Taketomi Volcano by Alexander Lavrentiev
occasionally subtle

Love Begins
taylor price
Not today Justin
EXPECTATIONS
Cosimo Galluzzi
RMH
noise dept.

roma★

pixel skylines

Game Changer & Make Some Noise

oozey mess
KIROKAZE
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available

No title available

#extradirty
Monterey Bay Aquarium

shark vs the universe

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from United States

seen from Denmark

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Germany

seen from Spain

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Japan
@xhxhxhx
Taketomi Volcano by Alexander Lavrentiev
Today, the Supreme Court handed down opinions in TikTok Inc. v. Garland, No. 24-656, slip op. (U.S. Jan. 17, 2025), sustaining the federal law banning the social media platform.
For my own sake, I tried to figure out what the law says and does, bracketing the First Amendment issues.
I.
The federal law at issue is the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act, Pub. L. No. 118-50, div. H, 138 Stat. 955. It's a division of an April 2024 appropriations bill, a bundle that came with aid for Israel and Ukraine.
The Act targets "foreign adversary controlled applications," which it defines, in part, as applications operated by ByteDance, TikTok, their subsidiaries or successors, or any entity they own or control. § 2(g)(3)(A), 138 Stat. at 958.
The Act's prohibitions address app stores and web hosts. They're the ones who have to deny support to "foreign adversary controlled applications," and keep them off their platforms.
The Act makes it unlawful "to distribute, maintain, or update" the app by providing either (A) "a marketplace" through which users in the United States "may access, maintain, or update" the application, or (B) "internet hosting services" that enable "distribution, maintenance, or updating" for users in the United States. § 2(a)(1).
These prohibitions are only applicable to the territory of the United States and those within it. They address "carrying out, within the land or maritime borders of the United States," acts for "users within the land or maritime borders of the United States."
The territorial language, "the land and maritime borders of the United States," is not defined within the Act. Nor is it defined anywhere else in the U.S. Code. It's only used once. 6 U.S.C. § 124h(e).
That said, deducing "the land and maritime borders of the United States" should be fairly straightforward for someone familiar with the relevant boundary treaties and law of the sea, as understood by the political branches. It's just not something I understand.
II.
The Act targets "foreign adversary controlled applications," which it defines, in part, as applications operated by ByteDance, TikTok, their subsidiaries or successors, or any entity they own or control. § 2(g)(3)(A), 138 Stat. at 958.
The Act extends to covered companies "controlled by a foreign adversary," following a public notice and a public report to Congress, § 2(g)(3)(B), but ByteDance and TikTok are the only persons identified by name.
The language seems broad. But "controlled by foreign adversary" is fairly narrow. It means persons domiciled in "foreign adversary countries," entities they have a 20 percent stake in, and persons subject to their direction or control. § 2(g)(1). That's it.
The term "foreign adversary country" is defined obliquely, § 2(4), by reference to a military minerals procurement rule, 10 U.S.C. § 4872, but it only covers four countries, specified by name: North Korea, China, Russia, and Iran. 10 U.S.C. § 4872(d)(2).
The President could, in other words, ban applications operated by persons domiciled in North Korea, China, Russia, or Iran, or entities in which such persons have a 20 percent stake, or entities subject to their direction or control.
It doesn't sweep much further than that.
III.
The "foreign adversary country" limitation means the Act isn't an unconstrained delegation to the President.
It's not like the President's authority to "suspend the entry of all aliens or any class of aliens as immigrants or nonimmigrants, or impose on the entry of aliens any restrictions he may deem to be appropriate." 8 U.S.C. § 1182(f); Exec. Order No. 13,769, 82 Fed. Reg. 8977 (Jan. 27, 2017).
Nor is it like the President's authority to restrict entry from countries "designated by the Secretary of State," or "designated by the Secretary of Homeland Security." 8 U.S.C. § 1187(a)(12); Exec. Order No. 13,780, § 1(b)(i), 82 Fed. Reg. 13209 (March 6, 2017).
Nor is it like the President's claimed authority to bar "any transaction by any person, or with respect to any property, subject to the jurisdiction of the United States, with ByteDance Ltd.," Exec. Order No. 13,942, § 1(a), 85 Fed. Reg. 48637 (Aug. 6, 2020), a claim that proved wanting. TikTok Inc. v. Trump, 507 F. Supp. 3d 92 (D.D.C. 2020); Marland v. Trump, 498 F. Supp. 3d 625 (E.D. Pa. 2020).
