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Since data-harvesting is a fundamental feature of driverless cars, marginalized groups will face exacerbated dicscrimination when the black-box-filled transportation revolution arrives. Marginalized individuals will have no conception of how their data is being extracted or what is being done with it, but will see the effects that it has on their social isolation. Developers will take advantage of their incapacity for complex technology by increasing the already high levels of data collection that marginalized groups face. Governments will use this data for management: they may assess and analyze the tendencies of marginalized individuals, resulting in punitive public policy but doing nothing to attack systematic root causes. Autonomous vehicle companies will use this data for prejudice: they may identify lower class individuals and refuse rides, saving the passenger seat for riders willing to pay higher fees.

Black box algorithms are an inevitable feature of driverless cars’ software, but pose serious safety concerns beyond developers’ programming and expectations. Black box algorithms are also a tactical tool for developers to capitalize on consumers’ incomplete technical knowledge, jeopardizing society’s prized democratic values of privacy and equality. While autonomous vehicles are not yet commonplace, fatal faults in early testing and implications of current data surveillance reveal that we must be skeptical of autonomous ubiquity.

The key to redirecting the dangerous trajectory of black box algorithms in driverless cars is transparency. Technology should be more easily understood and open about its priorities so that consumers, developers, and society as a whole are not exploited by the very technology designed for betterment. Currently, governments regulate industry because companies perform public functions along with private profit-seeking ones. Instead, citizens should be given a voice in this regulation so that companies are held more accountable for their technology. To this end, developers should be required to make their software open-source, meaning that it is open for public regulation and improvement. With a democratic system fully open to the scrutiny of consumers and experts invested in technology’s success, deep learning algorithms for autonomous cars would be much more likely to be error- or omission-free. If developers want to retain private control over their code, then they should be required to be candid about what their code does and how it does what they claim. This would allow consumers to be more conscious of privacy breaches and give marginalized groups the ability to understand in simple terms the algorithms being used against them so that these individuals can repress. While the goal of black boxes is to increase speed and efficiency, these reforms would slow developers and cost time (Pasquale, 2016). Yet, we have seen the instabilities that black box algorithms pose to our urban, economic, and social constructs. We must ask ourselves: What kind of society do we really want?

Question 2:

Party Planning

How Political Psychology Informs the Ideal Party System for America

Ben Lehrburger

As time advances, the stars appear to move from West to East because the Earth is rotating Eastward. Circumpolar stars, those nearest the celestial poles that do not dip below the horizon, move less than those near the horizon because Earth’s center of rotation is the poles. In Stellarium, such circumpolar stars move 15 degrees from East to West, staying above the horizon while the other non-circumpolar stars dip below and rise above it.

Question 3:

As time advances from week to week, the stars appear to move from east to west and as they do they rise and set earlier and earlier each week until they don’t rise at all. This is due to the earth’s rotation. As the earth rotates towards and away from the sun while also orbiting the sun, the stars that are visible at night change, because the sun rises at different times. As the months progress, different constellations will rise than other months. For example, the Summer Triangle is only visible in the summer, but is in the sky during the day in the winter.

What a complicated place this is. There’s no possible way to encompass Dartmouth in an hour of touring, but I feel like my Dartmouth tour as a prospective student was especially lacking. While the Green and its adjacent buildings were all beautiful and enticing, my tour was clearly gilded. No tour can be completely transparent, but looking back on my tour now as a student and experienced member of the Dartmouth community, I realize that it was not a just representation of the College. We barely strayed from the Green; my tour guide avoided talking about the abundant Greek life until I prompted her with five minutes left; there was no discussion of the College’s troubled past -- the Native lands, the 1972 coed movement, or the rampant sexual assault cases. These troubling topics can be spun to show the College’s initiative in overcoming and recompensing for them, but blatant ignorance is wrong. I want to be a tour guide so I can be a proper ambassador for the College. Dartmouth can and will thrive when students with a 360º view want to come here and help the College become an even better institution. As someone with an initially blinded perception Dartmouth, I took a leap of faith in applying. While I feel that Dartmouth is the perfect fit for me and I have been able to make it my own, no college application should be made -- risking hundreds of thousands of dollars, four years of education, and a lifelong network -- without a full scope of the institution. That being said, I would be a bit nervous to interact with alumni who come into a tour with a preconception of the College. In being transparent about Dartmouth’s past and present, I would not want to tatter any alumni’s image of their pristine college years. I find that alumni often shed their bad experiences and hold onto the good, and reintroducing negative aspects of the College could unnerve some of them.

