A METAPHYSICAL DEBATE BY BLOG
My friend Tom Reasoner has just started a blog, and I made a comment on his first post, which I thought I'd post here too:

First, on AI: You claim that it is already "laid to rest" that AI is possible. From what I've read (admittedly I am no great connossieur of the subject), I had the opposite impression, namely that even some influential voices from the materialist side of the aisle had put forward potent arguments against the possibility of AI. Personally, I am convinced that computers can never be a path to AI (at least not in the interesting or meaningful sense of the word), because their mechanical "intelligence" is incommensurable with human intelligence. They can digitally record the what but they can never understand the why.

I should return here to the parenthetical remark here about the "interesting or meaningful sense" of artificial intelligence. To speak of "intelligence" is to get off on the wrong track. Scientific materialists are using the word "intelligence" to describe what sets human beings apart from the world, but this is a very misleading description: what sets human beings apart is that they have souls; that they have consciences, and are ineradicably creatures subject, and who feel themselves to be subject, to an ethical law, and yet they can (and constantly do) break it. One manifestation of this supernatural character of human beings is that they have an introspective, privileged access to logic and mathematics, "the language in which God has written the universe," as Galileo said, and this faculty is mostly what scientists and scientific materialists have in mind when they use the word "intelligence." This of course can be simulated. But computers cannot and never will be able to properly use language, a human faculty that gives much fuller expression to our "intelligence," or, to put it more fully, the intuitive, ethical, aesthetic, and ultimately supernatural element that sets apart the human being.

About faith: As a religious person, I have struggled to understand the notion of "faith" over the years. I was raised among Mormons, who define faith as "a desire to believe;" in their case, the desire becomes strong enough that they manage to believe some pretty absurd things. If this is faith, it is a bad thing, like a scientist who beings an experiment with an outcome in mind before hand; his prejudice may bias the results (and in Mormons' case, it certainly does).

I don't think faith has to mean (as you are assuming here) an unexamined, a priori belief. It may mean (what is somewhat similar but ultimately different) that in life, there are moments when the soul attains greater and lesser insight, and that in moments of lesser insight, moments when one feels confused or depressed or uncertain, one should remember what one saw and believed in better times, and cling to those believes in a somewhat "dogmatic" fashion. But this is only a temporary expedient, until one manages to dispel the confusion and depression; sooner or later, when one feels calm and confident again, one should re-examine these beliefs and try to come to terms with, to synthesize new experiences and perhaps adjust, re-interpret, expand or correct one's core beliefs.

Where I find the meaning of the word "faith" is at the end of an argument by Thomas Hume (an 18th-century Scotsman): the disproof of inductive reasoning. Deductive reasoning refers to simple, dry logic, e.g. "(1) All men are mortal. (2) Socrates is a man. (3) Therefore, Socrates is mortal." We can probably agree that statement (3) follows from statements (1) and (2). But statements (1) and (2) could never be discovered through deduction. How can we know that "all men are mortal." By "experience," you may say-- everyone dies sooner or later-- but the way we learn from experience is induction. We anticipate that if the sun has risen every day until now, it will continue to do so. We anticipate that if gravity has bound us to the ground our whole lives, it will continue to do so. We will not suddenly become weightless and start floating off into space. There is order. The world follows patterns. If we observe a pattern, we anticipate that it will continue. This is inductive reasoning, and the vast majority of beliefs that we hold and live by, including all of natural science, are based on it.

But why should we trust inductive reasoning? As Hume argues, inductive reasoning makes sense only on the assumption that the world follows patterns (or "laws"). But how can we know that it follows patterns. We cannot say that "we know the world follows patterns because we have observed in the past that it follows patterns," because this is another step of induction, which assumes that the world follows patterns-- circularity. It seems that rationalist rigor is forcing us to end up by stating: "I have no evidence that the world follows patterns at all. If you ask me, will the sun rise tomorrow, my only answer must be: 'I have no information about that whatsoever.'" Surely this is madness!

We believe there is order, that there are patterns, that there is natural law. This belief seems to be indelibly written in our souls, so that even to question it (as Hume invites us to do) seems surreal, impossible, and insane. Faith is the belief, prior to reasoning, that there is order in the world, and in that sense it is a condition of sanity. At this point, faith has not yet acquired a specifically religious connotation (that comes at a further stage of development) but that is where it begins.

