They crept up yet another passageway, one that they had ascertained was, yet again, the only way up. As they reached the top they found a giant insect blocking their way; it looked rather like a six-foot ant. Three wolf spiders further back in the hall; each spider was grossly oversized by normal standards, but looked pathetic in comparison to Gregor, the roach king.
Quentin immobilised it with a spell, before the wolf spiders showed how dangerous they were by spitting paralysing poison at him. Salva kept them at bay with his stone gun, while Shu Ting and Karen set about the frozen Gregor with gusto. Margreet failed to send the spiders to sleep, but they seemed to have spent their venom on Quentin, and once Karen and Shu Ting had chopped the giant roach to pieces, just as the spell wore off, the spiders presented no challenge.
The venom wore off after a few minutes, which would easily have been long enough to be eaten if they had caught a man on his own.
The friends continued exploring, taking one of several exits from the hall. They found that the metal bridge they had seen earlier could be raised to cross the ravine higher up, but peering across the ravine showed that there was just some sort of sealed door on the other side. They followed the walkway along the ravine edge and came to an open space where a humanoid figure stood, counting things into a cloth bag as he looked out over a fantastic ocean vista.
"Hello there!" he ventured to the friends. The creature was dressed in a loincloth, but since he looked like a humanoid cross between a weasel and a chimpanzee he didn't have much to conceal. Margreet talked to him while Salva fiddled with a chest that was lying under an overhang on this secluded ledge in the cliffs, which they could see now were part of coastal mountains.
Burz, as he was called, explained a lot, and gave away more than he explained, although he did sometimes need prompting with a few gold pieces.
The building they had entered was a monastery complex; the monks, of a race called the Higardi, who were very human-like, had left the place deserted because they were seeking an object called the Destinae Dominus. Burz seemed to find the mission amusing because he knew that they wouldn't find it: it had been stolen a long time ago by a thief called Marten, whose legend seemed to arouse pride in Burz, more than outrage at the theft. Since he himself gave away that he was a looter, perhaps his empathy with a legendary thief was understandable.
Margreet and Quentin pored over his goods, and even experimented with mixing some of the potions they had found to try to make imitations of Burz's. It worked, and when he bought their powerful healing potions with glee, they bought his lesser potions and worked their magic on them. He wasn't the cleverest of creatures, but all agreed that even he might notice being fleeced by having his potions mixed and sold back to him on the spot.
Burz told them more about the surrounding area; he suggested that they hike to a nearby town called Arnika, the only major Higardi settlement in the area. He also highly recommended his home of Trynton. He was happy enough on the rocky ledge, so they gave up on the conversation, which was rendered difficult by his poor grasp of language. Whether this was his race's stupidity, his own, or his child-like nature which suggested that he might be young they couldn't tell.
They explored further, slaughtering the remains of the nest of giant roaches before finding, down another exit from that hall, what looked like a small chapel, with a statue at one end. Along the sides of the chamber were coffins. Karen pushed the lid off one, to shocked exclamations. Inside they found more money and some weapons. They took the loot, and proceeded to go down the side of the hall, pillaging the dead bodies.
The coffin at the end gave them their comeuppance, as a disembodied head floated out of the coffin with a shriek. The shriek reverberated in the room, knocking their thoughts from their minds. Karen, Margreet and Salva started babbling; Karen attacked Quentin with her sword, giggling gleefully, and Margreet thrust her short staff at him a couple of times while Salvador sat down and cackled to himself.
Quentin hit the head a couple of times but struggled to find the opportunity as he defended himself from his friends. It was left to Shu Ting to chop the thing up, its attempts to bite her and Karen proving fruitless. Once it had died Karen stopped her assault, and they soon recovered their senses, to much admonishment. Karen's mad giggling had clearly used up her quota of happiness, as she sank into one of her apologising moods. Shu Ting seemed unconcerned, her attempts to act stern and reprimanding, as always, seeming more cute than pained.
The last unblocked exit from the hall led to a room, again infested with wolf spiders, which they dispatched with ease, in which they found a large lever. Karen pulled it down, and a deep rumbling sound shook the room. They scooted out of it, back to the hall, only to find that the end of the hall, which had been blocked by a metal grille, now stood open. It was the last exit from the hall they could try, so onwards they went.
Monday, 4 January 2010
Sunday, 3 January 2010
The adventure
Once they had all ascertained that no-one was severely injured they looked around. Nearby a waterfall fell down a sheer cliff face at the point the beach petered out, leaving just shore and cliff. They set off together in the other direction.
The first sign of life that they found were some large crabs, about half a metre wide. The creatures seemed unconcerned at first, but as the friends approached they turned aggressively and started sidling over the sand towards them. The creatures were more agile than crabs ought to be, and one managed to nip Shu Ting in the leg. Salvador raised the strange contraption he had built and, pointing it at a crab, shot it with a stone.
But the crabs continued to hassle the friends, so Shu Ting hacked them apart with the two swords she'd saved from the wreck, and Quentin crushed the other with the length of metal he still carried. Using the fires from some of the burning wreckage they cooked and ate their first meal. It was a little gritty, but very tasty.
While eating they spotted a building on the other side of the inlet. It seemed to be inaccessible by climbing over the rocks, but the water looked shallow. In fact, they mused, the pool might even have been created by the crash. They waded out to the rocky point and found a clear sandy path leading out of the water, confirming that suspicion. As they climbed they found another group of crabs who once again attacked them. These were larger and stronger, but thankfully had soft, leathery shells.
Margreet and Quentin both tried the incantations they had learned on Grimpak's ship. Quentin's magical webbing sprayed forwards over the crabs, but they seemed to shrug it off and the magic dissipated. Margreet recited over a handful of water and blew the fluid at the crabs. It floated towards them and half the creatures went comatose.
Shu Ting and Karen chopped their way through the crabs, catching sleeping ones off-guard. A crab slashed Margreet badly, but they were soon dead, ready to provide another meal for the friends. The building turned out to be just a wooden gazebo, of the type found in gardens all over Earth. It was a peaceful spot, out on the headland, but not inhabited. They found some potions there and a strange musical intrument, but eventually returned to the beach. If the path came from the beach then there had to be a way off it.
They soon found a door hidden behind a great boulder. It creaked open, revealing a dark tunnel sloping upwards. Inside they saw oil lanterns mounted on the walls, so Quentin took one and lit it from the still hot embers of the crash. Margreet lit another one and the five set off into the tunnel, Karen and Shu Ting leading the way with their swords out. They encountered some very unfriendly living blobs of slime, but three swords and a staff splashed them apart before they could do anyone serious harm. The tunnel eventually rose up into the middle of a chamber with three exits. One was barred by a metal grille, securely bolted in place on the other side. The friends walked up a ramp to another room, where Margreet startled them with a shriek. A splash of corrosive goo had hit the wall next to her. They saw in the corridor beyond another slime.
