Astral Codex Ten

Mississippi River

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Mississippi River

Article

Mississippi River is a recurring place in the Astral Codex Ten archive, appearing 2 times across 2 issues between May 21, 2021 and June 29, 2023. The archive places it in contexts such as “Isn’t the Mississippi River a pretty big deal?”; “dump the entire Strategic Uranium Reserve in the Mississippi River”. It most often appears alongside United States, 1992 treaty, ACX.

Metadata

  • Category: Places
  • Mention count: 2
  • Issue count: 2
  • First seen: May 21, 2021
  • Last seen: June 29, 2023

Appears In

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

Your Book Review: The Accidental Superpower
May 21, 2021 · Original source
We didn’t just get tremendous economic growth though – we got “magical” results, but they were based on a one-time confluence of factors that “overwhelmed the normal rule that lots of twenty-and thirty-somethings make for an expensive-capital environment.” What were these one-time accelerants? He identifies the peace dividend – cuts in military spending that allowed capital to be put to more productive uses – as one such change, along with the emergent dominance of the US dollar, particularly boosted by Russian demand thanks to the collapse of their currency, and a later boost in demand thanks to the East Asian financial crisis. With the Europeans’ decision to eliminate national currencies (agreed upon in a 1992 treaty, with the Euro to be introduced in 1999), they became relatively unattractive, and the Euro itself (an “unprecedented experiment in pan-government planning”) was too risky. Many holders of European currencies switched to the US dollar, such that between 1994 and 2002 (“when the euro finally got some traction and the surge dialed back”) there was a $2 trillion increase in the money supply. Zeihan also points to a collapse in commodities prices influenced by the elimination of Russian demand, but continued Russian production of oil and other commodities, followed by a collapse in demand thanks to the East Asian financial crisis. This story of capital coming to the West (“allowing consumption-driven growth not simply to soar, but to explode”) is one of chance world events. However, the story of capital coming from the Boomer cohort is one of demographics. By the 2000s, they’re the mature workers of Zeihan’s four stages described above – and as the bulge in the demographic pyramid, they started flooding the world with capital. Accordingly, “The cost of credit plummeted to levels never before experienced.” Zeihan suggests that developed-world demographics are the cause of booms in places that haven’t been well-developed, from Southern Europe to Brazil, Russia, and India. But he says it’s quickly coming to an end; Boomer savings into stocks and bonds will be moving to low-risk instruments and then turning into withdrawals rather than savings, and the cohort behind them is too small to replace all of that capital. And it’s a worldwide phenomenon: In every single developed country there is currently an American-style population inversion between the about-to-retire and the about-to-be-mature-workers age groups. Japan’s Boomers bulge is a decade older than the American equivalent, while Spain’s is roughly fifteen years younger. Everyone else falls somewhere in between. It dictates a period of chronically low growth and high credit costs, just not on precisely the same time frame. The undeveloped world is that way because it can’t self-fund, so without foreign capital, their growth will come to an end. In sum, the 1990-2005 period of high growth and easy capital was a historical anomaly; “the post-Cold War financial flight was a once-in-a-generation event” and the demographic bulge that coincided with it won’t come around again for decades, if ever. 4 2: America’s incredible advantages As noted above, Zeihan really likes America’s position in the world. He likes its demographics (relative to other developed countries) and loves its geography. Taking the population question first, in America, “the demographic inversion is only a temporary development.” America is younger than the rest of the developed world, as it urbanized later and its enormous size made having kids easier despite that urbanization (i.e., the suburbs exist). This makes the demographic crunch a single-generation issue, as the Millennials are a huge cohort. And even if they weren’t, America assimilates immigrants more easily than other places – Zeihan attributes this to it being a “settler society” – which can help with demographic problems. The rest of the developed world doesn’t have similar cohorts following their massive Boomer and Gen-X analogues. Accordingly: While the American financial world will be past its period of maximum stress by 2030, for the rest of the world 2030 will simply be another year of an ever-deepening imbalance between retirees and taxpayers, with smaller and smaller generations coming up the ranks generating less and less growth. For the developed world beyond the United States—and even large portions of the developing world—chronic capital poverty and permanent recession will be the new normal from which there is no return. Together with America’s Millennial-led growth and abundant energy (there’s a chapter explaining how shale is a done deal that, as of the mid-2014 writing, already made America the world’s largest energy producer 5), by 2030 Zeihan sees it as practically the only country with an economy worth noting. Anyone who is familiar with American geography should see the argument that’s coming about that aspect of Zeihan’s model. Isn’t the Mississippi River a pretty big deal? And those oceans on the east and west coasts