By my second week of school at Dartmouth, I was not in a great headspace. I didn’t have any close friends on campus, I had no direction with my class selection, and I was severely rattled by being uprooted from the only home I had ever known. I felt alone in the middle of nowhere. This is, of course, 99% of students’ freshman experience, but repeating this over and over in my head got me relatively nowhere. One night, like any logical freshman does, I began to wander -- ironically walking further into isolation and away from my only home for hundreds of miles. I found a prime bench, turned on some John Mayer, and cried for an hour. Just sat there and cried; it felt great and terrible at the same time. When my tears began to recede, I made a promise to myself: this is the last time I am going to do this. Wading in my own sorrows will get me nowhere. I had hit my rock bottom, and the only way out was up. I apologize for the clichés, but this part of my freshman experience was more illuminating than any other. The next day, I was determined to completely 180º my Dartmouth experience. That evening, I rounded up a group of people from my floor and brought them to the bench that 24 hours ago seated my deprivation and pain. Now the bench seated empathy and potential. I did not tell my floormates about the previous night, but converting the bench into a breeding ground for community revealed to me that any negative experience I have at Dartmouth can be undone with the proper willpower. To this day, my friends and I still go out to that bench, where I have had fascinating philosophical discussions, deep confessions, and consoled other friends through struggles of their own.

I have a friend named Harrison. In many ways, he is the anti-Dartmouth. Not in the sense that he dislikes Dartmouth -- because he loves the College -- but he is the breaker of Dartmouth stereotypes. I met Harrison during a game of pickup basketball in the Choates. As he dapped me up and introduced himself, I was immediately struck by his thick Southern accent. He was the first deep Southerner I had met on campus, and I can count on one hand how many I have met since Harrison. We continued our game, but the back of my head rang with wonder. Why was it so shocking to me to meet someone from the South at Dartmouth? I had known Southerners my whole life, but why did this feel different? As Harrison and I grew closer, and basketball games turned into long talks and critiques, he opened my eyes to Dartmouth’s disappointing uniformity and my negligence in the matter. Harrison expressed a deep discernment for Dartmouth’s preppy, Northeast convention. Not for the people themselves -- except for those unaware of their privilege -- but also the polarization thrust upon Harrison by this stereotype. I recently read an essay of his on “white trash,” in which Harrison explains how he is labeled as “white trash” by a large part of Dartmouth because of his stark contrast to the overwhelming norm of Northeast prep. Yet, Harrison embraces his “difference” (the only true difference is Harrison’s acute awareness for Dartmouth’s one sidedness that most don’t see) and uses it to empower him. Harrison opposes the Greek organizations and their homogeneity; coming from a small Georgia town where race relations are unstable, Harrison is an aspiring AAAS major; I even swear that sometimes Harrison thickens his accent out of defiance and pride. While Dartmouth has made efforts over past decades to increase diversity on campus, the diversity of perceptions about Dartmouth have not changed. Increasing diversity on campus is useless if the “diverse” are just ostracized from a homogeneous bubble. It is of dire importance that prospects come into Dartmouth understanding students’ initiative to promote inclusivity.

This past winterim I attended a few Dartmouth club events where I met a number of accomplished alumni who were interested in my current Dartmouth experience. They asked about course offerings, my thoughts on current leadership in the college, and a select few made sure to tell me that they used to be in AD. Yet, at the Dartmouth 250th celebration at the Dartmouth Club in New York City, I was approached by a curious ‘67 whose first question really surprised me. Above the slow jazz and mingling I was taken aback when I heard him ask, “So, what is it like to be at the College with women?” I quickly resorted to shock and horror at such a divisive question, but soon realized that his Dartmouth experience was drastically different than mine with his having attended before the College went coed. In that moment, I shrugged off the question by answering, “I wouldn’t know any other Dartmouth” and hastily changing subjects. This interaction has stuck with me. I was uncomfortable with the question then and I still would be now. Society at large and Dartmouth today are much more equality-centric than they were in the 60s, but progress does not erase the past. I find it hard to talk about a Dartmouth that I did not know and would not -- could not -- have stood for. At the same time, I understand that as a member of the Dartmouth community I have a responsibility to represent Dartmouth’s history in its entirety. This leaves me at a true crossroads. I want to embrace Dartmouth’s past and learn from it, which is possible, but there is also a gaping divide between myself and Dartmouth’s past alumni, hindering my ability to learn from them in the first place.

On paper, I am not perhaps the most unique or diverse person. A white male from New York definitely fits the Dartmouth stereotype that myself and the College are trying to break. However, I feel I am unique and diverse in my hunger to interact with and learn from people. I come from a competitive, materialistic town (of which I do not exempt myself) where there is predominantly one type of person that everyone embodies. Growing up, I felt like I was denied the opportunity to experience the proper spectrum of personality and reality. At Dartmouth, I have thrown myself into the world of people and viewpoints. The friends that I have made are of all different backgrounds, politics, nationalities, and religions. I imagine that this is a pretty standard experience at a large institution that draws from all corners of the world. Where I differ is that I inquire. I dive into the people I meet and try to amass as many perspectives as possible. In a room, I want to talk to the person who is most opposite from me and understand why they feel how they feel, why they believe what they believe, and why I should see what they see. I often disagree with what people have to say, but do not by any means impose my own views. I work to form a personal mental network of possible perspectives so I can shed my own one sidedness and help others drop their biases as well. By investigating the people of Dartmouth, I have penetrated the heart of Dartmouth itself and made some headway in forming a well-rounded understanding of this place and its consistency. However, I have only interacted with a fraction of the personalities that Dartmouth has to offer and await learning from the rest. While it is unique for someone to have a specific perspective, I feel that it is even more rare to have a perspective that is versatile and encompassing.

