Digifesto

Some research questions

Last week was so interesting. Some weeks you just get exposed to so many different ideas that it’s trouble to integrate them. I tried to articulate what’s been coming up as a result. It’s several difficult questions.

  • Assuming trust is necessary for effective context management, how does one organize sociotechnical systems to provide social equity in a sustainable way?
  • Assuming an ecology of scientific practices, what are appropriate selection mechanisms (or criteria)? Are they transcendent or immanent?
  • Given the contradictory character of emotional reality, how can psychic integration occur without rendering one dead or at least very boring?
  • Are there limitations of the computational paradigm imposed by data science as an emerging pan-constructivist practice coextensive with the limits of cognitive or phenomenological primitives?

Some notes:

  • I think that two or three of these questions above may be in essence the same question. In that they can be formalized into the same mathematical problem, and the solution is the same in each case.
  • I really do have to read Isabelle Stengers and Nancy Nersessian. Based on the signals I’m getting, they seem to be the people most on top of their game in terms of understanding how science happens.
  • I’ve been assuming that trust relations are interpersonal but I suppose they can be interorganizational as well, or between a person and an organization. This gets back to a problem I struggle with in a recurring way: how do you account for causal relationships between a macro-organism (like an organization or company) and a micro-organism? I think it’s when there are entanglements between these kinds of entities that we are inclined to call something an “ecosystem”, though I learned recently that this use of the term bothers actual ecologists (no surprise there). The only things I know about ecology are from reading Ulanowicz papers, but those have been so on point and beautiful that I feel I can proceed with confidence anyway.
  • I don’t think there’s any way to get around having at least a psychological model to work with when looking at these sorts of things. A recurring an promising angle is that of psychic integration. Carl Jung, who has inspired clinical practices that I can personally vouch for, and Gregory Bateson both understood the goal of personal growth to be integration of disparate elements. I’ve learned recently from Turner’s The Democratic Surround that Bateson was a more significant historical figure than I thought, unless Turner’s account of history is a glorification of intellectuals that appeal to him, which is entirely possible. Perhaps more importantly to me, Bateson inspired Ulanowicz, and so these theories are compatible; Bateson was also a cyberneticist following Wiener, who was prescient and either foundational to contemporary data science or a good articulator of its roots. But there is also a tie-in to constructivist epistemology. DiSessa’s epistemology, building on Piaget but embracing what he calls the computational metaphor, understands the learning of math and physics as the integration of phenomenological primitives.
  • The purpose of all this is ultimately protocol design.
  • This does not pertain directly to my dissertation, though I think it’s useful orienting context.

Discovering Thomas Sowell #blacklivesmatter

If you come up with a lot of wrong ideas and pay a price for it, you are forced to think about it and change your ways or else be eliminated. But there is no such test. The only test for most intellectuals is whether other intellectuals go along with them. And if they all have a wrong idea, then it becomes invincible.

On Sunday night I walked restlessly through the streets of Berkeley while news helicopters circled overhead and sirens wailed. For the second night in a row I saw lines of militarized police. Texting with a friend who had participated in the protests the night before about how he was assaulted by the cops, I walked down Shattuck counting smashed shop windows. I discovered a smoldering dumpster. According to Bernt Wahl, who I bumped into outside of a shattered RadioShack storefront, there had been several fires started around the city; he was wielding a fire extinguisher, advising people to walk the streets to prevent further looting.

The dramatic events around me and the sincere urgings of many deeply respected friends that I join the public outcry against racial injustice made me realize that I could no longer withhold judgment on the Brown and Garner cases and the responses to them. I have reserved my judgment, unwilling to follow the flow of events as told play-by-play by journalists because, frankly, I don’t trust them. As I was discussing this morning with somebody in my lab, real journalism takes time. You have to interview people, assemble facts. That’s not how things are being done around these highly sensitive and contentious issues. In The Democratic Surround, Fred Turner writes about how in the history of the United States, psychologists and social scientists once thought the principal mechanism by which fascism spread was through the mass media’s skillful manipulation of their audience’s emotions. Out of their concern for mobilizing the American people to fight World War II, the state sponsored a new kind of domestic media strategy that aimed to give its audience the grounds to come to its own rational conclusions. That media strategy sustained what we now call “the greatest generation.” These principles seem to be lacking in journalism today.

