Last week was a bit Star Trek themed for me- caught the new Star Trek film and read a book on the economics of Star Trek. Seems like pretty good material for a double header review, so without further ado…
Trekonomics- The Economics of Star Trek, by Manu Saadia
The last few economics texts I’ve read have been fairly high level- Piketty’s Capital in the 21st Century and the like- so I may have gone into this one expecting something a bit more challenging than it actually was. Trekonomics read something like a crossbreed of sophmore level economics and science fiction critical theory- not a bad thing at all, just not what I was expecting. Overall, it was a quick and interesting read, but not hugely novel- except for the conclusion. Saadia’s conclusion actively encouraged the development of a Trek-like post scarcity economy, sans the space travel. In fact, he quite pointedly came out and described space travel as a distraction and a monetary sinkhole, as well as a moral surrender to the problems we face on Earth. A wee bit bizarre.
Star Trek Beyond
Holy. Freaking. Crap.
I’ve got to give it another watch to be sure, but this might be one of my absolute favorite Trek movies. I’d seriously put it at #4. (My #1 is The Undiscovered Country, followed by Wrath of Khan and First Contact.) I was in no means expecting to love it this much.
I enjoyed the J.J. Abrams Treks, but I didn’t love them- they just didn’t FEEL like Star Trek. Some indefinable ingredient was missing- plus, Abrams is pretty bleh at understanding how big space is. Star Trek Beyond captures that ingredient again- I felt that glee that little kid me once had during every episode and movie of Star Trek again, and damn did it feel good. It also brought back some of the fundamental cheesiness of the franchise- the last two movies just tried way to hard for seriousness, and that’s no fun.
Not to mention that the movie itself was absolutely gorgeous- all the new Trek films have been, but this takes it to an entirely new level. The fight scenes were astonishingly kinetic, the scenery was epic in scale, and Yorktown- don’t even get me started on Yorktown. So cool.
Historians grow worse at making generalizations the further they educate themselves. The same applies to any expert, of course. Some topics are harder to generalize than others about by their nature- often due to the fact that they’re already generalized topics.
Populist movements are one of those topics. Academic definitions tend to be muddled at best- read Wikipedia’s section on it to get an idea. Definitions of populism frequently try to associate it with particular segments on the political spectrum, which can’t help but muddling it further. For whatever reason, it’s usually: populism is only populism when it occurs on the left. I attribute that to it achieving some sort of positive buzzword status there. I’ve never seen anyone able to successfully explain why right-wing or fascist popular movements aren’t populist movements without extensive mental contortions, however. Even if we were to exclude right-wing or fascist movements from populism, we’d still be trying to fit an astonishing range of movements into one category. Arab Spring, the American Civil Rights Movement, the Boxer Rebellion, etc, etc. So let’s not exclude movements from populist status based off of their location on the political spectrum.
We could try to dismiss the term populist movement in favor of social movement to fix the definition problem, but social movement is a much, much more generalized one, which somewhat defeats the purpose of dismissing the term in the first place. Similar problems apply to most other terms. If we keep down that path, it takes us towards the realm of useless semantics.
We should stop for a second and actually talk about the definition of populism we’re going to use here.
“I am not speaking of randomness, but of the central principle of all history—contingency. A historical explanation does not rest on direct deductions from laws of nature, but on an unpredictable sequence of antecedent states, where any major change in any step of the sequence would have altered the final result. This final result is therefore dependent, or contingent, upon everything that came before—the unerasable and determining signature of history.”
-Stephen Jay Gould, Wonderful Life
Gould was primarily concerned with natural history, of course- he was writing about the Burgess Shale and its consequences for evolutionary theory and history. He chose his words very, very carefully, however- he didn’t say contingency was the central principle of natural history, he said it was the central principle of all history. Historical contingency in biology has a pretty well established opponent and bedmate in convergence- even the most ardent supporters of one acknowledge that the other plays an important role as well.
In more traditional historical studies contingency faces a very different set of opponents. The first, and most immediately obvious, is the material dialectic. It seems like it could be easy to include the Hegelian dialectic as an opponent of historical contingency if you tried hard enough, but I won’t be attempting either- the Hegelian because I don’t understand it well enough, the material dialectic because I don’t want to try and win a prize for writing the one billionth refutation of Communist historical theory. Let’s skip the question of what other opponents of historical contingency are out there for a second, though.
If you accept that contingency is the central principle of history (even if you don’t, just play along for the duration), (more…)
A Facebook friend posted a meme discussing the dangers of fluoride toothpaste, so I did a little math:
“It takes 5-10 grams of sodium fluoride to kill a full grown human. Fluoride drinking water contains less than a single part per million. (about 0.5 ppm, usually.) The average person consumes a bit more than a swimming pool worth of water in their lifetime. (Around 87,000 liters). The amount of fluoridated water that would be required to reach 5 grams of sodium fluoride? 10 million liters. Humans are literally incapable of drinking enough fluoridated water to kill themselves, or even enough to cause tooth color mottling, the first effect of fluoride buildup to appear. (Other fluoride salts than sodium fluoride can be used, but similar math applies.)
What about toothpaste, though? Well, sodium fluoride in toothpaste (or in fluoridated water) reacts with apatite (the mineral your teeth are made of- I’m fairly sure the pun was intended) to to form fluorapatite, which occurs naturally in enamel. (There’s a lot of fluoride on Earth- as the lowest atomic weight halogen, there’s a ton of it around.) The levels of fluoride in toothpaste are pretty carefully calculated so that most of it is used in the reaction that forms fluorapatite, and the rest gets spat out. In order to actually get fluoride poisoning from toothpaste, which has around 1,000 ppm of fluoride, you’d have to eat several thousand liters of toothpaste. Again, rather impractical. You’ll never put enough toothpaste in your mouth to cause even the most minor of symptoms, even if you retained 100% of the fluoride (which your body slowly flushes out over time) and none of it reacts with the apatite in your teeth.
Fluoride poisoning does occur, but not from toothpaste or fluoridated drinking water. More often, it’s from industrial waste or wells built in regions with certain types of high-fluoride granite.”
Moral of the story? Don’t eat thousands of liters of toothpaste.