Sautéed Onions, and a pinch of Sweet Technology

I've been doing a bit of cooking recently, and having a great time at it. Last night I tried a Mac'n'Cheese recipe, using Mozzarella and aged Cheddar melted in a Béchamel sauce, followed by tonight's meal of 'Lemony Quinoa and Asparagus with Shrimp Scampi.' Both were (fortunately) well received, and they tasted as good to me as it was enjoyable to make them.

On the technology side, during the research for my current project, I've been learning about the facilities offered by the XMPP protocol and its various server implementations. It offers some fascinating - and certainly untapped - possibilities for product development. What has intrigued me about it is that if you have any kind of need for remote control and response from various services, you can implement the service as a so-called 'component bot' and control it using a client application, which both exist as XMPP entities.

By doing this, and using server implementations that support clustering and appropriate implementations of the 'Jabber Component Protocol' (XEP-0114) and perhaps 'Component Connections,' then you get load balancing for that service almost automatically. On (likely) tested implementations, too. If you assume your service will need to scale - and it seems reckless to ignore the possibility - this is invaluable.

In the end, I've been left with less work to do, and at least two more meals in leftovers.

Bliss.

Lifetime's Authority Equals Death and Taxes

Life's Certainty

Since society is not self-supporting, it must be decided how best to maintain it. An obvious method is through taxes. The American political philosopher Robert Nozick had a compelling view against taxation. Taxes embody the right of society to take some of your earnings, the fruits of your labour. Nozick likened this to forced labour; tax – to him – is tantamount to slavery.

The alternative must be the willing contributions of the members of the society. These must be uncoerced: violators must not be punished, even by the most subtle kinds of social ostracism, or else it permits the same opposition as taxes.


In other words, society – whether grounded by a 'government' or other means – must be maintained by either slavery or altruism.

I think the comparison with slavery itself is a bit forced, as its 'victims' still enjoy some of its benefits; perhaps policing, or subsidised health care. But whether the members of a society can contribute to its upkeep by more altruistic or more forced behaviours, there will always be some individuals who somehow avoid doing so.

Ignoring the ethical dilemma of taxation with it's difficulty of whether people contribute – it is useful to consider how those that do, do so. In considering this, we confront the difficult notion of 'fairness,' and in discussing fairness, we meet the issue of scarcity.

The need to be 'fair' only arises with finite resources. These resources need not be goods and services produced and supplied by people, but also natural resources such as an individual's lifespan (which is partially determined by genetic factors), and the distribution of arable land suitable for farming, or the presence of species that may be domesticated.

Since fairness is ultimately a problem of availability, it must be solved by setting some standards for sharing or dividing resources amongst individuals. In areas where we have little control over how resources are divided - such as an individual's lifespan - it is not meaningful to talk of fairness. Whether life is fair or not is hardly a practical question.

It is remarkable that 'equal' sharing of resources is not always considered the 'right' way to divide them. We can see this in the famous principle of "the greatest good to the greatest number," often known by the name 'Utilitarianism.' This phrasing admits that the 'greatest' good may not be realised by everyone getting the same, but possibly also by providing things where they may be utilised most effectively.

Few would argue that there is merit in using resources effectively; the conflict arises in deciding how to do so.


I believe this classic phrasing of the principle of Utilitarianism provides an unstable platform on which to ground a society.

Firstly, it ignores the make-up of this 'greatest number' that it favours. Does it include the poorest members of society? Following it to the letter would permit a majority to exploit a minority for the majority's 'greatest good.'

It would be preferable to maximise the good available to those most in need, while allowing those above them whatever surplus they can afford. Adam Smith highlighted how important the right to this surplus is as an incentive to further production.

The other issue with it's phrasing is that it encourages broad distribution of wealth, but does not distinguish between a uniform or a skewed distribution. Following the findings of Pareto and many others, it is necessary to acknowledge that wealth becomes skewed by very natural processes, and to decide whether and how this should be redistributed.

The need for effective use should govern redistribution efforts, and as previously mentioned, this does not necessarily come through equal wealth between all members of a society.

As has been remarked by many others, we have often judged effectiveness by the metric of 'Gross Domestic Product,' or GDP. As remarked by a former U.S. president, this measures everything "except that which makes life worth living." Often these same people suggest GNH – Gross National Happiness – as a substitute.

While certainly not as easy to measure, it is a preferable bearing for guiding ways to improve the lives of members of society. I think it may also guide tax policy.

