Month: June 2026

Having written on the ethics of asteroid mining, I thought I would return to this subject and address an additional moral concern, namely the potential dangers of asteroid (and comet) mining. My concern here is not with the dangers to the miners but with dangers to our home world and the rest of us.

While mining of asteroids and comets is currently science fiction, it is possible and might prove to be economically viable. One relevant factor is the high cost of getting material into space. Given this cost, space construction using material mined in space might be cost effective. Satellites might be built in space from material harvested from asteroids. It is also worth considering that the cost of mining materials in space and shipping them to earth might also be low enough that space mining would be viable. If such material is more expensive to mine or has limited availability on earth, then space mining could be viable or even necessary.

If material mined in space is to be used on earth, an obvious problem is how to get the material to the surface safely and as cheaply as possible. One approach is to move an asteroid close to the earth to facilitate mining and transportation—it might be more efficient to move the asteroid rather than send mining vessels back and forth. One obvious moral concern about moving an asteroid close to earth is that something could go wrong and the asteroid could strike the earth, perhaps in a populated area. Another obvious concern is that the asteroid could be intentionally used as a weapon—perhaps by a state or by non-state actors. An asteroid could do incredible damage and would provide a “clean kill” without radioactive fallout or chemical or biological residue.  An asteroid might even “accidentally on purpose” be dropped on a target, thus allowing the attacker to claim that it was an accident (something harder to do when using actual weapons).

Given the dangers posed by moving asteroids into earth orbit, this is something that should be carefully regulated. That said, accidents and intentional misuse are guaranteed.

Another concern is the transport of material from space to earth. The obvious approach is to ship material to the surface using a vehicle, perhaps constructed in orbit from materials mined in space. Such a vehicle could be simple as it would not need a crew and would just have to ensure that the cargo landed in roughly the right area. Another approach would be to drop material from orbit—perhaps by surrounding valuable materials with materials intended to ablate during the landing and with a parachute system for some braking.

An obvious concern is the danger posed by such transport methods. While vehicles or rock-drops would not do the sort of damage that an asteroid would, if one crashed into a densely populated area (intentionally or accidentally) it could do significant harm. While such crashes will almost certainly occur, there is a moral obligation to try to minimize the chances they will happen. The obvious problem is that increasing safety usually increases cost and decreases convenience. For example, having the landing zones in unpopulated areas would reduce the risk of a crash into an urban area, but would  require transporting materials to places where it can be processed (unless the processing plants are built in the drop zone).  As another example, payload sizes might be limited to reduce the damage done by crashes. As a final example, the vessels or drop-rocks might be required to have safety systems, such as backup parachutes. Given that people will cut costs and corners and suffer lapses of attention, accidents are inevitable. We can also expect the Republican party to work hard to ensure that space mining is not well regulated and that it is used to hurt people.  Also of concern is the fact that the vessels and drop-rocks could be used as weapons (as a rule, any technology that can be used to kill people will be used to kill people). As such, there will need for safeguards. It would, for example, be bad if terrorists were able to get control of a system and start dropping vessels or rocks onto a city.

Despite the risks, if there is profit to be made in mining space and new chances to make people suffer, it will almost certainly be done. Given that the resources on earth are limited, access to the bounty of the solar system could be good for (almost) everyone. It could also be another step for humanity towards the stars. Or it could play out in a corporate dystopia.

 

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My experiences as a gamer have taught me lessons applicable to the real world (assuming it exists). One key skill for dealing with reality is the ability to model it. Roughly put, this is the ability to grasp how things work and make reasonably accurate predictions. This ability is useful: grasping how things work is a big step on the road to success.

Many games, such as Call of Cthulhu, D&D, Pathfinder and Star Fleet Battles use dice to model the vagaries of reality. For example, if your Call of Cthulhu character is trying to avoid being spotted by the cultists of Hastur as she spies on them, you would need to roll under your Sneak skill on percentile dice. As another example, if your D-7 battle cruiser were firing phasers and disruptors at a Kzinti strike cruiser, you would roll dice and consult various charts to see what happened in a game of Star Fleet Battles. Video games also include the digital equivalent of dice. For example, if you are playing World of Warcraft, the damage done by a spell or a weapon will be random(ish).

Being a gamer, it is natural for me to look at reality as also being random—after all, if a random model (gaming system) fits aspects of reality, that suggests the model has some things right. As such, I tend to think of this as being a random universe in which God (or whatever) plays dice with us.

Naturally, I do not know if the universe is random (contains elements of chance). After all, we tend to attribute chance to the unpredictable, but this unpredictability might be a matter of ignorance rather than chance. The fact that we do not know what will happen does not entail that it is a matter of chance.

People also seem to believe in chance because they think things could have been differently: the roll might have been a 1 rather than a 20 or Sam might have won the lottery. However, even if things could have been different it does not follow that chance is real. After all, chance is not the only thing that could make a difference. Also, there is the question of proving that things could have been different.  This would seem to be impossible: while it might be believed that conditions could be recreated perfectly, one factor that can never be duplicated is time. Recreating an event will always be a recreation. If the die comes up 20 on the first roll and 1 on the second, this does not show that it could have been a 1 the first time. It shiows that it was 20 the first time and 1 the second.

If someone had a TARDIS and could pop back in time to witness the roll again and if the time traveler saw a different outcome this time, then this might be evidence of chance. Or evidence that the time traveler changed the event.

Even traveling to a possible or parallel world would not be of help. If our TARDIS malfunctions and pops us into a world like our own right before the parallel me rolled the die and we see it come up 1 rather than 20, this just shows that he rolled a 1. It tells us nothing about whether my roll of 20 could have been a 1.