Quentin tried his other incantation, a spell to immobilise an enemy, but nothing happened. He wondered if this magic lark wasjust an elaborate prank, before recalling the webbing he'd thrown over the crabs. The friends ran over to the slime and splashed it across the floor, but not before it splashed Margreet again.
This second room was a dead end, but it contained the first signs of inhabitation they'd seen. There were three bookshelves and a desk, mostly with financial records for something called 'The Brotherhood of the Ascension'. Margreet found and read a note on the table, written by a man who said that he had sent the brotherhood on a quest to find the 'Destinae Dominus', some sort of holy relic of theirs.
As she read, Quentin also read a book he'd found on the shelves; it was a magical tome of the sort they'd found before, teaching how to make magical light.
They advanced through the underground passages, encountering numerous slimes and some aggressive bats on the way. Salvador's accuracy with his gun got better, but his little stone pellets did little damage. Margreet and Quentin practised their magic; Quentin found that with a little concentration he could make the animals scared, although it backfired a couple of times, leaving the others cowering with fear, rather than their enemies. They picked up a few coins that the slimes carried in them; the slimes seemed unable to digest the hard metal. They found two dungeons, one with a very strange skeleton in it. The skeleton lay on the hard pallet, with two hooves hanging over the edge. The skull was elongated and had two horns protruding from it. As they searched the room, they found a tattered note complaining of the treatment. The prisoner seemed not to have been contented with bread and water. Quentin remarked
"We can see that from how skinny he is now. He didn't need to write it down."
Karen shushed him and read the rest, which mentioned that the weapons were still a threat to Al-Sedexus. They didn't know what it might mean, but it seemed best to keep the note in case they should ever need to ingratiate themselves with hooved, horned beasts. They'd be easy to recognise.
When they had finished exploring there was only one more way to go, and that was through a locked door. Salva had already disarmed a few poison-arrow traps in a couple of chests they'd found, and had no trouble picking the lock. As the door creaked open they heard a powerful clicking sound. It was yet another crab, but a monster, probably weighing as much as a man. The crab's claws were large enough to shear a limb off, and Quentin was glad that he had a weapon to stave it off with.
"I killed all the other crabs" Shu Ting said, "leave this one to me."
"You killed them all?" Quentin was shocked into replying "Didn't I get one?"
"With our help!" Margreet added at the same time.
"Are you sure?" Salva asked, holding his gun at the ready. A little stone pellet seemed unlikely to be of any use.
Shu Ting plunged her little short sword right into a gap in the crab's shell, helped in the effort because the king crab seemed to think that Karen was either a bigger threat or a tastier morsel. It died immediately.
Shu Ting looked smug.
They continued to look around, even finding the drinks cellar, where they poured what remained of the ale in the barrels and drank it. It wasn't good, but they weren't feeling demanding. The ale cellar was over a metal bridge which spanned a river in a deep ravine in the cliffs. It looked shallow, and the fish looked huge, so Quentin jumped in on top of one.
However, the fish was faster than he'd expected and dodged his staff. And more of the large fish swam around a rock top join it. He concentrated on a spell, and the fish fled for a few moments. Soon everyone was wading in the river and they slaughtered the fish in moments. Surprise hadn't worked, but swords did.
The dinner expedition swiftly ended as Karen was swept over by the current. They chased her down, but got caught in the flow as the river reached a waterfall. All five friends slid down the watery slope, panicking for their lives. They landed with a bump on a ledge half-way down the waterfall. They could see the very same bay that they'd just crashed in spread out below them. Shu Ting, never one for dramatic moments, interrupted by exclaiming,
"Look at this!"
"What is it?" Salvador humoured her
She held up a pouch which had been stuck in a crevice in the rock. The fabric was oiled to waterproof it. She looked inside and her face wrinkled.
"Urggh. It's just dust!"
"Let me see." demanded Margreet. She and Quentin scrambled through the water to examine the dust, and they both felt the magic within it.
"We'll keep it." Quentin said, plucking out of Shu Ting's hand and stuffing it into his pocket.
They took their time planning the slide down the fall to the shore, and enjoyed it much more as a consequence, before wearily trudging back up the corridors to the King Crab's room. They slept for the night amongst the barrels there.
Or they thought that they would. They were woken by giant rats, who seemed to find the taste of fresh Margreet quite irresistible. Margreet, ever the discriminating sleeping partner, was not happy with the would-be bed fellows, despite their avidity (or perhaps because of it). The rats had remarkably sharp claws and teeth, and it took a number of flashes and bangs from Margreet's rapidly expanding repertoire of alchemical attempts, and a lot of psychic fear from Quentin to stop them overwhelming the party all at once. But most of all it took a lot of sword slices.
The friends tended their wounds, with magical aid from both Quentin and Margreet, and settled down to rest again.
The first sign of life that they found were some large crabs, about half a metre wide. The creatures seemed unconcerned at first, but as the friends approached they turned aggressively and started sidling over the sand towards them. The creatures were more agile than crabs ought to be, and one managed to nip Shu Ting in the leg. Salvador raised the strange contraption he had built and, pointing it at a crab, shot it with a stone.
But the crabs continued to hassle the friends, so Shu Ting hacked them apart with the two swords she'd saved from the wreck, and Quentin crushed the other with the length of metal he still carried. Using the fires from some of the burning wreckage they cooked and ate their first meal. It was a little gritty, but very tasty.
While eating they spotted a building on the other side of the inlet. It seemed to be inaccessible by climbing over the rocks, but the water looked shallow. In fact, they mused, the pool might even have been created by the crash. They waded out to the rocky point and found a clear sandy path leading out of the water, confirming that suspicion. As they climbed they found another group of crabs who once again attacked them. These were larger and stronger, but thankfully had soft, leathery shells.
Margreet and Quentin both tried the incantations they had learned on Grimpak's ship. Quentin's magical webbing sprayed forwards over the crabs, but they seemed to shrug it off and the magic dissipated. Margreet recited over a handful of water and blew the fluid at the crabs. It floated towards them and half the creatures went comatose.
Shu Ting and Karen chopped their way through the crabs, catching sleeping ones off-guard. A crab slashed Margreet badly, but they were soon dead, ready to provide another meal for the friends. The building turned out to be just a wooden gazebo, of the type found in gardens all over Earth. It was a peaceful spot, out on the headland, but not inhabited. They found some potions there and a strange musical intrument, but eventually returned to the beach. If the path came from the beach then there had to be a way off it.
