Shadow of the A22 Autobahn (a four lane highway) as it passes over the Stausee (a lake formed by a dam on the river Eisack) in Franzensfeste, South Tyrol, on the longest day of the year. I was taking a short pre-lunch walk and shot this photo at noon.
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by Adele A. Wilby
The Paradise, Pandora and Panama Papers, exposing secret offshore accounts in global tax havens, will be familiar to many. They are central to the work of economic sociology professor, Brooke Harrington. She has spent many years researching the ultra-wealthy and several books on the subject have been the result. Her latest book Offshore: Stealth Wealth and the New Colonialism is a continuation of her research; it focuses on ‘the system’, the professional enablers who support and advise the ultra-wealthy and make it possible for them to store and conceal their phenomenal fortunes in secret offshore accounts.
Offshore accounts should be of interest to everyone, particularly because any discussion of offshore finance is inevitably qualified by the word ‘secret’. As Harrington argues, the reasons are clear: secrecy ‘confers impunity: freedom from accountability, both to social norms and the law. Offshore ‘secrecy havens’ make it possible for some corporations, and a small group of individuals – including the world’s approximately three thousand billionaires – to escape constraints the rest of us take for granted. Freedom from taxation is just the beginning’. Offshore wealth allows the super-rich to live in what some economists refer to as ‘fiscal paradise’, a ‘transcendent plane of existence’, beyond the norms, rules and regulations that govern society.
To convey the staggering scale of offshore finance, Harrington cites the Berkely economist Gabriel Zucman: an end of 2022 estimate puts the sum of an astounding $12 trillion in private household wealth hidden in offshore accounts, roughly 12 per cent of all the wealth produced in the world that year, an amount, Harrington points out, that is a ‘central feature of the world economy’. To make sense of ‘the economic and political inequality spiralling out of control worldwide’ access to the secretive world of offshore finance was crucial and she went to remarkable lengths to do so. Read more »
by Malcolm Murray
When it comes to AI, or even worse, “AGI”, we are facing a crisis of language. Different people use the terms to mean drastically different things. This is deeply unhelpful for productive debate. This point was hammered home to me several times this week. On LinkedIn, I debated appropriate risk management techniques for AI with a professor, and it turned out we were talking about very different kinds of AI. In New York, the proposed RAISE act made the A16Z lobbying army, fresh from its bloody victories in the California legislature, reload its weapons, despite the two sides talking about very different kinds of AI.
AI, as the current buzzword, is an extremely big tent and in effect a screen on to which people project their distinct hopes and fears. To make some progress in the AI debate, we should separate AI into its different archetypes. I believe there are at least five: Tool AI, Robot AI, Oracle AI, Golem AI and Agent AI, and they are all distinct, with different lineages and different purposes. Let’s examine each in turn.
First, there is Tool AI. Its lineage can be traced to big data, the buzzword in the business world in the early 2010s. This is the AI we have had for more than a decade, the AI that gets advertised in B2B SaaS solutions. It is AI as a prediction engine, deployed in the Amazon storefront to recommend your next purchase. This is AI in the TikTok feed, optimizing content for your engagement. It is statistics, but statistics on steroids. This is the type of AI for which VC firms like Andreessen Horwitz (A16Z) are techno-optimists and that can lead to large productivity increases for companies. It is a complement to humans, not a substitute.
Second, there is Robot AI. Its lineage includes the first use of the word robot, in the Czech play R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots) in 1920, and Robotic Process Automation (RPA), a buzzword in the business world in the late 2010s. This signifies a machine that can automate and therefore replace a hitherto human-conducted process, whether analog or digital. Since the Industrial Revolution, repetitive factory processes have become automated. Instead of the human, blue-collar worker picking up the product to be manufactured and painted, say, the machine does it. More recently, we are seeing digital processes, on computer systems, also becoming possible to automate. Instead of the human, white-collar worker picking up the piece of data from one database and pasting it in another, the machine does it. This is also an AI that the A16Zs of the world would approve of, that can lead to large-scale productivity enhancements. At the same time, this is a type of AI that politicians worry about, since it will inevitably lead to job losses, as it is a substitute to humans rather than a complement. Read more »
Sughra Raza. Light Tricks, Seattle, March, 2022.
Digital photograph.
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Hello Readers and Writers,
We received a large number of submissions of sample essays in our search for new columnists. Most of them were excellent and it was very hard deciding whom to accept and whom not to. If you did not get selected, it does not at all mean that we didn’t like what you sent; we just have a limited number of slots and also sometimes we have too many people who want to write about the same subject. Today we welcome to 3QD the following persons, in alphabetical order by last name:
I will be in touch with all of you in the next days to schedule a start date. The “3QD Magazine” page will be updated with short bios and photographs of the new writers on or before the day they start.
