2010 blog finances

For most people who put content on the internet, the deal provided by one company or another is this: you provide the content, we will put ads beside it, and we will pay for the servers and bandwidth necessary for hosting a website. More sneakily, sites like Facebook make their money by selling the personal information of users, in addition to selling targeted advertising (which is increasingly the same thing).

Some sites do all this earning and paying indirectly, with the people running the site outside the advertising/hosting cost loop. Alternatively, it is possible to do both yourself: sell ads and pay for hosting.

Lately, this site has followed the latter model. I pay for hosting and I have revenue from automatically-generated Google AdSense ads. The costs largely balance out. Between 1 January 2010 and 1 January 2011, this site and BuryCoal.com collectively received C$296.38 in advertising revenue. During the same span, I paid US$249.70 collectively to DreamHost and Flickr.

Would people feel more comfortable if this site was hosted by a third party that kept the advertising revenue, rather than self-funding in this way? One consideration is scaling hosting to demand. With a third party they would handle it, but I couldn’t choose to pay for performance improvements. For instance, moving to a private VPS account on DreamHost would cost US$15 per month, but would probably make the site quicker and more reliable.

[Update: 11:36pm] I have always encouraged readers who disliked the ads to use Firefox with the AdBlock Plus plugin.

The measure of a man

An interesting find, from Wikipedia:

Constituents of the human body in a person weighing 60 kg

Constituent – Weight – Percentage of atoms

  • Oxygen – 38.8 kg – 25.5 %
  • Carbon – 10.9 kg – 9.5 %
  • Hydrogen – 6.0 kg – 63.0 %
  • Nitrogen – 1.9 kg – 1.4 %
  • Other – 2.4 kg – 0.6 %

Bonus geek points to anyone who remembers the Star Trek: TNG episode with the same title as this post.

On sindark.com

sindark.com might seem like a rather random URL for this site, which consists of a mixture of posts on climate change, photography, Ottawa, and other general subjects of interest to me. The genesis of the name is a long one. Back when I was an undergraduate at UBC, a friend of mine exposed me to the James Joyce poem “Nightpiece” which contains the sonorous line: “Night’s sindark nave.” I chose that as the title for my blog at the time, which was still produced and hosted using Google’s Blogger service.

The site underwent several evolutions – moving to a private hosting company and eventually to being managed through WordPress. It also got a major update after I finished at UBC. Along with that update came the new name: “a sibilant intake of breath”. As such, the current name has nothing to do with the current URL, except insofar as both are taken from literature.

The address of the site is potentially problematic, insofar as it contains misleading theological overtones. It may communicate something a bit useful, in that this site is pretty anti-religious, but that is hardly the most important thing to highlight. As such, it is probably a good idea to eventually migrate to a new address, probably leaving all the old content where it is now.

The new address should ideally be something short and memorable, which is certainly challenging in a crowded internet landscape. I would strongly prefer for it to be .com, rather than .org or .net or anything like that. That preference isn’t driven by the view that .com sites are commercial. Rather, I just see .com as the default and easier for users to remember and use than any of the alternatives. It also offers the most flexibility, since the content of the site is not partly linked to the name.

Something like milanilnyckyj.com or ilnyckyj.com would be possible, but both are impossible to spell and less memorable than a more common word or combination of words. Perhaps I should dig back through some of my favourite pieces of writing to find a snippet of text that passes the tests of being concise, sticking in the mind of the reader, and being available with a ‘.com’ appended to the end.

Fairness and accuracy

It occurred to me recently that when writing about factual matters, fairness and accuracy do not necessarily go hand in hand.

Specifically, it is quite possible to make accurate statements that are not fair – for instance, because they lack context. This is especially true when it comes to actions that were taken in unusually difficult circumstances. For example, it can be said with complete accuracy that TEPCO – the company that operates the Fukushima nuclear complex – has intentionally put workers in situations where their lives have been at risk due to radiation and explosion dangers. Just saying that, however, is not especially fair. TEPCO has made those choices when faced with the terrifying prospect of massive radioactive release from breached reactors and/or spent fuel pools.

Naturally, there are less dramatic examples. For instance, it is quite different to accidentally injure somebody when playing a contact sport carefully than it is to intentionally injure someone while motivated by malice. You can make the accurate statement: “John broke Frank’s nose.” But fairness often requires that you say: “Because he didn’t like the way Frank looked at him” or “By accident while they were enjoying a spirited rugby match.”

I am not sure if it is possible to be fair without being accurate. Perhaps. For instance, you could strategically omit information that would unduly prejudice the person who you are communicating with. Arguably, you could even provide information which is misleading but which helps to convey an accurate overall picture. You could say something like: “Doctors made every effort to save the patient’s life”, even though there was a million-dollar operation that had a 0.5% chance of saving the person.

