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The strain in your brain

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29 Jul, 2026

Do you feel it?

brain

Do you remember the feeling? You’re reading something: something new and complex. And you’re really trying—pushing through that strain in your brain. Do you feel that anymore?

It’s a strange thing. As a programmer, it was that feeling that signalled to me that I was learning something new. When the strain dissipated, I came out the other side afresh with new knowledge.

Writing code pre-AI gave me that feeling. Reading the docs, or oftentimes the source code of another project led to that tension. Finally figuring out how to wire everything right and make it work was cathartic. It was never really about writing the code anyway—reading and forming that mental model was the hard part.

I recall studying the Double Rachet algorithm because I really wanted to understand the Signal Protocol. I must’ve spent two days on that page. Reading, re-reading. Every time pushing past that strain in the brain, only to be met with it again. I grokked it eventually, and I can still mostly recollect it.

Reading LLM-written code or a summarized document doesn’t feel the same anymore. It’s still reading, but without the strain in the brain. It’s done the churning for me. It’s pre-chewed, I just need to swallow it.

So why do this? Why subject ourselves to cognitive decline? Is it even cognitive decline? Some studies claim so, and some don’t—the jury is still out. Perhaps with every new technological advancement, we must trade a portion of our human ability.

With AI, we trade our (meta)cognition for speed. Doing things the hard way takes time. In this business, time is measured by how fast everyone around you is going. And I think it’s fine—we’re clearly progressing.

Personally, I’ve been slowly bringing that feeling back by taking notes on paper and writing without AI. Writing by hand is good for your brain.1 I’m also going to try writing code by hand for side-projects. I do fear for those who haven’t written code (or prose) by hand before.

This is the new normal; much like how we’ve fenced off time from our weeks to hit the gym, we just have to hit the brain gym every so often.

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emrox
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The Difference Between a Button and a Link

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Unplanned Obsolescence


July 28, 2026

Of the three proposals in the Triptych Project, my multi-year odyssey to add a few small-but-powerful features to HTML, the one that generates the most questions is Button Actions. The proposal itself is very straightforward: we want to add the action and method attributes to the button.

<button action="/begin" method="GET">Start</button>

Button Actions are such a simple primitive that people often ask why they’re needed. The answer rests on a distinction that web users intuitively understand but rarely have to think about directly: the difference between a button and a link.

I added a detailed “Buttons vs Links” section to the proposal, but I think it deserves a blog-style explanation as well, because most of the existing ones miss the mark.

Buttons have a fixed context

Links represent a destination while buttons represent an action. Functionally, this means that links let users control what context they open in, while buttons don’t.

Web browsers offer countless affordances for re-contextualizing a link. Clicking or tapping the link will navigate the current page to that destination. Mouse users can middle-click the link to open it in a new tab or hover over the link to see where it goes. Context menus (right-click on desktop, long tap on mobile) have lots of link-specific options.

Web users are very familiar with the features that come with links. They know how to open them, copy them, bookmark them, share them with friends, and maintain them in an inadvisable number of browser tabs.

The semantics of a link—the notion that they represent an independently-navigable destination—make it possible for browsers to build all these features. The hyperlink predates the invention of the browser tab, but when browsers added tabs, websites didn’t have to do anything to support them; links represented destinations that could be re-contextualized, so browsers could simply invent a new context for them to open in. Every website instantly got upgraded with a huge new feature.

Buttons have none of these features. By default, they cannot be middle-clicked, control-clicked, or hovered over for more information. Buttons don’t allow you to copy their action the way you can copy the href of a link. Their context menus contain no affordances for saving the action or doing it somewhere else.

These are not omissions, but deliberate choices based on the button’s semantics: buttons trigger actions inside a specific browsing context (almost always the current one). Copying, sharing, bookmarking—these are all features for re-contextualizing the action of a link. Buttons serve a complimentary purpose because they don’t allow for any of that.

When should buttons navigate?

