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Archive for the ‘principles’ Category

I’m on Twitter.

Friday, December 9th, 2011

Yes, as of recently, I’m on Twitter. I decided to join not out of need or curiosity or the desire to fit in or seem like I know social media or seem like I’m up to speed on technology, but because I decided to open up to the idea that Twitter may actually be useful in allowing me to communicate effectively — let me share my ideas better, let them reach people better.

Twitter (just as any tool, really, and especially just as any platform) is used improperly all the time. By “improperly” I mean used in ways that it wasn’t meant to be used, or in ways that obscure its truly revolutionary, game-changing, unique purpose. I believe that Twitter is unique in that it allows individuals (and groups) to broadcast their thoughts, opinions, reflections (broadly speaking, information) in a lightweight way, and with support for consuming that information.

In other words, As a subscriber, I don’t want articles. I want headlines. And I want them delivered to my doorstep.

The constraint to keep the broadcast lightweight is crucial precisely because we’re letting people broadcast — if the information is too verbose, its sheer volume will make the platform useless. And support for consuming the information lowers the bar for subscriptions. If the information is hard to get, people won’t bother managing their subscriptions.

So yes, I could just have a blog, but by its virtue it will likely contain longer bits of information; and there is no easy way for people to follow my blog unless they subscribe in some way, which will likely be too heavyweight for the number of subscriptions they will likely be maintaining (many of their friends, figures of authority that they trust, companies that they think of, etc.).

Now, a headline might pique your curiosity and then you may want to read more. Twitter supports URLs, which is great. I can have my cake — allow lots of people to go through my content really quickly (so they can go through others’ content too) — and eat it too — still be able to express myself fully.

This blog has a natural connection to Twitter. Many of my posts are snippets of opinion with added context. I should be able to synthesize most of them into something bite-sized. Twitter will create a contract between me and people who may be interested in what I have to say that gives me a scalable forum, and gives them the peace of mind that the content won’t be too time-consuming to get to. I had better be good at synthesizing my content, but it is a great skill to have anyway. In a way, Twitter makes information delivery more democratic.

Of course, that’s not how Twitter is used to a large extent. I think that’s fine — many platforms are abused in some form or another, and different platforms may tolerate different volume of abuse. Since Twitter has such a clear contract, I am okay tolerating abuse because if I do a good job, people who I care about will easily be able to separate me from noise and so I will be able to maximize who I reach out to.

The Fall of the Scientific Method

Thursday, October 27th, 2011

I believe the Scientific Method is, if not becoming irrelevant, at least losing its prominence in discourse throughout the world. As anything in the history of the world, this is just a cyclical movement, but I think we’re about to witness an inflection point.

Biased by the local version of history, we forget that the Scientific Method is only one possible paradigm of reasoning, one that particularly suited humans who found themselves in the Age of Invention and Exploration. When the number of phenomena being discovered is large and each strengthens the fundamental theories put in place, the Scientific Method feels adequate.

The Scientific Method is — my amateur definition follows — the process of rejecting theories through observed contradictory experimental evidence. Synonymous with modern science, it can’t prove anything about the world we live in. It can only evaluate theories for how bad they are.

People tend to forget that even the Ancient Greeks — our model of scientific thought — believed in reasoning that is a combination of the supernatural (mythos) and the rational (logos). For a long time, we have overemphasized the latter, dismissing alternative approaches to understanding reality, but as science turns strange and more distant, I believe we will begin looking for a basis of our understanding that isn’t rooted strictly in observation and rejection of theories.

Science is turning strange. To see this, let’s go back to 1905. The world was a fundamentally different place. All motion in the Universe was governed by a few simple rules first formulated by Newton. Mathematicians believed that every statement about the world can be proven or disproven (shown to be false, of course). We just learned to fly. We built automobiles and submarines, harnessed electricity, and were beginning to understand radioactivity. Maxwell unified our understanding of most of physics into an elegant set of equations.