Of course, the other side of the coin is that I can never know that the world is non-random: aside from some sort of special knowledge about the working of the universe, a random universe and a non-random universe would seem the same. Whether my die roll is random or not, all I get is the result—I do not perceive either chance or determinism. However, I go with a random universe because, to be honest, I am a gamer who is hooked on dice.

If the universe is deterministic, then I am determined to do what I do. If the universe is random, then chance is a factor. However, a purely random universe would not permit actual decision-making: it would be determined by chance. In games, there is apparently the added element of choice—I chose for my character to try to attack the dragon and then roll dice to determine the result. As such, I also add choice to my random universe. I admit I have no idea what choice might be or how it works.

Obviously, there is no way to prove that choice occurs—as with chance versus determinism, without knowing the brute fact about choice there is no way to know whether the universe allows for choice. I go with a choice universe for the following reason: If there is no choice, then I go with choice because I have no choice. So, I am determined (or chanced) to be wrong. I could not choose otherwise. If there is choice, then I am right. So, choosing choice seems the best choice. So, I believe in a random universe with choice—mainly because of gaming. So, what about the lessons from this?

One important lesson is that decisions are made in uncertainty: because of chance, the results of any choice cannot be known with certainty. In a game, I do not know if the sword strike will finish the dragon. In life, I do not know if an investment will pay off. In general, this uncertainty can be reduced, and this shows the importance of knowing odds and consequences: such knowledge is critical to making good decisions in a game and in life. So, know as much as you can for a better tomorrow.

Another important lesson is that things can always go wrong. Or well. In a game, there might be a 1 in 100 chance that a character will be spotted by cultists. But it could happen. In life, there might be a 1 in a 1,000 chance of a doctor taking precautions catching Ebola from a patient. But it could happen. Because of this, the possibility of failure must always be considered, and it is wise to take steps to minimize the chances of failure and the consequences.

Keeping in mind the role of chance also helps a person be more understanding, sympathetic and forgiving. After all, if things can fail or go wrong because of chance, then it makes sense to be more forgiving and understanding of failure—at least when the failure can be attributed in part to chance. It also helps when it comes to praising success: knowing that chance plays a role in success is also important. For example, people often assume that the success of those they like is deserved because it must be the result of hard work, virtue and so on. However, if chance plays a significant role in success, then that should be considered when praising people, condemning them, and making decisions. Naturally, the role of chance in success and failure should be considered when planning and creating policies. Unfortunately, people often take the view that both success and failure are mainly a matter of choice—for example, that the rich must deserve their riches, and the poor must deserve their poverty. However, an understanding of chance would help our understanding of success and failure and would, hopefully, influence the decisions we make.  There is an old saying “there, but for the grace of God, go I.” One could also say “there, but for the luck of the die, go I.”

 

 

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In science fiction automated medical services are common. One example is the autodoc—an autonomous robotic pod that treats the patient within its confines. Medbots, as distinct from the autodoc, are robots that do not enclose the patient, but do their work in a way like a traditional doctor or medic.  There are also non-robotic options using remote-controlled machines—this would be an advanced form of telemedicine in which the patient can be treated remotely. Naturally, robots can be built that can be switched from robotic (autonomous) to remote controlled mode. For example, a medbot might gather data about the patient and then a human doctor might take control to diagnose and treat the patient.

One of the main and morally commendable reasons to create medical robots and telemedicine capabilities is to treat people in areas without enough human medical professionals. For example, a medical specialist who lives in New York City could diagnose and treat patients in such desolate areas as New Jersey or Ohio. With such machines, a patient could (in theory) have access to any also radically change health care—after all, a medical robot would never get tired and such robots could, in theory, be sent all over the world, even Florida, to provide medical care. There is, of course, the usual concern about the impact of technology on jobs—if robots can replace medical personnel and increase profits for corporations, that will certainly happen. While robots would excel at programmable surgery and similar tasks, it will probably be some time before robots are advanced enough to replace human medical professionals on a large scale

Another excellent reason to create medical robots and telemedicine capabilities has been made clear by the latest Ebola outbreak: medical personnel are at risk for infection. While protective gear and protocols do exist, the gear is cumbersome, flawed and hot and people often fail to follow protocols.  While many people are moral heroes and put themselves at risk to treat the ill and bury the dead, there are no doubt people who are deterred by the very real possibility of a horrible death. Medical robots and telemedicine seem ideal for handling such cases and the more utopian use of robots is to save lives (rather than just take jobs).

First, human diseases cannot infect machines: a robot cannot get Ebola. So, a doctor using telemedicine to treat Ebola patients would be at not risk. This would presumably increase the number of people willing to treat such diseases and lower the impact of such diseases on medical professionals. That is, far fewer would get sick or die trying to treat people.

 Second, while a machine can be contaminated, decontaminating a medical robot or telemedicine machine would be easier than disinfecting a human. After all, a sealed machine could be completely hosed down by another machine without concerns about it being poisoned by disinfectants, etc. While patients might be exposed to a contaminated machine, machines do not go home—so a contaminated machine would not spread a disease like an infected or contaminated human would.

Third, medical machines could be sent, even air-dropped, into remote and isolated areas that lack doctors yet are often the starting points of diseases. This would allow a rapid response that would help the people there and help stop a disease before it makes its way into heavily populated areas. While some doctors and medical professionals are willing to be dropped into isolated areas, there are no doubt many more who would be willing to remotely operate a medical machine that has been dropped into a remote area suffering from a deadly disease.

