A very short video account of amazing but true things that can actually go wrong when you publish a book:
1. In this country politicians use polls to try to figure out what people want, and then offer it to them in order to get elected.
2. In the social sciences and even in some of the hard sciences, you can often only get tenure if you publish in the sanctioned journals in the sanctioned style.
I went to the NY Film Festival for the first time in years last night and saw David Cronenberg’s A Dangerous Method, a movie about the interactions between Jung, Freud, and Sabina Spielrein who was Jung’s mistress, Jung and Freud’s joint patient sequentially, and an eventual analyst herself.
It was consistently absorbing, but I wouldn’t say more than that.
What I did find thought-provoking was its recreation of the impact of psychoanalysis as a technique. I got a glimpse of how revolutionary it must have seemed, not just because of its focus on infantile sexuality, but even more so because of its use of what they refer to as the dangerous method, by which they mean the talking cure, the idea that you can treat what appears to be an organic or seized-by-spirits illness by words, by access to the mind through its natural outputs. (I suppose in a way it isn’t that different from putting spells on people, and therefore not that new really. Yuri Manin in one of his books refers to the fact that hypnosis is impossible without the invention of language.)
According to Spinoza, to whom I devote a chapter in my book Models.Behaving.Badly, everything in the universe has a Thought attribute and an Extension attribute, i.e. a mental and physical side. Our temptation these days is to give major weight to the physical and regard the mental as a byproduct. But Spinoza thought (and I like the idea) that the two were but complementary sides (and there are more than two, he insisted) of the same underlying thing, and that one aspect can’t explain the other.
In this article on nightmares in the WSJ, there is the following paragraph:
Modern psychiatrists, led by Allan Hobson of Harvard Medical School, believe dreams are electrical pulses from the brain stem randomly bombarding the center of the brain where visual memories are stored, creating kaleidoscopes of images around which the brain concocts stories.
Here is the same paragraph, with one word changed:
Modern psychiatrists, led by Allan Hobson of Harvard Medical School, believe thoughts are electrical pulses from the brain stem randomly bombarding the center of the brain where visual memories are stored, creating kaleidoscopes of images around which the brain concocts stories.
Does that count as an explanation?
I came across a very interesting post by Sam Harris about the difficulties of getting paid for being an artist, a writer, or a public intellectual.
It caught my attention for two reasons: first because I discovered that there are many websites with pirated PDFs of My Life as a Quant. Second because, in working on my current book, I thought that the writing was going to be the hard part. That part was actually fun most of the time. But since then, encouraged by the marketing people at my publisher who are basically too overwhelmed to do much for me, I’ve found that marketing takes more time and even more nervous energy, and causes (at least for me) much more gut-wrenching than the writing. Basically, you are supposed to run around and shout, very loudly, “Look at me.” I try to do that as much as my inbred reticence will allow. (And I’m getting better at it.)
To be fair, Look At Me is probably what any writer or even scientist wants. This is a quote from a 1950s letter from Norman Mailer to William Styron:
Having been a scientist, one of my major pet peeves is the naïve use of science. Let me give you several examples.
The influential biologist and evangelistic atheist Richard Dawkins wrote in the Los Angeles Times several years ago about what he called the scientific “vandalism” involved in hanging Saddam Hussein:
“Hussein’s mind would have been a unique resource for historical, political and psychological research, a resource that is now forever unavailable to scholars. … Psychologists, struggling to understand how an individual human being could be so evil … would give their eye teeth for such a rich research subject. Political scientists … have now lost key evidence forever.”
On my way to New York from South Africa in the Sixties, I stopped in Israel. It was midsummer, and in Ramat Gan where I stayed for a few weeks, people sat out at night on their breezeless balconies and played cards till late. Food vendors sold sunflower seeds on the street; people popped them into their mouths and then split them with their teeth, swallowed the core and spat out the shell through the bus window in one continuous mouth-teeth-tongue movement, no hands. Streets, apartment and balconies merged into a kind of shared outdoorsiness. I’d never seen it before and I liked it.
When I came to New York a few weeks later, I was taken aback. The ride from JFK to Manhattan was ugly and bumpy (though probably still better than today). It was globally dramatic (the skyline) but locally dispiriting (the disrepair in front of you). New York was nice from far but far from nice. I lived in a dormitory on the Upper West Side at the edge of Harlem. There were no telephones in rooms and no AC. The corridors looked prison-like, green lower half and white upper half, and the guards at the entrances confirmed that view. I was UNimpressed.
