Harry Potter And The Methods Of Rationality

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******HARRY POTTER AND THEMETHODS OFRATIONALITYby LessWrong*1*chapters 1–77

Based on the characters ofJ. K. ROWLINGand her books:Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s StoneYear One at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Chamber of SecretsYear Two at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Prisoner of AzkabanYear Three at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Goblet of FireYear Four at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Order of the PhoenixYear Five at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Half-Blood PrinceYear Six at HogwartsHarry Potter and the Deathly HallowsYear Seven at Hogwarts

HARRY POTTERAND THE METHODS OF RATIONALIT YBYLESS WRONGEdited by some random fan of a fanFind the original text (perhaps with added chapters) at:http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5782108

CONTENTSONEA Day of Very Low Probability — 13TWOEverything I Believe Is False — 21THREEComparing Reality to Its Alternatives — 27FOURThe Efficient Market Hypothesis — 33FI V EThe Fundamental Attribution Error — 39SIXThe Planning Fallacy — 49SE V ENReciprocation — 79EIGHTPositive Bias — 111NINETitle Redacted, part i — 129TENSelf Awareness, part ii — 137ELE V ENOmake Files, parts i & ii — 149

TWELV EImpulse Control — 155THIRTEENAsking the Wrong Questions — 167FOURTEENThe Unknown and the Unknowable — 189FIFTEENConscientiousness — 205SIXTEENLateral Thinking — 217SE V ENTEENLocating the Hypothesis — 237EIGHTEENDominance Hierarchies — 275NINETEENDelayed Gratification — 303TWENT YBayes’s Theorem — 327TWENT Y-ONERationalization — 345TWENT Y-TWOThe Scientific Method — 365TWENT Y-THREEBelief in Belief — 391TWENT Y-FOURMachiavellian Intelligence Hypothesis — 411TWENT Y-FI V EHold Off on Proposing Solutions — 425

TWENT Y-SIXNoticing Confusion — 443TWENT Y-SE V ENEmpathy — 463TWENT Y-EIGHTReductionism — 493TWENT Y-NINEEgocentric Bias — 517THIRT YWorking in Groups, part i — 535THIRT Y-ONEWorking in Groups, part ii — 559THIRT Y-TWOInterlude: Personal Financial Management — 563THIRT Y-THREECoordination Problems, part i — 569THIRT Y-FOURCoordination Problems, part ii — 599THIRT Y-FI V ECoordination Problems, part iii — 613THIRT Y-SIXStatus Differentials — 627THIRT Y-SE V ENInterlude: Crossing the Boundary — 641THIRT Y-EIGHTThe Cardinal Sin — 645THIRT Y-NINEPretending to be Wise, part i — 655

FORT YPretending to be Wise, part ii — 677FORT Y-ONEInterlude: Frontal Override — 683FORT Y-TWOCourage — 691FORT Y-THREEHumanism, part i — 701FORT Y-FOURHumanism, part ii — 723FORT Y-FI V EHumanism, part iii — 729FORT Y-SIXHumanism, part iv — 741FORT Y-SE V ENPersonhood Theory — 755FORT Y-EIGHTUtilitarian Priorities — 789FORT Y-NINEPrior Information — 799FIFT YSelf Centeredness — 813FIFT Y-ONETitle Redacted, part i — 825FIFT Y-TWOThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part ii — 835FIFT Y-THREEThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part iii — 847

FIFT Y-FOURThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part iv — 851FIFT Y-FI V EThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part v — 869FIFT Y-SIXtspe, part vi: Constrained Optimization — 889FIFT Y-SE V ENtspe, part vii: Constrained Cognition — 901FIFT Y-EIGHTtspe, part viii: Constrained Cognition — 915FIFT Y-NINEtspe, part ix: Curiosity — 929SIXT YThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part x — 943SIXT Y-ONEtspe, part xi: Secrecy and Openness — 955SIXT Y-TWOThe Stanford Prison Experiment, part xii — 973SIXT Y-THREEtspe, part xiii: Aftermaths — 989SIXT Y-FOUROmake Files, part iii — 1033SIXT Y-FI V EContagious Lies — 1043SIXT Y-SIXSelf-Actualization, part i — 1057SIXT Y-SE V ENSelf-Actualization, part ii — 1063