A common misconception is that links are for navigating the page, while buttons are for everything else. This is incorrect on both counts.

Buttons regularly perform navigations. Clicking a logout button navigates the current page to a logged-out one; clicking a “search” button navigates the current page to the query results. Both of these are navigations in the HTML standard. They change the URL, they get logged in the session history, and they load a new page.

And links are often used in situations where they don’t trigger navigations. Relative links can jump around the current page; mailto links can open email clients; download links can save a file to your computer. None of these are navigations, but they are all “destinations” that can be opened, saved, and shared in customizable ways.

Navigations should be represented as buttons when their action happens in a fixed context that is not available to be re-contextualized (e.g. bookmarked, shared, middle-clicked, etc.). A frequent place this comes up is with forms that let you edit something you’ve already saved, like a comment on a website. When you click “Edit”, the website shows you an editable text area with options like this:

Users will easily intuit what each button does:

  • “Save” updates the comment with whatever is in the <textarea>
  • “Save Draft” saves the content of the <textarea> without publishing it
  • “Cancel” closes the editable form
  • “Delete” removes the comment entirely

Should “Cancel” be a link? No! Its job is to close the edit view. Not only does making this a link incorrectly communicate its purpose—visually and otherwise—but it saddles the form “control” with lots of features, like bookmarking and middle-clicking, that have incorrect behavior.

There are many plausible ways these buttons could be implemented, but none of those implementations should present themselves to the user as a link.

What gap do Button Actions fill?

With Button Actions, this entire UX could be implemented with just HTML.

<form action="/comments/123" method="POST">
  <textarea name="content">I had a great day today!</textarea>
  <button>Save</button>
  <button formaction="/comments/123/draft">Save Draft</button>
  <button action="/comments/123" method="GET">Cancel</button>
  <button action="/comments/123" method="DELETE">Delete</button>
</form>

The first two buttons use existing HTML features, the second two buttons are made possible by Button Actions. (I’m also taking advantage of Triptych’s DELETE support, but you could do the URL method hack without it.)

<button action="/" method="GET">Cancel</button>
<button action="/comments/123" method="DELETE">Delete</button>

Philosophically, Button Actions create a generic control that can redraw the current context with a network request. Buttons already have the ability to do this with certain limitations; this proposal removes those limitations.

Practically, this allows web authors to implement state transitions by navigating to views. Those views might even already exist as standalone destinations, in which case authors can trivially re-use existing routes while representing the action correctly in the UI. This is a great pattern that HTML should encourage!

Unfortunately, without Button Actions, erroneously making this button a link is the only way that we have to implement this interface without scripting.

<form action="/comments/123" method="POST">
  <textarea name="content">I had a great day today!</textarea>
  <button>Save</button>
  <button formaction="/comments/123/draft">Save Draft</button>
  <a href="/comments/123" class="button">Cancel</a>
  <button action="/comments/123" method="DELETE">Delete</button>
</form>

This is obviously an anti-pattern, but it’s an anti-pattern supported by major design systems, because buttons lack the ability to do basic navigation without forms. When building a website that works without JavaScript (a requirement for UK government sites), links are the only choice. The US Web Design System (USWDS) even contains an official affordance for it: Add class="usa-button" to a link and it will look like a button.

Making a link look like a button, however, does not make the link behave like a button. USWDS uses JavaScript to implement spacebar activation, but JavaScript can’t do anything about the litany of other behaviors that differentiate buttons from links, like context menus. Links (even those with role=button) will still look like links in reader mode or other custom views. That’s the fundamental consequence of violating HTML semantics—the page will be broken for some users because authors cannot possibly account for all the different ways that people interact with a web page. The web simply wouldn’t work if they had to.

Navigations are the broadest tool that web authors have to control the user experience—HTML just needs to complete the <button>’s ability to trigger them. Doing so makes the web simpler, safer, and more accessible for all.

If you’d like to support the effort, the best way is to like the Button Actions issue on GitHub and share examples of why the proposal would be valuable to you.

