Theft

My rucksack was stolen in a cafe at St Pancras station on Saturday afternoon, literally from under my feet. The bag contained my laptop and my passport, which is particularly annoying since I was meant to fly to a conference on Monday morning. My travel plans are in disarray, although, hopefully, an emergency passport can be issued; and I had to shell out on a new laptop (not to mention a new rucksack, and new stationery, as the bag also contained pens that I was rather fond of). Expensive as it may be, passports and laptops may be replaced, and fortunately most of my work was backed up (only one day’s work was lost). I’ve never felt particularly attached to a passport: it is after all just a tool, albeit a very useful one, and one with a shorter lifespan than that of most working animals.

The same will not be true of a SD card on the laptop, which contains photos from my time as an undergraduate: irreplaceable memories. Nor is it possible to replace the notebook full of painstakingly handwritten notes, taken at various lectures and conferences. And perhaps the saddest realisation is that these things — an SD card that’s falling apart, a diary, a collection of scribbles, a half-composed piece of music, a draft of a paper — are worthless to him, and, 36 hours on, he has probably thrown them away.

I cannot know his motives for stealing bags. Perhaps he is in financial difficulties and needs to make some quick cash? Perhaps he is in danger of eviction, or worse, if he does not settle a debt? Or perhaps he was just greedy? In any case, the thief did not realise, or didn’t care about, the inconvenience and loss that he has inflicted on me, which does not translate into gain for him. He saw me as merely a victim, or a donor, a means to an end.

What’s so bad about that?

I actually saw the thief as he sat down near me, some minutes before he made away with my bag. I didn’t pay attention to him: I glanced at him, even made brief eye contact, then went back to talking with my friends and drinking my coffee. No smile, no recognition. I paid so little attention that I couldn’t remember anything about his face. I can’t say if he had glasses, or facial hair, or what clothes he was wearing. (Fortunately, a CCTV camera got a glimpse of him, and perhaps the police will be able to collate enough shots of him to identify him, although I don’t have high hopes of getting my stuff back.)

Did I see the humanity in him? Did I see him just as anything more than an unimportant background character?

He likely knows my name, if he’s looked at my passport, or anything else in the bag. Do I know him as anything other than ‘the thief’?

On nonviolence and the alt-right

The actions of the driver at the Charlottesville alt-right rally, who killed one person and injured another nineteen, are indefensible. So too are the views of the alt-right in general. But everybody trying to oppose them must be very careful not to sink to their level and use their tactics.

One repulsive practice of the alt-right is doxing, the releasing of private or sensitive information about a victim. When a victim’s address is published, they may receive death threats or even actual attempts on their lives. The alt-right has rather systematically done this to public figures such as Anita Sarkeesian, as well as otherwise private individuals. It is disappointing to see some anti-fascists going through videos and photos from the Charlottesville rally and asking on Twitter for the people there to be identified and publicly shamed. There are at least two problems with this. Firstly, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights is very clear on this:

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.

‘Everyone’ includes people who hold abhorrent views, and simply attending a march – even a neo-Nazi one – is not justification for releasing somebody’s home address, work address or contact details. Secondly, identifying people from grainy photos is tricky and leaves room for plenty of false positives. There will be innocent people who look like someone at the rally, and who live nearby, who will be falsely identified as a Nazi, and shamed.

The same goes for physical aggression (which can be distinguished from self-defence in response to an attack). Of course punching somebody is far less serious than running them over, but that doesn’t make it easier to justify.

To be clear, the above is not a defence of the alt-right’s freedom of speech. Regardless of legal disputes over whether freedom of speech covers hate speech, it is a different matter as to whether violence against them is legal, morally defensible, or pragmatic.

On the other side of the Internet, other people can become dehumanised, and it is unsurprising that the hateful views of the alt-right have brewed over many years on the anonymised image boards of 4chan. But we must remember that:

When we oppose the alt-right, we must do our best to keep on the moral high ground.

Otherwise, we create a moral equivalence and help to justify Donald Trump’s notion that ‘both sides‘ are to blame.

