(Roughly) Daily

Posts Tagged ‘Amanda Shendruk’

“Never predict the end of the world. You’re almost certain to be wrong, and if you’re right, no one will be around to congratulate you.”*…

A crowd of people in hats with one person in the foreground raising their hands, conveying a sense of urgency or passion, in a monochromatic blue tone.

Still, as Amanda Shendruk reminds us (in her fascinating newsletter Not-Ship), sometimes incorrect predictions have something useful to teach us…

According to a paper published in one of the world’s top scientific journals exactly 66 years ago today — the world will end on Friday, Nov. 13, 2026. “At this date human population will approach infinity if it grows as it has grown in the last two millennia,” wrote Heinz von Foerster and his coauthors in Science.

But don’t cancel your plans! The end may be nigh, but it won’t be next week.

Von Foerster was worried about too many people. So, he fit a curve to 24 historical population estimates and found that population growth wasn’t just rising, it was accelerating. That was 1960, when the population was doubling about every 30 years. By his math, it would double every five years by 2016, and every six months by the end of 2025. And by Nov. 13, 2026, the global population would be doubling so fast that it would shoot off toward infinity.

Here’s what actually happened.

The doomsday formula was right — but only until the 1990s

Von Foerster’s population predictions compared with real global population numbers:

Global population growth peaked in the 1960s, just as the paper came out, and birth rates began to fall. The global birth rate today is roughly half what it was in 1960.

The authors didn’t really expect infinite people. But their worry was real nonetheless: that kind of growth couldn’t last. “Our great-great-grandchildren will not starve to death,” they wrote. “They will be squeezed to death.”

Today, “squeezed to death” isn’t the doomsday most of us fear, but it mirrored worries of the time. Runaway population was a defining anxiety of the decade, one that would peak in 1968 with The Population Bomb — an alarmist, bestselling book predicting mass famine.

Still, von Foerster’s prediction belongs to a very old tradition: Doomsday dates are poor guides to the future, but great records of the moments that produced them.

I compiled a dataset of about 280 dated doomsday predictions from Wikipedia and the Doomsday Scoreboard. There’s no way to know how complete this list is. I’m going to go with “not very.” But we can learn from it nonetheless.

The earliest is 66–70 CE, when a Jewish sect saw the revolt against Rome as the final battle. Before then, doomsday predictions lacked fixed dates. Precision arrived thanks to linear timelines, standardized calendars, and Jewish and early Christian apocalyptic literature.

The end is always near

Dated predictions of the end of the world, by decade:

It seems to me that doomsday dates are a bit like monster movies. They’re never really about the monsters, but about our shared anxieties.

For most doomsday dates, God is the destroyer. But signs that the end was near, and often the details of how it would happen, came from the world around them. When the Black Death devastated Europe in the 1340s, some took it as proof that the end times had begun. The Christians who braced for the end in 1666 were unnerved by the 666 in the date, the number of the beast. In 1856, as British colonists took Xhosa land in southern Africa, the prophet Nongqawuse foretold a day when the dead would rise and the Europeans would be swept into the sea — not the end of the world, but of colonial rule.

“Concern about the end of the world has always been with us,” said Matthew Gabriele, a medieval studies scholar and apocalypse expert, in an interview with Nautilus. “But the change from belief that something theological would drive it, to the possibility of human-made destruction, is absolutely new.”

In 1945, we got the atom bomb. And the ability to bring about our own demise. Predictions continued to mirror our anxieties: nuclear war, of course (at least 19 predictions), then aliens at the dawn of the space age (though first as messengers; only later as destroyers). There was Y2K in 2000, and in 2008, a black hole from the Large Hadron Collider.

Today, our most prominent warnings rarely come with dates. Instead, they come wrapped in the language of risk and probability. The Doomsday Clock, which the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists adjusts each year to show how close it thinks humanity is to destroying itself, now stands at 85 seconds to midnight, the closest it has ever been. And in the AI world — where “end is nigh” headlines appear almost weekly — people speak of p(doom), or the “probability of doom.” (I’ve ranted about p(doom) before. Tl;dr, it’s a load of bunk.)