Today, our laws — even the simple laws of motion — are more complicated. Sure, at low speeds they reduce to Newton’s beautiful equations, but this nonlinearity doesn’t give us much confidence that there is no third-order consequence, and beyond, that we’re simply yet unable to detect. Perhaps the rules that govern how the universe works are unknowable. Moreover, universe is already known to be unpredictable, in addition to being possibly inscrutable. Particles are in a number of states at the same time. The more we refine our models following observations which refute our hypotheses, the more science begins to look like, well, magic. And while we don’t readily admit it, I (and I am sure you, too) feel disappointed by it.

Science is also turning more distant. Many of the advances in physics don’t concern us beyond the drama of popular science narrative. It’s unlikely we’ll directly benefit from the discovery of the Higgs particle, but even if we eventually do (after all, DVDs wouldn’t be possible without Einstein, and his revelations seemed “unpractical” enough), we are adding layers of indirection between our theories and our lives.

Instead of focusing on observations, we can listen to our intuition (what feels right?), our sense of beauty (what is elegant?), or even simply focus more on fundamental phenomena and reason about what is not easily unobservable (what is entropy, exactly? What could the underlying cause of the Universe increasing in complexity be?). Doing this would not necessarily be equivalent to a rejection of logic — I simply advocate for us to go back to the axioms that we base our knowledge base on and revisit them. Once we settle on our axioms, we should absolutely use logic to deduce truths about the world. BUt that first step is crucial in defining what kind of truths we will discover.

Why would the rejection of the Scientific Method be good for us? For one, it may actually teach us something about the universe. Instead of tweaking existing theories, which are increasing in complexity and losing their elegance, we may be able to think outside the box: take an alternative approach, rethink everything we know about the universe, and settle on a much more intuitive and legible understanding.

Progress and its Equilibrium

Thursday, May 12th, 2011

I see progress as the measure of our ability to solve the problems we encounter in our lives. As mankind learns to solve problems, we focus on the more complex ones (ones that are harder to solve, or those put in focus by the just-solved problems) — and this increasing complexity of the problems usually brings about the increased complexity of solutions (or the increased complexity of the research required to arrive at a solution).

Unsurprisingly, this is consistent with and deeply linked to the idea of increasing entropy. However, in my opinion continued progress is a state of unstable equilibrium — one between self-destruction and attrition. In the former, entropy gets a one-time boost followed by a lifetime of nil. In the latter, entropy increases at a decreasing rate thus proving the agents of progress (mankind) ineffective implementators of its underlying idea. It’s only that unstable equilibrium that fulfills entropy’s goal.

Mankind’s mission is therefore to maintain that unstable equilibrium.

A Macro-scale Observer Effect

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011

My brother came to the U.S. to visit me a couple of years back. I was excited to show him what kind of life I lead, give him a glimpse of the crazy activities I participate in. But as the days went by with him here, I found that to my surprise he wasn’t experiencing what I would describe as my “real” life.

Just as he was leaving, I realized that my brother would never have been able to know what my life was like. His stay was an example of an Observer Effect at a macro scale — my brother’s presence made me (and others) behave very differently than we would have otherwise. It wasn’t deliberate (since I was actually looking forward to showing my brother the real me), but by necessity his presence influenced the experiment.

This is interesting to me because it’s an example of an Observer Effect applied to an everyday situation, a very real one. You don’t have to go down to quantum scale to note it — it affects us all the time. Trying harder (like I was, saying to myself prior to my brother’s arrival, that I will be as “natural” as I can be) simply doesn’t work. So instead of fighting this fact of life, let’s simply learn to acknowledge it.

KEEP LOOKING

Monday, May 9th, 2011

We find comfort in light. There is ample symbolism that gives light an undoubtedly positive meaning — the light leading to an Afterlife, light as serenity, peace (have you ever seen any peace symbol that was surrounded by darkness?), energy, goodness.

But there is something better than light. It’s the twilight; it’s the knowledge that the light is there somewhere, it just needs to be found. The anticipation of light gives us hope and keeps us going.