seem like nice borders. Indeed, while he gives us many reasons why there was always going to be an American superpower, geography is central to his story. He has lots to say about America’s internal river systems, farmland, and other geographic features. What mountain barriers exist are apparently better than in other countries in terms of allowing internal transport; the Rockies have major passes, several of which have large cities within them, and the easiest pass in the Appalachians featured America’s first National Road, 130 miles of buried logs that linked two rivers, and thus the east coast with the best farmland in the world. As we saw with his exposition on the Nile, Zeihan puts a lot of emphasis on the value of river systems. He argues that America’s waterway network alone should be sufficient for “global dominance.” The numbers he provides in support of this point are impressive. For example, “the Mississippi is only one of twelve major navigable American rivers. Collectively, all of America’s temperate-zone rivers are 14,650 miles long. China and Germany each have about 2,000 miles, France about 1,000. The entirety of the Arab world has but 120.” He praises US barrier islands that mitigate oceanic destruction and effectively create another river system, as well as the fact that the river system is an actual network. All of this gives America more internal waterways than the rest of the world combined. Thus, we get cheap transportation for “Nebraska corn or Tennessee whiskey or Texas oil or New Jersey steel or Georgia peaches or Michigan cars,” enabling savings that “can be used for whatever Americans (or their government) want, from iPhones to aircraft carrier battle groups.” America doesn’t have to spend on artificial infrastructure, like German roads and rails, but when it does, the competition from the rivers keeps transport costs low. Cheap internal transportation has other benefits. “It’s a recipe for small government and high levels of entrepreneurship,” as small government keeps taxes low, leaving people with plenty of capital. Some people may think of the American consumer with disdain, but it isn’t a new phenomenon. Zeihan points out that America has been the world’s largest consumer market “since shortly after the Civil War.” His observation about a robust food supply forming the base of any civilization bodes well for America, which apparently has the largest connected stretch of quality farmland in the world (the Midwest), the value of which is exponentially increased by the fact that it overlaps with so many of these amazing river systems. It isn’t just the Midwest that he gushes over. California’s Central Valley and the Sacramento River, and Washington and Oregon’s farmland with the Columbia and Snake Rivers get praise. The only major farmland more than 150 miles from a navigable waterway is some of the Great Plains near the Rockies. ***** Zeihan provides a reminder that national security is actually a thing, and that at its most basic level, it’s about protection against invasions. It was something of a shock reading about America’s land borders in that context. “As Santa Anna discovered during the Texas Independence War, there is no good staging location in (contemporary) Mexican territory that could strike at American lands.” And, “Canada’s border with the United States is much longer, more varied, and even more successful at keeping the two countries separated,” thanks to mountains and thick forests over much of it. The mid-continent lands are much more connected, but Zeihan frames these Canadian areas as basically American; they’re physically separated from Canada’s core eastern provinces, so trade with them is weaker than with the closer American states. Then there are the oceans. As much as Zeihan loves deserts for protection, he loves oceans more (particularly in a post-World War II world; more on that below). We get a story about the War of 1812 nearly splitting America into three when the British attacked Baltimore. America learned about “strategic vulnerability and sea approaches,” as the attack “on Baltimore—indeed, the entire war effort—would have been impossible without launching grounds in Canada and the Caribbean.” American foreign policy since then can be understood with respect to this lesson. Zeihan cites it as inspiration for America’s steps to make its ocean borders truly impenetrable, such as working to sever Canada from Britain, and the imperial-era acquisitions of Alaska, Hawaii, Midway, Puerto Rico, and de facto control of Cuba (preventing enemies from cutting off Mississippi River-based trade from the rest of the world). There’s more to Zeihan’s being awestruck by America than his analysis of its balance of transport advantages. He argues that America has been the world leader for agriculture, technology, finance, and industry since the Civil War, and runs through a litany of reasons for its preeminence: America is like a continent-sized island (because of its effective land borders), which is always going to be a more natural naval power than a more landlocked country.
Inline links: 4, 5
Sure, Whatever, Let's Try Another Contra Caplan On Mental Illness
June 29, 2023 · Original source