Von Foerster’s doomsday date tells us what worried people in 1960: too many people and not enough room. Our warnings today say just as much about now. We look to scientific or industry authorities, not prophets, to tell us how close the end is. And the threats they track — nuclear weapons, a warming climate, artificial intelligence — are all of our own making…

“Good news! The world won’t end on Nov. 13, 2026,” from @not-ship.com.

* John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet

###

As we contemplate our concerns, we might send blotched birthday greetings to Hermann Rorschach; he was born on this date in 1884. A psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, his education in art helped to spur the development of a set of inkblots that were used experimentally to measure various unconscious parts of the subject’s personality. Rorschach knew the human tendency to project interpretations and feelings onto ambiguous stimuli and believed that the subjective responses of his subjects enabled him to distinguish among them on the basis of their perceptive abilities, intelligence, and emotional characteristics. His method has come to be known as the Rorschach test, iterations of which have continued to be used over the years to help identify personality, psychotic, and neurological disorders.

Black and white portrait of a young man with styled hair and a mustache, wearing a formal outfit with a tie.

source

“Always create more value than you capture”*…

There are, of course, myriad ways to rank people. Increasingly these days, the preferred scale seems to be one’s wealth. The Forbes 400, which ranks the richest Americans by their wealth, has become the scorecard of our zeitgeist. But one of its denizens (currently #4), Jeff Bezos, suggested in 2024, “somebody needs to make a list where they rank people by how much wealth they’ve created for other people.”

Sakshyam Patro has obliged…

… this is that list: [It ranks] founders by Wealth Created For Others (WCFO): the dollar value their companies generated for shareholders other than themselves…. every number traceable to an SEC filing, an academic dataset, or a named data source — refreshed every fifteen minutes while markets are open. Each figure is the shareholder wealth a founder’s company created, now held by index funds, pensions, employees and co-founders, minus what the founder kept. It’s not a claim that one person built the company alone…

See the list here. (Teaser: as of this writing, Bezos moves up one slot, from #4 to #3); the current Forbes #1, Elon Musk, drops to #28 (his wealth is $798B; his investors have lost $243B). And see the details of the methodology here.

Patro adds some important context– the first point especially:

  • It is the Forbes billionaires list, re-sorted — not a ranking of humanity’s benefactors. The universe is living billionaires with a trackable public company. Norman Borlaug, Linus Torvalds, vaccine developers, and public-sector reformers created enormous value and belong at the top of a different list; they are absent here because they are not billionaires with public equity, not because the metric judges them small. This list answers exactly one question Bezos posed: among the people Forbes already ranks by personal wealth, who created the most for others versus kept for themselves?
  • Not a measure of consumer surplus, wages, or societal value beyond shareholders (those are larger still — Nordhaus [see here] estimates innovators capture only ~2.2% of the social surplus they create — but they are not reliably measurable per person, so we do not headline them).
  • Not a moral scoreboard. It measures one thing: dollars of shareholder wealth created beyond a risk-free benchmark, minus dollars kept.
  • Not affiliated with Forbes or with any prior ranking site.

Ranked by the wealth they built for other investors: “The Anti‑Forbes List.”

To observe the obvious, the numbers at play here are big… so big as to be hard to understand. Amanda Shendruk urges us to make the effort and offers some helpful tips: “Understanding large values: It’s our ethical duty.”

* Tim O’Reilly

###

As we re-evaluate, we might recall that it was on this date in 1598 that Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice was entered on the Stationers’ Register. By decree of Queen Elizabeth, the Stationers’ Register licensed printed works, giving the Crown tight control over all published material. In those days, “copyright” mainly meant “the right to make copies”; secondarily, it conferred intellectual property rights (though in those days, mainly to the guild printers who got the permissions).

In some cases, the companies of actors appear to have registered plays through co-operative stationers, with the express purpose of forestalling the publication of a play when publication was not in their interest. This seems to have been the case with The Merchant of Venice and Shakespeare’s company, The Lord Chamberlain’s Men: the copyright was granted to James Roberts, who printed the company’s playbills and held copyrights on five of their plays (two by Shakespeare). But Roberts transferred the copyright to fellow stationer Thomas Heyes in 1600, and Hayes published first quarto edition of the play before the end of the year.

Title page of the first quarto, 1600 (source)