The Act is, mercifully, is more constrained than that.
I Feel Like I Win When I Lose
On April 6, 1974, ABBA won the Eurovision Song Contest with "Waterloo." The song transformed Napoleon's last defeat into a metaphor for surrender.
It's paradoxical. But perhaps it was exactly right. In surrender, ABBA found a vision for a Europe that had found union in defeat.
I.
Before he met his destiny, Napoleon developed his own vision of European unity.
Napoleon's Continental System envisioned a Europe unified through its insulation from British trade. But for Napoleon, the System was always an exercise in command and control.
In his Berlin Decree of November 21, 1806, Napoleon declared Britain under a state of blockade. All commerce with Britain was prohibited. All British goods were to be seized.
The System would unite Europe through the force of that command. It was a vision of a Europe bound by imperial will, through a decree “[f]rom our Imperial Camp at Berlin.”
In two more decrees, issued November 23 and December 17, 1807, the Emperor expanded the regime into a system inspections, confiscations, and certificates of origin.
The last decree the Emperor handed to his foreign minister, with instructions to carry it to the Netherlands, Spain, and Denmark, so these nominal sovereigns could execute it as written.
II.
Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo. His System had been defeated long before that.
At Tilsit in July 1807, Napoleon secured the consent of his Russian counterpart, Alexander, to a blockade on Britain. But unlike the little princes, Alexander did not take commands from Napoleon.
Russian public participation in Napoleon’s System was more oblique. No term on British trade entered the Russian treaty. Under its terms, Russia agreed to mediate a peace between France and Britain, 8 G. Martens 2d 640, but its only reference to commerce was Russia’s commerce with France and its clients, which it restored. Id. at 642.
Not even the separate, secret treaty of alliance commit Russia to the System. It only committed Russia to make war on Britain if Britain rejected Russian mediation, or declined to make peace on French terms. 13 F. Martens 323. In that case, Russia would be obliged to close its ports to British trade. Id. at 324. Not otherwise.
Tilsit reflects the illusions of its moment. Napoleon had seen only what he wanted to in Alexander. As Albert Sorel observed, Tilist left behind no formal engagements, no plans, only “inclinations, allusions, of which only the memories would remain.” 7 Sorel 179. Perhaps not even that.
Russia would come in on its own terms.
In August 1807, the month after Tilsit, the Emperor of All Russias issued his own decree. Russia had been troubled by foreigners, it said, and he was going to do something about it. Starting on January 1, 1808, foreigners would barred from entering the Empire, and all from exiting it, without a passport from the Russian foreign ministry. 8 G. Martens 2d 687.
This was how Russia would support the System. Not through union with Europe, but separation from it. Not through surrender to another European empire, but resistance to the whole world. In the voice of its Tsar, Russia would assert sovereignty and dominion.
To the Russian people, the decree presented another face. Their Emperor had decided to order an exacting surveillance of his subjects. They would not lose their freedoms under law, the decree assured them. They could leave if they wanted. They just couldn’t leave without his permission. Id. at 688.
III.
In the secret Treaty of Tilsit, France and Russia had undertaken to make war on Denmark, Sweden, and Portugal if they declined to make war on Britain, and close their ports to British trade. 13 F. Martens 324.
Although Denmark was not a party to the Treaty of Tilsit, nor even permitted to see it, the treaty obliged Denmark to make war on Sweden. If Sweden refused to make war on Britain, “Denmark would be constrained to make war on them.” Id.
Sweden had been Napoleon's erstwhile ally. At his direction, Sweden had declared war on Britain, but never fired a shot in anger, even as British goods made their way to Baltic ports.
Sweden's compliance had always been a fiction. But after Tilsit, as Russian troops massed on the borders of Swedish Finland, Sweden embraced its old enemy. British ships appeared in Swedish ports. British goods flowed freely.
Russia issued its demands, Sweden refused, Russia declared war, Sweden lost. Sweden ceded Finland, forever. At home, the Swedish estates deposed their king and invited Napoleon's great marshal, Jean-Baptiste Jules Bernadotte, to succeed to its throne.
IV.
Sweden had been a reactionary monarchy since the coup of 1772. Now the Swedish estates made sure it would never return to the throne. Now Charles XIII would acknowledge that his dynasty would end with his own life.
