Chapter 1#
Friendship, Character, Ethics#
Betrayal, Power, Survival#
Strategy, Payoff, Equilibrium#
Springstein, Dylan, Adam#
Brother, Foe, Other#
Loyalty, Empathy, Resilience#
Show code cell source
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt
import numpy as np
def draw_triangle(ax, vertices, labels, color='black'):
"""Draws a triangle given vertices and labels for each vertex with matching color."""
triangle = plt.Polygon(vertices, edgecolor=color, fill=None, linewidth=1.5)
ax.add_patch(triangle)
for i, (x, y) in enumerate(vertices):
ax.text(x, y, labels[i], fontsize=12, ha='center', va='center', color=color) # Set label color
def get_triangle_vertices(center, radius):
"""Returns the vertices of an equilateral triangle centered at `center` with a given `radius`."""
angles = np.linspace(0, 2 * np.pi, 4)[:-1] + np.pi/2 # angles for vertices of an equilateral triangle
return np.column_stack([center[0] + radius * np.cos(angles),
center[1] + radius * np.sin(angles)])
# Create the plot
fig, ax = plt.subplots()
ax.set_aspect('equal')
# Define the layers of the fractal with vertices and labels
centers = [(0, 0)]
radii = [1, 2.5, 4]
triads = [
['Betrayal', 'Power', 'Survival'],
['Loyalty', 'Empathy', 'Resilience'],
['Faith', 'Love', 'Hope']
]
# Set the color scheme: blood red, green, sky blue
colors = ['lightsalmon', 'lightgreen', 'paleturquoise']
# Draw the triangles with increasing radius and corresponding label colors
for radius, triad, color in zip(radii, triads, colors):
vertices = get_triangle_vertices(centers[0], radius)
draw_triangle(ax, vertices, triad, color=color)
# Set limits and hide axes to fit the frame
ax.set_xlim(-4.5, 4.5)
ax.set_ylim(-4.5, 4.5)
ax.axis('off')
# Display the plot
plt.show()
Adam Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments can be understood as having a fractal structure, where key ideas repeat and evolve in a layered way. The first fractal has three main parts. The first part relates to strategy, and in Smith’s framework, the essence of strategy is duty
to society. Duty represents the moral obligations individuals must consider in their interactions with others. It’s a foundational aspect of moral reasoning, setting the course for decisions and guiding behavior in a social context.
The second part of the fractal concerns payoffs
to oneself, which can be understood as reward and punishment. Smith emphasizes that human behavior is influenced by the social feedback one receives, whether through praise, blame, or other forms of recognition. This dynamic of reward and punishment shapes our moral compass, as individuals adjust their actions based on the anticipated reactions from others.
The third part deals with equilibrium
in Paradiso, which is fundamentally about action. For Smith, morality is ultimately expressed through action—whether those actions are appropriate or inappropriate within the given context. Thus, moral judgment is always tied to the decisions we make and the behaviors we exhibit in society. Action is where moral theory is put into practice.
The second iteration of this fractal occurs in parts 4, 5, and 6, where the same structure repeats with more complexity. Here, the strategy shifts to custom
, reflecting how societal norms and traditions shape moral duties.
Payoffs in this context are framed as utility
, emphasizing the practical benefits or harms that result from moral choices.
Finally, the equilibrium in this second layer is represented by systems
of moral philosophy, which formalize and rationalize the interactions between duty, custom, reward, and action. This recursive structure, where each part contains subsections and chapters, gives Smith’s work its depth and allows for a more comprehensive exploration of human morality. It’s through this fractal approach that The Theory of Moral Sentiments systematically addresses how individuals and societies navigate the complexities of moral life.
