacceptable for humans to live like the Chinese, at least its unacceptable if they are Americans. So either its OK to save money by skipping all those human rights things, in which case we should do the same here (please don't be that stupid), or the Chinese are not humans like us (please don't be that stupid). Protectionist tariffs level the playing field at least partially, and are therefore critical economically for a free, libertarian market.
"Science flies us to the moon. Religion flies us into buildings." - Victor Stenger
I think there are at least two arguments that show that free will is not a trivial matter of definition as Landsburg apparently claims.
(1) Psychologists and neurologists have shown that people's explanations for their own actions can be wrong. E.g., you can have situations (with split-brain patients, for example) where they perform some voluntary action that they don't know the reasons for, and when you ask them why they did it, they give a made-up explanation that they themselves believe. To me, this suggests that it may be useful to consider free will as a psychological sensation similar to color or musical pitch, in which case it's a nontrivial phenomenon with a scientific explanation -- not a "yes/no" question that is a trivial matter of definition.
(2) Another argument is that the structure of Einstein's theory of general relativity is such that you have perfectly valid solutions to the field equations in which there are closed timelike curves (CTCs). A CTC means that you can have events A, B, and C, where A causes B, B causes C, and C causes A. We don't know if there are any realistic conditions in our universe under which they would exist (hence the chronology protection conjecture), but they're not logically or mathematically impossible. If a human being passes around such a CTC, you can get all kinds of paradoxes, e.g., older-me warns younger-me to avoid going around the CTC. Here is a nice summary of this kind of stuff: http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/time-travel-phys/ . Basically you have a situation where there is a physics question (are CTCs possible, and if so, how would they work?), where one of the strongest arguments available is based on the assumption of free will (the feeling that older-me can *choose* freely to warn younger-me away from the CTC). Again, there is no clearcut, trivial answer; free will comes up as one aspect of a more general, unsolved problem of how causality works. Some physical calculations suggest that there is nothing paradoxical about CTCs; see the stuff about the billiard balls in the link above.
Find free books.
First, "predatory" is a loaded adjective, and is meaningless in terms of economic activity. Is it "predatory" for people in one country to work for lower wages than the people in another country? Because that's the kind of "predatory" situation that is stopped by tariffs.
Yes, when the wage difference is due to social engineering governmental policies. Tariffs balance those differences out, thus creating a free(-er) market.
So, there is little need for US and German automakers to put tariffs on each other, because those governments are approximately, more or less equal. (I am sorry if I just insulted the entire German slashdot readership, my defense is its true, at least relative to my other example)
However, everything that China exports to the USA desperately needs USA import tariffs because the Chinese government actively encourages activities that the US government wisely will not permit USA companies to use, such as slave labor, no environmental controls at all, no worker safety regulations, limited/no health care (admittedly somewhat applies to USA), no product liability, no IP laws at all, industrial espionage is permitted (if not encouraged), etc.
Can't have a free market, when the players aren't equally free (or at least brought to mostly the same level by tariffs)
"Science flies us to the moon. Religion flies us into buildings." - Victor Stenger
I don't think those words mean what you think they mean. What you describe is exactly the opposite: a coercive, authoritarian market.
If you have protectionist tariffs then your market is neither free nor libertarian. If these tariffs were in fact "critical economically" then free, libertarian markets would be a contradiction. Fortunately, they're not.
Oh, I agree with you completely, tariffs ALONE would result in a coercive authoritarian market.
But we already have a coercive authoritarian market because of a seemingly infinite collection of government social engineering regulations.
At least some of the time, one simple tariff can cancel out the distorting effects of hundreds of govt social engineering regulations, leaving an almost free market. Thats why they are critical economically, not subtracting out the cost of regulations via tariffs is like not subtracting expenses from incomes to get profit, or something truly basic like that.
Example, using political prisoners is free for the Chinese, giving them a $10 unfair advantage over free Americans. No free market can exist. Adding a $10 tariff results in something almost like a free market.
