General
This is longer than my usual diary entries, even, because it relates
to the whole weekend. If you don't like this,
click here to skip to the end of this
entry (via a "#" link). Thanks.
I stayed in San Francisco on Friday and went to the Linuxcare company lunch
and meeting. (Company lunch: pasta and pizza. This subsequently made
me think about the lack of Passover-friendly food; see below.)
In the afternoon, Duncan and I worked on the Bootable Business Card. I
hadn't had time to work on it at all recently, because I was out doing
other work for Linuxcare.
I heard from my friend Anirvan, who's
read my Advogato diary, and sent me a message about it.
He had a number of very interesting comments on the phenomenon of web logs
and web diaries.
Welcome to dmarti.
("Don Marti rules.")
Berkeley
In the evening, I went over to Berkeley. After having dinner with one
friend, I went to Douglas Hofstadter's lecture, where I saw nine
people I knew. (Hmmmm, you don't suppose I tend to meet people who
would know who Douglas Hofstadter is, do you?)
I enjoyed Hofstadter's talk, and found it interesting. He discussed
the various uses of "guy" (basically "a person" versus "a male
person"), and some problems caused by these uses.
On the other hand, this talk was really not as exciting as other things
Hofstadter has done. I heard him give a talk on translating poetry, a
year or so ago, and it was more exciting. On the subject of sexism in
language, Hofstadter's essay "A Person Paper on Purity in Language" (in
Metamagical
Themas) was much better, and I recommend it highly. There, he
was completely dedicated to the point that sexism is language is an important
and challenging issue, and he proved that point admirably.
One friend of mine was annoyed that Hofstadter had mixed descriptive
linguistics (here are some ways that different people use "guy" in
different situations) with prescriptive social activism (the implication
that you should not use "guy" to refer to women, because of the negative
consequences of doing so). Academic linguists usually do not mix
prescriptive and descriptive treatments of language (and usually shy
away from the prescriptive entirely, at least insisting that it does
not belong to linguistics). My friend believed that Hofstadter crossed
back and forth too carelessly.
I certainly respect Hofstadter a lot for his activism, as well as for
his incredible academic work. (You can see some activist essays in
Metamagical Themas, where there are several chapters on the challenges
of preventing nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet
Union, in addition to the discussions of sexism in language. Hofstadter
was courageous to decide to present these issues to his geek-and-linguist
audience, and he used his talents well when he did so.) But I
can appreciate the criticism that activist commentary and academic
analysis don't always mix well. I think that, in this case, Hofstadter's
talk would have been better if it had been more firmly on one side or
the other. Very possibly, fewer people would have come to hear it.
Of course, it's very possible to be led to moral conclusions through
academic work -- but people who present them together as such are going to
be on pretty thin ice a lot of the time.
I'd like to see Hofstadter come back and talk about translation or
concepts or fluidity in lexical categories or metaphors (maybe he could
debate George Lakoff?), and then give a separate talk about sexism. I'd
attend both.
Philosophiae, Quinte, semper vaco
After the talk, I was invited to a friend's house for what was originally
billed as a discussion of what we'd just heard. The basic idea was
that a number of people interested in philosophy or linguistics or
cognitive science should come for a party at which we would all chat
about Hofstadter's ideas.
This was a good idea, although it didn't necessarily come off
exactly as planned: the amount of Hofstadter discussion was fairly small
compared to other stuff. We had some fairly wide-ranging conversations.
I really had a lot of fun, and met some very interesting people. Maybe
I should try to throw parties and get people talking to each other.
That is a new idea for me; would it count toward my collaboration
rating? :-)
Agreeing with Paul
The "I Agree With Paul" campaign was a big deal and a big topic of
discussion all day, as well as at the party I went to. The basic
idea was that some evangelical Protestant student groups got someone
(a Berkeley student named Paul Lai) to write a personal statement of
faith, whereupon almost all of their membership expressed their agreement
with Paul's statement, and spent Holy Week ("Paul Week"?)
wearing orange
"I agree with Paul" shirts. (I'd like to link to Paul's statement,
but I don't believe that it's online anywhere; it was printed in an
ad in the Daily Cal, and on a
few flyers.)
Amazingly, the evangelists did not register iagreewithpaul.com,
iagreewithpaul.org, agreewithpaul.com, or agreewithpaul.org -- which I
really would somehow have expected of a Bay Area movement run by
twenty-year-olds. Not even paulweek.org. Hmmmm.
A couple of non-evangelical Christian friends told me that they were
unhappy with the campaign, either because they felt that it was either
hurting the solemnity or seriousness of religion, or because they did
not agree with Christian evangelism in general.
I thought that the campaign was very effective because it got
so many people to think about it and talk about it (and to do things
like spend time writing Advogato diary entries about it). In fact,
other campus groups started using the "I agree with..." formula in
their own advertising. (I saw "Do you agree with Hofstadter?" flyers!)
