Putin’s actions make no sense. That is his strength

 Tim Harford in The FT

Is Vladimir Putin mad? Russia’s president has launched a costly and unprovoked war, shocked his own citizens, galvanised Nato, triggered damaging but predictable economic reprisals and threatened a nuclear war that could end civilisation. One has to doubt his grasp on reason. 

Doubt is part of the point. In The Strategy of Conflict, written in 1960, the economist Thomas Schelling noted: “It is not a universal advantage in situations of conflict to be inalienably and manifestly rational in decisions and motivation.” 

A madman — or a toddler — can get away with certain actions because he cannot be deterred by threats or because his own threats seem more plausible. But Schelling’s point is more subtle than that: you don’t need to be mad to secure these advantages. You just need to persuade your adversaries that you might be. 

The idea is vividly illustrated in The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett’s 1930 novel and John Huston’s 1941 film. Our hero, Sam Spade, knows the whereabouts of the falcon, a priceless artefact. When the villainous Kasper Gutman tries to intimidate him into revealing the secret, Spade is not intimidated. If Gutman kills him then the precious falcon will be lost forever. 

“If I know you can’t afford to kill me, how are you gonna scare me into giving it to you?” Spade challenges Gutman. 

“That’s an attitude, sir, that calls for the most delicate judgement on both sides,” Gutman says. “Because, as you know, sir, in the heat of action men are likely to forget where their best interests lie and let their emotions carry them away.” 

Spade doesn’t seem too worried by this, perhaps because Gutman appears calm. Gutman might have had more success if he seemed unhinged. Then again, Gutman’s henchmen are pointing pistols at Spade and twitching with rage, so even if Gutman keeps his cool, the threat that someone might get carried away seems plausible. 

Schelling was a wonderful writer and thinker, but it gives me little pleasure to be dusting off his books. When I first encountered his ideas on nuclear deterrence, it was the mid-1990s. The cold war was over, the threat of a nuclear exchange seemed largely past and Schelling’s ideas could be enjoyed in much the same way as Hammett’s: as witty, surprising and reassuringly unreal. When Schelling shared the Nobel memorial prize in economics in 2005, it was with a sense that his clear-eyed ideas about nuclear deterrence had helped human civilisation dodge a bullet. 

That nuclear bullet is now back in the gun and Putin is waving it around unnervingly. He wouldn’t . . . would he? I don’t know, which is just the way Putin likes it. 

There was always something surreal about maintaining nuclear weapons as a deterrent. Surely such weapons could never be used, because the consequences were too horrible? And if the weapons could never be used, what sort of deterrent did they provide? 

Yet the deterrent is real enough because even a small risk of escalation is a risk worth taking seriously. That risk can come from a number of sources. There’s malfunctioning equipment: in September 1983, Soviet officer Stanislav Petrov’s early warning radar told him that the US had just launched ballistic missiles at the Soviet Union. He realised that was unlikely and ignored the warning. Petrov’s heroic inaction was made all the more remarkable because it came at a time of escalated tensions between the superpowers. 

Another risk is that a senior decision maker is insane, rather than merely feigning insanity. 

Then there is the risk of things getting out of control somewhere down the chain of command. During the Cuban missile crisis in 1962, the US decided to stop and search ships sailing to Cuba — a potential flashpoint if the result was the sinking of a Soviet ship. President Kennedy and defence secretary Robert McNamara asked the US Navy to soften this “quarantine” in a couple of ways. 

In fact, as the classic book Thinking Strategically explains, the US Navy told McNamara to mind his own business, and the blockade was riskier than Kennedy had intended. Unthinkable threats become thinkable in such circumstances. 

Putin holds a weak hand, except for the one card that no rational person would ever choose to play. But the essence of brinkmanship is to introduce a risk that nobody can entirely control. If the risk becomes intolerable, you may win concessions. I am 99 per cent sure that Putin is bluffing, but a 1 per cent chance of the end of the world is and should be more than enough to worry about. 

Faced with Gutman’s warning that someone may get carried away, Spade coolly responds, “then the trick from my angle is to make my play strong enough to tie you up, but not make you mad enough to bump me off against your better judgement”. That is the trick the western world is now attempting to perform. By Putin’s design, it is not going to be easy.

Emotions trigger the imagination: How to dispute irrational beliefs without breaking rapport

 

Facts v feelings: how to stop our emotions misleading us

The pandemic has shown how a lack of solid statistics can be dangerous. But even with the firmest of evidence, we often end up ignoring the facts we don’t like. By Tim Harford in The Guardian
 

By the spring of 2020, the high stakes involved in rigorous, timely and honest statistics had suddenly become all too clear. A new coronavirus was sweeping the world. Politicians had to make their most consequential decisions in decades, and fast. Many of those decisions depended on data detective work that epidemiologists, medical statisticians and economists were scrambling to conduct. Tens of millions of lives were potentially at risk. So were billions of people’s livelihoods.

In early April, countries around the world were a couple of weeks into lockdown, global deaths passed 60,000, and it was far from clear how the story would unfold. Perhaps the deepest economic depression since the 1930s was on its way, on the back of a mushrooming death toll. Perhaps, thanks to human ingenuity or good fortune, such apocalyptic fears would fade from memory. Many scenarios seemed plausible. And that’s the problem.

An epidemiologist, John Ioannidis, wrote in mid-March that Covid-19 “might be a once-in-a-century evidence fiasco”. The data detectives are doing their best – but they’re having to work with data that’s patchy, inconsistent and woefully inadequate for making life-and-death decisions with the confidence we would like.

Details of this fiasco will, no doubt, be studied for years to come. But some things already seem clear. At the beginning of the crisis, politics seem to have impeded the free flow of honest statistics. Although the claim is contested, Taiwan complained that in late December 2019 it had given important clues about human-to-human transmission to the World Health Organization – but as late as mid-January, the WHO was reassuringly tweeting that China had found no evidence of human-to-human transmission. (Taiwan is not a member of the WHO, because China claims sovereignty over the territory and demands that it should not be treated as an independent state. It’s possible that this geopolitical obstacle led to the alleged delay.)

Did this matter? Almost certainly; with cases doubling every two or three days, we will never know what might have been different with an extra couple of weeks of warning. It’s clear that many leaders took a while to appreciate the potential gravity of the threat. President Trump, for instance, announced in late February: “It’s going to disappear. One day it’s like a miracle, it will disappear.” Four weeks later, with 1,300 Americans dead and more confirmed cases in the US than any other country, Trump was still talking hopefully about getting everybody to church at Easter.

As I write, debates are raging. Can rapid testing, isolation and contact tracing contain outbreaks indefinitely, or merely delay their spread? Should we worry more about small indoor gatherings or large outdoor ones? Does closing schools help to prevent the spread of the virus, or do more harm as children go to stay with vulnerable grandparents? How much does wearing masks help? These and many other questions can be answered only by good data about who has been infected, and when.

