Showing posts with label manipulation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manipulation. Show all posts
Friday, 5 April 2024
Tuesday, 16 January 2024
Friday, 11 August 2023
Economics for Dummies 4: It's not the Figures Lying; but the Liars Figuring
ChatGPT
The phrase "It's not the figures lying but the liars figuring" is a clever play on words that highlights the concept that deceptive or misleading information doesn't originate from the numbers themselves, but rather from the individuals who manipulate or interpret those numbers to suit their agenda. In other words, the problem isn't with the data itself, but with the people who present or analyze it dishonestly. Let's explore this idea further with several examples:
Political Manipulation: Imagine a politician using unemployment statistics to make a false claim about job growth during their term in office. They might present the figures in a way that only highlights a specific time frame or excludes certain groups from the calculation, making the situation seem better than it actually is. In this case, the figures themselves aren't lying; it's the politician who is manipulating the data to create a deceptive narrative.
Marketing Deception: A company might advertise a product as "80% fat-free," emphasizing the low-fat aspect while conveniently ignoring that the product is loaded with sugar and unhealthy additives. The numeric figure (80%) isn't lying, but the company is deliberately omitting important information to mislead consumers about the overall healthiness of the product.
Financial Misrepresentation: An investment advisor might use historical stock market data to convince potential clients that their investment strategy has consistently yielded high returns. However, they might conveniently leave out the years of losses or market crashes that occurred in between those successful periods. The data itself is accurate, but the omission of crucial information makes the overall representation deceptive.
Media Manipulation: A news outlet could present crime statistics for a particular neighborhood, emphasizing a recent decrease in reported crimes. However, they might not mention that the police have changed their reporting methods, leading to a potential undercount of certain crimes. Here, the figures are accurate, but the media outlet is framing the information to create a misleading impression.
Scientific Distortion: A study might be conducted on a new drug, and the researchers focus solely on the positive outcomes for a specific subgroup of participants while ignoring negative effects in a larger group. The statistics accurately reflect the results among the subgroup, but the study as a whole is presented in a way that distorts the overall effectiveness and safety of the drug.
Historical Revisionism: A historian could present data on a historical event, emphasizing aspects that support a particular narrative while downplaying or ignoring contradictory evidence. This selective interpretation of historical figures and events can shape public understanding in a biased or misleading way.
In each of these examples, the underlying data or figures might be accurate, but it's the intentional manipulation, selective presentation, or omission of relevant information that leads to deception. The phrase "It's not the figures lying but the liars figuring" serves as a cautionary reminder to critically evaluate the context, interpretation, and motivations behind any presentation of information.
---Some more examples
Political Spin: During an election campaign, a candidate might boast about reducing the budget deficit by 50% during their tenure as mayor. While this figure is accurate, they conveniently omit the fact that the deficit was much higher when they took office, and their policies actually contributed to a slight increase in the deficit in recent years. The numbers themselves are true, but the candidate is shaping the narrative to make their performance seem more impressive than it is.
Food Labeling Tricks: A cereal brand advertises that it contains "only 10g of sugar per serving," giving the impression of a healthy breakfast option. However, they fail to mention that the serving size is half of what an average person would eat, making the actual sugar content much higher. The figure presented is true, but it's manipulated to deceive consumers about the product's nutritional value.
Stock Market Deception: A stockbroker promotes a trading strategy by highlighting a series of successful trades that generated substantial profits over a short period. What they don't disclose is that these successes were part of a high-risk gamble that wiped out most of their clients' investments in the long run. The actual trade figures are accurate, but the broker is manipulating the narrative to attract clients without revealing the full context.
Cherry-Picked Research Findings: A pharmaceutical company publishes a study showing that their new medication has a higher success rate compared to a placebo. They omit the fact that the medication also has severe side effects in a significant number of cases. While the success rate data is true, the company is selectively presenting only the positive outcomes to create a favorable impression of the drug's effectiveness.
Climate Change Denial: Critics of climate change might point to a period of unusually cold weather to argue that global warming is a hoax. They ignore the broader trend of rising global temperatures over decades, which is supported by extensive scientific data. While the localized cold weather figures are accurate, their selective use distorts the larger reality of climate change.
Historical Manipulation: A country's government downplays the atrocities committed during a war, emphasizing instances where their military acted heroically while omitting documented cases of civilian casualties. This skewed presentation of historical figures and events seeks to shape a more favorable national narrative, despite the factual accuracy of the individual incidents mentioned.
Saturday, 20 May 2023
Saturday, 4 February 2023
Friday, 29 October 2021
Friday, 13 August 2021
Wednesday, 17 March 2021
Monday, 16 March 2020
How fighting an employer or becoming a whistleblower can lead to retaliation and undermining tactics
Alicia Clegg in The FT
Caroline Barlow felt little emotion when she settled with the BBC last May and withdrew her employment tribunal claims over unequal pay and constructive dismissal. Just a crushing tiredness that left her shaky and sick and so disoriented that for a while she stopped driving.
She now views her reaction as a kind of grieving, for her job and faith in an institution that she had revered. She entered the BBC’s pay review process suspecting that she was paid less than male heads of product doing jobs similar to her own, and received a 25 per cent rise, though with little explanation of how the figure was arrived at. So she used data protection law to view internal documents that indicated that even after the increase she would still be paid less. The assessors argued, without providing evidence, that she had skills she still needed to develop and the men had bigger roles.
“Publicly the BBC was saying it had introduced a transparent process. Yet, it was made very clear to me that I’d only get salary information on my peers at a final tribunal hearing by court order,” she says.
Like the journalist Carrie Gracie, who also challenged unequal pay at the BBC, Ms Barlow talks of her sense of entering a no-man’s-land of stonewalling and doublespeak, where evidence that she presented was watered down or selectively reported. She says that a strategic project described as “transforming” in a business case, for which she obtained executive committee sign-off, was trivialised as “a hygiene project” after she questioned her pay. She felt blocked by the slow progress of her grievance — she only received the outcome on her final day of employment − undermined in numerous small ways and made to feel unimportant. She became ill and was diagnosed with depression.
Lawrence Davies, director of Equal Justice Solicitors, who acted for Ms Barlow, says such experiences are common. Most employers try to quash internal complaints to avoid exposing themselves legally, should the employee sue. Yet while employers uphold only 1 per cent of grievances, he says, 65-70 per cent of complainants who persevere to an employment tribunal ultimately win, though the strain can be immense.
Kathy Ahern, a retired mental health nurse and academic, studied the psychological toll of challenging an employer after discovering that nurses who reported misconduct had strong beliefs about what it means to be a nurse. When they faced reprisals for putting patients before other loyalties they suffered overwhelming mental distress, not just because of what was done, but because the institutional reality gave the lie to everything that nursing codes of conduct teach. Another study, published in the journal Psychological Reports in 2019, found levels of anxiety and depression among whistleblowers are similar to those of cancer patients.
Ms Ahern likens retaliatory employers to domestic abusers who psychologically manipulate or “gaslight” a partner to destroy their self-confidence and credibility. Tell-tale patterns, which she documents in a review paper published in the Journal of Perinatal & Neonatal Nursing in 2018, run the gamut from maliciously finding fault, to sustained campaigns of petty slights and obstructions, to seeding rumours that the victim is unhinged.
Tom Mueller, author of Crisis of Conscience: Whistleblowing in an Age of Fraud, believes that while employers sometimes label whistleblowers as “crazy” simply to tarnish them, this may actually be how they see them. To “more negotiable” colleagues who know when to bend with the wind, they may come across as “unreasonable sticklers”, and end up friendless and questioning their own sanity.
Margaret Oliver, a former detective with Greater Manchester Police, says that senior officers dismissed her as “unreasonable” and “too emotionally involved” when she voiced concerns about the conduct of two investigations into child sexual exploitation, Operation Augusta (2004-2005) and Operation Span (2010-2012).
After returning from sick-leave, brought on by stress, she spotted an article in the staff newspaper in which GMP’s then chief constable urged officers to challenge police policies that their gut told them was wrong. She “took the scary step” of contacting him directly. But instead of meeting her, as she had suggested, she says he replied with a “bland email” promising that her concerns would be reviewed and passing her back down the command chain.