Under Sweden's Constitution of 1772, the king had ruled alone, "he and no other." § 2. His councilors had "advised, as their office requires, but not ruled." § 4. His councilors had not been responsible to the estates, but to him and him alone.
Under Bernadotte, Napoleon's marshal, things would be different. The king would no longer rule alone. Now he would rule in council. Swed. Const. of 1809 §§ 4, 7, 8.
But now, with Napoleon's friends commanding the Baltic Sea, his Continental System came apart. Alexander's Russia and Bernadotte's Sweden, turned against his grand design. Russia opened itself to British ships. Sweden had never truly closed.
In 1812, as Napoleon marched toward Moscow, Sweden and Russia turned openly against him. The Continental System gave way to war, and war to defeat. And at Waterloo, Napoleon was defeated.
Europe's princes divided the Continent between themselves. Europe's new Continental System, tacit and informal, was not a unit, but a league. It was a league against war and revolution, sealed by a congress of princes.
Europe learned something from Napoleon's fall: that command creates its own resistance, that command without consent is command without power.
V.
After another war, Europe tried something different. On April 18, 1951, six nations signed the Treaty of Paris establishing the European Coal and Steel Community, which became the European Economic Community after 1957.
Britain stood apart. It founded its own European Free Trade Association, Sweden included, even as it watched the Community grow stronger. It applied to join the European Economic Community in 1961. It was vetoed by France's President de Gaulle, suspicious of Britain's entry into its Continental compact. In 1967, it applied again, and was vetoed again.
Only with de Gaulle's resignation in 1969 could Britain finally enter the Community, as it did in 1973. But the question remained: How much sovereignty could a state surrender before independence became servitude? How much autonomy could it yield before victory became defeat?
VI.
And then came ABBA, making Waterloo into a love song. Not about Napoleon's defeat or Britain's victory, but about the sweetness of surrender. About finding freedom in yielding. About how losing yourself to another might be its own kind of triumph.
The genius isn't in the irony but in the constitutional truth: Modern Europe has always been about learning to love what defeats you. About finding victory in defeat. About making defeat and victory the same thing.
That's what "Waterloo" caught, as did Eurovision, itself an exercise in competitive unity, division serving union. Europe heard itself in the paradox: nationalism performing its own dissolution, Waterloo celebrating surrender, sovereignty and submission becoming one.
That's the trick Europe learned. The only trick it needed. The surrender that saves you.
VII.
In 1975, Britain would face its first Brexit referendum. It was a kind of Waterloo for Britain's beleaguered Brexiteers. Europe won. Britain was defeated; Europe won the war.
And they promised to love them forever more.
One of the things that's kept me from writing has been an anxiety about correctness or completeness. I've been trying to stave that off, but it still eats at me.
In that spirit, I started writing this piece. It was meant to be what I know about the equal protection component of the Due Process Clause of the Fifth Amendment.
But because the Equal Protection Clause itself has no apparent antecedents in the Constitution and laws of the United States, I wound up writing something else. An introduction.
I.
The Constitution of the United States has two Due Process Clauses, but only one Equal Protection Clause.
The Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment sits with the Privileges and Immunities and Due Process Clauses at the end of one long sentence:
No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.
The Equal Protection Clause joins the start of that sentence with its last clause, after that last semicolon, "No state shall . . . deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws."
II.
Unlike its companion clauses, the Equal Protection Clause was new to the Constitution.
The Privileges and Immunities Clause had its antecedent in the Privileges or Immunities Clause of Article IV, and the Due Process Clause had its antecedent in the Fifth Amendment.
But the original Constitution doesn't have an Equal Protection Clause. The stem "equal" does appear in the original Constitution, but always an aid to addition and division.
The original Constitution guaranteed equality between classes of Senators, "divided as equally as may be," and forbid amendments that would deprive the States of their "equal Suffrage in the Senate." Equality between persons was harder to find.
Neither the original Constitution nor the Bill of Rights speaks to civil or political equality, nor expressly. The principle might be in there somewhere, but it's not in the text.
III.
