Measuring 'Progress'

There's all kinds of waffling all the time about social and economic progress.

I think it's easier to just consider two likely factors, based on empirical observation. Societies and economies that are said to have progressed relative to others are those with a higher information flux density or energy flux density.

For those less enamoured of technical-sounding terms, 'flux density' is a measure of the rate at which something flows through a cross-sectional area. So a high information flux density implies that a lot of information is flowing through a specific cross-section. The more 'units' (how ever measured) of information or energy flow through an average cross-section of the society being evaluated, the more 'socioeconomically progressive' it can be said to be.

Whether this is a valid formulation or not is still debatable. However, it's an interesting place to start — my personal thesis that socioeconomic progress can be measured by information and/or energy flux density, or some combination thereof.

Why would such measures be valid?

Well, if information is being transferred from node to node (that is, meaning is successfully conveyed — a la communication theory — from one place to another), then teaching and learning, and other social tools, are implied. The higher the density, the more likely it is that it is for some purpose; it is unlikely that a lot of information is being routed from point A to point B for no reason at all (except, perhaps, for back-up and other 'modern' purposes). If large amounts of energy (of any kind) are being transferred from point A to point B, it is also unlikely that it is being used for no reason at all (except, perhaps, for aesthetic purposes such as decorative lighting).

Although there will certainly be exceptions, the chance of social complexity, diversity of thought, and diversity of purposeful action being present should increase with the increase in these flux densities. In order to make this more robust, I'd propose that successful 'flow' should be measured in terms of what was sent at the transmitting end and what was used at the recipient end. So if someone sends me an email and it is routed to my junk folder and deleted, that doesn't count, since no information transfer in a practical sense has occurred.

Let's see how it goes...

Pejorative Accuracy

I was idly sifting through the American news (well, at least the US part of it) when I realised that three terms used pejoratively in such media could certainly be applied to me in some contexts. These three terms are 'un-American', 'useful idiot' and 'fellow traveler'.

I am certainly un-American. Actually, I am completely non-American. And I am also a useful idiot when I have to be, as well as a fellow traveler to those whose causes I sympathize with. There you have it, accurate self-pejoration.

Systems of Government (Part 3)

Communism: See Christianity, early church, Acts of the Apostles II:xliv-xlv and IV:xxxii-xxxv... as Marx did.

Communalism: A kind of mutualism based on communes; that is, separate self-sufficient communities working tangentially together if at all. Hence commun-al-ism.

Communitarianism: A desperate attempt to continue complicating the issue by mashing communes into communities and asserting that this is not communism but libertarianism writ large. Or something like that. It reminds me of a moonbase in which everyone uses comm units to network.

=====

I suspect the problem is communication.

Systems of Government (Part 2)

Fascism: taking 'spare the rod, spoil the child' to its logical conclusion — a bundle of rods and no innocent children.

Plantar Fascitis: being caught flatfooted and looking vaguely fascistic.

Systems of Government (Part 1)

Democracy: a system of government in which the most convincing win, whether they are good or not, right or not, smart or not. Also, a meritocracy in which being convincing is meritorious.

Republic: a system of government in which the public elects representatives only to find that these best represent only themselves. Duh.

Areas of Knowledge

Too often these days, it seems, I am asked what a way of thinking is, or what a way of knowing is. There is a whole group of terms that need defining here, but yet they cannot be defined narrowly.

'Thought', to begin with, is the process of data transfer in the brain. Whether this is thought of as a chemical phenomenon or an electrical one (it is both), conscious or subconscious, the fact remains that all would agree that the state of a brain before a thought, and the state of the same brain after, cannot be the same. Something has changed, and we prefer to think of it in terms of data (at the very least).

A 'way of thinking' is therefore a pattern (or process, or procedure) involving data transfers that bear similar characteristics and follow (or appear to follow, or are aimed at, or appear to be aimed at) the same direction, intention, purpose or goal. In the abstract, a way of thinking is a pattern that exists with or without real data transfers. It can be hypothetical or actual, practical or not.

'Knowledge', according to at least one theory, is the contextualised framing of validated information. 'Information', in turn, arises from data that have been structured (formulated or 'informed', that is, placed in a formation) or given form. 'Data' (singular = 'datum') are elements processed by a system that change the state of a system. We can be more exacting in our definitions, especially if we are cognitive scientists or computer scientists, but these definitions are deliberately broad in order to allow for more possibilities.

A 'way of knowing' is therefore a pattern (or process, or procedure) involving the collection of data which can be made into information and then contextualised into knowledge. There are many ways of knowing, but for humans these can be divided into two groups: intrinsic (i.e., involving processes taking place entirely in the human body) and extrinsic (i.e., with some attempt at processing outside the human body or which need external standards for validation).