SIXT Y-EIGHTSelf-Actualization, part iii — 1075SIXT Y-NINESelf-Actualization, part iv — 1089SE V ENT YSelf-Actualization, part v — 1101SE V ENT Y-ONESelf-Actualization, part vi — 1117SE V ENT Y-TWOsa, part vii: Plausible Deniability — 1131SE V ENT Y-THREEsa, part viii: The Sacred and the Mundane — 1157SE V ENT Y-FOURsa, part ix: Escalation of Conflicts — 1173SE V ENT Y-FI V ESelf-Actualization, Final: Responsibility — 1201SE V ENT Y-SIXSelf-Actualization, After: Surface Appearances — 1219SE V ENT Y-SE V ENInterlude with the Confessor: Sunk Costs — 1249

“[.A] terrific series, subtle and dramatic andstimulating.”David Brin“Oh Thoth Trismegistus, oh Ma’at, oh Ganesha, oh sweet lady Eris I have not laughed sohard in years!”Eric S. Raymond

CHAPTERONEA DAY OF V ERY LOWPROBABILIT YBeneath the moonlight glints a tiny fragment of silver, a fraction of a line.(black robes, falling).blood spills out in liters, and someone screams a word.***very inch of wall space is covered by a bookcase. Each bookcasehas six shelves, going almost to the ceiling. Some bookshelves arestacked to the brim with hardcover books: science, mathematics, history, and everything else. Other shelves have two layers of paperbackscience fiction, with the back layer of books propped up on old tissueboxes or two-by-fours, so that you can see the back layer of books abovethe books in front. And it still isn’t enough. Books are overflowing ontothe tables and the sofas and making little heaps under the windows.This is the living-room of the house occupied by the eminent Professor Michael Verres-Evans, and his wife, Mrs. Petunia Evans-Verres, andtheir adopted son, Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres.There is a letter lying on the living-room table, and an unstampedenvelope of yellowish parchment, addressed to Mr. H. Potter in emeraldgreen ink.The Professor and his wife are speaking sharply at each other, butthey are not shouting. The Professor considers shouting to be uncivilized.E*13*

***CHAPTER ONE***“You’re joking,” Michael said to Petunia. His tone indicated that hewas very much afraid that she was serious.“My sister was a witch,” Petunia repeated. She looked frightened,but stood her ground. “Her husband was a wizard.”“This is absurd!” Michael said sharply.“They were at ourwedding—they visited for Christmas—”“I told them you weren’t to know,” Petunia whispered. “But it’s true.I’ve seen things—”The Professor rolled his eyes. “Dear, I understand that you’re notfamiliar with the skeptical literature. You may not realize how easy itis for a trained magician to fake the seemingly impossible. Rememberhow I taught Harry to bend spoons? If it seemed like they could alwaysguess what you were thinking, that’s called cold reading—”“It wasn’t bending spoons—”“What was it, then?”Petunia bit her lip. “I can’t just tell you. You’ll think I’m—” Sheswallowed. “Listen. Michael. I wasn’t—always like this—” She gesturedat herself, as though to indicate her lithe form. “Lily did this. BecauseI—because I begged her. For years, I begged her. Lily had always beenprettier than me, and I’d. been mean to her, because of that, and thenshe got magic, can you imagine how I felt? And I begged her to use someof that magic on me so that I could be pretty too, even if I couldn’t haveher magic, at least I could be pretty.”Tears were gathering in Petunia’s eyes.“And Lily would tell me no, and make up the most ridiculous excuses, like the world would end if she were nice to her sister, or a centaurtold her not to—the most ridiculous things, and I hated her for it. Andwhen I had just graduated, I was going out with this boy, Vernon Dursley, he was fat and he was the only boy who would talk to me in college.And he said he wanted children, and that his first son would be namedDudley. And I thought to myself, what kind of parent names their childDudley Dursley? It was like I saw my whole future life stretching out infront of me, and I couldn’t stand it. And I wrote to my sister and toldher that if she didn’t help me I’d rather just—”Petunia stopped.*14*