But in the early months of the pandemic, a vast number of infections were not being registered in official statistics, owing to a lack of tests. And the tests that were being conducted were giving a skewed picture, being focused on medical staff, critically ill patients, and – let’s face it – rich, famous people. It took several months to build a picture of how many mild or asymptomatic cases there are, and hence how deadly the virus really is. As the death toll rose exponentially in March, doubling every two days in the UK, there was no time to wait and see. Leaders put economies into an induced coma – more than 3 million Americans filed jobless claims in a single week in late March, five times the previous record. The following week was even worse: more than 6.5m claims were filed. Were the potential health consequences really catastrophic enough to justify sweeping away so many people’s incomes? It seemed so – but epidemiologists could only make their best guesses with very limited information.

It’s hard to imagine a more extraordinary illustration of how much we usually take accurate, systematically gathered numbers for granted. The statistics for a huge range of important issues that predate the coronavirus have been painstakingly assembled over the years by diligent statisticians, and often made available to download, free of charge, anywhere in the world. Yet we are spoiled by such luxury, casually dismissing “lies, damned lies and statistics”. The case of Covid-19 reminds us how desperate the situation can become when the statistics simply aren’t there.

When it comes to interpreting the world around us, we need to realise that our feelings can trump our expertise. This explains why we buy things we don’t need, fall for the wrong kind of romantic partner, or vote for politicians who betray our trust. In particular, it explains why we so often buy into statistical claims that even a moment’s thought would tell us cannot be true. Sometimes, we want to be fooled.

Psychologist Ziva Kunda found this effect in the lab, when she showed experimental subjects an article laying out the evidence that coffee or other sources of caffeine could increase the risk to women of developing breast cysts. Most people found the article pretty convincing. Women who drank a lot of coffee did not.

We often find ways to dismiss evidence that we don’t like. And the opposite is true, too: when evidence seems to support our preconceptions, we are less likely to look too closely for flaws. It is not easy to master our emotions while assessing information that matters to us, not least because our emotions can lead us astray in different directions.

We don’t need to become emotionless processors of numerical information – just noticing our emotions and taking them into account may often be enough to improve our judgment. Rather than requiring superhuman control of our emotions, we need simply to develop good habits. Ask yourself: how does this information make me feel? Do I feel vindicated or smug? Anxious, angry or afraid? Am I in denial, scrambling to find a reason to dismiss the claim?

In the early days of the coronavirus epidemic, helpful-seeming misinformation spread even faster than the virus itself. One viral post – circulating on Facebook and email newsgroups – all-too-confidently explained how to distinguish between Covid-19 and a cold, reassured people that the virus was destroyed by warm weather, and incorrectly advised that iced water was to be avoided, while warm water kills any virus. The post, sometimes attributed to “my friend’s uncle”, sometimes to “Stanford hospital board” or some blameless and uninvolved paediatrician, was occasionally accurate but generally speculative and misleading. But still people – normally sensible people – shared it again and again and again. Why? Because they wanted to help others. They felt confused, they saw apparently useful advice, and they felt impelled to share. That impulse was only human, and it was well-meaning – but it was not wise.

Protestors in Edinburgh demonstrating against Covid-19 prevention measures. Photograph: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty Images

Before I repeat any statistical claim, I first try to take note of how it makes me feel. It’s not a foolproof method against tricking myself, but it’s a habit that does little harm, and is sometimes a great deal of help. Our emotions are powerful. We can’t make them vanish, and nor should we want to. But we can, and should, try to notice when they are clouding our judgment.

In 1997, the economists Linda Babcock and George Loewenstein ran an experiment in which participants were given evidence from a real court case about a motorbike accident. They were then randomly assigned to play the role of plaintiff’s attorney (arguing that the injured motorcyclist should receive $100,000 in damages) or defence attorney (arguing that the case should be dismissed or the damages should be low).

The experimental subjects were given a financial incentive to argue their side of the case persuasively, and to reach an advantageous settlement with the other side. They were also given a separate financial incentive to accurately guess what the damages the judge in the real case had actually awarded. Their predictions should have been unrelated to their role-playing, but their judgment was strongly influenced by what they hoped would be true.

Psychologists call this “motivated reasoning”. Motivated reasoning is thinking through a topic with the aim, conscious or unconscious, of reaching a particular kind of conclusion. In a football game, we see the fouls committed by the other team but overlook the sins of our own side. We are more likely to notice what we want to notice. Experts are not immune to motivated reasoning. Under some circumstances their expertise can even become a disadvantage. The French satirist Molière once wrote: “A learned fool is more foolish than an ignorant one.” Benjamin Franklin commented: “So convenient a thing is it to be a reasonable creature, since it enables us to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to.”

Modern social science agrees with Molière and Franklin: people with deeper expertise are better equipped to spot deception, but if they fall into the trap of motivated reasoning, they are able to muster more reasons to believe whatever they really wish to believe.

One recent review of the evidence concluded that this tendency to evaluate evidence and test arguments in a way that is biased towards our own preconceptions is not only common, but just as common among intelligent people. Being smart or educated is no defence. In some circumstances, it may even be a weakness.

One illustration of this is a study published in 2006 by two political scientists, Charles Taber and Milton Lodge. They wanted to examine the way Americans reasoned about controversial political issues. The two they chose were gun control and affirmative action.

Taber and Lodge asked their experimental participants to read a number of arguments on either side, and to evaluate the strength and weakness of each argument. One might hope that being asked to review these pros and cons might give people more of a shared appreciation of opposing viewpoints; instead, the new information pulled people further apart.

This was because people mined the information they were given for ways to support their existing beliefs. When invited to search for more information, people would seek out data that backed their preconceived ideas. When invited to assess the strength of an opposing argument, they would spend considerable time thinking up ways to shoot it down.

This isn’t the only study to reach this sort of conclusion, but what’s particularly intriguing about Taber and Lodge’s experiment is that expertise made matters worse. More sophisticated participants in the experiment found more material to back up their preconceptions. More surprisingly, they found less material that contradicted them – as though they were using their expertise actively to avoid uncomfortable information. They produced more arguments in favour of their own views, and picked up more flaws in the other side’s arguments. They were vastly better equipped to reach the conclusion they had wanted to reach all along.

Of all the emotional responses we might have, the most politically relevant are motivated by partisanship. People with a strong political affiliation want to be on the right side of things. We see a claim, and our response is immediately shaped by whether we believe “that’s what people like me think”.

Consider this claim about climate change: “Human activity is causing the Earth’s climate to warm up, posing serious risks to our way of life.” Many of us have an emotional reaction to a claim like that; it’s not like a claim about the distance to Mars. Believing it or denying it is part of our identity; it says something about who we are, who our friends are, and the sort of world we want to live in. If I put a claim about climate change in a news headline, or in a graph designed to be shared on social media, it will attract attention and engagement not because it is true or false, but because of the way people feel about it.

If you doubt this, ponder the findings of a Gallup poll conducted in 2015. It found a huge gap between how much Democrats and Republicans in the US worried about climate change. What rational reason could there be for that?