Having got nowhere, she resigned in 2012 and went public with her allegations, prompting the Mayor of Greater Manchester to commission an independent review. In January this year phase one, covering the period to 2005, concluded that Operation Augusta, had, as she always alleged, been closed down prematurely and children at risk of sexual exploitation had been failed. Ms Oliver recently launched the Maggie Oliver Foundation to support abuse survivors, and also whistleblowers who, like her, have nowhere to turn. “I asked myself: ‘Is there something obvious to others that I’m not seeing? Or is what I’m seeing wrong and making me ill?’ I felt isolated,” she says.
Isolation dogged whistleblower Aaron Westrick throughout a 14-year US legal battle concerning alleged corruption in the body armour industry that concluded, in 2018, with all the defendants ultimately making settlement payments.
As research director at Second Chance Body Armor (since liquidated), Mr Westrick urged his employer to recall a line of defective bulletproof vests containing Zylon, a material manufactured by Japanese company Toyobo. Instead he says that he was frozen out, told by an HR officer accompanied by his employer’s attorney that he was “crazy,” sacked and maligned. “If there’s one word that describes being a whistleblower, it’s loneliness,” he says. “Even your friends don’t really get it.”
Georgina Halford-Hall, chief executive of WhistleblowersUK, says the stress of fighting a bad employer is all-consuming. But, however difficult, it is important to continue doing the everyday things you enjoy. Drawing on personal experience, she recommends finding an independent mental health professional to offload on. “Don’t make every conversation with your partner and friends about your concerns, because that only isolates you further, making it likelier that you’ll end up behaving irrationally.”
From a practical standpoint, the best way for society to support victims of retaliation is to pay their legal fees, says Peter van der Velden, senior researcher at CentERdata, a Dutch research institute, and lead investigator of the study published in Psychological Reports. “What we know from research is that financial problems are a main stressor, few people have money for a lawyer after losing their job.” Something organisations should consider doing, that might strengthen their culture, is to look for opportunities to hire former whistleblowers rather than giving them a wide berth, says Marianna Fotaki, professor of business ethics at the University of Warwick Business School.
Ms Barlow says she still has “bad days”, though increasingly less so. Finding people who have had similar experiences, she says, is helping her rebuild her shattered sense of self. “It keeps your feet grounded in reality, not the manipulated version of reality that your employer wants you to believe.”
The Choreography of Retaliation
When organisations retaliate against employees, they tend to do so through a gradual piling on of pressure that pushes the individual to the point where they mistrust their own judgment, says Kathy Ahern. They become anxious, hypersensitive to threats and easy to cast as “overreacting, or simply disgruntled”. Some warning signs of what she terms a “gaslighting” pattern of retaliation include:
▪Reassuring employees that their complaints are being investigated, while repeatedly stalling.
▪Using euphemisms that diminish the person’s experience, such as “grey area” or “personality clash” for victimisation.
▪Finding fault with a highly-regarded employee who makes a complaint. ▪Praising someone for reporting misconduct, while doing nothing to prevent reprisals.
▪ Encouraging an employee who has suffered retaliation to take sick leave or undergo a psychological evaluation, under the guise of offering support.
Caroline Barlow felt little emotion when she settled with the BBC last May and withdrew her employment tribunal claims over unequal pay and constructive dismissal. Just a crushing tiredness that left her shaky and sick and so disoriented that for a while she stopped driving.
She now views her reaction as a kind of grieving, for her job and faith in an institution that she had revered. She entered the BBC’s pay review process suspecting that she was paid less than male heads of product doing jobs similar to her own, and received a 25 per cent rise, though with little explanation of how the figure was arrived at. So she used data protection law to view internal documents that indicated that even after the increase she would still be paid less. The assessors argued, without providing evidence, that she had skills she still needed to develop and the men had bigger roles.
“Publicly the BBC was saying it had introduced a transparent process. Yet, it was made very clear to me that I’d only get salary information on my peers at a final tribunal hearing by court order,” she says.
Like the journalist Carrie Gracie, who also challenged unequal pay at the BBC, Ms Barlow talks of her sense of entering a no-man’s-land of stonewalling and doublespeak, where evidence that she presented was watered down or selectively reported. She says that a strategic project described as “transforming” in a business case, for which she obtained executive committee sign-off, was trivialised as “a hygiene project” after she questioned her pay. She felt blocked by the slow progress of her grievance — she only received the outcome on her final day of employment − undermined in numerous small ways and made to feel unimportant. She became ill and was diagnosed with depression.
Lawrence Davies, director of Equal Justice Solicitors, who acted for Ms Barlow, says such experiences are common. Most employers try to quash internal complaints to avoid exposing themselves legally, should the employee sue. Yet while employers uphold only 1 per cent of grievances, he says, 65-70 per cent of complainants who persevere to an employment tribunal ultimately win, though the strain can be immense.
Kathy Ahern, a retired mental health nurse and academic, studied the psychological toll of challenging an employer after discovering that nurses who reported misconduct had strong beliefs about what it means to be a nurse. When they faced reprisals for putting patients before other loyalties they suffered overwhelming mental distress, not just because of what was done, but because the institutional reality gave the lie to everything that nursing codes of conduct teach. Another study, published in the journal Psychological Reports in 2019, found levels of anxiety and depression among whistleblowers are similar to those of cancer patients.
Ms Ahern likens retaliatory employers to domestic abusers who psychologically manipulate or “gaslight” a partner to destroy their self-confidence and credibility. Tell-tale patterns, which she documents in a review paper published in the Journal of Perinatal & Neonatal Nursing in 2018, run the gamut from maliciously finding fault, to sustained campaigns of petty slights and obstructions, to seeding rumours that the victim is unhinged.
Tom Mueller, author of Crisis of Conscience: Whistleblowing in an Age of Fraud, believes that while employers sometimes label whistleblowers as “crazy” simply to tarnish them, this may actually be how they see them. To “more negotiable” colleagues who know when to bend with the wind, they may come across as “unreasonable sticklers”, and end up friendless and questioning their own sanity.
Margaret Oliver, a former detective with Greater Manchester Police, says that senior officers dismissed her as “unreasonable” and “too emotionally involved” when she voiced concerns about the conduct of two investigations into child sexual exploitation, Operation Augusta (2004-2005) and Operation Span (2010-2012).
After returning from sick-leave, brought on by stress, she spotted an article in the staff newspaper in which GMP’s then chief constable urged officers to challenge police policies that their gut told them was wrong. She “took the scary step” of contacting him directly. But instead of meeting her, as she had suggested, she says he replied with a “bland email” promising that her concerns would be reviewed and passing her back down the command chain.
Having got nowhere, she resigned in 2012 and went public with her allegations, prompting the Mayor of Greater Manchester to commission an independent review. In January this year phase one, covering the period to 2005, concluded that Operation Augusta, had, as she always alleged, been closed down prematurely and children at risk of sexual exploitation had been failed. Ms Oliver recently launched the Maggie Oliver Foundation to support abuse survivors, and also whistleblowers who, like her, have nowhere to turn. “I asked myself: ‘Is there something obvious to others that I’m not seeing? Or is what I’m seeing wrong and making me ill?’ I felt isolated,” she says.
Isolation dogged whistleblower Aaron Westrick throughout a 14-year US legal battle concerning alleged corruption in the body armour industry that concluded, in 2018, with all the defendants ultimately making settlement payments.
As research director at Second Chance Body Armor (since liquidated), Mr Westrick urged his employer to recall a line of defective bulletproof vests containing Zylon, a material manufactured by Japanese company Toyobo. Instead he says that he was frozen out, told by an HR officer accompanied by his employer’s attorney that he was “crazy,” sacked and maligned. “If there’s one word that describes being a whistleblower, it’s loneliness,” he says. “Even your friends don’t really get it.”
Georgina Halford-Hall, chief executive of WhistleblowersUK, says the stress of fighting a bad employer is all-consuming. But, however difficult, it is important to continue doing the everyday things you enjoy. Drawing on personal experience, she recommends finding an independent mental health professional to offload on. “Don’t make every conversation with your partner and friends about your concerns, because that only isolates you further, making it likelier that you’ll end up behaving irrationally.”