In other words, violent actions such as doxing and assault are ineffectual even on a pragmatic level, even if you don’t believe in nonviolence as a moral absolute. And, just as we expect Donald Trump to disavow his hateful supporters, we should call out our own allies who do use these tactics. Their actions are as important as their words and their beliefs.

In defence of anecdotal evidence

Anecdotal evidence is worthless, right? It comes about through uncontrolled conditions, and the people reporting it may report selectively (whether or not they intend to be biased). Thanks in part to the works of writers such as Richard Dawkins, we have learnt to dismiss anecdotes and personal testimonials, bringing us closer towards a world governed by Reason and statistics. And we can consign anything supported merely by anecdotes to fire. Hurrah!

For many things in the natural world, it is relatively straightforward (if expensive) to isolate the thing to be tested, conduct experiments or controlled trials, and then quantify the effect of that thing, with well-defined error bars. There are well-established principles and procedures for designing clinical trials, which is why we can resolutely label things like homeopathy, claims about the MMR vaccine, and everything Deepak Chopra says as bullshit, even if there are occasional success stories.

But – and perhaps Dawkins and co. haven’t realised this yet – humans are complicated, and social phenomena, which involve multiple humans, are very complicated. It is impossible to control the environment in which they arise. Also, individual experiences are unique, and it is difficult to give meaningful definitions or boundaries (see also this post), and to ensure that everybody uses the same definition. Related to this, people do not always accurately report their experiences: something that is perceived to be ‘shameful’ will be underreported even if it is actually quite common.

For these reasons, many social phenomena have not been studied quantitatively. But

Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.
 

If anything, it is evidence that you haven’t yet done a good enough job collecting evidence on the subject.

When nothing else is available, and when it is not possible to conduct a systematic, controlled and quantitative study, then anecdotal evidence is the best you can do, and it needs to be taken into account, provided it comes from a credible reporter, who has no vested interests. And you must hear that evidence, even if you do not give it much weight.

In more technical language, I am arguing that probabilities are subjective measures of a degree of belief, not objective, and that any evidence should update your posterior probability, even if not by very much.

What I’ve said so far has been relatively abstract, but a failure to understand this has truly harmful effects when we dismiss anecdotal evidence. When hundreds of people report that they have been victims of something, then we need to start taking their testimonials seriously.

The Everyday Sexism Project has collected reports from tens of thousands of women about the sexist abuses that they have suffered. These are idiosyncratic and can’t be categorised; they might have happened repeatedly over a long time, or be one-off events. These acts are often not visible: even the person doing or saying the sexist things might not realise that they are being hostile. An individual claim of sexism might be dismissed by suggesting a variety of mitigating circumstances, or even by assuming bad faith on the part of the reporter! But what is more likely: that misogyny exists in our society, or that thousands of women have conspired together to make up that myth? (You may find Occam’s razor useful.)

Everyday sexism is just one example of microaggression, which also happens in other contexts such as race and religion. Moreover the fear of being subject to a racist attack is just as relevant as the number of actual attacks. Fear has a chilling effect on society, and has a measurable effect on the economy, but by its very nature it is difficult to measure.

Other examples include people’s testimonials of an NHS (or other public service) that is unable to provide a good experience. When thousands of people across the country complain about this, then it is no longer an egotistic individual or a problematic local service; there is something nationwide happening.

In summary,


When thousands of anecdotes are given, then it is no longer "merely" anecdotal evidence.

As with the etymological fallacy, the failure to give anecdotal evidence the weight that it sometimes deserves is a dangerous fallacy, because it is easy to commit it, thinking that you are rational and your opponent is not. This arrogant attitude poisons a discussion.

British Independence Day

Some Brexiters have suggested that June 23rd should become celebrated as Britain’s Independence Day. Simon Richards, head of the so-called ‘Freedom Association’ and a prominent Brexit campaigner, justified this just now on Radio 4. Apparently, Britain needs a national day to bring its people together. The fact that Brits don’t have such a day apparently makes us jealous of Indians and the African nations who all have national days of independence!