There are, of course, some concerns about the medical machines, be they medbots, autodocs or telemedicine devices.

One is that these medical machines might be so expensive that it would be cost prohibitive to use them in situations in which they would be ideal (namely in isolated or impoverished areas). While politicians and pundits often blather about human life being priceless, actual practice shows they do not act on this. So, the challenge would be to develop medical machines that are effective yet inexpensive enough that they would be deployed where they would be needed.

Another concern is the possibility of a psychological impact on the patient. When patients who have been treated by medical personal in hazard suits speak about their experiences, they often remark on the lack of human contact. If a machine is treating the patient, even one remotely operated by a human, there will be a lack of human contact. But the psychological harm done to the patient would be outweighed by the vastly lowered risk of a disease spreading. Also, machines could be designed to provide more in the way of human interaction—for example, a telemedicine machine could have a screen that allows the patient to see the doctor’s face and talk to her.

A third concern is that such machines could malfunction or be intentionally interfered with. For example, someone might “hack” into a telemedicine device as an act of terrorism. While it might be wondered why someone would do this, it seems to be a general rule that if someone can do something evil, then someone will do something evil. As such, these devices would need to be safeguarded. While no device will be perfect, it would certainly be wise to consider possible problems ahead of time—although the usual process is to have something horrible occur and then fix it. Or at least talk about fixing it.

In sum, the latest Ebola outbreak has (once again) shown the importance of developing effective medical machines that can enable treatment while taking medical and other personnel out of harm’s way.

 

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The right to vote is part of the foundation of democracy and this includes the right to have one’s vote count. One part of protecting this right is preventing voter fraud. Fraud can rob legitimate voters of their right to decide the election. Another part is preventing voter suppression because it can rob people of their votes.

Republicans profess to be very worried about voter and election fraud (by Democrats) and have enacted laws aimed they claim will reducing such fraud. In response, Democrats claim these laws are aimed at voter suppression. Each side accuses the other of having wicked political motives. Many Democrats see Republicans as trying to disenfranchise voters who tend to vote for Democrats. The Republicans counter, without evidence, that Democrats support fraud because it is in their favor. While these beliefs might be sincere, sincerity is irrelevant to truth. What matters are the reasons and evidence that support the belief. As such, I will look at the available evidence and endeavor to sort out the matter.

One point of contention is the extent of voter fraud. One longstanding Republican talking point is that voter fraud is widespread.  For example, on April 7, 2014 Dick Morris claimed that over 1 million people voted twice in 2012. If this was true, then it would be a very serious matter: widespread voter fraud could change the results of elections and rob voters of their right to decide. Democrats admit fraud does occur but at such a miniscule level that it has no effect on election outcomes and does not warrant the measures favored by the Republicans.

Settling this matter requires looking at the available facts.  Dick Morris’ claim (which made the rounds as a conservative talking point), is false. But the fact that Morris was astoundingly wrong does not prove that voter fraud is not widespread. However, the facts do. Despite years of searching for fraud, the Republicans have not found any evidence (other their own efforts to overturn the 2020 election).

Republicans argue for voter ID laws by claiming they will prevent fraud. However, past investigations of voter fraud has shown only 31 credible cases out of one billion ballots. As such, this sort of fraud does occur—but only at an incredibly low rate.

In general, significant (let alone widespread) voter fraud does not occur although the myth is widespread. Republican claims about voter fraud are based on a myth and shows the lack of foundation for their claims and proposals regarding the matter. And yet they persist in their fairy tales of fraud.

It might be argued that while voter fraud is insignificant, it still must be countered by laws and policy changes, such as requiring voter IDs and eliminating early voting.  This has some appeal. To use an analogy, even if only a fraction of 1% of students cheated, then professors should still take some effort to prevent that cheating for the sake of academic integrity. Unless, of course, the measures used to counter that cheating did more harm than the cheating. The same would seem to apply to measures to counter voter fraud.

A key moral issue here is whether it is more important to prevent fraud or to prevent disenfranchisement. This is analogous to the moral concern about guilt in the legal system. In the United States, there is (supposed to be) a presumption of innocence on the moral grounds that it is better that a guilty person goes free than an innocent person be unjustly punished. In the case of voting, should it be accepted that it is better that a legitimate voter be denied her vote rather than an illegitimate voter be allowed to get away with fraud? Or is it better that an illegitimate voter gets away with fraud then to deny a legitimate voter her right to vote?

My moral conviction is that it is more important to prevent disenfranchisement and this should be given greater weight than fraud prevention. To avoid a straw man attack, I must say I am against fraud and favor rational safeguards against it. However, given the minuscule rates of fraud if attempts to reduce it result in disenfranchisement, then I would oppose such attempts on moral grounds. Naturally, others take a different view and believe it is worth disenfranchising voters in an (alleged) attempt to reduce the minuscule rates of fraud to even more miniscule levels.

Returning to the matter of facts, one  important concern is whether the laws and policies in question result in voter suppression. If they do not, even if they do nothing to counter voter fraud, then they might be tolerable (assuming they do not come with other costs).

But the evidence shows the laws allegedly aimed at preventing voter fraud serve as voter suppression measures, mostly aimed at minority voters. Keith Bentele and Erin E. O’Brien published a study entitled “Jim Crow 2.0? Why States Consider and Adopt Restrictive Voter Access Policies.” Based on their analysis of the data, they concluded “the Republican Party has engaged in strategic demobilization efforts in response to changing demographics, shifting electoral fortunes, and an internal rightward ideological drift among the party faithful.” The full study, from the journal Perspectives on Politics, is available here. Since this is a factual matter, those who disagree with these findings can counter this by providing an analysis of equal or greater credibility based on supported facts. Since the 2013 study, Republicans have increased their efforts to fight “fraud” and Trump has made it clear he wants Republicans to do anything they can to ensure Republican victories through such means as redistricting and various strategies that are obviously aimed at voter suppression.