I am a social scientist, so when I started to investigate the killings thoroughly, the first thing I wanted to see was numbers. Specifically, I wanted to know the comparative rates of police killings broken down by race so I could understand the size of the problem. The first article I found on this subject was Jack Kelly’s article in Real Clear Politics, which I do not recommend you read. It is not a sensitively written piece and some of the sources and arguments he uses signal, to me, a conservative bias.

What I do highly recommend you read are two of Kelly’s sources, which he doesn’t link to but which are both in my view excellent. One is Pro Publica’s research into the data about police violence and the killings of young men. It gave me a sense of proportion I needed to understand the problems at hand.

Thomas Sowell

The other is this article on Michael Brown published last Saturday by Thomas Sowell, who has just skyrocketed to the top of my list of highly respected people. Sowell is far more accomplished than I will ever be and of much humbler origins. He is a military veteran and apparently a courageous scholar. He is now Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution at Stanford University. Though I am at UC Berkeley and say this very grudgingly, as I write this blog post I am slowly coming to understand that Stanford might be a place of deep and sincere intellectual inquiry, not just the preprofessional school spitting out entrepreneurial drones whose caricature I had come to believe.

Sowell’s claim is that the grand jury has determined that Brown was guilty of assaulting the officer who shot him, that this judgment was based on the testimony of several black witnesses. He notes the tragedy of the riots related to the event and accuses the media of misrepresenting the facts.

So far I have no reason to doubt Sowell’s sober analysis of the Brown case. From what I’ve heard, the Garner case is more horrific and I have not yet had the stomach to work my way through its complexities. Instead I’ve looked more into Sowell’s scholarly work. I recommend watching this YouTube video of him discussing his book Intellectuals and Race in full.

I don’t agree with everything in this video, and not just because much of what Sowell says is the sort of thing I “can’t say”. I find the interviewer too eager in his guiding questions. I think Sowell does not give enough credence to the prison industrial complex and ignores the recent empirical work on the value of diversity–I’m thinking of Scott Page’s work in particular. But Sowell makes serious and sincere arguments about race and racism with a rare historical awareness. In particular, he is critical of the role of intellectuals in making race relations in the U.S. worse. As an intellectual myself, I think it’s important to pay attention to this criticism.

Notes on The Democratic Surround; managerialism

I’ve been greatly enjoying Fred Turner’s The Democratic Surround partly because it cuts through a lot of ideological baggage with smart historical detail. It marks a turn, perhaps, in what intellectuals talk about. The critical left has been hung up on neoliberalism for decades while the actual institutions that are worth criticizing have moved on. It’s nice to see a new name for what’s happening. That new name is managerialism.

Managerialism is a way to talk about what Facebook and the Democratic Party and everybody else providing a highly computationally tuned menu of options is doing without making the mistake of using old metaphors of control to talk about a new thing.

Turner is ambivalent about managerialism perhaps because he’s at Stanford and so occupies an interesting position in the grand intellectual matrix. He’s read his Foucault, he explains when he speaks in public, though he is sometimes criticized for not being critical enough. I think ‘critical’ intellectuals may find him confusing because he’s not deploying the same ‘critical’ tropes that have been used since Adorno even though he’s writing sometimes about Adorno. He is optimistic, or at least writes optimistically about the past, or at least writes about the past in a way that isn’t overtly scathing which is just more upbeat than a lot of writing nowadays.

Managerialism is, roughly, the idea of technocratically bounded space of complex interactive freedom as a principle of governance or social organization. In The Democratic Surround, he is providing a historical analysis of a Bauhaus-initiated multimedia curation format, the ‘surround’, to represent managerialist democracy in the same way Foucault provided a historical analysis of the Panopticon to represent surveillance. He is attempting to implant a new symbol into the vocabulary of political and social thinkers that we can use to understand the world around us while giving it a rich and subtle history that expands our sense of its possibilities.

I’m about halfway through the book. I love it. If I have a criticism of it it’s that everything in it is a managerialist surround and sometimes his arguments seems a bit stretched. For example, here’s his description of how John Cage’s famous 4’33” is a managerialist surround:

With 4’33”, as with Theater Piece #1, Cage freed sounds, performers, and audiences alike from the tyrannical wills of musical dictators. All tensions–between composer, performer, and audience; between sound and music; between the West and the East–had dissolved. Even as he turned away from what he saw as more authoritarian modes of composition and performance, though, Cage did not relinquish all control of the situation. Rather, he acted as an aesthetic expert, issuing instructions that set the parameters for action. Even as he declined the dictator’s baton, Cage took up a version of the manager’s spreadsheet and memo. Thanks to his benevolent instructions, listeners and music makers alike became free to hear the world as it was and to know themselves in that moment. Sounds and people became unified in their diversity, free to act as they liked, within a distinctly American musical universe–a universe finally freed of dictators, but not without order.