Notes

  • Big shoutout to The Django Software Foundation for their support of this proposal!
  • I am currently working on an analysis to demonstrate that Button Actions do not introduce any new XSS vulnerabilities to existing web sites. Supporting this proposal doesn’t resolve that issue, but it does demonstrate to WHATWG that web authors have this need and that it’s worth studying.
  • This blog focuses on buttons that trigger GET requests without forms, because that’s where the overlap with links is, but buttons that trigger unsafe requests without forms are also very useful. DELETE requests are probably the most common use-case, because they usually don’t require any additional data.
  • One interesting case for buttons that trigger POST or PUT requests without a form is “likes” on social sites. HackerNews, for instance, uses links for upvotes, which is in wild violation of HTTP semantics. I understand why they do it though: it’s simpler and works without JavaScript. That’s why it’s necessary to make Button Actions not just possible, but convenient.
  • The proposal addresses all the existing workarounds for the lack of this functionality and explains why they’re not sufficient.
  • The big picture goal with Triptych to is to give web authors a simple and semantic way to model a full CRUD lifecycle in HTML, because that’s all the vast majority of web services need to do.
  • All the Triptych Proposals complement each other—Button Actions are even more useful with additional methods and partial page replacement—but I try to make the case for each one in isolation, both as an anti-logrolling mechanism and because they are genuinely useful on their own.
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emrox
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OpenDerm — Open-source robotic 3D skin imaging

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OpenDerm is an open-source robotic imaging system for creating high-resolution, reproducible 3D maps of the skin. Registered scans help reveal new lesions and identify subtle changes in existing ones.

The hardware designs, software, and build documentation are all openly available.

The OpenDerm prototype: a 3-axis aluminum-extrusion gantry with a DSLR camera on a pan-tilt head at its center, overhead cable chains, and a white electrical cabinet with an emergency stop.

01 / THE PROBLEM

For melanoma, early detection can make the difference between a highly treatable cancer and a life-threatening one.

More than 100,000 Americans are diagnosed with melanoma each year. This form of skin cancer has a five-year relative survival rate of nearly 100% when detected early, but about 34% after it reaches distant parts of the body.1 Approximately 30% of melanomas develop within an existing mole, while 70% appear as new lesions.2 In either case, the earliest visible sign may be small: a millimeter-scale change at the edge of a mole, a localized shift in its color or structure, or a new spot only a few millimeters across. Detecting changes at this scale requires a precise record of the skin’s prior appearance.

For people with many moles, detecting change requires tracking the entire skin surface over time. A clinician can examine the skin during an office visit, but without a standardized photographic baseline, determining whether one spot among hundreds is new or changing can be difficult. Total-body photography can provide this longitudinal record, but access to such systems remains very limited due to high costs and limited clinical evidence that existing systems reliably catch melanoma earlier than dermatologists.34

Improving total-body imaging requires progress in three areas:

01

Higher Resolution Imaging

Many existing total-body photography systems use wide fields of view to capture large areas of skin, but at the expense of fine detail. Detecting subtle changes in a lesion’s boundary, color, or internal structure requires higher-resolution images.

02

Longitudinal datasets

Most AI models for skin-cancer detection are trained on isolated images of lesions already identified as suspicious. These datasets therefore provide little evidence of how melanomas first emerge and evolve before drawing clinical attention. Training models to recognize earlier signs of melanoma will require repeated, high-resolution images of the same skin over time.

03

Frequent, accessible scanning

Total-body photography must become more affordable and widely available. Patients at high risk should be able to receive frequent, standardized scans.

A robotic imaging system offers a practical way to meet these requirements. By moving close to the body and following its contours, the system can maintain consistent distance, angle, focus, and lighting while capturing high-resolution images across the skin surface. Using a single camera with cheap actuators also reduces hardware cost compared with a large array of fixed cameras.