The etymological fallacy and related crimes

One of the argument techniques that I found most frustrating is the etymological fallacy, the idea that the meaning of a word or a symbol is determined completely by its origin, with no regard to its current usage or the particular context of the conversation. It is related to another common fallacy, which is to give a word a non-standard definition and then not sticking to that definition.

Like most fallacies, it is employed by people on all sides of an issue (and I welcome any further examples that you can think of). Etymological fallacies are often committed by self-identifying ‘rational’ people, who otherwise delight in picking flaws in other people’s reasoning. These people tend to see the world in black-and-white terms, and perhaps think that their arguments are impervious to criticism because they take an axiomatic approach. Such an attitude is nothing more than a cousin of Biblical literalism.

(Aside: Think of Professor Dawkins. Even their use of the self-label ‘rational’ is an example of the fallacy in action. I might rant some more about so-called ‘rationalists’ in the future. In the meantime, here is a caricature.)

The etymological fallacy does not only helps one invalidly arrive at a conclusion. What makes it particularly frustrating is that it can also shut down conversation completely. It is not possible to have conversations about complicated issues when the terminology are restricted to narrow definitions.

On the other hand, claiming that one uses words and symbols only according to their literal meanings is particularly insidious, because it is used to appeal to racists, without explicitly admitting that one is a racist. As such, it is a form of dog-whistling.

Continue reading The etymological fallacy and related crimes

Why I reject the term ‘virtue signalling’

The Manchester incident last night (reported on in detail here) was tragic, the attacker(s) deserve condemnation, and all those who sought to help (emergency services, but also hotels, taxi drivers and such) deserve praise for their humanity and love. That much should be clear. The Queen’s response was dignified and speaks for many of us.

In the wake of such a horrible incident, it would only be human to express solidarity for the victims. Indeed, many public figures with prominent voices have done so. Not all of them were equally well-received: Jeremy Corbyn’s tweet has received replies that accuse him of ‘[making] political capital out of people’s death under the guise of praising emergency services’. (See also Another Angry Voice‘s post on this.) The fact that his tweet is actually apolitical, and not fundamentally different in content from (albeit much shorter than) Theresa May’s statement is not important. (His later and longer statement is likewise uncontroversial in content, yet received similarly poorly.)

There is a popular attitude that ‘liberals and the left like to virtue-signal‘. This is applied at people who stand up for groups that they themselves do not belong to, such as male feminists, or people who don’t support black people being disproportionately wrongfully arrested and shot by police. Such people are only there to get attention, and don’t really care about the cause.

The snarl term ‘virtue signalling’ hasn’t been prominently applied to Jeremy Corbyn yet today, but that’s the implication. Why should one get so much flak for saying basically the same thing as Theresa May and the Queen? Few think that the Queen’s statement was a cynical move to exploit this incident in order to increase public support for the monarchy.

Why does ‘virtual signalling’ only apply to some causes, and not others? When Theresa May took the time out of her very busy schedule to join the Church of England in condemning the National Trust’s Easter egg hunt for not referencing Christianity, why was that not dismissed as merely ‘virtue signalling’, but given so much coverage?

Jumping to conclusions

As of the time of writing, very little is known about the attacker(s). This does not stop people from going ahead and assuming that they were Islamic terrorists, for example, in the Republican House Speaker Paul Ryan’s statement. ISIS has claimed responsibility, although their involvement has not been confirmed by any authorities. To get to the conclusion that ISIS is responsible, given the information currently available, you would have to say that ISIS is your most reliable source of information, more so than the police.

Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t

Tim Farron, current leader of the Liberal Democrats, once said that he thought that homosexuality was a sin. This led to a lot of anger in some circles, and the fear that the Liberal Democrats would not fight sufficiently strongly for (or could even oppose) LGBT+ rights.

Farron has more recently clarified his position by saying that his ‘views on personal morality [didn’t] matter’ and that this was not party policy. The right-wing blogger Guido Fawkes has spun this as: ‘Tim Farron has his beliefs and he seems willing to compromise them for political gain.’

Nobody seems to think that the vegetarian Jeremy Corbyn would ban meat-eating if he got into power, or that it he’d be compromising his moral stance by not banning meat-eating. Why should LGBT+ issues be any different?