It is a talking point among Republicans that most professors are tools of the Democrats and academic experts should not be trusted. While this has been an effective ad homimen, what is needed is evidence and arguments countering the claims.  If professors are tools of the Democrats and academic experts are not to be trusted, then it should be easy to provide credible, objective evidence and analysis showing that they are in error.

One of the best-known methods proposed to counter voter fraud is the voter ID law. While, as shown above, the sort of fraud that would be prevented by these laws almost never occurs, it serves to disenfranchise voters. As would be suspected, Hispanic and African-American voters are more likely than white Americans to lack the ID required by these laws.

Another approach is to make it harder for citizens to register. One example is restrictions on voter registration drives—Hispanics and African-Americans register to vote at twice the rate of whites via drives. It is not clear how these methods would reduce fraud. The restrictions mostly do not seem to be aimed at making it harder for people to register fraudulently—just to make it more inconvenient to register at all.

A third tactic is to reduce the available early voting times and eliminate weekend and evening voting. This would seem to have no effect on fraud but seems aimed at minority voting patterns. In 2008 70% of African-American voters in North Carolina cast their ballots early.  Minority voters are more likely than white voters to vote on weekends and in the evening. For example, 56% of the 2008 weekend voters in Cuyahoga County in Ohio were black.

A fourth tactic is to make it harder for people with past convictions to regain their voting rights. This impacts African Americans the most. This tactic does not prevent fraud—it merely denies people the right to vote.

The laws and policies allegedly aimed at voter fraud would not reduce the existing fraud (which is already miniscule) and the only effect would be to suppress voting. As such, these laws and proposals fail to protect the rights of voters and instead are a violation of that basic right. In short, they are either a misguided and failed effort to prevent fraud or a wicked and potentially successful effort to suppress voters in favor of Republican victories. Either way, these laws and policies are a violation of a fundamental right of American democracy.

 

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 While most Americans do not vote, there is still in question of how a voter should vote. While I have opinions about the candidates and issues in the upcoming election in my adopted state of Florida, this essay is not aimed at convincing you to vote as I will. Rather, my goal is to discuss how you should vote in general.

The answer to the question of how you should vote is easy: if you are rational, then you should vote in your rational self-interest. In the case of a candidate, you should vote for the candidate you believe will act in your self-interest. In the case of such things as ballot measures, you should vote for or against based on how you believe it will impact your self-interest. So, roughly put, you should vote for what you think is best for you.

While this is obvious advice, it does bring up two often overlooked concerns. The first is the determining what is actually in your self-interest. The second is determining whether your decision is in your self-interest. In the case of a candidate, the concern is whether the candidate will act in your self-interest. In the case of things like ballot measures, the question is whether the measure will be advantageous to your interests or not.

It might be thought that a person knows what is in her self-interest. Unfortunately, people can be wrong about this. In most cases people assume that if they want or like something, then it is in their self-interest. But what a person likes or wants might not be what is best for them. For example, a person might like the idea of cutting school funding without considering how it will impact her family and community. In contrast, what people do not want, or dislike is often assumed to be against their self-interest. But what a person dislikes or does not want might not be bad for her. For example, a person might dislike the idea of an increased minimum wage and vote against it without considering whether it would be in their self-interest or not. The take-away is that a person needs to look beyond what they like or dislike, want or do not want to determine their actual self-interest.

It is natural to think that of what is in a person’s self interest in selfish terms. That is, in terms of what seems to benefit only the person without considering its effect on others. While this is one way to look at self-interest, it is worth considering what might seem to be in a person’s selfish interest could be against her self-interest. For example, a business owner might see paying taxes to fund public education as being against her self-interest because it seems to have no direct, selfish benefit to her. However, having educated fellow citizens would seem to be in her self-interest and even in her selfish interest. Having the state pay for the education of her workers is advantageous to her—even if she has to contribute a little through her taxes. As another example, a person might see paying taxes for public health programs and medical aid to foreign countries as against her self-interest because she has her own medical coverage and does not travel to those countries. However, as has been shown with Ebola, public and world health is in her interest—unless she lives in total isolation. As such, even the selfish should consider whether their selfishness in a matter is actually in their self-interest.

It is also worth considering a view of self-interest that is more altruistic. That is, that a person’s interest is not just in her individual advantages but also in the general good. For this sort of person, providing for the common defense and securing the general welfare would be in her self-interest because her self-interest goes beyond just herself.

So, a person should sort out her self-interest and consider that it might not just be a matter of what she likes, wants or sees as in her selfish advantage. The next step is to determine which candidate is most likely to act in her self-interest and which vote on a ballot measure is most likely to serve her self-interest.

Political candidates, obviously enough, try to convince their target voters that they will act in their interest. Those backing ballot measures also do their best to convince voters that voting a certain way is in their self-interest. However, the evidence shows that most politicians do not act in the interest of the majority of those who voted for them. Researchers at Princeton and Northwestern conducted a study, “Testing Theories of American Politics: Elites, Interest Groups, and Average Citizens”, to determine whether politicians acted based on the preferences of the majority. The researchers examined about 1,800 policies and matched them against the preferences expressed by three classes: the average American (50th income percentile), the affluent American (the 90th percentile of income) and the large special interest groups.

The results are hardly surprising: “The central point that emerges from our research is that economic elites and organized groups representing business interests have substantial independent impacts on US government policy, while mass-based interest groups and average citizens have little or no independent influence.” This suggests that voters are bad at selecting candidates who will act in their interest. Or, to be fair and balanced, perhaps there are few  candidates who will do so.

It can be countered that the study just shows that politicians generally act contrary to the preferences of the majority but not that they act contrary to their self-interest. After all, I made the point that what people want (prefer) might not be what is in their self-interest. But, on the face of it, unless what is in the interest of the majority is that the affluent get their way, then it seems that the politicians voters choose generally do not act in the best interest of the voters. This would suggest that voters should pick different candidates and that better people should run for office.

 

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When I was a young kid I played games like Monopoly, Chutes & ladders and Candy Land. When I was an older kid, I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons and this was a gateway game to complex games like Call of Cthulhu, Battletech, Star Fleet Battles, Gamma World, and video games of all sorts. I am still a gamer—a bags of many-sided dice and exotic gaming mice dwell within my house.

Over the years, I have learned many lessons from gaming. One of these is to keep rolling. This is, not surprisingly, like the classic advice of “keep trying” and the idea is basically the same. However, there is some philosophy behind “keep rolling.”

Most of the games I have played feature actual or virtual dice (that is, randomness) used to determine how things go in the game. As a simple example, the dice rolls in Monopoly determine how far your piece moves. In more complicated games like Pathfinder or Destiny the dice (or random number generators) govern such things as attacks, damage, saving throws, loot, non-player character reactions and, in short, much of what happens in the game. For most of these games, the core mechanics are built around what is supposed to be a random system. For example, in games like D&D when your character attacks the dragon with her great sword, a roll of a 20-sided die determines whether you hit or not. If you do hit, then you roll more dice to determine your damage.

Having played these sorts of games for years, I can think very well in terms of chance and randomness when planning tactics and strategies within such games. On the one hand, a lucky roll can result in victory in the face of overwhelming odds. On the other hand, a bad roll can seize defeat from the jaws of victory. But, in general, success is more likely if one does not give up and keeps on rolling.

This lesson translates  easily and obviously to life. There are, of course, many models and theories of how the real world works. Some theories present the world as deterministic—all that happens occurs as it must and things cannot be otherwise. Others present a pre-determined world (or pre-destined): all that happens occurs as it has been ordained and cannot be otherwise. Still other models present a random universe.

As a gamer, I favor the random universe model: God does play dice and He often rolls them hard. The reason I believe this is that the dice/random model of gaming seems to work when applied to the actual world—as such, my belief is mostly pragmatic. Since games are supposed to model parts of reality, it is hardly surprising that there is a match up. Based on my own experience, the world does seem to work rather like a game: success and failure seem to involve an abundance of chance.

As a philosopher, I recognize this could be a matter of epistemology: the apparent chance could be the result of our ignorance rather than randomness. To use the obvious analogy, the game master might not be rolling dice behind her screen at all and what happens might be determined or pre-determined. Unlike in a game, the rule system for reality is not readily accessible: it is guessed at by what we observe and we learn the game of life by playing.

That said, the dice model seems to fit experience best: I try to do something and succeed or fail with a degree of apparent randomness. Because I believe that randomness is a factor, I consider that my failure to reach a goal could be partially due to chance. So, if I want to achieve that goal, I roll again. And again. Until I succeed or decide that the game is not worth the roll. Not being a fool, I do consider that success might be impossible—but I do not infer that from one or even a few bad rolls. This approach to life has served me well and will no doubt do so until it finally kills me.

 

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As I have written in other essays, the Dungeons & Dragons alignment system is surprisingly useful for categorizing people in the real world. This time I will look at chaotic evil.

In fantasy games, players often encounter chaotic evil foes—these include classic enemies ranging from the lowly goblin to the terrifyingly powerful demon lord. Chaotic evil foes are usually good choices for those who write adventures—no matter what alignment the party happens to be, almost no one has a problem with killing chaotic evil creatures. Especially other chaotic evil creatures. Fortunately, chaotic evil is not as common in the actual world as it is in game world. In the game system, chaotic evil is defined as follows:

 

A chaotic evil character is driven entirely by her own anger and needs. She is thoughtless in her actions and acts on whims, regardless of the suffering it causes others.

In many ways, a chaotic evil character is pinned down by her inherent nature to be unpredictable. She is like a spreading fire, a coming storm, an untested sword blade. An extreme chaotic evil character tends to find similarly minded individuals to be with—not out of any need for company, but because there is a familiarity in this chaos, and she relishes the opportunity to be true to her nature with others who share that delight.

 

The chaotic evil person differs from the lawful evil person in their view of law. While they are both evil, the lawful evil person is committed to order, tradition and hierarchy. As such, lawful evil types can create, lead and live in organized states (and all real-world states have lawful evil aspects). They can get along with others. In contrast, chaotic evil types have no commitment to order, tradition or hierarchy. But they can be compelled. For example, if the threat of punishment is sufficient, a chaotic evil type will obey those with greater power. Chaotic evil types do like order, tradition and hierarchy in the same way that arsonists like things that burn—without these things, the chaotic evil type would have much less to destroy.

Lawful evil types do often find chaotic evil types useful for specific tasks, although those wise about evil are aware of the dangers of using such tools. For example, a well-organized terrorist group or corporation might have lawful evil leadership. However, they will find many uses for the chaotic evil types. A lawful evil type is generally not likely to strap on an explosive vest and run into a crowd, but a chaotic evil person might. Lawful evil types also sometimes need people to create chaos so that they can then impose more order—the chaotic evil are the right people for this job. But, as noted, chaotic evil people can get out of hand—they are not constrained by order or even rational selfishness. This is why the smart lawful evil types do their best to see to it that the chaotic evil types do not outlive their usefulness.

The chaotic evil person differs from the neutral evil person in terms of their view of chaos. While the chaotic evil and neutral evil are both selfish and care nothing for others, the neutral evil person tends to be more rational and calculating in her selfishness. A neutral evil person can have excellent self-control and conceal her true nature to achieve her selfish and evil ends. Chaotic evil types lack that self-control and find it hard to conceal their true nature—that takes a discipline that the chaotic, by their nature, lack. President Trump provides an excellent real-world example of a chaotic evil person, although his followers might envision him as awful good.

The neutral evil see society as having instrumental value for them—but their selfishness means that they will take actions that can destroy society. The chaotic evil person sees no value in society other than as presenting a target rich environment for their evil. In our world, chaotic evil types tend to be those who commit horrific crimes, endeavor to corrupt and destroy nations, or engage in acts of brutal terror.

While chaotic evil types are chaotic and evil, they can take up the mantle of a cause and purport to be acting for some greater good. However, their actions disprove their claims about their alleged commitment to anything good. They might take up a religious or political cause to assuage whatever shreds of conscience they might still retain—or do so as part of their chaotic game.

In an orderly society that does not need the chaotic evil people to do evil tasks, smarter chaotic evil types try to hide from the authorities—though their nature drives them to commit evil. Those that are less clever commit their misdeeds and are quickly caught. The cleverer might never be caught and become legends. Fortunately for the chaotic evil (and unfortunately for everyone else), they have plenty of opportunities to act on their alignment. There are always organizations that are happy to have them and there are always places where they can act in accord with their true natures—often with the support and blessings of the authority. In the end, though many are willing to make use of their morality, no rational person wants the chaotic evil around.

 

 

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As noted in other essays I’ve written on the subject, it is often useful to look at the actual world in terms of the D&D alignment system. In this essay, I will look at the alignment that many players find the most annoying: lawful good (or, as some call it, “awful good”).

Pathfinder, which is a version of the D20 D&D system, presents the alignment as follows:

 

A lawful good character believes in honor. A code or faith that she has unshakable belief in likely guides her. She would rather die than betray that faith, and the most extreme followers of this alignment are willing (sometimes even happy) to become martyrs.

A lawful good character at the extreme end of the lawful-chaotic spectrum can seem pitiless. She may become obsessive about delivering justice, thinking nothing of dedicating herself to chasing a wicked dragon across the world or pursuing a devil into Hell. She can come across as a taskmaster, bent upon her aims without swerving, and may see others who are less committed as weak. Though she may seem austere, even harsh, she is always consistent, working from her doctrine or faith. Hers is a world of order, and she obeys superiors and finds it almost impossible to believe there’s any bad in them. She may be more easily duped by such imposters, but in the end she will see justice is done—by her own hand if necessary.

 

In the fantasy worlds of role-playing games, the exemplar of the lawful good alignment is the classic paladin. Played properly, a paladin character is a paragon of virtue, a force of righteousness, a defender of the innocent and a pain in the party’s collective ass. This is because the paladin and, to a somewhat lesser extent, all lawful good characters are very strict about being good. They are usually willing to impose their goodness on the party, even when this means that the party must take more risks, do things the hard way, or forgo some gain. For example, lawful good characters usually insist on destroying evil magical items or sealing them away, even when they could be cashed in for stacks of gold.

In terms of actual world moral theories, lawful good tends to closely match virtue theory: the objective is to be a paragon of virtue and all that entails. In actual game play, players tend to (knowingly or unknowingly) embrace the sort of deontology (rules-based ethics) made famous by our good dead friend Immanuel Kant. On this view, morality is about duty and obligations, the innate worth of people, and the need to take action because it is right (rather than expedient or prudent). Like Kant, lawful good types tend to be absolutists—there is one and only one correct solution to any moral problem and there are no exceptions. The lawful good types also tend to reject consequentialism—while the consequences of actions are not ignored (except by the most fanatical of the lawful good), what ultimately matters is whether the act is good in and of itself.

In the actual world, a some purport to be lawful good—that is, they claim to be devoted to honor, goodness, and order. Politicians, not surprisingly, often try to cast themselves, their causes and their countries in these terms. As might be suspected, most of these people are trying to deceive others or themselves—they mistake their prejudices for goodness and their love of power for a devotion to a just order.  While those skilled at deceiving others are dangerous, those who have convinced themselves of their own goodness can be far more dangerous: they are willing to destroy all who oppose them for they believe that those people must be evil.

Fortunately, there are some lawful good types in the world. These are the people who sincerely work for just, fair and honorable systems of order, be they nations, legal systems, faiths or organizations. While they can seem a bit fanatical at times, they do not cross over into the evil that serves as a key component of true fanaticism.

Neutral good types tend to see the lawful good types as being too worried about order and obedience. The chaotic good types respect the goodness of the lawful good types, but find their obsession with hierarchy, order and rules oppressive. However, good creatures do their best to avoid willingly and knowingly harming other good creatures. So, while a chaotic good person might be critical of a lawful good organization, she would probably not try to destroy it. 

Chaotic evil types are the antithesis of the lawful good types and they are devoted enemies. The chaotic evil folks hate the order and goodness of the lawful good, and delight in destroying them. Many in the Trump regime seem to embrace chaos and evil.