As a tour guide I would hope to learn about myself as a leader. The opportunity to teach and show people a place that I have fallen in love with is unparalleled, and would reflect back unto myself how I function as an instructor. Prospective students and their families are a very impressionable population, therefore my teachings would be even more important. In seeing a tour’s response to my guiding, I’d learn how to more effectively resonate with people and convey my ideas.

Theory of mind (ToM) is the ability to attribute mental states to other agents and use those states to explain and predict behavior (Carruthers et al., 1996). To reason about the mind, it would seem that an agent must experience the mind. But developments in AI and robotics are making it increasingly clear that an agent does not need a mind to play the game of mind reading.

In human-human interactions, having a strong theory of mind generates social intelligence. From relatively few social cues and without explicit communication, we can infer an agent’s beliefs, intentions, and desires, and act on them accordingly. Peering into the far reaches of others’ minds leads to better interpersonal understanding and cooperation. Recently, humans have been introduced to another agent that we interact with on a daily basis: artificial intelligence. But there is a major communication barrier limiting human-AI interaction. Namely, AI does not understand humans, and humans do not understand AI (Celikok et al., 2019). Anyone who has tried to have a conversation with Siri or Alexa knows just how problematic this can be. Fostering cooperation between both parties requires that AI have a theory of mind of humans and humans have a theory of mind of AI. The former is achieved by developing an AI that can form internal models of human agents. The latter is achieved by making the AI’s algorithms transparent enough that the AI can explain its decision-making process to human agents. The described artificial ToM promises to transform human-AI, human-robot, and multi-agent AI interactions (Winfield, 2018).

How, then, can AI have a theory of mind? How can a series of logic gates and electrical signals learn to reason about and predict human behavior?

One clarification is important to mention here: artificial ToM is not looking to attain any real computational understanding of the human mind. It is accepted in the field that a computer will likely not comprehend the mind until artificial consciousness is realized. Instead, what is proposed is an AI that can infer human ideas and anticipate human actions. But this requires no awareness of the mind -- only an ability to replicate how humans move back and forth between action and conception (Sebastian, 2016).

Even so, the above questions remain relatively open ended. The complication that arises when considering how to implement an artificial ToM is that there is little empirical evidence supporting any one theory about ToM in humans. Some leading cognitive approaches like Simulation Theory, Theory Theory, Bayesian Theory of Mind, and the Intentional Stance have been applied in isolation or in combination to artificial ToM programs with limited success. Some are more computationally conducive than others, some succeed in depth but lack the ability to generalize, and some succeed in breadth but fail to produce precise results. Given this ambiguity, one may wonder whether pursuing artificial ToM is worth it until the field realizes an accurate cognitive theory. But what is particularly encouraging about artificial ToM is that it provides a testing ground for our cognitive theories. Implementing ToM allows us to falsify some approaches and computationally model others with clear and decisive data. So, in pursuing artificial theory of mind, we pursue genuine theory of mind in tandem (Winfield, 2018).

In the remainder of the paper, I will first run through a couple of the most promising artificial ToM experiments to date. Then, I will offer my two cents on potential improvements to existing programs and ideas for new experiments moving forwards.

In 2018, Google’s DeepMind rolled out ToMnet -- a theory of mind neural network that adopts Simulation Theory as its conceptual basis. Simulation Theory proposes that humans understand others’ minds by simulating what we would think or feel if we were in their shoes (Barlassina et al., 2017). But ToMnet does not interact with human agents; instead, it builds internal models of other AI agents from observations alone and makes rich predictions about their states. ToMnet comprises three neural nets: the first learns the tendencies of other AIs based on their past actions, the second forms a general concept of their current state of mind (beliefs and intentions at a particular moment), and the third uses the outputs of these networks to predict the AI agent’s actions. In one experiment, ToMnet observed three AI agents maneuvering a room to collect colored boxes. One agent was programmed to be near-sighted, so when the layout of the room changed, they falsely believed that they were still navigating the old environment and stuck to their original paths. ToMnet identified this disability and accurately adjusted predictions for the agent’s movement by simulating itself in a near-sighted state. In this way, ToMnet recognized that other agents can hold false beliefs about the world, passing the revered “false belief task” which is often used to demonstrate ToM in cognitive studies. ToMnet’s primary drawback, however, is that its understanding is deeply entwined with its training context. ToMnet performs poorly when predicting behavior in radically new environments and would struggle to model a human agent (Rabinowitz et al., 2018).

MIT’s Saxelab has recently introduced a novel approach to cognitive ToM: Bayesian Theory of Mind (BToM). BToM is a computationally realizable quantitative model, making it a promising candidate for use in artificial theory of mind. BToM is grounded in Daniel Dennett’s ToM theory the Intentional Stance, which hypothesizes that humans treat others as having a mind as a way of making sense of their behavior. Dennett posits that we can reverse engineer human mental state inferences by treating minds as rational actors whose behavior comprises intentional actions, which is just what the BToM looks to replicate. As rational actors, agents are expected to choose the actions that achieve their desires most effectively, or in other words, maximize their expected utility (Dennett, 2016). By observing an agent’s behavior within an environment and the utility function that they pursue, their beliefs and desires are inferred using Bayesian inference. Actions, utilities, beliefs, and desires are then filed into an agent’s prior probability and used to predict future behavior. In an experiment where BToM was tasked with predicting an agent’s food preferences and spatial beliefs based on their movement between food vendors, BToM made nearly identical inferences to human participants. Despite this success and BToM’s versatility among problem spaces, BToM fails to generate as precise results as DeepMind’s ToMnet (Baker et al., 2017).