Thanks to all of the people who sent samples of writing to us. It was a pleasure to read them all. Congratulations to the new writers!
Best wishes,
Abbas
by Rachel Robison-Greene
Earlier this month, “No Kings” protests set records for being among the most well attended political protests in recorded American history. The protests were overwhelmingly peaceful. On the same day, a politically motivated killer shot two Democratic politicians and their spouses in Minnesota, killing two and critically wounding the others. Despite the facts being presented regarding all of these events, conspiracy theories quickly spread. Reports circulated that cities in which protests were held were on fire. Politicians took to Twitter to spread conspiracy theories about the shootings. Before all the details were known, Utah’s senior senator Mike Lee took to Twitter to blame the violence on “Marxists.”
The tendency to believe what one hopes is true rather than what is supported by the evidence is far from a new trend in American politics. One might even think it has become its most distinguishing feature. In recent years, conspiracy theories have emerged about the pandemic, vaccines, climate change, and the security of the 2020 election, to name just a few. All of this flies in the face of our ordinary, idealistic attitudes about how people form beliefs. The idea that humans form beliefs and come to know truths through reviewing evidence and applying reliable reasoning practices is an enduring post-Enlightenment concept. Recent events demonstrate that it’s not that helpful for understanding how human beings actually think. Our everyday reasoning may be more grounded in social connectedness and personal insecurity than we ordinarily like to believe. Read more »
“The best evidence we have suggests that early Earth was completely
covered by oceans… (but) to link two amino acids together to make a
protein, you have to remove water. And that would have been impossible
if the amino acids were immersed in an ocean. Life needed some land—
literally a beachhead—to get started.” —geobiologist, Joseph Kirschvink
Though landbound we were once tiny ships,
submarines, we understand the sea, it undulates
within-around us. Minds bob on timeswells,
are swept by winds that tear and grind us.
Not flawlessly designed, we have weak
moments in our hulls.
Tempted, we run perilously close to rocky spits,
each of us adrift looking for a beachhead,
longing for a place that’s still while everything
around us shifts.
As with Noah’s searching dove
we scan for an isle of earth
where sea is parted
. ..where past is dead
…. ..where present sits
…… …where life and love
….. …….can be restarted
by Jim Culleny
6/19/15-Rev,-6/14/25
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I have been thinking about artificial intelligence and its implications for most of my adult life. In the mid-1970s I conducted research in computational semantics which I used in analyzing Shakespeare’s famous Sonnet 129, “Th’ Expense of Spirit.” In the summer of 1981 I participated in a NASA study investigating ways to incorporate AI in NASA operations and missions. There I learned about an earlier NASA study that had looked into creating self-replicating factories on the moon.
“Wow,” thought I to myself, “does that mean potentially infinite ROI?” How so? “Well, it’s going to cost a lot to develop the initial equipment drop and transport it to the moon, but once that’s been done, and those self-replicating factories and amortized the initial investment, it’s all profit from that point on.” That is, since the factories can replicate themselves without further investment from earth, we can reap the profits from whatever it is that these factories produce, other than more factories.
Now, whether or not that’s actually possible, that’s another question. But it was an interesting fantasy. That’s how AI is, it breeds giddy fantasies in those who catch the bug.
Somewhat later, and in a more sober mood, David Hays and I argued, “Sooner or later we will create a technology capable of doing what, heretofore, only we could.” We also pointed out that “We still do, and forever will, put souls into things we cannot understand, and project onto them our own hostility and sexuality, and so forth.”
There’s plenty of that going around these days. There’s a raft of AI hype that’s been floating around since ChatGPT’s release in late November of 2022. One prominent strain is telling us that we are doomed to be eradicated by an over-ambitious AI. I’m quite sure that that is projective fantasy.
Alas, the threat of massive economic displacement seems far more real to me, and more worrying. Jobs will be lost to AI – it’s already happening, no? – and, while new jobs will be created, it does seem to me that in the long run, job loss will inevitably outpace job creation. That should be a good thing, no? To live among material abundance without the drudgery of soul-destroying work, isn’t that something to be welcomed? In the long run, yes, but in the short and mid-term, no, it is not. We are not ready. We have become addicted to work, at least in the advanced world, and will have trouble adjusting to life without it.
