Digifesto

Tag: philosophy

metaphysics and politics

In almost any contemporary discussion of politics, today’s experts will tell you that metaphysics is irrelevant.

This is because we are discouraged today from taking a truly totalizing perspective–meaning, a perspective that attempts to comprehend the totality of what’s going on.

Academic work on politics is specialized. It focuses on a specific phenomenon, or issue, or site. This is partly due to the limits of what it is possible to work on responsibly. It is also partly due to the limitations of agency. A grander view of politics isn’t useful for any particular agent; they need only the perspective that best serves them. Blind spots are necessary for agency.

But universalist metaphysics is important for politics precisely because if there is a telos to politics, it is peace, and peace is a condition of the totality.

And while a situated agent may have no need for metaphysics because they are content with the ontology that suits them, situated agents cannot alone make any guarantees of peace.

In order for an agent to act effectively in the interest of total societal conditions, they require an ontology which is not confined by their situation, which will encode those habits of thought necessary for maintaining their situation as such.

What motivates the study of metaphysics then? A motivation is that it provides one with freedom from ones situation.

This freedom is a political accomplishment, and it also has political effects.

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Ethnography, philosophy, and data anonymization

The other day at BIDS I was working at my laptop when a rather wizardly looking man in a bicycle helmet asked me when The Hacker Within would be meeting. I recognized him from a chance conversation in an elevator after Anca Dragan’s ICBS talk the previous week. We had in that brief moment connected over the fact that none of the bearded men in the elevator had remembered to press the button for the ground floor. We had all been staring off into space before a young programmer with a thin mustache pointed out our error.

Engaging this amicable fellow, whom I will leave anonymous, the conversation turned naturally towards principles for life. I forget how we got onto the topic, but what I took away from the conversation was his advice: “Don’t turn your passion into your job. That’s like turning your lover into a wh***.”

Scholars in the School of Information are sometimes disparaging of the Data-Information-Knowledge-Wisdom hierarchy. Scholars, I’ve discovered, are frequently disparaging of ideas that are useful, intuitive, and pertinent to action. One cannot continue to play the Glass Bead Game if it has already been won any more than one can continue to be entertained by Tic Tac Toe once one has grasped its ineluctable logic.

We might wonder, as did Horkheimer, when the search and love of wisdom ceased to be the purpose of education. It may have come during the turn when philosophy was determined to be irrelevant, speculative or ungrounded. This perhaps coincided, in the United States, with McCarthyism. This is a question for the historians.

What is clear now is that philosophy per se is not longer considered relevant to scientific inquiry.

An ethnographer I know (who I will leave anonymous) told me the other day that the goal of Science and Technology Studies is to answer questions from philosophy of science with empirical observation. An admirable motivation for this is that philosophy of science should be grounded in the true practice of science, not in idle speculation about it. The ethnographic methods, through which observational social data is collected and then compellingly articulated, provide a kind of persuasiveness that for many far surpasses the persuasiveness of a priori logical argument, let alone authority.

And yet the authority of ethnographic writing depends always on the socially constructed role of the ethnographer, much like the authority of the physicist depends on their socially constructed role as physicists. I’d even argue that the dependence of ethnographic authority on social construction is greater than that of other kinds of scientific authority, as ethnography is so quintessentially an embedded social practice. A physicist or chemist or biologist at least in principle has nature to push back on their claims; a renegade natural scientist can as a last resort claim their authority through provision of a bomb or a cure. The mathematician or software engineer can test and verify their work through procedure. The ethnographer does not have these opportunities. Their writing will never be enough to convey the entirety of their experience. It is always partial evidence, a gesture at the unwritten.

This is not an accidental part of the ethnographic method. The practice of data anonymization, necessitated by the IRB and ethics, puts limitations on what can be said. These limitations are essential for building and maintaining the relationships of trust on which ethnographic data collection depends. The experiences of the ethnographer must always go far beyond what has been regulated as valid procedure. The information they have collected illicitly will, if they are skilled and wise, inform their judgment of what to write and what to leave out. The ethnographic text contains many layers of subtext that will be unknown to most readers. This is by design.