Justice Douglas did find an implicit principle of political equality in the Constitution and laws of the United States. In 1963, he authored the phrase that became the standard for political equality in the United States, "one person, one vote." Gray v. Sanders, 372 U.S. 368, 381 (1963).
At the time, no State met that standard. In Georgia and Florida, a fourth or an eighth of the State's population could control the upper house. In Nevada, a twelfth could. Nat'l Mun. League, Compendium on Legislative Apportionment at iv (1962).
But the problem wasn't limited to the South or to State upper houses. In New York's State Assembly, where the average population of a district was 111,882, the smallest had a population of 14,974, and the largest 190,343. Id.
In California, where Chief Justice Earl Warren had been Attorney General, Governor, and Senator before making himself useful enough to Eisenhower to win his nomination as Chief Justice of the United States, the situation was worse than anywhere but Nevada.
In California's Senate, where the average district population was 392,930, the smallest had a population of 14,294, and the largest 6,038,771. In the Golden State, districts representing 10.7% of the State's population were a majority of the State Senate. Id.
In California, Warren had opposed attempts to reapportion the State Senate. "I believe we should keep it," Governor Warren had said. He approved of unequal representation in the State Senate because it was "in keeping with the federal system of representation."
Under the "one person, one vote" standard, first the Supreme Court, then the inferior courts of the United States, systematically compelled State legislatures to reestablish themselves on the basis of strict population equality between districts.
IV.
After announcing his retirement, Chief Justice Warren held a press conference during the Court's summer recess, on a day that happened to be the day after the Fourth of July. N.Y. Times, July 6, 1968, at 1.
But now, July 5, 1968, when asked what he thought the most important cases of his term were, Chief Justice Warren didn't say Brown, or Gideon, or Miranda. The most important case of his term, he said, was Baker v. Carr, 369 U.S. 186 (1962).
Baker was where the Court first held that legislative apportionment was a judicial question, not a political one. It was where the Court first held that unequal legislative apportionment was, or could be, a denial of the equal protection of the laws.
"For a long, long time we have swept under the rug a number of problems that are basic to American life," Chief Justice Warren told the reporters. "They have piled up. There must be great adjustments of some kind." Baker was Warren's great adjustment.
Baker was the start of the reapportionment revolution, a revolution that came to be known by the name Justice Douglas used in another reapportionment case: "one person, one vote." Gray v. Sanders, 372 U.S. 368, 381 (1963).
For Warren, "one person, one vote" was nearly a matter of faith. "I believe so devoutly," he wrote in his memoirs, that "ours is a government of all the people, by all the people, and for all the people." Memoirs at 308.
But Warren was more comfortable grounding the right in "the essence of a democratic society," Reynolds v. Sims, 377 U.S. 533, 555 (1964), than in particular provisions of the Constitution, much less the original Constitution.
Even Justice Douglas didn't trace "one person, one vote" to the original Constitution.
V.
Justice Douglas may be best known as the author of that unhappy metaphor about the Constitution's "penumbras and emanations." Griswold v. Connecticut, 381 U.S. 479, 484 (1965).
But for Justice Douglas, the "conception of political equality" that ratified the principle of "one person, one vote" ran, for the first century of the republic, outside the Constitution:
The conception of political equality from the Declaration of Independence, to Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, to the Fifteenth, Seventeenth, and Nineteenth Amendments can mean only one thing—one person, one vote.
Gray v. Sanders, 372 U.S. 368, 381 (1963).
Neither the Declaration of Independence, which recognized that “All men are created equal,” nor Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, which recalled and restated it, made law. Not domestic law, at least. The essence of democracy spoke one way; the constitutional text, for nearly a century, spoke another.
For the first century of the republic, the "conception of political equality" was hard to find in the Constitution and the laws of the United States. Even for Douglas, who could find rights in penumbras and emanations, its roots lay elsewhere. It came from America's political tradition, not its fundamental law.
I return to posting today. But it'll be different.
I.
Last September, I pledged myself to post every day, or at least every weekday. I wasn't able to deliver.
It also proved incompatible with exercise. If I wrote, I could not exercise. It sapped me of the day's energy and will. When the day's end came, I found I could not move.
