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What Eliezer Yudkowsky has done so entertainingly in Methods of Rationality (which I first wrote about last month) is to respectfully poke fun at J.K Rowling’s writing. I didn’t get this at first because I found her writing a bit annoying in the first book and didn’t get very far through it, so I haven’t read the Harry Potter books, although I have seen the movies.

But early on I suspected what Yudkowsky was up to. An early clue was a conversation in chapter 7 about Quidditch:

“So let me get this straight,” Harry said as it seemed that Ron’s explanation (with associated hand gestures) was winding down. “Catching the Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points?”

“Yeah -”

“How many ten-point goals does one side usually score not counting the Snitch?”

“Um, maybe fifteen or twenty in professional games -”

“That’s just wrong. That violates every possible rule of game design. Look, the rest of this game sounds like it might make sense, sort of, for a sport I mean, but you’re basically saying that catching the Snitch overwhelms almost any ordinary point spread. The two Seekers are up there flying around looking for the Snitch and usually not interacting with anyone else, spotting the Snitch first is going to be mostly luck -”

“It’s not luck!” protested Ron. “You’ve got to keep your eyes moving in the right pattern -”

“That’s not interactive, there’s no back-and-forth with the other player and how much fun is it to watch someone incredibly good at moving their eyes? And then whichever Seeker gets lucky swoops in and grabs the Snitch and makes everyone else’s work moot. It’s like someone took a real game and grafted on this pointless extra position just so that you could be the Most Important Player without needing to really get involved or learn the rest of it. Who was the first Seeker, the King’s idiot son who wanted to play Quidditch but couldn’t understand the rules?” Actually, now that Harry thought about it, that seemed like a surprisingly good hypothesis. Put him on a broomstick and tell him to catch the shiny thing…

Ron’s face pulled into a scowl. “If you don’t like Quidditch, you don’t have to make fun of it!”

“If you can’t criticize, you can’t optimize. I’m suggesting how to improve the game. And it’s very simple. Get rid of the Snitch.”

In other words, Rowling’s game design is iffy, and Yudkowsky is calling her on it, via his Harry.

The same thing was blatantly going on in chapter 18, when Harry meets Snape. So much so , that I had to compare that scene with the equivalent in the original. Here’s the original Rowling scene, emphasis mine:

‘You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,’ he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. ‘As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.’

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving she wasn’t a dunderhead.

‘Potter!’ said Snape suddenly. ‘What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione’s hand had shot into the air.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Harry.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

‘Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything.’

The scene continues with Snape asking Harry more such questions, and him not knowing the answer. Now, here is Yudkowsky’s version of the same scene, into which I will interject:

“You are here,” Severus said in a quiet voice which the students at back strained to hear, “to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins,” this in a rather caressing, gloating tone, “bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses,” this was just getting creepier and creepier. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren’t as great a pack of fools as I usually have to teach.”

This is almost word for word, except that Yudkowsky is more realistic about the loudness of a whisper and points out how creepy Snape is, and thus hints at his unsuitability as a teacher, which later becomes the point.

Severus somehow seemed to notice the look of skepticism on Harry’s face, or at least his eyes suddenly jumped to where Harry was sitting.

“Potter!” snapped the Potions professor. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry blinked. “Was that in Magical Drafts and Potions?” he said. “I just finished reading it, and I don’t remember anything which used wormwood -”

Hermione’s hand went up and Harry shot her a glare which caused her to raise her hand even higher.

“Tut, tut,” Severus said silkily. “Fame clearly isn’t everything.”

“Really?” Harry said. “But you just told us you’d teach us how to bottle fame. Say, how does that work, exactly? You drink it and turn into a celebrity?”

This is a very good point! Rowling lazily has Snape talking about bottling fame without thinking about what that might mean, then has him belittle the concept of fame just a few lines later. It’s sloppy, and Yudkowsky calls her on it via his Harry. It’s beautiful. And it continues:

“Let’s try again,” said Severus. “Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“That’s not in the textbook either,” Harry said, “but in one Muggle book I read that a trichinobezoar is a mass of solidified hair found in a human stomach, and Muggles used to believe it would cure any poison -”

“Wrong,” Severus said. “A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, it is not made of hair, and it will cure most poisons but not all.”