The philosophical text, in contrast, contains even less observational data. The text is abstracted from context. Only the logic is explicit. A naive reader will assume, then, that philosophy is a practice of logic chopping.

This is incorrect. My friend the ethnographer was correct: that ethnography is a way of answering philosophical questions empirically, through experience. However, what he missed is that philosophy is also a way of answering philosophical questions through experience. Just as in ethnographic writing, experience necessarily shapes the philosophical text. What is included, what is left out, what constellation in the cosmos of ideas is traced by the logic of the argument–these will be informed by experience, even if that experience is absent from the text itself.

One wonders: thus unhinged from empirical argument, how does a philosophical text become authoritative?

I’d offer the answer: it doesn’t. A philosophical text does not claim authority. That has been its method since Socrates.

Arendt on social science

Despite my first (perhaps kneejerk) reaction to Arendt’s The Human Condition, as I read further I am finding it one of the most profoundly insightful books I’ve ever read.

It is difficult to summarize: not because it is written badly, but because it is written well. I feel every paragraph has real substance to it.

Here’s an example: Arendt’s take on the modern social sciences:

To gauge the extent of society’s victory in the modern age, its early substitution of behavior for action and its eventual substitution of bureaucracy, the rule of nobody, for personal rulership, it may be well to recall that its initial science of economics, which substitutes patterns of behavior only in this rather limited field of human activity, was finally followed by the all-comprehensive pretension of the social sciences which, as “behavioral sciences,” aim to reduce man as a whole, in all his activities, to the level of a conditioned and behaving animal. If economics is the science of society in its early stages, when it could impose its rules of behavior only on sections of the population and on parts of their activities, the rise of the “behavioral sciences” indicates clearly the final stage of this development, when mass society has devoured all strata of the nation and “social behavior” has become the standard for all regions of life.

To understand this paragraph, one has to know what Arendt means by society. She introduces the idea of society in contrast to the Ancient Greek polis, which is the sphere of life in Antiquity where the head of a household could meet with other heads of households to discuss public matters. Importantly for Arendt, all concerns relating to the basic maintenance and furthering of life–food, shelter, reproduction, etc.–were part of the private domain, not the polis. Participation in public affairs was for those who were otherwise self-sufficient. In their freedom, they would compete to outdo each other in acts and words that would resonate beyond their lifetime, deeds, through which they could aspire to immortality.

Society, in contrast, is what happens when the mass of people begin to organize themselves as if they were part of one household. The conditions of maintaining life are public. In modern society, people are defined by their job; even being the ruler is just another job. Deviation from ones role in society in an attempt to make a lasting change–deeds–are considered disruptive, and so are rejected by the norms of society.

From here, we get Arendt’s critique of the social sciences, which is essentially this: that is only possible to have a social science that finds regularities of people’s behavior when their behavior has been regularized by society. So the social sciences are not discovering a truth about people en masse that was not known before. The social sciences aren’t discovering things about people. They are rather reflecting the society as it is. The more that the masses are effectively ‘socialized’, the more pervasive a generalizing social science can be, because only under those conditions are there regularities there to be captured as knowledge and taught.

formalizing the cultural observer

I’m taking a brief break from Horkheimer because he is so depressing and because I believe the second half of Eclipse of Reason may include new ideas that will take energy to internalize.

In the meantime, I’ve rediscovered Soren Brier’s Cybersemiotics: Why Information Is Not Enough! (2008), which has remained faithfully on my desk for months.

Brier is concerned with the possibility of meaning generally, and attempts to synthesize the positions of Pierce (recall: philosophically disliked by Horkheimer as a pragmatist), Wittgenstein (who first was an advocate of the formalization of reason and language in his Tractatus, then turned dramatically against it in his Philosophical Investigations), second-order cyberneticists like Varela and Maturana, and the social theorist Niklas Luhmann.

Brier does not make any concessions to simplicity. Rather, his approach is to begin with the simplest theories of communication (Shannon) and show where each fails to account for a more complex form of interaction between more completely defined organisms. In this way, he reveals how each simpler form of communication is the core around which a more elaborate form of meaning-making is formed. He finally arrives at a picture of meaning-making that encompasses all of reality, including that which can be scientifically understood, but one that is necessarily incomplete and an open system. Meaning is all-pervading but never all-encompassing.