To have a product's contribution to GNH scale its sales tax would provide an indirect incentive to both producers and consumers. Any good or service which invariably degrades happiness has a corresponding increase in sales tax, while one which improves well-being and happiness receives lower taxes. The degree to which they affect happiness determines the amount to increase or decrease taxes.

A complimentary policy, this time directed at producers, would be to have what I'll term a 'progressive savings tax.' On savings below a decided threshold, there would be no taxes, but anything beyond it would be taxed at increasing rates. Since it is only a percentage claim, there is still Smith's incentive to further production, and coupled with the other policy it would mean the further incentive to contribute more to happiness-boosting goods and services (and charity, since this can be tax-free), lest that money be 'lost' to taxes. When people face loss, they are prone to take risks, and these risks may as well be directed toward the public good.

Death's Authority

As governments may try to shape our society, so authors may try to shape our minds. There has been one classic difference between the two groups: while authors have been occupied with attaining immortality through their creations, politicians have merely sought survival. Unfortunately, those who shape society exert greater influence on history than even the best painters, poets, or philosophers.

It is regrettable that the authors of history are therefore so present-minded. With the reactive nature of their policy decisions, we are led through story arcs with plot twists reminiscent of a best selling novel, rather than the timeless verse of Hamlet. Shakespeare could appeal to our hearts, politicians only understand our fight-or-flight response.

From our foray into taxes, I've already mentioned that those faced with loss are more inclined to take risks. Great for the fortunate entrepreneur; intolerable with so much more at stake.

Admittedly, in an arena where experiments would be so useful, it is so difficult to make them. While areas like system dynamics offer interesting prospects, their simulations are only as useful as the combinations of variables that they model, and – the hard part – model correctly.

Authors possess greater freedom; they face challenges, certainly, but ones that are far more tractable. Their works are usually solo efforts, but they do – unless world governments develop – have the potential to reach broader audiences.

A failed production is far more forgiving to its audience than poor social policy, which encourages authors to experiment.

The chief purpose of any authored work is to be understood, and this rests on more than their words, or strokes on a canvas, of it's creator(s). Modern literary criticism, or various forms of artistic appreciation, acknowledge that the meaning embodied by a work is a product of the context in which both its author and its audience is embedded.

An author's 'intention,' if it ever exists, becomes muddied by their own life- – and particularly, work- – history, and the individual life histories of their audience.

Pondering this raises a question: if the result is to permit a multiplicity of interpretations, does that mean that author must be willing to allow ambiguity in their intention to convey ideas, or just to have the tolerance that there will be diversity of outlooks?

The notions of ambiguity and clarity are easily confused. While a lack of clarity precludes understanding of even a single idea, ambiguity permits multiple understandings, even simultaneously by the same individual.

For an author to gain immortality in their works, it must either contain a single, timeless idea that all future generations can appreciate, or allow many interpretations; some of which may not persist, or even exist at the time of their creation.

Realising the warping effects that both time and imagination can have on meaning, authors should value ambiguity, but never shun clarity.

One measure of an author's talent should be how well they attain ambiguity without sacrificing clarity. As remarked by Antoine de Saint-Exupery,

You know you've attained perfection in design, not when you have nothing more to add, but when you have nothing left to take away.

Although elaboration may solidify a single meaning, it may also stifle the imagination, or obscure a work's meaning to those of different backgrounds or times. Good authors are conscious of the effects their words may have.

As soon as pen is put to paper, brush to canvas, or – more often these days – bytes to a hard disk, the creator's thought-process is frozen in place. Personal connections between an author and their audience may assist understanding, but these are naturally limited to that author's life-span and those the author can reach during that time.

A few means for clarifying intent survive an author's death. The thought processes responsible for their works can be difficult to resolve through a single work alone, but may be adumbrated by their life-history of creations.

Consistencies between works can reveal meanings not contained in the individual works themselves, but our efforts at understanding may be frustrated by realising that an author's outlook is not static throughout their lifetime but may evolve in the course of their life experiences. The chronology of their works may themselves highlight these life experiences, which may also assist in interpreting them.

One should not only look at prior, but also subsequent works. While the past is the key to the future, with an incomplete history an understanding of an author's future can help us understand hidden details of their past.

Although it is meaningful to judge the quality of an individual work, independent of others, it makes little sense to value an author's contribution to culture by one, even if it is a magnum opus or recognised as seminal. Complete understanding requires complete information, and although that's never attainable, the whole can still be more than the sum of the parts, even when they're incomplete.