From a practical standpoint, the best way for society to support victims of retaliation is to pay their legal fees, says Peter van der Velden, senior researcher at CentERdata, a Dutch research institute, and lead investigator of the study published in Psychological Reports. “What we know from research is that financial problems are a main stressor, few people have money for a lawyer after losing their job.” Something organisations should consider doing, that might strengthen their culture, is to look for opportunities to hire former whistleblowers rather than giving them a wide berth, says Marianna Fotaki, professor of business ethics at the University of Warwick Business School.
Ms Barlow says she still has “bad days”, though increasingly less so. Finding people who have had similar experiences, she says, is helping her rebuild her shattered sense of self. “It keeps your feet grounded in reality, not the manipulated version of reality that your employer wants you to believe.”
The Choreography of Retaliation
When organisations retaliate against employees, they tend to do so through a gradual piling on of pressure that pushes the individual to the point where they mistrust their own judgment, says Kathy Ahern. They become anxious, hypersensitive to threats and easy to cast as “overreacting, or simply disgruntled”. Some warning signs of what she terms a “gaslighting” pattern of retaliation include:
▪Reassuring employees that their complaints are being investigated, while repeatedly stalling.
▪Using euphemisms that diminish the person’s experience, such as “grey area” or “personality clash” for victimisation.
▪Finding fault with a highly-regarded employee who makes a complaint. ▪Praising someone for reporting misconduct, while doing nothing to prevent reprisals.
▪ Encouraging an employee who has suffered retaliation to take sick leave or undergo a psychological evaluation, under the guise of offering support.
Wednesday, 12 June 2019
Anyone who wants to be prime minister should have a course of therapy first
Our toxic political system rewards all the wrong traits and produces the worst possible leaders writes George Monbiot in The Guardian
I believe that anyone who wants to stand in a national election should receive a course of psychotherapy. Completing the course should be a qualification for office. This wouldn’t change the behaviour of psychopaths, but it might prevent some people who exercise power from imposing their own deep wounds on others. I’ve had two courses: one influenced by Freud and Donald Winnicott, the other by Paul Gilbert’s compassion-focused approach. I found them both immensely helpful. I believe almost everyone would benefit from such treatment.
The underlying problem is the system through which such people jostle. Toxic personalities thrive in toxic environments. Those who should be least trusted with power are most likely to win it. A study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that the group of psychopathic traits known as “fearless dominance” is associated with behaviours that are widely valued in leaders, such as making bold decisions and bestriding the world stage. If so, we surely value the wrong characteristics. If success within the system requires psychopathic traits, there is something wrong with the system.
In designing an effective politics, it could be useful to work backwards: to decide what kind of people we would like to see representing us, then create a system that would bring them to the fore. I want to be represented by people who are thoughtful, self-aware and collaborative. What would a system that elevated such people look like?
It would not be a purely representative democracy. This works on the principle of presumed consent: “You elected me three years ago, therefore you are presumed to have consented to the policy I’m about to implement, whether or not I mentioned it at the time.” It rewards the “strong, decisive” leaders who so often lead their nations to catastrophe. A system that tempers representative democracy with participative democracy – citizens’ assemblies, participatory budgeting, the co-creation of public policy – is more likely to reward responsive and considerate politicians. Proportional representation, which prevents governments with minority support from dominating the nation, is another potential safeguard – though no guarantee.
In rethinking politics, let us develop systems that encourage kindness, empathy and emotional intelligence. Let us ditch systems that encourage people to hide their pain by dominating others.
‘Toxic personalities thrive in toxic environments.’ John Bercow (centre) mediates during a Commons debate on the EU withdrawal bill. Photograph: Mark Duffy/AFP/Getty Images
Who in their right mind would want the job? It is almost certain to end, as Theresa May found, in failure and public execration. To seek to be prime minister today suggests either reckless confidence or an insatiable hunger for power. Perhaps we need a reverse catch-22 in British politics: anyone crazy enough to apply for this post should be disqualified from running.
A few years ago, the psychologist Michelle Roya Rad listed the characteristics of good leadership. Among them were fairness and objectivity; a desire to serve society rather than just yourself; a lack of interest in fame and attention; and resistance to the temptation to hide the truth or make impossible promises. Conversely, a paper in the Journal of Public Management and Social Policy has listed the characteristics of leaders with psychopathic, narcissistic or Machiavellian personalities. These include: a tendency to manipulate others; a preparedness to lie and deceive to achieve your ends; a lack of remorse and sensitivity; and a desire for admiration, attention, prestige and status. Which of these lists, do you think, best describes the people vying to lead the Conservative party?
In politics, almost everywhere we see what looks like the externalisation of psychic wounds or deficits. Sigmund Freud claimed that “groups take on the personality of the leader”. I think it would be more accurate to say that the private tragedies of powerful people become the public tragedies of those they dominate. For some people, it is easier to command a nation, to send thousands to their deaths in unnecessary wars, to separate children from their families and inflict terrible suffering, than to process their own trauma and pain. What we appear to see in national politics around the world is a playing out in public of deep private distress.
This could be a particularly potent force in British politics. The psychotherapist Nick Duffell has written of “wounded leaders”, who were separated from their families in early childhood when they were sent to boarding school. They develop a “survival personality”, learning to cut off their feelings and project a false self, characterised by a public display of competence and self-reliance. Beneath this persona is a profound insecurity, which might generate an insatiable need for power, prestige and attention. The result is a system that “consistently turns out people who appear much more competent than they actually are”.
The problem is not confined to these shores. Donald Trump occupies the most powerful seat on Earth, yet still he appears to seethe with envy and resentment. “If President Obama made the deals that I have made,” he claimed this week, “the corrupt media would be hailing them as incredible … With me, despite our record-setting economy and all that I have done, no credit!” No amount of wealth or power seems able to satisfy his need for affirmation and assurance.
Those who should be least trusted with power are most likely to win it
Who in their right mind would want the job? It is almost certain to end, as Theresa May found, in failure and public execration. To seek to be prime minister today suggests either reckless confidence or an insatiable hunger for power. Perhaps we need a reverse catch-22 in British politics: anyone crazy enough to apply for this post should be disqualified from running.
A few years ago, the psychologist Michelle Roya Rad listed the characteristics of good leadership. Among them were fairness and objectivity; a desire to serve society rather than just yourself; a lack of interest in fame and attention; and resistance to the temptation to hide the truth or make impossible promises. Conversely, a paper in the Journal of Public Management and Social Policy has listed the characteristics of leaders with psychopathic, narcissistic or Machiavellian personalities. These include: a tendency to manipulate others; a preparedness to lie and deceive to achieve your ends; a lack of remorse and sensitivity; and a desire for admiration, attention, prestige and status. Which of these lists, do you think, best describes the people vying to lead the Conservative party?
In politics, almost everywhere we see what looks like the externalisation of psychic wounds or deficits. Sigmund Freud claimed that “groups take on the personality of the leader”. I think it would be more accurate to say that the private tragedies of powerful people become the public tragedies of those they dominate. For some people, it is easier to command a nation, to send thousands to their deaths in unnecessary wars, to separate children from their families and inflict terrible suffering, than to process their own trauma and pain. What we appear to see in national politics around the world is a playing out in public of deep private distress.
This could be a particularly potent force in British politics. The psychotherapist Nick Duffell has written of “wounded leaders”, who were separated from their families in early childhood when they were sent to boarding school. They develop a “survival personality”, learning to cut off their feelings and project a false self, characterised by a public display of competence and self-reliance. Beneath this persona is a profound insecurity, which might generate an insatiable need for power, prestige and attention. The result is a system that “consistently turns out people who appear much more competent than they actually are”.
The problem is not confined to these shores. Donald Trump occupies the most powerful seat on Earth, yet still he appears to seethe with envy and resentment. “If President Obama made the deals that I have made,” he claimed this week, “the corrupt media would be hailing them as incredible … With me, despite our record-setting economy and all that I have done, no credit!” No amount of wealth or power seems able to satisfy his need for affirmation and assurance.