One element that makes meaning more complex than simple Shannon-esque communication is the role of the observer, who is maintained semiotically through an accomplishment of self-reference through time. This observer is a product of her own contingency. The language she uses is the result of nature, AND history, AND her own lived life. There is a specificity to her words and meanings that radiates outward as she communicates, meanings that interact in cybernetic exchange with the specific meanings of other speakers/observers. Language evolves in an ecology of meaning that can only poorly be reflected back upon the speaker.

What then can be said of the cultural observer, who carefully gathers meanings, distills them, and expresses new ones conclusively? She is a cybernetic captain, steering the world in one way or another, but only the world she perceives and conceives. Perhaps this is Haraway’s cyborg, existing in time and space through a self-referential loop, reinforced by stories told again and again: “I am this, I am this, I am this.” It is by clinging to this identity that the cyborg achieves the partiality glorified by Haraway. It is also this identity that positions her as an antagonist as she must daily fight the forces of entropy that would dissolve her personality.

Built on cybernetic foundations, does anything in principle prevent the formalization and implementation of Brier’s semiotic logic? What would a cultural observer that stands betwixt all cultures, looming like a spider on the webs of communication that wrap the earth at inconceivable scale? Without the same constraints of partiality of one human observer, belonging to one culture, what could such a robot scientist see? What meaning would they make for themselves or intend?

This is not simply an issue of the interpretability of the algorithms used by such a machine. More deeply, it is the problem that these machines do not speak for themselves. They have no self-reference or identity, and so do not participate in meaning-making except instrumentally as infrastructure. This cultural observer that is in the position to observe culture in the making without the limits of human partiality for now only serves to amplify signal or dampen noise. The design is incomplete.

Horkheimer, pragmatism, and cognitive ecology

In Eclipse of Reason, Horkheimer rips into the American pragmatists Peirce, James, and Dewey like nobody I’ve ever read. Normally seen as reasonable and benign, Horkheimer paints these figures as ignorant and undermining of the whole social order.

The reason is that he believes that they reduce epistemology to a kind a instrumentalism. But that’s selling their position a bit short. Dewey’s moral epistemology is pragmatist in that it is driven by particular, situated interests and concerns, but these are ingredients to moral inquiry and not conclusions in themselves.

So to the extent that Horkheimer is looking to dialectic reason as the grounds to uncovering objective truths, Dewey’s emphasis on the establishing institutions that allow for meaningful moral inquiry seems consistent with Horkheimer’s view. The difference is in whether the dialectics are transcendental (as for Kant) or immanent (as for Hegel?).

The tension around objectivity in epistemology that comes up in the present academic environment is that all claims to objectivity are necessarily situated and this situatedness is raised as a challenge to their objective status. If the claims or their justification depend on conditions that exclude some subjects (as they no doubt do; whether or not dialectical reason is transcendental or immanent is requires opportunities for reflection that are rare–privileged), can these conclusions be said to be true for all subjects?

The Friendly AI research program more or less assumes that yes, this is the case. Yudkowsky’s notion of Coherent Extrapolated Volition–the position arrived at by simulated, idealized reasoners, is a 21st century remake of Peirce’s limiting consensus of the rational. And yet the cry from standpoint theorists and certain anthropologically inspired disciplines is a recognition of the validity of partial perspectives. Haraway, for example, calls for an alliance of partial perspectives. Critical and adversarial design folks appear to have picked up this baton. Their vision is of a future of constantly vying (“agonistic”) partiality, with no perspective presuming to be settled, objective or complete.

If we make cognitivist assumptions about the computationality of all epistemic agents, then we are forced to acknowledge the finiteness of all actually existing reasoning. Finite capacity and situatedness become two sides of the same coin. Partiality, then, becomes a function of both ones place in the network (eccentricity vs. centrality) as well as capacity to integrate information from the periphery. Those locations in the network most able to valuably integrate information, whether they be Google’s data centers or the conversational hubs of research universities, are more impartial, more objective. But they can never be the complete system. Because of their finite capacity, their representations can at best be lossy compressions of the whole.

