by David Kordahl

Many of the best historical movies featuring “hard” scientists have used social problems, rather than than scientific controversies, to propel their action.¹ Two recently released films that address the legacy of Nikola Tesla reverse this trend. The Current War, a plummy costume drama whose planned 2017 distribution was delayed by the Harvey Weinstein scandals, mainly addresses the famously public feud between Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse. But at its heart is the question of whether the future of electrical power would run on direct current (DC) or alternating current (AC), a debate that Tesla’s polyphase AC generators eventually won. And the newly released Tesla, a formalist exercise in the postmodern style, takes Tesla’s story farther, leading viewers into his controversial work on wireless power transmission, work that, depending on which parts of the Internet you ask, was either awesomely visionary or deeply confused.

Nikola Tesla (1856-1943) was a truly odd person, the only scientist whose name a hair band and a car company might both want to borrow. It isn’t hard to figure out what has made him a mainstay of popular culture. Had Tesla merely been an inventor of genius, he might have been remembered only by engineers. But Tesla was also an entertainer. My Inventions, a compilation of Tesla’s scattered popular writing, includes many quotes that sound openly anti-scientific. In between his anecdotes about curing personal ailments with his mind and an exposition of his law of compensation (“true rewards are ever in proportion to the labor and sacrifices made”), here’s how Tesla described his method of invention:

When I get an idea I start at once building it up in my imagination. I change the construction, make improvements and operate the device in my mind. It is absolutely immaterial to me whether I run my turbine in thought or test it in my shop. […] When I have gone so far as to embody in the invention every possible improvement I can think of and see no fault anywhere, I put into concrete form this final product of my brain. Invariably my device works as I conceived that it should, and experiment comes out exactly as I planned it.

For a person of sufficient genius applying solidly established scientific principles, this method might work. But where the empirical principles haven’t been firmly established, this seems like a pretty bad method, and Tesla’s later explorations, which pushed ever farther into questions of basic science, were increasingly unfruitful, perhaps as a result of this. Read more »

by Paul Orlando

Two days after the 2016 presidential election I turned one day of my normal university classes into a history of recent presidential campaigns. I looked at a few of the more famous moments from campaigns of the previous 50 years, none of which the students knew.

If you’re reading 3QD you probably know these moments. But you might also want to remind yourself that not everyone does, especially if they have not lived through them. If it’s a help, here is a short list that you might send others who are interested.

The 1960 Kennedy – Nixon debate

Before this debate even begins, the first thing you might notice is the way JFK sits. He crosses his legs. He’s also in a dark suit against a light background. He is also the better looking of the two candidates. Nixon, on the other hand, sits with both feet awkwardly on the floor and can’t find a place for his hands.

As a televised debate — and the first ever — these things unfortunately matter.

The next thing you might notice is that the moderator announces that there will be opening statements of eight minutes. Eight minutes! (And JFK only used about seven). And while it was not stated, there were to be no interruptions. This, after all, was formal debating. If you watch the debate, the striking thing is how different that style now seems.

Presidential candidates didn’t debate on television again until the 1976 campaign. Read more »

by Tim Sommers

There’s something wrong with the sentence, “This sentence is false.” Is it true or false? Well, if it’s true, then it’s false. But then if it’s false, it’s true. And so on. This is the simplest, most straightforward version of the “Liar’s Paradox”. It’s at least two thousand five hundred years old and well-known enough that you can buy the t-shirt on Amazon.com.

I’ve been thinking about the “Liar’s Paradox” lately, because I’m teaching an “Introduction to Philosophy” class on paradoxes (and writing a book) called “Life’s a Puzzle: Philosophy’s Greatest Paradoxes, Thought-Experiments, Counter-Intuitive Arguments, and Counter-Examples from AI to Zeno”. It starts with the “Liar’s Paradox” because it’s one of the oldest and most well-known, but also simplest and most daunting, of philosophical paradoxes. Some people think that while “puzzle” cases in philosophy are fun and showy, they are not where the real action is. I think every real philosophical puzzle is a window onto a mystery. And proposed solutions to that mystery are samples of the variety and possibilities of philosophy.