Scientific evidence is scientific evidence. Our beliefs around climate change shouldn’t skew left and right. But they do. This gap became wider the more education people had. Among those with no college education, 45% of Democrats and 23% of Republicans worried “a great deal” about climate change. Yet among those with a college education, the figures were 50% of Democrats and 8% of Republicans. A similar pattern holds if you measure scientific literacy: more scientifically literate Republicans and Democrats are further apart than those who know very little about science.

If emotion didn’t come into it, surely more education and more information would help people to come to an agreement about what the truth is – or at least, the current best theory? But giving people more information seems actively to polarise them on the question of climate change. This fact alone tells us how important our emotions are. People are straining to reach the conclusion that fits with their other beliefs and values – and the more they know, the more ammunition they have to reach the conclusion they hope to reach.

Anti-carbon tax protesters in Australia in 2011. Photograph: Torsten Blackwood/AFP/Getty Images

In the case of climate change, there is an objective truth, even if we are unable to discern it with perfect certainty. But as you are one individual among nearly 8 billion on the planet, the environmental consequences of what you happen to think are irrelevant. With a handful of exceptions – say, if you’re the president of China – climate change is going to take its course regardless of what you say or do. From a self-centred point of view, the practical cost of being wrong is close to zero. The social consequences of your beliefs, however, are real and immediate.

Imagine that you’re a barley farmer in Montana, and hot, dry summers are ruining your crop with increasing frequency. Climate change matters to you. And yet rural Montana is a conservative place, and the words “climate change” are politically charged. Anyway, what can you personally do about it?

Here’s how one farmer, Erik Somerfeld, threads that needle, as described by the journalist Ari LeVaux: “In the field, looking at his withering crop, Somerfeld was unequivocal about the cause of his damaged crop – ‘climate change’. But back at the bar, with his friends, his language changed. He dropped those taboo words in favour of ‘erratic weather’ and ‘drier, hotter summers’ – a not-uncommon conversational tactic in farm country these days.”

If Somerfeld lived in Portland, Oregon, or Brighton, East Sussex, he wouldn’t need to be so circumspect at his local tavern – he’d be likely to have friends who took climate change very seriously indeed. But then those friends would quickly ostracise someone else in the social group who went around loudly claiming that climate change is a Chinese hoax.

So perhaps it is not so surprising after all to find educated Americans poles apart on the topic of climate change. Hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution have wired us to care deeply about fitting in with those around us. This helps to explain the findings of Taber and Lodge that better-informed people are actually more at risk of motivated reasoning on politically partisan topics: the more persuasively we can make the case for what our friends already believe, the more our friends will respect us.

It’s far easier to lead ourselves astray when the practical consequences of being wrong are small or non-existent, while the social consequences of being “wrong” are severe. It’s no coincidence that this describes many controversies that divide along partisan lines.

It’s tempting to assume that motivated reasoning is just something that happens to other people. I have political principles; you’re politically biased; he’s a fringe conspiracy theorist. But we would be wiser to acknowledge that we all think with our hearts rather than our heads sometimes.

Kris De Meyer, a neuroscientist at King’s College, London, shows his students a message describing an environmental activist’s problem with climate change denialism:


To summarise the climate deniers’ activities, I think we can say that:

(1) Their efforts have been aggressive while ours have been defensive.

(2) The deniers’ activities are rather orderly – almost as if they had a plan working for them.

I think the denialist forces can be characterised as dedicated opportunists. They are quick to act and seem to be totally unprincipled in the type of information they use to attack the scientific community. There is no question, though, that we have been inept in getting our side of the story, good though it may be, across to the news media and the public.

The students, all committed believers in climate change, outraged at the smokescreen laid down by the cynical and anti-scientific deniers, nod in recognition. Then De Meyer reveals the source of the text. It’s not a recent email. It’s taken, sometimes word for word, from an infamous internal memo written by a cigarette marketing executive in 1968. The memo is complaining not about “climate deniers” but about “anti-cigarette forces”, but otherwise, few changes were required.

You can use the same language, the same arguments, and perhaps even have the same conviction that you’re right, whether you’re arguing (rightly) that climate change is real or (wrongly) that the cigarette-cancer link is not.

(Here’s an example of this tendency that, for personal reasons, I can’t help but be sensitive about. My left-leaning, environmentally conscious friends are justifiably critical of ad hominem attacks on climate scientists. You know the kind of thing: claims that scientists are inventing data because of their political biases, or because they’re scrambling for funding from big government. In short, smearing the person rather than engaging with the evidence.

Yet the same friends are happy to embrace and amplify the same kind of tactics when they are used to attack my fellow economists: that we are inventing data because of our political biases, or scrambling for funding from big business. I tried to point out the parallel to one thoughtful person, and got nowhere. She was completely unable to comprehend what I was talking about. I’d call this a double standard, but that would be unfair – it would suggest that it was deliberate. It’s not. It’s an unconscious bias that’s easy to see in others and very hard to see in ourselves.)

Our emotional reaction to a statistical or scientific claim isn’t a side issue. Our emotions can, and often do, shape our beliefs more than any logic. We are capable of persuading ourselves to believe strange things, and to doubt solid evidence, in service of our political partisanship, our desire to keep drinking coffee, our unwillingness to face up to the reality of our HIV diagnosis, or any other cause that invokes an emotional response.

But we shouldn’t despair. We can learn to control our emotions – that is part of the process of growing up. The first simple step is to notice those emotions. When you see a statistical claim, pay attention to your own reaction. If you feel outrage, triumph, denial, pause for a moment. Then reflect. You don’t need to be an emotionless robot, but you could and should think as well as feel.

Most of us do not actively wish to delude ourselves, even when that might be socially advantageous. We have motives to reach certain conclusions, but facts matter, too. Lots of people would like to be movie stars, billionaires or immune to hangovers, but very few people believe that they actually are. Wishful thinking has limits. The more we get into the habit of counting to three and noticing our knee-jerk reactions, the closer to the truth we are likely to get.

For example, one survey, conducted by a team of academics, found that most people were perfectly able to distinguish serious journalism from fake news, and also agreed that it was important to amplify the truth, not lies. Yet the same people would happily share headlines such as “Over 500 ‘Migrant Caravaners’ Arrested With Suicide Vests”, because at the moment at which they clicked “share”, they weren’t stopping to think. They weren’t thinking, “Is this true?”, and they weren’t thinking, “Do I think the truth is important?” 

Instead, as they skimmed the internet in that state of constant distraction that we all recognise, they were carried away with their emotions and their partisanship. The good news is that simply pausing for a moment to reflect was all it took to filter out a lot of the misinformation. It doesn’t take much; we can all do it. All we need to do is acquire the habit of stopping to think.

Inflammatory memes or tub-thumping speeches invite us to leap to the wrong conclusion without thinking. That’s why we need to be calm. And that is also why so much persuasion is designed to arouse us – our lust, our desire, our sympathy or our anger. When was the last time Donald Trump, or for that matter Greenpeace, tweeted something designed to make you pause in calm reflection? Today’s persuaders don’t want you to stop and think. They want you to hurry up and feel. Don’t be rushed.