A Hegelian might dream of an objective truth obtainable by a single subject through transcendental dialectic. Perhaps this is unattainable. But if there’s any hope at all in this direction, it seems to me it must come from one of two possibilities:

  • The fortuitously fractal structure of the sociotechnical world such that an adequate representation of it can be maintained in its epistemic hubs through quining, or
  • A generative grammar or modeling language of cognitive ecology such that we can get insights into the larger interactive system from toy models, and apply these simplified models pragmatically in specific cases. For this to work and not suffer the same failures as theoretical economics, these models need to have empirical content. Something like Wolpert, Lee, and Bono’s Predictive Game Theory (for which I just discovered they’ve released a Python package…cool!) may be critical here.

Reflecting on “Technoscience and Expressionism” by @FractalOntology

I’ve come across Joseph Weissman’s (@FractalOntology) “Technoscience and Expressionism” and am grateful for it, as its filled me in on a philosophical position that I missed the first time around, accelerationism. I’m not a Deleuzian and prefer my analytic texts to plod, so I can’t say I understood all of the essay. On the other hand, I gather the angle of this kind of philosophizing is intentionally psychotherapeutic and hence serves and artistic/literary function rather than one that explicitly guides praxis.

I am curious about the essay because I would like to see a thorough analysis of the political possibilities for the 21st century that gets past 20th century tropes. The passions of journalistic and intellectual debate have an atavistic tendency due to a lack of imagination that I would like to avoid in my own life and work.

Accelerationism looks new. It was pronounced in a manifesto, which is a good start.

Here is a quote from it:

Democracy cannot be defined simply by its means — not via voting, discussion, or general assemblies. Real democracy must be defined by its goal — collective self-​mastery. This is a project which must align politics with the legacy of the Enlightenment, to the extent that it is only through harnessing our ability to understand ourselves and our world better (our social, technical, economic, psychological world) that we can come to rule ourselves. We need to posit a collectively controlled legitimate vertical authority in addition to distributed horizontal forms of sociality, to avoid becoming the slaves of either a tyrannical totalitarian centralism or a capricious emergent order beyond our control. The command of The Plan must be married to the improvised order of The Network.

Hell yeah, the Enlightenment! Sign me up!

The manifesto calls for an end to the left’s emphasis on local action, transparency, and direct democracy. Rather, it calls for a muscular hegemonic left that fully employs and deploys “technoscience”.

It is good to be able to name this political tendency and distinguish it from other left tendencies. It is also good to distinguish it from “right accelerationism”, which Weissman identifies with billionaires who want to create exurb communities.

A left-accelerationist impulse is today playing out dramatically against a right-accelerationist one. And the right-accelerationists are about as dangerous as you may imagine. With silicon valley VCs, and libertarian technologists more generally reading Nick Land on geopolitical fragmentation, the reception or at least receptivity to hard-right accelerants seems problematically open (and the recent $2M campaign proposing the segmentation of California into six microstates seems to provide some evidence for this.) Billionaires consuming hard-right accelerationist materials arguing for hyper-secessionism undoubtedly amounts to a critically dangerous situation. I suspect that the right-accelerationist materials, perspectives, affect, energy expresses a similar shadow, if it is not partly what is catalyzing the resurgence of micro-fascisms elsewhere (and macro ones as well — perhaps most significant to my mind here is the overlap of right-acceleration with white nationalism, and more generally what is deplorably and disingenuously called “race realism” — and is of course simply racism; consider Marine le Pen’s fascist front, which recently won 25% of the seats in the French parliament, UKIP’s resurgence in Great Britain; while we may not hear accelerationist allegiances and watchwords explicitly, the political implications and continuity is at the very least somewhat unsettling…)

There is an unfortunate conflation of several different points of view here. It is too easy to associate racism, wealth, and libertarianism as these are the nightmares of the left’s political imagination. If ideological writing is therapeutic, a way of articulating ones dreams, then this is entirely appropriate with a caveat. The caveat being that every nightmare is a creation of ones own psychology more so than a reflection of the real world.

