Over the last years, I have edited a volume of papers on the question how to make analytical political philosophy more inclusive, with a particular focus on the debates on economic and ecological inequalities. The starting point was the observation that analytical political philosophy has for a long time been criticised for marginalizing (to a greater or lesser extent) certain voices and perspectives. Some of these voices and perspectives are internal critics of the liberal tradition – think of the feminist critiques or the critiques by care ethicists. But there have also been external perspectives that have been largely ignored, in particular perspectives from outside the western traditions. While there are well-developed specialist literatures on all of these traditions, they tend to be studied mainly by specialists. Non-western political philosophy and the internal critiques of liberal political philosophy are still too often overlooked in the field. My own estimation is that things are getting better – but very slowly, and hence I wanted to edit a book to make another small contribution to these collective effects to make political philosophy more pluralistic. [click to continue…]
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I watched Attenborough’s latest blockbuster at the cinema last night with my family, and thought I’d collect some thoughts here. First off, it’s wonderfully put together. That’s hardly news with Attenborough. Of course, it’s beautifully shot, and captures marine animals doing things we haven’t seen them do before. Much of it is really entrancing.
It’s also quite a hard-hitting film. It focuses, laser-eyed, on the carnage industrial fishing is wreaking in the ocean. The middle section of the film, which follows the beam of a bottom trawler as it trashes – just demolishes! – everything on the seabed is genuinely traumatic to watch. There was an eerie silence in our cinema, which contained quite a few kids. Even though I knew intellectually what bottom trawling looked like, and the damage it does, I honestly don’t think I will ever forget those images. It is hard to imagine a more compelling visual demonstration of the harm we are doing to the planet.
I wouldn’t say I learned much from the film, but then I am a bit of an ocean conservation geek. I sincerely hope that as many people see the film as possible. I would love it to spark a kind of Rainbow Warrior moment, perhaps with regards to bottom trawling (scallop dredging, which the film also shows, is smaller in scale but hardly less destructive).
I was pleased to see explicit discussion of the colonial (fishing) practices that are still maiming the ocean, and impoverishing many coastal communities. There was also a genuine effort to learn from indigenous and non-Western perspectives, in addition to the usual North Atlantic voices.
My only reservations circle around the stories that the film does not tell.
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Back in 2022, after my first encounter with ChatGPT, I suggested that it was likely to wipe out large categories of “bullshit jobs”, but unlikely to create mass unemployment. In retrospect, that was probably an overestimate of the likely impact. But three years later, it seems as if an update might be appropriate.
In the last three years, I have found a few uses for LLM technology. First, I use a product called Rewind, which transcribes the content of Zoom meetings and produces a summary (you may want to check local law on this). Also, I have replaced Google with Kagi, a search engine which will, if presented with a question, produced a detailed answer with links to references, most of which are similar to those I would have found on an extensive Google search, avoiding ads and promotions. Except in the sense that anything on the Internet may be wrong, the results aren’t subject to the hallucinations for which ChatGPT is infamous.
Put high-quality search and accurate summarization together and you have the technology for a literature survey. And that’s what OpenAI now offers as DeepResearch I’ve tried it a few times, and it’s as good as I would expect from a competent research assistant or a standard consultant’s report. If I were asked to do a report on a topic with which I had limited familiarity, I would certainly check out what DeepResearch had to say.
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I was not invited to the meeting where the left coordinated their war on water pressure. Sadly, then, it was over before I even knew it was happening.
One of those American executive orders (and gosh we’re getting tired of those, even from the other side of the world) to – seriously – make showers great again.
I was not the only one to think that this might have been a joke. I used three different browsers to get to the white house website to check.
Turns out, the left’s war on water pressure was over even before it even really began. Dammit.
So much is happening, and so much of it is contradictory, that whiplash is now just Tuesday. My prevailing (and perverse) hobby is to follow the live blogs on business and market matters and the mood is getting downright meh. But a kind of pissed off meh.
The relentless change started as stupid, but now it is getting boring. Every day a new set of journalism, here on substack and across the media, conducts analysis that tomorrow might be irrelevant.
This post is a rather superficial attempt to grasp what is evidently ungraspable, in the present moment. Warning: there might be sanewashing, who knows. And apologies, I intended to post this a couple of weeks when it was fresher. But events, y’know?
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Here is a joke. A philosopher goes to a policy committee.
Got it? Okay, okay, it’s probably a bad joke.
It’s also outdated: these days, many philosophers do go to policy committees. The cliché is that a philosopher sits in the academic ivory tower, thinks long and hard about a problem, then writes a theory about it. Somehow, policymakers hear about it, and at some point, they invite the philosopher to a committee in which he or she expounds what the theory means for a concrete policy question, e.g. new legislation or regulation. If it goes well, some ideas from the theory influence actual policymaking, and thus so-called “real life.”
