I hold a rather controversial belief in terms of what ethical theory people should use in order to determine one’s actions. I believe it’s egoism. While this may seem quite terrible to many people, those people would probably be surprised to know that some of the most well-known and respected philosophers throughout history have held ethical beliefs that boiled down to this theory, including the likes of Aristotle, Kant, and of course, Rand. But I’m not going to defend egoism much tonight. Such a formal undertaking may be endured on some later date.

Instead, I’m going to explain a situation that makes most people believe that egoism is quite terrible. Egoism is terrible in the same way that all of people who live in New York City are rude. That is to say that egoism really isn’t terrible at all, just as all of the people who live in New York City aren’t really rude. Both of these situations suffer from misunderstanding due to bad apples spoiling the entire bunch. These bad apples spoil it for the whole bunch because those people practice it incorrectly. To be more exact, they have egoism confused with being an asshole.

Before getting too deep into this argument, let me take a step back to explain what egoism is, broadly, for those who are not entirely sure. Egoism is the theory that people ought to behave in such a way that they seek to further their own needs before seeking to further the needs of others. It’s kind of the polar opposite of altruism, which says that people ought to look out for others before they look out for themselves.

For starters, being selfish does not, by definition, make someone rude. You can want to have a productive and happy life without necessarily making sure that everyone else around you has a useless and miserable life. Life is not really a zero-sum game. How about some examples?

Let’s say you’re on the way to catch a plane (an example I’m all too familiar with). So long as you’re intelligent enough to leave with enough time to catch it, there is absolutely no reason that you should be rude to others who are also trying to catch the plane. For example, by pushing people out of the rental car bus or cutting people in the security line you will be no better off than if you hadn’t acted in this way. Indeed, if those people get annoyed, they can increase your stress level, or cause it to take even longer than it would have if you had behaved civilly. Indeed, it would actually go against egoism to act in this way since you’d probably be worse off.

Yet, many people who are way too full of themselves and act like they are more important that everyone else are falsely interpreted as being proto-typical egoists. Of course, in reality, people who act in this way are considered assholes by most. Thus, their personal relationships with others are worse off than if they were pleasant and humble. This means that, again, such bad attitudes actually creates a less optimal outcome than the better alternative, and again, goes against egoism.

I bring this all up tonight because people like this really bug me, and it bugs me even more that they spoil the reputation of egoism. Indeed, the proper egoist would donate money to charity regularly, because it is to one’s own advantage to live in a world where all people are generally happier and healthier than to live in a world where everyone is miserable but you. True rational egoism must consider these things.

Sadly many people actually believe (even if only subconsciously) that they are egoists, but behave in the incorrect way. A prime example of this is in regard to situations where there is no scarcity. Obviously if something is not scarce, then one need not attempt to have it all for oneself. This is kind of the problem of taking more than one needs. A rational egoist would never do this, as all s/he would take is what s/he needs, and leave whatever is left for others. Realize: this attitude has nothing to do with altruism – that would be taking nothing for one’s self, despite one’s own need, and just leaving it for everyone else, even though there is plenty for you as well. This is clearly irrational. Of course, it isn’t any more irrational than false-egoism where one takes more than s/he needs.

At any rate, people who act in these ways really annoy me. It’s like they ruin it for everyone else, and as a result, cause altruism to seem like a more plausibly righteous moral theory to live by. After all, these types of false-egoists are clearly bad people, so others conclude that all egoists must be bad. It is hardly true that when you get behind someone with a Kansas license plate who drives slow, that everyone from Kansas drives slow, so why generalize about something like egoism? But at least there’s the hope that, after reading this, a few people no longer will.

Why is cranberry the only juice that is virtually impossible to find without an excessive amount of sugar added?

Last weekend I listened to a presentation about networking. The presentation basically explained techniques and attitudes that help one in developing a better personal network. This particular presentation was geared towards business, but most of the content could just as easily be applied to one’s personal network of friends as well. After the presentation I had one ultimate question gnawing at me: Is networking for its own sake moral?

This might be a strange question to ask, but I suppose before making that claim, I ought to better explain the question. Somebody good at networking has developed a enormous network of people who are willing to associate with this person in business or various activities. So one might conclude that someone good at networking must be able, to some extent, to charm a great deal of people into liking him/her. So what, in theory, is wrong with having a lot of people liking you?

The problem, I think, could depend on one’s motive and attitudes. Does one just want these people to like him/her, or is this friendship mutual? If it’s mutual, then obviously, there is nothing wrong with this: it would only mean that a great networker likes a lot of people who also like him. But somehow, I doubt that this is the case.