Artificial ToM is only in its infancy and is evidently a ways away from perfection. The described approaches are pioneering the field but their empirical success may be jeopardized by omission of certain cognitive processes.

DeepMind’s ToMnet may benefit from considering the distinction between factive and non-factive ToMs. Factive ToM is the general capacity to represent another agent’s understanding of the world, while non-factive ToM is the ability to represent the way another agent believes the world to be (Phillips et al., 2018). The experiment in which ToMnet simulated an agent’s false belief was a demonstration of its capacity for non-factive ToM: ToMnet dissociated its understanding of the world from the agent’s belief of the world and identified that inconsistency. I would be curious, then, to see how ToMnet performs in a test of factive ToM. Specifically, I question ToMnet’s ability to simulate altercentric and egocentric ignorance. How might an AI simulate itself not knowing something it already knows? How might an AI simulate knowing something that it doesn’t and cannot know?

If Saxelab’s BToM is to be applied to artificial ToM, then it may benefit from revising the confidence that it places in Dennett’s Intentional Stance. Recall that the Intentional Stance supposes that humans make mental state inferences by treating minds as rational actors that seek to maximize expected utility. Challenging this expected utility theory, Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman propose the prospect theory, which adjusts for cognitive constraints on decision-making. When it comes to risk taking, Tversky and Kahneman show that humans are largely irrational. We impose a series of heuristics and biases that, under certain risk-inducing circumstances, do not lead us to maximize expected utility (Tversky et al., 1992). In human-human interactions, this irrationality is neutralized because prospect theory is ubiquitous; when reasoning about another agent’s mind, one will assume their own cognitive biases and therefore make an accurate inference of the other agent’s cognitively biased mental state. But in human-BToM-based-AI interactions, we are faced with another communication barrier: a human agent infers cognitive biases in the AI that don’t actually exist, and the AI assumes the human is rational in situations where cognitive biases prevail. To overcome this hurdle, I propose that a BToM-based AI adopt prospect theory instead of expected utility theory so that cognitive biases are realized.

Lastly, I would be interested to see if artificial ToM approaches involving Simulation Theory and BToM can be reconciled. Since Simulation Theory is empirically strong in depth but not in breadth while BToM is empirically strong in breadth but not in depth, the two theories may find the balance of generalization and precision that current programs lack.

The road ahead for artificial ToM is long and winding, but progress is steady. As theories about cognitive ToM inform experiments in artificial ToM and vice versa, we near what will one day be a compatible and transparent relationship between humans and technology at large.

I am applying to Tuck Bridge because I’ve learned that business is inevitable. In quarantine this summer, I launched a startup with a friend of mine. Our idea was a platform for small businesses to crowdsource microloans. It quickly became clear, however, that having an idea for a business and actually understanding business itself are two very different things. This was troubling for me, because I’m someone who loves to create; I love to build and see my ideas materialize. Throughout the business-building process, I couldn’t help but feel underprepared and amiss. Now, I realize that if I want to create in this world and extend those creations to other people, I need to have a firm understanding of the “how” in business, not just the “what.”

Down the road, I want to have a large scale business of my own. In particular, I am motivated by the human brain. There’s so much buried in our neurons and cortices that we still don’t understand, and I believe that unlocking those mysteries will generate growth across industries. With my Cognitive Science degree, I want to apply cognitive insights to behavioral economics, neuroscience, quantum physics, and artificial intelligence. But, once again, to realize that dream, I need to have a foundational understanding of business that I can take with me through my professional career. Tuck Bridge will provide me with the resources and skills I need to do so.

Specifically, I want to know: (1) how to conduct financial accounting (2) how to internally manage a business and (3) how to leverage strengths within a team to create a successful organization and product. Tuck Bridge’s core courses like corporate finance and managerial economics will help me with my first two objectives. The third is one that will develop over the course of the Tuck Bridge program as I work in student teams and with my professor(s). It will also be cemented by the culminating team capstone project, which is an awesome opportunity to exercise the creativity I love and learn about how to synthesize effective collaboration in the context of business.

Last winter, I enrolled in an architecture course on a whim. I showed up on the first day of class with no architecture experience but with a desire to create something tangible. By the end of the term, I found that my creations were having a direct impact on the Upper Valley community. In doing so, I learned how to build an idea from the ground up in a team and take a human-centered approach to creation.

Architecture started with the basics: sketches, diagrams, floor plans, sections, blueprints. But after a few weeks of fundamentals, I was given the chance to create with real-world implications. The class was broken into teams of three, and then we were introduced to our client. West Lebanon’s LISTEN Food Pantry was expanding into a new space and needed a streamlined, deliberate floor plan that would encourage healthy eating choices while also making it easy to navigate the store.