The magical science of storytelling

Into the brave new age of irrationality

The assault on rationality is part of a concerted political strategy writes Sanjay Rajoura in The Hindu

Much has been written and said about the assault on liberal arts under way in India since the new political era dawned. But the real assault is on science and rationality. And it has not been difficult to mount this attack.

For long, India has as a nation proudly claimed to be a society of belief. And Indians like to assert that faith is a ‘way of life’ here. Terms such as modernity, rational thinking and scientific analysis are often frowned upon, and misdiagnosed as disrespect to Indian culture.


Freshly minted spokesmodel

In recent years, we have entered a new era. I call it the Era of Irrationality. The new Chief Minister of Tripura, Biplab Kumar Deb, is the freshly minted spokesmodel of this bold, new era.

There appears to be a relay race among people in public positions, each one making an astonishingly ridiculous claim and then passing on the baton. Mr. Deb’s claim that the Internet existed in the times of the Mahabharata is the latest. But there have been several other persons before that: Ganesh was the first example of plastic surgery, Darwin’s theory of evolution is hokum because nobody has seen monkeys turning into humans, and that Stephen Hawking had said that Vedas have a theory superior to Einstein’s E = mc2.

Such statements have made us the laughing stock of the global scientific community. But more importantly, they also undermine the significant scientific achievements we have made post-Independence.

We cannot even dismiss these as random remarks by the fringe, the babas and the sadhus. These claims are often made by public officials (it’s another matter that the babas and sadhus are now occupying several public offices). The assault on rationality is a consequence of a concerted strategy of political forces. As rational thinking thins, the same political forces fatten.

We Indians have never really adopted the scientific temper, irrespective of our education. It’s evident from our obsession with crackpot sciences such as astrology and palmistry in our daily lives. However, in the past four years, the belief in pseudo-sciences has gained a political fig leaf as have tall, unverifiable claims on science.

The cultivation of scientific temper involves asking questions and demanding empirical evidence. It has no place for blind faith. The ruling political dispensation is uncomfortable with questioning Indians. But at the same time, it also wants to come across as a dispensation that champions a 21st century modern India. Therein lies a catch-22 situation.

So, they have devised a devious strategy to invest in the culture of blind belief. They already have a willing constituency. Ludicrous statements like those mentioned above — made by leaders in positions of power with alarming frequency — go on to legitimise and boost the Era of Irrationality.

An unscientific society makes the job of an incompetent ruler a lot easier. No questions are asked; not even basic ones. The ruler has to just make a claim and the believers will worship him. Rather than conforming, a truly rational community often questions disparity, exploitation, persecution on the basis of caste, religion or gender. It demands answers and accountability for such violations, which are often based on irrational whims. Hence rationality must be on top of the casualty list followed quickly by the minorities, Dalits, women, liberals. For the ‘Irrationality project’ to succeed, the ruler needs a willing suspension of disbelief on a mass scale.


Science v. technology

The vigour with which the government is making an assault on the scientific temper only confirms that it is actually frightened of it. This is the reason why authoritarian regimes are often intolerant of those who champion the spirit of science, but encourage scientists who will launch satellites and develop nuclear weapons — even as they break coconuts, chant hymns and press “Enter” with their fingers laden with auspicious stones.

These ‘techno-scientists’ are what I call ‘the DJs of the scientific community’. And they are often the establishment’s yes-men and yes-women.

The founders of the Constitution were aware of this. Hence the words “scientific temper” and “the spirit of inquiry and reform” find place in the Constitution, along with “secular” (belatedly), “equality” and “rights”. To dismantle secularism, dilute equality and pushback rights, it is imperative to destroy a scientific temperament.

The indoctrination against the scientific temper begins very early in our lives. It starts in our families and communities where young minds are aggressively discouraged from questioning authority and asking questions. An upper caste child for example may be forced to follow customs, which among others include practising and subscribing to the age-old caste system. The same methodology is used to impose fixed gender, sexual and religious identities. As a result, we are hardwired to be casteist, majoritarian and misogynist.

The final step in the ‘Irrationality project’ is to inject with regularity, preposterous, over-the-top claims about the nation’s past. It effectively blurs vision of the present.

The world is busy studying string theory, the god particle in a cyclotron, quantum mechanics. But we are busy expanding our chest size with claims of a fantastic yore.

I used to think people made rational decisions. But now I know I was wrong

Deborah Orr in The Guardian

It’s been coming on for a while, so I can’t claim any eureka moment. But something did crystallise this year. What I changed my mind about was people. More specifically, I realised that people cannot be relied upon to make rational choices. We would have fixed global warming by now if we were rational. Instead, there’s a stubborn refusal to let go of the idea that environmental degradation is a “debate” in which there are “two sides”.

Debating is a great way of exploring an issue when there is real room for doubt and nuance. But when a conclusion can be reached simply by assembling a mountain of known facts, debating is just a means of pitting the rational against the irrational. 

Humans like to think we are rational. Some of us are more rational than others. But, essentially, we are all slaves to our feelings and emotions. The trick is to realise this, and be sure to guard against it. It’s something that, in the modern world, we are not good at. Authentic emotions are valued over dry, dull authentic evidence at every turn.

I think that as individuality has become fetishised, our belief in our right to make half-formed snap judgments, based on little more than how we feel, has become problematically unchallengeable. When Uma Thurman declared that she would wait for her anger to abate before she spoke about Harvey Weinstein, it was, I believe, in recognition of this tendency to speak first and think later.

Good for her. The value of calm reasoning is not something that one sees acknowledged very often at the moment. Often, the feelings and emotions that form the basis of important views aren’t so very fine. Sometimes humans understand and control their emotions so little that they sooner or later coagulate into a roiling soup of anxiety, fear, sadness, self-loathing, resentment and anger which expresses itself however it can, finding objects to project its hurt and confusion on to. Like immigrants. Or transsexuals. Or liberals. Or Tories. Or women. Or men.

Even if the desire to find living, breathing scapegoats is resisted, untrammelled emotion can result in unwise and self-defeating decisions, devoid of any rationality. Rationality is a tool we have created to govern our emotions. That’s why education, knowledge, information is the cornerstone of democracy. And that’s why despots love ignorance.

Sometimes we can identify and harness the emotions we need to get us through the thing we know, rationally, that we have to do. It’s great when you’re in the zone. Even negative emotions can be used rationally. I, for example, use anger a lot in my work. I’m writing on it at this moment, just as much as I’m writing on a computer. I’ll stop in a moment. I’ll reach for facts to calm myself. I’ll reach for facts to make my emotions seem rational. Or maybe that’s just me. Whatever that means.


‘‘Consciousness’ involves no executive or causal relationship with any of the psychological processes attributed to it'David Oakley and Peter Halligan


It’s a fact that I can find some facts to back up my feelings about people. Just writing that down helps me to feel secure and in control. The irrationality of humans has been considered a fact since the 1970s, when two psychologists, Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman, showed that human decisions were often completely irrational, not at all in their own interests and based on “cognitive biases”. Their ideas were a big deal, and also formed the basis of Michael Lewis’s book, The Undoing Project.