Generally, sensory perception and emotional response are intrinsic ways of knowing and cannot be shared very efficiently, while formal reasoning and language are extrinsic ways of knowing and can be shared a lot more efficiently. One way of looking at this might be that we have developed the extrinsic ways of knowing in order to share the intrinsic ways of knowing. You can argue that reason is intrinsic, and this is probably true, but there's no way to tell that a person engages in formal reasoning unless it's expressed; everything about human reasoning, strictly speaking, is a 'black box' effect without external validation.

Which brings me to 'areas of knowledge'. As mentioned elsewhere in this blog, an area of knowledge is defined in terms of parametric characteristics. Essentially, an area of knowledge is an array of knowledge chunks or pieces that share common characteristics such that they can be connected together into a 'body of knowledge'. This can normally described in some short general definition, e.g. 'History is about chaps while geography is about maps' or something like that.

There are larger areas of knowledge which follow very general paradigms, and smaller sub-areas. For example, 'aesthetics' is a huge area of knowledge that is based on the emotional response to sensory perception. Within 'aesthetics' are sub-areas such as 'music' or 'sculpture'. Within 'music' you would find smaller areas concerning its historical basis, instrumentation and instrument use, works and description and analysis of works, and so on. You can have a very tiny area of knowledge such as '17th-century musical works performed by double-reeded instruments and workmen's tools in anechoic chambers' or something like that.

And there I will stop for a while to gather my breath. I suspect that with the coming round of TOK topics, I will need all the creative energy I can store. If such energy does indeed exist and can be stored, that is.

Writing a TOK Essay (Part III): Definitions

Quite often, students ask me how terms ought to be defined. Most of them will just take a whack at a dictionary and pick one of the definitions therein. That approach is fine, but it doesn't show evidence of thought other than that required to crack open a dictionary and search it alphabetically.

There are several ways to define a term without simply copying its definition from a dictionary. Here are a few.

1. Etymological approach: Going to a website like the Online Etymology Dictionary will give you an insight as to what a word has meant in the past. This comes from its roots — its 'genealogy' if you like. The OEtD shows how the word came to be the way it is, and thus what its original sense used to be and still is. Careful use allows you to differentiate between generally synonymous words like 'fault' and 'blame', which in many other dictionaries come up looking the same. See, for example, this post and any with the 'Etymology' tag.

2. Historical approach: This is like the etymological approach, except that you look at past usages of a word, and also other words or phrases used in its place. For example, the word 'science' has been used to denote technical skill, technology, engineering and other applications of a rigorous methodology. Its antecedents include terms like 'natural history' (that is, the observation and analysis of material phenomena) and 'natural philosophy' (that is, the consideration of abstract reasoning based on actual events). All this gives you a rough idea of what science really is.

3. Contextual/metaphorical approach: This is a look at the cultural context, often combined with some ability to handle a term metaphorically. Sometimes, words are defined counter-intuitively and the solid technical approaches of (1) and (2) above won't quite work. This is true for terms like 'social sciences', of which some professor I know once said, "They are neither social, nor sciences." (It's true for terms like 'independent schools' in the Atlantean context too — somebody once said, "They are neither independent nor schools." I thought that was a little bit much though.) Of course, it all depends on what you mean by 'independent' and 'school' — and that is where the contextual approach is required: you look into the usage within the context and ask, "In what sense is economics (for example) 'social', and in what sense is it a 'science'?" You can do fantastic things with questions like, "In what ways is a cauliflower a flower?"

I'll stop here. But the basic principles of defining terms, and then a whole question, rely on the student using the brain to identify the key words that need definitions first, and then applying a few common-sense principles (like those above) to seek definitions favourable to the forthcoming argument/discussion.

Areas of Knowledge (Redux)

Last night, one of my former students who knows me well enough decided to play the game. He asked me, "So, how do you define 'area of knowledge'?"

So I told him how I defined it, from an information point of view. An area of knowledge is a set of interpreted data points which broadly share the same kind of origin and/or derivation, and the same kind of methodology of collection, retention and interpretation. The means of justification for each of these interpreted data points (information 'bits') is also reasonably similar, and the points are related to form a coherent body of information. This body therefore consists of knowledge and can be considered to be a somewhat continuous space in the knowledge realm — hence, 'area of knowledge'.

Of course, it is quite possible to define 'area of knowledge' based on empirical evidence. You can look at constructs that people say are areas of knowledge and then say that an area of knowledge is something which is similar to those constructs. This method is like teaching people what a triangle is by looking at things which are triangles, rather than defining 'triangle' and seeing if the construct under examination matches the definition.