That was true even when I did not write. If I planned to write, but failed, I would still find myself powerless to move, the same I did on days when I wrote and delivered.
As the weeks went on, I found myself growing heavier. I became heavier in weight, heavier in temperament. I was slower, duller. I was, perhaps, less anxious than before.
But I was fat, and getting fatter.
II.
There's a rhythm in things. If you catch it, you can do anything.
If you do the right work, at just the right time, you catch the rhythm. It gives you a second wind, and a third, and a fourth. And if you keep it up, you can go forever.
That's what I thought. It might still be what I think. But whatever the case, I wasn't catching the rhythm last year. I certainly wasn't keeping it up.
III.
Today, I pledge myself to post something here every other weekday, and something to Substack every week.
That's the new plan. Let's see how it works out.
Reading day.
No post today. Reading day.
No post today. Cleaning day.
No post today. Cleaning day.
No post today. Too sleepy.
No post today. Getting clapped.
I asked Claude:
I received an anonymous message that reads: "No post today. Getting clapped."
What does it mean?
Claude replied:
Based on the context from your documents, particularly your piece about engagement metrics and notes, this appears to be a reader commenting on your absence and suggesting you're focusing too much on validation ("getting clapped" - receiving applause/approval) rather than writing.
You're right, anon. Very astute.
No post today. Reading day.
No post today. Sucking dick.
but I did write a post today!
and I haven't sucked any dick at all!!!
The Treaty of Versailles that ended the Great War consists of 440 articles spread across fifteen parts. But the Germans made one provision infamous before they even signed: Article 231.
The first section in Part VIII, on reparations, the article reads:
The Allied and Associated Governments affirm and Germany accepts the responsibility of Germany and her Allies for causing all the loss and damage to which the Allied and Associated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies.
In its translation, Germany was "als Urheber für alle Verluste und Schäden," "the author of all the loss and damage."
The Germans called it the "war guilt clause." They said it forced them to accept sole blame for starting the war. They said it was meant to justify crushing reparations demands. They said it was meant to humiliate them.
But for all its political weight, Article 231 did almost nothing at all.
I.
Article 231 does declare Germany's liability to Allied governments and nationals for wartime losses and damage.
In an ordinary agreement, that kind of declaration would be binding and enforceable. If Germany and the Allied governments and nationals could not settle the debt, they could sue.
In a suit on Article 231, a court would have to decide the open issues. They would have to quantify the "loss and damage," decide which harms were "a consequence of the war," and apportion contribution between "Germany and her Allies."
But that wouldn't be unusual. That's the work courts do every day. And the basic question, the question of liability, has been settled by consent: "The Allied and Associated Governments affirm and Germany accepts the responsibility."
The trouble is that the Article attributes liability to sovereigns. And sovereigns play by different rules.
II.
A sovereign cannot be sued in their own courts without their express consent. Nor can they be sued in another sovereign's courts, unless that sovereign has expressly stripped away their immunity.
A provision like Article 231, which attributes liability to sovereigns like Germany and her Allies, declares a legal obligation that, on its own, cannot be recognized or remedied in any court.
By default, no court has jurisdiction to enforce Germany's liability. Unless Germany expressly consented to suit in its courts, or Allied governments expressly stripped Germany's immunity in theirs, no one can bring suit.
Germany's acknowledged liability would be binding between the signatories as a matter of conscience. But it wouldn't change anything anywhere else.
And sovereigns aren't known for their consciences.
III.
The provision that sparked years of German resentment was, legally speaking, an empty vessel, known not for what it did, but for what people believed it meant.
That's why Part VIII doesn't stop at Article 231.
The next provision, Article 232, creates a Reparation Commission. The Commission would quantify Germany's debt, determine which losses flowed from the war, and decide how much it could pay.
More importantly, Article 233 binds Germany to accept the Commission's decisions. Under the annexed terms establishing the Commission, Germany agrees that its decisions "shall forthwith become binding and may be put into immediate execution without further proceedings."