That’s my topic for this column. Read more »
by Eric Feigenbaum
At about 6:30 am, we pulled up to the Labor Ready office in the Central District. My friend – who for the sake of this column will be called Rick – and I were responding to a trespassing call: a woman who was asked to leave the day-labor agency office was refusing.
Now to be clear, I wasn’t a cop – but Rick was and when I would return to Seattle on a break from working in Singapore – the best way to spend time with him was to go on a “ride along”. To make it work better, Rick told people I was a plain clothes officer. To mitigate risk, I spoke little and appeared stoic.
We entered the Labor Ready office, prepared to find an altercation in progress, only to discover a 30ish, short, heavy-set Filipina lady standing in the waiting area talking to herself. The staff told us they had asked her to leave, but she didn’t really seem to understand them.
Rick asked the woman if she could follow him outside and she complied. Through the din of voices in her head, she was able to answer most of Rick’s questions – although not always accurately. We were able to ascertain the woman thought she was Princess Diana, but also had some sense she was reporting for a day-labor assignment. She was aware she wasn’t quite right and articulated that she needed medication – only she had run out and couldn’t afford more.
Protocol said Rick should have issued the woman a Trespassing Card and sent her on her way. That didn’t feel like the right thing to do for this very nice woman clearly struggling with her mental health and trying to make a living. Alternatively, he could have gone heavy and decided to arrest her for trespassing – another path to medication, only through the jail’s healthcare system. But then she would have an arrest on her record and been imprisoned for doing nothing more than talking to herself. Read more »
by Shadab Zeest Hashmi
The first teacup I use as a child is not for tea but milk which is boiled and mixed with sugar. I blow on it to watch the steam disperse and the cream float. The teacup is Russian. This is just before the Soviet war begins in Afghanistan and America lionizes the Mujahideen, the future fathers of the would-be war orphans otherwise known as the Taliban.
By the time I begin college in America, the Soviet Union fades and the Mujahideen are already darlings of the past, but I hear the story of Stalin that will forever stay with me:
Stalin at the dinner table pets a live chicken whose feathers he plucks feather by feather, demonstrating how, as the chicken becomes colder and weaker, it hovers more desperately around his hand, the only source of warmth. Bloodied and in pain, it follows the trail of the few grains of feed tossed its way.
An image to relive in a time when I see nothing but a pile of feathers and humanity desperate for survival. It is June of 2025. The trail of blood will be obvious to the reader; it follows the trail of fuel, weapons, data, and global capitalism. Read more »
by Jeroen Bouterse
I have been re-reading Paradise Lost, prompted by the battle between Immortals and demons in the movie Ne Zha 2. The film, if you have not seen it, depicts a ruling party turned into a vehicle for the personal ambitions of its leader. If you ask me, that is; consider yourself warned that I am rather strongly disposed these days to connect everything to contemporary politics.
Paradise Lost provides a temptation in that regard, however you read it. Whether the poem explores forms of resistance after the battle to depose a ruthless dictator has been lost, or whether Satan is an opportunistic agitator, campaigning on draining the swamp but in fact only out to be worshipped himself – or both – modern analogies easily suggest themselves. William Empson compared Milton’s God to Joseph Stalin.[1] If I don’t name names, it is out of respect both for you the reader and for the heroes in Milton’s poem, which are more eloquent, less petty, and show more depth than their present-day authoritarian counterparts.
Still, Milton’s account of the Fall allows us to psychologize. We can indulge in the belief that if people had chosen better, we wouldn’t have been in such a mess right now. I think that should be fun for both of us, or cathartic for me at least. In any case, I am telling you in advance, so that if you continue reading, you don’t “pretend / Surprisal, unadmonished, unforewarned”.[2] Read more »
by Marie Snyder
Attachment theory is part of the vernacular now. Even the Norwegian show Porni mentions it, and the dramatic eldest daughter blames her mom for her “relational damage”! We’ve largely accepted the questionable idea that mom’s attentiveness in childhood creates our attachment patterns for life — the gist of the theory as it’s largely understood, but what’s usefully generalizable from the actual studies? There are many criticisms of the theory, yet some university psych courses applaud it without reservation. I’m dubious about it, but I also don’t want to entirely throw this baby out with the bathwater.
