Checksum Arcanius

Sometime earlier this week, Dan suggested that we get tickets to Friday’s Mariners game, since he predicted that Ichiro would break the record that day. So I agreed, and when Ichiro didn’t break the record the game before, Dan went ahead and purchased the best tickets available: 300 level, 25h row, seats 9 and 10. And yes, the 25th row IS the last row. Seats 9 and 10 also happen to be the hardest to get to in the row. And we were late, because the will call line people don’t understand last name eltter frequency. So, after hustling up the many stairs to the 300 level, Texas having finished batting, we went into the wrong section just to make sure we would see the hit if it happened.

And, of course, it did happen. Hit number 257 was a classic Ichiro, chopped just over the third baseman’s head. Fireworks went off and the crowd roared. We retreated and made our way to the proper section. Unfortunately, the usher didn’t direct us correectly, and we ended up in the wrong seats again. We watched the next inning like that, then the real seatholders came, so we had to go find our real seats again.

And we didn’t have to wait long. When Ichiro came up to bat, the crowd stood. He sliced off his obligatory fouls, then put the ball straight down the middle. Everyone knew what had just happened. Nobody sat down for at least five miutes. The Mariners emerged from the dugout to greet Ichiro. We clapped. And cheered. And clapped some more. Fireworks, rare at Safeco, were in abundance. Nifty preprepared graphics lit the outfield screens. And for all the melodrama, the best part was Ichiro’s mild, unassuming acceptance of the praise for a job well done, and then he got back to business, helping the Mariners go on to get the win.

But most impressive of all, to me, was the realization that I had when it happened; a realization which has come to me only rarely throughout my life: that these moments are the ones that make the human condition worthwhile. The pain and suffering, bad politics and worse policies, high taxes to pay for stadiums and to waste on social programs – all of these things don’t really matter in the long run. Overcoming them together – as an amazing player and his fanatics did on Friday – makes it all seem ok for the time being.

In response to Erik’s response to my response to his response to my response to an article in the American Spectator…
Erik states, “If the individuals are motivated to do the right thing withen the company it will as well.”

Wrong.

I think its one of the most wonderful and disturbing things about the advent of modern economics. The aggregate is often not the sum of its parts. Take, for example, this most oft-quoted phrase from Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations: “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we can expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest.” This is the essence of the “invisible hand” that turns self interst into the best option for the group as a whole. Its not immediately obvious (it tok until 1776 to figure it out, after all), but the general interst being served by everyone looking out for him or herself is the actual effect.

The same thing goes for groups founded in the name of the “public interest.” Even if every person in the group is working towards some greater ideal, the result is quite often less than stellar. Countless socialist regimes, and the incredible failure of social programs in this country as well should testify to that.

The real problem here is that most people in this world don’t understand economics because the teacher’s union (that “public interst” group) knows that a society well-versed in economics would be detremental to their monopoly over education in this country. Cynicism is well in order. Thank you very much.

Erik, of Freedomdown.net asks:
“Is it really that hard to imagine that people sometimes just do things because they are the right thing to do?”

And I respond (it was a comment, but it got way too long):

No, it is not hard to believe that, because this is often why people do things. I made no claim to the contrary. What I do believe is that, when you take the aggregate of what the CIA does, it is not “the right thing.” So where does this behavior arise from, when there are, no doubt, many people in that organization trying to do the right thing – trying to protect us from terrorism; trying to save lives; trying to make the world a better place – not because it is neccesarily in their immediate self interest, but because it is the right thing to do?

And the answer I always arrive at is that there is another motivation that drives the organization as a whole that is different than what drives most individuals. And, from the way I understand incentives, the thing that makes successful government bureacracies is far different than what makes a successful corporation (ie, pleasing the customers). The primary driving incentive for government bureacracies – and this is no fault of their own; it is an effect of the system – is to increase their size and stature in the system. No other goal, as an organization serves everyone in the organization. Individuals may be strongly motivated to do the right thing, but the organization rarely is. And from the track record of the CIA, I would doubt that it has, as an organization, always had the best motivations.

Conprendez-vous?

Some people apologize too much. When I say “Some people”, I mean people like Bobby and Angela. Bobby is funny, because when I mention that he really doesn’t need to apologize so much, he apologizes for apologizing so much. Angela, well, she just pretends to apologize for apologizing too much, because she knows I find it funny when Bobby does it, because, well, I told her so.

In other news, Austin made a pretty good apology at each of the last TRC leadership meetings, but his lack of action after each one is disconcerting. Maybe his should therefore be termed “under apologies” or “premature apologies”, because, for goodness’ sake, finish screwing off before you spend the energy apologizing. Actually, I don’t know if I mean that last sentence, but it was fun to write, and for that I make no apology.