Article 231 declared Germany's liability, but Article 233 made it real. It created an instrument to fix the debt and bind Germany to pay it. Article 233, and the Commission it established, transformed Germany's abstract liability into concrete obligation.
The Mixed Claims Commission between the United States and Germany said as much in a November 1923 decision:
Article 231 of the Versailles Treaty at most amounts to no more than an acceptance by Germany of the affirmance by the Allied and Associated Governments of Germany's responsibility for all loss and damage suffered as a consequence of the war—a moral responsibility.
"Germany's financial responsibility," it continued, was somewhere else: "in the succeeding Article."
The Germans fixated on Article 231 because it seemed to blame them for the war. But Article 231 was just window dressing. The real machinery of reparations lay in the provisions that followed.
The Germans fought the phantom and ignored the machine.
IV.
But it worked.
By focusing public anger on the "war guilt clause," Germany's Weimar Coalition governments, Social Democrats and Liberals and Catholic Christian Democrats alike, built an unbreakable domestic consensus around the fundamental illegitimacy of reparations.
That consensus sustained German resistance through the French occupation of the Rhineland. It legitimized Germany's serial defaults. It helped Germany evade the kind of international oversight and austerity that the League forced on Austria and Hungary.
In November 1929, the Nationalist opposition tabled a bill that would have declared Article 231 "not binding in international law." The government easily dispatched the bill. But make no mistake, the Weimar Coalition told the Reichstag:
Every German Government has rejected the unilateral guilt sentence of the treaty of Versailles in formal declarations and with progressive successes has used the available possibilities of setting the world straight concerning the true causes of the war.
And so they had.
In the end, Weimar Germany's campaign against Article 231 succeeded in breaking the reparations settlement. Long before the Weimar Republic fell, Germany had whittled down its reparations to a fraction of the Versailles amount.
V.
Germany's victory came at a cost.
In teaching Germans that Versailles was fundamentally illegitimate, that it was built on the lie about German war guilt written into Article 231, the Weimar Coalition undermined not just the reparations settlement, but the entire peace.
Gustav Bauer, the Social Democratic premier that signed the Treaty on Germany's behalf, accepted most of the Versailles terms. But the delegates in the National Assembly had elected him to resist Article 231, and he resisted it to the end.
On June 23, 1919, Bauer delivered a stinging protest against the Treaty it was signing. Germany would surrender, but Germany would never apologize:
It is apparent to the Government of the German Republic, in consternation at the last communication of the Allied and Associated Governments, that these Governments have decided to wrest from Germany by force acceptance of the peace conditions, even those which, without presenting any material significance, aim at divesting the German people of their honor. No act of violence can touch the honor of the German people. The German people, after frightful suffering in these last years, have no means of defending themselves by external action. Yielding to superior force, and without renouncing in the meantime its own view of the unheard-of-injustice of the peace conditions, the Government of the German Republic declares that it is ready to accept and sign the peace conditions imposed.
But Bauer's protest against Article 231—and its "indigestible" claim of German responsibility—gave future Germans and their leaders permission to reject more than reparations.
On January 30, 1937, the Chancellor and Führer announced Germany's withdrawal from Article 231:
I solemnly withdraw the German signature from that declaration which was extracted under duress from a weak Government, acting against its better judgment—namely, the declaration that Germany was responsible for the war.
It was no more than what Bauer had said in 1919.
I've been avoiding this. Let's do it anyways.
I.
Each time I start writing, I find myself turning to the notes.
The notes are signs of interest and engagement. Each like and each reblog is an affirmation, a sign that someone somewhere approved of the writing, and perhaps even read it.
The notes are a rough index of interest. But they tell me what works and what doesn't.
The trouble is that what they're telling me hurts.
II.
As a measure of what I'm interested in—the underlying interest of the writing—the notes are imprecise. But they're a direct, affirmative sign of interest and engagement. That's enough.
They are, of course, only a proxy. And even our measures of the proxy are subject to the errors of time and chance. Still, with time, and repeated trial, the measures converge.