I have two weaknesses as a reader. One is a soft spot for wicked vitriol. Another is an intolerance of rhetorical flourish. The above paragraph is rhetorical flourish that doesn’t make sense. Saying that 4’33” is a manager’s spreadsheet is just about the most nonsensical metaphor I could imagine. In a universe with only fascists and managerialists, then I guess 4’33” is more like a memo. But there are so many more apt musical metaphors for unification in diversity in music. For example, a blues or jazz band playing a standard. Literally any improvisational musical form. No less quintessentially American.

If you bear with me and agree that this particular point is poorly argued and that John Cage wasn’t actually a managerialist and was in fact the Zen spiritualist that he claimed to be in his essays, then either Turner is equating managerialism with Zen spiritualism or Turner is trying to make Cage a symbol of managerialism for his own ideological ends.

Either of these is plausible. Steve Jobs was an I Ching enthusiast like Cage. Stewart Brand, the subject of Turner’s last book, From Counterculture to Cyberculture, was a back-to-land commune enthusiast before he become a capitalist digerati hero. Running through Turner’s work is the demonstration of the cool origins of today’s world that’s run by managerialist power. We are where we are today because democracy won against fascism. We are where we are today because hippies won against whoever. Sort of. Turner is also frank about capitalist recuperation of everything cool. But this is not so bad. Startups are basically like co-ops–worker owned until the VC’s get too involved.

I’m a tech guy, sort of. It’s easy for me to read my own ambivalence about the world we’re in today into Turner’s book. I’m cool, right? I like interesting music and read books on intellectual history and am tolerant of people despite my connections to power, right? Managers aren’t so bad. I’ve been a manager. They are necessary. Sometimes they are benevolent and loved. That’s not bad, right? Maybe everything is just fine because we have a mode of social organization that just makes more sense now than what we had before. It’s a nice happy medium between fascism, communism, anarchism, and all the other extreme -ism’s that plagued the 20th century with war. People used to starve to death or kill each other en masse. Now they complain about bad management or, more likely, bad customer service. They complain as if the bad managers are likely to commit a war crime at any minute but that’s because their complaints would sound so petty and trivial if they were voiced without the use of tropes that let us associate poor customer service with deliberate mind-control propaganda or industrial wage slavery. We’ve forgotten how to complain in a way that isn’t hyperbolic.

Maybe it’s the hyperbole that’s the real issue. Maybe a managerialist world lacks catastrophe and so is so frickin’ boring that we just don’t have the kinds of social crises that a generation of intellectuals trained in social criticism have been prepared for. Maybe we talk about how things are “totally awesome!” and totally bad because nothing really is that good or that bad and so our field of attention has contracted to the minute, amplifying even the faintest signal into something significant. Case in point, Alex from Target. Under well-tuned managerialism, the only thing worth getting worked up about is that people are worked up about something. Even if it’s nothing. That’s the news!

So if there’s a critique of managerialism, it’s that it renders the managed stupid. This is a problem.

textual causation

A problem that’s coming up for me as a data scientist is the problem of textual causation.

There has been significant interesting research into the problem of extracting causal relationships between things in the world from text about those things. That’s an interesting problem but not the problem I am talking about.

I am talking about the problem of identifying when a piece of text has been the cause of some event in the world. So, did the State of the Union address affect the stock prices of U.S. companies? Specifically, did the text of the State of the Union address affect the stock price? Did my email cause my company to be more productive? Did specifically what I wrote in the email make a difference?

A trivial example of textual causation (if I have my facts right–maybe I don’t) is the calculation of Twitter trending topics. Millions of users write text. That text is algorithmically scanned and under certain conditions, Twitter determines a topic to be trending and displays it to more users through its user interface, which also uses text. The user interface text causes thousands more users to look at what people are saying about the topic, increasing the causal impact of the original text. And so on.