ALL THEY NEED IS LOVE
I was just reading The Right Nation, a book about the Republicans and the Right in America, and something occurred to me. Republicans have the upper hand in the war of ideas. This is masked by institutional inertia-- universities and a lot of Big Media outlets lean far to the left of the mainstream-- and by the supercilious myopia of much of the knowledge class, but is nevertheless reflected in the country's long-term drift to the right. A politician as intelligent as Bill Clinton, for example, has imbibed conservative ideas, not only about the market but about social responsibility and family (despite his personal life.) Free-market economics is theoretically and practically superior to communism. Religion refuses to see itself as refuted, and is now staging a comeback, partly because it can address and understand central questions relevant to the soul in a way that liberalism and secular humanism cannot. And in foreign policy, the main event of the last half of the 20th century was the fall of communism, a spectacular vindication of a worldview that haled from the right and was personified in Reagan.

Yet conservatism tends to be tainted by resentment. Liberals stereotype this as hatred: conservatives (according to them) hate blacks, hate gays, hate atheists, hate foreigners, hate Arabs, and of course hate liberals. Why should conservatism be identified with resentment? The free market should be innocent of resentment, except perhaps against regulatory red tape. And Christianity, more than any other creed in history, is centered around and founded on love, exhorting love without any limits-- "Love your enemies and pray for them that despitefully use you." Yet for no good reason this brew of resentment and paranoia continues to run in the veins of the Right (though not in Bush, as far as I can tell).

Thus, a message to conservatives: The war of ideas is mostly won. All you need is love. Love should be a habit, second nature, a litmus test for every policy: can this be justified in terms of universal love? That's what it takes to really be the good guys.

SHOULD WE GIVE THE EUROPEAN CONSTITUTION A CHANCE?
The constitution was finally agreed on and signed. I don't know what to think about this, but for the moment I guess I'll welcome it. Of course, I haven't read the constitution, but Britain protected its "red lines," and the way the voters rejected the Constitution in the polls last week makes the thing seem less threatening. I'm not against the EU lock, stock and barrel. I'm the kind of Euroskeptic who thinks that more integration is not needed. Maybe this constitution can turn out to be a ceiling on integration.

If I were Bush, I would use my diplomatic leverage to support the EU Constitution. I would talk to the Poles first, send a message something like this:

"I admire Poland and I'm very proud that Poland is a US ally. Poland is a country with a romantic history, glorious in its way. Yet Poland has historically lacked a certain tactical prudence. Passion tends to blind Poland to certain dangers, and rob it of the prudence to take care of its long-term self-interest. Thus the Polish constitution in the 1600s and 1700s was admirably consultative and even democratic, yet it made them easy prey for the Russians. The Poles' greatest military victory was a battle against the Turks in [I think] 1683, when they saved Vienna. The Poles did a great service for Christendom, but the empire they saved would soon join the Russians and Prussians in devouring them. Again, in the 1930s, the Poles made hardly any effort to prepare for a stand against Hitler. They even collaborated with Hitler in breaking up Czechoslovakia, and then refused Russian help, thus undermining British and French efforts to save them. In the end, the Poles fought against the Nazis with a fantastic valor which no one else in Europe would display until Churchill. But what was the use of it then? Poland is always one of the good guys, and brave and principled, but a bit too romantic.

"I fear the same thing is happening now. The Poles may be right that the European Union has a certain amount of sinister potential, and there are reasons to be skeptical about it. But by voting down this treaty, Poland risks alienating other powers and isolating itself, particularly if they do so on the basis of voting rights, where their resistance is so obviously self-interested. We fear that Poland may be making the same mistakes that characterize so much of its valiant, romantic, baleful history.

"We are deeply proud that the Poles have honored us by fighting at our side in Iraq. Once again, the Poles have shown exemplary courage and self-sacrifice in the noble cause of their time. We dearly hope that now that Poland is an American ally their history will become happier. The choice is Poland's, of course, and no decision of the Polish people will jeopardize our friendship with them. But we hope that Poland votes for the EU constitution."