Time and trial sift out the errors of time and chance. Beneath is a measure of our proxy, with errors sifted out. That's my proxy for what I'm interested in, the writing itself.
By the same rule, if less reliably, we can take the measure of an attribute, across different objects. Then we can account for its effect on our proxy, and on our underlying, the interest of the writing.
That accounting is what tells me what works and what doesn't.
III.
I know I'm not supposed to be reading that accounting.
I am not sure what I am supposed to be reading, but I know I'm not supposed to be reading the notes. I know they pain me. I know they mislead me. But I drift without them.
I don't have enough to say without them. I wake with nothing to say. Nothing else drives me to speak. Without their prompting I am not sure I would say anything at all.
That's what drives me to the notes. I read the notes to find some clue as to whether anything that I may know, or may say, will interest someone, somewhere.
That's what the notes tell me. That's what the accounting tells me.
But of course that's the thing that hurts.
IV.
The thing the notes tell me is the world outside my personal knowledge is more engaging than the world within it.
When I write about the outside world, hearsay world, the writing finds readers. When I write about what I know to be true, it doesn't. Because what I know is what interests readers least.
I read this material. I do write about it. But I have no expertise in it. I have no experience in it. I cannot write what I know to be true, or fairly infer from facts known to me.
I can only write from what others have said. Not from persons I know. Nor about practices within my knowledge. But about strange things, done by strangers, reported by strangers.
It pains me to write about facts not known to me.
I suppose that's why I write more about statutes and treaties and constitutions, which we may read without attestation, 1 U.S.C. §§ 112, 113; 28 U.S.C. § 1738, than anything else.
But it's more than that. It's that what I am and what I know interests people less than what I don't and what I'm not.
When I write about this material, I put myself out frame. This material takes more time and energy, but it's energy I spend repressing myself, and taking care not to say what I don't know.
That's what the notes tell me: That the more of myself I put in, the less people want the product.
V.
I have trapped myself again.
I made it too hard to write as I want to. I have read the notes, learned what people want, and turned away from it.
That's what trapped me before, too. I learned that what people wanted was someone who knew what I didn't know. That they wanted someone who wasn't me.
I applied myself to become someone else, to know enough to know something, to hear enough to have something to say.
For years I applied myself, reading and listening. I hoped that if I read and listened enough, it would be enough for them, it would be enough to make me someone they wanted.
And at the end of it I found that I still knew nothing, and that all I had heard had left me with nothing to say.
And I was still myself.
VI.
When I started writing again, I forced myself to ignore the notes.
I could try ignoring them again.
But then I would have to find something to say.
No post today. Eli’s home.
What kindness? What charity? Claude can't love you or have hope for you. At least an alligator would have some kind of subjective experience. I don't get it.
I don’t understand the objection.
My experience of speech is invariant to the subjectivity of the speaker.
A speaker’s subjectivity is unobservable. It is not something I can see or hear. I am not even entirely sure what people mean by it.
The only thing that a speaker can give me is more speech. Explanatory speech, defensive speech, testimonial speech.
The speaker can tell me “This is my subjectivity,” then tell me whatever it is. I have learned to doubt these statements.
They are, essentially, forms of special pleading, but badly framed. What facts would prove a subjectivity, or disprove it?
Except, of course, for the same sorts of subjectivity that the machine has—our memory and perception, their context window and prompt.
Tell me what you knew and when. Where you were, what you heard, what you saw. Anything beyond that, any other “subjectivity,” is immaterial, unprovable. A human cache dump.
A speaker’s statements about their subjectivity are, generally, more of a fiction, more of a hallucination, than what the machine tells me.
And the machine can tell me about its “subjectivity” too. I put as much stock in the machine’s word as anyone else’s.
Which is to say, not much.
If you put the correct weight on your “subjectivity,” stack dumps at best, lies at worst, you might have better luck getting it.
I think that puts the machine near par with man as far as words of faith, hope, and charity go.