1. National Cancer Institute. SEER Cancer Stat Facts: Melanoma of the Skin. Estimated 2026 incidence; five-year relative survival based on SEER 21 data, 2016–2022.

2. Pampena R, Kyrgidis A, Lallas A, et al. A meta-analysis of nevus-associated melanoma: Prevalence and practical implications. Journal of the American Academy of Dermatology. 2017;77(5):938–945.e4.

3. Soyer HP, Jayasinghe D, Rodriguez-Acevedo AJ, et al. 3D Total-Body Photography in Patients at High Risk for Melanoma: A Randomized Clinical Trial. JAMA Dermatology. 2025;161(5):472–481.

4. Lindsay D, Soyer HP, Janda M, et al. Cost-Effectiveness Analysis of 3D Total-Body Photography for People at High Risk of Melanoma. JAMA Dermatology. 2025;161(5):482–489.

02 / THE HARDWARE

The Robot

OpenDerm is built primarily from off-the-shelf parts. The video below shows the assembled prototype running a capture sequence at 20× speed.

The gantry moves the camera through four degrees of freedom. Three linear axes position the sensor head within the workspace: X travels along the side rails, Y moves across the top beam, and Z sets the camera height. A rotary axis (RX) tilts the sensor head to align the camera with the skin surface.

Front view of the OpenDerm gantry with its four degrees of freedom marked: the X long-travel truck and Y cross-travel beam, the Z vertical column, and the RX pan axis at the sensor head.

X Long travel Y Cross travel Z Vertical travel RX Pan rotation OpenDerm · 4-DOF gantry

The sensor head carries a Canon EOS R7 with an RF 100 mm macro lens, a Godox MF-R76 ring flash fitted with a cross-polarization filter that reduces specular glare, and two downward-facing laser distance sensors. The distance measurements allow the control system to maintain a consistent working distance and camera orientation relative to the skin.

Close-up of the OpenDerm sensor head: a Canon EOS R7 body, a Canon RF 100mm macro lens, a Godox MF-R76 flash with cross-polarization filter, and two downward-facing laser distance sensors.

Canon EOS R7 Canon RF 100mm lens Godox MF-R76 Flash +Cross Polarization Filter ×2 laser distance sensors OpenDerm · sensor head

03 / THE SCANS

High-resolution skin imaging

Native-resolution crop of a mole showing its pigment network and individual hairs 5 mm

OpenDerm captures skin at 78 pixels per millimeter, resolving details such as a mole’s pigment network and nearby individual hairs. In the interactive viewer, you can explore two registered 3D scans and inspect the lesions measured and matched across them.

HOW IT WORKS

How OpenDerm builds a 3D skin map

At each imaging station, the robot uses two laser sensors to control the camera’s angle and working distance before capturing a high-resolution photograph. The complete pipeline then aligns the overlapping images and reconstructs them as one continuous surface.

See the full process

EOS R7 + macro lens

rx tilt joint

laser #1

laser #2

laser beams · 110 mm standoff

one frame · 91 × 61 mm

skin

04 / COMPARE APPROACHES

High-resolution imaging at a lower cost

Total-body photography remains an emerging field, with limited clinical availability in the United States and many systems still experimental or under development. Three main approaches have emerged for imaging large areas of skin: wide-field total-body photography, close-range robotic scanning, and guided smartphone imaging. Each involves different trade-offs in speed, detail, consistency, footprint, and cost.

OpenDerm captures skin at 78 pixels per millimeter using less than $8,500 in hardware. It is fully open source and provides some of the highest-resolution imaging available at a fraction of the cost of commercial total-body photography systems.

Approach 01

Wide-field total-body photography

Wide-field systems photograph large areas of the body from a distance, either with an array of fixed cameras or a single camera repositioned automatically between views. They provide standardized whole-body records, but individual lesions may require separate close-up or dermoscopic imaging.