The first thing that struck me after I got over my shock at being 10,000 miles from everything I knew was how foreign everyone was. New York was a polyglot city of immigrants. People around me spoke Spanish and Yiddish and Italian and German. Middle-aged men and women with concentration camp numbers on their arms ran local luncheonettes. The deli store run by immigrants nearby on Broadway and 123rd Street sold chocolate-covered ants. The pizza store we refueled at late at night right next to it was run by real Italian-speaking Italians, an enormously large Mama on a metal folding chair scowling at her dapper grey-haired flour-dusted husband who combed his hair as he eyed the girls. Puerto Ricans sat out on their stoops till late at night smoking and talking. Though it didn’t look like it, New York reminded me of the Tel Aviv I’d just left, a city of immigrants who lived out on a street that encompassed the entire city. New York was a Mediterranean or Caribbean town, the only American one like that, at least at that time.
For a couple of years now I’ve had a bad feeling about the field of finance. Though I often inveighed against the mechanical use of models, I didn’t damn the entire endeavor. I still don’t, but the other day, talking to a colleague who was much younger than me, I discovered that we had somewhat similar sentiments. Mine are summarized as follows. I hope it’s just a mood.
Neoclassical finance, the entire structure that includes the efficient market model, Brownian motion, stochastic calculus, the capital asset pricing model, and of course Black-Scholes-Merton, is a beautiful comprehensive far-reaching discipline. It describes a risky system and its consequences elegantly and sparely, and provides lots of insight. I like it. Unfortunately, the real world is more complicated.
One of the responses to that complexity is behavioral finance. This started out with prospect theory as an attempt to provide a comprehensive new foundation for finance and economics. It hasn’t turned out that way. That part of behavioral finance is by and large ignored. Instead, its proponents have streamed off into two directions. The first is neuro/psycho finance, filled with papers discussing brain scans of traders and their risk appetite, which isn’t really finance at all, but belongs (if it belongs anywhere outside of grant applications) in a psychology department. The second is the study of how people react to choice, a collection of mildly interesting statistical studies of CEOs and investors that mostly confirm what everyone knew before, and whose results are most useful in justifying various paternalistic social policies. None of it adds up to a comprehensive discipline; it seems to be mostly strategies for writing papers.
If God had only had a committee of business writers to help him, I think he could have done a better job: Single Author The Committee Version 1 I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before me.
Our assets are our people, our culture, and our Lord, who motivated us to leave Egypt with a determination that has become our ultimate hallmark. Experience shows that if we serve the Lord well, our own success will follow.
You shall not make unto you any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.
We make an unusual effort to avoid serving anyone else but the Lord.
The threat of severe punishment unto the third and fourth generation is intended to align our interests with those of the Lord.
I grew up in a post-WWII world where, temporarily, because of their capacity to create devices that wreak destruction, physicists had lots of influence in government. Think Einstein, Oppenheimer, Teller. By the time I went to graduate school at Columbia, the U.S. was involved in Vietnam, and a new bunch of much younger physicists were active in JASON, a Government advisory group. There were many protests against JASON at Columbia in the Sixties, as a result of mild-mannered physicists writing reports with titles (I recall) like “Interdiction of Trucks By Night,” apparently to do with bombing the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Recently someone claimed that JASON stood for “Junior Achiever, Somewhat Older Now” which captured the hubris of scientists at the time. Influence and power is seductive.
Those days are over. The Cold War is faded, and the Superconducting Collider is dead. No one cares too much about physicists any more, and won’t, unless the string theorists can come up with a doomsday weapon. (Actually, there’s a 2005 Herman Wouk novel about the political consequences of a Higgs boson gap between the U.S. and China.)
Physicists had only indirect political influence; their ability to accurately harness nature’s powers via pure science and accurate engineering based on that science gave them power over presidents, and made people think they might be smart about other things too. Biologists are the real 21st Century physicists in that sense, and, like them, in the long run have the larger influence on the future. As Feynman wrote about Maxwell, “From a long view of the history of mankind — seen from, say, ten thousand years from now, there can be little doubt that the most significant event of the 19th century will be judged as Maxwell’s discovery of the laws of electrodynamics. The American Civil War will pale into provincial insignificance in comparison with this important scientific event of the same decade.” There are biologists like Darwin and Watson and Crick for whom the same is true.