Private Equity Delivers Death Panels

Remember "death panels"? Sarah Palin promised us that universal healthcare was a prelude to a Stalinist nightmare in which unaccountable bureaucrats decided who lived or died based on a cost-benefit analysis of what it would cost to keep you alive versus how much your life was worth.

Palin was right that any kind of healthcare rationing runs the risk of this kind of calculus, where we weight spending $10,000 to extend a young, healthy person's life by 40 years against $1,000 to extend an elderly, disabled person's life by a mere two years.

It's a ghastly, nightmarish prospect – as anyone who uses the private healthcare system knows very well. More than 27m Americans have no health insurance, and millions more have been tricked into buying scam "cost-sharing" systems run by evangelical grifters:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/02/health/christian-health-care-insurance.html

But for the millions of Americans with insurance, death panels are an everyday occurrence, or at least a lurking concern. Anyone who pays attention knows that insurers have entire departments designed to mass-reject legitimate claims and stall patients who demand that the insurer lives up to its claim:

The private healthcare sector is designed to deny care. Its first duty is to its shareholders, not its patients, and every dollar spent on care is a dollar not available for dividends. The ideal insurance customer pays their premiums without complaint, and then pays cash for all their care on top of it.

All that was true even before private equity started buying up and merging whole swathes of the US healthcare system (or "healthcare" "system"). The PE playbook – slash wages, sell off physical plant, slash wages, reduce quality and raise prices – works in part because of its scale. These aren't the usual economies of scale. Rather the PE strategy is to buy and merge all the similar businesses in a region, so customers, suppliers and workers have nowhere else to turn.

That's bad enough when it's aimed at funeral homes, pet groomers or any of the other sectors that have been bigfooted by PE: (...)

But it's especially grave when applied to hospitals: (...)

Or emergency room physicians: (...)

And if you think that's a capitalist hellscape nightmare, just imagine how PE deals with dying, elderly people. Yes, PE has transformed the hospice industry, and it's even worse than you imagine.

Yesterday, the Center for Economic and Policy Research published "Preying on the Dying: Private Equity Gets Rich in Hospice Care," written by some of the nation's most valiant PE slayers: Eileen Appelbaum, Rosemary Batt and Emma Curchin: (...)

Medicare pays private hospices $203-$1,462 per day to take care of dying old people – seniors that a doctor has certified to have less than six months left. That comes to $22.4b/year in public transfers to private hospices. If hospices that $1,462 day-rate, they have lots of duties, like providing eight hours' worth of home care. But if the hospice is content to take the $203/day rate, they are not required to do anything. Literally. It's just free money for whatever the operator feels like doing for a dying elderly person, including doing nothing at all.

As Appelbaum told Maureen Tkacik for her excellent writeup in The American Prospect: "Why anybody commits fraud is a mystery to me, because you can make so much money playing within the guidelines the way the payment scheme operates."

In California, it's very, very easy to set up a hospice. Pay $3,000, fill in some paperwork (or don't – no one checks it, ever), and you're ready to start caring for beloved parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles as they depart this world. You do get a site inspection, but don't worry – you aren't required to bring your site up to code until after you're licensed, and again, they never check – not even if there are multiple complaints. After all, no one at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) has the job of tracking complaints.

This is absolute catnip for private equity – free government money, no obligations, no enforcement, and the people you harm are literally dying and can't complain. What's not to like? No wonder PE companies have spent billions "rolling up" hospices across the country. There are 591 hospices in Van Nuys, CA alone – but at least 30 of them share a single medical director: (...)

Medicare caps per-patient dispersals at $32,000, which presents an interesting commercial question for remorseless, paperclip-maximizing, grandparent-devouring private equity ghouls: do you take in sick patients (who cost more, but die sooner) or healthy patients (cost less, potentially live longer)?

In Van Nuys, the strategy is to bring in healthy patients and do nothing. 51% of Van Nuys hospice patients are "live discharged" – that is, they don't die. This figure – triple the national average – is "a reliable sign of fraud."

There are so many hospice scams and most of them are so stupid that it takes a monumental failure of oversight not to catch and prevent them. Here's a goodun: hospices bribe doctors to "admit" patients to a hospice without their knowledge. The hospice bills for the patient, but otherwise has no contact with them. This can go on for a long time, until the patient tries to visit the doctor and discovers that their Medicare has been canceled (you lose your Medicare once you go into hospice).

Another scam: offer patients the loosest narcotics policy in town, promising all the opioids they want. Then, once their benefits expire, let them die of an overdose (don't worry, people who die in hospice don't get autopsies):

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/12/05/how-hospice-became-a-for-profit-hustle

You can hire con artists to serve as your sales-force, and have them talk vulnerable, elderly people into enrolling in hospice care by convincing them they have nothing to live for and should just die already and not burden their loved ones any longer.

Hospitals and hospices also collude: hospitals can revive dying patients, ignoring their Do Not Resuscitate orders, so they can be transfered to a hospice and die there, saving the hospital from adding another dead patient to their stats.

CMS's solution is perverse: they're working with Humana to expand Medicare Advantage (a scam that convinces patients to give up Medicare and enrol in a private insurance program, whose private-sector death panel rejects 13% of claims that Medicare would have paid for). The program will pay private companies $32,000 for every patient who agrees to cease care and die. As our friends on the right like to say, "incentives matter."

by Cory Doctorow, Pleuralistic |  Read more:

Image: Seydelmann, CC BY-SA 3.0, modified

[ed. What good hospice care looks like: President Jimmy Carter and the benefits of early hospice care (Seattle Times). Then, there's this: Born to Die (American Prospect); and, How Hospice Became a For-Profit Hustle (New Yorker).]

In Denial

It was a short letter. John Roberts, chief justice of the US supreme court, was brief in his missive to Democratic senator Dick Durbin, who chairs the Senate judiciary committee. Citing “separation of powers concerns and the importance of preserving judicial independence”, Roberts declined to appear before the committee to discuss disturbing recent revelations of ethics violations at the court.

Congress is meant to exert checks on judicial power – to investigate or even impeach judges who abuse their office or interpret the law in ways that violate its spirit, and to affirm that the elected branches will hold more sway over policy than the appointed one. But the chief justice’s show of indifference to congressional oversight authority reflects a new reality: that there are now effectively no checks on the power of the court – at least none that Democrats have the political will to use – and that the justices can be assured that they will face no repercussions even if they act in flagrant violation of ethical standards. It seems that they intend to.

The committee summoned Roberts to testify because it appears that he’s not exactly running a tight ship. On 6 April, an investigation by ProPublica found that Justice Clarence Thomas had, over decades, accepted millions of dollars’ worth of private plane flights, “superyacht” trips and luxury vacations from the Texas billionaire and conservative megadonor Harlan Crow – and that, in alleged violation of federal ethics law, he had not disclosed almost any of it.

Subsequent reporting revealed that Crow had in fact bought Thomas’s childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, where the justice’s elderly mother still lives, along with several plots on the block. After paying Thomas for the real estate, the billionaire cleared local blight, made significant renovations to the house and allowed Thomas’s mother to continue living there, rent-free.

None of those transactions had been detailed on Thomas’s ethics forms, either. In addition to the soft influence Crow would have been able to buy with his extensive largesse, the billionaire’s generous gifts also seem to have created a direct conflict of interest for Justice Thomas: Crow’s firm had business before the US supreme court at least once, and Thomas did not recuse himself from the case.

It is not Thomas’s first time in ethical hot water. He was famously accused of sexual harassment by multiple women, including Anita Hill, during his time in the Reagan administration as head of the employee-rights protection watchdog, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. He has been accused of having perjured himself in his subsequent testimony about his behavior toward Hill at his confirmation hearings.

During his long tenure on the court, he has repeatedly had trouble filling out his financial disclosure forms correctly. Once, he failed to report more than half a million dollars in income that his wife, the conservative activist Ginni Thomas, received from the rightwing Heritage Foundation. He said at the time that he had misunderstood the forms. That was also his excuse regarding Harlan Crow’s largesse.

Thomas claims that he was advised that he did not have to report “hospitality”. It is a loophole in the ethics code that is meant to relieve judges of having to report, say, barbecue dinners at the homes of their neighbors – not, as Thomas claims he took it to mean, luxury yacht tours of Indonesia.

