My 6-year-old son, Benjamin, is asking when we will start to build robots together. A friend of mine is talking about starting a robotics club in the Charlottesville area, and I think Benjamin is now picturing us creating the autonomous bots and droids of science fiction. I’m trying to lower his expectations a bit, first by introducing him to programming through MIT’s wonderful Scratch system and iPad games like CargoBot, Cato’s Hike, Kodable, and Benjamin’s favorite: A.L.E.X.
Really? Would this turn out to be some sci-fi fantasy about gynoid sexbots? That sure wasn’t the impression I was getting from the picture of Team Robotics: Read more of this post
It sometimes took many centuries until an innovation was generally accepted at least within the orbit of Western civilization. Think of the slow popularization of the use of forks, of soap, of handkerchiefs, and of a great variety of other things.
From its beginnings capitalism displayed the tendency to shorten this time lag and finally to eliminate it almost entirely. This is not a merely accidental feature of capitalistic production; it is inherent in its very nature. Capitalism is essentially mass production for the satisfaction of the wants of the masses.
Capitalism is essentially mass production for the satisfaction of the wants of the masses.
SMU professor Michael Cox has a couple of great lines in this video:
Things get better because, in order for me to succeed, I have to pay attention to your needs and wants. … I cannot make myself better off apart from making you better off as well.
Capitalism, paradoxically, starts with self-interest; but if it’s guided by freedom it maximizes social welfare.
Do we see signs of Austrianism in Egyptology and marketing?
I don’t think Barbara Mertz is a praxeologist, by which I mean that I don’t assume she would accept the claims of a priori laws concerning social phenomena, but she certainly shares Mises’s methodological dualism.
After a discussion of some standard causal theories about the rise and decline of civilization, Mertz concludes,
This has been a very superficial, limited probing of some of the types of problems we encounter when we talk about causes in history. We have not even settled the important question of whether there are causes. Yet we will probably go right on looking for them, and talking about them. The intellectual climate of our own era asks for explanations. We would like, if we could, to reduce all phenomena to systems of logical sequence. In part this is the effect of the prestige of the physical sciences, and this effect is not always for the good. History may be “scientific” in its approach, and the social studies may be “social sciences” in the sense that they apply dispassionate, critical, and rigorously logical analyses to the subjects of their discourse. But the disciplines that deal with man and his peculiar affairs cannot expect to use the methods, or anticipate the results, of the physical sciences. The human experiment will not reproduce itself under laboratory conditions; we can never control our specimens to such a degree that we can isolate a pertinent stimulus or determine a specific conclusion. My personal antipathy toward the use of the term “scientific” in the humanistic disciplines is that the very application of the word sometimes suggests to the user that such isolation and such determination are possible. Sometimes I wish they were.
We have a more personal need, in our time, to dissect the past in search of its pathology, for according to some historians our own culture is showing disturbing signs of disease. However you define the developmental stages of civilization, and upon what ever step you put us here, in this twenty-first century of the Christian Era, it seems unlikely that we are at the beginning of a process. This leaves us with the dismal possibility that we may be nearing the end. If so, it behooves us to discover, insofar as we are able, where we are, and why. If there are universal causes, and if we are able to see them plainly, we may learn how to avoid their more disastrous consequences.
That is one of the reasons why we look for reasons. Whether we have any grounds for supposing that we will find them is another question. At the moment, it appears that our only recourse, if we are about to fall, is to go down gracefully.
Psalm 137 is beautiful and disturbing. The most-often-quoted opening lines. The least-often-quoted last lines.
The Psalm:
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
How shall we sing the LORD’S song in a strange land?
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Remember, O LORD, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.
O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.
Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.
… and so is his movie, in which the lesson on sharing ends up equating property to theft and the lesson on cooperation takes the form of a popular revolution in Grouchland.
(My wife objects to my assessment: Elmo isn’t the commie; he’s the one who is trying to recover his rightful property. It’s the movie that’s red. As usual, she is right. But I felt like photoshopping Elmo.)
With people falling into the familiar annual complaint about the secularization of Christmas, the commercialization of Christmas, etc., it’s time to promote my favorite Christmas program: