Zeroes On Zeros

The entangling of simplicities into complexities is a baffling characteristic of human existence. Observers and students of the human existence, at least every once in a while, grow depressed, frustrated, that the charts and the graphs won’t translate into hearty application. In my circles of the interwebs, someone illustrated the point by making the case, obliquely, that some social policy or other which is, by any measure, currently working, would not, in theory, work.

Oliver Sacks observed this frustration in himself, a realization that compelled him to write his astounding Awakenings book. He was a pioneer in the application of L-Dopa, a drug which had the desired effect of awakening certain patients who were suffering from catatonia as a result of the encephalitis lethargica epidemic which had beset them in the 1920s. In the 1960s, he was given the freedom to experiment on them with the drug.

At first, it was terribly exciting. The patients would awaken to great joy and fervor, but then, one by one, they preferred not to be awakened, expressing to him that being awake caused far more pain than enduring the suffering of catatonia. Some no longer responded to the drug. Sacks at first reacted by trying to dial down the dosage of L-Dopa to a minimal amount, trying to bring the patient to without the invigoration. One night, as he was using a razor blade to shave off miniscule amounts of the drug (or something like this, I do not have the book in front of me), he came to realize that he was not dealing with a scaled effect within his patient; he was turning a switch on or off. The patient was either awake and invigorated, or he was not awake at all. One or zero.

Thus, with each patient, there was a threshold, the pressure at which the switch flipped, and there was no resistor to put in the pathway to attenuate the flow of neurons through the circuit. Sacks’ research changed dramatically at this point, and his observation in this regard had a quantifiable effect on this field of study.

One of the few actual jokes of One Day At A Time has stayed with me my entire life: men have more turn-ons than a 747. That’s about right. I suspect the same is true of women. And that’s just with regard to sex.

Experimentation and Taboo

We live in a golden age of experimentation. Experimentation in technology, in business models, in ideas, in lifestyles; the long tail of each has grown very long indeed and continues to grow. If Deirdre McCloskey is right, it was the very fact that we were inspired to tinker, that old taboos were beaten back for a time, which is responsible for our present enrichment.

There is no denying, however, that experimentation has risks. Marie Curie ended up giving her life for the knowledge she was willing to acquire first-hand. The sexual revolution forced many to learn hard lessons about sexually transmitted diseases. The 20th century experiments in vast social engineering projects gave us the greatest mass murderers and mass famines in history.

Nassim Taleb is among those who believes that public morality, especially the very old and institutionalized sort, developed as a kind of risk management mechanism. In a nonlinear system, very small changes can make the difference between stability and catastrophe, just as the one last step over the edge of a cliff results in a sudden and drastic change in velocity. By Taleb’s reckoning, taboos develop to warn people away from the proverbial cliffs—cliffs which, in social and biological areas, are not visible to the naked eye the way actual cliffs are.

Some taboos categorically should not be crossed because there really are cliffs on the other side. Others can be approached, and even crossed somewhat, in exchange for a bit of knowledge—a peek into what makes them wise. Still others deserve the progressive’s scorn as mere superstition, perhaps relevant in some earlier era when the topography was different, but either way best done away with.

Here’s the trillion-dollar question: how do you tell which is which?

Take David’s latest musings for example:

On the one hand, on the free market of exchange, we learn very quickly what is prudent and what is not prudent. On the other hand, the expense for learning prudence can be very high for the individuals who become teaching moments for the rest of us, that is, contracting diseases, dying accidentally, unwanted pregnancy, etc., to speak nothing of the vast emotional world opened up in sexual activity.

I see this post as being about the middle scenario—taboos that have to be wrestled with to a certain extent before you can internalize their wisdom.

Virtue itself is like this. All of us have to find it for ourselves, to a greater or lesser extent. This unavoidably involves trial and error in the choices we make and the moral frames we operate within. Trial and error within certain parameters is almost guaranteed to be fruitful. Taboo places bounds on that process, or is supposed to. The middle-type taboos are softer bounds than the more categorical ones.

Softer because breaching them involves risk, but not certain catastrophe. Most people do not travel very far into these boundaries. As David says, some fraction of our fellow travelers into the forests of taboo are damaged by it, taking the scars with them for the rest of their lives, their bad luck serving as “teaching moments” for the rest of us.

Some venture too deep into the forest and are much less likely to come back again.

And yet others become prophets for us, blazing a trail towards real moral or material progress.

But since taboo is what provides the boundaries, it is very hard—perhaps impossible—to tell beforehand who is the prophet and who the fool or madman, who is in the funhouse and who is confronting “the historically given moral ideals of your community” in order to “wrestle with them honestly, without selfishness, in the context” of a life and the lives of those around them. Where should we seek to find wisdom and where are we likely to encounter nothing but trash?

Answering those questions, and making the answers your own, is the responsibility that comes with moral adulthood. The great virtue of an open society is that it allows more people to seek moral adulthood in their own way, a discovery process from which all of us can benefit. The great pitfall is that it leaves us vulnerable to far more cliffs.

Which side of that risk-reward equation you focus on, and whether you see both sides at all, goes a long way towards determining your political and moral predilections.

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