Politicians serve as the prime example, because in order to be a good politician, one must have an incredible network. Do you really believe that politicians enjoy the company of, or even have a vague affinity, for half of the people in their network? I doubt it. Indeed, politicians almost certainly use people in order to benefit their political aspirations.

Please realize: I don’t even mean to say that in this, or any other, example a good networker necessarily uses people in a very negative way. It isn’t like they’re taking advantage of these people. I only mean that perhaps the people who help the good networker like the good networker far more than the good networker likes them – on an emotional level. Or, in fact, this networking relationship could be a two-way street: perhaps both networkers have motives for being friends with each other that has little to do with liking each other.

This happens all the time. Perhaps there is someone at work who you don’t particularly like, but you know that s/he wields quite a bit of influence in various realms of importance to you. It is clearly in your best interest to get along with this person as well as possible, despite your distaste for him/her. So I ask: is this wrong?

Aristotle actually has a very interesting, and usually neglected, theory of friendship. During college I actually wrote a pretty involved term paper on this theory. It was by far the best paper I wrote in college, and I wrote some pretty good ones. So I’d like to believe that I knew a thing or two about this theory. The paper I wrote analyzed this theory and proposed a way that Aristotle could have made his theory more consistent with another ethical view of his. I will not bore you with the details here, but instead bring up Aristotle’s theory in order to highlight a type of friendship that he wrote about at length.

Although I do not remember the exact terminology for the type of friends that I am referring to (and it matters little anyway, because it isn’t like I read it in Greek anyway, yet), the idea is quite simple. Aristotle explained a type of friendship that is held, not because we like that person for their own sake, but because being friends with this person serves some purpose in our life. I think that this is interesting because it shows that, even back in ancient times, people weren’t that different when it came to how they approached friendship. While some people had friends because they just liked those people (liking them “for their own sake”), people also had friends because having this friendship brought about some end that they sought in their lives. This latter case is exactly the case that I refer to within my ethical question about networking.

Okay, so we have concluded that people have acted this way for quite some time, but that tells us little about the ethical value of acting in this way. After all, people have been murdering each other for quite some time as well, but that’s hardly a reason to say that it’s a morally acceptable action to take. And while I could delve into Aristotle’s thoughts on these friends, I’m on a plane while his complete works sit on my downstairs book shelf in my Manhattan apartment, and to be frank, I don’t recall the details of his theory. I remember that his general attitude to these types of friends was a practical one. If I recall correctly, he thought it was ideal to become friends with people for their own sake, but he understood the potential importance for becoming friends with people in order to further some end. Of course, that doesn’t make it ethical either. Aristotle didn’t get everything right.

I think the only way to really evaluate this question is by considering how the relationship at hand and variations on this relationship are internalized. This might be an odd notion, so let me just move on for a minute, and what I’m getting at should become clear. I will do this by considering three scenarios. For each of these scenarios, I will assert a state of immorality can only occur if a person is harmed, even if that harm is emotional.

The first scenario is easy. Two people have a friendship where they like one another. Obviously, this is morally acceptable. Their friendship takes the standard form, and even if they both benefit from the friendship in some unintentional way, their friendship was pure and without any foreseen harm.

The second scenario is a little trickier. Two people have a friendship, but while Friend A likes Friend B, Friend B, does not actually like Friend A. The Friend B is only friends with Friend A in order to attain some end. The problem here, I think, is that this end is almost certainly fleeting, or at any rate, cannot be guaranteed to be permanent. In other words, a time will probably come when that end is no longer relevant, and Friend B no longer has any use for Friend A. But if Friend A genuinely liked Friend B, then it seems plausible that some emotional attachment (even if slight) has formed in Friend A’s psyche to Friend B. So when the time comes that Friend B has no problem cutting off the friendship, then Friend A will be emotionally hurt. Thus, this scenario is morally reprehensible.

The final scenario may seem like the oddest, but will turn out to be surprisingly intuitive. Two people have a friendship, but Friend A does not particularly like Friend B, and Friend B does not particularly like Friend A. They are friends with each other because each sees some favorable end that could be attained through their friendship. This case actually turns out to be pretty easy, because there is no emotional attachment whatsoever. If one of the Friends decides to break off the friendship, the other is not emotionally hurt. Sure, that other person’s end may now be harder to attain, but attaining that end was never achieved in the first place, so nothing is actually lost. No tangible harm is done.

What results is kind of an odd situation. It seems perfectly obvious that friendships where both parties are in the same state of mind in terms of their affinity (or lack thereof) for one another are morally acceptable. But if a friendship results in such a scenario where there is a disconnect with the friend’s affinity for one another, then this friendship is morally reprehensible. Of course, it seems obvious that the particular party which is morally reprehensible in this scenario is the friend who could eventually hurt the other, the friend who does not like the other for his/her own sake.

