LJ Idol Season 10, Week 9: "Trolley Problem"
The classic trolley problem, in ethics, asks whether an action that causes harm is preferable to an inaction that causes more harm. While useful as a thought experiment, I have issues with it; namely, that the problem has almost no relevance to real life--or even to the artificial life we sometimes construct for ourselves.
I can demonstrate my point with a series of follow-up questions: What if you didn't know how many people were on the second track--or even if there were any at all? What if the switch isn't 100% guaranteed to actually affect the path of the trolley? What if there's a chance that the switch might cause the trolley to derail? What if the passengers on the trolley are injured by the sudden switch? What if someone else switches the tracks back after you've left?
Confused yet? Not sure what to do? Welcome to the life of a gamesman.
Most good board and card games (poker being the most popular example, and Scrabble being the one I am most familiar with) blend chance and skill in various ways. The element of chance prevents knowing for certain, in the vast majority of situations, what the correct decision actually is. One can make estimates as to the probability of events occuring, and with skill, those estimates become more and more accurate. However, humans can't generally come up with a precise solution in the time allotted to them, and even if they could, the random factor sometimes means that the correct decision will have a negative outcome. And as Sartre famously noted about soccer, "everything is complicated by the presence of an opponent."
The key to success in these endeavors is to recognize that, in a weird way, the results don't really matter. We, as humans, are trained to look for patterns, and if a decision leads to a positive outcome, we are tempted to make that decision again even if the outcome was merely a result of chance. Conversely, if the right move leads to a bad outcome, we shy away from it when the situation recurs because our brains remember getting burned the last time. I often tell people I'm teaching Scrabble, "Just because it didn't work doesn't make it the wrong play, and just because it did work doesn't make it the right play."
Making the transition from being results-oriented to process-oriented (that is, focusing on how to make the decision then letting the chips fall where they may) is not easy. I still struggle with it, especially when I know that I'm making the right decisions and going through a long stretch where the results fall against me. However, it often turns out that my decisions were less right than I'd realized, and there's still much to be learned.
Fortunately, as far as I'm aware, nobody's been tied to a railroad track because of a game of Scrabble.
I can demonstrate my point with a series of follow-up questions: What if you didn't know how many people were on the second track--or even if there were any at all? What if the switch isn't 100% guaranteed to actually affect the path of the trolley? What if there's a chance that the switch might cause the trolley to derail? What if the passengers on the trolley are injured by the sudden switch? What if someone else switches the tracks back after you've left?
Confused yet? Not sure what to do? Welcome to the life of a gamesman.
Most good board and card games (poker being the most popular example, and Scrabble being the one I am most familiar with) blend chance and skill in various ways. The element of chance prevents knowing for certain, in the vast majority of situations, what the correct decision actually is. One can make estimates as to the probability of events occuring, and with skill, those estimates become more and more accurate. However, humans can't generally come up with a precise solution in the time allotted to them, and even if they could, the random factor sometimes means that the correct decision will have a negative outcome. And as Sartre famously noted about soccer, "everything is complicated by the presence of an opponent."
The key to success in these endeavors is to recognize that, in a weird way, the results don't really matter. We, as humans, are trained to look for patterns, and if a decision leads to a positive outcome, we are tempted to make that decision again even if the outcome was merely a result of chance. Conversely, if the right move leads to a bad outcome, we shy away from it when the situation recurs because our brains remember getting burned the last time. I often tell people I'm teaching Scrabble, "Just because it didn't work doesn't make it the wrong play, and just because it did work doesn't make it the right play."
Making the transition from being results-oriented to process-oriented (that is, focusing on how to make the decision then letting the chips fall where they may) is not easy. I still struggle with it, especially when I know that I'm making the right decisions and going through a long stretch where the results fall against me. However, it often turns out that my decisions were less right than I'd realized, and there's still much to be learned.
Fortunately, as far as I'm aware, nobody's been tied to a railroad track because of a game of Scrabble.