The Moral Landscape

Traditionally, science is understood as having limited authority on ethical questions. While scientific knowledge is useful for understanding the world better – including in ways that change our moral thinking – the idea that you can have a scientific answer to a moral question is usually rejected. That position is itself rejected by Sam Harris in The Moral Landscape: How Science can Determine Human Values. Harris argues that we can use science to develop an objective sense of what is good for human beings and what is not, and that we can judge various practices using that scale. The book sharply and effectively criticizes both religious perspectives on the nature of the world and moral relativism. Indeed, the author’s principle project seems to be the development of a non-religious alternative to relativism, based around cognitive science. For the most part, his argument strikes me as a convincing one. That, in turn, has some important implications for political debates.

Harris’ book is a complex one that makes many different arguments and points. Often, he is able to illustrate his logic through clear examples, though some of them feel a bit cliched. He could also have devoted more attention to criticizing intuitive moral reasoning within western societies. He manages some elegant and convincing rebuttals, such as his response to the scapegoat problem on page 79 of the hardcover edition.

One key element of Harris’ argument is the view that it is the conscious life of animals that matters, when it comes to the basis of ethics: “[Q]uestions about values – about meaning, morality, and life’s larger purpose – are really questions about the well-being of conscious creatures”. He argues this point convincingly, and suggests that we can build from that claim and from factual understanding of cognitive science to robust ethical judgements. Harris pays relatively little attention to non-human animals, but that is clearly an area into which such thinking can be extended, when it comes to questions like factory farming or veganism. Harris says that: “The only thing wrong with injustice is that it is, on same level, actually or potentially bad for people”. A richer ethical theory might incorporate the interests of other conscious organisms in some way.

Some of Harris’ concerns do seem a bit exaggerated. For instance, when he walks about the danger of “the societies of Europe” being “refashion[ed]” into “a new Caliphate”. He also has a bit too much faith in the power of brain scans as they now exist. Being able to track which parts of the brain receive more blood flow than others is useful, but doesn’t necessarily allow us to develop nuanced pictures of complex ideas and thought processes. As such, his argument that since functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scans of people thinking about mathematical equations resemble those of people considering ethical propositions, we should consider that evidence that the two are similar things.

Ultimately, the argument made in The Moral Landscape is utilitarian. We can come to know the basics of what makes up a good human life, and we should arrange states and global society so that people can experience them (and so that they avoid experiencing the worst things, like slavery and total personal insecurity). He makes the important point that we cannot expect to know all the consequences of particular choices, but we can nonetheless reach firm conclusions about important problems. Societies that provide education for women are better than societies that keep them in ignorance. That claim can be justified, according to Harris, by carefully examining the mental lives of people living in both kinds of society.

In particular, Harris highlights how societies that are based upon secular ethics consistently do better in measurable ways than those which are most explicitly modeled on religious ethics. “Countries like Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands”, Harris explains, “which are consistently the most atheistic societies on earth – consistently rate better tan religious nations on measures like like expectancy, infant mortality, crime, literacy, GDP, child welfare, economic equality, economic competitiveness, gender equality, health care, investments in education, rates of university enrollment, internet access, environmental protection, lack of corruption, political stability, and charity to poorer nations, etc”. He attributes the claim to P. Zuckerman’s 2008 book Society Without God.

Harris’ purpose is not a dispassionate one, focused on description. He says clearly that: “[c]hanging people’s ethical commitments… is the most important task facing humanity in the twenty-first century”. I am not sure if I quite agree. You can argue that people need to change the fundamental basis of their ethical views in order to deal with a world of 6.7 billion people. Alternatively, you can see the problem as the disconnect between the choices people make and the ethical views they already possess. If people could directly see the consequences of their choices, I think their existing ethical systems would often drive them to behave otherwise. It is because the consequences are mostly hidden – largely imposed on people in other places, and in the future – that people often make choices that are so oblivious to the harm they are forcing upon other conscious creatures. Harris argues that “one of the great tasks of civilization is to create cultural mechanisms that protect us from the moment-to-moment failures of our ethical intuitions”. I think that is especially true when it comes to economics, public policy, and the environment.

Legal chess positions versus IPv6 addresses

Based on recent minimal research, it seems like there are probably more legal chess positions than there are addresses in Internet Protocol version 6 (IPv6). Wikipedia explains that there are 3.4 x 10^38 IPv6 addresses, and explains that Claude Shannon estimated the chess figure at 10^120, though other estimates exist.

If there are more chess positions than IPv6 addresses, it means you could devise an algorithm to represent the address of an internet-connected machine using IPv6 as a legal chess position, and that there would be enough chess positions to represent every possible IPv6 address. For instance, you could devise a set of rules that would produce an exhaustive set of chess positions, then generate the whole set and start numbering them using IPv6 addresses. You would start with a legally set up board, then assign IPv6 addresses to the positions that can be achieved through every possible move. Then, keep going until your rules have produced the gigantic complete set of possible legal chess positions. It would be like a rainbow table.

That would be a neat way to express the addresses in a human-readable form. It also means that you could translate the address of any device into a playable chess game, though a lot of them would be very lopsided, in terms of which colour has the advantage.

Ahead of the curve

When confronted with a crisis like the ongoing nuclear accident in Japan, individuals are faced with some difficult choices. Usually, the authorities tell them to take very modest precautions, like not drying your laundry outdoors if you live close to the plant. Individuals themselves can take additional precautions, but risk causing knock-on effects if they do.