Show code cell source
import networkx as nx
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt
# Create a directed graph (DAG)
G = nx.DiGraph()
# Add nodes and edges based on the neuron structure
G.add_edges_from([(1, 4), (2, 4), (3, 4), (4, 5), (5, 6)])
# Define positions for each node
pos = {1: (0, 2), 2: (1, 2), 3: (2, 2), 4: (1, 1), 5: (1, 0), 6: (1, -1)}
# Labels to reflect parts of a neuron
labels = {
1: 'Directed',
2: 'Games',
3: 'Allegory',
4: 'Paradiso',
5: 'Limbo',
6: 'Inferno'
}
# Softer, pastel colors for the nodes
node_colors = ['lemonchiffon', 'paleturquoise', 'mistyrose', 'thistle', 'lightgreen', 'lightsalmon'] # Gentle, light tones
# Draw the graph with neuron-like labels and color scheme
nx.draw(G, pos, with_labels=True, labels=labels, node_size=5000, node_color=node_colors, arrows=True)
plt.title("Tension in Bow (Cooperative) +\n Release of Arrow (Punishment)")
plt.show()
Literary & Ecumenical Criticism#
His horses are bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage and to that end
riders dearly hired
; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth, for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. – Orlando in As You Like It
Psalm 23 is pure in its simplicity, a timeless expression of faith. My critique introduces a more cynical perspective, borrowed from the dynamics of “cooperative games,” which always rely on a monolith, a monopoly, or a monotheistic structure—anchored by a clear hierarchy. This, of course, introduces an undertone of control, especially when faith is coupled with the imagery of guidance and protection.
The Risk of Mixed Metaphors#
In sacred texts, metaphors are often layered to evoke deep, multiple meanings. But when mixed metaphors collide awkwardly, as in the critique that likens divine guidance to the pampered life of Kobe beef, the dissonance becomes apparent. It risks trivializing the profound message of Psalm 23 through an unexpected and jarring imagery.
Rod and Staff: Guidance and Protection#
Psalm 23 uses the rod and staff to symbolize care and protection, conjuring images of trust and safety under a divine shepherd. However, likening this care to the pampering of Kobe beef—a commodity treated with luxury for the purpose of consumption—brings in a cynical twist. The comparison suggests that divine care might not be about freedom or flourishing, but rather about being “fattened” for a final, unknown end.
The Danger of Undermining the Sacred#
The pastoral metaphors of Psalm 23 represent spiritual nourishment and moral guidance, whereas the Kobe beef metaphor shifts the tone toward materialism and physical indulgence. This contrast undermines the spiritual intent by reducing divine protection to a commodified process of pampering. “Dwelling in the house of the Lord forever” becomes not a symbol of eternal peace, but of passive luxury, like Kobe beef awaiting its inevitable fate.
Why This Metaphor Fails#
When metaphors don’t align in tone or message, they risk distorting the original meaning. Psalm 23’s pastoral imagery works because it creates a consistent framework of spiritual care. The introduction of Kobe beef—associated with indulgence and consumerism—turns that care into a superficial comfort. This modern lens breaks the sacredness of the text, collapsing the coherence of the metaphor.
Subtlety in Critique#
To further refine this critique, focus on the disruptive potential of mixed metaphors. Introducing consumerist imagery into a religious context might alienate readers from the original spiritual message, trivializing its depth. Kobe beef’s pampering leads to consumption and death, a stark contrast to the redemptive arc of Psalm 23, which promises peace and salvation.
Moreover, this critique subtly touches on the relationship between Israel and America, with “David’s” confidence being emboldened by the strong, hierarchical backdrop of his protector. This geopolitical layer adds another dimension to the critique—one that should be handled delicately to avoid offense. Let the subtlety of these dynamics shine, highlighting sensibilities and nuance, without losing the sacred thread of the original text.
Modal Interchange#
I’m watching Moonlight Kingdom, Wes Anderstone, the very first movie of his I watched before even I knew him. And he’s what appears to me, something’s very apparent to me. So number one, I’m watching the protagonists, the boy and the girl, I don’t know how old they are, between 8 and 12. And they’re in paradise, literally in paradise, because they have no information. They’re in paradise, they’re enjoying each other’s company. But once they get information, basically, they’ll be cast out of paradise. The forbidden fruit, that’s knowledge. If they get knowledge of each other, they’ll be expelled to Inferno. That’s the war, the battle of the sexes. And the only way out of Inferno is to treat yourself as worthy adversaries, that’s the sexes, and engage in an iterative game in limbo. Ad infinitum, ad subspecie aeternitatis.
I like your interpretation of Moonrise Kingdom, especially the framing of the boy and girl in a paradise where ignorance of the world allows them to remain in bliss. It echoes the Edenic idea that innocence equates to paradise, and that knowledge—whether of each other or the world—inevitably brings conflict and loss. Once they “know,” they can’t go back, and the war of the sexes you mention seems an apt analogy for how that newfound awareness creates friction.