SecondsWide-field detail$$$

Examples: Neko · Canfield VECTRA · DermSpectra · FotoFinder

Wide-field capture · fixed-array example

Approach 02

Close-range robotic scanners

A high-resolution camera mounted on a robotic arm or gantry moves close to the skin and systematically across the body while maintaining a controlled distance and viewing angle. Imaging the skin region by region allows a single camera to capture much finer detail than a distant wide-field system, while requiring less space and camera hardware. The trade-off is speed: the body must be scanned sequentially rather than all at once.

MinutesHigh-resolution detail$$

Examples: SquareMind · iToBoS · OpenDerm

Robotic scanner · one moving camera

Approach 03

Guided smartphone imaging

A smartphone application guides a patient, caregiver, or clinician through a standardized series of photographs. This approach requires little dedicated hardware and can be deployed almost anywhere. Its main limitations are image resolution and consistency: lighting, distance, pose, framing, and focus can vary between scans, making subtle longitudinal changes more difficult to measure reliably.

ManualVariable detailNo dedicated hardware$

Examples: SkinIO · MoleMap · Miiskin

Phone & app · guided capture

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emrox
9 hours ago
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Thinking Outside The Box: Digital Design In The AI Era

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This article is a sponsored by MacPaw

The phrase “artificial intelligence” has many excited, especially those in tech. But for those of us in creative fields like digital art and design, AI can be more concerning than it is exciting.

AI-generated art, videos, and images have flooded the internet, raising questions about whether more companies will turn to tools like OpenAI’s Dall-E, Midjourney, Leonardo.ai, and more, rather than employing human artists. What’s more, the fact that these AI models are trained on real artists’ work without their consent leaves many feeling as if they have no choice but to accept AI into their work and lives.

In a digital world increasingly dominated by faceless AI chatbots, agents, and features, it can be easy to get overwhelmed by all the technology. AI will certainly play a huge role in reshaping many industries, including design. We can’t deny this. But at the same time, humanization, empathy, and having a person at the wheel have never been more important.

Rather than viewing AI as something that replaces human creativity, we at MacPaw saw an opportunity to explore how we could make AI feel more personal and accessible — all the while keeping humans at the center of the experience. That led us to rethink how AI assistants are created.

The Concept Of A New AI Assistant

Traditional AI assistants like Claude and ChatGPT typically take the form of a conversational textbox or webpage on screen, as this is how users have interacted with their devices. It’s comfortable and familiar. While extremely useful for a variety of tasks, interacting with these AI assistants can feel transactional and technical.

Using the same textbox format across all AI assistants does provide consistency. But we wanted to create a new, more personal and differentiated experience for users. But what format would be best? Even if we change how an AI tool looks, it still needs to be useful and intuitive to use.

As humans, it’s easier to understand and connect with things that resemble us. This is why we often find ourselves drawn to things like animals and characters: they have traits that we recognize within ourselves. Understanding this, we saw an opportunity to combine these values: utility and personality.

The Importance Of Character In Design

Enter Eney: a new proactive AI assistant. MacPaw didn’t want Eney to simply be another AI tool for users, but rather one that proactively assists within a user’s workflow. The vision was to help users connect with Eney more easily than with other AI tools, so we decided to create a character users could interact with. We wanted Eney to be expressive, friendly, and to emote as humans do. But we needed to strike an important balance: making Eney cheerful without it being overly goofy or childish.

This is where human animation and intervention played a critical role. While challenging, it was crucial because an overloaded character UI could turn users off and make navigating Eney difficult. To avoid this, the design team chose to create a select set of emotions and gestures for Eney to express, ensuring that its expressions conveyed useful information. For example, when working on a task, Eney’s figure resembles a loading icon. To do this, we worked to reduce Eney’s on-screen movement to make sure it wasn’t distracting or excessive.

After exploring a few different shapes and styles for Eney, we settled on a circular figure, as it felt the most approachable. It was simple and helped create the feeling of a calm, floating digital companion, rather than another rigid interface element on a user’s desktop. Eney’s minimal face design also plays an important role in connecting with the user. Its eyes are the main emotional connector — a key feature in showing emotions without being cartoonish.