But I hadn’t met the LISTEN Center administors; I hadn’t met the customers using the food pantry; I hadn’t met any of my clients. And, I had a team’s inputs to take into account. No longer were my blueprints entirely of my own creation. Half of the blueprint had been specified by clients I hadn’t met, and the other half was subject to the improvisation and revision of my teammates. For the first time in recent memory, I struggled to create.

After a few contentious days, however, I realized that a creation is fluid and interpersonal. I realized most of my creations moving forwards are not for me, but for a client, for a team, and for the greater good. Even though I didn’t know my clients personally, I could empathize with their wants and needs. And even though I was working in a team, I learned that we could each supplement different aspects of the design process to create a more effective product than one coming from a single mind. By the end of the project, the LISTEN Center chose my group’s floor plan to pursue with a million dollar renovation.

Working for a client and working in a team are important skills for any business venture, but particularly in the Tuck learning environment. When it comes to creating a business -- be it anything from communications to ethics -- I’ve learned to always prioritize my client’s interests. Even if I don’t know the exact people using my business’ product, I can empathize with them to replicate an interpersonal connection. And when it comes to creating a business in a team, I’ve learned to organize efforts by leveraging each teammate’s strengths, resulting in an outstanding product.

Uber’s management algorithm unfairly underpays drivers and charges riders by taking larger cuts from fares than advertised.

Concealed by the veil of an algorithm, Uber subtly modifies pricing distributions without notifying drivers or riders (108)

Uber insists that their wages are transparent and their pricing practices are not discriminatory, meanwhile they separate they manipulate driver's earnings and use AI to analyze passenger data and identify those willing to pay higher fees (108)

Uber initially promised to correlate a driver’s earnings per ride with the cost of passenger fares but dropped that model to exploit each sum individually (108)

Automated responses work for basic inquiries but are unable to adapt and properly resolve niche cases (143)

Having a basis of technology also allows for a reliable scapegoat. Whenever Uber faces criticism, their algorithm and technology takes the blame rather than the company itself (115)

Uber is especially powerful and dangerous because they are both the employer of drivers and negotiator between drivers and the company (115)

Uber uses data surveillance techniques to control the behavior of and learn from drivers and riders (139)

A question of the extent of drivers’ and riders’ privacy rights (164)

Tracking users’ data not only allows them to be manipulated and incentivized, but also jeopardizes their confidential data beyond Uber (164)

In 2016, news broke that hackers had gained access to the personal data of 57 million Uber drivers and passengers, such as their names, email addresses, and mobile phone numbers

The battlefield seems to be a graveyard for human life and morality alike. Yet, it can be argued that even among the most inhumane conditions in war, morality’s guidance still has force. Where technological advancements give way to increasingly effective methods of mass bloodshed, there is something to be said for how armed humans ought to treat others. Given today’s feverish political climate, we must consider realistic scenarios of future instances of war. In an international conflict, the able-bodied will be faced with joining the armed forces through conscription or enlistment. This prompts the question: how does the voluntarism of soldiers to join the military impact moral constraints in war? In the following analysis, I will first assess Thomas Nagel’s War and Massacre, an investigation into the absolute deontological view of war. Expanding upon Nagel’s ideas, I will then consider how voluntarism plays into the moral equation through Nagel’s lens, raising a discussion of consent.

In its essence, war is a product of a conflict, a means of resolving that conflict, and the ultimate resolution to that conflict. In what Nagel refers to as “the problem of ends and means,” a resolution may not be justified by the means of achieving it given immoral actions taken along the way. The Treaty of Versailles that ended World War I was perceived as asylum by millions of American and European commoners, but its resolutions were negligible given the thousands of soldiers who suffered from the mangling effects of mustard gas. Utilitarianism is strictly concerned with the Treaty of Versailles in that enough evil was averted by the resolution to negate maltreatment. Yet, any sense of humanity is ignored here. It is far too easy to ease our conscious’ of the moral burdens of war by allowing a resolution to blind us from barbarism. This beckons an absolute deontological outlook that preserves the principle of humanity through absolute restrictions: all humankind has a right to humane treatment where prohibition takes precedence over consequences. If the means of war are made to be morally pure, then any end will be moral in tandem. Thus, we must establish restrictions on inhumane actions to clarify moral means.

The first restriction I will examine regards who can legitimately be targeted in a conflict. Nagel distinguishes between the means of “fighting dirty” and “fighting clean,” which are intuitive conceptions of respect -- a basic human right via the principle of humanity -- in war. To conduct one’s means in a dirty manner is to target the aggressor’s vulnerability rather than the aggressor themselves.

Aristotle pins happiness as the end goal of a life’s search for meaning and fulfillment. Thus, his definition of happiness bears great weight on the lives of those who subscribe to his views. I see Aristotle’s definition as more of a definition of eternal satisfaction rather than that of happiness. Aristotle preaches that “happiness” is achieved when someone is in the best possible condition to be a morally excellent human being. By pursuing action, surrounding ourselves with good people, and acquiring moral intellect, Aristotle says that we can all be happy. However, can’t someone be morally excellent and unhappy, or morally un-excellent and happy, at the same time? By becoming morally excellent, we gain the knowledge of how we ought to act, but not any insight into what actions will make us happy. Moral excellence is more like a series of checks and balances with the natural world, forcing us to sacrifice our own well being to serve the gods of morality. For this reason, I disagree with Aristotle's happiness hypothesis.