Those who should be least trusted with power are most likely to win it
I believe that anyone who wants to stand in a national election should receive a course of psychotherapy. Completing the course should be a qualification for office. This wouldn’t change the behaviour of psychopaths, but it might prevent some people who exercise power from imposing their own deep wounds on others. I’ve had two courses: one influenced by Freud and Donald Winnicott, the other by Paul Gilbert’s compassion-focused approach. I found them both immensely helpful. I believe almost everyone would benefit from such treatment.
The underlying problem is the system through which such people jostle. Toxic personalities thrive in toxic environments. Those who should be least trusted with power are most likely to win it. A study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that the group of psychopathic traits known as “fearless dominance” is associated with behaviours that are widely valued in leaders, such as making bold decisions and bestriding the world stage. If so, we surely value the wrong characteristics. If success within the system requires psychopathic traits, there is something wrong with the system.
In designing an effective politics, it could be useful to work backwards: to decide what kind of people we would like to see representing us, then create a system that would bring them to the fore. I want to be represented by people who are thoughtful, self-aware and collaborative. What would a system that elevated such people look like?
It would not be a purely representative democracy. This works on the principle of presumed consent: “You elected me three years ago, therefore you are presumed to have consented to the policy I’m about to implement, whether or not I mentioned it at the time.” It rewards the “strong, decisive” leaders who so often lead their nations to catastrophe. A system that tempers representative democracy with participative democracy – citizens’ assemblies, participatory budgeting, the co-creation of public policy – is more likely to reward responsive and considerate politicians. Proportional representation, which prevents governments with minority support from dominating the nation, is another potential safeguard – though no guarantee.
In rethinking politics, let us develop systems that encourage kindness, empathy and emotional intelligence. Let us ditch systems that encourage people to hide their pain by dominating others.
Wednesday, 17 April 2019
'Calling bullshit': the college class on how not to be duped by the news
Professors at the University of Washington say the course provides the most useful skill college can offer writes James McWilliams in The Guardian
Academia being what it is (a place where everything is contested), there has been considerable debate over what exactly qualifies as bullshit. Most of that debate centers on the question of intention. Is bullshit considered bullshit if the deception was unintentionally presented? West and Bergstrom think that it is. They write, “Whether or not that usage is appropriate, we feel that the verb phrase calling bullshit definitely applies to falsehoods irrespective of the intentions of the author or speaker.”
The reason for the class’s existence comes down to a simple and somewhat alarming reality: even the most educated and savvy consumer of information is easily misled in today’s complex information ecosystem. Calling Bullshit is not dedicated to teaching students that Fox News promotes “fake news” or that National Enquirer headlines are fallacious. Instead, the class operates under the assumption that the structures through which today’s endless information comes to the consumer – algorithms, data graphics, info analytics, peer-reviewed publications – are in many ways as full of bullshit as the fake news we easily recognize as bogus. One scientist that West and Bergstrom cite in their syllabus goes so far as to say that, due to the fact that journals are prone to only publish positive results, “most published scientific results are probably false”.
Why smart people are more likely to believe fake news
A case in point is a 2016 article called Automated Inferences on Criminality Using Face Images. In it, the authors present an algorithm that can supposedly teach a machine to determine criminality with 90% accuracy based solely on a person’s headshot. Their core assumption is that, unlike humans, a machine is relatively free of emotion and bias. West and Bergstrom call bullshit, sending students to explore the sample of photos used to represent criminals in the experiment: all them are of convictedcriminals. The professors claim that “it seems less plausible to us that facial features are associated with criminal tendencies than it is that they are correlated with juries’ decisions to convict”. Conclusion: the algorithm is more correlated with facial characteristics that make a person convictable than a set of criminal inclinations.
By teaching ways to find misinformation in the venues many of us consider pristine realms of expertise – peer-reviewed journals such as Nature, reports by the National Institutes of Health, TED Talks – West and Bergstrom highlight the ultimate paradox of the information age: more and more knowledge is making us less and less reasonable.
‘Even the most educated and savvy consumer of information is easily misled in today’s complex information ecosystem.’ Photograph: Ritchie B Tongo/EPA
As we gather more data for mathematical models to better analyze, for example, the shrinking gap between elite male and female runners, we remain as prone as ever to misusing that data to achieve erroneous results. West and Bergstrom cite a 2004 Nature article in which the authors use linear regression to trace the closing gap between men and women’s running times, concluding that women will outpace men in the year 2156. To take down this kind of bullshit, the professors introduce the idea of reductio ad absurdum, which in this case would make the year 2636 far more interesting than 2156, as it’s then that, if the Nature study is right, “times of less than zero will be recorded”.
West and Bergstrom first offered the class in January of 2017 with modest expectations. “We would have been happy if a couple of our colleagues and friends would have said: ‘Cool idea, we should pass that along,’” West says. But within months the course had made national – and then international – news. “We have never guessed that it would get this kind of a response.”
To say that a nerve has been touched would be an understatement. After posting their website online, West and Bergstrom were swamped with emails and media requests from all over the world. Glowing press reports of the class’s ambitions contributed to the growing sense that something seismic in higher education was under way.
The professors were especially pleased by the interest shown among other universities – and even high schools – in modeling a course after their syllabus. Soon the Knight Foundation provided $50,000 for West and Bergstrom to help high school kids, librarians, journalists, and the general public become competent bullshit detectors.
In 1945, when Harvard University defined for the nation the role of higher education with its report on General Education in a Free Society, it stressed as its main goal “the continuance of the liberal and humane tradition”. The assumption, which now seems quaint, was that knowledge, which came from information, was the basis of character development.
Calling Bullshit, which provides the tools for every American (the lectures and readings are all online) to disrupt the foundation of even the most trusted source of information, reveals how profoundly difficult endless information has made the task of achieving that humane tradition. How the necessary shift from conveying wisdom to debunking it will play out is anyone’s guess, but if West and Bergstrom get their way – and it seems that they are – it will mean calling a lot of bullshit before we get to the business of becoming better citizens.
‘Our world is saturated with bullshit,’ the professors say. ‘This is our attempt to fight back.’ Photograph: Leland Bobbe/Getty Images/Image Source
To prepare themselves for future success in the American workforce, today’s college students are increasingly choosing courses in business, biomedical science, engineering, computer science, and various health-related disciplines.
These classes are bound to help undergraduates capitalize on the “college payoff”, but chances are good that none of them comes with a promise of this magnitude: “We will be astonished if these skills [learned in this course] do not turn out to be the most useful and most broadly applicable of those that you acquire during the course of your college education.”
Sound like bullshit? If so, there’s no better way to detect it than to consider the class that makes the claim. Calling Bullshit: Data Reasoning in a Digital World, designed and co-taught by the University of Washington professors Jevin West and Carl Bergstrom, begins with a premise so obvious we barely lend it the attention it deserves: “Our world is saturated with bullshit.” And so, every week for 12 weeks, the professors expose “one specific facet of bullshit”, doing so in the explicit spirit of resistance. “This is,” they explain, “our attempt to fight back.”
The problem of bullshit transcends political bounds, the class teaches. The proliferation of bullshit, according to West and Bergstrom, is “not a matter of left- or rightwing ideology; both sides of the aisle have proven themselves facile at creating and spreading bullshit. Rather (and at the risk of grandiose language) adequate bullshit detection strikes us as essential to the survival of liberal democracy.” They make it a point to stress that they began to work on the syllabus for this class back in 2015 – it’s not, they clarify, “a swipe at the Trump administration”.
There has been considerable debate over what exactly qualifies as bullshit
To prepare themselves for future success in the American workforce, today’s college students are increasingly choosing courses in business, biomedical science, engineering, computer science, and various health-related disciplines.
These classes are bound to help undergraduates capitalize on the “college payoff”, but chances are good that none of them comes with a promise of this magnitude: “We will be astonished if these skills [learned in this course] do not turn out to be the most useful and most broadly applicable of those that you acquire during the course of your college education.”