Tariffs and government regulation must be balanced, they algebraically cancel each other, like yin and yang or whatever.
"Science flies us to the moon. Religion flies us into buildings." - Victor Stenger
From my own far-too-long-and-obsessive meditation on time travel:
A lot of people don't like this model because it would seem to eliminate any possibility of free will. Personally, I don't particularly worry about whether I have free will or not. If I do have free will, then I don't have to worry about it. If I don't, then there's no point in worrying about it. Either way...
But this model doesn't necessarily pose problems for free will. Consider normal ideas about time and free will. Your parents freely chose to have you, right? At the very least, their free choices led them to the point where they did have you, though hopefully they were happy about it.
Now, assuming no time travel, those choices cannot now be changed, right? They cannot now decide not to have had you. The moment of choice was back then, somewhere in the past. Once that choice was made, it was fixed. Assuming free will, it was not totally determined by what led up to it in some physical deterministic sense, but once made it could not be changed. This is not a constraint on free will.
Now, just by adding in time travel we needn't change anything about this. Choices are freely made at the moment they are decided. It's just that now it's possible to know what those free choices "were" at a point in time "before" the choice "will be" made. (English again forces us to use strange tenses to speak about this. Oh, well.) Remember, in this model, there is no privileged point we can pick out and call 'the present'. Every moment is past to some instants, future to others. Every moment is a "present".
(Note that some people use this idea to reconcile the idea of God knowing what we will do with the notion of free will. God, existing outside of time, doesn't ordain what people do, It just sees them doing it. I only bring it up to point out that lots of people have no problem in principle with the idea that they both have free will and yet someone knows with certainty what they will do. I don't see why it's any different if someone besides a God has that knowledge...)
If you see a movie of yourself from the future doing certain things tomorrow, from a certain perspective it doesn't mean that you are "fated" to do those things. It just means that you know, when that time comes around, that doing those things will seem to you to be the best available choice.
Perhaps the future choice seems silly, or even terrible. Well, can't you think of a moment where you've made a choice, and then later (perhaps only a second later) thought, "What was I thinking?" The fact that it seems unlikely to you that you will make that choice doesn't mean that you won't make it. People do things they never expected to do, even said they wouldn't do, all the time.
PHEM - party like it's 1997-2003!
I read his "More Sex is Safer Sex" and spent about half of it muttering "but you're ignoring a relevant factor...".
I see that the reviews at the Amazon page for that book:
http://www.amazon.com/More-Sex-Safer-Unconventional-Economics/dp/1416532226/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_2 ...agree with my assessment. Give the first couple a quick skim before buying this one. Many of his arguments read like he started off with the intention of writing somethingn entertainingly contrarian and counter-intuitive, then assembled an argument to defend it. And, of course, a book author has the advantage of only taking on arguments that he himself allows in the book, gets to decide which factors of the problem are relevant, and so on.
I did pass the test the reviewer offers here: I had specific points at which I disagreed with his argument. But I didn't find that fun; it's no fun halting all agreement with an argument at step 4 and having to go on and read steps 5-9 while holding a little asterisk in your head that says "none of this matters because 4 is clearly wrong".
As an example, the heart of his "more sex is safer sex" argument used in the title is that overall risk is reduced if *certain* *people*, those with lower odds of having disease, have more sex. Then the people they have sex with are having safer sex than if with someone else. Alas, it rests on the contention that if the "safer" people have more sex, every act *displaces* another sexual interaction - the possibility that simply more sex will occur, the added interactions being safer, but *not* displacing a less-safe one, is not allowed for. Recommending that certain prudent people have more sex, while assuming that the amount of total sex in the world will remain a constant, is not, to my mind, a safe assumption. But it wasn't slashdot; all I could do was sit there, frustrated at my inability to argue with the book.
So I'll give this one a miss. Thanks anyway.
"When was the last time a Hitchhiker's Guide reference on Slashdot was actually funny? Measured in months."
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