The same elisions are made by Sam Frank in his recent article thematizing Silicon Valley libertarianism, friendly artificial intelligence research, and contemporary rationalism as a self-help technique. There are interesting organizational ties between these institutions that are validly worth investigating but it would be lazy to collapse vast swathes of the intellectual spectrum into binaries.

In March 2013 I wrote about the Bay Area Rationalists:

There is a good story here, somewhere. If I were a journalist, I would get in on this and publish something about it, just because there is such a great opportunity for sensationalist exploitation.

I would like to say “I called it”–Sam Frank has recently written just such a sensationalist, exploitative piece in Harper’s Magazine. It is thoroughly enjoyable and I wouldn’t say it’s inaccurate. But I don’t think this is the best way to get to know these people. A better one is to attend a CFAR workshop. It used to be that you could avoid the fee with a promise to volunteer, but that there was a money-back guarantee which extended to ones promise to volunteer. If that’s still the case, then one can essentially attend for free.

Another way to engage this community intellectually, which I would encourage the left accelerationists to do because it’s interesting, is to start participating on LessWrong. For some reason this community is not subject to ideological raids like so many other community platforms. I think it could stand for an influx of Deleuze.

Ultimately the left/right divide comes down to a question of distribution of resources and/or surplus. Left accelerationist tactics appear from here to be a more viable way of seizing resources than direct democracy. However, the question is whether accelerationist tactics inevitably result in inequalities that create control structures of the kind originally objected to. In other words, this may simply be politics as usual and nothing radical at all.

So there’s an intersection between these considerations (accelerationist vs. … decelerationism? Capital accumulation vs. capital redistribution?) and the question of decentralization of decision-making process (is that the managerialism vs. multistakeholderism divide?) whose logic is unclear to me. I want to know which affinities are necessary and which are merely contingent.

Imre Lakatos and programming as dialectic

My dissertation is about the role of software in scholarly communication. Specifically, I’m interested in the way software code is itself a kind of scholarly communication, and how the informal communications around software production represent and constitute communities of scientists. I see science as a cognitive task accomplished by the sociotechnical system of science, including both scientists and their infrastructure. Looking particularly at scientist’s use of communications infrastructure such as email, issue trackers, and version control, I hope to study the mechanisms of the scientific process much like a neuroscientist studies the mechanisms of the mind by studying neural architecture and brainwave activity.

To get a grip on this problem I’ve been building BigBang, a tool for collecting data from open source projects and readying it for scientific analysis.

I have also been reading background literature to give my dissertation work theoretical heft and to procrastinate from coding. This is why I have been reading Imre Lakatos’ Proofs and Refutations (1976).

Proofs and Refutations is a brilliantly written book about the history of mathematical proof. In particular, it is an analysis of informal mathematics through an investigation of the letters written by mathematicians working on proofs about the Euler characteristic of polyhedra in the 18th and 19th centuries.

Whereas in the early 20th century, based on the work of Russel and Whitehead and others, formal logic was axiomatized, prior to this mathematical argumentation had less formal grounding. As a result, mathematicians would argue not just substantively about the theorem they were trying to prove or disprove, but also about what constitutes a proof, a conjecture, or a theorem in the first place. Lakatos demonstrates this by condensing 200+ years of scholarly communication into a fictional, impassioned classroom dialog where characters representing mathematicians throughout history banter about polyhedra and proof techniques.

What’s fascinating is how convincingly Lakatos presents the progress of mathematical understanding as an example of dialectical logic. Though he doesn’t use the word “dialectical” as far as I’m aware, he tells the story of the informal logic of pre-Russellian mathematics through dialog. But this dialog is designed to capture the timeless logic behind what’s been said before. It takes the reader through the thought process of mathematical discovery in abbreviated form.

I’ve had conversations with serious historians and ethnographers of science who would object strongly to the idea of a history of a scientific discipline reflecting a “timeless logic”. Historians are apt to think that nothing is timeless. I’m inclined to think that the objectivity of logic persists over time much the same way that it persists over space and between subjects, even illogical ones, hence its power. These are perhaps theological questions.