Left: my position. Right: my position, “rounded off” to Caplan'’s position In particular, he claims I am FORCED to either accept that all mental illnesses are just “preferences” and so not illnesses at all, or as posited in a response by Emil Kierkegaard, that homosexuality is a mental illness and therefore bad. You will not be surprised to learn that I don’t think of myself as secretly admitting this, or forced into doing anything. II. Bryan mentions how I have already addressed his fork with a much more in-detail discussion of how we classify something as a disease or not at this link, to which I would add this post as fleshing out the same framework. Put simply, declaring something a “disease” is a complex category-boundary-drawing issue that combines facts and values, just like all category-boundary-drawing issues. I said that it’s a political question whether or not you classify homosexuality as an illness. Caplan thinks of this as some sort of incredibly deep concession. But it’s a political question whether or not to classify any condition, including physical conditions, as illnesses. It’s just that the political question is usually very easy. This shouldn’t be surprising - most political questions are easy! “Should we set every tree in the United States on fire, then dump the entire Strategic Uranium Reserve in the Mississippi River?” - this is a political question, in the sense that you could propose it for a vote and people would have to form an opinion on it. It doesn’t show up on C-SPAN because it doesn’t satisfy anybody’s values. It’s a political fight where one side has a constituency of zero. In the same way, “is cancer a disease?” is a political question. Maybe cancer makes you cough up blood and die. Basically everyone is against this, so it’s easy to condemn it and agree that doing it is worse than not doing it. If for some reason there were some strong political constituency in favor of coughing up blood and dying, who thought were were unfairly stigmatizing this wonderful prosocial activity, then we would have to have a political fight about it. This fight would have to involve comparing values (eg being against death) rather than comparing facts (eg cancer is caused by a mutation in such and such a gene).1 (see also: The Tails Coming Apart As Metaphor For Life and Ambijectivity. Categories often contain a simple region where they operate perfectly and where it would be perverse to consider them a political question even though they sort of are, and a more complex region where they start to break down and we have to agree on some final border) Is Down Syndrome a disease? It often causes poor health and low IQ; I’m pretty against both of these things, so I would say yes. Still, there are a bunch of people who argue it isn’t, maybe because they don’t care what your health or IQ is, or because they think stigmatizes Down Syndrome patients. I think these people are wrong, but only in the same way that I think people who support the Russian invasion of Ukraine, or who hate free speech, are wrong: they have bad values, they’re against human flourishing, they’re on the wrong side of a political question. Is depression an illness? It causes you to be miserable and not be able to do most of the things you want to do. Same story. I can’t imagine anyone being in favor of this, and I hope there’s a broad base of support to continue classifying it as an illness - but it’s a value judgment. Caplan says okay, maybe sometimes in some ways the category boundary drawing is hard, but he proposes a bright-line rule: No preference is a disease. No matter how bizarre or horrible (or common or wonderful). Diseases are constraints, not preferences. Part of my frustration with Caplan is that I feel like I have proven this constraint/preference distinction incoherent and misleading again and again over the course of our “debate” and he’s never responded. He just keeps saying “but the constraint/preference distinction!” For the sake of completeness, I’ll give my summary of what he thinks the distinction is, plus four of what I consider to be the strongest counterarguments. My interpretation of Bryan’s theory (I’m putting this in a quote block to specify I’m devil’s-advocating it, but this is my summary and not his): If we think like behaviorists, all we can really see about mental illnesses are unusual behaviors. For example, a depressed person stays in bed all day and doesn’t work. An alcoholic drinks himself to death. A psychotic person runs out in the street naked claiming to be God. These seem like choices. You can imagine the depressed person choosing to throw parties and work hard instead. You can imagine the alcoholic choosing to throw out his beer and never drinking again. You can imagine the psychotic person choosing to put on his clothes and act normally. In fact, if you put a gun to the alcoholic’s head and threatened to shoot him if he ever drank again, probably he would stop drinking. Therefore, we should model these conditions as unusual preferences/choices, not as diseases. The hallmark of a disease is a constraint, something you cannot “choose” to overcome, something you couldn’t overcome even with a gun to your head. For example, a paralyzed person cannot choose to walk no matter how hard she wants to, or how dire the consequences for not walking. Therefore, paralysis is an unusual constraint, and depression is an unusual preference. We may choose (for political reasons) to stigmatize certain unusual preferences. Maybe the people who have them will choose (for signaling reasons) to cooperate in their own stigmatization. But realistically these are just completely voluntary preferences. If we don’t like them, we should ask the people who have them to choose differently, instead of treating them as diseased. My counterarguments: — 1: Counterargument From Physical Illness, Part I The simple preference/constraint model clearly doesn’t describe mental illness very well. But it’s actually much worse than that. It doesn’t even describe physical illness. Consider a migraine. If we think like behaviorists, all we can really say about migraines is that someone locks themselves in a dark room, clutches their head, and says “oww oww oww” a lot. If we put a gun to a migraneur’s head and threatened to kill them if they didn’t