More recent research – or more recent theory, to be precise – has rendered even Tversky and Kahneman’s ideas about the unreliability of the human mind overly rational.

Chasing the Rainbow: The Non-Conscious Nature of Being is a research paper from University College London and Cardiff University. Its authors, David Oakley and Peter Halligan, argue “that ‘consciousness’ contains no top-down control processes and that ‘consciousness’ involves no executive, causal, or controlling relationship with any of the familiar psychological processes conventionally attributed to it”.

Which can only mean that even when we think we’re being rational, we’re not even really thinking. That thing we call thinking – we don’t even know what it really is.

When I started out in journalism, opinion columns weren’t a big thing. Using the word “I’ in journalism was frowned upon. The dispassionate dissemination of facts was the goal to be reached for.

Now so much opinion is published, in print and online, and so many people offer their opinions about the opinions, that people in our government feel comfortable in declaring that experts are overrated, and the president of the United States regularly says that anything he doesn’t like is “fake news”.

So, people. They’re a problem. That’s what I’ve decided. I’m part of a big problem. All I can do now is get my message out there.

Will India get over its obsession with godmen?

K N Pannikar in The Hindu

The recent revelations about the ‘divine preoccupations’ of godmen in the sacred precincts of their ashrams have been appalling, not because they were bereft of such qualities in the past. From the time of the Maharaj libel case (1862) through the intrigues of Chandraswami and Dhirendra Brahmachari, to the contemporary saga of Dera Sacha Sauda and Asaram Bapu, the list is unending. But this time the incidents of sex, murder and mayhem, which were reportedly enacted in their ashrams, are lurid and startling. That the godmen were able to pursue their interests for years without attracting the attention of the state is perhaps not surprising, given the nexus between political power and religious establishments, but it is reprehensible.

The unflinching faith of the followers in the divinity of godmen is the latter’s main capital, which is assiduously constructed over time. Under coercion or consent, the devotees appear to submit to the extortion or exploitation of godmen. Contemporary India looks like a modern country with scientific establishments, and high-speed trains and expansive highways, but set in a social situation reeking of medievalism, caste discrimination, religious obscurantism, gender inequality and superstitions.


Modernity and irrationality

The coexistence of modernity with irrationality and obscurantism, which has often been dismissed as a passing phase of a society in transition, has been a (the?) hallmark of independent India. The ruling elite pinned their hopes on economic development to overcome this impediment, but economic development has not been all-embracing. Facing the crisis thus generated by the apparently elite character of development, it was not surprising that a large segment of the population succumbed to the temptations of an unreal world which godmen proffered.

Yet another constituency of the godmen were the members of the burgeoning middle class of the post-Independence era. The hallmark of this class was the intense cultural and social crisis for which they sought a solution in other-worldliness advocated by the godmen. They were led to an island of liberation where all social inhibitions could be shed, and peace and salvation promised, through the medium of the godmen. The mindless support godmen thus elicit from their unsuspecting followers is used to garner social, political and economic power.

In recent times, the increasing number of godmen (and women) are spotted in State governments and corporate board meetings, educational institutions, and all other important places. They are not spiritual men but ambitious con artists who purvey deception, falsehood and religiosity in the name of god.


Education not enough

Rationalists and liberals looked upon education which promoted scientific temper and rational thinking as the antidote to what they conceived as a result of cultural and social backwardness. But education has not adequately fulfilled this role. After all, the substantial following that godmen command is not from the illiterate masses, but from the well-educated middle class that tends to celebrate the irrational in the name of culture.

Popular media, either consciously or unconsciously, promotes and reinforces irrationality and superstition. The reading material available in almost all Indian languages is replete with accounts of the charismatic personae and spiritual qualities of godmen. Not only religious channels, but some secular channels too telecast programmes eulogising their qualities and achievements. From these popular representations, and patronage they seem to enjoy from the state, they derive considerable legitimacy.


The godmen are here to stay, until social consciousness undergoes a qualitative change.

World’s largest hedge fund to replace managers with artificial intelligence

Olivia Solon in The Guardian


The world’s largest hedge fund is building a piece of software to automate the day-to-day management of the firm, including hiring, firing and other strategic decision-making.

Bridgewater Associates has a team of software engineers working on the project at the request of billionaire founder Ray Dalio, who wants to ensure the company can run according to his vision even when he’s not there, the Wall Street Journal reported.

“The role of many remaining humans at the firm wouldn’t be to make individual choices but to design the criteria by which the system makes decisions, intervening when something isn’t working,” wrote the Journal, which spoke to five former and current employees.

 

Ray Dalio, president and founder of Bridgewater Associates. Photograph: Bloomberg/Bloomberg via Getty Images

The firm, which manages $160bn, created the team of programmers specializing in analytics and artificial intelligence, dubbed the Systematized Intelligence Lab, in early 2015. The unit is headed up by David Ferrucci, who previously led IBM’s development of Watson, the supercomputer that beat humans at Jeopardy! in 2011.

The company is already highly data-driven, with meetings recorded and staff asked to grade each other throughout the day using a ratings system called “dots”. The Systematized Intelligence Lab has built a tool that incorporates these ratings into “Baseball Cards” that show employees’ strengths and weaknesses. Another app, dubbed The Contract, gets staff to set goals they want to achieve and then tracks how effectively they follow through.

These tools are early applications of PriOS, the over-arching management software that Dalio wants to make three-quarters of all management decisions within five years. The kinds of decisions PriOS could make include finding the right staff for particular job openings and ranking opposing perspectives from multiple team members when there’s a disagreement about how to proceed.

The machine will make the decisions, according to a set of principles laid out by Dalio about the company vision.

“It’s ambitious, but it’s not unreasonable,” said Devin Fidler, research director at the Institute For The Future, who has built a prototype management system called iCEO. “A lot of management is basically information work, the sort of thing that software can get very good at.”

Automated decision-making is appealing to businesses as it can save time and eliminate human emotional volatility.

“People have a bad day and it then colors their perception of the world and they make different decisions. In a hedge fund that’s a big deal,” he added.

Will people happily accept orders from a robotic manager? Fidler isn’t so sure. “People tend not to accept a message delivered by a machine,” he said, pointing to the need for a human interface.

“In companies that are really good at data analytics very often the decision is made by a statistical algorithm but the decision is conveyed by somebody who can put it in an emotional context,” he explained.

Futurist Zoltan Istvan, founder of the Transhumanist party, disagrees. “People will follow the will and statistical might of machines,” he said, pointing out that people already outsource way-finding to GPS or the flying of planes to autopilot.

However, the period in which people will need to interact with a robot manager will be brief.

“Soon there just won’t be any reason to keep us around,” Istvan said. “Sure, humans can fix problems, but machines in a few years time will be able to fix those problems even better.

“Bankers will become dinosaurs.”