By this second method, you can say History, Chemistry, Computing, Law (and so on) are areas of knowledge. Then if you encountered something like Theology, you would have to decide if it were an area of knowledge or not based on its similarity to the others. That's actually not as easy as it seems, although I have in the past demonstrated how Theology is like Mathematics (or vice versa).

Statehood

A state is a description of all the elements in a specific set, sufficiently complete for the purposes of its informational context. My definition is deliberately broad in order to include such diverse entities as 'nation-state', 'state of matter', 'halting state', 'state of chaos', and 'state of mind'.

The thing to note, I suppose, is that informational context is the limiting factor in all our communications. This is because it is that context which determines how much data is sufficient for the purposes of effective communication, and hence how low a signal-to-noise ratio is minimally necessary for efficient communication.

For example, to convey a state of mind from one person to another is incredibly complex. My mental state, simply put, is the description of all the neurons in my brain: their number, individual characteristics and condition, possible combined effects, and probabilities of those effects. Yet, given another person whose mind is mostly able to interface with my own (i.e. we have some kind of understanding, or more specifically, a rapport), much of this description is superfluous or would generate too much noise in the process of transmission. A simple, "ARGHHHHH!!!!" might suffice, and additional data might lower the efficiency without increasing the effectiveness.

It is the same with any kind of state; a full description of state is the atomist's dream. Some speculate that a sufficiently complete description of state would change the universe; these are the people who think the world is nothing but information. This may be true, as countless books and movies have attempted to convince us. But at the same time, there may not be enough time for a complete description of state, since any sufficiently complete description of state is dependent on its context — a condition which might imply the necessity of describing the describer as well as the description itself.

No matter how impossible such things might be, they are interesting to think about. They are practical problems mixed with large-scale conceptual ideas. The difficulty in many communities of ostensibly thinking people is that they are intent on solving practical problems without dealing with the informational context at the larger scale. Solving problems without looking at the big concepts woven into and around them is like polishing gemstones in a crown without considering the importance of that crown as a whole.

Shakespeare was a master at describing the problems of kingship, a situation often obsessed about to the detriment of the state as a whole. In Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear, Julius Caesar and scores of other plays, a common theme is present: uneasy lies the head which wears the crown; how much worse the head which obsesses about the practical details of kingship (how to get it, how to keep it, how to use it) — forgetting that the king is the chief servant and key element of the state.

No Good Teachers? (Part 2)

It wasn't until I had typed that title that I realised the ambiguity which careless punctuation might have introduced. "No-good teachers?" is of course the questionable (plaintive?) alternative. But we are reasonable people who at this stage in our lives have many paradigms (deploying whole batteries of methodology and theory) to analyse the question as it stands.

Are there really no good teachers? Is it even possible (as the Mademoiselle seems to suggest) that we can even define 'good' well enough to answer the question? What is a good teacher? Am I crazy for trying to define that?

No. I don't think I'm crazy. I might be asking a bit much from language, but I haven't gone off the deep end yet. And here is my reasoning.

Let me first assert that 'good' in this context means 'more than merely fit (for a given purpose)'. Further, I assert that the nature of this excess fitness is a positive thing, so much so that it is reasonably clear (or clear to the reasonable person) that there is competence in excess of what is merely required.

I justify my assertions by saying that when we find something to be good, it implies that this thing has intrinsic virtue within the context of its function, location, or other existential context. The nature of virtue is essence of positive contribution to the context. Hence, a 'good' thing is one which not only meets requirements, but clearly exceeds them in recognizable and desirable ways.

Let me next state that 'teacher' in this context means 'one who teaches', but we must now define 'teach'. I assert that to teach is to prescribe and enforce a course of action which leads to a gain in knowledge; to do this consciously, deliberately, and with prior consideration and planning; to do this systematically, repeatedly and consistently; to do this by direct interaction with the person(s) being taught; and to do it in a way that is transparent as to methodology and related outcomes.

I justify these assertions by reference to the common uses of the word 'teach', and now proceed to combine the two sets of assertions into a definition of the phrase 'good teacher'.

A good teacher must therefore exceed the parameters of the 'teacher' definition in such a way that this 'excess virtue' is recognizable and desirable, makes a positive contribution, and fulfils the requirements of society. That is:

• The good teacher has an interactive armamentarium which, when systematically, repeatedly and consistently deployed, will lead to gains in knowledge beyond what would be reasonably expected by mere self-study or personal inspiration.
• The good teacher deploys this armamentarium in a properly considered and intelligent way – and his students know this, recognize this, are convinced of its effectiveness and desire its effects.
• The good teacher knows how and when to vary the means and types of deployment, is a convincing practitioner, and has mastery over his material (and failing complete mastery, at least knows how it might be gained).

I'm sure that this isn't all there is to it. I think it's a serviceable description, though, and I hope my readers might feel moved to comment on it.