***A DAY OF V ERY LOW PROBABILIT Y***“Anyway,” Petunia said, her voice small, “she gave in. She told me itwas dangerous, and I said I didn’t care any more, and I drank this potionand I was sick for weeks, but when I got better my skin cleared up and Ifinally filled out and. I was beautiful, people were nice to me,” her voicebroke, “and after that I couldn’t hate my sister any more, especially whenI learned what her magic brought her in the end—”“Darling,” Michael said gently, “you got sick, you gained someweight while resting in bed, and your skin cleared up on its own. Orbeing sick made you change your diet—”“She was a witch,” Petunia repeated. “I saw it.”“Petunia,” Michael said. The annoyance was creeping into his voice.“You know that can’t be true. Do I really have to explain why?”Petunia wrung her hands. She seemed to be on the verge of tears.“My love, I know I can’t win arguments with you, but please, you haveto trust me on this—”“Dad! Mum!”The two of them stopped and looked at Harry as though they’d forgotten there was a third person in the room.Harry took a deep breath. “Mum, your parents didn’t have magic,did they?”“No,” Petunia said, looking puzzled.“Then no one in your family knew about magic when Lily got herletter. How did they get convinced?”“Ah.” Petunia said. “They didn’t just send a letter. They sent aprofessor from Hogwarts. He—” Petunia’s eyes flicked to Michael. “Heshowed us some magic.”“Then you don’t have to fight over this,” Harry said firmly. Hopingagainst hope that this time, just this once, they would listen to him. “Ifit’s true, we can just get a Hogwarts professor here and see the magic forourselves, and Dad will admit that it’s true. And if not, then Mum willadmit that it’s false. That’s what the experimental method is for, so thatwe don’t have to resolve things just by arguing.”The Professor turned and looked down at him, dismissive as usual.“Oh, come now, Harry. Really, magic? I thought you’d know betterthan to take this seriously, son, even if you’re only ten. Magic is just*15*

***CHAPTER ONE***about the most unscientific thing there is!”Harry’s mouth twisted bitterly. He was treated well, probably better than most genetic fathers treated their own children. Harry had beensent to the best elementary schools—and when that didn’t work out, hewas provided with tutors from the endless labor pool of starving students. Always Harry had been encouraged to study whatever caught hisattention, bought all the books that caught his fancy, sponsored in whatever math or science competitions he entered. He was given anythingreasonable that he wanted, except, maybe, the slightest shred of respect.A tenured Professor who taught biochemistry at Oxford could hardlybe expected to listen to the advice of a little boy. You would listen toShow Interest, of course; that’s what a Good Parent would do, and so, ifyou conceived of yourself as a Good Parent, you would do it. But takea ten-year-old seriously? Hardly.Sometimes Harry wanted to scream at his father.“Mum,” Harry said. “If you want to win this argument with Dad,look in chapter two of the first book of the Feynman Lectures onPhysics. There’s a quote there about how philosophers say a great dealabout what science absolutely requires, and it is all wrong, because theonly rule in science is that the final arbiter is observation—that you justhave to look at the world and report what you see. Um. I can’t thinkoffhand of where to find something about how it’s an ideal of scienceto settle things by experiment instead of arguments—”His mother looked down at him and smiled. “Thank you, Harry.But—” her head rose back up to stare at her husband. “I don’t want towin an argument with your father. I want my husband to, to listen tohis wife who loves him, and trust her just this once—”Harry closed his eyes briefly. Hopeless. Both of his parents were justhopeless.Now his parents were getting into one of those arguments again, onewhere his mother tried to make his father feel guilty, and his father triedto make his mother feel stupid.“I’m going to go to my room,” Harry announced. His voice trembled a little. “Please try not to fight too much about this, Mum, Dad,we’ll know soon enough how it comes out, right?”*16*

