Westward, Look, the Land is Bright
[posted by Callimachus]
This post is a blessing, in a time when the nation's confidence in itself is at an all-time low. It involves the "Prisoner's Dilemma" logic problem, the "Silver Rule" (he calls it "tit for tat"), crime in London, and a resurrection of the undeservedly forgotten Albert Jay Nock. And it will inspire you to keep leaning toward the light.
No small chunk cut from it can do it justice, which is true of all the truly "written" blog posts (most blog posts are just typed conversation). Do read it.
Among the memories it brought back to me was the time I was staying in a hostel in London in the late '80s and in broad daylight a youth walked into the place and packed everyone's overnight bags into my suitcase and walked out and disappeared. Like the Canadians and Australians and ex-pats who were in the room with me, I was livid. But I, the American tourist, was the one who called the police. Big mistake. The young Bobby showed up and patiently listened to my story, didn't write anything down, and sympathized, but essentially said there was nothing they could do. Then he spent half an hour flirting with the pretty brunette who ran the place.
When you realize those are the conditions of the world you live in, you change your behavior and your interactions. You arrive at a different answer to the Prisoner's Dilemma.
This post is a blessing, in a time when the nation's confidence in itself is at an all-time low. It involves the "Prisoner's Dilemma" logic problem, the "Silver Rule" (he calls it "tit for tat"), crime in London, and a resurrection of the undeservedly forgotten Albert Jay Nock. And it will inspire you to keep leaning toward the light.
No small chunk cut from it can do it justice, which is true of all the truly "written" blog posts (most blog posts are just typed conversation). Do read it.
Among the memories it brought back to me was the time I was staying in a hostel in London in the late '80s and in broad daylight a youth walked into the place and packed everyone's overnight bags into my suitcase and walked out and disappeared. Like the Canadians and Australians and ex-pats who were in the room with me, I was livid. But I, the American tourist, was the one who called the police. Big mistake. The young Bobby showed up and patiently listened to my story, didn't write anything down, and sympathized, but essentially said there was nothing they could do. Then he spent half an hour flirting with the pretty brunette who ran the place.
When you realize those are the conditions of the world you live in, you change your behavior and your interactions. You arrive at a different answer to the Prisoner's Dilemma.