It’s not just the banking sector that will be affected. According to a report by Accenture, artificial intelligence will free people from the drudgery of administrative tasks in many industries. The company surveyed 1,770 managers across 14 countries to find out how artificial intelligence would impact their jobs.

'This is awful': robot can keep children occupied for hours without supervision



“AI will ultimately prove to be cheaper, more efficient, and potentially more impartial in its actions than human beings,” said the authors writing up the results of the survey in Harvard Business Review.

However, they didn’t think there was too much cause for concern. “It just means that their jobs will change to focus on things only humans can do.”

The authors say that machines would be better at administrative tasks like writing earnings reports and tracking schedules and resources while humans would be better at developing messages to inspire the workforce and drafting strategy.

Fidler disagrees. “There’s no reason to believe that a lot of what we think of as strategic work or even creative work can’t be substantially overtaken by software.”

However, he said, that software will need some direction. “It needs human decision making to set objectives.”
Bridgewater Associates did not respond to a request for comment.

How economists view love, marriage, and Valentine’s Day

Pramit Bhattacharya in Live Mint

Can the dismal science of economics throw light on the seemingly irrational phenomenon of love? For a long time, economists did not consider love to be within the ambit of their study, and ignored it altogether even as they used the economic lens to study other esoteric subjects such as crime and fertility. The neglect of love ended in the 1970s, when the Nobel winning economist Gary Becker for the first time laid out a framework to analyse love and marriage in a series of research papers. 

Using simple economic tools and high school algebra, Becker showed how seemingly irrational life choices and decisions could in fact be explained by rational choice theory. Becker’s analysis was based on two simple principles. First, given that marriage is almost always voluntary, either by the couples or their parents, the theory of preferences can explain marriage and couples (or their parents) can be expected to derive more satisfaction (or higher utility) from being married than from remaining single. Second, Becker held that a market in marriages can be presumed to exist since many men and women compete as they seek mates. Each person tries to find the best mate subject to market conditions. 

Based on these two principles, Becker draws out a theory of marriage that says that each person will tend to pair with someone with whom the chances of maximizing their household production of goods and services are the highest. The set of household goods and services include tangible goods the market provides as well as non-market goods such as shared pastimes, or the joys of raising children. The couple’s level of satisfaction is determined both by market and non-market earnings. But, given that time and effort spent on raising market earnings can diminish non-market earnings, each couple uses economic principles to allocate the scarce resource of time. 

Becker argued that the division of labour within the family is driven by the differences in market earnings, which in turn are determined by the marginal productivity of the two partners. The partner with a higher wage then specializes in the production of market goods and services, while the partner with the lower wage specializes in the production of non-market goods and services. Other things being equal, a high-earning male is more likely to marry a low-earning female and vice-versa. Of course, if women are perceived to have a comparative advantage in the production of non-market goods (such as those involved in raising children), it is likely that the marriage market equilibrium will tend to have many more pairs where men rather than women are the sole wage earners. 

While spouses are likely to differ in market earnings, both theory and empirical evidence suggested likes tend to attract more when it comes to other attributes such as education or physical attractiveness, wrote Becker. He argued such attributes as education or beauty are complementary inputs in the production of non-market goods and services whereas wage income could be substituted by one partner for the other. The lack of complementary attributes could well explain a significant chunk of separations among couples, Becker hypothesized. 

The gains from marriage are determined by how the division of labour occurs. If a lot of effort is expended on policing whether a partner is performing his or her assigned role, then the net gains to the couple will be relatively less (the gains are essentially reduced because of transaction costs). The gains also depend on whether a sizeable fraction of the output generated after marriage can be jointly shared. Love accentuates the gains from marriage because each partner then cares about the satisfaction (or utility function) of the other. Consequently, with love, transaction costs are lowered and the gains from marriage increase. Love also increases the likelihood of increased production of shared family goods, thereby raising the gains from marriage further. 

Becker was among the first economic imperialists who extended the reach of economics to analyse complex social behaviours that were considered the exclusive domain of sociology. Social scientists initially ignored, then mocked, and finally began accepting some of Becker’s key insights into the nature of marriage. Later work by economists and sociologists have refined, extended and, in some cases, revised Becker’s framework. 

A 1997 review essay by economist Yoram Weiss of Tel-Aviv University succinctly summarizes some of the key economic insights into marriage. Weiss lists four key economic reasons for marriage. First, division of labour after marriage tend to raise joint gains. Second, with imperfect credit markets, marriage can solve credit intermediation problems, with one partner investing in the other. For instance, if both partners work but one has a greater ability to earn, it may be profitable for the partner with the lower ability to earn to fund his or her partner’s education while he or she takes care of home expenses. Such arrangements are indeed common in the modern world. Thirdly, marriage leads to the production of shared family goods (more technically, public goods, which are non-rivalrous and non-excludable). Finally, marriage leads to risk-pooling when two partners have uncertain but different sources of income. 

An influential 1999 study of cohabiting couples by sociologists Julie Brines and Kara Joyner extended Becker’s framework of married couples to analyse the behaviour of people living together. The duo analysed data on both married and cohabiting couples to find that although there was some evidence pointing towards specialization among married couples, the evidence was weak. 

There was no evidence to suggest specialization among cohabiting couples. On the contrary, live-in relationships tended to be durable when both partners shared equally in domestic work. Unlike married couples who have a more collectivist approach, cohabiting couples tend to display a more individualist streak. Hence, cohabiting couples tend to balance their individual interests by basing their behaviour on the principle of equality. 

More interestingly, the chances of a break-up were far higher among cohabiting couples than among married ones when women earned substantially more than men. In contrast, the chances of a break-up are much smaller when a wife begins to earn more than her husband. While cohabitation seems to be based on the premise of equality and rejects traditional gender roles, it is not immune to them, the study suggests. It is marriage that seems to withstand unorthodox economic power relations better. 

“Cohabitation draws part of its appeal from an image that promises greater flexibility and experimentation,” wrote Brines and Joyner. “In short, it bespeaks few ‘rules.’ For a relationship to persist, however, some operating principle must mediate the tension between the interests of the parties involved. For husbands and wives, the marriage contract helps to manage these interests, encourages joint investment, and permits some flexibility around the norm of male providership…. For cohabitors, uncertainty and implied contracts intensify the tension between the interests of the two partners and place greater stress on a bargaining principle that is difficult to adhere to over time. Thus, we find that breaking the rule in an arrangement ‘without rules’ is more disruptive than any comparable violation in marriage.” 

As Weiss pointed out in her essay, economics alone is not enough for marital analysis. Very often non-economic considerations do play a dominant role in romantic relationships. Yet, economics can provide valuable insights into the nature of relationships, which together with observations from other disciplines such as sociology can feed into a unified theory of relationships. 

The power of economics stems from its ability to explain how rational calculations underlie seemingly irrational behaviour. Even romantic melodrama, such as a lover fasting outside his beloved’s house, can be explained by rational choice theory. Such an act is a powerful way of signalling commitment, according to the Nobel economist Michael Spence. 