“I didn’t say it would, I said that was what I read in one Muggle book -”

“No one here is interested in your pathetic Muggle books. Final try. What is the difference, Potter, between monksblood and wolfsbane?”

That did it.

“You know,” Harry said icily, “in one of my quite fascinating Muggle books, they describe a study in which people managed to make themselves look very smart by asking questions about random facts that only they knew. Apparently the onlookers only noticed that the askers knew and the answerers didn’t, and failed to adjust for the unfairness of the underlying game. So, Professor, can you tell me how many electrons are in the outermost orbital of a carbon atom?”

Which is awesome. Rowling’s Harry is a bit of a dunderhead. He just doesn’t know the answers. Yudkowsky’s Harry sees through Snape’s bullying.

In the Rowling version, Snape deducts points from Harry for being cheeky when he suggests that Hermione might know the answer. In the Yudkowsky version, he deducts ten points for Harry’s attempts at reasoning with him, and the situation escalates, with Harry ultimately threatening to leave the school unless Snape is fired for his bullying and abuse of students.

Without reading the rest of Rowling’s book I can’t be sure, but I have the feeling that Rowling has written Snape, at least in the first book, as an unsympathetic bully, and that her Harry just puts up with it. Perhaps her Snape is just a cartoon bad guy, and she hasn’t thought through the consequences. Whereas Yudkowsky knows exactly what the consequences of Snape’s actions should be and has his Harry explicitly treat him as he deserves to be treated.

In any case, Methods of Rationality is full of the right kinds of questions. Where Rowling briefly describes transfiguration, Yudkowsky thinks through the consequences: which are that if you turn a rock into a liquid and then drink it, it will kill you when it turns back into a rock.

And I’m not even half way through it, yet…

Incidentally, there’s a lot of stuff in Methods of Rationality about equality between adults and children. Yudkowsky’s Harry does not stand for situations in which children are treated as subordinates or children have to abide by different rules than adults. Again, I don’t know whether this is a dig at the way Rowling has written her story, or just a separate point Yudkowsky wants to make. There’s probably a more serious post I (or an education blogger) could make about that under the education category. Here’s a sample:

“This is not a request, Mr. Potter,” the Headmaster said. The full, entire force of the wizard’s gaze was turned on the boy. “This is your punishme-”

[...]

Harry’s visage grew even colder. “You mistake me, Headmaster, if you think that this is a joke. This is not a request. This is your punishment.”

“Mr. Potter -” Minerva said. She didn’t even know what she was going to say. She simply couldn’t let that go by.

Harry made a shushing gesture at her and continued to speak to Dumbledore. “And if that seems impolite to you,” Harry said, his voice now a little less hard, “it seemed no less impolite when you said it to me. You would not say such a thing to anyone who you considered a real human being instead of a subordinate child, and I will treat you with just the same courtesy as you treat me -”

NickM has had a go. Commenter Robert E. Phelan sums it up on a Bishop Hill post like this:

We’ve already had the movie. It’s called “Avatar”, one of the all-time success stories of the movie industry. It’s got a great plot, loveable heroes, subtle villians and graphics that made me cringe (I’ve got a THING about heights, you need to understand)… but it is also an evil work of propaganda catering to the Green agenda. It depicts a world that may actually be sentient (Gaia, anyone? James Lovelock?) with an indigeneous, sentient species that not only lives in harmony with nature but regards their prey as brothers who should be prayed for and thanked after killing them (the noble American Indian… see Dances with Wolves or Last of the Mohicans) and who are being dispossesed by evil capitalist, technologically advanced, militaristict humans who are destroying their own world and the Pandora Garden of Eden as well. The hero receives redemption by discarding his humanity.

All that is true enough. But I went to see the film anyway. Yes, it’s an appalling allegory in which we’re expected to believe that evil capitalists will kill nice aliens to make a quick buck. There are too many films in which the capitalists are bad guys; not enough in which the government are. Yes, the aliens are in harmony with nature and energy and hug trees.