It’s important to realize that motive has almost nothing to do with this result. The claim is not that a friendship based on different motives is doomed to be morally unacceptable. I could think of a slew of counterexamples where a friendship originally based on some external end evolved in such a way that one party began to develop an affinity for the other. Suddenly, a friendship that began through the same motivations becomes problematic.

And this example points out a very strange consequence of this result. What if a friendship does evolve in this way? It seems like if this is the case, then by Friend A developing an affinity for Friend B, Friend A has somehow caused Friend B to be morally reprehensible, as Friend B how has the potential to emotionally harm Friend A. Strange, isn’t it?

So what can we learn from this? I think that a conclusion that one can draw from this is that, if you are going to engage in a friendship which is based on some external end other than pure friendship, then you had better make sure you keep it that way. If the person you are friends with begins to like you, and there is no chance of you ever liking him/her, then you are going to be acting immorally by having this friendship.

Although this idea seems quite counterintuitive, it suddenly becomes very intuitive when one applies it to real life: think about business relationships. In a business relationship, generally, the friendship is not one where the two parties have a great affinity for one another. They are friends because they do business together. In such a relationship, they associate with one another during business hours, but have separate pure friends who they associate with outside work. Isn’t it a fairly popular belief that it’s good to keep this separation – that it’s good to keep your work life separate from your personal life?

This is a perfect example of what this consequence requires. Before, we all just thought it seemed convenient and less potentially messy to keep one’s work friends and personal friends separate. But, in fact, the theory above shows that it is actually the morally correct way to act. Obviously, the opposing case is one where the two business colleagues take to one another on a personal level rather quickly, and that’s fine too, because the feeling is mutual. But a pure business relationship should generally remain just that, because for it to be any other way could be problematic.

So finally, where does this leave networking? I think it actually leaves networking in a pretty good place. Networking is fine, so long as there’s no mistake that you, and the people you network with, are on the same page in terms of your feelings for one another. If you use your charm to network and make lots of friends who develop an affinity for you, but you cannot stand, then this is wrong. But if you develop a network based on mutual goals, or mutual affinity, then this is fine, so long as things remain this way.

What is the point of publicly disgracing one’s self in order to attain plastic beads worth approximately ten cents?

Once in a while I can’t help writing a journal entry related to sports. Not too long ago, I wrote an entry relating to last year’s ALCS and Curt Shilling’s decision to temporarily rig his ligament-torn ankle so to still be able to pitch, despite the fact that it could have caused him major permanent harm. A while before that I wrote an entry about intentional walks in baseball, and how I believe that they can become harmful when they get out of hand – an entry inspired by Barry Bonds, who has more walks each year than some entire teams. Well, if you read those entries, then you’ll see tonight’s topic related, to some extent, to both: steroids.

Yes, I think it’s well overdue that a baseball fan of my magnitude, who also keeps an online journal of general random thoughts, ought to write an entry on the extremely well-publicized steroid controversy in baseball. To be honest, I probably would have written about it much sooner, but I have been neglecting my journal as of late, due mostly to a vacation and being otherwise quite busy. But the time has come for me to weigh in on the issue.

I think it’s silly. To be more specific I think that people’s reactions to the situation are silly. I love how there’s all this shock and bewilderment that professional athletes use steroids. Their job is to be physically superior human beings – you really find it surprising that they wouldn’t be interested in a little extra help that would give them an edge in reaching exactly that goal? That’s like being surprised to learn that a computer programmer would buy a brand new computer that would allow his programming to go more smoothly.

What I guess I also find amusing and interesting is the fact that all of this controversy got started in baseball. Of all the sports where being big and strong matter, I think baseball ranks at the bottom of the list. Size and strength give you a much bigger advantage in, say, football, hockey, or even basketball. If you think that steroids are a problem in baseball, can you imagine how bad of a problem it must be in football? Have you ever seen most of those football players? Yet, baseball is the sport getting most criticized for it.

I can’t say that I support the use of steroids, because I know that they can be very harmful to one’s body. If they weren’t harmful, then I’d have no problem with them. In that case, everyone would just do them, so it really wouldn’t give some players an advantage over others. But I am not nearly as angry about the situation as some people were. They think that today’s players are ruining the game for doing it. Do you really believe that other well known players of history wouldn’t have done steroids if they existed at the time? Those players, just like the players of today, worked as hard as they could to be the best athletes they could be. Steroids help to accomplish this goal.