Do Valentine’s day gifts also satisfy the test of economic rationality? Neil MacArthur and Mariana Adshade use game theory to show why it is best to avoid such gifts, especially if a couple is already committed. 

“Valentine’s Day, essentially, is a game in which each person who is in a relationship must choose between two strategies; buy a gift for their significant other or do nothing to celebrate the day,” the duo writes. 

Given that there are two players, each with two strategic options, there are three possible outcomes that can happen on the day. The first outcome is that both buy gifts, and are satisfied to learn that their partner is committed to the relationship. But that satisfaction comes at a huge cost as most Valentine day gifts are over-priced. The second outcome is that one partner buys a gift and the other does not. One need not explain the consequence. Suffice to say that break-ups tend to spike up in the second half of February, according to Facebook data. The third outcome is that neither gifts. 

“The best strategy would be for couples to ignore the holiday altogether, but they won’t because there is just too much pressure to conform to the holiday traditions from both inside and outside the relationship. From a game strategic perspective, participating in the holiday just leads to sub-optimal outcomes,” the duo argues. 

Nobel Prize winners say markets are irrational, yet efficient

S A Aiyar in The Times of India

Are stock markets irrational, driven by greed and fear, subject to euphoria and panic? Or are they highly efficient indicators of intrinsic value? Both, says the Nobel Prize Comittee for Economics, with no sense of contradiction.

It has just awarded the prize jointly to economists with opposing views. Robert Shiller is famous for two versions of his book 'Irrational Exuberance'. The first version appeared in 2000 at the height of the dotcom boom, and correctly predicted that this was a bubble about to burst. The second version came in 2005 just as the housing market was skyrocketing, and predicted (again correctly) that this too was a bubble likely to burst resoundingly.

This confirmed Shiller's status as a behavioural economist. Such economists laugh at the notion that human beings are rational economic actors, as portrayed in textbooks. No, say behaviourists, humans are driven by fads, prejudices, manias, and irrational bouts of optimism and pessimism. Yet Shiller is going to share the Nobel Prize with Eugene Fama, famous for his "efficient markets hypothesis." This states that markets are like computers processing information from millions of sources on millions of economic actors, and hence produce more efficient long-run valuations than the most talented genius.

Fama's market behaviour is fundamentally random, so future trends cannot be predicted by even the cleverest investors. He implies that choosing stocks by throwing darts at a stock market chart can beat the recommendations of top experts. This has been verified by some, though not all, dartthrowing contests.

Corollary: ordinary investors must not pay high fees to experts to pick winners. Instead they should invest passively in a group of shares (like the 30 shares constituting the Bombay Sensex or Dow Jones Industrial Average), and ride these bandwagons without paying any fees. This has led to the spectacularly successful emergence of Index-traded funds (like those run by Vanguard in the US). Such funds are indexed to share groups like the Sensex or the Banks Nifty. Rather than try to pick individual winners in say the auto, pharma or realty sectors, index funds invest passively in a group of auto, pharma or realty companies. This has proved successful and popular.

Two groups criticize the efficient markets hypothesis: big investment gurus and, paradoxically, leftists viewing financial markets as instruments of the devil. Investment gurus like Warren Buffett in the US or Rakesh Jhunjhunwala in India claim to have beaten the market average handsomely, thus disproving the efficient markets hypothesis. Not so says Fama: in any large collection of investors there will always be some who perform above average and some below average - this is a matter of statistical chance, not skill. Moreover, investment gurus have so many contacts that they may have insider information enabling them to beat the market by unfair means.

As for Shiller's successful predictions, Fama says capitalism is driven by booms and busts. To predict at the height of a boom (like Shiller) that a bust will follow is banality, not genius. It is as unremarkable to predict during every bust that a boom will follow.

After the 2008 global financial crisis, the new conventional wisdom is that governments need macro prudential policies to check future financial crises, and that finance should be more strictly regulated than ever before. However, the counter is that the financial crisis occurred even though the financial sector was already the most regulated (with 12,000 regulators in the US alone). Governments had encouraged reckless lending by guaranteeing large banks and investment banks against failure, and by creating governmentbacked underwriters like Fannie Mae who shouldered any burdens caused by mass default.

Perhaps the Nobel Prize Committee is right in implying that markets can be both irrational and efficient at the same time. Since humans are irrational, they will always create markets that have booms and busts, marked by irrational optimism and pessimism. An efficient markets defined by Fama and his followers is not one that produces steady growth without booms, busts or crises. It is efficient only in the limited sense that, whether the markets are calm or irrational, they represent the processed information of millions of actions of millions of actors, and this is inherently more efficient than the efforts of any individual investor.

The argument is analogous to the one against communism or dictatorship. Communists believed that the great and good politburo, motivated entirely by the public interest and not profit, would run the economy better than the chaos, irrationality and imperfections of the capitalist market. Yet the market, with all its flaws and irrationality, proved infinitely more efficient.

Fama holds that this is true of financial markets too. This is compatible with Shiller's analysis. Markets can be both irrational and efficient.

The left's irrational fear of American intervention

In Syria, as elsewhere, US military might is the best available means of preventing crimes against humanity

• 
• • Niall Ferguson
  • The Guardian, Friday 6 September 2013 16.15 BST

Protesters in Seattle pictured during a march against US intervention in Syria. Photograph: Rick Barry/Demotix/Corbis

Not for the first time, human rights violations by a Middle Eastern tyrant pose a dilemma for leftists on both sides of the Atlantic. (Editor's comment - not true the right is divided on this issue). On the one hand, they don't like reading about people being gassed. On the other, they are deeply reluctant to will the means to end the killing, for fear of acknowledging that western – meaning, in practice, American – military power can be a force for good. (For Ferguson it is an act of faith - Editor)

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Also read

We should have been traumatised into action by this war in 2011. And 2012. But now?

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Ever since the 1990s, when the United States finally bestirred itself to end the post-Yugoslav violence in the Balkans, I have made three arguments that the left cannot abide. The first is that American military power is the best available means of preventing crimes against humanity. The second is that, unfortunately, the US is a reluctant "liberal empire" because of three deficits: of manpower, money and attention. And the third is that, when it retreats from global hegemony, we shall see more not less violence (yes due to the power vacuum created but did the hegemon maintains its power by non violent means?).

More recently, almost exactly year ago, I was lambasted for arguing that Barack Obama's principal weaknesses were a tendency to defer difficult decisions to Congress and a lack of coherent strategy in the Middle East. Events have confirmed the predictive power of all this analysis.

To the isolationists on both left and right, Obama's addiction to half- and quarter-measures is just fine – anything rather than risk "another Iraq". But such complacency (not to say callousness) understates the danger of the dynamics at work in the Middle East today. Just because the US is being led by the geopolitical equivalent of Hamlet doesn't mean stasis on the global stage. On the contrary, the less the US does, the more rapidly the region changes, as the various actors jostle for position in a post-American Middle East.