This cliché is too simplistic. But how does political philosophy relate to policy? And how should it do that, in today’s difficult political environment? These were some of the questions of a workshop that we held last week at the Blavatnik School in Oxford. It brought together a range of scholars whose work relates to the broad label we used, “policy-oriented political philosophy.” And if there is one conclusion that can be drawn, it is that “policy-oriented political philosophy” is alive and kicking, with an incredible range of projects that bring philosophy in dialogue with citizens and policymakers, thereby also changing the ways in which we theorize.
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Political philosophers are criticised for their idealism, but when it comes to immigration they try to be ‘realistic’. Their aspiration to ‘realism’ often leads to nationalism (which I have analysed elsewhere as an implicit but heavy bias), but I still don’t understand why they aspire to realism on this issue. Philosophers have neither voters to attract, like the politicians, nor believers to bring to church, like the Popes.
Why are Popes far more progressive than philosophers on the issue of migration?
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This is the second in a very occasional series of posts discussing the following proposition: in the English-speaking world, the last 50 years has seen a dramatic increase in the quantity and quality of text and visual mass media intended for children. The first post, on kids’ animated cartoons, is here.
As noted in that post, “intended for children” here means mass media particularly targeting children aged 4-12 as the primary audience. So, Disney movies are included here, while the original Star Wars movies are not. Kids absolutely watched Star Wars — I watched it as a kid — but they weren’t the primary audience. Stuff aimed at the youngest children is excluded here, as is Young Adult stuff. (I agree that the boundaries of the latter category are very slippery.) Movies means movies in theaters, not including TV movies or straight-to-video stuff.
So then: from the early 1970s to the late 1980s, movies for children were generally mediocre to bad. There were individual works that were good or excellent, but not many; and the average was dismally low. And the quality was not much better at the end of this period than at the beginning.
But starting in the back half of the 1980s, kids movies suddenly started getting better, and then around 1995 they started getting very good indeed. The period 1970-1986 was a dark age for kid’s movies; the period 1995-2012 (0r so) was an astonishing age of gold. There was a massive cultural transformation here, and it happened fairly quickly.
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Up at the French-Spanish border in Catalonia
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Update The Trump regime has been stopped, or at least stalled, on all three fronts discussed below. In particular, the Hegseth-Noem report on the Insurrection Act seems to have been quietly buried. That doesn’t mean US democracy is safe by any means, but at least it has some chance of survival. More on this at my Substack
Back in November, when I concluded that Trump’s dictatorship was a fait accompli lots of readers thought I was going over the top. In retrospect, and with one exception, I was hopelessly over-optimistic. I imagined a trajectory similar to Orban’s Hungary, with a gradual squeeze on political opposition and civil society, playing out over years and multiple terms in office,.
The reality has been massively worse, both in terms of speed and scope. Threats of conquest against friendly countries, masked thugs abducting people from the street, shakedowns of property from enemies of the state, concentration camps outside the reach of the legal system, all happening at a pace more comparable to Germany in 1933 than to the examples I had in mind.
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And then the light of an older heaven was in my eyes
and when my vision cleared, I saw Titans.
— Alan Moore
Today’s Occasional Paper comes to us from the James Webb Space Telescope.
So let’s start with some basics: nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. So when a telescope looks out into space, it’s also looking back into time. Look at the moon? You’re seeing it as it was when the light left it’s surface about 1.5 seconds ago. Look at the Sun? You’re seeing it as it was 8 minutes ago. The Sun could have exploded 5 minutes ago, and there’s no way you could possibly know about it until 3 minutes from now.
Okay, so keep going. Look at the nearest star? You’re seeing it as it was about four years ago. Look at the center of our galaxy? 30,000 years. The light from there left around the high point of the last Ice Age. Look out of our galaxy, at our neighbor galaxy Andromeda? About 3 million years.
Now it starts to get weird and interesting. Because as we start to look at things that are billions-with-a-b light years away — very distant galaxies — things start to change. That’s because we’re looking back into the distant past of the Universe. And the Universe is only 13.5 billion years old, so… yeah. In theory, if you had a strong enough telescope, you could see back to the Big Bang and the beginning of everything.
Of course it’s not that simple. The Universe is expanding. Distant galaxies are receding from us. More distant galaxies are receding faster, often at significant fractions of the speed of light (from our perspective). This means that the distance to them is greater than you might expect. It also means that their light is “red shifted” by the Doppler effect. Also, while the Big Bang was very bright, once it cooled down the Universe was just a hot dark cloud of gas, mostly hydrogen with a bit of helium mixed in. In that earliest pre-dawn epoch, there was not much to see, and no light to see with… until the first stars switched on.
And now for a brief historical digression.
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