In ancient mythology, there is a concept of Paradise Lost, mankind’s fall from grace. But in my view, Paradise is not really lost. Man did not fail or screw up. Instead, Man was shown a glimpse of Paradise, and then told to earn it. Without seeing it in the first place, Man would never feel incentivized to keep looking for it.

In a way, what makes us human is our desire to keep looking. We are always aiming for the next great thing. Progress is just a disguise for mankind’s search of answers to the infinite stream of questions. It doesn’t matter how many questions are left. It doesn’t matter where and when Paradise will be found. We’ll keep looking — that’s all that matters.

The Four Types of Information Assimilation

Thursday, December 30th, 2010

We assimilate information in varying degrees. I can identify four fundamental stages, from least to most permanent and effective. It’s important to be aware of this spectrum (and of the differences between the stages) because we often make incorrect assumptions about our understanding of something (and, consequently, our ability to use that understanding).

  • Reception — this is a necessary condition for information assimilation, but it is almost never sufficient. We need to receive the information (see it, hear it, etc.) but if we don’t do anything with it, our brain will simply filter it out. We can hear things, but if we don’t pay attention to what we hear, we will not absorb any of the information — it will appear in our subconscious and disappear as soon as we context switch into anything else that engages us.
  • Focus — by listening (as opposed to just hearing), we tell our brain to start processing the information. Just focusing on it, however, is not indicative of a high absorption rate: our brains need to process it in a way that makes the information fit in with our thought framework. This is the idea behind the next stage.
  • Understand — if we process the information and convince ourselves that it fits in with the rest of our world models, we understand it now. This is where most people end their assimilation process. In other words, when quizzed, they can explain the information; it makes sense to them; when asked if it applies to a particular circumstance, they can provide the correct answer. However, this is reactive behavior — just understanding is most times not sufficient to naturally pattern match and proactively know when the information is relevant. For example, we can understand what the word obsequious means but we won’t be able to produce it when we need to because understanding is not sufficient. We need a stronger form of assimilation.
  • Internalizion — this I believe to be the final stage of assimilation. Once we’ve internalized something, it becomes a natural part of our world model. We can produce it on demand; we know when to produce it; it becomes natural to us. Usually long exposure to something allows us to internalize it. For example, people understand the mechanics of driving pretty quickly but it takes practice to internalize the rules, guidelines, and systems they’ve learned so that driving can become natural, almost common-sensical.

Most of us stop at understanding, which is dangerous because it provides a shallow form of assimilation. THe information they’ve understood is not readily available. It’s important to be aware of the distinction between understanding and internalization, and to know when understanding alone is simply not going to cut it.

Navigation maps facing north

Thursday, November 18th, 2010

I have gotten a lot of shit weird looks from my friends when I explain to them that I like the Nav in my car to have the map facing north (as opposed to facing the direction of travel). Apparently it’s common sense to do the latter.

I disagree. It has everything to do with one’s objectives. If all you care about is optimizing for the user experience understanding directions, then yes, having the map face the direction of travel is better. It’s clear when to turn left and right because the map reflects what ahead of you so you can mimic easily. But for me there is an important objective that I think people undervalue: I value knowing where I am. In other words, I value having a mental model of the area, which allows me to gain intuitive understanding of how far things are and how to get from one place to another without a navigation system (an incredibly useful skill if you don’t have your nav, or if you have the annoying ones that don’t let you the passenger key in directions while you’re driving). There is something really powerful in having a good understanding of your surroundings; it gives you a firm ground.

You simply can’t build that mental model if the map keeps rotating, because there is no invariant that your brain can stick to.

And for anyone who gets confused translating turns on a rotated map into car turns, here is a better paradigm that I use: instead of thinking of turns as “left” and “right”, get used to thinking of them as “clockwise” and “counterclockwise”. Those concepts are invariant under a rotating map so you’ll never get confused.