This is a huge topic, and I’ll hardly do it justice here. There are a few excellent books on it, but part of the problem with how we understand the studies might be that the most nuanced books seem to be the most academically written, and likely the least read. As it morphed into popular consumption it may have strayed further from the original intention. On top of the reading, I went to a couple workshops on attachment to find the magic solution to all our relationship ills, and my big takeaway is this (for free!): if you’re a bit distant, consider being open to getting closer, and if you’re a bit clingy, try to step back a bit. It’s good advice to notice and change patterns that are a problem, absolutely, but I’m not sure it merits the number of workshops, courses, and self-help books that it’s provoked. At worst, some books actually counsel people to avoid any “avoidant or disordered people” as if there’s no saving them from their dastardly origins. Therapeutic discussions of childhood misconnections definitely have helped people better understand themselves, but I think this theory produces such volumes of celebration and condemnation because, in difficult relationships, it feels like the answer, but to parents, it feels like blame. Read more »
by Akim Reinhardt
Donald Trump is a con man. He was that for a very long time before he entered politics. Because he is a con man, it is tempting for critics to describe his presidential victories as successful cons. However, I think that interpretation does not hold up. Because while Trump at his essence may be little more than a sociopathic con man lacking a sophisticated and flexible inferiority, voters and citizens are not simply “marks.” The electorate, especially one as large as the United States’ (over 73 million registered voters), is maddeningly complex. It reflects a stunning amount of views, ideals, fears, and nuance. And the catch is that while the elected government can never hope to fully reflect this complexity, it can unduly influence it.
We become what we set out to destroy. It’s an old chestnut. Oh, the irony of becoming the thing we hate as we dedicate ourselves to its destruction. But for now I am more concerned with a different irony: we become what sets out to destroy us. That we sometimes are buffaloed into thinking our enemy is our friend, mistaking their sneer for a smile, emulating them, falling into their arms, and ultimately doing their bidding. Something like Stockholm Syndrome, perhaps, but even darker, manifested though through thorny seduction instead of hostage taking, and offering little chance for redemption. At best there will be regret, and at worst a permanent transformation.
Why do you end up loving someone who hates you? Because you already hated someone. Read more »
by Angela Starita
Teddy lives in two houses. They’re equally bereft of taste–good or bad. Teddy’s a dog and his nominal doghouse is inside the house of his owner, Jonathan. It’s built inside the closet under a stairway, with its entrance, the side facing Jonathan’s living room, covered in pale rusticated stone.
Jonathan calls it “the world’s most famous doghouse.” In interviews on feel-good segments of news shows, he refers to Teddy as “the world’s most famous dog” and explains that he himself is “blessed with a creative mind.” This last is in reference to the scenarios he dreams up for TikTok videos that feature Teddy as a Rabelaisian prankster interested only in buying toys and treats with Jonathan’s credit card, watching movies, and playing video games. He spends an inordinate amount of time on a couch.
It’s Teddy’s house that launched him to fame. Jonathan had been making DIY construction videos, and the one that garnered the most views was the closet-to-doghouse conversion. It had hit some collective nerve, the one that delights in miniatures and accounts for the popularity of dollhouses and children’s beauty pageants. Its fitted with a couch, shelves for photos a copy of PlayDog, and a television over a faux fireplace. My favorite of the videos has Jonathan crawling inside for Teddy-hosted sleepovers.
In the two years I’ve been watching Teddy videos, the mise en scene has moved from the doghouse to what I presume is Jonathan’s actual house, a place as scared of distinction as the model home developers “stage” for potential buyers—sparsely furnished in off-whites with names like Chantilly Lace and White Dove. Predictably, the first floor is an open-plan centered around a beige sectional sofa facing a high-definition television. Occasionally there are shots of a dining “area” and, in a behind-the-scenes video, Jonathan shows off his home gym, a room with a treadmill and other equipment. He and Teddy sometimes watch movies in the “home theater” a room with swollen, black recliners presumably facing an even larger screen. Read more »
On a sunny and cloudless day last week, the smoke from Canadian wildfires arrived in the South Tyrolean Alps in the form of this unusual haze. Photo taken from my balcony.
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by Mark R. DeLong
In February, after a month-long consideration, I set my New Year’s resolutions into a five-by-five grid. I made a BINGO card—twenty-four resolutions plus the FREE space. It was my attempt to gamify the whole tired resolution process that I’ve failed at so well. Surprisingly the trick seems to have worked, at least partially.
One of my BINGO New Year’s resolutions was to write more letters. In fact, that was the first thing I thought of when I compiled my list and so it occupies under the “B”, one (to use BINGO-caller’s lingo). Activities have implications, I told myself, and “doing stuff teaches habits that transcend the things you do. Sure, some of my items look to-do-ish, but they can also lead to virtues.” That message headed up a post entitled “The Fate of Letters,” and I now wonder whether there was some subtle prognostication in the works.