Having talked to the Poles, the Bush administration could then turn to the British. Bush could side with Blair in supporting the constitution. How would this take, in the eyes of British public opinion? Bush is not well-liked, of course, and the strategy could "backfire," if some Britons were less inclined to vote for the constitution because of his support. But I suspect that the types of British who would vote against the Constitution are the types who might take advice from Bush.

What's in it for America? In my opinion, the threat to America comes not from the EU per se (what are they going to do, go to war with us?) but from fiercely hostile public opinion which in turn reinforces anti-Americanism elsewhere in the world. Also, if the US helped to bring the constitution into force, Eurocrats might soften their opposition to the US.

Best-case scenario: the EU constitution passes with US support, then, shortly afterwards, Schroeder is defeated in a landslide in Germany, and Angela Merkel, leader of the Christian Democrats, who hales from the East, and who supported the war in Iraq and even went to Washington and met with Cheney and Rumsfeld to prove it, becomes the Chancellor of Germany, and immediately changes tack in foreign policy, from pro-French to pro-American. She tackles reforms and the German economy revives, pulling other European economies upwards along with it. People start talking about the EU as the "Fourth Reich."

In that case, I wouldn't mind at all if the euro replaced the dollar as the world's reserve currency.

A MODEST PROPOSAL
Should we negotiate with al-Qaeda? I know, it sounds crazy, but think about it. Suppose we made an open invitation to bin Laden and al-Qaeda to negotiate, something like this:

"For the past decade and more you have waged war on us; for the past three years we have responded by waging war on you. We fight because there are values which we will not surrender. But the war has also had great costs for many, many people. Many have been killed, some people have seen freedoms taken away, and the whole world has lived in increased fear. We certainly deny, and wish to emphasize our denial, that you speak for all Muslims or for true Islam, and we believe that far more Muslims reject than accept your message. However, we also recognize that tens of millions of Muslims probably do accept you as, more or less, their spokesman. Perhaps no basis for peace between us can be found, but we would like, at the least, to ascertain what your demands are, and what might be done so that this bloodshed can cease, and the world may enjoy peace."

What would bin Laden do? He might reject our appeal, claiming it was in bad faith. We could then keep making it, with as much eloquence as we could muster. If it looked like we wanted peace and he wanted war, it seems like this would improve our reputation in the eyes of the world.

If he responded to our demands, what would his response be? If he said, "Embrace Islam, bow before Allah, and submit to the caliphate," we would say no, explain why, ask him to lower his demands. If he said "Withdraw from Iraq, withdraw from Saudi Arabia, stop supporting Israel," we could say: we are withdrawing from Saudi Arabia, in Iraq we stay only at the invitation of the Iraqi government, and what do you plan to do to Israel when we stop defending it?

Negotiation is very hard for terrorists. Leaders will compromise, their followers will feel betrayed, the movement loses its cohesion and its potency. It worked with the IRA! (Well, sort of.)

I'm for it. We look strong now, so we're in a good position to negotiate.

WHO HAS THE SMARTER ECONOMIC MODEL?
America or Europe? Well, my answer is: Neither. American capitalism, with its labor market flexibility, its embrace of free markets and competition, its entrepreneurial dynamism, has proven the more efficient engine of growth and opportunity in recent years. I applaud the US's welfare reform, and even if we're harsh about letting people in, we embrace them once they're here to a degree that Europeans don't. But I prefer the EU's urban model, with higher concentration and more public transit: among other things, that's why Americans are so fond of studying abroad and living in Europe when they get the chance. Why can't we create cities like that here? Yes, there's no substitute for one or two thousand years of architectural heritage, but we could invest more in beautifying our city centers, and in public transit rather than highways. Both the collectivism of the Europeans and the individualism of Americans are sometimes economically inefficient.

If only we could mingle the two. Hong Kong does, maybe, and it's an absolutely fantastic city!

ON EUROPE
I've been very critical of "the Europeans" on this blog. A few words to put this in context.

Europe is a fascinating and beautiful continent-- much more so, frankly, than North America. There are only two art forms in which Americans have made the leading contribution: music (pop, rock, jazz) and film. In architecture, painting, novels, poetry, classical music, sculpture, etc. the Europeans are far more interesting. The same goes for most intellectual disciplines, such as philosophy.

