Review: The Giving Tree

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As she was packing, I stood off to the side, mostly watching. Supposedly, I was there to help with heavy items, but she kept going through the lightest things, and all I could do was just stand by awkwardly and keep her company.

It was weird, I guess, listening to her troubles. Her husband isn't exactly the greatest guy out there, but she feels stuck in her life with him because of the child. Their little girl requires special care, and it would be extremely difficult to do what is best for her if they were to separate.

But then, in between bringing up another horror story of the worst kind, she pauses, having noticed a book--_the_ book. El Arbol Generoso (in English: 'The Giving Tree'). It is a few moments before she remembers me.

"Eric," she finally begins, "this book is my mantra. This book is who I _am_, and I want you to read it." With that, she hands the book over to me.

I am momentarily dazed. The book is in spanish, yet I speak the language only very poorly. But I open the book anyway. After all, it is a children's book with lots of big pictures. Maybe I'll be able to muddle through it.

Those next few minutes made me _feel_. Oh, how I felt. I was unable to rush through it, because I had to translate as best as I could with my limited spanish. Every sentence--every word--had full effect on me. It tore at my heart, made me cry, yet also it was so very beautiful that I felt I was soiling it with my hands as I turned each page.

I did not deserve to read that book. Not then. Not there. But I did anyway. And it was amazing.

When she saw how moved the book made me, she gave me the book on the spot. I tried to refuse, but she insisted. It was one of the top five gifts of my entire life.

Today, El Arbol Generoso holds a place of honor on my desk at work. It stands between my phone and my computer monitor, accompanied only by a few photos of those I love most. My other books rest on a bookshelf, but Shel Silverstein's masterpiece is displayed prominently to remind me each day of true beauty.

If you haven't read The Giving Tree, then you need to. But don't just flip through it at a bookstore. Take it home with you and wait until the time is right. And take your time with each page. Believe me: it will be worth it.

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Consequentialist Ethics in an Infinite Universe

A Consequentialist Argument for Weighted Consideration of Interests
or: How an Infinite Universe Affects Consequentialist Ethics
A common argument against consequentialist ethics is the empirical fact that most persons seem to place more weight on the consideration of interests of those they know than on those they don't. While not fatal, it is true that most consequentialists tend to regard as a fundamental premise the idea that all persons deserving of consideration should receive equal consideration; thus when one points out that, in practice, most persons choose to regard the consideration of interests for friends and family as of higher importance than the consideration of interests for strangers or others outside their sphere of knowledge, the dedicated consequentialist usually has to retort by maintaining that 'true ethics is not decided by popular vote', or that it is merely a biological and psychological necessity that humans can only intensely relate with ~150 other persons, but that this should not have anything to do with how one should act.
However, I believe that a different counterargument can be raised: that the consequentialist position may in fact _necessitate_ that a person give extra weight to the consideration of interests of those they know more closely. While this new argument relies on a few extreme conditions that cannot yet be verified scientifically, I nevertheless believe that it will soon become clear to the reader that if these conditions are allowed as premises, then this new way of looking at consequentialist ethics will be hard to dispute by resorting to weighted consideration of interest arguments.
While not all consequentialist ethics are the same, generally they all agree that in order to decide on which set of consequences is preferable, we must have a way to measure those consequences against one another. Usually this is done using units of some type; for ease of understanding, I will use 'good' units in this argument, where those consequences that have a higher cardinality of 'good' units are strictly preferable to those consequences that have a lesser cardinality of 'good' units. My reason for using mathematical terminology here will soon become plain. (A higher cardinality set means merely that there is 'more of' that set in relation to another.) I am avoiding the ordinary usage of the word 'maximize' here for two reasons: first, that there may be multiple realizations of a maximized result, and second, that there may be no maximally realized result. Again, this will become clear momentarily.
Traditionally, consequentialist ideas have been described in terms that only work with a finite number of possible consequences. For example, we may consider whether to do X or Y, where X has consequence X1, and Y has consequence Y1. Solving this conundrum consists only in comparing the cardinality of 'good' units in X1 and Y1 and determining which is greater; hence we would then choose to do the action associated with that consequence. Of course, reality is much more complicated; not only is it nearly always extremely difficult to predict consequences accurately, but the number of possible actions one may take is limited mostly by one's imagination. Nevertheless, the basic idea remains: were we able to predict the future and compare cardinalities of all possible consequences, then we would be able to choose which actions had the highest cardinality (in a finite set, at least one and as many as all may have the highest cardinality). In this finite instance, it makes sense to speak of 'maximizing' the cardinality.
But it is possible that the total set of actions one may take is not finite in number, but infinite to some degree. In this case, 'maximizing' may no longer make sense at all, since there might always be some action which produces a higher cardinality consequence than any individual action you choose. In other words, in the special case where there are an infinite number of possible actions, it may be true that there is no 'best' choice, just as there is no 'highest' number.
(It should be noted that it is possible to have a highest (single or tied) cardinality even when the number of possible actions are infinite, but it is no longer necessary as it is when the number of actions available are finite.)
But even more alarming is when you consider the possibility that the cardinality of 'good' units in total is infinite. If the total sum of 'good' units is infinite, then choosing a consequence where unjust genocide occurs (normally a net negative) or choosing a consequence where world peace comes about (normally a net positive) makes no difference at all! For if the total cardinality of 'good' is infinite, then subtracting or adding ANY finite amount, no matter how large (or even any _infinite_ amount!), makes no difference to the total amount of 'good' in the world. Mathematically, the cardinality remains unchanged.
(Before continuing this argument, I would like to address the issue of whether or not an infinite number of possible actions is possible in principle. If units in space are infinitely divisible, then obviously an infinite number of possible actions arises as a consequence. But that space is infinitely divisible is not clear; quantum physics, at least, seems to suggest that at some minimal distance, further subdivision is not possible (or at least that further subdivision does not alter observable causation). But this is not the only way that an infinite number of choices need be present. You may also have an infinite amount of space, a concept that cutting edge physics seems to think is much more plausible, whether in the form of a multiverse interpretation of quantum theory, or an infinitely expanding universe that procreates through new 'big bang's. But even if you find both of these types of infinity hard to swallow, there is also the idea that time may continue on indefinitely--even pre-Einsteinian physicists were ready and willing to believe in a steady state universe of infinite duration, and I believe most people would admit this kind of infinity into the universe even if they dismissed the other forms.
In the case of infinitely divisible partitions of matter, the first half of the above argument, relating to the irrationality of a maximal 'good' consequence, is most relevant; but the second half, regarding the concept of an infinite amount of 'good' is not possible when that universe is finite in both extent and duration. However, in the case of an infinitely large or infinitely durable universe, there may only be a finite number of possible actions one can take, but the total 'good' in universal terms may very well be infinite in extent, so the second half of the above argument applies perfectly well, while the first half of the argument does not seem to apply. Please note that for the rest of this essay, I will concentrate only on infinite extent/duration universes.)
Assuming some possibilty of extent/duration infinity in the universe, and further assuming that the total cardinality of 'good' units in the universe is infinte in amount (this is possible, I hurry to note, even if 'good' is scarce in the universe, just as primes are scarce among integers even while they are both infinite in extent), then consequentialism seems to fall apart completely. For no longer does the addition of any amount of good or ill make any difference in the total 'good'; even if you chose an action which made the universe infinitely worse off, consequentialist ethics would not be able to warn you against that choice (because infinity minus infinity is still infinity). But this seemingly insurmountable objection can be avoided in two different ways.
First, there is the psychological defense: As stated earlier, humans, for biological reasons, are capable of keeping only ~150 other persons in their world view at one time. While this makes no difference to what ethical prescriptions may be, it does mean that we are incapable of seeing the infinite extent of 'good' all at once. We instead see portions of the 'good' and can then see quantifiable results by adding to that finite amount through consequentialistically decided acts. While not affecting the total 'good', we are increasing the amount of 'good' in a given area, making it more dense in the region of our surroundings. While I am not making the argument that this means we should pay attention to the region of our surroundings while ignoring everything else, it does explain why in practice most persons act this way. It is rational for us to expect the average consequentialist to feel like she is making a difference by acting locally even while ignoring more pressing issues halfway around the world. As oxymoronic as this previously sounded, the concept of an infinite amount of 'good' makes it possible for someone to be regionally minded and rationally consequentialist at the same time.
Second, there is the mathematical defense, which is not descriptive like the psychological defense, but is rather purely prescriptive: When cardinalities are equal, we should choose that class of action which, when universally applied, has the consequence of possibly bringing about the densest amount of 'good'. This overly complex statement requires clarification.
If you were asked to choose a random integer (assuming we both understand the meaning of 'random' when used in this sense), the probability of your chosen integer being a prime number is effectively zero (assuming we both understand 'zero probability' to mean what it means when used in this sense). This is because the non-primes so overwhelm the primes on the higher end of the scale. But you'd have a fully 50% chance of your random integer being an even number. This is what is meant by 'density' here. The evens are far more dense among integers than primes are. This is true even while all three categories, integers, primes, and evens, all have the same cardinality. (While irrationals crowd out rationals among reals just as much density-wise as evens crowd primes among integers, the irrationals form a different cardinality altogether, and so do not serve as a good example here.)
So if there is an infinte amount of 'good', then while any given action will not be able to change the cardinality of 'good', there may be _classes_ of actions which, when always applied, can modify the density of that 'good'.
Classes of action make no difference in terms of cardinality: If I choose the action that brings about world peace, the cardinality of 'good' may not change, even if we chose that action based on a rule that said we should always bring about world peace when possible. In other words, even if world peace came about everywhere, at all times, the cardinality would not change. In this sense, talking about classes of actions does not help. (Infinity plus infinity is still just infinity.)
But in terms of density, classes of actions can bring about huge differences. Using that same example, if world peace came about everywhere, at all times, then, depending on the relation between constant world peace with other possible actions, that class of action of always bringing about world peace may increase the density of 'good' even while leaving the cardinality the same. Thus, we would want to take that class of action, knowing that if it is always followed, then the density of 'good' may increase.
You'll have noticed, I'm sure, that I've used the modifier 'may' here. This is because I cannot think of a reliable way of demonstrating that a particular class of action will increase the density of 'good' when universally applied. Nevertheless, it _may_ increase the density of 'good', and that is enough to justify doing so, given that the alternative is to definitely not increase the density of the good at all. In general, if a class of action is equally dispersed among possible actions, then that class will add to the density of 'good'. If that class of action is diminishing in dispersion among possible actions, then if the rate diverges, it will not add to the density of 'good', while if it converges, then it will add to the density of good. As to how you can tell whether or not a class of action is equally dispersed, let alone converges or diverges, I have no idea. (For example, imagine the 'good' is 0 mod3, every third integer among integers, making the density 1/3. Choosing a class of action that makes 1 mod3 'good' will then increase the density to 2/3 (even 1 mod27 will increase the density to 1/3 + 1/27). But choosing a class of action that makes primes 'good' will add only zero to the original 1/3, and the density will remain the same.)
In practice, choosing a class of action that, when universalized, may increase the density of 'good' could take the form of 'help your neighbor' or 'give preference to your family'. In this sense, the consequentialist may rationally give preference to one's own while ignoring admittedly greater needs of strangers. Helping the strangers may bring about a higher finite amount of 'good', but since the cardinality is equal to helping one's own, this is not a pressing difference. On the other hand, helping strangers may bring about an increase of the density of 'good', but it is not clear that it would be a greater increase than helping one's own instead! Indeed, it seems possible that 'helping one's own' and 'helping strangers' may very well increase the density of 'good' equally well, and so choosing between these ideals would be totally arbitrary! (Of course, it may turn out that they increase the density by different amounts, in which case consequentialism would demand one choice over the other. But the point is that it remains unclear as to how each choice may affect density, and so you cannot blindly say that helping whomever needs most help will take precedence.)
Thus these are the two arguments, psychological and mathematical, descriptive and prescriptive respectively, that show why a rational consequentialist might weight the consideration of interests of one's own more highly than that of strangers, if they are faced with the possibility of an infinite universe in extent or duration in which the total good is nonfinite. With this additional reply added to their arsenal, I imagine the consequentialists will have an easier time defending their doctrine against those who argue that friendship comes first.

The Landscaped Yard

Hesitsantly, I knocked on the front door. There was a doorbell present, but somehow using it would have taken too much away from the occasion, and I really didn't want to kill the mood. After all, I'd been planning this for over a month now.

When she answered the door, I couldn't help but to think that she wasn't what I was expecting, even though for the life of me I cannot imagine what it was that I was expecting. She looked to be in her early sixties, in a floral print dress that has long been out of style. Her (assumedly) graying hair was wrapped in a towel, almost as though she was coming from the shower, but she showed no sign of it otherwise, so perhaps it was just a cultural thing.

"Hello, my name's Eric, though I don't know why I'm telling you that; we don't know one another, and since I'm just passing by, it won't do you any good to know my name." I was already screwing it up. She gave me a strange look, and I thought for sure she'd shut the door on me if I didn't get straight to the point. "I'm not selling anything, if that's what you're thinking. And I'm not here to spread the word of God or some other notion I may have. I just..." Pausing, I glanced inside her home. It was clean, perhaps too clean, with flowers everywhere.

"I walk past your home nearly every day on the way to the library, or the metro, or for nearly anything else for that matter. And I just wanted to say: every time I pass by your yard, I cannot help but to smile. Your garden is absolutely beautiful."

She blushes, thanking me in a midwestern accent. She's clearly not from here. "I don't know if it your doing, or your husband's, or just your gardener's, but the beauty you have in your front yard is simply too much for me to not have stopped by to thank you for it. I cannot relate to you how many times I have passed by in a foul mood and been jerked back to happy thoughts by your azaleas. And that tree--forgive me for not knowing its species--its blossoms bowl me over no matter how heavy a load of books I am carrying back home."

She responds kindly, in her own way, and in the background I can see that a tall man has come to stand nearby, just out of sight. I see this because he does not notice his shadow falling within my field of vision.

"No, I couldn't possibly intrude on you this evening", I reply to her hesitant invitation; then, nodding toward my backp-ack of groceries, I explain: "I am on my way home now, and cannot really take the time to stay for much longer than I already have. Besides, I don't really want to get to know you." Her look of puzzlement is plain, and I find myself wondering what look is on the face of the tall man just behind the corner. But I continue my (somewhat rehearsed) speech nonetheless. "I am not a particularly social person. I don't relate well to very many people. It's just..." I seem to struggle to get out the words, even though I know in advance what I will basically say. I've thought of nothing else these past few days. "Most people speak of inconsequential things to people who do not deserve to be spoken to: they gossip with coworkers or pass along confidentialities to second cousins. But I prefer to say what is deserved to the deserver, regardless of whether or not they happen to work where I do or share my same bloodline. You garden is why I've chosen to stop by here today, and it is why I'm saying this to you. But if I get to know you, it will be different. It will degrade this conversation, and when I write of this moment in my journal later tonight, the memory will be marred by the fact that you and I differ strongly on politics, or religion, or perhaps psychology. If I get to know you, then this memory will be of you; I would rather it be of the gardener behind this yard. If I shared a cup of tea with you, I may end up hating the experience, and every time I pass your yard on the way to the metro, I will think of you, when I really just want to appreciate the beauty of your garden. So no, I will not come inside. I wished to only give a compliment and leave; and that is what I will do."

So I left.

There was so much I didn't say that I had planned on. I wanted to tell her about how I was not the only one who enjoyed her garden. I wanted to tell her of the many car-goers who passed too quickly by in admiration, and I wanted to tell her of the pedestrians who did not stop because they would think it too silly to stop for, or because they needed to get to the bus stop in a hurry so they could get to their minimum wage job, or maybe because they did not know any English at all. I wanted to tell her that I was their spokesperson. That though I was the one to knock on her door to give this compliment, it was a compliment shared by countless passers-by, who all had brightened days due only to the beauty of her landscaped front yard. But I said none of this.

In fact, I said none of this at all. I planned to. I even stopped in front of her house, and willed myself to walk to her front door. But it was too late. I was tired. There were groceries in my backpack. It was dinnertime, and I didn't want to be a nuisance. All these and more objections came to my head, and so I walked home without saying anything at all. And as I walked home, I imagined the sixty-ish floral clad figure with a towel wrapped around her head. I imagined the shadow of her companion, and the cleanliness of her home. And I know that I will not be saying any of this to her, nor to whomever may actually live there. Because, as uplifting as it may be to that mystery resident, it would just be too mean from my point of view. After all, her garden is despicable.

Oh, it is landscaped and well-groomed. With red flowers surrounded by stones and a row of bushes cut as though they were meant to a enjoy a fully right-angled existence. But seeing it every day makes me sick. Others look at with smiles on their faces--yes, I see these others taking enjoyment from that yard--but it is all too very fake to me. The lawn is cut, the weeds are all pulled, and the sterility makes me long for the sparse woodlands of my youth, path-ridden though they may have been.

No, I won't ever knock on her door, though I fantasize complimening her on making a yard that is somehow even more devoid of nature than those who have nothing but grass cut to its shortest extent. If I did speak to her, I would be kindly in words, giving a rehearsed speech on behalf of the idiots who actually like the beauty of her yard, but it would all be a lie, because I HATE her yard, and I don't wish to lie to this complete stranger just so I can fulfill this relentless fantasy of speaking to whomever it is that has such a backwards heart to care enough of plants to bother with gardening so thoroughly yet cares so little to take those same plants and keep them in a sterile, fake, zoo-like environment. (I abhor zoos.)

No, I will instead just write up what I imagine the encounter may have been like, and then start on my new library books. I'm looking forward to Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones--the movie was so good, I can't imagine not enjoying the book. And I wonder how much Miyazaki changed when writing the screenplay.

I will be very disappointed if the book turns out worse than the film. That hasn't happened to me since Bridges of Madison County, and I fear the day when I meet another book that pales in comparison to the film vesion.