Back in my bath-time days, I was a trained chef. When I entered my kitchen, sinks became mixing bowls and medicine cabinets served as spice racks. My renowned dishes included toothpaste casserole, moisturizer stew, and mouthwash soup with baby powder garnish on top. There were no recipes to guide my reckless mixing, and I found excitement in the endless possibilities. Embracing autonomy is the beauty of bathroom cooking, which is too often forgotten when looking upon life. Where there is a split in the road, we turn to a roadmap; where there is no roadmap, we have an anxiety attack. In contemplating our existence, we seek quantization and complete answers. We subscribe to religions and immediately reject the notion that there may be no life after death. If our lives are built on foundations of dishonesty with ourselves and the universe, how could we ever expect to find genuine happiness? We must welcome the absurdity and uncertainty in our existence, becoming bathroom chefs of our own. Only then will we know happiness: a permanent attitude of contentment with life’s unknown.

Rather than an emotion or feeling, happiness is an attitude. It is a learned tendency for evaluating life. Emotions are reactions to external events, and which emotions we feel depends on our attitude toward the affective object being evaluated. Physically, emotions are neural impulses: Rube Goldberg machines of electrical signals careening down winding nerve pathways in the brain (Burton). Emotions like pain and pleasure are only fleeting moments that ultimately play no role in affecting attitudes. Happiness, on the other hand, is a permanent mental framework. It is the neural pathway on which pleasure, kindness, pleasant surprise, and gratitude all travel. An attitude is a matter of neuroplasticity, meaning that it has the ability to do mental roadwork (Cherry). If we adopt an attitude of happiness, then we are constructing more roads with final destinations of happiness. Namely, the emotion that we are looking to guide down these roads is “out-of-control.”

The out-of-control emotion is the underlying cause of most of our other negative emotions such as pain (mental, not physical), anxiety, anger, and irritation. It is part of the unhappiness we feel when mom says we can only buy two boxes of Lucky Charms and not three (lacking control relative to mom), when the Mets lose their hundredth game of the season (lacking control relative to our ability to impact the Mets’ record), or when another Trump headline breaks (lacking control relative to presidential power). Out-of-control is also what we feel in relation to big-ticket concepts like existence, God, the universe, and most notably, death. Here, we feel out of control of life, both our personal life and life as an entity. This is the pothole on our neural happiness road. Wake Forest University Professor of English Eric G. Wilson is an avid advocate of embracing melancholy, and with that comes the reception of death. Wilson understands the weight that death imparts on our emotions, inquiring, “What are we always anxious about, either directly or indirectly, but our own end?” (Wilson, 255) My anxiety regarding not submitting this essay on time boils down to: not getting a good grade, thus not having a good college GPA, thus not getting a good job, thus not leaving a proper legacy of myself in this world before I die. But if we can find a way to neutralize our death-ziety, then our negative emotions will have no standing. We must direct our nerve roads away from fear and build new, freshly paved highways toward happiness. How?

The only way we can interact with the universe is through our emotions -- internal reactions to external stimuli. As a result, we are constantly deceived by the subjectivity of the universe’s occurrences. Everything is in relation to us. If one rips a hole in their favorite shirt, they instinctively respond with “I’m having a bad day,” even though no harm was inflicted on their person. I propose that we take a more objective stance in our internalization of the universe -- one through a “natural lense.” The universe is a confusing, death-filled being, and for these reasons it is beautiful. Our existence is illogical, yet the universe somehow brought life and consciousness from what was once a sea of photons (Tyson). Looking down at a ripped shirt, it is easy to be caught in Earth’s minute happenings. But when we lift our heads, gazing at the stars and depths of our celestial home, we realize that a ripped shirt and our emotions are negligible relative to the cosmos. When Wilson embraces the universe, “All fakeness falls away, and [he is] at the core of life” (Wilson, 256). Accepting that which is overwhelming, we become bathroom chefs. Nature’s mystery catalyzes our passion and curiosity to understand it; we do not let this mystery drive us back into the simplicity of our emotions. Death is welcomed, natural, and beautified rather than feared and ignored. We must experiment cooking with life, where mystery is shaved truffle and death is the caviar on top.