But it’s science fiction, and plenty of this stuff makes science fiction sense. The aliens are not religiously making up nonsense about spirits and vague energy, the trees really do form a neural network, the planet really is sentient and really can store the memories of ancestors. That’s quite a good science fiction idea for a blockbuster movie. And there are some more, such as the avatars themselves, the aliens’ ability to connect their brains to flying dragon-like creatures and go for a ride, and the transfer of minds between bodies — something I’d quite like people to get used to the idea of in my lifetime…

It’s great to see an alien world brought to life in high definition 3D. The 3D is more than a gimmick, here. In one scene near the start our hero wakes up in a long chamber in freefall. We are treated to the disorienting way that there is no fixed up and down in zero gravity — it depends on your perspective. The aliens are 12 feet tall. In scenes from their perspective, humans look like dwarfs. In scenes from the humans’ perspective, aliens look like giants. The spaceships and giant earth-moving vehicles look cool. The mech suits look even better than they did in Aliens. All the machinery has a believable logic to it.

I did struggle with the floating mountains. Low density coral with pockets of helium inside, perhaps?

If you can supress the urge to make everything into a metaphor, there is a lot of enjoyment to be had from this film. Go and see it in 3D while you can.

Update: Michael Jennings sends me a link to an even better defense of Avatar. David R. Henderson argues that it is a defense of capitalism and property rights, and an attack on eminent domain.

In the movie Surrogates, everyone stays at home and connects their brain to a computer. The computer connects to a lifelike android, and the effect is that everyone can live through their androids, called surrogates, and do whatever they want with perfect, beautiful, superhuman bodies without fear of injury.

It’s an intriguing concept, great science fiction, and a pretty slick movie with Bruce Willis and explosions and stunts.

There are a few things wrong with it. The first thing that struck me was that if you had the technology to connect your brain up with a surrogate android, you don’t really need the android. You could connect your brain to a simulation instead. Much less messy and more possibilities that way. But it would have been a different movie.

The next thing that bothered me was that the surrogates themselves were somewhat boring. Sure, they looked like eternally youthful beautiful people, and one ugly fat guy went around using a pretty female surrogate, but where were the fantastical creatures and surrogates with four arms or wheels or wings? Why the restriction on one surrogate per person? I suppose you can only fit so many ideas into one movie.

The real problem with the movie was the conciet that either *everyone* has to use surrogates or *no-one*. So we have the Bruce Willis character who yearns to spend time in his real body but can’t because it’s not really socially acceptable. And we have the anti-surrogate movement who might well be sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that they want to force everyone else into their way of life, too.

Which brings me to the final heroic act by the Bruce Willis character — and this is a bit of a spoiler — who when presented with the opportunity to destroy all the surrogates at the push of a button selfishly pushes the button because he thinks it would help his wife. It’s an act of gross vandalism, but afterwards is a heart-warming scene in which all the people disconnect from their computers, go outside and see the light. The underlying message is: using too much technology makes us inhuman. Never mind the fact that it might be mostly useful, or fun. Never mind that Bruce Willis has destroyed the surrogates of infirm and disabled people who really need them, along with destroying the toys of people who want them and bought and paid for them.

I think this kind of technology would be great. Sign me up.

Just got back from seeing the movie G-Force, which is about talking guinea pigs who are trained to be spies. No time to write in complete sentences:

• The most convincing CGI mixed with live-action I’ve seen; the lighting and textures looked just right.
• For a kids’ film, not too much cringeworthy slapstick. The visual gags tended to be physics jokes, like what happens when two guinea pigs are running inside a tyre and the fat one trips.
• The inevitable sappy moral lesson is at least: “you can achieve things through learning and don’t need to be genetically superior”. This is better than “animals are people too”, “profit is evil” or “save the planet”.
• There are some pretty cool and believable gadgets and gizmos. the motorised hamster wheel vehicle has heads up displays including a live feed from a camera mounted on a fly, all used to good effect.
• There is a very funny line in homage to Die Hard, just for the grown-ups.
• The heroes solve problems with ingenuity rather than luck. In fact there were surprisingly few “I can’t believe that” moments, given the subject matter. An example is the use of a radio controlled car and its controller as transport.
• The plot is quite intelligent and there is a nice twist.
• I saw it in 3D, which I’d recommend as it’s quite subtly done. There are some very cool tracking shots.

Ross Kemp is hunting pirates in Somalia on Sky 1. He’s with a Royal Navy frigate. They’ve spotted a suspicious looking dhow towing a skiff. Boats are sent out with marines to investigate. There are a lot of people on the dhow. A man holds up a fish to say he’s just a fisherman, but the marines think it’s a boat “smuggling” people out of Somalia.