These are some challenges to understanding the causal impact of text:

  • Text is an extraordinarily high-dimensional space with tremendous irregularity in distribution of features.
  • Textual events are unique not just because the probability of any particular utterance is so low, but also because the context of an utterance is informed by all the text prior to it.
  • For the most part, text is generated by a process of unfathomable complexity and interpreted likewise.
  • A single ‘piece’ of text can appear and reappear in multiple contexts as distinct events.

I am interested in whether it is possible to get a grip on textual causation mathematically and with machine learning tools. Bayesian methods theoretically can help with the prediction of unique events. And the Pearl/Rubin model of causation is well integrated with Bayesian methods. But is it possible to use the Pearl/Rubin model to understand unique events? The methodological uses of Pearl/Rubin I’ve seen are all about establishing type causation between independent occurrences. Textual causation appears to be as a rule a kind of token causation in a deeply integrated contextual web.

Perhaps this is what makes the study of textual causation uninteresting. If it does not generalize, then it is difficult to monetize. It is a matter of historical or cultural interest.

But think about all the effort that goes into communication at, say, the operational level of an organization. How many jobs require “excellent communication skills.” A great deal of emphasis is placed not only on that communication happens, but how people communicate.

One way to approach this is using the tools of linguistics. Linguistics looks at speech and breaks it down into components and structures that can be scientifically analyzed. It can identify when there are differences in these components and structures, calling these differences dialects or languages.

analysis of content vs. analysis of distribution of media

A theme that keeps coming up for me in work and conversation lately is the difference between analysis of the content of media and analysis of the distribution of media.

Analysis of content looks for the tropes, motifs, psychological intentions, unconscious historical influences, etc. of the media. Over Thanksgiving a friend of mine was arguing that the Scorpions were a dog whistle to white listeners because that band made a deliberate move to distance themselves from influence of black music on rock. Contrast this with Def Leppard. He reached this conclusion based by listening carefully to the beats and contextualizing them in historical conversations that were happening at the time.

Analysis of distribution looks at information flow and the systemic channels that shape it. How did the telegraph change patterns of communication? How did television? Radio? The Internet? Google? Facebook? Twitter? Ello? Who is paying for the distribution of this media? How far does the signal reach?

Each of these views is incomplete. Just as data underdetermines hypotheses, media underdetermines its interpretation. In both cases, a more complete understanding of the etiology of the data/media is needed to select between competing hypotheses. We can’t truly understand content unless we understand the channels through which it passes.

Analysis of distribution is more difficult than analysis of content because distribution is less visible. It is much easier to possess and study data/media than it is to possess and study the means of distribution. The means of distribution are a kind of capital. Those that study it from the outside must work hard to get anything better than a superficial view of it. Those on the inside work hard to get a deep view of it that stays up to date.

Part of the difficulty of analysis of distribution is that the system of distribution depends on the totality of information passing through it. Communication involves the dynamic engagement of both speakers and an audience. So a complete analysis of distribution must include an analysis of content for every piece of implicated content.

One thing that makes the content analysis necessary for analysis of distribution more difficult than what passes for content analysis simpliciter is that the former needs to take into account incorrect interpretation. Suppose you were trying to understand the popularity of Fascist propaganda in pre-WWII Germany and were interested in how the state owned the mass media channels. You could initially base your theory simply on how people were getting bombarded by the same information all the time. But you would at some point need to consider how the audience was reacting. Was it stirring feelings of patriotic national identity? Did they experience communal feelings with others sharing similar opinions? As propaganda provided interpretations of Shakespeare saying he was secretly a German and denunciation of other works as “degenerate art”, did the audience believe this content analysis? Did their belief in the propaganda allow them to continue to endorse the systems of distribution in which they took part?

This shows how the question of how media is interpreted is a political battle fought by many. Nobody fighting these battles is an impartial scientist. Since one gets an understanding of the means of distribution through impartial science, and since this understanding of the means of distribution is necessary for correct content analysis, we can dismiss most content analysis as speculative garbage, from a scientific perspective. What this kind of content analysis is instead is art. It can be really beautiful and important art.

On the other hand, since distribution analysis depends on the analysis of every piece of implicated content, distribution analysis is ultimately hopeless without automated methods for content analysis. This is one reason why machine learning techniques for analyzing text, images, and video are such a hot research area. While the techniques for optimizing supply chain logistics (for example) are rather old, the automated processing of media is a more subtle problem precisely because it involves the interpretation and reinterpretation by finite subjects.