***A DAY OF V ERY LOW PROBABILIT Y***“Of course, Harry,” said his father, and his mother gave him a reassuring kiss, and then they went on fighting while Harry climbed thestairs to his bedroom.He shut the door behind him and tried to think.The funny thing was, he ought to have agreed with Dad. No onehad ever seen any evidence of magic, and according to Mum, there was awhole magical world out there. How could anyone keep something likethat a secret? More magic? That seemed like a rather suspicious sort ofexcuse.It ought to have been an open-and-shut case for Mum joking, lyingor being insane, in ascending order of awfulness. If Mum had sent theletter herself, that would explain how it arrived at the letterbox withouta stamp. A little insanity was far, far less improbable than the universereally working like that.Except that some part of Harry was utterly convinced that magicwas real, and had been since the instant he saw the putative letter fromthe Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Harry rubbed his forehead, grimacing. Don’t believe everything youthink, one of his books had said.But this bizarre certainty. Harry was finding himself just expectingthat, yes, a Hogwarts professor would show up and wave a wand andmagic would come out. The strange certainty was making no effort toguard itself against falsification—wasn’t making excuses in advance forwhy there wouldn’t be a professor, or the professor would only be ableto bend spoons.Where do you come from, strange little prediction? Harry directed thethought at his brain. Why do I believe what I believe?Usually Harry was pretty good at answering that question, but inthis particular case, he had no clue what his brain was thinking.Harry gave a mental shrug to himself. A flat metal plate on a dooraffords pushing, and a handle on a door affords pulling, and the thing todo with a testable hypothesis is to go test it.He took a piece of lined paper from his desk, and started writing.Dear Deputy HeadmistressHarry paused, reflecting; then discarded the paper for another, tap*17*

***CHAPTER ONE***ping another millimeter of graphite from his mechanical pencil. Thiscalled for careful calligraphy.Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,Or Whomsoever It May Concern:I recently received your letter of acceptance to Hogwarts,addressed to Mr. H. Potter. You may not be aware that my geneticparents, James Potter and Lily Potter (formerly Lily Evans) aredead. I was adopted by Lily’s sister, Petunia Evans-Verres, and herhusband, Michael Verres-Evans.I am extremely interested in attending Hogwarts, conditionalon such a place actually existing. Only my mother Petunia says sheknows about magic, and she can’t use it herself. My father is highlyskeptical. I myself am uncertain. I also don’t know where to obtainany of the books or equipment listed in your acceptance letter.Mother mentioned that you sent a Hogwarts representative toLily Potter (then Lily Evans) in order to demonstrate to her familythat magic was real, and, I presume, help Lily obtain her school materials. If you could do this for my own family it would be extremelyhelpful.Sincerely,Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres.Harry added their current address, then folded up the letter and put itin an envelope, which he addressed to Hogwarts. Further considerationled him to obtain a candle and drip wax onto the flap of the envelope,into which, using a penknife’s tip, he impressed the initials H.J.P.E.V. Ifhe was going to descend into this madness, he was going to do it withstyle.Then he opened his door and went back downstairs. His father wassitting in the living-room and reading a book of higher math to showhow smart he was; and his mother was in the kitchen preparing one ofhis father’s favorite dishes to show how loving she was. It didn’t looklike they were talking to one another at all. As scary as arguments couldbe, not arguing was somehow much worse.*18*