An obvious example is trying to move farther from the accident site. It probably improves your personal safety to be farther away, but may be an ineffective approach if everyone tries to do it at once. That actually creates a stronger personal incentive to take early action. If you leave early – before most people are excessively concerned – you might actually make it. If you wait until the government tells everyone to leave, you might find yourself stuck in a relatively chaotic mass of scared people.

A less dramatic example is avoiding certain potentially risky activities, like consuming products from pastured animals. After nuclear accidents in other places, things like milk, wool, and meat have been contaminated. It is pretty clear why that is a risk – animals that graze across a wide area of pasture get exposed to whatever level of fallout has accumulated over all that land. The same is probably true of fish and other marine organisms that either filter large amounts of water or eat other animals that do.

All told, the situation in a disaster area may be a bit of a prisoner’s dilemma. The best choice for you may be to flee and/or take precautions, but doing so could cause problems for others. Furthermore, trying to do either of those things at the same time as everyone else is more difficult than taking action before others do. That risks creating a ‘run on the bank’ scenario, however, as people farther and farther from the disaster area rush to deplete pharmacies of potassium iodide, or to purchase air-filtering equipment.

Reading momentum

On top of a chest of drawers, I have about six tall stacks of partially read books. Each horizontal stack contains about ten volumes, lying atop one another with spines facing into the room. Most of them are serious tomes on environmental topics or difficult novels that I have received as gifts. It is relatively rare that I come home from a day of work in the kind of headspace where sitting down with something challenging – in a literary or intellectual sense – is terribly appealing. Weekends, too, tend to be filled up with laundry and catching up on a work week’s neglected sleep. As such, the books tend to sit unread for weeks, and months, and years.

One trick I have found is to give myself a bit of mental cheesecake – a book that is quick and delicious. For instance, a novel that doesn’t require you to keep track of the storylines of multiple family members across different generations, perhaps punctuated by nauseating sexual violence. Or a non-fiction book that is not a depressing trudge through all the ways humanity is wrecking the planet that sustains us.

Malcolm Gladwell’s books often play this role well. So can classic novels, which often lack the flourishes that Booker Prize judges seem to fixate upon but which often make the books into impossible morasses that can only be passed through as the result of determined and uninterrupted effort.

Not only does the cheesecake book itself get read quickly and enjoyably, but it also conveys a certain forward momentum to the general project of reading, and sometimes makes me make some progress against one of the heavier items in my long queue.

Not all slopes are slippery

In all sorts of debate, the ‘slippery slope’ argument is common. It takes this basic form:

  • My opponent wants to do X.
  • I think that will inevitably lead to Y, which I think is undesirable and probably unpopular.
  • Therefore, we should not do X.

For example, see claims that granting equal rights to consenting same-sex adult couples would mean we need to allow pedophilia.

Not only must the onus be on the person using the argument to explain why the posited progression is inevitable. They must also explain why the ultimate outcome is undesirable. The whole argument type is a bit questionable, really. It saves those opposed to X from having to explain why they oppose X itself. It is easier to oppose free lunches for malnourished orphans because you think it will lead inevitably to godless communism than it is to oppose it on its own merits. It is easier, perhaps, but often not convincing when you think it through.

Slippery slope arguments are often a smokescreen intended to cause confusion. Alternatively, they are a last ditch defense when all better arguments have been convincingly rebutted.

The lure of government work

In discussions of the financial crisis, I have often heard it argued that the financial industry did some of its harm by luring intelligent and capable people away from industries that actually do more good. Rather than applying their knowledge to improving technologies, teaching the young, or providing valuable services, they spent their time earning millions for the partners at big investment banks.

It occurs to me that something a bit similar may happen with government. In many ways, government jobs are the best ones left in society. While there are strong reasons to doubt whether the pension plans will actually exist in thirty years, they do provide a good deal to people who will be retiring soon. They also provide good benefits, flexibility, high rates of pay, generous family provisions, and job security. As an unintended consequence of all that, they might be acting like the banks did – drawing in some of Canada’s most promising people, keeping them in place with generous pay and benefits, but ultimately not putting them to very good use in a lot of cases.

Economists talk about how high interest rates on government bonds can ‘crowd out’ private investment. It is easy to see how this could be the case. When a private organization needs to repay a loan, they need to earn money to do so by selling goods or services. The government, by contrast, can simply raise taxes or print money. The government also enjoys the highest level of public confidence, in that people fully expect it to repay its debts. As a result, people may find it safer and more profitable to lend their money to governments than to firms. At the same time, it is not always the case that governments will use that money well. They might, for instance, use it to fund wasteful undertakings like building hockey arenas or hosting big international sporting competitions. They might squander it on costly and unnecessary weapon systems, or on trying to buy votes in marginal constituencies, or doing favours for their friends in the private sector or their political allies.

Often, it is within the power of government to offer people the best deal available, when they are choosing how to invest their money or time. What governments should remain aware of – however – is the risk that in doing so they will be drawing people away from better uses of their energies and skills. Canada would probably be better off if some of the underused people within government were off doing productive work in some other sector instead.