The upcoming book “The Invisible Hook: The Hidden Economics of Pirates” by George Mason economist Peter Leeson is either a superb example of economic history or an open invitation to propagate pirate jokes about economics and political philosophy across the internets.  I choose the latter.

For erudite discussion of the social contracts of pirates compared to those described by Locke, Hobbes, etc., check out this excellent post on the Freakanomics blog. A taste:

Rogue societies’ criminality puts social harmony at a premium. Since any disgruntled member of a criminal society could turn on his comrades and inform authorities of their skullduggery, leading to their capture and punishment, it’s critical to make sure everyone is happy. This means ensuring everyone is pleased to live under society’s rules and is satisfied with the people who administer those rules. A social contract, which secures citizens’ unanimous agreement to political rules at the outset and enshrines this agreement in writing, helps to secure such harmony.

For pirate jokes, stay here and post in the comments.

Over the past two weeks, much digital ink has been spilled about the political meanings and messages embedded in The Dark Knight. In this particular corner of the intertubes, considerable (over)thought has gone into dissecting the layers of philosophy in the film. However, looking closely at the intersection of the two reveals that the filmmakers pose some very important questions that probe the very nature and origins of social and political order.

No spoilers here, so read on, even if you haven’t seen the film yet.

JK!

Words only after the jump, so if you’re just here for the LOLJoker, read no further…

(There Will Be Spoilers)

Christopher Nolan didn’t major in philosophy in college (or “read philosophy at University,” as the case may be), but he evidently has some familiarity with the subject.  How do I know?  Well, both of his two Batman films thus far have featured famous philosophical thought experiments.

In Batman Begins, we have the well-known trolley experiment, in which a person must imagine that s/he is on a trolley that is barreling down the tracks towards five people (or babies, depending on if your ethics professor is more or less of a sadist) who are tied onto the tracks.  The imaginer can then either imagine that s/he pulls a lever, switching the trolley onto another track that only has one person (or baby) tied to it, or that s/he does nothing, allowing the trolley to kill the aforementioned five.  The utilitarian will say, “I switch the trolley to the new track, because it’s better to kill one person than to kill five.”  The non-utilitarian will say, “I leave the trolley to kill the five, because at least then I am not morally at fault.”  The main ethical question is: “Is there a difference between killing a person and letting a person die?”