As remarked by Ferdinand de Saussure on the arbitrary nature of words,

The important thing in the word is not the sound alone but the phonic differences that make it possible to distinguish this word from all others

There is no meaning inherent in words; how else could there be different languages, for example. It is their distinctiveness from other words. Likewise, ambiguity embodies meaning, for figure cannot exist without ground, and the gift of imagination and time is that this ground is always shifting beneath us.

In everything ... uniformity is undesirable. Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives one the feeling that there is room for growth.
    – Japanese Essays in Idleness

Maintaining One's Berings in Icy Waters

There's a very famous saying,

Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness.

That, far from enlightening, is even less memorable. But the second part will probably strike a chord:

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
— George Santayana

As separated as these sentences may be in your memory, they are intimately linked. The first reaches to our past, the second looks to our future.

They remind us that one does not exist without the other.

Have you ever been frustrated when someone talks about something very familiar to you and thought "Well, I've heard all this before."

Although it's a thought that comes – quite naturally – more and more often with experience, this quote reminds us that frustration is the wrong response.

There are a few schools of thought about what forces shape history. It's useful here to look back to some ideas from the 18th and 19th centuries. There was a divide between a strain known as uniformitarianism and the other known as catastrophism.

The first long word underlines how gradual change can, over time, have remarkable effect. The second about how sudden, short-lived 'catastrophes' can change the world.

Looking back now, it seems ridiculous to think that such sensible, benign ideas could have drawn such heady debate. Actually, even now, people are still pondering the divide, albeit in slightly different guise.

Both ideas are important, and for much the same reason, and the quote beginning this conversation leads us to it.

Memory.

Memories reside within our tiny heads, and on the larger scale of the world as a whole. We combine old ideas to create new ones, organisms evolve and – like our ideas – may go on to prosper or to perish.

Just as a tsunami can strike, volcanoes can erupt, earthquakes can shake and fissure, and all of them rapidly devastate environments and populations, people can join together to form movements, exhibit immense wisdom, and quickly go on to achieve things previously unimagined. The complexity of our technologies, the dense structure of our societies, and the speed that they allow us to spread information, all at the same time, bless us with delightful innovations, and (usually) curse us through stock market crashes that take everyone by surprise.

Some memories are more elusive than others; natural disasters can form based on processes we don't fully understand, and the ideas embodied in our technologies and carried by individuals can combine in ways difficult to see in advance.

To look to the future with certainty is to deceive ones-self, and uncertainty forbids intent. Although change has beginning and end, without clarity it can have no direction.

...memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously.
— Isabelle Allende

While nature's memories persist for eternity in stone, it is human nature to forget.

What many in the West like to call 'progress' owes much to our increasing capacity to remember. Much has been ascribed to Gutenberg's development of movable type and the printing press, and more recently similar sentiments surround web video. Both provide accessible and, more importantly, durable ways to record ideas for later readers or viewers.

It's worth noticing that while we first had oral and graphic culture, followed by literacy, we have come full circle with print – a written medium – followed by video, a very graphic and oral medium.

But there is something much more fundamental grounding these two pillars of 'progress' – language. It is the common ground for all the ways we communicate ideas.

Just as land bridges have historically allowed the migration of peoples to now divided areas of the globe, language bridges our minds, and new technologies allow this exchange at ever greater speeds and distances.

The exchange of ideas is one of our most valuable assets, not only to allow them to combine together in innovative ways, but also to make them more durable. New minds bring new, more diverse backgrounds. Diversity breeds fresh ideas and fidelity of ideas. Ideas are only of value when they are remembered, and memories fade. Although time may displace old ideas, with the new taking center stage, it need not replace them. When reminded of past thoughts, reminiscence trumps recoil; bridges crossed, not burned.

"Why didn't I think of that?" is a too-common rejoinder to innovation for very good reason.

All the non-fiction material I have read, viewed, or heard over (at least) the past three years has been tightly intertwined, and not by any intent of mine. The works may be separated in time, but their ideas are always acutely connected. Each creation relating – in its own individual, unique ways – the thorough web connecting all that is. The more diversity I seek out, the more its strands draw me back.

The only relief I've found is fiction. It's not lack of connections, for its narrative binds more tightly than any other. Non-fiction has direction, it seeks our understanding and so must be reductive. The turbulent territory of fiction appeals to our inner explorers. It thrives on complexity. We don't understand, we must discover, we must imagine. Ignorance is bliss, for it demands that we imagine.

Everything is connected. You could wonder, with all this material, why we haven't got the message.

Maybe it's just important, and instead we should remember it.