***A DAY OF V ERY LOW PROBABILIT Y***“Mum,” Harry said into the unnerving silence, “I’m going to testthe hypothesis. According to your theory, how do I send an owl toHogwarts?”His mother turned from the kitchen sink to stare at him, lookingshocked. “I—I don’t know, I think you just have to own a magic owl.”That should’ve sounded highly suspicious, oh, so there’s no way to testyour theory then, but the peculiar certainty in Harry seemed willing tostick its neck out even further.“Well, the letter got here somehow,” Harry said, “so I’ll just wave itaround outside and call ‘letter for Hogwarts!’ and see if an owl picks itup. Dad, do you want to come watch?”His father shook his head minutely and kept on reading. Of course,Harry thought to himself. Magic was a disgraceful thing that only stupidpeople believed in; if his father went so far as to test the hypothesis, oreven watch it being tested, that would feel like associating himself withthat.Only as Harry stumped out the back door, into the backyard, did itoccur to him that if an owl did come down and snatch the letter, he wasgoing to have some trouble telling Dad about it.But—well—that can’t really happen, can it? No matter what my brainseems to believe. If an owl really comes down and grabs this envelope, I’mgoing to have worries a lot more important than what Dad thinks.Harry took a deep breath, and raised the envelope into the air.He swallowed.Calling out Letter for Hogwarts! while holding an envelope high inthe air in the middle of your own backyard was. actually pretty embarrassing, now that he thought about it.No. I’m better than Dad. I will use the scientific method even if it makesme feel stupid.“Letter—” Harry said, but it actually came out as more of a whisperedcroak.Harry steeled his will, and shouted into the empty sky, “Letter forHogwarts! Can I get an owl here?”“Harry?” asked a bemused woman’s voice, one of the neighbors.Harry pulled down his hand like it was on fire and hid the envelope*19*

***CHAPTER ONE***behind his back like it was drug money. His whole face was hot withshame.An old woman’s face peered out from above the neighboring fence,grizzled grey hair escaping from her hairnet. Mrs. Figg, the occasionalbabysitter. “What are you doing, Harry?”“Nothing,” Harry said in a strangled voice. “Just—testing a reallysilly theory—”“Did you get your acceptance letter from Hogwarts?”Harry froze in place.“Yes,” Harry’s lips said a little while later. “I got a letter from Hogwarts. They say they want my owl by July 31st, but—”“But you don’t have an owl. Poor dear! I can’t imagine what someonemust have been thinking, sending you just the standard letter.”A wrinkled arm stretched out over the fence, and opened an expectant hand. Hardly even thinking at this point, Harry gave over his envelope.“Just leave it to me, dear,” said Mrs. Figg, “and in a jiffy or two I’llhave someone over.”And her face disappeared from over the fence.There was a long silence in the backyard.Then a boy’s voice said, calmly and quietly, “What.”*20*

CHAPTERTWOE V ERYTHING I BELIE V E ISFALSE“Of course it was my fault. There’s no one else here who could be responsible for anything.”***ow, just to be clear,” Harry said, “if the professor does levitateyou, Dad, when you know you haven’t been attached to anywires, that’s going to be sufficient evidence. You’re not going to turnaround and say that it’s a magician’s trick. That wouldn’t be fair play.If you feel that way, you should say so now, and we can figure out adifferent experiment instead.”Harry’s father, Professor Michael Verres-Evans, rolled his eyes. “Yes,Harry.”“And you, Mum, your theory says that the professor should be ableto do this, and if that doesn’t happen, you’ll admit you’re mistaken.Nothing about how magic doesn’t work when people are skeptical of it,or anything like that.”Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was watching Harrywith a bemused expression. She looked quite witchy in her black robesand pointed hat, but when she spoke she sounded formal and Scottish,which didn’t go together with the look at all. At first glance she lookedlike someone who ought to cackle and put babies into cauldrons, butthe whole effect was ruined as soon as she opened her mouth. “Is thatsufficient, Mr. Potter?” she said. “Shall I go ahe

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