So, let’s start with this. Why is it called the “Liar’s Paradox”? Let’s go to the Christian Bible for that one, specifically, “St. Paul’s Letter to Titus” (Ch. 1, verses 12-14)

“They must be silenced, because they are disrupting whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach – and that for the sake of filthy lucre.¹² One of Crete’s own prophets has said it: ‘Cretans are always liars, evil brutes, lazy gluttons.’¹³ This statement is true.¹⁴”

Verse 12 has philosophers dead to rights. We are disrupting whole households, teaching things we ought not to teach and – speaking for myself at least – it’s all about the filthy lucre (hence, the book). But verse 13 is what we want here. It has “Cretan’s own prophet” saying “Cretans are always liars.” Now, if that just means that all Cretans lie a lot, but not all the time, there’s no problem. But if it means that Cretans are always lying whenever they speak, given that this is asserted by a Cretan (read: liar), we have a paradox. This then is the primordial, liar’s version of the “Liar’s Paradox”. If that’s unclear you can simplify the liar’s version down to: “I am lying right now.” Read more »

by Brooks Riley

by Adele Wilby

Donald Trump’s presidency has generated a greater than normal interest in American politics, but not necessarily for the right reasons. How, people wondered, could such a poorly qualified candidate, and, as we have seen over the years, of equally poor calibre possibly become the President of the United States and leader of the ‘free’ world?

Events over recent days have added to that curiosity, not least his performance during the Presidential debate on 29 September. Moreover, his refusal to endorse a peaceful transition of power should he lose the presidential race in November in 2016, is troubling enough, but equally, and arguably of greater concern, are the recent revelations surrounding Trump’s business dealings and tax returns.  That a man of such purported wealth has not paid taxes for ten to fifteen years or has paid just 750 dollars since he assumed office in 2016, is not only outrageous, but is substantial evidence to raise legitimate concern about the integrity of the man sitting in the White House. Furthermore, given the business losses he is said to have incurred suggests that Trump is not the savvy businessman that he likes to portray to his base and the public, but rather is incompetent and reckless with finances: he is neither honest nor  a safe pair of hands with the national economy. Worrying also are the suggestions that he has used his office for financial gain. His tax returns confirm what his reluctance to reveal them has always implied: they have been worked in such a way to his financial benefit and exempted him from paying the amount of tax equivalent to his wealth, of not paying his required contribution to the national purse.

Theories abound to account for the support that Trump has enjoyed  and continues to enjoy: the emasculation of white working class men; his appeal to sections of white women voters; his criticism of  globalisation and his commitment to bring jobs home again; a rejection  of a liberal political elite that dominates US politics; anti-immigrant sentiments; a dislike of America’s contribution and participation in international institutions such as NATO and the United Nations; nationalism,  to name a few. There are also arguments that critically examine the problems with the American Constitution and democracy, and here I refer to the way the Electoral College works to allow the individual with the least number of popular votes to assume the office of President.

Each of these theories has its own credibility as an explanation to account for Trump’s appeal and electoral success in 2016. However, considering Trump’s track record over the past four years, many people scratch their heads in disbelief as to how he became the uncontested Republican candidate for the forthcoming presidential elections. Surely his record and behaviour would deter the American public from even considering him as a potential President. Read more »

by Sabyn Javeri Jillani

Sometimes it’s the anatomical heart, a muscle the size of a fist, pumping furiously to keep us alive, at other times it is the beating of the metaphorical heart that leads us astray. Fact or fiction, real or symbolic, the heart is central to the story of our lives. The heart is what connects us, what leads us, or misleads us. Heartbreaks, heartaches, heart to hearts, heartening and heartfelt, the heart is central to our emotions, and to our bodies. Although its bodily function is often underplayed in place of its emotional one, be it art, literature, cinema or even emojis. Like most people, I too had grown up associating the heart with recklessness, with spontaneity and intuition, and with love and sorrow rather than stability and strength.

And so when I recently went through a melancholic time in my life, I thought of myself as heartbroken. Little did I know that heartbreak could manifest itself medically too. For the last few days, every time I felt aggrieved, I felt my heart slam against my chest as if it was trying to break free of the hollow cavity that contained it. At other times when I felt anxious, my heart too felt overwhelmed as the world was closing in on me. Every time I thought of the anguish, I felt as if my heart was folding in on itself and sinking towards my stomach. At other times when the heartbreaking thought of losing someone I loved became too much to bear, I felt as if my heart was splitting in two, my pulse slowing down, my palms becoming cold. Read more »

Somewhere over the South Tyrol near the Swiss border, twelve minutes after taking off from Verona in October of 2017.

by Pranab Bardhan

In my earlier column, “Prospects of Social Democracy in a Post-Pandemic World” I did not have the time or space to discuss some systemic issues, like the fraught link of social democracy to the capitalist mode of production. Different people mean different things when they talk of social democracy and its somewhat close kin, democratic socialism. I usually associate the former with the mode of production remaining essentially capitalist, though with some important modifications, and the latter with the case where the ownership or control of the means of production is primarily with non-private entities (the state or cooperatives or worker-managed enterprises). In this sense Bernie Sanders and his followers wrongly describe themselves as democratic socialists, to me they are social democrats.