Neutral evil types are opposed to the goodness of the lawful good but can be adept at exploiting both the lawful and good aspects of the lawful good. Of course, the selfishly evil need to avoid exposure, since the good will not willingly suffer their presence.

Lawful evil types can often get along with the lawful good types in serving the cause of order. Both respect tradition, authority and order—although they do so for very different reasons. Classic American Republicans and Democrats tended to be lawful evil. Bill Clinton, for example, seems to abide by this alignment although some might see him as more lawful neutral.  Lawful evil types often have compunctions that can make them seem to have some goodness and the lawful good are sometimes willing to see such compunctions as signs of the possibility of redemption. In general, the lawful good and lawful evil are most likely to be willing to work together at the societal level. For example, they might form an alliance against a chaotic evil threat to their nation. Inevitably, though, the lawful good and lawful evil must end up in conflict.  Which is as it should be.

 

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This is the third and final essay on Newcomb’s Paradox. In it I will discuss Nozick’s stipulation about the effect of how the player of the game decides. The paradox itself is described in the first essay in this series. Nozick’s condition is that “what you actually decide to do is not part of the explanation of why he made the prediction he made”.

This stipulation provides some insight into how the Predictor’s prediction ability is supposed to work. This is important because the workings of the Predictor’s ability to predict are, as I argued in my previous essay, critical to sorting out how one should decide.

The stipulation mainly serves to indicate how the Predicator’s ability does not work. First, it suggests the Predictor does not rely on time travel—it does not go forward in time to observe the decision and then travel back to place (or not place) the money in the box. After all, the prediction in this case would be explained in terms of what the player decided to do. This still leaves it open for the Predictor to visit (or observe) a possible future (or a possible world that is running temporally ahead of the actual world) since the possible future does not reveal what the player actually decides, just what she decides in that possible future. Second, this would seem to indicate that the Predictor is not able to “see” the actual future (perhaps by being able to perceive all of time “at once” rather than linearly as humans do). After all, in this case it would be predicting based on what the player decided. Third, this would also rule out any form of backwards causation in which the actual choice was the cause of the prediction. While there are, perhaps, other specific possibilities that are also eliminated, the gist is that the Predictor must, by Nozick’s stipulation, be limited to information available at the time of the prediction and not information from the future. There are a multitude of possibilities here.

One possibility is that the Predictor is telepathic and can predict based on what it reads in terms of the player’s intentions at the time of the prediction. In this case, the best approach would be for the player to think that she will take one box, and then after the prediction is made, take both. Or, alternatively, use some sort of drugs or technology to “trick” the Predictor. The success of this strategy would depend on how well the player can fool the Predictor. If the Predictor cannot be fooled or is unlikely to be fooled, then the smart strategy would be to intend to take box B and then just take box B. After all, if the Predictor cannot be fooled, then box B will be empty if the player intends to take both.

Another possibility is that the Predictor is a researcher—it gathers as much information as it can about the player and makes a shrewd guess based on that information (which might include what the player has written about the paradox). Since Nozick stipulates that the Predictor is “almost certainly” right, the Predictor would need to be an amazing researcher. In this case, the player’s only way to mislead the Predictor is to determine its research methods and try to “game” it so the Predictor will predict that she will just take B, then actually decide to take both. But, once again, the Predictor is stipulated to be “almost certainly” right—so the player should just take B. If B is empty, then the Predictor got it wrong, which would “almost certainly” not happen. Of course, it could be contended that since the player does not know how the Predictor will predict based on its research (the player might not know what she will do), then the player should take both. This, of course, assumes that the Predictor has a reasonable chance of being wrong—contrary to the stipulation.

A third possibility is that the Predictor predicts in virtue of its understanding of what it takes to be a determinist system. Alternatively, the system might be a random system, but one that has probabilities. In either case, the Predictor uses the data available to it at the time and then “does the math” to predict what the player will decide.

If the world really is deterministic, then the Predictor could be wrong if it is determined to make an error in its “math.” So, the player would need to predict how likely this is and then act accordingly. But, of course, the player will simply act as she is determined to act. If the world is probabilistic, then the player would need to estimate the probability that the Predictor will get it right. But it is stipulated that the Predictor is “almost certainly” right so any strategy used by the player to get one over on the Predictor will “almost certainly” fail, so the player should take box B. Of course, the player will do what “the dice say” and the choice is not a “true” choice.

If the world is one with metaphysical free will that is in principle unpredictable, then the player’s actual choice would, in principle, be unpredictable. But, of course, this directly violates the stipulation that the Predictor is “almost certainly” right. If the player’s choice is truly unpredictable, then the Predictor might make a shrewd or educated guess, but it would not be “almost certainly” right. In that case, the player could make a rational case for taking both—based on the estimate of how likely it is that the Predictor got it wrong. But this would be a different game, one in which the Predictor is not “almost certainly” right.  

This discussion seems to nicely show that the stipulation that “what you actually decide to do is not part of the explanation of why he made the prediction he made” is a red herring. Given the stipulation that the Predictor is “almost certainly” right, it does not really matter how its predictions are explained. The stipulation that what the player actually decides is not part of the explanation simply serves to mislead by creating the false impression that there is a way to “beat” the Predictor by actually deciding to take both boxes and gambling that it has predicted the player will just take B.  As such, the paradox seems to be dissolved—it is the result of some people being misled by one stipulation and not realizing that the stipulation that the Predictor is “almost certainly” right makes the other irrelevant.