go to a loud party, they would grudgingly go to the party. So clearly (says a hypothetical version of Caplan, whose answers I must rely on because the real Caplan has never addressed this objection) migraine headaches are a preference, not a disease! Some people just like locking themselves in dark rooms, clutching their head, and saying “oww oww oww” a lot! If other people call this a “disorder”, they’re choosing to stigmatize migraineurs; if migraineurs agree it’s a disorder, they’re just trying to escape responsibility for their antisocial choices. You could say the same about many - maybe most - physical diseases. Why not say that chronic pain is just a preference for grimacing a lot? That itchy rashes are just a preference for scratching yourself a lot? That colds are just a preference for lying in bed and blowing your nose a lot? (I believe most people with colds could get up, go to work, and avoid blowing their noses, if their lives depended on it). Or we could stop thinking like behaviorists, a philosophy which nobody has taken seriously since the 1970s. Once we agree that people are allowed to have internal states, and that the rest of us are allowed to acknowledge those internal states, the paradox disappears. We can agree that the essence of migraine headaches is pain, especially pain in response to strong sensations. The essence of itchy rashes is a feeling of itchiness, which is relieved when we scratch it. The essence of colds is feeling unwell and ugh and wanting to stay in bed and having unpleasant congestion in your nasal passages. None of these particularly change your preferences. Both I (never had a migraine) and the average migraineur have a preference for not having our head be in terrible pain. But the migraineur needs to avoid bright lights in order to satisfy this preference, and I don’t. So she very reasonably avoids bright lights. Once we’ve admitted this, it’s natural to also admit that depression involves negative emotions and low energy, that alcoholism involves a craving to drink alcohol, and that psychosis involves disturbed reasoning processes which make running out in the street naked claiming to be God seem like a good idea (all with other preferences intact). This is more parsimonious than Caplan’s theory, better matches the testimony of the mentally and physically ill themselves, and doesn’t require the mentally ill to be running some 4D-chess-style network of lies (such that actually the psychotic person’s reasoning is completely normal and they’ve just managed to perfectly trick everyone into thinking that it isn’t and tell a perfectly consistent story all the time and stick with their deception even when it presents an extreme threat to their life and freedom). — 2: Counterargument From Gradients Preferences and constraints naturally shade into each other. Let me give three examples. Example 1: I am a mediocre runner, able to run about 5 km before getting tired and stopping. One day, at exactly the 5 km mark, a demon appears before me, and says it will kill me unless I run another 1 km. I’m pretty upset by this, but I gather all my willpower, try really hard, and manage to run another 1 km. Then the demon appears again and says haha, I was just joking last time, but now I’ll really kill you if you don’t run another 1 km. For some reason I’m gullible, I believe it, and even though I am in extreme pain I make a herculean effort and run another 1 km. Again the demon appears and makes the same threat, and this time I say sorry, I really can’t run another inch, guess I’ll die. The demon says okay, new threat, it will kill me and my entire family horribly if I don’t run another 0.1 km, but give me $1 million if I do. I call upon some kind of reserve of courage worthy of the heroes of old, put one foot in front of the other, and make it a final 0.1 km before stopping. Again, the demon says haha, fooled you, you need to run another 0.1 km. I try this, collapse, and await my impending death. Do we argue that I had a simple preference again running 6, 7, and 7.1 km, but that my inability to run 7.2 km was a true constraint? It seems obvious that my difficulty running 7.1 km is of the same type as my difficulty running 7.2 km, and it just passed some threshold where I couldn’t do it anymore no matter how much it mattered. Example 2: The demon puts a dimmer switch on my leg nerves. When it’s at 100%, I have totally normal movement. When it’s at 0%, I’m paralyzed from the waist down. At 25%, I can sort of kind of walk in extreme pain. The demon threatens to kill me unless I succeed, so I shamble a short distance. Then the demon turns the switch down to 24% and threatens me again; I try my best, but fail. I think Caplan would have to say that at every level up to 25%, I simply have a preference against walking, which is fine and voluntary and my own fault and not a disease in any way. Then at 24%, it suddenly becomes a constraint inflicted on me by an outside agency and which I deserve sympathy for. Instead, I would rather describe things that make an action difficult and unpleasant as in some sense real constraints. When the dimmer switch is at 25%, I have an external constraint making walking difficult and unpleasant, although I can overcome this and do it anyway with a strong enough incentive. When the switch is at 24%, it’s become so difficult that no incentive can make me do it. There’s no qualitative boundary, just a quantitative one. Example 3: Try to hold your breath as long as you can (please don’t go overboard and hold it so long you pass out). If your experience is like mine, at each moment you’ll feel like - given a slight exercise of willpower - you could choose to hold your breath one more second if you so desired. But if your experience is