Sound like bullshit? If so, there’s no better way to detect it than to consider the class that makes the claim. Calling Bullshit: Data Reasoning in a Digital World, designed and co-taught by the University of Washington professors Jevin West and Carl Bergstrom, begins with a premise so obvious we barely lend it the attention it deserves: “Our world is saturated with bullshit.” And so, every week for 12 weeks, the professors expose “one specific facet of bullshit”, doing so in the explicit spirit of resistance. “This is,” they explain, “our attempt to fight back.”
The problem of bullshit transcends political bounds, the class teaches. The proliferation of bullshit, according to West and Bergstrom, is “not a matter of left- or rightwing ideology; both sides of the aisle have proven themselves facile at creating and spreading bullshit. Rather (and at the risk of grandiose language) adequate bullshit detection strikes us as essential to the survival of liberal democracy.” They make it a point to stress that they began to work on the syllabus for this class back in 2015 – it’s not, they clarify, “a swipe at the Trump administration”.
There has been considerable debate over what exactly qualifies as bullshit
Academia being what it is (a place where everything is contested), there has been considerable debate over what exactly qualifies as bullshit. Most of that debate centers on the question of intention. Is bullshit considered bullshit if the deception was unintentionally presented? West and Bergstrom think that it is. They write, “Whether or not that usage is appropriate, we feel that the verb phrase calling bullshit definitely applies to falsehoods irrespective of the intentions of the author or speaker.”
The reason for the class’s existence comes down to a simple and somewhat alarming reality: even the most educated and savvy consumer of information is easily misled in today’s complex information ecosystem. Calling Bullshit is not dedicated to teaching students that Fox News promotes “fake news” or that National Enquirer headlines are fallacious. Instead, the class operates under the assumption that the structures through which today’s endless information comes to the consumer – algorithms, data graphics, info analytics, peer-reviewed publications – are in many ways as full of bullshit as the fake news we easily recognize as bogus. One scientist that West and Bergstrom cite in their syllabus goes so far as to say that, due to the fact that journals are prone to only publish positive results, “most published scientific results are probably false”.
Why smart people are more likely to believe fake news
A case in point is a 2016 article called Automated Inferences on Criminality Using Face Images. In it, the authors present an algorithm that can supposedly teach a machine to determine criminality with 90% accuracy based solely on a person’s headshot. Their core assumption is that, unlike humans, a machine is relatively free of emotion and bias. West and Bergstrom call bullshit, sending students to explore the sample of photos used to represent criminals in the experiment: all them are of convictedcriminals. The professors claim that “it seems less plausible to us that facial features are associated with criminal tendencies than it is that they are correlated with juries’ decisions to convict”. Conclusion: the algorithm is more correlated with facial characteristics that make a person convictable than a set of criminal inclinations.
By teaching ways to find misinformation in the venues many of us consider pristine realms of expertise – peer-reviewed journals such as Nature, reports by the National Institutes of Health, TED Talks – West and Bergstrom highlight the ultimate paradox of the information age: more and more knowledge is making us less and less reasonable.
‘Even the most educated and savvy consumer of information is easily misled in today’s complex information ecosystem.’ Photograph: Ritchie B Tongo/EPA
As we gather more data for mathematical models to better analyze, for example, the shrinking gap between elite male and female runners, we remain as prone as ever to misusing that data to achieve erroneous results. West and Bergstrom cite a 2004 Nature article in which the authors use linear regression to trace the closing gap between men and women’s running times, concluding that women will outpace men in the year 2156. To take down this kind of bullshit, the professors introduce the idea of reductio ad absurdum, which in this case would make the year 2636 far more interesting than 2156, as it’s then that, if the Nature study is right, “times of less than zero will be recorded”.
West and Bergstrom first offered the class in January of 2017 with modest expectations. “We would have been happy if a couple of our colleagues and friends would have said: ‘Cool idea, we should pass that along,’” West says. But within months the course had made national – and then international – news. “We have never guessed that it would get this kind of a response.”
To say that a nerve has been touched would be an understatement. After posting their website online, West and Bergstrom were swamped with emails and media requests from all over the world. Glowing press reports of the class’s ambitions contributed to the growing sense that something seismic in higher education was under way.
The professors were especially pleased by the interest shown among other universities – and even high schools – in modeling a course after their syllabus. Soon the Knight Foundation provided $50,000 for West and Bergstrom to help high school kids, librarians, journalists, and the general public become competent bullshit detectors.
In 1945, when Harvard University defined for the nation the role of higher education with its report on General Education in a Free Society, it stressed as its main goal “the continuance of the liberal and humane tradition”. The assumption, which now seems quaint, was that knowledge, which came from information, was the basis of character development.
Calling Bullshit, which provides the tools for every American (the lectures and readings are all online) to disrupt the foundation of even the most trusted source of information, reveals how profoundly difficult endless information has made the task of achieving that humane tradition. How the necessary shift from conveying wisdom to debunking it will play out is anyone’s guess, but if West and Bergstrom get their way – and it seems that they are – it will mean calling a lot of bullshit before we get to the business of becoming better citizens.
Saturday, 15 September 2018
The myth of freedom
Yuval Noah Harari in The Guardian
Should scholars serve the truth, even at the cost of social harmony? Should you expose a fiction even if that fiction sustains the social order? In writing my latest book, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, I had to struggle with this dilemma with regard to liberalism.
On the one hand, I believe that the liberal story is flawed, that it does not tell the truth about humanity, and that in order to survive and flourish in the 21st century we need to go beyond it. On the other hand, at present the liberal story is still fundamental to the functioning of the global order. What’s more, liberalism is now attacked by religious and nationalist fanatics who believe in nostalgic fantasies that are far more dangerous and harmful.
So should I speak my mind openly, risking that my words could be taken out of context and used by demagogues and autocrats to further attack the liberal order? Or should I censor myself? It is a mark of illiberal regimes that they make free speech more difficult even outside their borders. Due to the spread of such regimes, it is becoming increasingly dangerous to think critically about the future of our species.
I eventually chose free discussion over self-censorship, thanks to my belief both in the strength of liberal democracy and in the necessity to revamp it. Liberalism’s great advantage over other ideologies is that it is flexible and undogmatic. It can sustain criticism better than any other social order. Indeed, it is the only social order that allows people to question even its own foundations. Liberalism has already survived three big crises – the first world war, the fascist challenge in the 1930s, and the communist challenge in the 1950s-70s. If you think liberalism is in trouble now, just remember how much worse things were in 1918, 1938 or 1968.
The main challenge liberalism faces today comes not from fascism or communism but from the laboratories
In 1968, liberal democracies seemed to be an endangered species, and even within their own borders they were rocked by riots, assassinations, terrorist attacks and fierce ideological battles. If you happened to be amid the riots in Washington on the day after Martin Luther King was assassinated, or in Paris in May 1968, or at the Democratic party’s convention in Chicago in August 1968, you might well have thought that the end was near. While Washington, Paris and Chicago were descending into chaos, Moscow and Leningrad were tranquil, and the Soviet system seemed destined to endure for ever. Yet 20 years later it was the Soviet system that collapsed. The clashes of the 1960s strengthened liberal democracy, while the stifling climate in the Soviet bloc presaged its demise.
So we hope liberalism can reinvent itself yet again. But the main challenge it faces today comes not from fascism or communism, and not even from the demagogues and autocrats that are spreading everywhere like frogs after the rains. This time the main challenge emerges from the laboratories.
Liberalism is founded on the belief in human liberty. Unlike rats and monkeys, human beings are supposed to have “free will”. This is what makes human feelings and human choices the ultimate moral and political authority in the world. Liberalism tells us that the voter knows best, that the customer is always right, and that we should think for ourselves and follow our hearts.
¶
Unfortunately, “free will” isn’t a scientific reality. It is a myth inherited from Christian theology. Theologians developed the idea of “free will” to explain why God is right to punish sinners for their bad choices and reward saints for their good choices. If our choices aren’t made freely, why should God punish or reward us for them? According to the theologians, it is reasonable for God to do so, because our choices reflect the free will of our eternal souls, which are independent of all physical and biological constraints.