In social democracy those important modifications to the capitalist mode of production may involve some substantial reform in the governance of the firm and in the fiscal power of the democratic state to raise taxes to fund a significant expansion of redistributive and infrastructure programs. Yet these modifications will remain constrained by what used to be called the ‘structural dependence’ on private capital. How far that structural limit can be pushed will vary with a country’s institutional history, political culture, and social norms. Much will depend on how far the modifications of capitalism can leave unhampered the mechanism of productivity growth and innovation, which Schumpeter considered the engine of capitalist dynamics. Is there a magic balance achievable under social democracy? This will be central to my discussion in this article, as I often find that my social-democratic and democratic-socialist friends do not pay adequate attention to the question of innovations. I shall also comment on the need for significant reforms in the financial system, labor market policy and election funding for a social democracy to function properly, Read more »

by Joan Harvey

“Asked in an interview with Alex Jones, the far-right conspiracy theorist, what Trump should do against Democrats who “think they can steal” the election, Roger Stone — a close confidant of the president whose 40-month prison sentence for witness tampering and lying to Congress was commuted by Trump earlier this year — said that “the ballots in Nevada on election night should be seized by federal marshals and taken from the state” because “they are completely corrupted.” He also urged the president to declare “martial law” and invoke the Insurrection Act to arrest political opponents.” —Jamelle Bouie, “Trump’s Perverse Campaign Strategy” New York Times, September 15

“In case you didn’t notice, we’re being governed by armed thugs, criminals and traitors, who would as readily shoot you as spare you if it serves their purposes. This election is your last chance to save yourself and your family. Trust me, I’m not exaggerating. Not even a bit.” —Laurence Tribe @tribelaw on Twitter September 14

“I cannot speak with my voice, so I speak with my voices.” —Alejandra Pizarnik “Cornerstone” from A Musical Hell

Already Trump supporters are outside at the polls harassing voters. Like their president, they must know that without violence, intimidation, and voter suppression on their part, their candidate doesn’t have a chance. We’re more than a month out from the election but already the mob rule we’ve been expecting has begun. Trump says he may issue an executive order preventing Biden from being elected. And he is making a big issue about voter fraud (which is almost nonexistent) while at the same time suggesting people vote twice, no doubt in order to create voter fraud so he can blame that if he loses.

The despotism and desperation of this administration is very much out in the open, and his followers either approve of it or don’t care. An increasingly likely outcome to this election is that most Democrats, sanely not wanting to expose themselves to Covid-19 and harassment at the polls, will vote by mail, while Republicans will go in person to the polls. The mail-in ballots won’t be counted by election eve by states unaccustomed to mail-in voting (and could possibly be sabotaged by state officials who want a delay). Trump will declare victory that night, will be backed by the courts, and the actual result will not matter. Read more »

Imagine This

unlikely thing
shaped like a dish

saucer moonspan wide in nightsky
laden with milk for a cat

still and perfectly crisp
who’s ever less than that
and ever more than this

sun up moon scats

have you noticed that in a miraculous way
fully backed by science, truth, even in the dark,
will always stare you down regardless
of how you may hate a fact?

Jim Culleny
4/1/15

by N. Gabriel Martin

Is it still possible today, in the age of widespread and outlandish conspiracy theories, algorithmically induced filter-bubbles, and bullshitting demagogues, a generation after the US Republican party adopted a strategy of unprincipled obstructionism to anything that their democratic counterparts proposed, to believe that reason has a place in politics? When we are so polarised that finding any relevant common ground with our opponents at all is a far-fetched notion, it seems naive to think that it is still possible to move politics by making good arguments. If that were true, then there would be nothing more to politics than might making right. However, pessimism about political reason is only partially justified. While our ability to resolve political disagreements using reason is in crisis, other aspects of public debate are more vital than they have been in generations.

