Contrast a book with a movie, for instance. The information a book contains is certainly more abstract than the information a movie rams into my head. I don’t know how Naoko in Norwegian Wood looked like but Martha always conjures up the image of Helena Bontham Carter in a hat, smoking a freshly lit cigarette. Naoko‘s image is malleable and ethereal but Martha will always be a dark girl with curly hair (this is not to criticize Fight Club, I loved the movie).

I think this makes books more relatable, and a well written text hits me at a very base level. Since the written word is so flexible and abstract, my mind can lift it up to a concrete representation that is very close to my sense of self. A book can drive me to insanity, a movie cannot.

I think the same applies to music too — I’ve always found solos by Pink Floyd their most interesting work. When a rapper talks about how he “hit it up with a ho” (I’m not good with american street slang so I just made that up), there is only so much information my mind can add, there is only so much I can misinterpret. When I hear the crazy slide-guitar in Shine on you crazy diamond, VI-IX, my mind is forced to conjure up something using the only tools it has at its disposal, my imagination and my experience. And it always comes up with something sinister.

What Glaucon says next seemed a lot like Rawls’ theory of a social contract (I have not read Rawls’ work in detail, and might be standing on mount stupid). The case for justice, he says, is that the pain of suffering injustice outweighs the pleasure of committing it. Hence, we “find it expedient to make a compact of mutual abstinence from injustice” and that “there is certainly no one else who is willingly just; but it is from cowardice, or age, or some other infirmity, that men condemn injustice [...] this is proved by the fact that the first of these people who comes to power is the first to commit injustice”

Glaucon then goes on to compare the ideal just man and the ideal unjust man. In fact, he makes the distinction between being just and the appearance of being just — if Socrates defends a just man who is known for his justice, he is not defending justice but merely its appearance. The ideal just man has the worst reputation for injustice, he says, without being guilty of a single unjust act; and the ideal unjust man is the opposite. It is easy to see how such an ideal unjust man will trump the ideal just man in every situation; he sums it up by saying “to be just without also thought just is no advantage to me, but only entails manifest trouble and loss, whereas if I am unjust and get myself a name for justice an unspeakably happy life is promised me”.

One deterrent to injustice is the promise of afterlife — people who have lived just and honest lives spend eternity carousing with the gods while the ungodly and unjust are plunged into Hades, condemned to carry water in a sieve. However, there is no shortage of soothsayers and quacks who claim to have powers to amend crimes committed in this world — unjust people (who are usually rich enough to afford such luxuries) tend to hire such people to insure their afterlife. Such practices are further encouraged by poets like Homer, Glaucon says, by spreading stories how not just individuals but whole cities can petition a god’s forgiveness by offering the right sacrifice.

It does not seem like (not to me, at least) that Socrates actually makes a proper attempt to address the concern (that the unjust man is always better off than the just man), but diverges to another direction entirely. He starts the discussion by talking about justice in a city; hoping to get some helpful insight into the nature of justice. He first talks about specialization. Once the basic needs of the citizens are met, need will be felt to “cut ourselves a slice of our neighbour’s territory” for greater luxury and comfort. This adds another specialization that a healthy city needs — warriors, or guardians. These guardians needs to be gentle to their friends and dangerous to their enemies. This way, I think, Socrates links the qualities of the warriors to that of a just man, as discussed in book one.

I find the next argument (primarily by Socrates) very absurd. Firstly, they somehow convince themselves that a high-spirited gentle man is a contradiction. Socrates resolves this contradiction by comparing such a man with a dog; and noting that a dog equates acquaintance with friendship and “How, I ask, can the creature be other than fond of learning when it makes knowledge and ignorance the criteria of the familiar and the strange?”. This is clearly well-fermented manure — in fact, that a dog refuses to use any other (more reliable) criterion to judge animosity and friendship shows that it is not fond of learning and self-correction. Even if you disregard the absurdity of this argument, there is no way such a predicate can be literally translated over to a human. The comparison of human and animal behaviour in most contexts is dubious at best and in my opinion, breaks down completely when you try to draw such sweeping conclusions.

Anyway, once they’ve concluded that the nature of the guardians are supposed to be “philosophical, high-spirited, swift-footed and strong”, the focus goes to their education. Socrates has something against the poet-educated culture (he definitely has reason to :)) and suggests a censor on the kind of folklore a future guardian is exposed to in his childhood. Socrates is concerned that exposure to folklore that depict gods and other respectable engage in immoral, unjust behaviour, sets a bad example for children to aspire to. He gives various examples I won’t repeat.

Book two ends with Socrates arguing that since

• gods are perfect beings
• gods can only change their form only by exerting their own will
• the human form is imperfect

they never impose themselves on us by sending signs, apparitions or by appearing in our dreams. Doing so would involve debasing themselves, which no god would ever do. This is a clear case against poets who often use gods as characters in their storytelling. He says when “a poet uses such language concerning the gods, we shall be angry with him and refuse him a chorus, neither shall we allow our teachers to use his writing for the instruction of the young”. The rift between the philosophers and the poets is clearly visible at this point.

The first book begins by Socrates talking about old age with Cephalus and whether wealth has any role in keeping one happy in old age. Cephalus says that wealth helps one remain just. Since old people tend to worry more about afterlife (because death is now imminent) and the repercussions of being immoral play out in afterlife, wealth in general contributes to happiness in old age. This steers the conversation towards discussing what is meant by being just.

Socrates says it can’t merely be returning to people what they owe you — you would not return a knife a friend lent you when your friend is mad with rage (and likely to do something rash). Polemarchus takes up this argument and says (quoting Simonides) that debt of friend to friend is to do good to one another and not harm. Then Socrates goes on to conclude that justice is useless when a thing is in use, but useful when it is out of use. I personally could not follow this argument — Socrates says, for instance, “well, in what partnership is the just man superior to the harp player?”. The point being missed, I think, is that justness and the ability to play a harp are not exclusive properties. You can be a just harp player (in which case you’ll wrong your enemies and help your friends) or an unjust one; and your justness has nothing to do with your harp playing, like the wetness of an apple has nothing to do with its redness.

Moreover, Socrates says, a person is likely to make a mistake or two in choosing his friends. He might end up regarding a good, just person an enemy and a thieving, malicious person as a friend. And now if he follows the doctrine of hurting his enemies and helping his friends, he’ll end up doing something that is clearly wicked.

Hearing this, Polemarchus makes a change to his definition of justice, changing it to mean hurting enemies who are bad and helping friends who are good. Again Socrates goes into an argument which my spoonful of cognition can’t decipher. He concludes by saying that justice, by its virtue of justness can not make other people unjust. But, since hurting anyone makes them less excellent in human virtues and since justice is a human virtue; justice, but justness can not hurt anyone. I have two problems with this argument.

First is with the conclusion: if being just implies hurting no-one, it only cements Thrasymachus’s argument that will appear later. The second is with the actual argument: Socrates asks, for instance, “can musicians, by their art of music, make men unmusical?”. While Polemarchus answers no, I think yes. Specifically, I think it is a musician who has the most ability to render men unmusical; by using the art of music. The art of music itself does not have values. In fact, it has been agreed only pages before that “a man can guard expertly whatever he can thieve expertly” and that in cases of illness, a physician is the person who can do more harm to enemies and more good to friends.

After this, we see Thrasymachus in the scene. After a brief squabble with Socrates, he gives his view of justice: that it is the interest of the stronger. He talks about how rulers legislate laws which are in the interest of the rulers themselves. Socrates employs the pattern he just used, talking about how rulers are apt to make mistakes and legislate laws that are not in their favor. Is following those laws (which are not in the interest of the stronger) also just? Thrasymachus parries with the abstract concept of a ruler who does not make mistakes. A rules is not a ruler in the time he makes a mistake, just like a cook is not a cook at the time he forgets to season his dishes.

Then Socrates says that the art of ruling, in its highest form, is the art of taking care of the subjects being ruled. This implies that the rulers will end up legislating in interest of the people being ruled and not the rulers themselves. In fact, he says, the reason why people contest of government offices is not because they want power, but because they are averse to being ruled by an unjust man. Thrasymachus’s response is that while a shepherd tends to his sheep and has their interests in his mind; those interests stems from how he’ll harvest their wool and eat their meat later, not a genuine sense of service.

Before this argument proceeds further, Thrasymachus says something more important — that an unjust man is always better off than a just man. He gives reasons that are essentially obvious. Socrates has a bit of trouble arguing with this one. He finally ends the conversation with a teleological argument, saying that it is the property of the soul to be just and an unjust person cannot be better off than a just person since he is violating the very purpose of his soul. This argument did not make much sense to me.

In my opinion, the problem in book one is that justice is being considered a property of an individual, when it is the property of social structures. I see justice as a set of strategies which ensures a stable society — in principle, it is always more profitable for an individual to be unjust.

For instance, I could argue about how we all are automatons driven solely by the desire to increase the entropy of the universe. Not a very useful way to discuss why A’s marriage did not work out, is it? I find it more useful to look at human beings as a reflection of their line of existence through time and place. This way, I treat a person not as someone (or something) contained in the physical realms of his or her body; but as a context that spreads out in time and space. The coffee he’s drinking is changing his mood, why should it not be as much “him” as his tonsils? How about the kindergarten school she went too? Is that not as much “her” as her retina? How about the book she’s reading? This way of thinking about people is very rewarding (I personally think so) — it allows me to be more compassionate, understanding and patient. Once the object of your frustration is no longer a sharply defined physical entity, things start to diffuse and you begin thinking more clearly.

As a result of this context (spatial and temporal) which everyone carries around, we have certain goals, aspirations and biases. That is, what I think, makes us human.

I have had arguments with my peers on things like whether it is better to live comfortably without free speech and liberty or to live without material comfort surrounded by intellectual freedom. But such arguments are probably too restrictive — maybe the North Koreans are actually happy! Perhaps they [2] really do think that their dear leader is divine. Maybe is isn’t some mass cognitive dissonance after all? I find their condition desolate and pitiful because I am carrying around this huge bag full of my own context, which I shamelessly dump on them. What is it really, to think in someone else’s shoes? Can I possibly think like a unwanted child born to a prostitute in a Bombay slum? My personal rationality is biased, more so when applied to analyzing others.

It seems to me that everyone, on account of the biases in their rationality and the inherent context they carry, tend to distort their world in their own unique way, by reflecting themselves off a mirror that isn’t really perfect and by looking at others through tainted glass. But then how do you reason about the flaws in your rationality using your flawed rationality? Maybe this, the dents in our looking glasses, is the human experience. Perhaps without it the world would be a very boring place.

I still maintain that our existence, at the very base level, is purposeless and incidental. But I now have something shiny to look forward to — the human experience; something that can not be dissected, explained and thrown away.

Thanks to all those who disagreed, those who still do, chai and Albert Hofmann.

[1] http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/eagleman09/eagleman09_index.html
[2] I’m talking about the majority here — some people do try to escape.

I think, it is connected to a previous track titled Mother. The movie (album) is about the construction and (later) deconstruction of a metaphorical wall. The wall exists at many different levels (for instance, as the divide between the elite and the starving masses, apparent in What shall we do now); the most basic being the protective wall built around Pink by his mother.

Mother has a line on how Pink’s mother would check all of his girlfriends for him and won’t let anyone dirty get in. Here, Pink wanting a dirty girl signals the beginning of the wall’s destruction.

Pink Floyd amazes me every single time.