This myth has little to do with what science now teaches us about Homo sapiens and other animals. Humans certainly have a will – but it isn’t free. You cannot decide what desires you have. You don’t decide to be introvert or extrovert, easy-going or anxious, gay or straight. Humans make choices – but they are never independent choices. Every choice depends on a lot of biological, social and personal conditions that you cannot determine for yourself. I can choose what to eat, whom to marry and whom to vote for, but these choices are determined in part by my genes, my biochemistry, my gender, my family background, my national culture, etc – and I didn’t choose which genes or family to have.
Of course, this is hardly new advice. From ancient times, sages and saints repeatedly advised people to “know thyself”. Yet in the days of Socrates, the Buddha and Confucius, you didn’t have real competition. If you neglected to know yourself, you were still a black box to the rest of humanity. In contrast, you now have competition. As you read these lines, governments and corporations are striving to hack you. If they get to know you better than you know yourself, they can then sell you anything they want – be it a product or a politician.
It is particularly important to get to know your weaknesses. They are the main tools of those who try to hack you. Computers are hacked through pre-existing faulty code lines. Humans are hacked through pre-existing fears, hatreds, biases and cravings. Hackers cannot create fear or hatred out of nothing. But when they discover what people already fear and hate it is easy to push the relevant emotional buttons and provoke even greater fury.
If people cannot get to know themselves by their own efforts, perhaps the same technology the hackers use can be turned around and serve to protect us. Just as your computer has an antivirus program that screens for malware, maybe we need an antivirus for the brain. Your AI sidekick will learn by experience that you have a particular weakness – whether for funny cat videos or for infuriating Trump stories – and would block them on your behalf.
You feel that you clicked on these headlines out of your free will, but in fact you have been hacked. Photograph: Getty images
But all this is really just a side issue. If humans are hackable animals, and if our choices and opinions don’t reflect our free will, what should the point of politics be? For 300 years, liberal ideals inspired a political project that aimed to give as many individuals as possible the ability to pursue their dreams and fulfil their desires. We are now closer than ever to realising this aim – but we are also closer than ever to realising that this has all been based on an illusion. The very same technologies that we have invented to help individuals pursue their dreams also make it possible to re-engineer those dreams. So how can I trust any of my dreams?
From one perspective, this discovery gives humans an entirely new kind of freedom. Previously, we identified very strongly with our desires, and sought the freedom to realise them. Whenever any thought appeared in the mind, we rushed to do its bidding. We spent our days running around like crazy, carried by a furious rollercoaster of thoughts, feelings and desires, which we mistakenly believed represented our free will. What happens if we stop identifying with this rollercoaster? What happens when we carefully observe the next thought that pops up in our mind and ask: “Where did that come from?”
For starters, realising that our thoughts and desires don’t reflect our free will can help us become less obsessive about them. If I see myself as an entirely free agent, choosing my desires in complete independence from the world, it creates a barrier between me and all other entities. I don’t really need any of those other entities – I am independent. It simultaneously bestows enormous importance on my every whim – after all, I chose this particular desire out of all possible desires in the universe. Once we give so much importance to our desires, we naturally try to control and shape the whole world according to them. We wage wars, cut down forests and unbalance the entire ecosystem in pursuit of our whims. But if we understood that our desires are not the outcome of free choice, we would hopefully be less preoccupied with them, and would also feel more connected to the rest of the world.
If we understood that our desires are not the outcome of free choice, we would hopefully be less preoccupied with them
People sometimes imagine that if we renounce our belief in “free will”, we will become completely apathetic, and just curl up in some corner and starve to death. In fact, renouncing this illusion can have two opposite effects: first, it can create a far stronger link with the rest of the world, and make you more attentive to your environment and to the needs and wishes of others. It is like when you have a conversation with someone. If you focus on what you want to say, you hardly really listen. You just wait for the opportunity to give the other person a piece of your mind. But when you put your own thoughts aside, you can suddenly hear other people.
Second, renouncing the myth of free will can kindle a profound curiosity. If you strongly identify with the thoughts and desires that emerge in your mind, you don’t need to make much effort to get to know yourself. You think you already know exactly who you are. But once you realise “Hi, this isn’t me. This is just some changing biochemical phenomenon!” then you also realise you have no idea who – or what – you actually are. This can be the beginning of the most exciting journey of discovery any human can undertake.
¶
There is nothing new about doubting free will or about exploring the true nature of humanity. We humans have had this discussion a thousand times before. But we never had the technology before. And the technology changes everything. Ancient problems of philosophy are now becoming practical problems of engineering and politics. And while philosophers are very patient people – they can argue about something inconclusively for 3,000 years – engineers are far less patient. Politicians are the least patient of all.
How does liberal democracy function in an era when governments and corporations can hack humans? What’s left of the beliefs that “the voter knows best” and “the customer is always right”? How do you live when you realise that you are a hackable animal, that your heart might be a government agent, that your amygdala might be working for Putin, and that the next thought that emerges in your mind might well be the result of some algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself? These are the most interesting questions humanity now faces.
Unfortunately, these are not the questions most humans ask. Instead of exploring what awaits us beyond the illusion of “free will”, people all over the world are now retreating to find shelter with even older illusions. Instead of confronting the challenge of AI and bioengineering, many are turning to religious and nationalist fantasies that are even less in touch with the scientific realities of our time than liberalism. Instead of fresh political models, what’s on offer are repackaged leftovers from the 20th century or even the middle ages.
When you try to engage with these nostalgic fantasies, you find yourself debating such thingsas the veracity of the Bible and the sanctity of the nation (especially if you happen, like me, to live in a place like Israel). As a scholar, this is a disappointment. Arguing about the Bible was hot stuff in the age of Voltaire, and debating the merits of nationalism was cutting-edge philosophy a century ago – but in 2018 it seems a terrible waste of time. AI and bioengineering are about to change the course of evolution itself, and we have just a few decades to figure out what to do with them. I don’t know where the answers will come from, but they are definitely not coming from a collection of stories written thousands of years ago.
So what to do? We need to fight on two fronts simultaneously. We should defend liberal democracy, not only because it has proved to be a more benign form of government than any of its alternatives, but also because it places the fewest limitations on debating the future of humanity. At the same time, we need to question the traditional assumptions of liberalism, and develop a new political project that is better in line with the scientific realities and technological powers of the 21st century.
Greek mythology tells that Zeus and Poseidon, two of the greatest gods, competed for the hand of the goddess Thetis. But when they heard the prophecy that Thetis would bear a son more powerful than his father, both withdrew in alarm. Since gods plan on sticking around for ever, they don’t want a more powerful offspring to compete with them. So Thetis married a mortal, King Peleus, and gave birth to Achilles. Mortals do like their children to outshine them. This myth might teach us something important. Autocrats who plan to rule in perpetuity don’t like to encourage the birth of ideas that might displace them. But liberal democracies inspire the creation of new visions, even at the price of questioning their own foundations.
Should scholars serve the truth, even at the cost of social harmony? Should you expose a fiction even if that fiction sustains the social order? In writing my latest book, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, I had to struggle with this dilemma with regard to liberalism.
On the one hand, I believe that the liberal story is flawed, that it does not tell the truth about humanity, and that in order to survive and flourish in the 21st century we need to go beyond it. On the other hand, at present the liberal story is still fundamental to the functioning of the global order. What’s more, liberalism is now attacked by religious and nationalist fanatics who believe in nostalgic fantasies that are far more dangerous and harmful.
So should I speak my mind openly, risking that my words could be taken out of context and used by demagogues and autocrats to further attack the liberal order? Or should I censor myself? It is a mark of illiberal regimes that they make free speech more difficult even outside their borders. Due to the spread of such regimes, it is becoming increasingly dangerous to think critically about the future of our species.
I eventually chose free discussion over self-censorship, thanks to my belief both in the strength of liberal democracy and in the necessity to revamp it. Liberalism’s great advantage over other ideologies is that it is flexible and undogmatic. It can sustain criticism better than any other social order. Indeed, it is the only social order that allows people to question even its own foundations. Liberalism has already survived three big crises – the first world war, the fascist challenge in the 1930s, and the communist challenge in the 1950s-70s. If you think liberalism is in trouble now, just remember how much worse things were in 1918, 1938 or 1968.