like mine, you will also find that no amount of love or money could make you hold your breath successfully for (let’s say) three minutes.2 Is there a point where not wanting to hold your breath any longer switches from a preference to a constraint? Or have you discovered a place, in the dark moments just before suffocation, where these concepts lose all meaning? — 3: Counterargument From Physical Illness, Part II Caplan claims that mental illnesses involve preferences and physical illnesses involve constraints. But a second’s thought reveals this is not actually true, even if you accept the whole preference-constraint dichotomy Consider cancer. Cancer involves some constraints; for example, it might kill you, and you cannot choose to live instead, even if someone put a gun to your head and demanded it3. But until that happens, it mostly looks like preferences. People with cancer might stay in bed, saying they feel too sick and weak to get up and do things. But if you threatened them with a gun, they could probably get up and do things. People with cancer might refuse to eat, saying they feel too nauseous and have no appetite. But if you threatened them with a gun, they could probably get down some food. Meanwhile, plenty of mental illnesses include constraints. One of the diagnostic criteria for depression is cognitive and memory problems; people with these problems cannot choose to remember things better, even with a gun to their head. Many people with psychosis cannot speak or reason normally, even if you put a gun to their head and ask them how a healthy person would answer a question. People having panic attacks cannot choose to have a normal heartbeat, or to stop shaking or sweating. Depression and anxiety are both associated with insomnia; try to will yourself to sleep and you’ll sleep less, not more. Both physical and mental illnesses are complex bundles of preferences and constraints, which shouldn’t be surprising given that preference vs. constraint is an oversimplified distinction that breaks down outside its legitimate domain. — 4: Counter-Argument From The Gun-To-The-Head Test Actually Not Working A depressed person may not be able to get out of bed or live a normal life. This might get so bad that they decide to commit suicide by shooting themselves in the head. Confronted with a choice between living a normal life, or a gunshot to the head, they have chosen the gunshot4. It appears that they have passed the gun-to-the-head test that Caplan loves so much. I feel bad including this one, because Caplan can fairly object that this is just another preference. Maybe depressed people completely voluntarily choose to lie in bed for a few years while falsely claiming to be miserable and then shoot themselves in the head, and all of this is a perfectly free choice that they are happy with. I cannot disprove this, only point out how unparsimonious it is. Maybe a better example is when a psychotic person attacks the cops, the cops order him to stop or else they’ll shoot him, the psychotic person continues attacking them (eg because he believes he’s invincible) and then the police go ahead and shoot him. Again, Caplan could say that this is just a preference for attacking cops and then being killed. But in that case he should stop touting the “gun to the head test” as meaningful. Rather, he should admit that his theory is completely unfalsifiable - no matter what actions a mentally ill person does, what tests they pass or fail, he can just say they had a preference for doing whatever they did. In fact, at this point I don’t see why he even has to acknowledge the existence of constraints at all. One might as well claim that a paralyzed person could walk if they wanted, but chooses not to. III. I think Caplan is groping towards something like the following criticism: Suppose we simplify depression to “person lies in bed and doesn’t do anything all day”. Caplan’s model treats this as “depressed person has preference to lie in bed”. My model treats this as “depressed person has an abnormal mental/emotional/motivational state that makes it difficult and unpleasant for them to not lie in bed”. Now we consider a gay person. Caplan’s model treats this as “person has a preference to be gay”. Wouldn’t my model have to treat this as . . . person has abnormal mental/emotional/motivational state that makes it difficult and unpleasant for them to be heterosexual? In some sense this is true. We could imagine some very religious man from the 1950s who really wants to be straight, marry a woman, and raise a family. But due to some hormonal disturbance, he feels a very strong urge to have sex with men. How is this different from (let’s say) depression-secondary-to-hypothyroidism, where some person really wants to live a normal life, but instead, due to a hormonal disturbance, feels unable to do anything but lie in bed? It doesn’t seem that different to me. It also doesn’t seem that different from a straight guy who wishes he were gay (maybe for LGBTQ cred, or because it would make it much easier to find partners) but feels a very strong urge to have sex with women. So does that mean that depression is “just a preference”? I don’t think so, because none of these scenarios seem that different from the person with the migraine either! I think the preference/constraint dichotomy is a bad way to think about about this whole class of things. I think all of the following things shade into each other: A migraine. You could think of this as a preference for sitting in a dark room and saying “ow ow ow” - or as an internal state of head pain.
Inline links: as posited in a response by Emil Kierkegaard, this link, this post, 1, The Tails Coming Apart As Metaphor For Life, Ambijectivity, 2, 3, you’ll sleep, 4