I think it is important to have an axiomatic view of life – even though it is probably impossible to justify our actions purely on logic, we should be able to do so by calling on some fundamental assumptions we make about our existence. For instance, one rather ubiquitous axiom goes “Realize God”. I don’t find that cogent, but you’re free to disagree.

Weirdly, (and sadly), for most people, the existence axiom says “Look around, and do what everyone else is doing. Be a potty trained cow.”. The less (or more, depending on how you look at it) sad part is that they are not aware of its existence.

I am more comfortable having an axiom that borders on being a tautology, since, in my opinion, that is as good as we can get. Specifically, I think “Do whatever that is required to increase the chances of us surviving as a species.” both succinct and meaningful (well, at least as meaningful these kind of things can be anyways). Since whatever you do loses all meaning with the extinction of our race, we might as well make the converse our aim.

The first corollary of the fundamental axiom implies disregard for all but those personal pleasures required to keep one’s productivity up. The second (also largely obvious) corollary involves polishing our art to the point where we can meaningfully contribute to the advancement of our species.

One can either choose to be the first monkey shot into space or a potty trained cow. There really is a choice.

• Don’t kill your daughter right after she is born.
• After successful completion of the previous step, instead of buying her a barbie, buy her a lego kit.

The last step is figurative, of course. What I really mean is that the only effective way to inculcate a technical mindset is attempting to do that early on. Giving out easy scholarships to twenty year olds because of their gender just produces more bad engineers, and that is the last thing we need.

The average Joe crowd-sources his opinions to MTV anchors and resolves his personal issues by methods not very far from a public ballot. His personal life is a democracy and his individualism is castrated.

I force myself into anti-escapism. I force myself to exist in the present, in the current moment; since one can never be sure that the past really existed and that the future would really exist. I realize that my life will not start five years from now, and that this is *it*, as good as it gets.

The average Janet is dating the average Joe. Love, institutionalized, requires them to follow a strict protocol, laid down by everybody. Does Janet love Joe or the protocol? Does Joe really not like to listen?

Our lives have no inherent meaning. Social valuations are arbitrary — attaching meaning to our existence requires some justification. We are not yet mature enough to realize that we need to survive as a species (and how difficult that is in the long term); we still have absurd concepts like nations and religion. While I find it hard to justify my ultimate objective as increasing the survival chances of our species, I’m happy to accept it as the transcendental truth.

The average Joe is content existing. He does not have an art. He does not perfect himself. Outcomes of football matches make or break his day. He believes the color of his tie is of fundamental importance to the functioning of the universe.

The average Janet won a purse in today’s raffle. She is ecstatic.

The two extreme cases are using morning-after pills (the iPill in India, for instance) which is clearly ethical, and infanticide, which is clearly wrong (ethically). In between these two extremes must lie the point where an abortion transforms from a medical operation to a homicide. How that point is to be determined is the question: When does a foetus stop being an organic growth? When does it begin counting as a person?

I’ve read about legalizing abortions reducing crime-rates as a far-reaching non-obvious consequence (Freakonomics); but letting the argument go in that direction will require proving that abortions lie outside the purview of ethics in the first place.

The argument about how it is a woman’s duty to carry her baby etc. is obviously rubbish. But trashing the whole concept of a baby being a different person because it is demeaning to women does not make a whole lot of sense to me – I don’t understand either of the clauses: why it is demeaning in the first place, and why does that invariably lead to the invalidation of the concept itself?

Even if you take Amartya Sen’s idea of justice (quite literally :) ), and discard the notion of a transcendental justice, the question still remains: till what point does abortion stay “more right” than infanticide?

What do you think?

The README file with the (rather non-rigorous) test code should be enough to get you started. This is not a typical library (since it uses the pre-processor so heavily) – you cannot compile it to, say, libcmdrargs.so and dynamically link to it. You will always need to include the source in your project.

I have not focused much on code-efficiency; granted that you parse the command line arguments only once, this should not be much of a problem. Bugs, suggestions and flames welcome.