They soon found a door hidden behind a great boulder. It creaked open, revealing a dark tunnel sloping upwards. Inside they saw oil lanterns mounted on the walls, so Quentin took one and lit it from the still hot embers of the crash. Margreet lit another one and the five set off into the tunnel, Karen and Shu Ting leading the way with their swords out. They encountered some very unfriendly living blobs of slime, but three swords and a staff splashed them apart before they could do anyone serious harm. The tunnel eventually rose up into the middle of a chamber with three exits. One was barred by a metal grille, securely bolted in place on the other side. The friends walked up a ramp to another room, where Margreet startled them with a shriek. A splash of corrosive goo had hit the wall next to her. They saw in the corridor beyond another slime.
Quentin tried his other incantation, a spell to immobilise an enemy, but nothing happened. He wondered if this magic lark wasjust an elaborate prank, before recalling the webbing he'd thrown over the crabs. The friends ran over to the slime and splashed it across the floor, but not before it splashed Margreet again.
This second room was a dead end, but it contained the first signs of inhabitation they'd seen. There were three bookshelves and a desk, mostly with financial records for something called 'The Brotherhood of the Ascension'. Margreet found and read a note on the table, written by a man who said that he had sent the brotherhood on a quest to find the 'Destinae Dominus', some sort of holy relic of theirs.
As she read, Quentin also read a book he'd found on the shelves; it was a magical tome of the sort they'd found before, teaching how to make magical light.
They advanced through the underground passages, encountering numerous slimes and some aggressive bats on the way. Salvador's accuracy with his gun got better, but his little stone pellets did little damage. Margreet and Quentin practised their magic; Quentin found that with a little concentration he could make the animals scared, although it backfired a couple of times, leaving the others cowering with fear, rather than their enemies. They picked up a few coins that the slimes carried in them; the slimes seemed unable to digest the hard metal. They found two dungeons, one with a very strange skeleton in it. The skeleton lay on the hard pallet, with two hooves hanging over the edge. The skull was elongated and had two horns protruding from it. As they searched the room, they found a tattered note complaining of the treatment. The prisoner seemed not to have been contented with bread and water. Quentin remarked
"We can see that from how skinny he is now. He didn't need to write it down."
Karen shushed him and read the rest, which mentioned that the weapons were still a threat to Al-Sedexus. They didn't know what it might mean, but it seemed best to keep the note in case they should ever need to ingratiate themselves with hooved, horned beasts. They'd be easy to recognise.
When they had finished exploring there was only one more way to go, and that was through a locked door. Salva had already disarmed a few poison-arrow traps in a couple of chests they'd found, and had no trouble picking the lock. As the door creaked open they heard a powerful clicking sound. It was yet another crab, but a monster, probably weighing as much as a man. The crab's claws were large enough to shear a limb off, and Quentin was glad that he had a weapon to stave it off with.
"I killed all the other crabs" Shu Ting said, "leave this one to me."
"You killed them all?" Quentin was shocked into replying "Didn't I get one?"
"With our help!" Margreet added at the same time.
"Are you sure?" Salva asked, holding his gun at the ready. A little stone pellet seemed unlikely to be of any use.
Shu Ting plunged her little short sword right into a gap in the crab's shell, helped in the effort because the king crab seemed to think that Karen was either a bigger threat or a tastier morsel. It died immediately.
Shu Ting looked smug.
They continued to look around, even finding the drinks cellar, where they poured what remained of the ale in the barrels and drank it. It wasn't good, but they weren't feeling demanding. The ale cellar was over a metal bridge which spanned a river in a deep ravine in the cliffs. It looked shallow, and the fish looked huge, so Quentin jumped in on top of one.
However, the fish was faster than he'd expected and dodged his staff. And more of the large fish swam around a rock top join it. He concentrated on a spell, and the fish fled for a few moments. Soon everyone was wading in the river and they slaughtered the fish in moments. Surprise hadn't worked, but swords did.
The dinner expedition swiftly ended as Karen was swept over by the current. They chased her down, but got caught in the flow as the river reached a waterfall. All five friends slid down the watery slope, panicking for their lives. They landed with a bump on a ledge half-way down the waterfall. They could see the very same bay that they'd just crashed in spread out below them. Shu Ting, never one for dramatic moments, interrupted by exclaiming,
"Look at this!"
"What is it?" Salvador humoured her
She held up a pouch which had been stuck in a crevice in the rock. The fabric was oiled to waterproof it. She looked inside and her face wrinkled.
"Urggh. It's just dust!"
"Let me see." demanded Margreet. She and Quentin scrambled through the water to examine the dust, and they both felt the magic within it.
"We'll keep it." Quentin said, plucking out of Shu Ting's hand and stuffing it into his pocket.
They took their time planning the slide down the fall to the shore, and enjoyed it much more as a consequence, before wearily trudging back up the corridors to the King Crab's room. They slept for the night amongst the barrels there.
Or they thought that they would. They were woken by giant rats, who seemed to find the taste of fresh Margreet quite irresistible. Margreet, ever the discriminating sleeping partner, was not happy with the would-be bed fellows, despite their avidity (or perhaps because of it). The rats had remarkably sharp claws and teeth, and it took a number of flashes and bangs from Margreet's rapidly expanding repertoire of alchemical attempts, and a lot of psychic fear from Quentin to stop them overwhelming the party all at once. But most of all it took a lot of sword slices.
The friends tended their wounds, with magical aid from both Quentin and Margreet, and settled down to rest again.
The adventure
All of a sudden the ship jolted. The lights flickered before half of them died and the groan of strained metal shivered through the ship. Grimpak's usually steady voice rushed through a rapid announcement over the room's speakers:
"We will be crash-landing in a minute or two. Please brace for impact."
The speaker clicked off, leaving the tense words hanging. Quentin looked down at the dressing gown and sandals he typically wore around the ship and sighed. He rushed over to their empty rucksacks and scooped them up before rolling into his bunk with the valuable equipment.
The others acted similarly. Margreet used a chair to smash open the locked potions cabinet, in which Grimpak kept various remedies and concoctions that he claimed had properties that never showed in what he called 'dead space'. She grasped a handful and wrapped herself and the vials in her blankets. Salvador had been working at a separate desk with the tools Grimpak had generously provided. He swept them all into the leather satchel, grabbed the contraption he had been tinkering with and, casting an eye at the others, murmured in his soft voice
"I wonder what it is?"
He was barely heard above the ominous creaking of the ship. A second crash shook the place, smashing most of the glass vials in the potions cabinet. A few rolled to Quentin's bunk, and he scooped up what he could.
Shu Ting and Karen had been in the more bare room next door. They had blades in their hands and thick clothing on in case someone got carried away.
"Shouldn't we put the bunks away and fix the landing seats?" queried Karen, even as the two of them made their way to their own bunks. Quentin voiced the answer they all knew, shouting
"I don't think there's time."
Shu Ting chimed in at the same time
"Be my guest."
Karen paused to give her a glare and pressed the button that swung the bunk into the wall. Shu Ting had time to shout "Hey!" before she was swallowed in the padding of the wall-mounted bunk.