What is Intelligence (part II)

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Let me try something dangerous and talk about intelligence without really defining it; there are many different kinds of intelligence and the arguments here will hold for most definitions I can think of. The necessary requirement is that intelligence is an emergent property of individuals (not necessarily humans; not even necessarily biological life forms but for now constrained to life forms in general–in the sense of mutating auto-replication and pursuit of survival) that allows them to adapt to changing conditions on an intra-generational scale (evolution, for example, is a mechanism for adaptation on an inter-generational scale). I believe (though, quite frankly, haven’t thought hard about it) this is sufficient to go on.

Is intelligence a necessary artifact of evolution? To expand on this, what set of circumstances make intelligence a much more desirable trait than other traits, and how likely is intelligence to emerge? Evolution deals with randomness — it’s a greedy random walk, favoring changes that increase the species’ chance of survival. What makes intelligence better than, say, a stronger set of legs? I have two theories. First, as life forms evolve and strengthen their physical characteristics, it becomes inefficient to continue the physical growth; either it leads to massive energy needs which begin to outweigh the individual’s abilities to gather food, or it leads to side effects inherent in the mechanics of a body (stronger legs may lead to worse injuries). Evolution, essentially, runs out of avenues to pursue and non-physical development becomes the most energy-efficient. Secondly (now I realize the two theories are related), evolution’s greatest limitation is its speed — it must act over generations; and with complex enough organisms the generation cannot be very short. If the natural circumstances favor quick adaptability (for example, a series of ice ages come and go too quickly for any single species to evolve around them), evolution must replace itself with intelligence.

Of course, I may be wrong and intelligence could just be a fluke.

Regardless, if I wanted to have a particular characteristic evolve, I could manufacture a world which favors that characteristic and watch nature come up with it through a process of evolution. In the extreme, if all I had was plants and wanted the species to be able to walk, I would provide incentives for the plants to displace themselves (maybe an ever-moving source of food). Early species will probably simply grow fast, or maybe have the ability to detach themselves from the soil and attach themselves back, propelled by wind. Ultimately species would develop self-propulsion (I could help them by providing a negative incentive to simply go where the wind takes them). Nature would “cheat” and use water as an interim medium — it’s easier to be able to walk if you are already swimming — and so we can see how ultimately we would have species able to walk.

Similarly, what would I have to do to favor intelligence?

I did make an assumption that the life form evolves, that is, life replicates itself (a “species” composed of a single individual that doesn’t die cannot evolve) with mutations between successive generations. In order for evolution (that is, a long-term progression) to take place, there must be survival of the fittest, and with it, the favoring of life to non-life by the individuals. That second assumption is interesting because I’m not quite sure how it came about and why it holds true for species. With intelligent species such as humans you could make an argument that the will to live is an outcome of consciousness — a constantly running narrative of our life, created thanks to the development of memory and the ability to make connections (non-intelligent species have memory but they can’t connect it into a narrative) — but for all other species, it’s not so black-and-white.

It’s, obviously, just as fascinating to talk about why intelligence exists as how it exists — I think that we tend to focus too much on the latter and not enough on the former (and the theories above are just a small step towards that thought). But, on the how, we can learn a lot just by drawing a parallel between it and other non-mental features of evolution. Intelligence requires the environment — and with it sensory inputs and the feedback element with the environment. Intelligence is a wonderful example of a (relatively — all purists calm down) binary characteristic that nevertheless came about gradually from non-intelligence (just as flight came from non-flight; the outcome is clearly distinct but it’s not immediately clear how non-flight evolved into flight).

School of the Future

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

What will the school of the future look like? What should it look like?

Rilke in one of his letter wrote that “Each person ought to be guided only to the point where he becomes capable of thinking by himself, working by himself, learning by himself” and I think that in the future, the educational system will embrace that philosophy, together with — also from Rilke — “Schools ought to think about all in terms of individuals, not in terms of grades.”