Vegetarianism Issues, The Crazy Dude, and a Published Secret

"A #2 with a coke, please; but, if you could, hold the meat and add extra lettuce and tomatoes."
"You mean you don't want the meat?"
"That's right. I'm vegetarian."
"Would you like to get the vegetarian sandwich meal instead?"
"No, I don't particularly like whole grain bread, nor do I enjoy the particular type of veggie-burger you serve here. I'd really just like the sandwich made the same way you make all #2 sandwiches, except don't put meat on it, and add extra lettuce and tomatoes."
"So instead of fries, you want the apple and side-salad, right?"
"No, I'm not a health freak; I'm a vegetarian. There's a difference. Just make the same kind of meal you would make for any meat-eater, except don't include the meat. That means I want the same greasy fries you serve to everyone else."
"Okay."
--five minutes later--
"Hi, I just ordered a #2 without the meat, but when I got my order, it had meat on it."
"You want your money back? You already opened it."
"No, I don't want my money back. I just want to get what I ordered initially. I was supposed to get a #2 without meat, but with added lettuce and tomatoes, but instead what I was given had meat in it. You did get the extra lettuce and tomatoes thing correct, though."
"Okay, don't worry; we'll get it taken care of."
--five minutes later--
"Hi, I'm sorry to be such a bother, but the replacement meal you just gave me is on a whole-wheat bun. I wanted a #2."
"Yeah, with no meat, right?"
"Yes, with no meat. But I didn't want the vegetarian sandwich--I wanted the #2 sandwich, but with no meat."
"Okay, we'll get this fixed for you. Don't worry."
--five minutes later--
"Excuse me, but I overheard the troubles you've been having getting your order fixed up correctly."
"Yeah, it's okay, though. I'm used to it."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know that they do it on purpose. I'm a regular here, and every day they find someone to pick on and deliberately get their order wrong over and over."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, they think it's funny as hell. But I'm going to show them. Next time I order, when they get it right, I'll tell them they got it wrong, and if they get it wrong, I'll just eat what they give me. It's the perfect plan, you see."
"... Yes, that sounds like a good plan. ... Uh, thanks for letting me in on it. But I really should finish eating now. I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"Yes, yes."
--30 second pause--
"You know, you could start out this perfect plan by giving them back your half finished food and saying they got it wrong again. I mean, I know they got it right this time, but it'll really get them back if you tell them it's wrong."
"Um..., no, ... no, thank you. I think you'll do quite fine by yourself when you order your food tomorrow. After all, if I do that today, it might warn them of your perfect plan for tomorrow, and that wouldn't be good."
"You're right! We can't let them know about my plan. Hey, you're a pretty smart guy. Maybe you can come eat here tomorrow with me and we can fool them together--that'll really get them!"
"I appreciate the offer, but I really do have to go, and I won't be available tomorrow. Thanks for letting me in on your plan, though. I'll keep it a secret."
"Yes, yes, keep it a secret. Don't tell anybody! If they find out, who knows what could happen! You promise you'll keep it a secret?"
"I won't tell anyone but my diary, at least not until after tomorrow."
"Good."

Certainly Not What I Expected

Went to a speech by Karl Rove. Two hecklers cursed him out in the middle of his talk; apparently, this is quite common with him.
Rove pointed out, quite accurately, in my opinion, that it is dishonest for Obama to pledge that he wants to run a different kind of campaign, and yet continues to harp on McCain's '100 years of war' statement.
It's really weird to realize that I went out to a speech by Karl Rove, got irritated at the hecklers who called him nasty names because I was trying to follow what Rove was saying, and in the end agreed with him far more than I disagreed with him. Certainly not what I expected.
If the many anti-Rove documentaries I've seen tell truthful stories, then Rove is a complete dick. But his speech at George Washington University was actually pretty good, and about three-quarters of what he said actually made a lot of sense to me.
Certainly not what I expected.


Update: Three days later, Obama gave a speech in PA and was asked by a member of the crowd if he thought he was going too far by mischaracterizing McCain's '100 years' comment for political advantage. Obama staunchly denied this, stating unequivocally that he felt he was being quite fair, and said that he was referring to an exact quote. "We can both go back on youtube to see exactly what he said," Obama told the questioner. "He was quite clear that he would stay in Iraq for 100 years." (paraphrased)
Of the remaining candidates, since Nader has no chance in hell, I'm an Obama supporter. But this is just plain wrong. Obama himself said that he would keep troops around similar to what we now do in Germany and Japan, and that is exactly what McCain clarified that he meant in his statement as well. I'll still vote for Obama, but I'm very disappointed in him for this. .:sigh:.