Quentin woke. There was a screaming in his ears, but distant. He dragged his head from the sand with a groan and looked around. The screaming still echoed... it sounded remarkably like Shu Ting. He spun his head around quickly to look for her and see if she were in trouble, but at the same time as the dizziness punished him for the abrupt movement he realised that she sounded more annoyed than hurt. He pulled himself up next to the metal of his bunk and the pile of rucksacks there and looked around. Their room had survived best of all the ship, which was scattered in smoking remnants on the beach and in the little inlet that lapped on the beach's sand.
Closest to him was Margreet, whose area of the room seemed hardly disturbed. He put a hand on her and she fluttered her eyes open and complained that he was interrupting her dream.
"You really need to get accustomed to being awake after eating." was his startled reply, a line with which they were both familiar.
"Come on, let's find Shu Ting"
He bent down to pick up a bar of metal and behind him Margreet did the same. They advanced to the pile of metal which muffled Shu Ting's periodic imprecations and grunts and started to lever a great sheet off the top. As the hunk of metal screeched over and onto the soft sand, two little legs appeared, sticking out of the middle of the pile. The rest of Shu Ting followed as she righted herself from the mess of mattress that she had been wedged into. She hauled out the two swords she'd been using before a cautious Karen started to emerge as well, right way up this time.
Salvador had also appeared and stepped forward to help them down. Shu Ting muttered not very quietly about stupid bunks as Margreet chuckled about the two cute legs they had seen. Her hair had jumped into place as if the crash had never occurred; she was the only one who didn't look like she'd just climbed out of a twisted heap of metal, but she was the only one who sounded like it. She gave Margreet a slap for chuckling at her.
"How would you like it?" she asked
"Being complimented on my cute legs?" Margreet pondered, "I'd like that."
Shu Ting snorted.
"Where did you spring from?" Quentin asked Salva.
"I was just over there," Salva replied, pointing towards the shore. "I had to put my tools away."
"Quite right!" exclaimed Quentin, "Tools should not be displayed to ladies." He replied without thinking, more to fill the time than for any real purpose.
"Oh God! Don't you ever stop?" Karen interjected.
Margreet piped up
"If your tools ever come out, I can find a place for them."
"Oh God..." Karen groaned.
"Urggh" Shu Ting agreed.
"We will be crash-landing in a minute or two. Please brace for impact."
The speaker clicked off, leaving the tense words hanging. Quentin looked down at the dressing gown and sandals he typically wore around the ship and sighed. He rushed over to their empty rucksacks and scooped them up before rolling into his bunk with the valuable equipment.
The others acted similarly. Margreet used a chair to smash open the locked potions cabinet, in which Grimpak kept various remedies and concoctions that he claimed had properties that never showed in what he called 'dead space'. She grasped a handful and wrapped herself and the vials in her blankets. Salvador had been working at a separate desk with the tools Grimpak had generously provided. He swept them all into the leather satchel, grabbed the contraption he had been tinkering with and, casting an eye at the others, murmured in his soft voice
"I wonder what it is?"
He was barely heard above the ominous creaking of the ship. A second crash shook the place, smashing most of the glass vials in the potions cabinet. A few rolled to Quentin's bunk, and he scooped up what he could.
Shu Ting and Karen had been in the more bare room next door. They had blades in their hands and thick clothing on in case someone got carried away.
"Shouldn't we put the bunks away and fix the landing seats?" queried Karen, even as the two of them made their way to their own bunks. Quentin voiced the answer they all knew, shouting
"I don't think there's time."
Shu Ting chimed in at the same time
"Be my guest."
Karen paused to give her a glare and pressed the button that swung the bunk into the wall. Shu Ting had time to shout "Hey!" before she was swallowed in the padding of the wall-mounted bunk.
Quentin woke. There was a screaming in his ears, but distant. He dragged his head from the sand with a groan and looked around. The screaming still echoed... it sounded remarkably like Shu Ting. He spun his head around quickly to look for her and see if she were in trouble, but at the same time as the dizziness punished him for the abrupt movement he realised that she sounded more annoyed than hurt. He pulled himself up next to the metal of his bunk and the pile of rucksacks there and looked around. Their room had survived best of all the ship, which was scattered in smoking remnants on the beach and in the little inlet that lapped on the beach's sand.
Closest to him was Margreet, whose area of the room seemed hardly disturbed. He put a hand on her and she fluttered her eyes open and complained that he was interrupting her dream.
"You really need to get accustomed to being awake after eating." was his startled reply, a line with which they were both familiar.
"Come on, let's find Shu Ting"
He bent down to pick up a bar of metal and behind him Margreet did the same. They advanced to the pile of metal which muffled Shu Ting's periodic imprecations and grunts and started to lever a great sheet off the top. As the hunk of metal screeched over and onto the soft sand, two little legs appeared, sticking out of the middle of the pile. The rest of Shu Ting followed as she righted herself from the mess of mattress that she had been wedged into. She hauled out the two swords she'd been using before a cautious Karen started to emerge as well, right way up this time.
Salvador had also appeared and stepped forward to help them down. Shu Ting muttered not very quietly about stupid bunks as Margreet chuckled about the two cute legs they had seen. Her hair had jumped into place as if the crash had never occurred; she was the only one who didn't look like she'd just climbed out of a twisted heap of metal, but she was the only one who sounded like it. She gave Margreet a slap for chuckling at her.
"How would you like it?" she asked
"Being complimented on my cute legs?" Margreet pondered, "I'd like that."
Shu Ting snorted.
"Where did you spring from?" Quentin asked Salva.
"I was just over there," Salva replied, pointing towards the shore. "I had to put my tools away."
"Quite right!" exclaimed Quentin, "Tools should not be displayed to ladies." He replied without thinking, more to fill the time than for any real purpose.
"Oh God! Don't you ever stop?" Karen interjected.
Margreet piped up
"If your tools ever come out, I can find a place for them."
"Oh God..." Karen groaned.
"Urggh" Shu Ting agreed.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Pornography and sexism
This is adapted from an e-mail I sent in reply to an argument about to which magazines we would like to subscribe.
I do believe that sexism is defined as discrimination or prejudice, typically
against women. I understand that some, or even most, pornography is made by
abusing the 'stars', both men and women (i.e poor industrial relations, low pay,
limited working rights and so on), but I'd hardly call that sexism. It's just
unpleasant.
I also guess that famous magazines pay really quite well for their pictures, and
I can't understand why a woman earning a living is sexism. I understand that
many women find the concept of pornography distasteful, and would never do it
themselves, but personal taste and sense of disgust is very different from
discrimination.
Pornography shows, overwhelmingly, women because that is what the market seems
to want. I assume that if pictures of naked men were popular they'd be sold too.
If a desire for pictures is so different between the sexes it's not
discrimination. No-one seems to get upset when a man calls himself heterosexual
because he's discriminating against other men. Market forces like this are not
usually called discriminatory.
If you find it objectionable that many men can take pleasure in seeing pretty
women, you're fighting a losing battle, since it is intrinsic to humanity that
we appreciate beauty, and that most men find women sexually appealing. I'm not
entirely sure why being sexually appealing is being discriminated against. Even
if it is, I don't believe that there's any evidence that pornography causes
this, rather than being a result of it.
If, on the other hand, you accept that men might have such instincts, but
believe that they should be controlled, and that pornography is clearly these
instincts being uncontrolled, I have to ask why you find it so necessary to
control other people's behaviours, and why you want to control men's instincts.
Why discriminate against men? Men who examine pornography typically do it in
private and
harm no-one.
If the argument is solely that it might lead them to treat women differently
elsewhere, then I think you'll find yourselves arguing for us to ban, amongst
many, Christianity and Islam, since many preachers of these religions have a
tendency to denounce homosexuals and, to a lesser extent, women, which might
lead the faithful to treat them differently elsewhere in life. Of course, what
we actually find is that even people who explicitly believe that such people are
inferior are able to treat them with respect and dignity in person. How much
more able is a man to do so when rather than being brainwashed by extreme
beliefs he is simply enjoying one thing about women? Being sexually appealing
and a rational, thinking being are not mutually exclusive, unlike being sinful
and inferior and worthy of respect.
I can find nowhere in pornography (assuming it is, as I said, legally produced)
the denial of human rights, respect or dignity. The women in such pornography
would have freely consented to make it, as is their right. If you think that
it's so undignified that we shouldn't allow people to consent to do it, why do
we allow people to work in service jobs at all? I'd call it undignified to model
underwear, although that's not pornography. I'd not be respected working in
MacDonald's or as a waiter in many restaurants.
We don't ban undignified jobs because it's a person's right to decide how much
it is worth to do something unpleasant. Many marxists argue that it is
undignified to work for money at all, and that's their decision, but most of us
have no intention of letting their beliefs rule our lives.
It's also a far cry from discrimination or prejudice and hence sexism.
2.
If you find sexual interactions degrading, that's your own belief, and a
commonly held one. But there's no possible way to justify calling it a universal
truth, and it is up to you to interact with people who agree with you (or not)
as you please. It is not right to impose your beliefs on all others by calling
something offensive to you and therefore immoral even for complete strangers to
make, purchase or enjoy.
In summary, although I can agree that most pornography produced nowadays is not
produced in the most pleasant environment, I don't think that there's any
discrimination instrinsic to pornography, and I'd rather you pointed out the
moral failings of the companies and their production methods than assume that
pornography is evil.
I can also agree that I'd find pornography ... distasteful, but
we can sort that out by voting in the poll, rather than trying to avoid
democratic decisions by calling it offensive. I find it far more offensive that
anyone would seek to control what ought to be a democratic decision by invoking
offence. Pornography would have to be truly discriminatory (and therefore
illegal) before I'd agree that we shouldn't vote on it as we'd vote on anything
else. What if I decided that the Economist, because of its right-wing views, is
offensive? What about the Grauniad, because of its poor English and left-wing
views? How dare you include such scandalous items in the poll? I think we need
another group e-mail apologising for this offensive content too.
If it's legal, then there is the perfect right and
absolute duty to put suggested subscriptions on the poll, whether they're
offensive to someone or not.
[...]'s original complaint suggests that finding the images would make [it] an unwelcoming place to many women, and I agree. I think that not doing the duty to consider all proposals and treat them the same would be even more wrong.
I hope that next time someone finds a thing offensive and considers complaining, my counter-complaint about whether offence is sufficient reason for doing anything about it can be assumed.
If I've missed a vital point in the argument, I'd like to hear it, because I really do feel as though I've missed something important. I truly cannot understand how you link these things together so easily, and I've laid out my guess at the arguments involved to save you time and effort if they are yours.
I do believe that sexism is defined as discrimination or prejudice, typically
against women. I understand that some, or even most, pornography is made by
abusing the 'stars', both men and women (i.e poor industrial relations, low pay,
limited working rights and so on), but I'd hardly call that sexism. It's just
unpleasant.
I also guess that famous magazines pay really quite well for their pictures, and
I can't understand why a woman earning a living is sexism. I understand that
many women find the concept of pornography distasteful, and would never do it
themselves, but personal taste and sense of disgust is very different from
discrimination.
Pornography shows, overwhelmingly, women because that is what the market seems
to want. I assume that if pictures of naked men were popular they'd be sold too.
If a desire for pictures is so different between the sexes it's not
discrimination. No-one seems to get upset when a man calls himself heterosexual
because he's discriminating against other men. Market forces like this are not
usually called discriminatory.
If you find it objectionable that many men can take pleasure in seeing pretty
women, you're fighting a losing battle, since it is intrinsic to humanity that
we appreciate beauty, and that most men find women sexually appealing. I'm not
entirely sure why being sexually appealing is being discriminated against. Even
if it is, I don't believe that there's any evidence that pornography causes
this, rather than being a result of it.
If, on the other hand, you accept that men might have such instincts, but
believe that they should be controlled, and that pornography is clearly these
instincts being uncontrolled, I have to ask why you find it so necessary to
control other people's behaviours, and why you want to control men's instincts.
Why discriminate against men? Men who examine pornography typically do it in
private and
harm no-one.
If the argument is solely that it might lead them to treat women differently
elsewhere, then I think you'll find yourselves arguing for us to ban, amongst
many, Christianity and Islam, since many preachers of these religions have a
tendency to denounce homosexuals and, to a lesser extent, women, which might
lead the faithful to treat them differently elsewhere in life. Of course, what
we actually find is that even people who explicitly believe that such people are
inferior are able to treat them with respect and dignity in person. How much
more able is a man to do so when rather than being brainwashed by extreme
beliefs he is simply enjoying one thing about women? Being sexually appealing
and a rational, thinking being are not mutually exclusive, unlike being sinful
and inferior and worthy of respect.
I can find nowhere in pornography (assuming it is, as I said, legally produced)
the denial of human rights, respect or dignity. The women in such pornography
would have freely consented to make it, as is their right. If you think that
it's so undignified that we shouldn't allow people to consent to do it, why do
we allow people to work in service jobs at all? I'd call it undignified to model
underwear, although that's not pornography. I'd not be respected working in
MacDonald's or as a waiter in many restaurants.
We don't ban undignified jobs because it's a person's right to decide how much
it is worth to do something unpleasant. Many marxists argue that it is
undignified to work for money at all, and that's their decision, but most of us
have no intention of letting their beliefs rule our lives.
It's also a far cry from discrimination or prejudice and hence sexism.
2.
If you find sexual interactions degrading, that's your own belief, and a
commonly held one. But there's no possible way to justify calling it a universal
truth, and it is up to you to interact with people who agree with you (or not)
as you please. It is not right to impose your beliefs on all others by calling
something offensive to you and therefore immoral even for complete strangers to
make, purchase or enjoy.
In summary, although I can agree that most pornography produced nowadays is not
produced in the most pleasant environment, I don't think that there's any
discrimination instrinsic to pornography, and I'd rather you pointed out the
moral failings of the companies and their production methods than assume that
pornography is evil.
I can also agree that I'd find pornography ... distasteful, but
we can sort that out by voting in the poll, rather than trying to avoid
democratic decisions by calling it offensive. I find it far more offensive that
anyone would seek to control what ought to be a democratic decision by invoking
offence. Pornography would have to be truly discriminatory (and therefore
illegal) before I'd agree that we shouldn't vote on it as we'd vote on anything
else. What if I decided that the Economist, because of its right-wing views, is
offensive? What about the Grauniad, because of its poor English and left-wing
views? How dare you include such scandalous items in the poll? I think we need
another group e-mail apologising for this offensive content too.
If it's legal, then there is the perfect right and
absolute duty to put suggested subscriptions on the poll, whether they're
offensive to someone or not.
[...]'s original complaint suggests that finding the images would make [it] an unwelcoming place to many women, and I agree. I think that not doing the duty to consider all proposals and treat them the same would be even more wrong.
I hope that next time someone finds a thing offensive and considers complaining, my counter-complaint about whether offence is sufficient reason for doing anything about it can be assumed.
If I've missed a vital point in the argument, I'd like to hear it, because I really do feel as though I've missed something important. I truly cannot understand how you link these things together so easily, and I've laid out my guess at the arguments involved to save you time and effort if they are yours.
Thursday, 15 October 2009
The Selfless Gene
I went to a talk today by Charles Foster, the author of The Selfsih Gene (and many other works too). It was hosted by Oxford Graduate Christian Union, and I had been invited by a friend who is a recent convert to Christianity from depression and hopes, I think, to brighten my cynical outlook in the same way.
He started, edifyingly, by explaining why it is necessary to mention young earth creationism as an important force in this country (as well as in the world, given its porevalence in the U.S.A.). Apparently 1/3 of university students believe in some version of creationism in this country, an astonishing proportion, worrying and worth a discussion all of its own.
He started by explaining that because we cannot quantify the power or effect of natural selection we cannot exclude other forces at work, a point with which Darwin would have agreed, considering natural selection far less important than we do now. This is the first step along a series of Socratic steps in which a play on words or aslightly irrelevant point is used to support the next step. In this case I would contend that until we have proof of other forces, we should assume that they do not exist, it being recognised as foolish to regard as more probable the explanation with unnecessary falsifiable parts ('Occam's Razor').
The next interesting fact was the statement that your life is worth, genetically, 2 brothers and 8 cousins, a truism that I had not yet encountered, and which he used to define the selfish gene explanation of apparent altruism.
He then pointed out that we require professional mathemeticians to calculate elaborate game-theory explanations of some examples of altruism, and that he doubts that natural selection really understands things in that much detail. This is a point that will we will retrun to: natural selection does not need to understand. The model is there already, in nature itself, and selection operates on the results, whether understood or not. The anthropomorphising of selection is not a good argument.
He dismissed memes without much attempt at a full argument, his best suggestion seeming to be that they are considered special to mankind and yet supposedly offer so much power that they should overrule any genetic effect. He thought that other animals should display something biological, and the idea that only man has them as an explanation of why they have not swamped evolution of biology is insufficient.
I disagree with both points. Memes can be found in other animals, such as ravens, which learnt to drop food on pedestrian crossings to get it cracked open by cars but be able to eat it in safety when the crossing was in use.
The reason that memes do not swamp genetics with Lamarckian inheritance is that they spread not only by inheritance but by acquisition. This ensures that they can spread rapidly through a population, with only geographical boundaries, or perhaps the ability of others to learn, preventing their spread. Thus memes operate mostly independently of genetic fitness and the supposedly spooky monstrosity of Lamarckian inheritance is avoided.
Much of the talk was focussed on the apparent altruism in nature not necessarily having a natural explanation, and on his introduction of a separate category of devilry, in the form of many parasites (for example) into nature. This categorisation of nature into altruism, which can be, but isn't necessarily, explained by natural selection, and is compatible with God, and another area which is entirely compatible and explained by natural selection, but appears incompatible with God, speaks for itself. God seems the less likely option. However, he explains that the world itself, perhaps via the devil (a point he did accept implying without objecting when I mentioned it) is disobedient to God's instruction, and therefore parts of it are predatory and not altruistic. Therefore, it seems, because parts of nature are not compatible with a Christian God, God exists!
The convoluted reasoning that allows two categories that between them contain everything (that compatible with God and that not, and therefore compatible with the devil) is no argument at all. The explanation of life that appears to disprove God as work of the devil, and not part of God's plan ( a point he emphasised when I suggested that it could be said to be part of God's plan, on the basis of another part of the talk in which he mentioned that we should celebrate the world's and Adam's disobedience because it gives us the possibility of the heavenly city found in Revelation) rather contradicts his assertion that God can be taken to be omnipotent and omniscient. If God really does want a vegetarian, altruistic world, and this devilry is not part of his overall plan, then he certainly isn't omiscient.
I contend, as Milton shows (by accident) in Paradise Lost that the devil is almost a hero. If his actions are part of God's plan, then as a major agent of God's plan he deserves as much respect as one of the (other) archangels. If he gave us free will and freedom of thought against God's will, then just as the Greek's revered Prometheus, we should respect him for the nobility of the sentiment and sacrifice that made him rule in hell rather than serve in heaven, and gave us the choice to make.
His acceptance of the 'God moves in mysterious ways' as a serious philosophical argument was also galling. Again I will return to Occam's razor to cut out the wanton acceptance of mystery when none is necessary. If we have scientific explanations that do not explain everything, we have learned not to assume supernatural agency. Little demons do not run our computers nor make lightning nor volcanic eruptions. If something has not been explained by science we rationally trust that there is a scientific explanation for two reasons: the empirical reason of science having explained satisfactorily so much already, as compared to the invocation of 'mystery' or the supernatural, which has been falsified in every case; and the principled reason of not invoking extra supernatural qualities to the mystery which are not justified when the thing is a mystery.
I shall expand apon this point. If there is a lak of understanding of what might be termed a phenomenon, we can assume that it is just a mystery, in that we do not understand it, which is in essence a tautology. Or we can assume that it is a supernatural mystery, that it is in some degree beyond our understanding and that it involves extra things in the universe (the supernatural) than we previously supposed existed. I think that Occam's razor does not allow us to make these unjustified assumptions: we should accept that the pnomenon is currently a mystery, but that it is just an example of natural laws that we have yet to fully understand or perhaps even encounter. To assume something other than natural laws is to make a giant assumption which is a far greater leap of faith than is necessary,a dn Occam's razor can be construed to insist on the samllest leaps necessary, if any at all.
FInally, I rather objected to his concentration on suffering (and by implication empathy) as the sole (or perhaps most important) factor in ethics. Suffering defined what he considered bad, and was the way in which he approached the problems of a beneficient God creating a world with badness in it.
I object to the modern preoccupation with suffering as the basis of defining evil. If we take virtue as good, and suffering as neutral, then God's lack of beneficence can be explained solely in terms of us having free will. The natural world, since it is incapable of moral decisions, and therefore of having virtue, is morally neutral. Suffering is not a moral concern except in so far as it is a concern of virtues which are held by free agents. This Stoic idea is one that I would have thought would be a lifeline to Christians wrestling with the problems caused by believing in an amnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent and beneficent God. However, my suggestion was roundly refused, with the emotional and irrational point that suffering is bad.
I did point out that the refusal to consider the notion, deeply ingrained in those with extremes of empathy, that suffering might not be the cenral feature of morality, automatically caused refusal of virtue as the defining feature of Good. You can't consider that virtue might replace lack of suffering as the definition of good if you continue to consider suffering as bad!
In summary, there are a number of unnecessary introductions of new concepts to explain things that are already explained, there was a fair amount of re-interpreting the Bible when the passages in question can be more readily explained by the social concerns of the writers (or, as he described them, editors) and there was a strange focus on a belief in philosophy that is not necessarily true but makes his position untenable. Given his dedication to taking what could explain things but doesn't necessarily, I'd have thought that Stoic beliefs would be welcome, not derided.
Just as an aside, one social concern that even mentioned that the editors had was his point that most scholars nowadays believe that Genesis was a polemic against polytheism. This rather undermines his convoluted interpretation that gives it some deep revelatory meaning, again because of Occam's razor. I willa ccept that the English translation changes the meaning deeply, but when the story is already explained as a means to impress the locals with the monotheistic God, who made all that they worship, insightful interpretations, although of academic interest, are not really important.
He started, edifyingly, by explaining why it is necessary to mention young earth creationism as an important force in this country (as well as in the world, given its porevalence in the U.S.A.). Apparently 1/3 of university students believe in some version of creationism in this country, an astonishing proportion, worrying and worth a discussion all of its own.
He started by explaining that because we cannot quantify the power or effect of natural selection we cannot exclude other forces at work, a point with which Darwin would have agreed, considering natural selection far less important than we do now. This is the first step along a series of Socratic steps in which a play on words or aslightly irrelevant point is used to support the next step. In this case I would contend that until we have proof of other forces, we should assume that they do not exist, it being recognised as foolish to regard as more probable the explanation with unnecessary falsifiable parts ('Occam's Razor').
The next interesting fact was the statement that your life is worth, genetically, 2 brothers and 8 cousins, a truism that I had not yet encountered, and which he used to define the selfish gene explanation of apparent altruism.
He then pointed out that we require professional mathemeticians to calculate elaborate game-theory explanations of some examples of altruism, and that he doubts that natural selection really understands things in that much detail. This is a point that will we will retrun to: natural selection does not need to understand. The model is there already, in nature itself, and selection operates on the results, whether understood or not. The anthropomorphising of selection is not a good argument.
He dismissed memes without much attempt at a full argument, his best suggestion seeming to be that they are considered special to mankind and yet supposedly offer so much power that they should overrule any genetic effect. He thought that other animals should display something biological, and the idea that only man has them as an explanation of why they have not swamped evolution of biology is insufficient.
I disagree with both points. Memes can be found in other animals, such as ravens, which learnt to drop food on pedestrian crossings to get it cracked open by cars but be able to eat it in safety when the crossing was in use.
The reason that memes do not swamp genetics with Lamarckian inheritance is that they spread not only by inheritance but by acquisition. This ensures that they can spread rapidly through a population, with only geographical boundaries, or perhaps the ability of others to learn, preventing their spread. Thus memes operate mostly independently of genetic fitness and the supposedly spooky monstrosity of Lamarckian inheritance is avoided.
Much of the talk was focussed on the apparent altruism in nature not necessarily having a natural explanation, and on his introduction of a separate category of devilry, in the form of many parasites (for example) into nature. This categorisation of nature into altruism, which can be, but isn't necessarily, explained by natural selection, and is compatible with God, and another area which is entirely compatible and explained by natural selection, but appears incompatible with God, speaks for itself. God seems the less likely option. However, he explains that the world itself, perhaps via the devil (a point he did accept implying without objecting when I mentioned it) is disobedient to God's instruction, and therefore parts of it are predatory and not altruistic. Therefore, it seems, because parts of nature are not compatible with a Christian God, God exists!
The convoluted reasoning that allows two categories that between them contain everything (that compatible with God and that not, and therefore compatible with the devil) is no argument at all. The explanation of life that appears to disprove God as work of the devil, and not part of God's plan ( a point he emphasised when I suggested that it could be said to be part of God's plan, on the basis of another part of the talk in which he mentioned that we should celebrate the world's and Adam's disobedience because it gives us the possibility of the heavenly city found in Revelation) rather contradicts his assertion that God can be taken to be omnipotent and omniscient. If God really does want a vegetarian, altruistic world, and this devilry is not part of his overall plan, then he certainly isn't omiscient.
I contend, as Milton shows (by accident) in Paradise Lost that the devil is almost a hero. If his actions are part of God's plan, then as a major agent of God's plan he deserves as much respect as one of the (other) archangels. If he gave us free will and freedom of thought against God's will, then just as the Greek's revered Prometheus, we should respect him for the nobility of the sentiment and sacrifice that made him rule in hell rather than serve in heaven, and gave us the choice to make.
His acceptance of the 'God moves in mysterious ways' as a serious philosophical argument was also galling. Again I will return to Occam's razor to cut out the wanton acceptance of mystery when none is necessary. If we have scientific explanations that do not explain everything, we have learned not to assume supernatural agency. Little demons do not run our computers nor make lightning nor volcanic eruptions. If something has not been explained by science we rationally trust that there is a scientific explanation for two reasons: the empirical reason of science having explained satisfactorily so much already, as compared to the invocation of 'mystery' or the supernatural, which has been falsified in every case; and the principled reason of not invoking extra supernatural qualities to the mystery which are not justified when the thing is a mystery.
I shall expand apon this point. If there is a lak of understanding of what might be termed a phenomenon, we can assume that it is just a mystery, in that we do not understand it, which is in essence a tautology. Or we can assume that it is a supernatural mystery, that it is in some degree beyond our understanding and that it involves extra things in the universe (the supernatural) than we previously supposed existed. I think that Occam's razor does not allow us to make these unjustified assumptions: we should accept that the pnomenon is currently a mystery, but that it is just an example of natural laws that we have yet to fully understand or perhaps even encounter. To assume something other than natural laws is to make a giant assumption which is a far greater leap of faith than is necessary,a dn Occam's razor can be construed to insist on the samllest leaps necessary, if any at all.
FInally, I rather objected to his concentration on suffering (and by implication empathy) as the sole (or perhaps most important) factor in ethics. Suffering defined what he considered bad, and was the way in which he approached the problems of a beneficient God creating a world with badness in it.
I object to the modern preoccupation with suffering as the basis of defining evil. If we take virtue as good, and suffering as neutral, then God's lack of beneficence can be explained solely in terms of us having free will. The natural world, since it is incapable of moral decisions, and therefore of having virtue, is morally neutral. Suffering is not a moral concern except in so far as it is a concern of virtues which are held by free agents. This Stoic idea is one that I would have thought would be a lifeline to Christians wrestling with the problems caused by believing in an amnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent and beneficent God. However, my suggestion was roundly refused, with the emotional and irrational point that suffering is bad.
I did point out that the refusal to consider the notion, deeply ingrained in those with extremes of empathy, that suffering might not be the cenral feature of morality, automatically caused refusal of virtue as the defining feature of Good. You can't consider that virtue might replace lack of suffering as the definition of good if you continue to consider suffering as bad!
In summary, there are a number of unnecessary introductions of new concepts to explain things that are already explained, there was a fair amount of re-interpreting the Bible when the passages in question can be more readily explained by the social concerns of the writers (or, as he described them, editors) and there was a strange focus on a belief in philosophy that is not necessarily true but makes his position untenable. Given his dedication to taking what could explain things but doesn't necessarily, I'd have thought that Stoic beliefs would be welcome, not derided.
Just as an aside, one social concern that even mentioned that the editors had was his point that most scholars nowadays believe that Genesis was a polemic against polytheism. This rather undermines his convoluted interpretation that gives it some deep revelatory meaning, again because of Occam's razor. I willa ccept that the English translation changes the meaning deeply, but when the story is already explained as a means to impress the locals with the monotheistic God, who made all that they worship, insightful interpretations, although of academic interest, are not really important.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
I heard an animal ethnographer say that animals show more moral behaviour, and more moral behaviour, the more social the animals were. He was talking about species-wide characteristics, rating foxes, coyotes and wolves on a scale of sociability, but I wonder about individual characteristics.
Does social contact effect a moral sense? Does it affect a moral sense? It would be very interesting if there were a causal relationship in this direction, and not only in the stereotypical way of people who are withdrawn from society having pre-existing problems with societal morality.
Does social contact effect a moral sense? Does it affect a moral sense? It would be very interesting if there were a causal relationship in this direction, and not only in the stereotypical way of people who are withdrawn from society having pre-existing problems with societal morality.
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
A free market in political systems
There was a wonderful talk at the TED conference here in Oxford about charter cities:
http://www.ted.com/talks/paul_romer.html
I enjoyed it because I've been disillusioned with the possibility of actually changing (significantly) any existing country for the better, despite the constant stream of problems I diagnose. Great masses of people with a certain mindset and companies and individuals with interests in the status quo cannot change their way of life quickly or easily.
On the other hand, founding a few charter cities (or charter countries, as I've fondly imagined) gives us the opportunity not only to allow citizens of poorly developed countries economic opportunities, but could also give people everywhere political and philosophical choice.
Paul Romer was interested in economic improvement without upsetting the leaders or interests that already exist, but he's not mentioned the final idea that allows us to set up a virtuous circle. The idea of charter cities can be used to test ideas for changing rules. We can try different constitutions, different ways of setting up charter cities so that we improve not only economic and political choice, but also all future charter cities!
One of the major problems of the world is the assumption that labour can move freely, as capital does. However, capital moves as easily as the click of a button (or few), coming from one side of the world to invest in another. For free market assumptions to hold true (which they don't in a myriad of other ways too) labour must be free to switch countries. However, labour is trapped by language, capital barriers (people need investment in order to move) and 'externalities' such as political, philosophical and health concerns (ranging from potential natural disasters to local diseases).
My problems with free market fundamentalists can wait for a moment, because here I'm in support of a roughly free market idea: the idea that people should be able to choose the political entity which suits them best.
If we had a free market in countries, with different political systems representing the competing products, then even people with odd and extreme ideas (as mine seem, sadly, to be) might be able to find an enclave somewhere where things would be run as we would like best.
Charter cities offer an excellent method for achieving such political variation. Do we like or dislike the death penalty? Do we want to outlaw gayness? Do we want Sharia law?
If moving cities were as simple as free market fundamentalists think it ought to be for economic purposes, this freedom could be hijacked for political, as well as economic, improvement of people's lives.
http://www.ted.com/talks/paul_romer.html
I enjoyed it because I've been disillusioned with the possibility of actually changing (significantly) any existing country for the better, despite the constant stream of problems I diagnose. Great masses of people with a certain mindset and companies and individuals with interests in the status quo cannot change their way of life quickly or easily.
On the other hand, founding a few charter cities (or charter countries, as I've fondly imagined) gives us the opportunity not only to allow citizens of poorly developed countries economic opportunities, but could also give people everywhere political and philosophical choice.
Paul Romer was interested in economic improvement without upsetting the leaders or interests that already exist, but he's not mentioned the final idea that allows us to set up a virtuous circle. The idea of charter cities can be used to test ideas for changing rules. We can try different constitutions, different ways of setting up charter cities so that we improve not only economic and political choice, but also all future charter cities!
One of the major problems of the world is the assumption that labour can move freely, as capital does. However, capital moves as easily as the click of a button (or few), coming from one side of the world to invest in another. For free market assumptions to hold true (which they don't in a myriad of other ways too) labour must be free to switch countries. However, labour is trapped by language, capital barriers (people need investment in order to move) and 'externalities' such as political, philosophical and health concerns (ranging from potential natural disasters to local diseases).
My problems with free market fundamentalists can wait for a moment, because here I'm in support of a roughly free market idea: the idea that people should be able to choose the political entity which suits them best.
If we had a free market in countries, with different political systems representing the competing products, then even people with odd and extreme ideas (as mine seem, sadly, to be) might be able to find an enclave somewhere where things would be run as we would like best.
Charter cities offer an excellent method for achieving such political variation. Do we like or dislike the death penalty? Do we want to outlaw gayness? Do we want Sharia law?
If moving cities were as simple as free market fundamentalists think it ought to be for economic purposes, this freedom could be hijacked for political, as well as economic, improvement of people's lives.
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