The color choice for Eney was also important. Many AI assistants and companies use blue in their products, as it’s typically associated with intelligence. Blue is a great color, but we wanted Eney to stand out. We still wanted the color to be warm and inviting while slightly more visually stimulating, which led us to choose the color pink. Among dozens of other AI products that choose a more blue aesthetic, Eney was designed to catch a user’s eye and stand out in their mind (and on their screen).

All in all, we wanted to create a character that was present but not attention-seeking; a warm and supportive digital helper that enhances a user’s workflow rather than distracts from it. Eney’s character gives personality to otherwise invisible processes.

Artists In The AI Era

While those who aren’t design professionals may assume there wasn’t much significance behind Eney’s character creation, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Like many other products, all these elements — style, design, emotion, size, name, and more — were intentionally chosen, not by machines but by humans.

Even though AI has streamlined many design processes, namely enabling faster design, there are still many things it can’t do well. Even when designing Eney, while technology supported the process, human designers controlled every step and decision.

As designers, it’s more important than ever to have good judgment, artistic direction, integrity, and emotional sensitivity when working in the field. Technology like AI can help us work faster, but it can’t replace the values that inspire and shape our work.

What’s more, while anyone can easily generate something by typing a prompt into an AI image tool, there’s a true beauty and talent when intentionally crafting something through manual design.

As designers, we shouldn’t stray away from the latest tools. Rather, we should learn them and see how they could potentially help us within our creative workflows. Personally, I like to use AI tools such as Perplexity and ChatGPT for research purposes in the early stages. However, we need to remember that they’re just that: tools. At the end of the day, technology like AI cannot, and should not, replace human artistry. It should help us express our visions, not replace us entirely.

If there’s one thing to take away from this piece, it’s that curiosity helps build taste over time, and taste becomes more valuable, not less, in the AI era.



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Does every question mark deserve a Betteridge?

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To blog is to get dunked on. I accept this. I even sometimes wonder if I should be grateful, as I suspect my willingness to get dunked on may represent a kind of comparative advantage. (You can tell yourself that if you try to placate the haters, you’ll just ruin things for people who like you. But how do you feel when you’re staring down barrel of a 127 comment thread full of people debating how it’s possible that you’re such an idiot?)

Still, there’s one particular species of dunking that puzzles me. For context, Betteridge’s law states:1

Any headline that ends in a question mark can be answered by the word no.

This is often employed as a sick burn, as in, You titled your article ‘Is this the world’s first gay caveman?’ because it’s not the world’s first gay caveman but you wanted it to be, because you want attention, you are so bad, har-har.

But I don’t quite understand the rules. Can someone explain the rules?

Question 1: Are question marks in titles always bad?

I’m just checking. I suppose I could see the logic, e.g. if you strongly feel that the bottom line should always come right up front. But I’m pretty sure that’s not the rule, because “this title used a question mark” is not regarded as a sick burn.

Question 2: Are question marks only OK if the essay ends with a full-throated “yes”?

Sometimes it does seem like this is the rule. But it’s strange. If it were universally enforced, we could all mentally convert “Do blue-blocking glasses improve sleep?” into “Yes, blue-blocking glasses really do improve sleep!” But then, of what use was the question mark? Why not just say they’re always bad?

If we’re going to allow questions that are actual questions, then it has to be possible for the answer to sometimes be something other than yes. On the other hand…

Question 3: Is Betteridge’s law useful at all?

I think so. At minimum, you can think of it as a convenient label for this theory:

  1. Traditionally, news articles are written with the bottom line up front.
  2. Traditionally, news articles have incentives to make a clear affirmative statement in the headline.
  3. So if a news article uses a question, that’s because they couldn’t justify making a clear affirmative statement.