This bathroom chef theory parallels other philosophical theories of happiness. These theories come in two flavors: mental states and well-being. Mental states refer to one’s psychological condition, while well-being concerns what benefits a person (Haybron). The life satisfaction theory is a mental state theory that identifies happiness with “having a favorable attitude toward one’s life as a whole” (Haybron, 2.1). Here, happiness is a reflectional judgement of one’s life relative to their priorities (Haybron). Like the bathroom chef theory, the life satisfaction theory categorizes happiness as an attitude, so it is not based on individual moments of biased emotion. The theories diverge, however, where life satisfaction is incomplete, lacking an explanation as to what priorities satisfaction should arise from. When prompted with the question of what they are satisfied with, the bathroom chef theorist responds, “life’s unknown.” This is a strong priority: no matter what else happens in life, one’s emotions are always neutralized through the natural lense and happiness prevails. People with weak priorities will find it difficult to achieve ultimate satisfaction. Priorities of monetary wealth, culture, good relationships and health are all subject to being unattainable at one point or another. It is impossible for these weak priorities to exist one hundred percent of the time. While they may persevere for a majority of one’s life, leaving them holistically satisfied, prioritizing acceptance of life’s unknown prevents against any dissatisfaction at all. Once we reach this state, we will reach eternal happiness.

By combining elements of the life satisfaction theory with Aristotle’s theory of eudaimonia, the priority anomaly can be fixed. Aristotle -- an Ancient Greek philosopher whose work shapes modern psychology and ethics -- sought to define the best way to lead a meaningful life in his work, Nicomachean Ethics. Aristotle uses the term “eudaimonia” as synonymous with well-being to denote one’s ultimate goal (Aristotle). Well-being derives from human good, which Aristotle construes as the “activity of the soul in conformity with excellence” (Aristotle, 84). Aristotle’s interpretation of “excellence” is in the moral sense that acting virtuously over the course of one’s life brings about well-being and happiness in tandem. Further, Aristotle concludes that happiness grows out of well-being, for if one is living under the best possible conditions, they will in turn be happy. Thus, virtue is our fundamental priority (Aristotle). The bathroom chef theorist would agree that excellence is our central priority, but dismisses its moral grounds. Instead, human good is the “activity of the soul in conformity with excellence in accepting the universe’s nature.” Virtue is not a weak priority in that it easily leads to dissatisfaction, but is weak because well-being does not correlate with happiness. Well-being should be treated as an emotion, for well-being is “often taken to consist in mental states like pleasure” (Haybron, 1.2). It is another temporary, fleeting condition. One can be making the most virtuous of choices, but a looming shroud of death-ziety can still exist, overpower virtue, and induce unhappiness. Virtue and well-being bring us nowhere closer to seeing the universe’s beauty, and consequently do not produce any of the mental happiness highways we are after. Excellence in embracing life’s unknown is our principle priority.

I concede that it is difficult to accept the bathroom chef theory, but my personal experience validates its happiness reparation. I converted to bathroom chefism out of fear. My young, fragile mind could not embrace the concept of death. I spent countless nights crying myself to sleep over eternal darkness. “How does my consciousness cease to exist? How can there be nothing?” The only remedies for my tears were convincements that some anti-aging serum would be available by the time my time came. The foolishness of this conviction eventually became clear, and I had to adopt another rationale. I gave myself two choices: live to die or die to live. The first option was the path of fear, in which my life would forever be constricted by inevitable death. The latter was something I had never considered before. If I accepted death, then infinite ways of life, unrestricted by death, would become possible. Wilson shares a similar account, observing that, “We all die, and in our dying is, paradoxically, our living” (Wilson, 254). Pursuing death for life, my anxiety and fear gave way to happiness. I was not an emotionless robot, but any time my emotions clouded my judgement I could dismiss them as natural phenomena in the scope of the universe. What is more, I was propelled into a frenzy of curiosity regarding my existence. “What is consciousness? Is the multiverse real? How am I here? How is any of this here?”

So began the bathroom chef theory: an attitude of happiness derived from internalizing the universe. Accepting death and objectifying our emotions paves mental interstates and autobahns. Where the element of satisfaction in the life satisfaction theory is a glob of Crest and the natural-excellence of eudaimonia is Listerine, they combine to form a recipe-less sink-full of happiness. To live our lives in ignorance of the universe is unjust to the gift of life we have been bestowed. Rather, to investigate and embrace this strange world is to make the most of our human condition.

A central debate that Nussbaum tackles in her essay is what combination of positive emotion and intentional activity happiness necessitates. Nussbaum predominantly cites Jeremy Benthan and Aristotle to guide her discussion, where Benthan believes that pleasure constitutes happiness and merely fluctuates in quantity while Aristotle observes eudaimonia, which is human flourishing through action.

Last night I was listening to a fascinating Podcast in the series “Stuff You Should Know” about the Man of the Hole. The Man of the Hole is a real-life middle-aged man living in the heart of the Amazon rainforest who is known to be the last remaining member of his tribe. His name comes from the bizarre, deep holes he has dug into each of his huts. Efforts by the Brazilian government to protect the Man of the Hole have increased over the last few decades; attempts to come into contact with him have failed, however, and he remains completely isolated from the outside world. The Man of the Hole is such a fascinating case study because he is a completely unbiased entity, free from the effects of modern technologies and cultures.

