An Algorithmic Lucidity

Everyone knows ("everyone knows") about "scare quotes," where you enclose a phrase in quotation marks to indicate that the literal interpretation of the words should be regarded with skepticism, but sometimes I do this thing where I'll use a phrase normally and then repeat it in scare quotes and parentheses, as if to say, "I do partially intend this sincerely, but also with some irony or skepticism, although not so much as to justify outright scare quotes."

Of course, this practice immediately suggests the "dual" (dual) practice of using a phrase with scare quotes and then repeating it unquoted in parentheses, as if to say, "I do partially intend this ironically or in a way that should be regarded with skepticism, but also with a some sincerity, although not so much as to justify not using any scare quotes at all."

The Television Tropes & Idioms wiki has a page on the Sliding Scale of Idealism Versus Cynicism. Of course I understand why such a page exists, but part of me can't help but protest that it's not really a sliding scale. One of the most charming things about my native subculture is that we have heaps of both: cynicism in the style of "Humans are selfish, weak-willed hypocrites; the reasons people say they do things aren't always or even usually the real reasons, and even introspection itself is untrustworthy," and idealism in the style of "But knowing what we do now, we shall use the power of Reason to remake the world in accordance with our Values!"

When you encounter someone who expresses a political or social opinion that you find absolutely abhorrent, it is instructive to consider the extent to which this person is making a mistake, and the extent to which they simply have different values from you. Is this opinion something that they would immediately relinquish, if only they knew they knew the true facts of which they are now ignorant?—or is it reflective of some quality essential to their agency, a basic motive far too sacred to be destroyed by the truth?

(Of course, it is also instructive to consider whether you're making a mistake. But that is not the subject of this post.)

Some would say that it is useless to consider such questions, that human cognition doesn't separate cleanly into beliefs and values, and that even if such a thing could be done, it is futile for any present-day human to consider the matter, given our ignorance of our own psychology. And yet, the question still seems to make sense to me. If I can't know, I can guess. And I don't guess the same thing every time.

It's hard to say which extreme is more terrifying. In one scenario, you want to cry out to them, "Oh, you fool! You beautiful, beautiful fool! I love you and I want to be your friend, trust that I will always want to be your friend, but don't you see that the path you're taking can only lead to disaster? If you give me some time I can explain my reasoning precisely, but all the evidence points to the same conclusion: you must turn back now, I beg you, for the sake of everything we hold dear!"

But you know that wouldn't work, so you say nothing.

In the other scenario, you instinctively know that appeals to emotion or common goals would be a waste of precious time, so you frantically search an argument, some sequence of facts and reasoning that will convince them, convince any halfway-rational creature, to stop doing this terrible thing—but it's clear that no such argument exists. Any fact or reason you could offer would only be interpreted as evidence about reality, incorporated into their world-model, and used to persue their monstrous goals that much more efficiently.

You say nothing, but as you look into your enemy's eyes as they hasten the destruction of your world, you can't shake the feeling of having been understood.

It's how close you come to doing the Right Thing at each and every one of the uncounted millions of decision points that make up your life, with how you play in any particular game only constituting a tiny fraction of these, and it being not at all clear that choosing to play a game just then is closer to the Right Thing than any number of non-game-playing actions you might have chosen instead, but didn't.

Not specific enough.

"What?"

You claim that I'm an idiot. Well, sure; I already knew that. If you could point to some specific way in which my thinking is confused and explain how I might do better, then I would be quite grateful. But to just say that I'm stupid, without elaborating, doesn't seem helpful.

(Words are useful insofar as they summarize information about the world. If everyone involved already has a detailed predictive model of someone's various cognitive abilities, then it doesn't matter whether you describe them as an "idiot" or a "genius". As compared to what?)

I won't say I told you so except by means of apophasis.

By philosophy I understand the discipline of discovering truths about reality by means of thinking very carefully. Contrast to science, where we try to come up with theories that predict our observations. Philosophers of number have observed that the first ten trillion nontrivial zeros of the Riemann zeta function are on the critical line, but people don't speak of the Riemann hypothesis as being almost certainly true, not necessarily because they anticipate a counterexample lurking somewhere above ½ + 10²⁶i (although "large" counterexamples are not unheard-of in the philosophy of numbers), but rather because while empirical examination is certainly helpful, it's not really what we do. Mere empiricism is usually sufficient for knowing (with high probability) what is true, but as philosophers, we want to explain why, and moreover, why it could not have been otherwise.

When we try this on topics like numbers or shapes, it works really, really well: our philosophers quickly reach ironclad consensuses about matters far removed from human intuition. When we try it on topics like justice or existence ... it doesn't work so well. I think it's sad.

I reserve the right to arbitrarily change my beliefs or behavior at any time.