Two quotes of Confucius

The classical Chinese philosopher Confucius and his disciples set out a vision of a society in which people aspired to become junzi. The term translates literally as ‘noble’s son’, more figuratively as ‘superior man’ (cf. Nietzsche’s Übermensch), and embodies ‘gentlemanly’ virtues: honesty, sincerity, good manners, a love of learning, selflessness, and, most importantly, humanity, putting the lives of human beings before pursuits for wealth or pleasure. In such a society, the people would value principled leaders, whose policies would benefit all and whose words would be just.

Society has changed massively since Confucius’ time, much for the better: it is difficult to justify returning to such a patriarchic, feudal and superstitious time. However, the ethical principles of his school are still hugely relevant, and leaders, as well as we the people who elect them, would do well to read the Analects, even if we do not agree with everything in there. In light of the upcoming general election, I would like to draw attention to two quotes in particular.

The Master [Confucius] said, “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue.”

Someone said, “Yong [a disciple] is truly virtuous, but he is not ready with his tongue.” The Master said, “What is the good of being ready with the tongue? They who encounter men with smartness of speech for the most part procure themselves hatred. I know not whether he be truly virtuous, but why should he show readiness of the tongue?”

As a bonus, here is an account from the Book of Mencius of Confucius’ disciple Mencius with a king of a city-state:

‘Your dogs and swine eat the food of men, and you do not make any restrictive arrangements. There are people dying from famine on the roads, and you do not issue the stores of your granaries for them. When people die, you say, “It is not owing to me; it is owing to the year.” In what does this differ from stabbing a man and killing him, and then saying – “It was not I; it was the weapon?” Let your Majesty cease to lay the blame on the year, and instantly from all the nation the people will come to you.’

King Hui of Liang said, ‘I wish quietly to receive your instructions.’

Mencius replied, ‘Is there any difference between killing a man with a stick and with a sword?’

The king said, ‘There is no difference!’

‘Is there any difference between doing it with a sword and with the style of government?’

‘There is no difference,’ was the reply.

Mencius then said, ‘In your kitchen there is fat meat; in your stables there are fat horses. But your people have the look of hunger, and on the wilds there are those who have died of famine. This is leading on beasts to devour men. Beasts devour one another, and men hate them for doing so. When a prince, being the parent of his people, administers his government so as to be chargeable with leading on beasts to devour men, where is his parental relation to the people? Zhong Ni said, ‘Was he not without posterity who first made wooden images to bury with the dead? So he said, because that man made the semblances of men, and used them for that purpose – what shall be thought of him who causes his people to die of hunger?’

Trident as the Ultimate Blasphemy

Trident has once again surfaced as a political issue. Enough has been said to criticise it on strategic, military, financial, ethical and diplomatic grounds that I find it unbelievable that the majority of people still that it’s a useful system. Nonetheless, I’d like to propose the following argument:

Whether as a first strike or a retaliatory strike, any use of weapons of such destructive power as Trident would set humanity back hundreds of years by destroying so much (social as well as physical) infrastructure. If (like me) you believe that humanity collectively has an eventual purpose to work towards, then such destruction should be extremely unpalatable. If moreover (unlike me) you believe that this purpose is set by Heaven, then by committing this damage, you would be intentionally and directly going against Heaven’s purpose.

Or alternatively: Presumably your use of Trident would have some aim in mind, however unsavoury or misguided; Clausewitz defines: ‘War is merely the continuation of policy by other means.’ This would be far worse, because you would essentially be saying ‘Humanity doesn’t need to exist if I can’t get what I want.’ Or, more blasphemously: ‘Heaven’s motives are my motives.’

Theresa May, David Cameron, Tony Blair and George W. Bush all profess to be Christians, and are very public about it; they often allude to it in their speeches. But, to properly reconcile a belief in a God-given cause for humanity with a willingness to destroy it–even as a deterrent–requires a Deus Vult attitude, and it would be called religious extremism if it were practised by leaders of any other country.

Continue reading Trident as the Ultimate Blasphemy