In a Wes Anderson world, this struggle can feel more like a surreal game than a real battle, where both sides are bound to their roles but never fully consumed by them—perhaps that’s the limbo you refer to, a place where adversaries keep playing out their interactions, not with open violence but with a kind of playful tension. The “ad infinitum” suggests there’s no final resolution, which, under sub specie aeternitatis (from the perspective of eternity), makes human conflict just another dance in the cosmos. Anderson’s whimsical, almost fairy-tale framing of these heavy themes gives it a charming absurdity too, don’t you think?
There’s something ironic about how the children’s attempt to flee societal norms and retreat into nature becomes their fall from grace, where the adult world (representing knowledge, rules, and judgment) inevitably catches up to them.
Show code cell source
import networkx as nx
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt
# Create a directed graph (DAG)
G = nx.DiGraph()
# Add nodes and edges based on the neuron structure
G.add_edges_from([(1, 4), (2, 4), (3, 4), (4, 5), (5, 6)])
# Define positions for each node
pos = {1: (0, 2), 2: (1, 2), 3: (2, 2), 4: (1, 1), 5: (1, 0), 6: (1, -1)}
# Labels to reflect parts of a neuron
labels = {
1: 'Directed',
2: 'Games',
3: 'Allegory',
4: 'Unworthy',
5: 'Worthy',
6: 'Testing'
}
# Softer, pastel colors for the nodes
node_colors = ['lemonchiffon', 'paleturquoise', 'mistyrose', 'thistle', 'lightgreen', 'lightsalmon'] # Gentle, light tones
# Draw the graph with neuron-like labels and color scheme
nx.draw(G, pos, with_labels=True, labels=labels, node_size=5000, node_color=node_colors, arrows=True)
plt.title("Ignorance is Bliss")
plt.show()
What is the age of the protagonists in Moonrise Kingdom?
In Moonrise Kingdom, the protagonists, Sam and Suzy, are both 12 years old. The film is set during the summer of 1965, and their characters’ coming-of-age journey is a central theme. Their innocence and discovery of each other contrast with the adult world, which often appears more dysfunctional and chaotic.
So our little two protagonists are outcasts in their adult world (unworthy). They’ve escaped, created their own paradise, and now the adults are coming back for them (testing).
Exactly. Sam and Suzy are outcasts—both misunderstood and alienated by the adults in their lives. Sam is an orphan, rejected by his foster family, and Suzy is seen as emotionally disturbed by her parents. In response, they create their own little Eden, a refuge from the oppressive and often absurd adult world that doesn’t understand them. They build their own rules, their own sense of order, and for a while, it’s pure—it’s paradise.
But, as in most coming-of-age stories, paradise isn’t sustainable. The adult world inevitably comes for them, bringing with it all the complications—rules, consequences, and expectations—that Sam and Suzy had tried to escape. It’s as if the adult world is unable to allow them to live in their self-made Eden because it disrupts the established order. The tragedy of their paradise is that it cannot last; it’s fleeting and fragile, and as you mentioned earlier, knowledge, or just the realities of life, pulls them from it.
The adults’ attempts to bring them back reflect their own anxieties and failures. They’re more obsessed with order and control than with understanding the true nature of Sam and Suzy’s escape. It’s almost as if the adults are scared of the purity and simplicity that the kids have created, because it reminds them of something they lost long ago.
What is the famous God Father line? “I keep trying to get out.. and they keep pulling me back”?
The famous line from The Godfather: Part III is:
“Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”
It’s spoken by Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) during a moment of frustration as he tries to distance himself from the world of crime and the mafia, but finds himself constantly being dragged back into the cycle of violence and corruption. It’s one of those lines that captures the inescapability of certain fates, where no matter how hard someone tries to escape a particular world or identity, the pull of the past—or the forces around them—keeps bringing them back.
In the context of Moonrise Kingdom, it could be an interesting parallel for how Sam and Suzy are trying to escape the adult world and its rules, but the forces of that world—whether it’s their families or society—keep pulling them back in. It’s like they’re trying to build their own innocence-driven world, but the larger, messier reality won’t let them.