In the aftermath of the breakdown of the political consensus that dominated the broadcast era and persisted for a while into the internet age it is hard to be credulous about resolving disagreement by appealing to opponents’ reason. It’s not possible today, as it once was, to appeal to a common ground of faith in political and cultural institutions in order to bring opponents over to one’s side. The fragmentation and polarisation of the media landscape, contests over the validity of governmental institutions (such as the courts or elections) previously widely considered neutral, and denial of the credibility of experts have left us without much common ground. That’s true, even though we still share many beliefs and values. Politicians and commentators from across the political spectrum talk about the same values, such as democracy, freedom, and life, but on their own, without shared institutions to provide a common understanding of what threatens and what nurtures those values, shared values themselves are too hollow to help us resolve conflicts. The current battle over the legitimacy of the election shows how defence of a grand and nebulous value like democracy can be claimed by either side. Without trust in the expertise and neutrality of institutions, it is impossible for most of us to determine which purported threats to democracy are real and which are fake. Read more »

by Charlie Huenemann

H. G. Wells’ novella, The Time Machine, traces the evolutionary results of a severely unequal society. The Traveller journeys not just to the year 2000 or 5000, but all the way to the year 802,701, where he witnesses the long-term evolutionary consequences of Victorian inequality.

The human race has evolved into two distinct species. The first one we encounter is the Eloi, a population of large-eyed and fair-haired children who are loving and gentle, but otherwise pretty much useless. They flit from distraction to distraction and feed upon juicy fruits that fall from the trees. “I never met people more indolent or more easily fatigued,” observes the Traveller. “A queer thing I soon discovered about my little hosts, and that was their lack of interest. They would come to me with eager cries of astonishment, like children, but, like children they would soon stop examining me, and wander away after some other toy.”

The Traveller is an adventurous explorer in the mold of Richard Francis Burton or Henry Walter Bates, so he is eager to begin theorizing about how the Eloi came to such a state. He is struck by the fact that the Eloi are nearly androgynous, and he thinks that both this fact and their docility must have resulted from a life in which there is no need for struggle. Read more »

by Peter Wells

“A man has been arrested in connection with the toppling of a statue of slave trader Edward Colston. A bronze memorial to the 17th Century slave merchant was torn down in Bristol during a Black Lives Matter protest on 7 June and was dumped in the harbour” (BBC, 1 July 2020).

Here is a poem by the current Poet Laureate of the UK, Simon Armitage. It takes the form of a ‘eulogy’ upon an imaginary man of a previous generation. As in a funeral, it lists the ‘achievements’ of the deceased, but includes, unlike a normal funeral oration, his failures:

And if it snowed and snow covered the drive
he took a spade and tossed it to one side.
And always tucked his daughter up at night
And slippered* her the one time that she lied. [hit her with a slipper]

And every week he tipped up* half his wage. [handed over]
And what he didn’t spend each week he saved.
And praised his wife for every meal she made.
And once, for laughing, punched her in the face.

And for his mum he hired a private nurse.
And every Sunday taxied her to church.
And he blubbed* when she went from bad to worse. [sobbed]
And twice he lifted ten quid* from her purse.  [stole £10]

Here’s how they rated* him when they looked back: [evaluated]
sometimes he did this, sometimes he did that.

To summarise, for most of his life this nameless man was a model householder, father, husband and son, but he erred at least four times – once by spanking his daughter, once by punching his wife, and twice by stealing from his mother. In English lessons for 16-year-olds in the 90s this poem created an interesting polarisation. Half the class (mainly the boys) thought the man was basically OK, whereas the other half (mainly the girls) thought he was a monster – for, after all, he was a child-abuser, a wife-beater, and a thief (and all his victims were female).

In other words, all the students (not just the girls) fell into the trap set by Armitage, by allowing one side of the man’s story to trump the other. The boys (wrongly) insisted that his misdeeds were minor and irrelevant, considering his generally blameless life, whereas the girls, equally wrongly, thought that the four bad actions nullified all his good deeds. This clever little poem neatly illustrates the difficulty of judging (‘rating’) people, even when they are fictitious. We should not ‘judge’ people, not just because Jesus is said to have forbidden it (Matthew 7.1), but because it is wrong in principle and impossible in practice.

We can only judge actions. Read more »

by Brooks Riley

The two photos show rows of the same apple orchard in the hills above Franzensfeste, South Tyrol. The top photo showing the apple blossoms was taken in late April, 2020, while the bottom one is from late September. The apples will be picked any day now.