Letter writing has begun to teach me some things.
“One thing about your letter,” someone told me “it’s so hard to read your handwriting.” He was referring to my handwritten note to North Carolina’s US Senator Thom Tillis, written as the new administration was winding up the wrecking ball and Congress sat in the bleachers, silently watching. “In the Senator’s office,” he continued, “they’d not bother to read it, I’m afraid.” (I was glad to have provided my readers a transcript.) And it is true, my handwriting is bad but not illegible. Scores of students have trudged through my comments squeezed into margins and in closing notes on their papers. Only occasionally have I had to “translate.”
Three of my recent letter recipients have commented (not exactly complained) about my writing, too. One, a physician, admitted his handwriting was about as scrawly and awful as mine. Another commented, “It was a pleasure to decipher your handwriting—not as bad as mine but a challenge nonetheless.” Even in a bewilderment of inky swirls and stabs, some readers were able to find a certain pleasure.
Another recipient sent me a postcard response, which he labelled a “test of the Emergency Handwriting System.” Read more »
by Daniel Gauss
In the context of growing concern about educational equity, the persistent racial disparities associated with the Specialized High School Admissions Test in New York City continue to spark debate. As cities and school systems nationwide reconsider the role of standardized testing, the story of the origins of this test shed light on how deeply embedded policies can appear neutral while, in reality, reinforcing inequality.
Both New York City’s civil service exam of the 1930s and the admissions test to New York City’s elite public high schools (the SHSAT) originated from a need to eliminate favoritism and political influence in acceptance policy. Both exams led to significant racial disparities. The civil service exam was reformed and government employment became more inclusive by the early 1970s, but no meaningful attempt has been made to make such adjustments in regard to the specialized high schools.
There can be no doubt that there have been lingering and chronic racial disparities at New York City’s elite and publicly-funded specialized schools following the adoption of the SHSAT. Numbers from 2024 show that Black students comprised just 4.5% of offer recipients, rising slightly from 3% in Fall 2023, but remaining far below their population percentage in the public school system (20.2%). Latinx students saw an increase to 7.6% of offers (up from 6.7%) but this still shows a major underrepresentation compared to their 28.3% share.
On the other hand, Asian students received around 52% of offers (while making up about 15% of the public school system), and White students received about 26% (while comprising about 16% of the system); together, White and Asian students accounted for roughly 78% of acceptances (Chalkbeat, June 18, 2024). These figures reflect a persistent demographic imbalance over decades.
So how did we get here? Read more »
by Jerry Cayford
I was always attracted to that old dichotomy: people must be either stupid or lying when they claim to believe some obvious falsehood. This dichotomy is a staple of Democratic theorizing about our political culture. (Sometimes the choice is between stupid and evil, which amounts to the same.) For example, Adam-Troy Castro’s social media classic “Why Do Liberals Think Trump Supporters Are Stupid?” has been circulating since halfway through Trump’s first term. But this simple dichotomy is losing its appeal. It is just not plausible that tens of millions of ordinary Republicans—our neighbors, friends, and families—are stupid or evil. There have been many proposed explanations of this puzzle: information siloes hide the obvious from otherwise intelligent people; tribalism exerts a powerful evolutionary draw. I believe, though, that there is a different and hidden complexity here.
I use the word “complexity” deliberately, because my argument draws on one of the icons of chaos theory (aka complexity theory) known as the “Coastline Paradox.” That name refers to a 1967 paper, “How Long Is the Coast of Britain?” by one of the pioneers of chaos theory, Benoit Mandelbrot. James Gleick provides a quick introduction to the topic in “The Man Who Reshaped Geometry” (1985), and a thorough treatment in his book Chaos: Making a New Science (1987). But the Coastline Paradox itself is easy to understand.
Imagine you measure the coast of Britain by putting markers every ten miles and summing the distances between them. You get a certain result. If you put markers every mile, you get a larger result. Measure the coast with a yardstick: longer still. With an inch ruler: longer. The coast will continue to get longer as you trace it around ever-smaller irregularities, around every grain of sand. So, how long is the coast? As Gleick says in his article, “In fact, it depends on the length of your ruler. As the scale becomes finer and finer, bays and peninsulas reveal new subbays and subpeninsulas, and the length—truly—increases without limit, at least down to atomic scales.” In a sense, physical length does not exist. Or, physical lengths are all infinite. Or, better, length depends on your method of measuring.
Examining length gives us a glimpse into a new picture of how the things we say and believe relate to reality. Read more »