What I guess I find most absurd about the recent steroid situation is how it has been handled in the U.S. Suddenly, Congress is concerned about steroids in baseball, and held congressional hearings about it. Let me say that one more time: The U.S. Congress – arguably the most important individual governmental body in the world – held a few weeks of hearings and discussions about a game that grown men play where they hit a ball with a stick. No wonder the rest of the world hates us. When they should be worrying about things like social security reform, stability in the middle-east, and world hunger, they’re conducting a witch-hunt to find out what players of this game consumed chemicals to make the a little stronger, and demanding it stop.

And why? What prompted Congress to have these hearings? Some blowhard has-been named Jose Conseco wrote a book where he claimed lots of players used steroids. And he named names. Does that mean if a disgruntled Microsoft programmer writes a book that claims Bill Gates is a messenger of Satan that Congress will begin probing into Microsoft and finding a young priest and an old priest to exorcise his demons? I find the whole situation ludicrous.

So my view, then, is basically that steroids are bad, but people need to settle down about it. I find it pathetic, and even offensive, that Congress would have the nerve and stupidity to waste its time and money where its influence doesn’t belong anyway by trying to help resolve the steroids situation. If the fans, players, and owners don’t want to put the necessary measures in action to prevent steroid use in baseball, then so be it: they must not really care if it goes on. And ya know what – that’s fine. It’s their game anyway.

Why is it that whenever I want to sleep on a plane, I’m not a bit tired, but when I want to stay up on a plane, I get drowsy?

On occasion, I read. When I do read, there is one thing that generally annoys me. This occurs when I first open a book, greeted by an introduction.

They come in many forms. There’s the preface, the foreword, the author’s note, the general introduction, and many more. They all serve as a sort of preparation for what one is about to read. They all piss me off.

I can think of a variety of reasons why I don’t like introductions. For starters, it bothers me that there is a part of the book that attempts to tell you about the book before you actually start reading it. Why not just read the book instead of having the author (or some other seemingly arbitrary writer) tell you what you’re about to read? You’re about to read it anyway, why not just get on with it?

And that brings me to the second reason that intros annoy me: They delay the inevitable. If you’re gonna read a book, why the need to trudge through an annoying intro? I find this especially troublesome if it’s a book with one of those excruciating long 40-50 page intros. I remember when I read “Paradise Lost”. The intro in the edition I read was so long that it nearly eclipsed the length of Paradise Lost itself.

The point that it delays the inevitable kind of relates to another thing that I don’t like about introductions: they make it take even longer to read a book. I don’t mind the act of reading itself. I think many books have a great deal to offer, but I find it very difficult to spend hours upon hours reading a book. I feel like the opportunity cost of reading a book is so great, that unless a book is truly incredible, it is hardly worth the hours upon hours that it takes to read it. These are hours I could be watching great films, looking at art in museums, improving my physical fitness at the gym, or even enjoying the company of friends. To sit in a room, by myself, and read, what I’m reading had better be pretty great. And, quite frankly, introductions to books rarely pass such a test of greatness.

I know what you’re thinking: “So Dan, just don’t read introductions – what’s the big deal?” Well the big deal is what leads me to the next reason that introductions annoy me: the guilt factor. So let’s say I skip the introduction. What’s lost? I’m not sure, and that’s just the problem. On one hand, you worry you might have missed something important. What if this is one of the rare times that the writer of the introduction has something interesting or insightful to say about the book. I don’t want to miss out on that.

Surely introductions occasionally turn out to be worthwhile. But even if it isn’t the case that an introduction is particularly worthwhile, there’s a certain feeling of incompletion when one fails to read it. Suddenly, when you hold up the book, you can’t say you really read it in its entirety, because you failed to read the introduction. So I guess what I’m saying here is that, in principle, the introduction is a part of the book, so the book can’t really be truly read without reading it.

Finally, introductions get my nerves because there’s just no point. By in large, most people have some clue what the book they’re about to read is about. It’s pretty unusual when someone just grabs an arbitrary book in the bookstore and library and begins reading it without knowing anything about it. If you want to know about a book, then you can read any kind of literary criticism or analysis you’d like after you’ve read it. And wouldn’t it make more sense to do it this way, rather than placing the cart before the horse?

I guess I’ve just had enough of reading introductions over the years. Sadly, the guilt factor looms over me more often than not, so I still find myself reading them far more than I’d like. I generally abide by a rule that if an intro is written by the author, or someone significant, or if it isn’t sufficiently succinct, then it isn’t worth my time. Of course, even with this rule, I suspect I still spend far more hours reading introductions than I should.

How do you pronounce Kyrgyz?