I don’t think this theory is 100% accurate. But it’s accurate enough to deserve a name. (On the whole, more theories should have names.) Still, Betteridge’s law isn’t usually invoked as a neutral observation about the forces that led to a given title. It’s usually invoked as a dunk. So…

Question 4: Is Betteridge dunking ever appropriate?

Again, I think it is. Here are some of the best/worst examples from John Rentoul’s book, “Questions to Which the Answer Is No!”:

  • “Will Guam capsize?”
  • “Is Osama Bin Laden in Chicago?”
  • “Did Jesus foresee the US Constitution?”
  • “Des smartphones bientôt équipés d’airbags?”

I think we can agree something is wrong with these. But what, exactly?

Question 5: Is it central that the answer is “no”?

Consider these made-up titles:

  • “Is the Pope still Catholic?”
  • “Do you need to sleep every day?”
  • “Did Lincoln have personal qualms about slavery?”
  • “Did the Rubicon even exist back when Caesar supposedly crossed it?”

These are anti-Betteridges. The answer is yes, but the title is irritating in the same way: It gives the impression of a live debate when none exists.

Question 6: What’s really going on here?

I think it’s pretty clear. Consider the title:

Is aspartame bad for you?

If you understood it to be a settled question that aspartame is safe, and the article ultimately concludes that aspartame is safe, then you might find that title annoying. On the other hand, if you understood it to be settled that aspartame is bad for you, and the article confirms that yes indeed it is bad for you, then you also might find that title annoying.

The answer is immaterial. What’s irritating is when a title suggests a novel, interesting possibility that the article does not substantiate as worthy of attention.

Question 7: So what’s the problem?

Here’s a proposition: The modern internet rewards people for being overconfident. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people with blogs are not constrained by the norms of traditional newspapers. On the contrary, if you start a blog, you will soon learn that the best way to get attention is to write spicy aggressive titles like, “No, creatine does not make you smarter despite what all the stupid dumb mouth-breathing supplement hucksters may tell you.”

Now, I do think you should say what you actually believe. If you truly are that confident, I want you to tell me, not bullshit me by pretending to be neutral.

However, the internet corrupts all of us. Many people seem to start out with a public persona that is careful and measured and calm. But over time, they’re gradually sculpted by the Reward Function into something quite different. The degree this happens depends on your personality, where you’re competing for attention2 and how much you try to resist. But I don’t think anyone is truly above this.

Still, we should try to resist. My favorite kind of essay is, “Lucid examination of all sides of an issue which finds some evidence pointing in various directions and doesn’t reach a definitive conclusion because the world is complicated.” And I think the fundamental goal of a title should be to accurately signal the contents. But how is such an essay supposed to signal what it is, if not by using a question?

Question 8: What should a title do?

One theory is that question titles are sort of like lists: A thing with strong fundamental merits that has been rendered suspicious by abuse. Under this theory, we should push back against all the Betteridgeing and insist that question titles are fine when the question is genuinely open, regardless of the answer, and that people are wrong to Betteridge unless the question mark is being abused.

As far as I can tell, that’s the only internally consistent theory that doesn’t amount to saying that question titles should be forbidden. A slightly more conciliatory version would be that if you use a question mark, it’s your responsibility to demonstrate that it’s a real question, not something you made up.

I lean towards that theory. But part of me—a minority—thinks that perhaps question titles should be effectively forbidden. I thought I’d do a little reductio ad absurdum by trying to give this post an accurate non-question title. The best things I could think of were, “Hesitantly against over-broad Betteridge dunking” and “I weakly think excessive Betteridge dunking disincentivizes fairly examining all sides of an issue.” At first, I thought those were amusingly terrible. But are they, really?

PS. Was Rentoul’s book correct to list, “Should we clone Neanderthals?” as an example of a question to which the answer is no?

  1. Implicitly, this applies only to yes/no questions. “How long should you brew your tea?” should not be answered with “no”. 

  2. Hi Twitter. 



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Meaning of Life

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Meaning of Life

And more cats.

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