As a history aficionado, I'm enamored of Europe and its history, of the fantastic variety of polities and personalities that fill the corridors of Europe's past, of all that has been believed and achieved among the many nations of that marvel-producing peninsula of the Afro-Eurasian land mass.

Americans sometimes claim that anti-Americanism appears because foreigners envy our wealth and power. I'm ready to admit that my anti-Europeanism is partly because I envy the Europeans, getting to live amidst all of that marvellous history, those richly storied lands, which have left behind such a beautiful architectural and cultural legacy. I don't like American cities half as well as European ones. And I'd probably jump at the chance to live in Europe if I could. I can't, because non-EU citizens face restrictions on their right to work in Europe, but in this respect America is (unfortunately) equally guilty.

But I have a lot of doubts about Europe's present trajectory. Their welfare states are unsustainable (though America's Social Security program is little better), their agricultural subsidies are a disgrace (America is guilty here but not quite as much), the rise of racism and anti-immigrant populism is disturbing, and on the other hand I don't like the EU much: democratic deficit is an inevitable result of an ideologically driven leadership to pursue the "European" project whether the people like it or not. Europe is on the wrong track in a whole lot of ways.

NIALL FERGUSON AND THE AMERICAN EMPIRE
Another reason I feel I can let this go is that my need to fight the madness is somewhat reduced, thanks to Niall Ferguson. This fine British historian's new book, Colossus, takes on the issue of American "empire" in a pretty favorable light, with huge historical depth. It makes sense, it has integrity and wisdom...

Reading Ferguson's book was, for me, like the moment when a drowning man's feet find solid ground beneath him. This blog was like the drowning man thrashing, trying to keep his head above the waters of madness that threatened to engulf him. Now that my feet have found a place to stand, the thrashing can stop.

We have the misfortune to live in an age which, despite (or perhaps even-- who knows?-- because of!) unprecedented material prosperity and freedom in the world, the state of discourse, of opinion, of academia, is peculiarly perverse and deranged. A certain point that Ferguson makes is useful as a litmus test: he declares decolonization a "failure." More often than not, after the colonialists left, law unraveled, there was dictatorship, despotism, destitution, famines and civil wars and so on. In a healthy climate of discourse, Ferguson's point, given its overwhelming factual basis, would be broadly accepted, almost a truism. Instead, only a small "right-wing" fringe can bring themselves to say it-- indeed, Ferguson is almost the only one.

Yet perhaps what I am even more grateful to Ferguson for is that he convincingly denies American exceptionalism. America is an empire like so many others before it, he seems to say, certain, like all empires, having its own unique, particular characteristics, but also much in common. This was reassuring somehow; at any rate, it makes you feel less alone.

The war in Iraq struck me like a revelation, the way many young people at the time of the French Revolution were fired up and inspired. I was passionate about defending and extending the Iraq model. Now it seems just another chapter in history. And we are not the first to suffer a prevalent madness. Voltaire and his fellow philosophes found themselves in a similar condition.

HEADED FOR BLOGGING RETIREMENT
I had given up writing this altogether for almost a month, when a couple of people recently mentioned to me that they still visit it. So I thought I should put up an explanation.

Blogging is harder than it looks, for several reasons:

1) I often write things that I'm ashamed of later.

It's hard to think aloud amidst the flux of events, to be eloquent and yet not let passion carry you to extremes that you soon become ashamed of, to keep things in perspective. I really admire guys like Andrew Sullivan who keep it up for years.

It's interesting: I often feel ashamed to remember things I've written, but when I go back and read them they're mostly all right. Even the frenzied post I wrote after Abu Ghraib, though it makes tough reading (scroll down till you see lots of capital letters shouting: "IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF SADDAM HUSSEIN WERE STILL IN POWER"), I don't regret. But to know that anyone can read these kinds of thoughts makes me feel... well, vulnerable. Anyway, the blog has this strange way of being quite untrue to my real personality. I don't know why that is.

2. Time commitment

I'm looking for a job these days and can't afford the time. A blog is an investment: you gradually accumulate readers, people get in the habit of coming to you, it takes months or years, I suppose. At this point in my life, I can't afford that.

3. Improving my writing.

Blog posts should be short, links should be abundant. But looking around for good links is time-consuming, and requires the humility to know that people don't necessarily want to read you. I know this: but I always want to write long posts anyway.