The frigate doesn’t have much autonomy. It has to radio naval command in London to get permission to board. That permission isn’t granted so the dhow is sent on its way.

If I was out in my boat and guys turned up with machine guns and started asking me questions I wouldn’t be too impressed. The marines say if they find weapons that means they’ve found pirates. Maybe, but what about weapons for self defence?

I like the way Ross Kemp talks. He’s no-nonsense and doesn’t over dramatise things.

One sailor says, “I’ve got a family to feed but I don’t go around pointing guns at people… Well… I do.”

A merchant ship has radioed the frigate complaing that speed boats are chasing it. This is more like it. A helicopter is sent out to investigate. It’s a Merlin with two marines on board who can shoot out the doors. An American ship in the area has also dispatched a
helicopter. Who will get there first? The merchant ship has reported that the speedboats have run away. The American helicopter gets there first and says there is no more threat.

Ross Kemp laments that the gulf is large, making pirates hard to get to in time. At a briefing, an officer explains that pirates have started operating from motherships, allowing them to loiter at sea and operate farther from shore. It’s believed that they are supported by clans on shore who provide logistical support: they seem more organised than just bands of opportunists.

News comes in that a ship called Saldhana has been pirated. There has been no distress call but it has suddenly changed course. On the radio, the Soldhana captain says he and his 22 crew are being held hostage. Out goes the helicopter, but the pirates say to stay away, and the Frigate captain says he can’t just go and board out of fear for the safety of the crew.

The helicopter is sent back. The helicopter crew is “fucking pissed off”. Saldhana sails right past the frigate, which can do nothing.

It seems as if the Navy can only act if they catch the pirates red handed. No wonder they have to go out hassling fishing boats. I’m not sure a Navy frigate can be very effective.

Private armed security boats to escort merchant ships would be a better solution. I wonder why this does not happen more than it does.

A skiff is found floating nearby with a snapped rope – it must have belonged to the pirates and broken away from the Saldhana. It contains lots of fuel, an RPG, cash, clothes, food and some Arsenal merchandise. The Navy uses it for target practice. The minigun is pretty impressive.

Next week, Ross goes to interview pirates in Nigeria.

Chrissie Hynde was on Jools Holland being interviewed. He asked her why her new album was called “Break Up the Concrete”. She mumbled something about encouraging people to go out and smash up the roads. Jools joked, “oh, you’re not complaining about the terrible state of repair, then?” No, quite the opposite, I think they’re in far too good a state of repair.

I think if you get to your 50s and you still haven’t figured out that roads improve people’s lives, well, there’s something a little pathetic about it.

She went on to complain that people should be less ambitious; there’s far too much emphasis on success, that it was okay to just be and do nothing. Fair enough, if that’s what you want. Then she added, “I’m not talking about benefit cheats, god bless them, we need you.” So not really making much sense then. Trying too hard to be cool, perhaps.

I went to see the new Star Trek movie on Wednesday, and rather enjoyed it. I tried not to find out too much about it beforehand, so I was mainly worried about whether the technology would look more advanced than in TNG despite the film being set before it, and about whether Spock would look too much like Sylar.

On the first count, the look was about right, although TNG is indeed looking a bit dated. And the actor who played spock must be very good because although in Heroes Sylar is terrifying, I did not have any problem seeing Spock as Spock.

There were only a few problems, and while I enjoyed the movie, listing its problems is part of the fun. Scotty didn’t work well for me because he just seemed like Simon Pegg with a funny accent. The plot gets sillier the more you think about it, so it’s best not to. The astronomy is all wrong, or at least distances and travel times aren’t conveyed properly. Space should be made to seem ****HUUUGE****, and yet the Enterprise and even shuttles zip around from planet to planet no problem. Black holes and supernovae don’t seem quite right, either.

I came away feeling like the way in which the franchise was “rebooted” was a bit of a cheap cheat, but having read Eric Raymond’s review I can see why it was done and that it was necessary. So hopefully we will get a whole new series of movies. A TV series would be best but I don’t expect one.

By the way, some more discussion of Star Trek economics and politics over at Counting Cats and in the Samizdata comments, including one by pa annoyed which says a lot of what I was trying (badly) to say last time I wrote about it. I think I have a good post about economics of high technology in me and it might appear here soon…