What I’d like to argue (but am not sure how) is that the process of informal mathematics presented by Lakatos is strikingly similar to that used by software engineers. The process of selecting a conjecture, then of writing a proof (which for Lakatos is a logical argument whether or not it is sound or valid), then having it critiqued with counterexamples, which may either be global (counter to the original conjecture) or local (counter to a lemma), then modifying the proof, then perhaps starting from scratch based on a new insight… all this reads uncannily like the process of debugging source code.

The argument for this correspondence is strengthened by later work in theory of computation and complexity theory. I learned this theory so long ago I forget who to attribute it to, but much of the foundational work in computer science was the establishment of a correspondence between classes of formal logic and classes of programming languages. So in a sense its uncontroversial within computer science to consider programs to be proofs.

As I write I am unsure whether I’m simply restating what’s obvious to computer scientists in an antiquated philosophical language (a danger I feel every time I read a book, lately) or if I’m capturing something that could be an interesting synthesis. But my point is this: that if programming language design and the construction of progressively more powerful software libraries is akin to the expanding of formal mathematical knowledge from axiomatic grounds, then the act of programming itself is much more like the informal mathematics of pre-Russellian mathematics. Specifically, in that it is unaxiomatic and proofs are in play without necessarily being sound. When we use a software system, we are depending necessarily on a system of imperfected proofs that we fix iteratively through discovered counterexamples (bugs).

Is it fair to say, then, that whereas the logic of software is formal, deductive logic, the logic of programming is dialectical logic?

Bear with me; let’s presume it is. That’s a foundational idea of my dissertation work. Proving or disproving it may or may not be out of scope of the dissertation itself, but it’s where it’s ultimately headed.

The question is whether it is possible to develop a formal understanding of dialectical logic through a scientific analysis of the software collaboration. (see a mathematical model of collective creativity). If this could be done, then we could then build better software or protocols to assist this dialectical process.

deep thoughts by jack handy

Information transfer just is the coming-into-dependence of two variables, which under the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics means the entanglement of the “worlds” of each variable (and, by extension, the networks of causally related variables of which they are a part). Information exchange collapses possibilities.
This holds up whether you take a subjectivist view of reality (and probability–Bayesian probability properly speaking) or an objectivist view. At their (dialectical?) limit, the two “irreconcilable” paradigms converge on a monist metaphysics that is absolutely physical and also ideal. (This was recognized by Hegel, who was way ahead of the game in a lot of ways.) It is the ideality of nature that allows it to be mathematized, though its important to note that mathematization does not exclude engagement with nature through other modalities, e.g. the emotional, the narrative, etc.

This means that characterizing the evolution of networks of information exchange by their physical properties (limits of information capacity of channels, etc.) is something to be embraced to better understand their impact on e.g. socially constructed reality, emic identity construction, etc. What the mathematics provide is a representation of what remains after so many diverse worlds are collapsed.

A similar result, representing a broad consensus, might be attained dialectically, specifically through actual dialog. Whereas the mathematical accounting is likely to lead to reduction to latent variables that may not coincide with the lived experience of participants, a dialectical approach is more likely to result in a synthesis of perspectives at a higher level of abstraction. (Only a confrontation with nature as the embodiment of unconscious constraints is likely to force us to confront latent mechanisms.)

Whether or not such dialectical synthesis will result in a singular convergent truth is unknown, with various ideologies taking positions on the matter as methodological assumptions. Haraway’s feminist epistemology, eschewing rational consensus in favor of interperspectival translation, rejects a convergent (scientific, and she would say masculine) truth. But does this stand up to the simple objection that Haraway’s own claims about truth and method transcend individual perspective, making he guilty of performative contradiction?

Perhaps a deeper problem with the consensus view of truth, which I heard once from David Weinberger, is that the structure of debate may have fractal complexity. The fractal pluralectic can fray into infinite and infinitesimal disagreement at its borders. I’ve come around to agreeing with this view, uncomfortable as it is. However, within the fractal pluralectic we can still locate a convergent perspective based on the network topology of information flow. Some parts of the network are more central and brighter than others.