Although Thomas may be uniquely prolific in his alleged ethical violations, the problem isn’t unique to him. Politico revealed this week that just nine days after his confirmation to the US supreme court in April 2017, Justice Neil Gorsuch sold a log cabin in Colorado to Brian Duffy, the chief executive of the massive law firm Greenberg Traurig. Before Gorsuch’s confirmation, the justice and the other co-owners of the home had tried for two years to sell it, without success.

Since the sale, Duffy’s firm has had business before the court at least 22 times. Gorsuch did disclose the income from the sale on financial disclosure forms, but failed to mention that the buyer was a big shot at one of the country’s largest law firms who would regularly bring cases before Gorsuch at his new job.

It’s certainly possible that Duffy simply liked the house, and that the convenient timing of his purchase so soon after Gorsuch’s confirmation to the court was a mere coincidence. And it seems reasonable to believe Thomas and Crow when they say that they are sincere friends, if less reasonable to believe Thomas when he claims that he misunderstood his disclosure obligations. But corruption need not be as vulgar and direct as a quid pro quo: it can be the subtle machinations of influence and sympathy that occur in these relationships, inflected both by money and by closeness, that lead the justices to see cases as they otherwise wouldn’t, or act in ways contrary to the integrity of their office and the interests of the law.

Bad intent by the justices need not be present for the mere appearance of corruption to have a corrosive effect on the rule of law, and both Gorsuch and Thomas have allowed a quite severe appearance of corruption to attach itself to the court. Both have claimed that they are such intelligent and gifted legal minds that they should be given lifelong appointments of unparalleled power, and also that they have made innocent mistakes on legal forms that they are too dumb to understand.

The claim strains credulity. What it looks like, to the American people who have to live under the laws that the supreme court shapes, is that Thomas has long been living lavishly on the dime of a rightwing billionaire who wants rightwing rulings, and that Gorsuch conveniently managed to sell a house he didn’t want at the precise moment when he became important enough to be worth bribing.

The chief justice doesn’t seem very worried about this appearance of impropriety. In light of these alarming ethics concerns, Roberts’ curt rejection of the committee’s invitation to testify speaks to an evident indifference to ethical standards, or a contempt for the oversight powers of the nominally coequal branches. Ironically enough, his nonchalance has made the reality even more plain than it was before: the court will not police itself.

by Moira Donegan, The Guardian |  Read more:

Image: Jim Young/Reuters

[ed. See also: What’s Going On with Samuel Alito? (New Yorker). And: Is Rupert Murdoch OK? (Guardian):]

It’s fair to say the Wall Street Journal is not alone in the quest to make sense of Murdoch’s recent behaviour. The week after he paid $787.5m to settle the lawsuit brought against Fox News by Dominion Voting Systems – Dominion’s lawyers were going to force him to take the stand – Murdoch sacked Carlson via his son Lachlan. Media outlets have been scrambling to find logical explanations for actions that arguably, to deploy a euphemism, defy logic. After all, this is a 92-year-old who only weeks ago was delighting us with news of his impending fifth marriage – a whirlwind engagement to a former dental nurse turned prison chaplain, which was hastily called off a mere fortnight later. Apparently, Murdoch had become “increasingly uncomfortable” with his fiancee’s “outspoken evangelical views”. Again: really?

The one thing we can say with certainty is that Murdoch would want us to pick over his actions and ask if he was still playing with a full deck of Happy Families cards. For decades, his newspapers have lasered in on public figures as they reach their twilight, premature or otherwise. Back in the day, a paparazzi picture of a painfully thin Freddie Mercury limping across the street was glossed with the Sun’s front page inquiry: “ARE YOU OK FRED?” – one of those newspaper questions to which the answer is patently: no. No, he’s not – what does it effing look like? So in the same solicitous spirit we must survey the recent actions of the mercurial mogul, and ask, in the way he taught us: ARE YOU OK RUPE?

Put candidly … what does it effing look like? Last October, Murdoch announced plans to merge both his public companies, Fox Corp and News Corp, before being forced in January to abandon the scheme in the face of shareholder bafflement and dismay. March brought news of the bonkers betrothal and Murdoch’s bizarre interview about how he “dreaded falling in love”; April saw the engagement’s abandonment. Murdoch was supposed to end the month testifying in the Dominion lawsuit; having settled that, he set about blindsiding even his allies by sacking Carlson. While legacy media oblige their own moguls by suggesting lucid cause-and-effect, some of the upstarts are finally breaking the glass on the word “erratic”.

“Erratic” was certainly a word that came to mind when reading the epic recent Vanity Fair article on Murdoch, in which every line was a marmalade-dropper. Take the single paragraph that revealed Murdoch had fallen and seriously injured himself on a Caribbean superyacht trip with his now-former wife Jerry Hall. Though it hastened to dock to get him to hospital, the boat was too big for the pier, resulting in Murdoch having to be precariously lowered down, after which he spent a night under a tent in a car park (the local hospital was closed). He was finally medevaced out, but, according to a family friend, “kept almost dying”. LA medics discovered a broken back, noting from the X-rays that he had previously fractured vertebrae. The paragraph concludes: “Murdoch explained it must have been from the time his ex-wife Deng pushed him into a piano during a fight.” (Ms Deng did not respond to the publication’s requests for comment.)

It feels particularly piquant that all this is taking place against the backdrop of the final series of Succession. Murdoch is extremely, extremely relaxed about the show, to the point of having it written into his divorce settlement with Jerry Hall that she was banned from speaking to its writers. Jerry reportedly realised the Oxfordshire house she got in the settlement was rigged with cameras still beaming their footage back to Fox HQ, a discovery that prompted Mick Jagger’s security guy to come and dismantle the apparatus for her.

Why the N.F.L. Draft Is About Much More Than Football

The N.F.L. has televised its draft since 1980, and soon after, pro sports leagues realized they could sell rights to their selection shows to emerging cable networks thirsty for content. In the four decades since, football’s rookie roll call has far eclipsed those of its sports peers, giving the N.F.L. draft popularity on a par with whoever headlines the Grammys and bigger than HBO’s “Succession.”

For three days, a sport built on violent collisions holds what amounts to a football festival that traffics in heart-tugging stories and innocent fun. At last year’s draft, N.F.L. Commissioner Roger Goodell — a brawny former player himself — turned to greet Devin Lloyd, the 6-foot-3 linebacker who’d just been selected, and offered the customary handshake and hug. To Goodell’s shock, Lloyd leaned in and snatched his new boss off the ground in a motion so fluid that Goodell simply tucked his feet back and broke out into a laugh.

Afterward, Lloyd’s mother, Ronyta Johnson, said she’d told him to do it on a whim. “I just wanted to see if he could,” she said.

Such moments can’t begin to justify why the N.F.L. draft, which begins Thursday in Kansas City, Mo., draws an audience of upward of 11 million people every year for broadcasts across four networks. Even at its worst, the draft is a hit.

In 2021, when Goodell announced picks from a stage in Cleveland, cameras cut to the first player picked, whose name had been expected to be called first for months. The player, Clemson quarterback Trevor Lawrence, watched, like the rest of America, from home. More TV viewers showed up to witness that formality than saw “Nomadland” win the Academy Award for best picture that year.

How did pro forma sports programming come to have that kind of cultural pull? Part of the answer lies in football’s stranglehold on our TV screens. Twenty-two N.F.L. games were among the top 25 prime-time telecasts in 2022, making the sport the most reliable destination viewing of anything the networks could cook up.

Football’s viewership has been a key driver of its revenue, the league’s talent for spectacle turning America’s most popular sport into its most profitable one. The N.F.L. signed media deals worth over $100 billion in 2021 and has since inked a $2 billion deal with YouTube for the rights to stream Sunday games. Amazon is paying $1 billion to stream games on Thursdays, and this year the N.F.L. will add a game played on Black Friday for the tech giant’s Prime shoppers. It will also air 75 hours of draft coverage on the league-owned NFL Network, with more footage streamed on NFL+, the NFL App, NFL.com and NFL Channel.

“There’s no other N.F.L.,” said Jim Minnich, a senior vice president for revenue and yield management at Disney Advertising. Minnich runs the group that sells ad inventory for ESPN and ABC’s broadcast of the three-day event, over 35 hours of programming, which is sold out this year and is expected to pull in $16 million for Disney. “There’s a lot of noise out there this time of year, and the N.F.L. just cuts through.”

As proof, Minnich offered a statistic: The number of people searching online for draft advertisers was 41 percent higher than that of an average prime-time broadcast. He attributed this to storytelling. The N.F.L. schedules a pick every 15 minutes, and to fill the time between them the networks air short biographies of the player who was just selected. That way viewers go on a brief emotional journey that leads to a satisfying denouement (burly guys in N.F.L. caps tearing up and hugging their moms and dads).

A spokesman for ESPN said the network would produce 600 player highlight packages and had plans to zoom in on 50 live shots of prospects as they waited to hear their names called. This after pundits in sports media and on bar stools and message boards have spent three months predicting which team will want which player.

As with award shows and beauty pageants, the N.F.L. draft gets really juicy when cameras lock in on the contestants whose names aren’t called. When Aaron Rodgers was passed over for the top pick in 2005 by the San Francisco 49ers, the team he spent his childhood rooting for, he spent four hours agonizing in front of TV cameras until the Green Bay Packers took him with the 24th pick.

“The Lord has been teaching me a lot about humility and patience, and he kind of threw both of those in my face today,” Rodgers, then 21, said. Now 39 and a four-time N.F.L. most valuable player, he was recently traded to the Jets.

“It’s embarrassing,” he told ESPN after his long draft night. “You know the whole world is watching, your phone’s buzzing every two minutes and you’re hoping it’s a team calling. But it’s just your buddies just making jokes, and it’s hard to laugh in a situation where you know everybody’s laughing at you.”

The squirming of stranded players can give a palpable focal point to the buildup, while unseen coaches and clipboard-holders decide their futures. Though the league pays players’ airfare and hotel expenses to make the trip to the draft live show, they aren’t paid to appear.

In some cases, agents advise against showing up, lest the player suffer the humiliation of an awkward, televised wait. Only 17 of the 259 players who will be drafted planned to attend the event and sit in the cordoned-off green room/fishbowl. Those who attend will do so for roughly the same reason that college seniors sit through graduation speeches: The ceremony, as uncomfortable as it is, is a symbolic finish line.

by Elena Bergeron, NY Times | Read more:
Image: John Locher/Associated Press

Late-Night TV: Ted Cruz: ‘What a Sorry Excuse for an American’

[ed. Can't argue with that. So, what else is happening...?]

Jimmy Kimmel

On Jimmy Kimmel Live!, the host mentioned former first lady Melania Trump’s birthday, with People reporting that Trump would join her “if his schedule allows”. Kimmel noted that he was “very busy with the yelling and the golf” and that day had been sharing social media posts about his rape trial. “Such a romantic,” he added.

This week also saw news that Trump might skip the presidential debates as he doesn’t want to subject himself to Maga-hating anchors. “I bet this is gonna be like WrestleMania when he says he’s not gonna be there then in the middle of the debate he runs out on stage and hits Ron DeSantis over the head with a folding chair,” Kimmel joked.

Reports suggest that Fox News was keeping a file of dirt on Tucker Carlson and was prepared to release it if he goes after them post-firing. “What could they have on Tucker Carlson?” he speculated. “Did he once try to buy a fuel-efficient car? Does he have a collection of paintings that weren’t by Hitler?”

Kimmel said the dossier could just be “every episode of his show”.

This week also saw leaked footage of Ted Cruz talking to Fox News host Maria Bartiromo, detailing a plan to overturn the election in 2020 by creating a phony commission. “What a sorry excuse for an American,” Kimmel said, adding: “Next time you go to Cancún, stay in Cancún.”

He also joked: “The only thing funnier than Donald Trump going to jail for trying to steal the election is Ted Cruz going to jail for trying to steal the election for Donald Trump.”

Seth Meyers

On Late Night, Seth Meyers spoke about the “messy separation” between Tucker Carlson and Fox News.

He noted that when the Dominion settlement happened, the network “barely even mentioned it despite the fact that it was one of the biggest media scandals in recent history” and included footage of a host not knowing the settlement number. “I dunno, maybe ask around, you work there,” he said. (...)

Rumours have swirled that it might have been for some racist statements he made but Meyers joked that “firing Tucker for racism now after tolerating it for so long would be like cancelling Sesame Street because you just found out they’re puppets”.

by Guardian Staff, The Guardian |  Read more:

Image: YouTube

[ed. Funny stuff, I guess. I should watch more late-night tv. Haha. Psych! Never. I get enough of this stuff during the day and value my sleep at night.]

Joyce Stratton
via:

Mirko Hanak
via:

Gil Scott Heron

Quiet Quitting

Gone are the days when employers could count on employees competing to go “above and beyond” to rise faster in their organizations. Employers now face “quiet quitting,” a trend that emerged in July 2022 from a viral TikTok video to become a phenomenon noted on Wikipedia and discussed in Forbes and The Wall Street Journal.

Quiet quitting is more than employees setting boundaries or intentionally putting a hard stop to their work day or week so they can create a work/life balance. Checked-out quiet quitters simply slack their way through their workweek by doing the bare minimum needed to keep their jobs, overloading their coworkers, frustrating their supervisors and draining productivity from their employers.

According to ResumeBuilder.com’s August 2022 survey of 1000 U.S. employees:21% of surveyed employees admit to “quiet quitting,” stating that they do only the bare minimum at work;

• 5% admit to doing even less than they’re paid to do;
• 8 in 10 “quiet quitters” report they’re “burnt out”;
• 46% of “quiet quitters” don’t want to do more work than they’re compensated to do or to compromise their work/life balance;
• 1 in 10 employees report they put in less effort than they did 6 months ago;
• 1 in 3 who have reduced effort have cut back the hours they spend working by more than half.

What created quiet quitting?

Some describe quiet quitting as a coping mechanism that employees intentionally choose to reduce internalized stress. Others see it as resulting from employees gaining “COVID clarity” concerning life priorities while working from home during the pandemic. They note that large numbers of employees became unwilling to sacrifice to “get ahead” with their employer, particularly after other employers desperate to fill vacancies wooed them with flexibility, higher wages and greater benefits if they jumped ship. Still others view it as an outgrowth of employee cynicism and entitlement, with employees no longer believing they need to work hard to get ahead. Gallup’s 2021 survey reports that only 36% of employees feel engaged in their jobs.

Lynn Curry, ADN |  Read more:

Image: rudall30 via Getty Images/via:

[ed. We've all seen the type. I don't think this is any particularly new trend, there've always been people just putting in time and collecting a paycheck (especially in their later years approaching retirement). It's pretty soul-killing.]

What Neuroscientists and Philosophers Understand About Addiction

When I was arrested and charged with possession with intent to sell cocaine in 1986, I was addicted to both coke and heroin. Although I was facing a 15 years-to-life sentence, the first thing I did after my parents bailed me out and held a family meeting was to find and secretly inject some prescription opioids that I knew the police hadn’t confiscated.

I knew that doing this further jeopardized my life prospects and my relationships with everyone I cared about. I knew it made no sense. But I didn’t believe that I could cope in any other way. Until I finally recognized that I needed treatment and began recovery in 1988 — with the prospect of that lengthy sentence under New York’s draconian Rockefeller laws still occluding my future — I didn’t think I had any real choice.

Was my brain hijacked by drugs — or was I willfully choosing to risk it all for a few hours of selfish pleasure? What makes people continue taking drugs like street fentanyl, which put them at daily risk of death?

These questions are at the heart of drug policy and the way we view and treat addiction. But simplistic answers have stymied efforts to ameliorate drug use disorders and reduce stigma.

Research now shows that addiction doesn’t ‌‌mean either being completely subject to irresistible impulses, or making totally free choices. Addiction’s effects on decision-making are complex. Understanding them can help policymakers, treatment providers and family members aid recovery.

Claims that people with addiction are unable to control themselves are belied by basic facts. Few of us inject drugs in front of the police, which means that most are capable of delaying use. ‌‌Addicted people often make complicated plans over days and months to obtain drugs and hide use from others, again indicating purposeful activity. Those given the option will use clean needles. Moreover, small rewards for drug-free urine tests — used in a treatment called contingency management — are quite successful at helping people quit, which couldn’t be possible if addiction obliterated choice.

However, those who contend that substance use disorder is just a series of self-centered decisions face conflicting evidence, too. The most obvious ‌is the persistence of addiction despite dire losses like being cut off by family members or friends, getting fired, becoming homeless, contracting infectious diseases or being repeatedly ‌incarcerated‌‌.

‌Most people who try drugs don’t get addicted, even to opioids or methamphetamine, which suggests that ‌factors other than simply being exposed to a drug can contribute to addiction. ‌The majority of people who do get hooked have other psychiatric disorders, traumatic childhoods or both — only ‌7 percent report no history of mental illness. ‌‌Nearly 75 percent of women with heroin addiction‌‌ were sexually abused as children — and most people with any type of addiction have suffered at least one and often many forms of childhood trauma‌‌. ‌‌This data implies that ‌‌genetic and environmental vulnerabilities influence risk.

So how does addiction affect choice? Neuroscientists and philosophers are beginning to converge on answers, which could help make policy more humane and more effective.

Brains can be seen as prediction engines, constantly calculating what is most likely to happen next and whether it will be beneficial or harmful. As children grow up, their emotions and desires get calibrated to guide them toward‌ what their brains predict will ‌meet their social and physical needs. Ideally, as we develop, we gain more control and optimize the ability to choose.

‌But there are many ways that these varied processes can ‌go awry in addiction and alter how a person makes choices and responds to consequences.

by Maia Szalavitz, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Urbazon/E+, via Getty Images

Meet the ‘Elite’ Couples Breeding to Save Mankind

At the beginning of March, Aria Babu quit her job at a think tank to dedicate herself to something most people have never heard of. Having worked in public policy for several years, the 26-year-old Londoner had come to an alarming realisation about the future of the UK, the world – and the human species.

‘It became clear to me that people wanted more children than they were having,’ Babu says. ‘Considering this is such a massive part of people’s lives, the fact that they were not able to fulfil this want was clearly indicative that something was wrong.’

The new focus of Babu’s career is a philosophy known as pronatalism, literally meaning pro-birth. Its core tenet is deceptively simple: our future depends on having enough children, and yet life in developed countries has become hostile to this basic biological imperative. Linked to the subcultures of rationalism and ‘effective altruism’ (EA), and bolstered by declining birth rates, it has been gaining currency in Silicon Valley and the wider tech industry – especially its more conservative corners.

‘I’ve been in various text threads with technology entrepreneurs who share that view… there are really smart people that have real concern around this,’ says Ben Lamm, a Texas biotech entrepreneur whose company Colossal is developing artificial wombs and other reproductive tech (or ‘reprotech’) that could boost future fertility. (...)

Easily the most famous person to espouse pronatalist ideas is Elon Musk, the galaxy’s richest human being, who has had 10 children with three different women. ‘If people don’t have more children, civilisation is going to crumble. Mark my words,’ Musk told a business summit in December 2021. He has described population collapse as ‘the biggest danger’ to humanity (exceeding climate change) and warned that Japan, which has one of the lowest birth rates in the world, ‘will eventually cease to exist’.

In an Insider article last November that helped bring the movement to wider attention, 23andMe co-founder Linda Avey acknowledged its influence on the Texan tech scene, while the managing director of an exclusive retreat, Dialog, co-founded by arch-conservative investor and PayPal pioneer Peter Thiel, said population decline was a frequent topic there.

Babu, who hopes to join or create a pronatalist organisation in the UK, says it is still ‘niche’ here but gaining ground on both the ‘swashbuckling intellectual Right’ and the more family-focused and Blue-Labour-tinged segments of the Left.

At the centre of it all are Simone and Malcolm Collins, two 30-something American entrepreneurs turned philosophers – and parents – who say they are only the most outspoken proponents of a belief that many prefer to keep private. In 2021 they founded a ‘non-denominational’ campaign group called Pronatalist.org, under the umbrella of their non-profit Pragmatist Foundation. Buoyed by a $482,000 (£385,000) donation from Jaan Tallinn, an Estonian tech billionaire who funds many rationalist and EA organisations, it is now lobbying governments, meeting business leaders, and seeking partnerships with reprotech companies and fertility clinics.

The Collinses did not coin the word ‘pronatalism’, which has long been used (along with ‘natalism’) to describe government policies aimed at increasing birth rates, or mainstream pro-birth positions such as that of the Catholic Church. Its opposite is ‘anti-natalism’, the idea that it is wrong to bring a new person into the world if they are unlikely to have a good life. Lyman Stone, a natalist demographer and research fellow at the US’s Institute for Family Studies, has described the Collinses’ philosophy as ‘a very unusual subculture’ compared to millions of everyday natalists. Yet it is their version – a secular, paradoxically unorthodox reconstruction of arguably the most traditional view on earth, driven by alarm about a looming population catastrophe – that is prospering among the tech elite.

‘I don’t think it’s appealing to [just] Silicon Valley people,’ Malcolm tells me on a long call from his home in Pennsylvania. ‘It’s more like, anyone who is familiar with modern science and familiar with the statistics is aware that this is an issue, and they are focused on it. The reason why you see Silicon Valley people disproportionately being drawn to this is they’re obsessed with data enough, and wealthy enough, to be looking at things – and who also have enough wealth and power that they’re not afraid of being cancelled.’

The problem, he concedes, is that falling birth rates are also a common preoccupation of neo-Nazis and other ethno-nationalists, who believe they are being outbred and ‘replaced’ by other races. ‘A lot of alleged concerns about fertility decline are really poorly masked racist ideas about what kinds of people they want on the planet,’ says demographer Bernice Kuang of the UK’s Centre for Population Change.

The Collinses strongly disavow racism and reject the idea that any country’s population should be homogenous. Still, Babu finds that many in the rationalist and EA community, which skews pale and male, are wary of exploring pronatalism – lest they be ‘tarred with the brush of another white man who just wants an Aryan trad-wife’.

Another issue is what you might call the Handmaid’s Tale problem. From Nazi Germany’s motherhood medals to the sprawling brood of infamous, Kansas-based ‘God hates fags’ preacher Fred Phelps, a zeal for large families has often been accompanied by patriarchal gender politics. For liberal Westerners, the idea that we need to have more babies – ‘we’ being a loaded pronoun when not all of us would actually bear them – may conjure images of Margaret Atwood’s Gilead. (...)

But the Collinses contend that this kind of future is exactly what they are trying to prevent. ‘People often compare our group to Handmaid’s Tale-like thinking,’ says Malcolm, ‘and I’m like: excuse me, do you know what happens if we, the voluntary movement, fails…? Cultures will eventually find a way to fix this; how horrifying those mechanisms are depends on whether or not our group finds an ethical way.’ Though they define themselves politically as conservatives – Malcolm invariably votes Republican – they claim to favour LGBT rights and abortion rights and oppose any attempt to pressure those who don’t want children into parenthood.

Instead, they say, their hope is to preserve a ‘diverse’ range of cultures that might otherwise begin to die out within the next 75 to 100 years. They want to build a movement that can support people of all colours and creeds who already want to have large families, but are stymied by society – so that ‘some iteration of something that looks like modern Western civilisation’ can be saved.

‘We are on the Titanic right now,’ says Malcolm. ‘The Titanic is going to hit the iceberg. There is no way around it at this point. Our goal is not to prevent the Titanic from hitting the iceberg; it’s to ready the life rafts.’

It was on the couple’s second date, sitting on a rooftop and gazing out at the nearby woods, that Malcolm first raised the prospect of children. Simone’s response was not enthusiastic.

‘I was very excited to spend my life alone, to never get married, to never have kids,’ she recalls. ‘People would be like, “Do you want to hold the baby?” I was one of those who’s like, “No, you keep it. I will watch that baby from behind glass and be a lot more comfortable.”’

As she says this, her five-month-old daughter Titan Invictus – the couple refuse to give girls feminine names, citing research suggesting they will be taken less seriously – is strapped to her chest, occasionally burbling, while Malcolm has charge of their two sons Torsten, two, and Octavian, three. 

by Io Dodds, Business Insider |  Read more:

Image: Winnie Au
[ed. Elizabeth Holmes just named her newborn Invictus, too ( Latin for "unconquered", also a famous poem devoted to "self-discipline and fortitude in adversity"). What is it with these people?]

Tedeschi Trucks Band

via:

Thank You For Your Service

FOX News Media released a statement on Monday announcing that the network and its biggest star, Tucker Carlson, have agreed to part ways. "We thank him for his service to the network as a host and prior to that as a contributor," the press release continued. "Mr. Carlson's last program was Friday April 21st." By the looks of his final show last week, Carlson did not have any indication that he'd be out of the chair a few days later. Media reporter Brian Stelter, a longtime foe of Fox News and its primetime stars, suggests it is telling that Carlson was not offered the chance to host a final show where he could sign off on his own terms and, perhaps, give his fans an indication of where he intends to go next.

The timing of Carlson's departure is likely instructive. Fox agreed to pay Dominion Voting Systems up to $787 million last week to settle a lawsuit regarding false claims made on Fox airwaves alleging Dominion played some role in rigging the 2020 election against Donald Trump. It’s not just that the claims were demonstrably false, something Fox admitted as part of the settlement. Through the discovery process in the case, Dominion also dug up texts and emails showing Fox News stars and executives—including Tucker Carlson—knew full well the election-fraud claims were lies and allowed them to proliferate on the number-one cable news channel regardless. They told each other so and mocked Trumpworld figures, like the putative attorney Sidney Powell, for believing them. A defamation case is difficult to win in the United States, but this was about as open-and-shut as it gets.

Carlson also disparaged a number of people in and around the Fox News network in his communications, and perhaps most importantly, he slagged off Donald Trump repeatedly. He said the man who’s now once again leading the polls to become the Republican presidential nominee was a “destroyer” and a “disaster” and a “demonic force.” He said he “hates” Trump “passionately.” The departure could come down to burned bridges within Fox, or—don’t laugh—a genuine attempt from the network to respond to the substance of the Dominion case. But it’s also worth considering that the texts and emails surfaced in the Dominion case revealed Fox News got into the election conspiracy game in the first place because they feared they were losing viewers and market share to even loonier networks that were going full-throttle on the stolen-election nonsense.

Fox may have settled to avoid a larger payment to Dominion, or they might have settled to avoid having their biggest stars and most powerful executives—up to and including Rupert Murdoch—testify. But they also might have settled to avoid court proceedings that would have shined a brighter light, for longer, on the reality that many at the network are not True Believers. That, just like any failure to toe Trump’s line back in 2020, posed a risk to market share. It surely could be damaging to Fox News for their viewers to learn the network’s biggest star hates the Republican Party’s standard-bearer but pretends the opposite while on-air for their viewing pleasure. As we laid out last week, $787 million is not a hugely destructive figure in the grand scheme of Fox's business, but the settlement is a black eye for the company that they’re hoping to keep mostly obscured from their customers. Granted, Carlson’s departure may get some Fox superfans asking questions they mightn’t have otherwise.

Or maybe none of that really matters, and there’s some other reason for Tucker’s exit still to be revealed. What Carlson was almost certainly not dismissed for was an absolutely barbaric record as a television presenter. He's lived many lives in media, including as a bowtie-toting Reasonable Conservative on CNN and MSNBC and as a talk-radio guest overeager to impress and as a talented writer for this very magazine, but Carlson found a new kind of influence and success on the Trump-era Fox News Channel. The man is an almost comic exaggeration of a trust-fund kid—Tucker Swanson McNear Carlson’s brother is named Buckley Carlson—who’s come to represent the very worst of the low-taxes-and-lacrosse types who matriculate through schools like Carlson’s Trinity College. He ditched concern for small government and free markets in favor of vicious anti-immigrant fervor, endless culture war food fights, and the now familiar MAGA embrace of foreign despots including Vladimir Putin and Viktor Orban. These strongmen, like Trump, were packaged for Fox’s aging audience as warriors on behalf of Real Americans whose lives and values were under siege from shadowy forces attacking from all sides and within.

Carlson did take on some of Trump’s more useful rhetoric around American workers who’ve been left behind by ruthless corporate behavior and a government too often in thrall to the same interests. (He illustrated this part of his new persona well in a recent interview with Ben Shapiro, who remains a more traditional servant to the American money power.) But like Trump’s shtick, it was all a show. When it comes down to it, nobody said it better than a Dutch historian whom Carlson invited on in 2019 to rail against the (deservedly railed-against) congregants at Davos only to refuse to air the interview when he got owned too hard: “What the Murdoch family basically want you to do is to scapegoat immigrants instead of talking about tax avoidance,” Walker Bregman told him, adding he’s also worked for Koch Brothers-funded institutions. “It works by you taking their dirty money, it's as simple as that. You are a millionaire funded by billionaires, that's what you are.”

This overgrown frat sophomore should have been fired the morning after he declared that immigrants make the United States “poor and dirtier.” But that would have been impossible: he was selling the exact product Fox News had positioned itself to sell, and he was their best salesman. 

by Jack Holmes, Esquire |  Read more:

Image: Jason Koerner/Getty Images
[ed. Haha. Seems like the term schadenfruede might apply here. But, as the article suggests, this could be a net positive if it's a springboard for higher office (and why wouldn't it be... voters seem to love electing lying assholes these days). He's gotten used to living the good life, can't see him giving it up now. See also: this better than usual commentary by Bret Stephens: The Tragedy of Fox News (NYT):]

So am I gleeful? Not at all.

Part of it is the thought that, whatever Carlson does next, it will probably be even more unhinged and toxic than his previous incarnation: This is a guy whose career arc has moved from William F. Buckley wannabe to Bill O’Reilly wannabe to soon, I expect, Father Coughlin wannabe. Nobody should rule out the possibility of his going into politics, either as Donald Trump’s running mate or as the Republican Party’s compromise candidate between Trump and Ron DeSantis.

But there’s also the sense of what Fox might have become. Murdoch had an opportunity to build something the country genuinely needed in the mid-1990s, when the G.O.P. was moving away from the optimistic and responsible party of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush toward the angry populism of Newt Gingrich and Tom DeLay: an effective center-right counterbalance to the overwhelmingly liberal tilt (as conservatives usually see it) of most major news media.

In other words, instead of trying to surf a killer wave, Murdoch could have purchased a ship and steered it. It might not have had the ratings that Fox would get — though Fox was always about influence, as much as money, for Murdoch. But, executed well, it could have elevated conservatism in the direction of Burke, Hamilton and Lincoln, rather than debase it in the direction of Andrew Jackson, Joe McCarthy and Pat Buchanan.

Such a channel would still have been plenty conservative, in a way that most liberals would find infuriating. But it would also have defended the classically liberal core of intelligent conservatism: the idea that immigrants are an asset, not a liability; that the freedoms of speech and conscience must extend to those whose ideas we loathe; that American power ought to be harnessed to protect the world’s democracies from aggressive dictators; that we are richer at home by freely trading goods abroad; that nothing is more sacred than democracy and the rule of law; that patriotism is about preserving the capacity to criticize a country we love while loving the country we criticize.

This kind of channel will be more desperately needed in the future, as the unhinged populism unleashed by Murdoch sweeps everything in its path, from “establishment” Republicans to, quite possibly, Fox itself. The shame of Rupert Murdoch is that he wasn’t the man to do it. It doesn’t mean it can’t be done.

This Bud's For You

How Weed Strains Get Their (Amusing, Provocative, Downright Wacky) Names

I grew up smoking cannabis—or “pot,” as I called it until about 20 minutes ago—crouching in a fetid little nook between a dumpster and a stack of tires at the neighborhood Texaco station, a place that already smelled like shit and where a few puffs of smoke and a little coughing wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention.

If, like me, you came of age before legalization, you will recall one thing about procuring weed back in the day: You didn’t have a lot of choices. In fact, you had one: nickel bag or a dime bag. You couldn’t specify indica or sativa, flower or edible, tincture or rosin or vape. You couldn’t select your THC content. You couldn’t choose between OG Kush or Bombay Crush, between Cheese Dog and Chem Dawg, between Grape Ape and Gorilla Glue. No. You got whatever Danny’s older brother sold you. And you were stoked.

But that was then and this is now, and the cannabis space has entered a fascinating, fast-flowing moment where legalization—which begat commercialization, which begat corporatization, which begat commodification—has created today’s modern dispensary where the choices for consumers can be dizzying. As it turns out, there may be no better gauge of the changes rippling through cannabis culture than the humble menu at your local dispensary. Weed names have always added to the fun and intrigue (as a teen, even the relatively straightforward Thai Stick sounded entrancingly exotic), but today, as the power dynamic shifts from seller to buyer, and as growers and retailers find themselves strategizing to make their products stand out on increasingly crowded shelves, the names are taking on even more importance.

The names. Dear lord, the names. Strawberry Cough. Kosher Kush. Blueberry Mojito. Glueberry Slurm. Pineapple Trainwreck. Donkey Butter. Animal Face. Pink Panties. Purple Haze. Sour Joker. Sweet Jesus. Moby Dick. Fugu. Fatso.Tongue Kiss. Cat Piss.

Cat Piss?

Who comes up with this stuff … and how? Stoners trying to out-clever each other with inside stoner jokes about oblique stoner references? Advertising creatives at boutique firms working long hours in Stance socks? Gen Z focus groups run by blue-chip marketing firms with execs staring through one-way mirrors, scribbling notes?

The question of who names my weed has actually been banging around in my head since sometime late in 1978, when I was on the far side of 13 and my bar mitzvah money was burning a hole in my OP shorts. I’d managed to score a small bag of Maui Waui, and as a friend and I passed an anorexic doobie back and forth behind the Texaco tires, we ended up repeating the words Maui Waui Maui Waui—a name full of rhyme and promise—again and again until they became nothing more than strange sounds in our mouths. I never wondered about who grew my weed or even how it made its way to Danny’s older brother. I wondered who named it. Truth is, I still wonder about this every time I walk into a dispensary. And every time I walk out, small glass jar cupped in my hand.

I decided to find out. And what I learned from talking to folks up and down the weed chain—rock-star breeders and farmers, boutique retailers and publically traded cannabis corporations, a marketing exec who moved from Coca-Cola to cannabis—is not only who concocts these catchy names and how that concoction happens, but that legalization is quickly changing much about how naming will look in the future. “It’s a really complex time for naming,” one longtime farmer told me. That’s because as more people stream into the legalized market, the customer base is shape-shifting: We’re no longer talking about old hippies or young hip-hoppers but, well, everyone, from connoisseurs who focus on trichomes, terpenes, and terroir to juice-cleansed “I’ll have the tincture, please” wellness types to, well, my mom. There are no stats on hippie consumers, or on my mom, but in just the last four years, the percentage of women-buyers bumped from 38 to 49 percent. And with the average dispensary customer now dropping $52 a month, retailers are feverishly looking to fill their cases with more SKUs, which means more—and more eye-catching—names. As amusingly goofy as cannabis names often are, a lot of thought can go into selecting a name. (...)

I’m speaking with the man who gave the name “Outback” to Subaru, the name “Pentium” to Intel’s processor, the man who named the Swiffer, the Blackberry, the Impossible Burger, not to mention Dasani, Sonos, and Febreze. His name is David Placek, and David Placek and I are talking about weed. Specifically, we’re talking about the names given to cannabis strains and whether Placek, whose Sausalito-based Lexicon Branding has notched some 3,600 consumer product names, thinks the most popular strain names have a winning ring to them. If corporate America ever comes hard for cannabis names, Placek’s insights would likely filter onto dispensary labels.

by Bill Shapiro, Esquire |  Read more:

Image: Humboldt Seed Company’s Nutter Budder strain, sold by Burr’s Place/Kandid Kush

Tulsa Time

Something interesting is happening in Tulsa

This past weekend, I went on what was essentially a Birthright Trip to Tulsa, Oklahoma. My plane flight, accommodations, and food were all paid for with the explicit intention of convincing me, as a Jewish person, to move to Tulsa. This was an odd, fascinating experience, and I’m breaking my usual convention of not writing about my personal life because I think it’s interesting to share.

When I signed up for this trip, I had zero background for it. I saw a Facebook ad advertising free trips to Tulsa for young Jews and signed up because that seemed like an interesting thing to do. Even when I got to Tulsa, I still had very little context as to why I was there. I had to piece it together over the course of the weekend. To save you from the same detective work, I’ll just present it here.

Tulsa is in a weird spot. It’s a little over 100 years old, and has always been a frontier town. Its fortunes have waxed and waned with the oil and gas industry, which alternately produces millionaires, billionaires, and bankruptcies. The town itself was basically stolen from the Indians a bit over a hundred years ago, laid out on a grid, and then developed in fits and spurts as city tax revenues swelled and declined with its main industry. This means that Tulsa has some beautiful art deco buildings, a strange layout including massive parking lots in the middle of downtown and full on suburbs 5 minutes from the city center, and a still unsettled sense of place.

 

In the 80s and 90s, Tulsa experienced a decline. It got gross and dangerous. Starting in the late 90s, George Kaiser, a local billionaire (oil and gas, naturally, and then banking), decided to do something about it. He established the George Kaiser Family Foundation and then the Tulsa Community Foundation to house the assets of it. The Tulsa Community Foundation, with GKKF’s assets, rapidly grew into the second largest community foundation in the nation, behind only the Silicon Valley Community Foundation. It has over $4 billion in assets, and is almost completely unaccountable to anyone except the people who donate to it (namely, Tulsan billionaires). Because of its structure, it doesn’t even have the normal nonprofit requirements of donating 5% of its assets every year.

So, the single largest force in Tulsan civic life is an opaque, unaccountable community foundation funded mostly by George Kaiser and partially by Lynn Schusterman, who are two elderly Jewish billionaires. And what’s really weird is that this is happening in an otherwise normal, Bible Belt city of 1 million people (and a Jewish population of roughly 2000) with a median household income of $60k. Compare this to Silicon Valley, which has a median household income of $140k and no shortage of billionaires, and you’ll understand the Tulsa Community Foundation’s outsized impact.

By all reports, this has been a very positive relationship. The Tulsa Community Foundation (or, more specifically, the George Kaiser Family Foundation and, to a lesser extent, the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Foundation, as TCF is just a house for these family foundations) have spent enormous amounts of money trying to make Tulsa a better place to live. They’ve built multiple beautiful parks (including one incredible one called the Gathering Place), a children’s museum, revitalized downtown, launched scores of programs to improve the lives of Tulsa’s underprivileged children, created Tulsa Remote (which offers $10k and relocation assistance for any remote worker to move to Tulsa for one year), and funded a bunch of different business assistance programs. And all of this is just off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about.

The tide that George Kaiser is beating back is, of course, Tulsa’s natural decay as a midwest, Bible Belt city. Throughout the 90s and 2000s, every young person who could afford to leave Tulsa did so. This included Tulsa’s Jewish population, which declined from about 5000 in the 90s to less than half that number today.

And that’s where my weekend comes in. I visited Tulsa through Tulsa Tomorrow, a program that flies out young Jews to Tulsa for a weekend to try to get them to live there. So far, from their own numbers, they’ve flown out about 150 Jews over the last 6 years and about 70-80 have moved.

Tulsa Tomorrow is partially funded by George Kaiser, but it’s mostly funded by the rest of Tulsa’s Jewish community, with the majority coming from a local family who made their fortune as a fabric distributor. The scion of that family, Dave, was, not coincidentally, one of our main hosts for the weekend.

The pitch that Dave and his fellow Tulsan Jews made to us was simple. In Tulsa, your dreams can come true.

Of course, they didn’t pitch it quite like that. Instead, they put it something like this: Tulsa itself has a few natural advantages. It has cheap housing (e.g. $350k for a 4 bed, 2 bathroom house 5 minutes from downtown), mostly warm weather in the winters, and zero traffic. Also, recently, Tulsa itself has become a cute, fun city, thanks in large part to the largesse of George Kaiser. Over the course of our visit, we were shown museums, a Tiki bar, a hip brunch place, and a dueling piano bar. We were also told that we had just missed a Journey concert, and that Lizzo was coming to Tulsa shortly on her tour.

But that’s why to come to Tulsa more generally. More importantly, they wanted to pitch us on why to come to Tulsa as a Jew. Their argument here was basically that the Tulsan Jewish community is insanely well-resourced and organized. If you move here, they can pretty much guarantee you a nice job at a Jewish nonprofit and a social event every week at least. That’s not to mention all the social clubs and volunteer opportunities that are available through those nonprofits.

Meanwhile, if your ambitions stretch farther than that, that can also be accommodated. Over the course of the weekend, I heard from a bunch of people who had taken advantage of just that.

by Trevor Klee, Trevor Klee's Newsletter |  Read more:

Image: Playground section of the Gathering Place/uncredited

[ed. I hear stories about political relocations (eg. conservatives moving to northern Idaho and eastern Oregon; liberals to blue states/cities) and wonder if this type of targeting might increase, beyond the traditional approach of focusing on specific business sectors - tech, manufacturing, retail, etc.? Or one-off deal?]

Pausing AI Developments Isn't Enough. We Need to Shut it All Down

Eliezer Yudkowsky is a decision theorist from the U.S. and leads research at the Machine Intelligence Research Institute. He's been working on aligning Artificial General Intelligence since 2001 and is widely regarded as a founder of the field.

An open letter published today calls for “all AI labs to immediately pause for at least 6 months the training of AI systems more powerful than GPT-4.”

This 6-month moratorium would be better than no moratorium. I have respect for everyone who stepped up and signed it. It’s an improvement on the margin.

I refrained from signing because I think the letter is understating the seriousness of the situation and asking for too little to solve it.

The key issue is not “human-competitive” intelligence (as the open letter puts it); it’s what happens after AI gets to smarter-than-human intelligence. Key thresholds there may not be obvious, we definitely can’t calculate in advance what happens when, and it currently seems imaginable that a research lab would cross critical lines without noticing.

Many researchers steeped in these issues, including myself, expect that the most likely result of building a superhumanly smart AI, under anything remotely like the current circumstances, is that literally everyone on Earth will die (ed. emphasis added). Not as in “maybe possibly some remote chance,” but as in “that is the obvious thing that would happen.” It’s not that you can’t, in principle, survive creating something much smarter than you; it’s that it would require precision and preparation and new scientific insights, and probably not having AI systems composed of giant inscrutable arrays of fractional numbers.

Without that precision and preparation, the most likely outcome is AI that does not do what we want, and does not care for us nor for sentient life in general. That kind of caring is something that could in principle be imbued into an AI but we are not ready and do not currently know how.

Absent that caring, we get “the AI does not love you, nor does it hate you, and you are made of atoms it can use for something else.” (...)

To visualize a hostile superhuman AI, don’t imagine a lifeless book-smart thinker dwelling inside the internet and sending ill-intentioned emails. Visualize an entire alien civilization, thinking at millions of times human speeds, initially confined to computers—in a world of creatures that are, from its perspective, very stupid and very slow. A sufficiently intelligent AI won’t stay confined to computers for long. In today’s world you can email DNA strings to laboratories that will produce proteins on demand, allowing an AI initially confined to the internet to build artificial life forms or bootstrap straight to postbiological molecular manufacturing.

If somebody builds a too-powerful AI, under present conditions, I expect that every single member of the human species and all biological life on Earth dies shortly thereafter.

by Eliezer Yudowsky, Time |  Read more:

Image: Lon Tweeten
[ed. AI Alignment goes mainstream. See also: Artificial intelligence 'godfather' on AI possibly wiping out humanity: ‘It's not inconceivable’ (Fox):]
"Until quite recently, I thought it was going to be like 20 to 50 years before we have general purpose AI. And now I think it may be 20 years or less," Hinton predicted. Asked specifically the chances of AI "wiping out humanity," Hinton said, "I think it's not inconceivable. That's all I'll say."

Also this: 

I gave GPT-4 a budget of $100 and told it to make as much money as possible. I'm acting as its human liaison, buying anything it says to. Do you think it'll be able to make smart investments and build an online business? Follow along. (Jackson Greathouse Fall, Twitter thread).

Pear Ring

The social experiment that wants to end dating apps

News outlets are beating the drums about the Pear Ring, dubbed the world's biggest social experiment. Millions of people have reportedly joined this experiment that wants to end the culture of dating apps. But what is the Pear Ring, who should get one, and what are the likely outcomes of wearing it? Here are some answers.

According to its website, The Pear Ring is the opposite of engagement rings. Wearing one signals to others that an individual is single and looking to strike up a relationship. The website also claims that this is a real-life social experiment live in the U.S., U.K., Germany, Canada, and Australia and will be launched in other countries soon.

Why does one need a Pear Ring?

Dating apps have been the more accessible option for many individuals who find it hard to strike up conversations as the algorithms have been doing the hard work of matching people up. However, the chances of finding the right person have been low, even with the technology. Instead, the apps have further increased the likelihood of experiencing social anxiety and compounded the risks of having eating disorders among users, studies have shown.

The Pear Ring experiment attempts to move people away from the apps and help them make real-life connections. By wearing the green-colored ring, an individual makes known their availability for dating in the real world, increasing their chances of being hit up at the gym, bar, train, restaurant, wedding, or almost anywhere where more humans are around. (...)

With millions of rings already sold, one could argue that the ring is simply the insertion of consumerism in an activity that would have happened anyway. Moreover, wearing the ring gives others more authority to approach the person than empowering the wearer themselves.

by Ameya Paleja, Interesting Engineering |  Read more:

Image: Pear Ring

[ed. Pear-ring= pairing. Low tech.]

Jimmy Giuffrè

How Saxophonist Jimmy Giuffre Taught Me Organizational Theory (Honest Broker)

[ed. Wow. Next level.]

via:

Sinclair Broadcast Group

via:

[ed. Sinclair  Broadcast Group (Wikipedia), what an operation. Extremely dangerous to our democracy. Read the Wikipedia entry to get a full sense of how broad and deeply embeded this media corporation's tentacles are. See also: Sinclair Broadcast Group: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (HBO).]

via:

2008-2018: Seattle’s Transformative Decade

Between 2008 and 2017, Seattle added more than 100,000 people. For a Sun Belt metropolis, this is an average pace. For Seattle, with fewer than 84 square miles, the growth was staggering.

Comparisons can be found only in the 1890s and the first decade of the 20th century. In the former, Seattle almost doubled in population. Between 1900 and 1910, it grew from about 80,600, to more than 237,000.

The past decade also saw Seattle and the Puget Sound region solidify its place as one of the most economically potent spots in North America, with headquarters of two of the five Big Tech giants and a varied set of other assets. A diverse world city facing Asia for the Asian Century.

To be sure, not everyone is happy about it. This transformative period also saw housing grow more expensive, and traffic increase. The number of people panhandling on city streets or living in makeshift camps also increased. Collegial “Seattle nice” politics was replaced by a hard-left City Council where crowds of “activists” sometimes shout down other-thinking people who try to speak. A scandal forced out the mayor.

Longtime resident Connie De Roy says, “I have lived in Seattle for 63 years and have renounced this city as the home of my heart, even though I still live here. It’s a different place. I loved the Seattle I grew up in. It was a fun and special place back then.”

By most measures, it still is — this is one reason people keep moving here. But it’s much changed from 10 years ago. (...)

For such a fortunate place, the city overflows with new crises: the housing affordability crisis, inequality crisis, drug-abuse crisis, police-brutality crisis and homeless crisis.

All these are concerns, but the overuse of “crisis” makes it difficult to evaluate the severity of each, the national context, its particular effect in Seattle and constructive measures available. Or even to get our bearings.

The overheated environment is a direct result of a revolution in city politics. We’ve come a long way from stolid Mayor Greg Nickels, a center-liberal council and the famously slow “Seattle process.”

The decade saw a hard-left swing on City Council, backed by protests and large contingents of activists attending municipal meetings. A Socialist Alternative candidate, Kshama Sawant, was elected in 2013. Outrage became a dominant theme.

How this came about should intrigue historians and political scientists for decades. (...)

Decades of arbitrary measurements. Yet the 10 years from 2008 to 2018 transformed Seattle and the nation. One question is how much they set a trajectory for the future, too. (...)

Even if Democrats gain the gerrymandered Congress this year and Trump loses the White House in 2020, precious time has been lost in combating human-caused climate change. Seattle weather is already turned screwy. Valuable fisheries are at risk. Climate refugees from the Southwest could make the population growth of the past decade look like a trickle.

Do the changes seen over this past turbulent decade give us a preview of what’s to come?

Some are undoubtedly turning points here to stay — a larger, denser city; the primacy of the knowledge economy; and more conflict in politics, among them.

by Jon Talton, Seattle Times |  Read more:

Image: David Miller/The Seattle Times
[ed. The traffic and parking headaches, oy...]

Frank Sinatra Has a Cold

In the winter of 1965, writer Gay Talese arrived in Los Angeles with an assignment from Esquire to profile Frank Sinatra. The legendary singer was approaching fifty, under the weather, out of sorts, and unwilling to be interviewed. So Talese remained in L.A., hoping Sinatra might recover and reconsider, and he began talking to many of the people around Sinatra—his friends, his associates, his family, his countless hangers-on—and observing the man himself wherever he could. The result, "Frank Sinatra Has a Cold," ran in April 1966 and became one of the most celebrated magazine stories ever published, a pioneering example of what came to be called New Journalism—a work of rigorously faithful fact enlivened with the kind of vivid storytelling that had previously been reserved for fiction. The piece conjures a deeply rich portrait of one of the era's most guarded figures and tells a larger story about entertainment, celebrity, and America itself.

Frank Sinatra, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something. But he said nothing; he had been silent during much of the evening, except now in this private club in Beverly Hills he seemed even more distant, staring out through the smoke and semidarkness into a large room beyond the bar where dozens of young couples sat huddled around small tables or twisted in the center of the floor to the clamorous clang of folk-rock music blaring from the stereo. The two blondes knew, as did Sinatra's four male friends who stood nearby, that it was a bad idea to force conversation upon him when he was in this mood of sullen silence, a mood that had hardly been uncommon during this first week of November, a month before his fiftieth birthday.

Sinatra had been working in a film that he now disliked, could not wait to finish; he was tired of all the publicity attached to his dating the twenty-year-old Mia Farrow, who was not in sight tonight; he was angry that a CBS television documentary of his life, to be shown in two weeks, was reportedly prying into his privacy, even speculating on his possible friendship with Mafia leaders; he was worried about his starring role in an hour-long NBC show entitled Sinatra—A Man and His Music, which would require that he sing eighteen songs with a voice that at this particular moment, just a few nights before the taping was to begin, was weak and sore and uncertain. Sinatra was ill. He was the victim of an ailment so common that most people would consider it trivial. But when it gets to Sinatra it can plunge him into a state of anguish, deep depression, panic, even rage. Frank Sinatra had a cold.

Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel—only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, love him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability. A Sinatra with a cold can, in a small way, send vibrations through the entertainment industry and beyond as surely as a President of the United States, suddenly sick, can shake the national economy.

For Frank Sinatra was now involved with many things involving many people—his own film company, his record company, his private airline, his missile-parts firm, his real-estate holdings across the nation, his personal staff of seventy-five—which are only a portion of the power he is and has come to represent. He seemed now to be also the embodiment of the fully emancipated male, perhaps the only one in America, the man who can do anything he wants, anything, can do it because he has money, the energy, and no apparent guilt. In an age when the very young seem to be taking over, protesting and picketing and demanding change, Frank Sinatra survives as a national phenomenon, one of the few prewar products to withstand the test of time. He is the champ who made the big comeback, the man who had everything, lost it, then got it back, letting nothing stand in his way, doing what few men can do: he uprooted his life, left his family, broke with everything that was familiar, learning in the process that one way to hold a woman is not to hold her. Now he has the affection of Nancy and Ava and Mia, the fine female produce of three generations, and still has the adoration of his children, the freedom of a bachelor, he does not feel old, he makes old men feel young, makes them think that if Frank Sinatra can do it, it can be done; not that they could do it, but it is still nice for other men to know, at fifty, that it can be done. (...)

The two blondes, who seemed to be in their middle thirties, were preened and polished, their matured bodies softly molded within tight dark suits. They sat, legs crossed, perched on the high bar stools. They listened to the music. Then one of them pulled out a Kent and Sinatra quickly placed his gold lighter under it and she held his hand, looked at his fingers: they were nubby and raw, and the pinkies protruded, being so stiff from arthritis that he could barely bend them. He was, as usual, immaculately dressed. He wore an oxford-grey suit with a vest, a suit conservatively cut on the outside but trimmed with flamboyant silk within; his shoes, British, seemed to be shined even on the bottom of the soles. He also wore, as everybody seemed to know, a remarkably convincing black hairpiece, one of sixty that he owns, most of them under the care of an inconspicuous little grey-haired lady who, holding his hair in a tiny satchel, follows him around whenever he performs. She earns $400 a week. The most distinguishing thing about Sinatra's face are his eyes, clear blue and alert, eyes that within seconds can go cold with anger, or glow with affection, or, as now, reflect a vague detachment that keeps his friends silent and distant. (...)

Now Sinatra said a few words to the blondes. Then he turned from the bar and began to walk toward the poolroom. One of Sinatra's other men friends moved in to keep the girls company. Brad Dexter, who had been standing in the corner talking to some other people, now followed Sinatra.

The room cracked with the clack of billiard balls. There were about a dozen spectators in the room, most of them young men who were watching Leo Durocher shoot against two other aspiring hustlers who were not very good. This private drinking club has among its membership many actors, directors, writers, models, nearly all of them a good deal younger than Sinatra or Durocher and much more casual in the way they dress for the evening. Many of the young women, their long hair flowing loosely below their shoulders, wore tight, fanny-fitting Jax pants and very expensive sweaters; and a few of the young men wore blue or green velour shirts with high collars and narrow tight pants, and Italian loafers.

It was obvious from the way Sinatra looked at these people in the poolroom that they were not his style, but he leaned back against a high stool that was against the wall, holding his drink in his right hand, and said nothing, just watched Durocher slam the billiard balls back and forth. The younger men in the room, accustomed to seeing Sinatra at this club, treated him without deference, although they said nothing offensive. They were a cool young group, very California-cool and casual, and one of the coolest seemed to be a little guy, very quick of movement, who had a sharp profile, pale blue eyes, blondish hair, and squared eyeglasses. He wore a pair of brown corduroy slacks, a green shaggy-dog Shetland sweater, a tan suede jacket, and Game Warden boots, for which he had recently paid $60.

Frank Sinatra, leaning against the stool, sniffling a bit from his cold, could not take his eyes off the Game Warden boots. Once, after gazing at them for a few moments, he turned away; but now he was focused on them again. The owner of the boots, who was just standing in them watching the pool game, was named Harlan Ellison, a writer who had just completed work on a screenplay, The Oscar.

Finally Sinatra could not contain himself.

"Hey," he yelled in his slightly harsh voice that still had a soft, sharp edge. "Those Italian boots?"

"No," Ellison said.

"Spanish?"

"No."

"Are they English boots?"

"Look, I donno, man," Ellison shot back, frowning at Sinatra, then turning away again.

Now the poolroom was suddenly silent. Leo Durocher who had been poised behind his cue stick and was bent low just froze in that position for a second. Nobody moved. Then Sinatra moved away from the stool and walked with that slow, arrogant swagger of his toward Ellison, the hard tap of Sinatra's shoes the only sound in the room. Then, looking down at Ellison with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tricky little smile, Sinatra asked: "You expecting a storm?"

Harlan Ellison moved a step to the side. "Look, is there any reason why you're talking to me?"

"I don't like the way you're dressed," Sinatra said.

"Hate to shake you up," Ellison said, "but I dress to suit myself."

Now there was some rumbling in the room, and somebody said, "Com'on, Harlan, let's get out of here," and Leo Durocher made his pool shot and said, "Yeah, com'on."

But Ellison stood his ground.

Sinatra said, "What do you do?"

"I'm a plumber," Ellison said.

"No, no, he's not," another young man quickly yelled from across the table. "He wrote The Oscar."

"Oh, yeah," Sinatra said, "well I've seen it, and it's a piece of crap."

"That's strange," Ellison said, "because they haven't even released it yet."

"Well, I've seen it," Sinatra repeated, "and it's a piece of crap."

Now Brad Dexter, very anxious, very big opposite the small figure of Ellison, said, "Com'on, kid, I don't want you in this room."

"Hey," Sinatra interrupted Dexter, "can't you see I'm talking to this guy?"

Dexter was confused. Then his whole attitude changed, and his voice went soft and he said to Ellison, almost with a plea, "Why do you persist in tormenting me?"

The whole scene was becoming ridiculous, and it seemed that Sinatra was only half-serious, perhaps just reacting out of sheer boredom or inner despair; at any rate, after a few more exchanges Harlan Ellison left the room. By this time the word had gotten out to those on the dance floor about the Sinatra-Ellison exchange, and somebody went to look for the manager of the club. But somebody else said that the manager had already heard about it—and had quickly gone out the door, hopped in his car and drove home. So the assistant manager went into the poolroom.

by Gay Talese, Esquire |  Read more:

Image: uncredited