The main challenge liberalism faces today comes not from fascism or communism but from the laboratories
In 1968, liberal democracies seemed to be an endangered species, and even within their own borders they were rocked by riots, assassinations, terrorist attacks and fierce ideological battles. If you happened to be amid the riots in Washington on the day after Martin Luther King was assassinated, or in Paris in May 1968, or at the Democratic party’s convention in Chicago in August 1968, you might well have thought that the end was near. While Washington, Paris and Chicago were descending into chaos, Moscow and Leningrad were tranquil, and the Soviet system seemed destined to endure for ever. Yet 20 years later it was the Soviet system that collapsed. The clashes of the 1960s strengthened liberal democracy, while the stifling climate in the Soviet bloc presaged its demise.
So we hope liberalism can reinvent itself yet again. But the main challenge it faces today comes not from fascism or communism, and not even from the demagogues and autocrats that are spreading everywhere like frogs after the rains. This time the main challenge emerges from the laboratories.
Liberalism is founded on the belief in human liberty. Unlike rats and monkeys, human beings are supposed to have “free will”. This is what makes human feelings and human choices the ultimate moral and political authority in the world. Liberalism tells us that the voter knows best, that the customer is always right, and that we should think for ourselves and follow our hearts.
¶
Unfortunately, “free will” isn’t a scientific reality. It is a myth inherited from Christian theology. Theologians developed the idea of “free will” to explain why God is right to punish sinners for their bad choices and reward saints for their good choices. If our choices aren’t made freely, why should God punish or reward us for them? According to the theologians, it is reasonable for God to do so, because our choices reflect the free will of our eternal souls, which are independent of all physical and biological constraints.
This myth has little to do with what science now teaches us about Homo sapiens and other animals. Humans certainly have a will – but it isn’t free. You cannot decide what desires you have. You don’t decide to be introvert or extrovert, easy-going or anxious, gay or straight. Humans make choices – but they are never independent choices. Every choice depends on a lot of biological, social and personal conditions that you cannot determine for yourself. I can choose what to eat, whom to marry and whom to vote for, but these choices are determined in part by my genes, my biochemistry, my gender, my family background, my national culture, etc – and I didn’t choose which genes or family to have.
Hacked … biometric sensors could allow corporations direct access to your inner world. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo
This is not abstract theory. You can witness this easily. Just observe the next thought that pops up in your mind. Where did it come from? Did you freely choose to think it? Obviously not. If you carefully observe your own mind, you come to realise that you have little control of what’s going on there, and you are not choosing freely what to think, what to feel, and what to want.
Though “free will” was always a myth, in previous centuries it was a helpful one. It emboldened people who had to fight against the Inquisition, the divine right of kings, the KGB and the KKK. The myth also carried few costs. In 1776 or 1945 there was relatively little harm in believing that your feelings and choices were the product of some “free will” rather than the result of biochemistry and neurology.
But now the belief in “free will” suddenly becomes dangerous. If governments and corporations succeed in hacking the human animal, the easiest people to manipulate will be those who believe in free will.
In order to successfully hack humans, you need two things: a good understanding of biology, and a lot of computing power. The Inquisition and the KGB lacked this knowledge and power. But soon, corporations and governments might have both, and once they can hack you, they can not only predict your choices, but also reengineer your feelings. To do so, corporations and governments will not need to know you perfectly. That is impossible. They will just have to know you a little better than you know yourself. And that is not impossible, because most people don’t know themselves very well.
If you believe in the traditional liberal story, you will be tempted simply to dismiss this challenge. “No, it will never happen. Nobody will ever manage to hack the human spirit, because there is something there that goes far beyond genes, neurons and algorithms. Nobody could successfully predict and manipulate my choices, because my choices reflect my free will.” Unfortunately, dismissing the challenge won’t make it go away. It will just make you more vulnerable to it.
It starts with simple things. As you surf the internet, a headline catches your eye: “Immigrant gang rapes local women”. You click on it. At exactly the same moment, your neighbour is surfing the internet too, and a different headline catches her eye: “Trump prepares nuclear strike on Iran”. She clicks on it. Both headlines are fake news stories, generated perhaps by Russian trolls, or by a website keen on increasing traffic to boost its ad revenues. Both you and your neighbour feel that you clicked on these headlines out of your free will. But in fact you have been hacked.
If governments succeed in hacking the human animal, the easiest people to manipulate will be those who believe in free will
Propaganda and manipulation are nothing new, of course. But whereas in the past they worked like carpet bombing, now they are becoming precision-guided munitions. When Hitler gave a speech on the radio, he aimed at the lowest common denominator, because he couldn’t tailor his message to the unique weaknesses of individual brains. Now it has become possible to do exactly that. An algorithm can tell that you already have a bias against immigrants, while your neighbour already dislikes Trump, which is why you see one headline while your neighbour sees an altogether different one. In recent years some of the smartest people in the world have worked on hacking the human brain in order to make you click on ads and sell you stuff. Now these methods are being used to sell you politicians and ideologies, too.
And this is just the beginning. At present, the hackers rely on analysing signals and actions in the outside world: the products you buy, the places you visit, the words you search for online. Yet within a few years biometric sensors could give hackers direct access to your inner world, and they could observe what’s going on inside your heart. Not the metaphorical heart beloved by liberal fantasies, but rather the muscular pump that regulates your blood pressure and much of your brain activity. The hackers could then correlate your heart rate with your credit card data, and your blood pressure with your search history. What would the Inquisition and the KGB have done with biometric bracelets that constantly monitor your moods and affections? Stay tuned.
Liberalism has developed an impressive arsenal of arguments and institutions to defend individual freedoms against external attacks from oppressive governments and bigoted religions, but it is unprepared for a situation when individual freedom is subverted from within, and when the very concepts of “individual” and “freedom” no longer make much sense. In order to survive and prosper in the 21st century, we need to leave behind the naive view of humans as free individuals – a view inherited from Christian theology as much as from the modern Enlightenment – and come to terms with what humans really are: hackable animals. We need to know ourselves better.
This is not abstract theory. You can witness this easily. Just observe the next thought that pops up in your mind. Where did it come from? Did you freely choose to think it? Obviously not. If you carefully observe your own mind, you come to realise that you have little control of what’s going on there, and you are not choosing freely what to think, what to feel, and what to want.
Though “free will” was always a myth, in previous centuries it was a helpful one. It emboldened people who had to fight against the Inquisition, the divine right of kings, the KGB and the KKK. The myth also carried few costs. In 1776 or 1945 there was relatively little harm in believing that your feelings and choices were the product of some “free will” rather than the result of biochemistry and neurology.
But now the belief in “free will” suddenly becomes dangerous. If governments and corporations succeed in hacking the human animal, the easiest people to manipulate will be those who believe in free will.
In order to successfully hack humans, you need two things: a good understanding of biology, and a lot of computing power. The Inquisition and the KGB lacked this knowledge and power. But soon, corporations and governments might have both, and once they can hack you, they can not only predict your choices, but also reengineer your feelings. To do so, corporations and governments will not need to know you perfectly. That is impossible. They will just have to know you a little better than you know yourself. And that is not impossible, because most people don’t know themselves very well.
If you believe in the traditional liberal story, you will be tempted simply to dismiss this challenge. “No, it will never happen. Nobody will ever manage to hack the human spirit, because there is something there that goes far beyond genes, neurons and algorithms. Nobody could successfully predict and manipulate my choices, because my choices reflect my free will.” Unfortunately, dismissing the challenge won’t make it go away. It will just make you more vulnerable to it.
It starts with simple things. As you surf the internet, a headline catches your eye: “Immigrant gang rapes local women”. You click on it. At exactly the same moment, your neighbour is surfing the internet too, and a different headline catches her eye: “Trump prepares nuclear strike on Iran”. She clicks on it. Both headlines are fake news stories, generated perhaps by Russian trolls, or by a website keen on increasing traffic to boost its ad revenues. Both you and your neighbour feel that you clicked on these headlines out of your free will. But in fact you have been hacked.