Syria today is in the process of being partitioned. Note that something similar has already happened in Iraq (How did this happen Niall?). What we are witnessing is not just the end of the Middle East of the 1970s. This could be the end of the Middle East of the 1920s. The borders of today, as is well known, can be traced back to the work of British and French diplomats during the first world war. The infamous Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916 was the first of a series of steps that led to the breakup of the Ottoman empire and the creation of the states we know today as Syria and Iraq, as well as Jordan, Lebanon and Israel.

As we approach the centenary of the outbreak of the first world war, there is no obvious reason why these states should all survive in their present form.

It is tempting to think of this as a re-Ottomanisation process, as the region reverts to its pre-1914 borders. But it may be more accurate to see this as a second Yugoslavia, with sectarian conflict leading to "ethnic cleansing" and a permanent redrawing of the maps. In the case of Bosnia and Kosovo, it took another Democrat US president an agonisingly long time to face up to the need for intervention. But he eventually did. I would not be surprised to see a repeat performance if that president's wife should end up succeeding Obama in the White House. After all, there is strong evidence to suggest Obama agreed to the original chemical weapons "red line" only under pressure from Hillary Clinton's state department.

Yet the president may not be able to sustain his brand of minimalist interventionism until 2016. While all eyes are focused on chemical weapons in Syria, the mullahs in Iran continue with their efforts to acquire nuclear weapons. The latest IAEA report on this subject makes for disturbing reading. I find it hard to believe that even the pusillanimous Obama would be able to ignore evidence that Tehran had crossed that red line, even if it was drawn by the Israeli prime minister rather than by him.

The Iranian factor is one of a number of key differences between the break up of Yugoslavia and the breakup of countries like Syria and Iraq.

The Middle East is not the Balkans. The population is larger, younger, poorer and less educated. The forces of radical Islam are far more powerful. It is impossible to identify a single "bad guy" in the way that Slobodan Milosevic became the west's bete noire. And there are multiple regional players – Iran, Turkey, the Saudis, as well as the Russians – with deep pockets and serious military capabilities. All in all, the end of pan-Arabism is a much scarier process than the end of pan-Slavism. And the longer the US dithers, the bigger the sectarian conflicts in the region are likely to become.

The proponents of non-intervention – or, indeed, of ineffectual intervention – need to face a simple reality. Inaction is a policy that also has consequences measurable in terms of human life. The assumption that there is nothing worse in the world than American empire is an article of leftwing faith (I agree and the left has to overcome this bias). It is not supported by the historical record.

Dogma will lead to Murder

by A C Grayling

Although defenders of religion like to portray faith as a source of peace and fellowship, and condemn those who commit atrocities in its name as untrue believers, the daily news media show how far this is from being invariably true. In fact, the relentless drip of bad news about religion-prompted violence in the world shows that the more zealous people are in their religious beliefs, the more likely they are to behave in non-rational, antisocial or violent ways.

The cold-blooded public murder of soldier Lee Rigby in Woolwich this week is an example. Murders are committed for a variety of reasons, but one thing they have in common is that those who commit them have to be in an abnormal state of mind. From rage or jealousy, through the cold psychopathology of the professional hitman, to the soldier who must be rigorously schooled and disciplined so that he can kill other human beings in defined circumstances, a difference to the normal mindset is required. One potent way of achieving the required mindset is religious zealotry.

Belief in supernatural beings, miracles and the fantastical tales told in ancient scriptures is, at least, irrational and, at worst, pathological. The more earnest the belief, therefore, the less sane is it likely to be in its application to the real world. At the extreme, it not only prompts but also – from their own perspective – justifies believers in what they do. Unnatural lifestyles, self-harm, ritualistic repetitive behaviours, fantasy beliefs and the like – all of them the norm for religiously committed folk – might be harmless to others in most cases, but when they become annexed to hostility to others outside the faith, or to apostates within it, the result is dangerous.

To the ordinarily sane mind, such acts as butchering a stranger in the street in broad daylight, and engineering a mass murder such as happened on 9/11, are in equal proportions lunatic and disgusting. Working backwards from that judgement, we must arrive at the conclusion that the people who do such things are neither ordinary nor sane. They exhibit a defining mark of psychopathology: the ability to proceed by perfectly rational steps from mad premises to horrible conclusions, while yet displaying in most of their surrounding behaviour the appearance of normality.

Consider: the 9/11 murderers engaged in a long period of flying training, planning, financing their activities and living among their victims – even queuing politely to get on the fatal planes with those they were about to kill – and all this takes self-control. But wedged into the outwardly normal behaviour, like a rusted medieval nail driven deep into their brains, was the lunatic belief that they were doing something meritorious, justified and moral.

“Faith,” someone once said, “is what I will die for; dogma is what I will kill for.” The border between preparedness to die and kill is so porous that it is easily crossed. As a result, history welters in the blood of religion-inspired mayhem. The problem is the complete and unshakeable assurance that religion gives its votaries that what they do in its name deserves praise. Agents of the Inquisition burned heretics to death to save them from the consequences of persisting in their sinfulness, so that they would spend less time in purgatory. So it was, they believed, an act of kindness to kill them. The current crop of terrorists do not bother to claim kindness towards their victims; hatred – or, at a poor best, revenge – is the frankly avowed motive. But here the justification is that unbelievers are worthless, deserving nothing but death.

It is a theme of recent critical attacks on religion that it is too often divisive, conflict-generating, atrocity-justifying and inflammatory – and this quite independently of whether any religious claims about supernatural beings or miraculous occurrences are true. Religious apologists are eager to point to the charitable and artistic outcomes of religion either as a palliation or an excuse, but non-religious people do charitable and artistic things, too, and it is hard to detach them from the kindness and creativity, respectively, that are a natural endowment of most human beings no matter what they believe.

In further defence of religion, its apologists haul out the weary canards about Hitler, Stalin and Mao as examples of secular committers of atrocity – the claim even being made that they did what they did in the cause of atheism as such. Apart from the fact that Hitler was not an atheist, the interesting point about ideologies that claim the One Great Truth and the One Right Way is that it does not matter whether it invokes gods or the dialectic of history as their justification; it is their monolithic and totalising character that does the work of making them murderous. The Inquisition of Torquemada and Stalinism are little different in their effects on their hapless victims.

The obvious point to note about the murders carried out in the name of a deity this week, whether Sunni car bomb attacks on Shia in Iraq or the murder of Lee Rigby, is that they were affairs of conviction. To do such things, you have to be convinced to the point of unreason that you are doing right. Note this contrast: in the careful estimations of a scientific world-view, nothing is so certain. The absence of question marks and their prompting of reflection, caution and the search for good evidence are not required when it comes to the eternal truths of faith.

Is there any way of combating the corrosive effects of unreasoning religious conviction that leads to so much murder in the world? Yes: stop making children think that they must implicitly accept and unquestioningly obey one or another supposed Great Truth. Encourage them to be sceptical, to ask for the reasons and the evidence, to see with a clear eye the consequences that might follow from believing an inherited picture of the world that wishes to be immune to challenge or revision, and is prepared to kill people who do challenge it.

Then, in a generation or two, what happened on a Woolwich street might become close to impossible.