A critical question is to what extent the darkness and confusion in the dissonant periphery can be included within the perspective of the central, convergent parts of the network. Is there necessarily a Shadow? Without the noise, can there be a signal?

dreams of reason

Begin insomniac academic blogging:

Dave Lester has explained his strategy in graduate school as “living agily”, a reference to agile software development.

In trying to navigate the academic world, I find myself sniffing the air through conversations, email exchanges, tweets. Since this feels like part of my full time job, I have been approaching the task with gusto and believe I am learning rapidly.

Intellectual fashions shift quickly. A year ago I first heard the term “digital humanities”. At the time, it appeared to be controversial but on the rise. Now, it seems like something people are either disillusioned with or pissed about. (What’s this based on? A couple conversations this week, a few tweets. Is that sufficient grounds to reify a ‘trend’?)

I have no dog in that race yet. I can’t claim to understand what “digital humanities” means. But from what I gather, it represents a serious attempt to approach text in its quantitative/qualitative duality.

It seems that such a research program would: (a) fall short of traditional humanities methods at first, due to the primitive nature of the tools available, (b) become more insightful as the tools develop, and so (c) be both disgusting and threatening to humanities scholars who would prefer that their industry not be disrupted.

I was reminded through an exchange with some Facebook Marxists that Hegel wrote about the relationship between the quantitative and the qualitative. I forget if quantity was a moment in transition to quality, or the other way around, or if they bear some mutual relationship, for Hegel.

I’m both exhausted about and excited that in order to understand the evolution of the environment I’m in, and make strategic choices about how to apply myself, I have to (re?)read some Hegel. I believe the relevant sections are this and this from his Science of Logic.

This just in! Information about why people are outraged by digital humanities!

There we have it. Confirmation that outrage at digital humanities is against the funding of research based on the assumption that “that formal characteristics of a text may also be of importance in calling a fictional text literary or non-literary, and good or bad”–i.e., that some aspects of literary quality may be reducible to quantitative properties of the text.

A lot of progress has been made in psychology by assuming that psychological properties–manifestly qualitative–supervene on quantitatively articulated properties of physical reality. The study of neurocomputation, for example, depends on this. This leads to all sorts of cool new technology, like prosthetic limbs and hearing aids and combat drones controlled by dreaming children (potentially).

So, is it safe to say that if you’re against digital humanities, you are against the unremitting march of technical progress? I suppose I could see why one would be, but I think that’s something we have to take a gamble on, steering it as we go.

In related news, I am getting a lot out of my course on statistical learning theory. Looking up something I wanted to include in this post just now about what I’ve been learning, I found this funny picture:

One thing that’s great about this picture is how it makes explicit how, in a model of the mind adopted by statistical cognitive science theorists, The World is understood by us through a mentally internal Estimator whose parameters are strictly speaking quantitative. They are quantitative because they are posited to instantiate certain algorithms, such as those derived by statistical learning theorists. These algorithmic functions presumably supervene on a neurocomputational substrate.

But that’s a digression. What I wanted to say is how exciting belief propagation algorithms for computing marginal probabilities on probabilistic graphical models are!

What’s exciting about them is the promise they hold for the convergence of opinion onto correct belief based on a simple algorithm. Each node in a network of variables listens to all of its neighbors. Occasionally (on a schedule whose parameters are free for optimization to context) the node will synthesize the state of all of its neighbors except one, then push that “message” to its neighbor, who is listening…

…and so on, recursively. This algorithm has nice mathematically guaranteed convergence properties when the underlying graph has no cycles. Meaning, the algorithm finds the truth about the marginal probabilities of the nodes in a guaranteed amount of time.

It also has some nice empirically determined properties when the underlying graph has cycles.

The metaphor is loose, at this point. If I could dream my thesis into being at this moment, it would be a theoretical reduction of discourse on the internet (as a special case of discourse in general) to belief propagation on probabilistic graphical models. Ideally, it would have to account for adversarial agents within the system (i.e. it would have to be analyzed for its security properties), and support design recommendations for technology that catalyzed the process.

I think it’s possible. Not done alone, of course, but what projects are ever really undertaken alone?

Would it be good for the world? I’m not sure. Maybe if done right.