I would like to discuss the debate of happiness existing in action versus pleasure through the lens of the Man of the Hole. The Man of the Hole does not engage in any intentional activities besides those necessary for his survival. He makes arrowheads, hunts, builds thatched shelters, and simply exists in his natural habitat. Yet, I argue that these activities are not the intentional activities that Aristotle refers to. If the Man of the Hole did not engage in life-sustaining activities, then he would not be alive. Thus, there are activities that are necessary for survival, compared to activities beyond that which constitute intentional activities in accordance with eudaimonia. So, can the Man of the Hole — who does not engage in any intentional activities — still experience happiness? Of course! If he were not happy, then he would have made already made efforts to assimilate into the developed world to seek happiness. Assimilation would be his intentional activity. What the Brazilian government observes when they monitor him is that he is entirely happy with his fundamental lifestyle. Thus, his happiness must be attributed to positive emotions. Further, the Man of the Hole reveals that positive emotions are satisfactory on their own to promote happiness.

The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy offers a clear framework of the various theoretical definitions of happiness. The two branches of study of psychological happiness, referring to a state of mind, and happiness in the philosophical sense, which focuses more on individual well-being. As I read, I didn’t find myself agreeing with any particular philosophical theory. Hedonism is ambiguous, where pursuing superficial pleasures our whole lives won’t have any positive mental repercussions, and experience alone is not enough to account for happiness. In desire theories, we may have desires that inadvertently result in unhappiness. As for objective list theories, my intuition won’t allow me to believe that there can be objective prudential goods inscribed into our very nature. On the psychological side of the debate, I was a bit more swayed, but still not entirely convinced. Regarding the emotional state view, proponents ignore that non-mental conditions of our lives matter for happiness just as much as mental states do. The life satisfaction theory was most appealing to me. It reflects the quality of one’s life as a whole, accounts for the distribution of good, and is linked to our priorities/desires. Where the theory goes wrong is that it is very dependent on peoples’ values. If people have incommensurable values or lack a scope of how their lives are going relative to their priorities, then they may have an inaccurate sense of their happiness. Thus, I will look to modify the life satisfaction theory in my essay so that these concerns can be convincingly defended.

Wilson’s insight into “terrible beauty” is contrary to many of our innate beliefs about the meaning of life. In fact, Wilson completely disputes the title of our class -- Pursuit of Happiness -- revealing to us that we are simple beings for signing up to take such a preposterous course. Instead of living to find eternal happiness, Wilson claims that we should live for death. If we accept our inevitable course towards annihilation, we will see the beauty of nature, and in nature, the beauty of death. Through complacency, preconceptions, and inability to accept melancholy and the other pains of life, we detach ourselves from reality. Only when death is truly encroaching will we see past life’s mirage.

To formulate his argument, Wilson finds narrative in John Keats’ pioneering story. In the final years of Keats’ brief yet vibrant life, he faces death and experiences an explosion of creativity and beauty as a result. Wilson utilizes Keats’ various writings on the topic, such as “Ode on Melancholy” and Endymion, to provide evidence supporting Wilson’s claims, and then reinforces it with his own logic. Wilson aims to change our presupposed definitions of terms such as prettiness, life, happiness, and authenticity. He blurs the boundaries between polar opposite words like melancholy, beauty, and death, unifying them under a common umbrella of necessities for genuine livelihood. Via this strategy, Wilson persuades the reader to drop all of their prior speculations and open their minds to possibilities of new information. With a clean slate, Wilson floods the reader’s sensories with denial of our previous ways of life and provides a new life outlook. Unlike many philosophical texts, Wilson is prudent to define terms in footnotes at the bottom of his pages. Wilson cares about his reader’s understanding more than avoiding philosophical critique, resulting in a more comprehensive and engaging read.

Personally, I side with Wilson’s argument. I used to cry myself to sleep at night in perpetual fear of death. Night after night, my parents would try to calm me, but the inevitability of eternal darkness was overwhelming. Eventually, I realized that there was no point in wasting my precious time worrying about something inevitable, and that I should maximize my short life. This was when I turned towards philosophy and psychology -- I want to spend my life studying life, attempting to delve into what I am as an amorphous blob in a strange world among many other amorphous blobs. And, how do I even know that I’m an amorphous blob? Why can this amorphous blob create thought and write about himself in the third person? These are the types of questions that acceptance of death has propelled me to pursue. While I am still yet to reach full acceptance of beauty in melancholy, I am well on my way.

I am on a mission to solve intelligence. At first, I wanted to understand the link between human intelligence and human behavior. Over time, I learned that the intelligent processes that give rise to human behavior can be recreated and enhanced with code. Now, AI is my tool of choice for extending my own brainpower and solving problems that I see in the world around me.

During my research, I have trained deep-learning networks to predict human generosity, led foundational UX research at a nascent tech startup, and volunteered my time to teach AI ethics to more than 50,000 teens. I have managed the deployment of a flagship natural language classifier, developed cost-cutting machine learning algorithms for a record label, and sold an entire metaverse platform to a Fortune 500 company. Although I am only a college graduate, I am hungry to devote myself to an organization that shares my love for human and machine intelligence.

I am ready for the challenge that Oracle presents. My experience deploying intelligent models for corporations and nonprofits alike, leading AI research in academic labs and tech startups, and my lifetime commitment to solving intelligence have all prepared me to thrive in this role. For further evidence of my exceptional ability, please see my digital portfolio and GitHub profile. I could not be more excited to decode intelligence with Oracle and I appreciate you reviewing my application.