By “finite subject” here I mean subjects that are inescapably limited by the boundaries of their own perspective. These limits are what makes their interpretation possible and also what makes their interpretation incomplete.

things I’ve been doing while not looking at twitter

Twitter was getting me down so I went on a hiatus. I’m still on that hiatus. Instead of reading Twitter, I’ve been:

  • Reading Fred Turner’s The Democratic Surround. This is a great book about the relationship between media and democracy. Since a lot of my interest in Twitter has been because of my interest in the media and democracy, this gives me those kinds of jollies without the soap opera trainwreck of actually participating in social media.
  • Going to arts events. There was a staging of Rhinoceros at Berkeley. It’s an absurdist play in which a small French village is suddenly stricken by an epidemic wherein everybody is transformed into a rhinoceros. It’s probably an allegory for the rise of Communism or Fascism but the play is written so that it’s completely ambiguous. Mainly it’s about conformity in general, perhaps ideological conformity but just as easily about conformity to non-ideology, to a state of nature (hence, the animal form, rhinoceros.) It’s a good play.
  • I’ve been playing Transistor. What an incredible game! The gameplay is appealingly designed and original, but beyond that it is powerfully written an atmospheric. In many ways it can be read as a commentary on the virtual realities of the Internet and the problems with them. Somehow there was more media attention to GamerGate than to this one actually great game. Too bad.
  • I’ve been working on papers, software, and research in anticipation of the next semester. Lots of work to do!

Above all, what’s great about unplugging from social media is that it isn’t actually unplugging at all. Instead, you can plug into a smarter, better, deeper world of content where people are more complex and reasonable. It’s elevating!

I’m writing this because some time ago it was a matter of debate whether or not you can ‘just quit Facebook’ etc. It turns out you definitely can and it’s great. Go for it!

(Happy to respond to comments but won’t respond to tweets until back from the hiatus)

prediction and computational complexity

To the extent that an agent is predictable, it must be:

  • observable, and
  • have a knowable internal structure

The first implies that the predictor has collected data emitted by the agent.

The second implies that the agent has internal structure and that the predictor has the capacity to represent the internal structure of the other agent.

In general, we can say that people do not have the capacity to explicitly represent other people very well. People are unpredictable to each other. This is what makes us free. When somebody is utterly predictable to us, their rigidity is a sign of weakness or stupidity. They are following a simple algorithm.

We are able to model the internal structure of worms with available computing power.

As we build more and more powerful predictive systems, we can ask: is our internal structure in principle knowable by this powerful machine?

This is different from the question of whether or not the predictive machine has data from which to draw inferences. Though of course the questions are related in their implications.

I’ve tried to make progress on modeling this with limited success. Spiros has just told me about binary decision diagrams which are a promising lead.

objective properties of text and robot scientists

One problem with having objectivity as a scientific goal is that it may be humanly impossible.

One area where this comes up is in the reading of a text. To read is to interpret, and it is impossible to interpret without bringing ones own concepts and experience to bear on the interpretation. This introduces partiality.

This is one reason why Digital Humanities are interesting. In Digital Humanities, one is using only the objective properties of the text–its data as a string of characters and its metadata. Semantic analysis is reduced to a study of a statistical distribution over words.

An odd conclusion: the objective scientific subject won’t be a human intelligence at all. It will need to be a robot. Its concepts may never be interpretable by humans because any individual human is too small-minded or restricted in their point of view to understand the whole.

Looking at the history of cybernetics, artificial intelligence, and machine learning, we can see the progression of a science dedicated to understanding the abstract properties of an idealized, objective learner. That systems such as these underly the infrastructure we depend on for the organization of society is a testament to their success.

A troubling dilemma

I’m troubling over the following dilemma:

On the one hand, serendipitous exposure to views unlike your own is good, because that increases the breadth of perspective that’s available to you. You become more cosmopolitan and tolerant.

On the other hand, exposure to views that are hateful, stupid, or evil can be bad, because this can be hurtful, misinforming, or disturbing. Broadly, content can harm.

So, suppose you are deciding what to expose yourself to, or others to, either directly or through the design of some information system.

This requires making a judgment about whether exposure to that perspective will be good or bad.

How is it possible to make that judgment without already having been exposed to it?

Put another way, filter bubbles are sometimes good and sometimes bad. How can you tell the difference, from within a bubble, about whether bridging to another bubble is worthwhile? How could you tell from outside of a bubble? Is there a way to derive this from the nature of bubbles in the abstract?

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