 

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Newcomb’s Paradox was created by William Newcomb of the University of California’s Lawrence Livermore Laboratory. The dread philosopher Robert Nozick published a paper on it in 1969 and it was popularized in Martin Gardner’s 1972 Scientific American column. I described the game in my previous essay in this series.

As a philosopher, a game master (a person who runs a tabletop role playing game) and an author of game adventures, I am fond of puzzles and paradoxes. As a philosopher, I can (like other philosophers) engage in the practice known as “just making stuff up.” As an adventure author, I can do the same—but I need to present the mechanics of each problem, puzzle and paradox. For example, a trap description must specific how the trap works, how it can be overcome and what happens if it is set off. I thought it would be interesting to look at Newcomb’s Paradox from a game master’s perspective.

One advantage of crafting mechanics for a game is that the author and the game master know how it works. That is, she knows the truth of the matter. While the players in role-playing games know the basic rules, they often do not know the full mechanics of a specific challenge, trap or puzzle. Instead, they need to figure out how it works—which often involves falling into spiked pits or being ground up into wizard burger. Fortunately, Newcomb’s Paradox has very simple game mechanics, but many variants.

In game mechanics, the infallible Predictor is easy to model. The game master’s description would be as follows: “have the player character (PC) playing the Predictor’s game make her choice. The Predictor is infallible, so if the player takes box B, she gets the million. If the player takes both, she gets $1,000.” In this case, the right decision is to take B. After all, the Predictor is infallible. So, the solution is easy.

A less-than infallible Predictor is also easy to model with dice. The description of the Predictor simply specifies the accuracy of its predictions. So, for example: “The Predictor is correct 99% of the time. After the player character makes her choice, roll D100 (generating a number from 1-100). If you roll 100, the Predictor was wrong. If the PC picked just box B, it is empty and she gets nothing because the Predictor predicted she would take both. If she picked both, B is full and she gets $1,001,000 because the Predictor predicted she would just take one. If you roll 1-99, the Predictor was right. If the PC picked box B, she gets $1,000,000. If she takes both, she gets $1,000 since box B is empty.” In this case, the decision one of gambling and the right choice can be calculated by considering the chance the Predictor is right and the relative payoffs. Assuming the Predictor is “almost always right” would make choosing only B the rational choice (unless the player absolutely and desperately needs only $1,000), since the player who picks just B will “almost always” get the $1,000,000 rather than nothing while the player who picks both will “almost always” get just $1,000. But, if the Predictor is “almost always wrong” (or even just usually wrong), then taking both would be the better choice. And so on for all the fine nuances of probability. The solution is relatively easy—it just requires doing some math based on the chance the Predictor is correct in its predictions. As such, if the mechanism of the Predicator is specified, there is no paradox and no problem at all. But, of course, in a role-playing game puzzle, the players should not know the mechanism.

If the game master is doing her job, when the players are confronted by the Predictor, they will not know the predictor’s predictive powers (and clever players will suspect some sort of trick or trap). The game master will say something like “after explaining the rules, the strange being says ‘my predictions are nearly always right (or always right)’ and sets two boxes down in front of you.” Really clever players will, of course, make use of spells, items, psionics or technology (depending on the game) to try to determine what is in the box and the capabilities of the Predictor. Most players will also consider just attacking the Predictor and seeing what sort of loot it has. So, for the game to be played in accord with the original version, the game master will need to provide plausible ways to counter all these efforts so that the players have no idea about the abilities of the Predictor or what is in box B. In some ways, this sort of choice would be like Pascal’s Wager: one knows that the Predictor will get it right or it won’t. But, in this case, the player has no idea about the odds of the Predictor being right. In this case, from the perspective of the player who is acting in ignorance, taking both boxes yields a 100% chance of getting $1,000 and somewhere between 0 and 100% chance of getting the extra $1,000,000. Taking the B box alone yields a 100% chance of not getting the $1,000 and some chance between 0% and 100% of getting $1,000,000. When acting in ignorance, the safe bet is to take both: the player walks away with at least $1,000. Taking just B is a gamble that might or might not pay off. The player might walk away with nothing or $1,000,000.

But which choice is rational can depend on many possible factors. For example, suppose the players need $1,000 to buy a weapon they need to defeat the big boss monster in the dungeon, then picking the safe choice would be the smart choice: they can get the weapon for sure. If they need $1,001,000 to buy the weapon, then picking both would also be a smart choice, since that is the only way to get that sum in this game. If they need $1,000,000 to buy the weapon, then there is no rational way to pick between taking one or both, since they have no idea what gives them the best chance of getting at least $1,000,000. Picking both will get them $1,000 but only gets them the $1,000,000 if the Predictor predicted wrong. And they have no idea if it will get it wrong. Picking just B only gets them $1,000,000 if the Predictor predicted correctly. And they have no idea if it will get it right.

In the actual world, a person playing the game with the Predictor would be in the position of the players in the role-playing game: she does not know how likely it is that the Predictor will get it right. If she believes that the Predictor will probably get it wrong, then she should take both. If she thinks it will get it right, she should take just B. Since she cannot pick randomly (in Nozick’s scenario B is empty if the player decides by chance), that option is not available. As such, Newcomb’s Paradox is an epistemic problem: the player does not know the accuracy of the predictions but if she did, she would know how to pick. But, if it is known (or just assumed) the Predictor is infallible or almost always right, then taking B is the smart choice (in general, unless the person absolutely must have $1,000). To the degree that the Predictor can be wrong, taking both becomes the smarter choice (if the Predictor is always wrong, taking both is the best choice). So, there seems to be no paradox here. Unless I have it wrong, which I certainly do.

 

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