Some anti-Christian or anti-evangelical students ended up wearing their
own orange t-shirts with other slogans (mostly "I agree with Nietzsche",
which is actually a more complicated proposition than some people may
have realized).
From the point of view of "exposing people who have never really heard
about it to the gospel", even getting people to wear shirts that say
that they disagree with Paul (of Tarsus, no doubt, as well as
Paul Lai) is a great success. Many evangelists have said that the
biggest problem is when people ignore their message -- not when people
disagree with it. Every person who sees an anti-Paul shirt will
thereby at least think about what Paul had to say, right?
I mean, I remember that lots of Linux activists were really happy when
Microsoft started criticizing Linux, and running anti-Linux material on
its web site. There are many reasons for this, including a peculiar sense
of validation. Previously, Microsoft had scrupulously and deliberately
ignored Linux, in a way that made it look completely out of touch with
the technical community. By expressing its view that Linux was worthless,
Microsoft proved that it thought that Linux was at least a worthy
competitor, worth spending time and money to discredit.
And, in fact, by criticizing Linux, Microsoft made (in some people's
view, certainly not everyone's) the PR battle turn from a fight to
prove that Linux exists to a fight to prove that Linux
is better. (Remember when the big problem for the spread of
Linux was that nobody outside of hard-core geek circles had
heard of the thing? Now, for the first time, we have large
numbers of people trying Linux who subsequently actually don't
like it and don't becoming Linux users! Previously, self-selection
and other factors made this sort of thing fairly uncommon.)
So, even spending the time to argue against something helps keep it on
people's minds, and helps send the message that you believe, and can
understand, that someone might well at least find it worth
considering. It lends credibility, or, if not
credibility, at least an appearance of significance. Every single
person who wears a shirt for or against the "I agree with Paul" campaign
helps send the message to the public that he or she thinks that the
question of who Jesus was is actually a question worth spending time and
effort on. (This diary entry is itself also a victory of exactly the same
sort I'm describing.)
So this is the strange and indirect triumph of the campaign, completely
outside of how many people are converted directly by what they hear on
Sproul Plaza. But the tactics are certainly making some observers very
uneasy.
I guess my biggest problem with the campaign is that, for some people,
it seems to reduce religion (and fundamental questions of theism and
theology) to the level of a t-shirt slogan. The idea of uniting around
a formal, common statement of belief is pretty old, and pretty common
in Christianity. But these statements are traditionally longer, more
sophisticated, and then also more elaborately justified, discussed, and
understood.
The
Nicene Creed
is the statement of faith with which I'm most familiar. It
(like the MIT X license) is certainly very concise. But that creed is the
result of very sophisticated thought and discussion, and has a very detailed
justification. In some sense, it was a major intellectual accomplishment.
(I realize that some people,
including some people who believe the Nicene Creed, don't think that
that is an obvious virtue of a religious doctrine.)
The t-shirt slogan "I agree with Paul" is just not comparable to a
religious tradition like that. It's just not as serious; it doesn't
rely on or appeal to the same tradition of theological discussion. I
guess that what I'm getting at is that religious t-shirt slogans seem
sort of anti-intellectual to me, in comparison with other evangelical
tactics like writing books. Last week, I was talking to someone about
St. Anselm's
ontological
argument for the existence and perfection of God, and (shortly
afterward) reading some of Phillip Johnson's work, like
Reason in the Balance,
and criticisms of it, like Tower of Babel.
It seems to me that this is a much better (more respectful, more
committed, more fruitful?) approach to the question of God's existence
(and the truth of particular religions, claimed divine revelations, etc.)
than the apparent alternative:
Oh yeah? Well, I have an orange shirt!
You do not!
Do too!
Do not!
Do too!
The last word probably belongs to the student who supposedly showed up
somewhere in an "I agree with Kierkegaard" shirt.
Local law
I've been thinking further about
kelly's comments
about the "local law" provisions in licenses.
I'm familiar by now with the difference between a conditional license
and a contract (although there are lots of efforts to prove that the
GPL should be read as creating a contractual relationship, in order
to make it irrevocable). I would like to know more about the
consequences of different kinds of language in non-contractual licenses,
and, for example, what happens if you put a severability clause or
a non-severability clause in a non-contract license.
I'm still looking for ways to make people feel comfortable not
requiring compliance with local law. :-) (This because I still think
that doing so would violate the OSD, DSFG, etc., although I'm not sure I
could convince people of this claim.)
There are also some subtle questions about the interaction between
civil and criminal law (e.g. depraved indifference, contracts used to
aid criminal purposes, other weird situations). The problem is that
I originally only really wanted to learn about intellectual property
stuff, but it seems impossible to have a good understanding of only
one portion of a legal system -- like having a good understand of only
one portion of science, maybe?
I'm probably going to need to think about the local law stuff, although
maybe we can ask the lawyers who proposed this new license what they were
trying to accomplish with that provision.