If governments succeed in hacking the human animal, the easiest people to manipulate will be those who believe in free will
Propaganda and manipulation are nothing new, of course. But whereas in the past they worked like carpet bombing, now they are becoming precision-guided munitions. When Hitler gave a speech on the radio, he aimed at the lowest common denominator, because he couldn’t tailor his message to the unique weaknesses of individual brains. Now it has become possible to do exactly that. An algorithm can tell that you already have a bias against immigrants, while your neighbour already dislikes Trump, which is why you see one headline while your neighbour sees an altogether different one. In recent years some of the smartest people in the world have worked on hacking the human brain in order to make you click on ads and sell you stuff. Now these methods are being used to sell you politicians and ideologies, too.
And this is just the beginning. At present, the hackers rely on analysing signals and actions in the outside world: the products you buy, the places you visit, the words you search for online. Yet within a few years biometric sensors could give hackers direct access to your inner world, and they could observe what’s going on inside your heart. Not the metaphorical heart beloved by liberal fantasies, but rather the muscular pump that regulates your blood pressure and much of your brain activity. The hackers could then correlate your heart rate with your credit card data, and your blood pressure with your search history. What would the Inquisition and the KGB have done with biometric bracelets that constantly monitor your moods and affections? Stay tuned.
Liberalism has developed an impressive arsenal of arguments and institutions to defend individual freedoms against external attacks from oppressive governments and bigoted religions, but it is unprepared for a situation when individual freedom is subverted from within, and when the very concepts of “individual” and “freedom” no longer make much sense. In order to survive and prosper in the 21st century, we need to leave behind the naive view of humans as free individuals – a view inherited from Christian theology as much as from the modern Enlightenment – and come to terms with what humans really are: hackable animals. We need to know ourselves better.
Of course, this is hardly new advice. From ancient times, sages and saints repeatedly advised people to “know thyself”. Yet in the days of Socrates, the Buddha and Confucius, you didn’t have real competition. If you neglected to know yourself, you were still a black box to the rest of humanity. In contrast, you now have competition. As you read these lines, governments and corporations are striving to hack you. If they get to know you better than you know yourself, they can then sell you anything they want – be it a product or a politician.
It is particularly important to get to know your weaknesses. They are the main tools of those who try to hack you. Computers are hacked through pre-existing faulty code lines. Humans are hacked through pre-existing fears, hatreds, biases and cravings. Hackers cannot create fear or hatred out of nothing. But when they discover what people already fear and hate it is easy to push the relevant emotional buttons and provoke even greater fury.
If people cannot get to know themselves by their own efforts, perhaps the same technology the hackers use can be turned around and serve to protect us. Just as your computer has an antivirus program that screens for malware, maybe we need an antivirus for the brain. Your AI sidekick will learn by experience that you have a particular weakness – whether for funny cat videos or for infuriating Trump stories – and would block them on your behalf.
You feel that you clicked on these headlines out of your free will, but in fact you have been hacked. Photograph: Getty images
But all this is really just a side issue. If humans are hackable animals, and if our choices and opinions don’t reflect our free will, what should the point of politics be? For 300 years, liberal ideals inspired a political project that aimed to give as many individuals as possible the ability to pursue their dreams and fulfil their desires. We are now closer than ever to realising this aim – but we are also closer than ever to realising that this has all been based on an illusion. The very same technologies that we have invented to help individuals pursue their dreams also make it possible to re-engineer those dreams. So how can I trust any of my dreams?
From one perspective, this discovery gives humans an entirely new kind of freedom. Previously, we identified very strongly with our desires, and sought the freedom to realise them. Whenever any thought appeared in the mind, we rushed to do its bidding. We spent our days running around like crazy, carried by a furious rollercoaster of thoughts, feelings and desires, which we mistakenly believed represented our free will. What happens if we stop identifying with this rollercoaster? What happens when we carefully observe the next thought that pops up in our mind and ask: “Where did that come from?”
For starters, realising that our thoughts and desires don’t reflect our free will can help us become less obsessive about them. If I see myself as an entirely free agent, choosing my desires in complete independence from the world, it creates a barrier between me and all other entities. I don’t really need any of those other entities – I am independent. It simultaneously bestows enormous importance on my every whim – after all, I chose this particular desire out of all possible desires in the universe. Once we give so much importance to our desires, we naturally try to control and shape the whole world according to them. We wage wars, cut down forests and unbalance the entire ecosystem in pursuit of our whims. But if we understood that our desires are not the outcome of free choice, we would hopefully be less preoccupied with them, and would also feel more connected to the rest of the world.
If we understood that our desires are not the outcome of free choice, we would hopefully be less preoccupied with them
People sometimes imagine that if we renounce our belief in “free will”, we will become completely apathetic, and just curl up in some corner and starve to death. In fact, renouncing this illusion can have two opposite effects: first, it can create a far stronger link with the rest of the world, and make you more attentive to your environment and to the needs and wishes of others. It is like when you have a conversation with someone. If you focus on what you want to say, you hardly really listen. You just wait for the opportunity to give the other person a piece of your mind. But when you put your own thoughts aside, you can suddenly hear other people.
Second, renouncing the myth of free will can kindle a profound curiosity. If you strongly identify with the thoughts and desires that emerge in your mind, you don’t need to make much effort to get to know yourself. You think you already know exactly who you are. But once you realise “Hi, this isn’t me. This is just some changing biochemical phenomenon!” then you also realise you have no idea who – or what – you actually are. This can be the beginning of the most exciting journey of discovery any human can undertake.
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There is nothing new about doubting free will or about exploring the true nature of humanity. We humans have had this discussion a thousand times before. But we never had the technology before. And the technology changes everything. Ancient problems of philosophy are now becoming practical problems of engineering and politics. And while philosophers are very patient people – they can argue about something inconclusively for 3,000 years – engineers are far less patient. Politicians are the least patient of all.
How does liberal democracy function in an era when governments and corporations can hack humans? What’s left of the beliefs that “the voter knows best” and “the customer is always right”? How do you live when you realise that you are a hackable animal, that your heart might be a government agent, that your amygdala might be working for Putin, and that the next thought that emerges in your mind might well be the result of some algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself? These are the most interesting questions humanity now faces.
Unfortunately, these are not the questions most humans ask. Instead of exploring what awaits us beyond the illusion of “free will”, people all over the world are now retreating to find shelter with even older illusions. Instead of confronting the challenge of AI and bioengineering, many are turning to religious and nationalist fantasies that are even less in touch with the scientific realities of our time than liberalism. Instead of fresh political models, what’s on offer are repackaged leftovers from the 20th century or even the middle ages.
When you try to engage with these nostalgic fantasies, you find yourself debating such thingsas the veracity of the Bible and the sanctity of the nation (especially if you happen, like me, to live in a place like Israel). As a scholar, this is a disappointment. Arguing about the Bible was hot stuff in the age of Voltaire, and debating the merits of nationalism was cutting-edge philosophy a century ago – but in 2018 it seems a terrible waste of time. AI and bioengineering are about to change the course of evolution itself, and we have just a few decades to figure out what to do with them. I don’t know where the answers will come from, but they are definitely not coming from a collection of stories written thousands of years ago.
So what to do? We need to fight on two fronts simultaneously. We should defend liberal democracy, not only because it has proved to be a more benign form of government than any of its alternatives, but also because it places the fewest limitations on debating the future of humanity. At the same time, we need to question the traditional assumptions of liberalism, and develop a new political project that is better in line with the scientific realities and technological powers of the 21st century.
Greek mythology tells that Zeus and Poseidon, two of the greatest gods, competed for the hand of the goddess Thetis. But when they heard the prophecy that Thetis would bear a son more powerful than his father, both withdrew in alarm. Since gods plan on sticking around for ever, they don’t want a more powerful offspring to compete with them. So Thetis married a mortal, King Peleus, and gave birth to Achilles. Mortals do like their children to outshine them. This myth might teach us something important. Autocrats who plan to rule in perpetuity don’t like to encourage the birth of ideas that might displace them. But liberal democracies inspire the creation of new visions, even at the price of questioning their own foundations.
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