What would it mean to embrace these statements? Well, first, schools need to be personalized. Through teaching various people in wildly different circumstances (teaching math to a seven-year-old; teaching college students; on-boarding new hires) I realized that different people learn differently, and the element of feedback is crucial to continuing progress; in other words, if the specific lesson someone took (as opposed to being given–which implies passivity) from a session isn’t reflected on by the teacher and built upon, the teaching is not going to succeed.

Fortunately, technology can make this possible, giving the teacher leverage he or she could never have dreamt of. However, historically the teaching industry has been going through much slower release cycles and so it will probably take a long time before any change is apparent.

This is one part of the “thinking in terms of individuals, not grades” philosophy — instead of standardizing on the outcome, think about how the teaching is internalized by each student. Another part has to do with the goal of education itself — that goal is to increase the intellectual capacity of an individual, not to produce a society that achieves high grades. The latter is just a construct of the educational system and just as any system that starts overly relying on its metrics, it runs a significant risk of the educators losing sight of the goal (not to mention the reality of any standardized system being game-able by those who have spent a lot of time in it). So in addition to focusing on the individual, we will have to come up with more meaningful success metrics, probably more qualitative ones (since the tuition will be so individualized, we will no longer be able to come up with a single number to describe an entire population).

“Guiding each person up to a point” is just as important. I’ve always thought that the purpose of school is to teach you to think, not to teach you anything specific–the specific may be a side effect, a necessary outcome of a particular educational design (and may be required no matter what design, although we don’t know that), but should definitely not be a goal onto itself. This also means specific knowledge should not be used as a determinant of how well someone has been taught.

In a way, nobody should ever “fail” an education — the point of education should be to determine someone’s potential and enable them to achieve it by themselves. Of course, an individual may choose not to fulfill that potential, but that is not a failing of the educational system (or, at least, not a primary failing of it); it’s probably a failing of the value system instilled by the parents and the society. Today the educational system also plays a role in providing these values; it would be interesting to decouple the two in order to focus better on the thing an individual has a problem with — and possibly use different techniques for either.

My friend E.P. had a particular design for a school of the future: it should teach the concept of a concept, and hopefully at some point the students will understand that this meta-ness is a fundamental block of reasoning and intelligence. I think while it’s an elegant design, it’s impractical — the students need to be bootstrapped first, before they can understand what meta-ness is. Focusing on the concept of a concept for its own sake will probably not lead to a good internalization.

I think back to my education. How much time did it take me to get to the point where I could think for myself? Specifically, when did I internalize that things are related in hierarchies, and that there are different kinds of relationships between the objects in hierarchies, for example an “instance-of” relationship. It took a while, and by the time I understood these concepts viscerally, I could say that the education satisfied an important objective. But the way I got there was certainly complicated and had many diverse and uncorrelated paths — trial and error, learning by example, learning by rote, learning by thinking (surprisingly not much of it!).

We will not get to the school of the future overnight. It probably needs a revolution just like many other industries did. But there is little economic incentive for this to happen — schools are monopolies and profit is not usually correlated with efficiency (which reminds me of the DMV). Teaching by definition takes longer. Unlike e.g. the financial sector, it’s very difficult to come up with good metrics for success. And the barrier for entry is huge (can a startup really revolutionize an educational system?).

There have been instances in the past of people overcoming similar obstacles. So I am hopeful. And while I wait, I may come up with my own syllabus…

Disposable Software

Monday, October 4th, 2010

So far we have been optimizing our software development practices for the increased lifetime of our software — yes, simple features, especially around the beginning of the project will take a long time to develop because we want to structure our code in a way that will reduce tech debt in the future. We tend to keep tech debt at a steady low number — something like 10% — precisely because it’s debt, and we don’t want to pay it off over a long period of time.

What if we make it easier for software to be thrown away, and start optimizing for rapid release? That would be a huge paradigm shift: our users would have to get used to the feature set changing rapidly, even losing feature they may like. There are some cool things we could do, for example write code that literally expires (and a countdown clock for the user so he/she is not surprised when the feature disappears).

Something to think about…