Food
Passover always makes me think a lot about what people eat and what they
don't eat, and what they believe about what they eat, and what they
believe about what other people eat, and what the social, political,
and interpersonal consequences of these things are.
Some of these things are quite political, so to speak.
I mean, there was a big flamewar at my high school once upon a time on
our e-mail and conferencing system about the school's food policies.
Sorry, make that two flamewars. One was about whether animal rights
supporters were right to wish that the school served only vegetarian
food (the flamewar didn't reach the question of whether or not it was
right for the school to serve meat, but only whether it was right for
someone to wish that the school didn't serve meat). The other was about
whether the school or students should take what might be called nonintuitive
steps to satisfy the religious beliefs of Muslims at the school.
So, most people would probably say that the best approach is to speak of
courtesy rather than moral obligation.
I could outline quickly a few possible reasons for not eating something:
- "I have a moral or religious objection to people in general eating X"
- moral vegetarianism, religious vegetarianism
- politically-related boycotts (labor, trade, environmental issues)
- GMO activism
- "I have a moral or religious reason not to eat X myself at this time"
- any of the above
- religious dietary laws
- beliefs about processed foods, organic food, etc.
- "I have a 'mandatory' health reason not to eat X myself"
- I know someone who is allergic to gluten and someone who is allergic
to garlic
- "I have an 'elective' health reason (or other explicit elective reason)
not to eat X myself"
- being "on a diet"
- being vegetarian for long-term health reasons
- lots of other things
- "I don't like X"
- e.g., I don't like tomatoes
- "I don't feel like eating X"
What should you do if someone tells you any of the above things? How does
what you should do depend on other aspects of the situation you're in?
There's a lot more I could say about this, but the issues go off in all
different directions, and I don't know which thread to follow. I just
know that satisfying people's beliefs and rules around food is quite
difficult and provides examples of all kinds of other interesting
controversies.
I've heard some people get very unhappy because a large entity (firm,
school, conference...) did not properly account for their dietary rules.
(Passover is a common
occasion for this; perhaps someone at Linuxcare could have been upset that
absolutely everything served at lunch was chametz.) On the other hand,
I can probably find some examples where some of the same people would
not be upset that other dietary rules hadn't been accomodated.
So I guess that people tend to divide dietary rules into different
categories, and have different intuitions about the relative importance of
making accomodations for different rules.
Saturday
On Saturday, I went to Stacey's and got some fantastic stuff.
I got a copy of
Who is
Fourier?,
Recreations
in the Theory of Numbers (recommended by someone
here on Advogato), several other things, and a birthday present for a friend.
I went to dinner at Steps of Rome,
where I met my friend Ben. He came by and we talked for quite a while.
Sunday
stephane mentioned
Ukrainian Easter eggs, which prompted me to look up more information about
Galicia. (My family on my mother's side were supposedly mostly Galician
Jews, a century or two ago. According to what I found on the web, this means
they were likely Austro-Hungarian subjects for most of the time they lived
there. I don't know whether they lived in Western or Eastern Galicia.)
Galicia is one of these parts of Europe with a long and complex
history. Well, I guess all of Europe is like that.
I also talked to Nick
about the calculation of Easter. It is more complicated than I thought -- he
tells me that Old Calendarist and New Calendarist Orthodox Christians celebrate
Pascha on the same day (which may or may not be the same day the
Western churches do, in a given year), even though they celebrate other
holidays on different days.
(So there are actually three different ways in wide use of calculating
Christian holidays -- Western-style Gregorian, Eastern-style Gregorian, and
Eastern-style Julian.)
Since Nick and I weren't celebrating Easter today, we went out for Indian
food. We ran into Joey
on Muni. Then we ended up
at the new branch of Black Oak
Books in the City, which was fun. (I know some of the owners of
that store, and they happened to drop by while we were there.)
kjk is looking for
Vernor Vinge's "True Names"; I've been looking for that, too, for two
years, and I haven't found it, despite checking in a few dozen bookstores,
including science fiction bookstores. The book is True Names ... and Other
Dangers, and, well, they told me that it was going to be reprinted Real Soon
Now. It's very definitely out of print. (By the way, it's "Vernor"
rather than "Vernon".)
ObFreeSoftware: I first heard of Vernor Vinge through the
Jargon File
bibliography,
and then subsequently through the work of the American libertarian
anarchist economist
David D. Friedman (they cite each
other in connection with Vinge's story "The Ungoverned" and Friedman's book
The
Machinery of Freedom; Friedman's speaking on Sunday in Berkeley, and
anyone who's interested can e-mail me for details). But it turns out that
Vinge also has a connection to the free software world; he is an occasional
advisor to the FSF, and he's been a
judge on a panel for
the first FSF free software award.
I wrote to the FSF to ask what Vinge's connection was; they wrote back
and said, more or less, that he had been a long-time supporter of the
concept of free software.