A Good Mix

Only in times of war or national emergencies do we call upon and assemble interdisciplinary teams to help find workable solutions to varying social problems.

If we apply the same efforts of scientific mobilization as we do during a war, large-scale beneficial effects can be achieved in a relatively short time. This could readily be accomplished by utilizing many of our universities, training facilities, and staff to best determine possible alternative methods to solving these problems.

[...] An interdisciplinary team of systems engineers, computer programmers, architects, city planners, sociologists, psychologists, educators and the like would also be needed [...]

[Jacque Fresco]
'The Future and Beyond', see here

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Another reason that class has become less visible even as it's become more determinant is social networking.

The internet has allowed us to filter our contact with others to such an extent that we're seldom likely to encounter anyone who thinks or feels significantly differently online -- unless we consciously seek them out.

And why would we do that? To "challenge our own values"? Because "it's good for us"?

[Momus]
From Click Opera, here.

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Chinese Whispers
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Status Quo
To Be Found or to Find

Separations and Bridges


Blake noted that "A tear is an intellectual thing," and Pascal asserted that "The heart has its reasons of which the reason knows nothing."

We need not be put off by the fact that the reasonings of the heart (or of the hypothalamus) are accompanied by sensations of joy or grief.

These computations are concerned with matters which are vital to mammals, namely, matters of relationship, by which I mean love, hate, respect, dependency, spectatorship, performance, dominance, and so on.

These are central to the life of any mammal and I see no objection to calling these computations "thought," though certainly the units of relational computation are different from the units which we use to compute about isolable things.

But there are bridges between the one sort of thought and the other, and it seems to me that the artists and poets are specifically concerned with these bridges. 

It is not that art is the expression of the unconscious, but rather that it is concerned with the relation between the levels of mental process.

From a work of art it may be possible to analyze out some unconscious thoughts of the artist, but I believe that, for example, Freud's analysis of Leonardo's Virgin on the Knees of St. Anne precisely misses the point of the whole exercise. Artistic skill is the combining of many levels of mind - unconscious, conscious, and external - to make a statement of their combination. It is not a matter of expressing a single level.

Similarly, Isadora Duncan, when she said, "If I could say it, I would not have to dance it," was talking nonsense, because her dance was about combinations of saying and moving.

[Gregory Bateson]
Steps to an Ecology of Mind, p.470

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Where language ends and art begins
Levels of Meaning
Everything is Connected

Conscious / Unconscious



Conscious       -      Unconscious
Outwards        -      Inwards 
Simple            -      Complex
Narrow           -      Wide
Centralised     -      Distributed  
Rational          -      Intuitive
Cortical           -      Limbic
Reactive          -      Active

 


The conscious, purposeful mind strives for completion. Taken to its extreme, it sees only order and denies anything that may disrupt that order. It is hostile to news of foreign lands. It believes it has a hold on things, that it can see the full picture; it mistakes its limited view for omniscience.

Yet every thing it creates - every story, plan, structure, or theory - has a hole in it, a place where something is missing. This hole is the gateway to everything else, to all those things that have been left out; and through it chaos can be heard, like a whistling wind. It is the gateway to our unconscious mind.




[...] the very meaning of "survival" becomes different when we stop talking about the survival of something bounded by the skin and start to think of the survival of the system of ideas in a circuit.

The contents of the skin are randomized at death and the pathways within the skin are randomized. But the ideas, under further transformation, may go on out in the world in books or works of art. Socrates as a bioenergetic individual is dead. But much of him still lives as a component on the contemporary ecology of ideas.

The individual mind is immanent but not only in the body. It is immanent also in pathways and messages outside the body; and there is a larger Mind of which the individual mind is only a subsystem.

This larger Mind is comparable to God and is perhaps what some people mean by "God," but it is still immanent in the total interconnected social system and planetary ecology.

Freudian psychology expanded the concept of mind inwards to include the whole communication system within the body - the automatic, the habitual, and the vast range of unconscious process. What I am saying expands mind outwards.

And both of these changes reduce the scope of the conscious self. A certain humility becomes appropriate, tempered by the dignity or joy of being a part of something much bigger.

A part - if you will - of God.

[Gregory Bateson]
Steps to an Ecology of Mind, p.467-8




Consciousness operates in the same way as medicine in its sampling of the events and processes of the body and of what goes on in the total mind.

It is organized in terms of purpose.

It is a short-cut device to enable you to get quickly at what you want; not to act with maximum wisdom in order to live, but to follow the shortest logical or causal path to get what you next want, which may be dinner; it may be a Beethoven sonata; it may be sex. Above all, it may be money or power.

[With the capabilities of modern technology] Conscious purpose is now empowered to upset the balances of the body, of society, and of the biological world around us. A pathology - a loss of balance - is threatened.

On the one hand, we have the systemic nature of the individual human being, the systemic nature of the culture in which he lives, and the systemic nature of the biological, ecological system around him; and, on the other hand, the curious twist in the systemic nature of the individual man whereby consciousness is, almost of necessity, blinded to the systemic nature of the man himself.

Purposive consciousness pulls out, from the total mind, sequences which do not have the loop structure which is characteristic of the whole systemic structure. If you follow the "common sense" dictates of consciousness you become, effectively, greedy and unwise - again I use "wisdom" as a word for recognition of and guidance by a knowledge of the total systemic creature.

[Gregory Bateson]
Steps to an Ecology of Mind ('Conscious Purpose versus Nature'), p.439-40




The world of consciousness is inevitably a world full of restrictions, of walls blocking the way. It is of necessity one sided, because of the nature of consciousness itself.

No consciousness can harbour more than a very small number of simultaneous perceptions.

All else must lie in shadow, with drawn from sight.

Any increase in the simultaneous contents immediately produces a dimming of consciousness, if not confusion to the point of disorientation.

Consciousness not only requires, but is of its very nature strictly limited to, the few and hence the distinct [...]

We have to make do, so to speak, with a minimum of simultaneous perceptions and successions of images. Hence in wide areas possible perceptions are continuously excluded, and consciousness is always bound to the narrowest circle.

[...] everything subliminal holds within it the ever-present possibility of being perceived and represented in consciousness. The unconscious is an irrepresentable totality of all subliminal psychic factors, a "total vision" in potentia. It constitutes the total disposition from which consciousness singles out tiny fragments from time to time.

[C.G. Jung]
Psychology and the East ('Foreword to the Introduction to Zen Buddhism'), p.167-8




Dr Izutsu suggests thinking of Jung's Collective Unconscious as the consciousness of such a Collective Unconscious [if the Collective Unconscious were a thing, then it would be that thing's consciousness].

Jung chose that name because he was viewing it from the ego's perspective. If, in contrast, we start from the complete nondivision of Mind-Suchness [Buddha Mind, all things, the whole], we would then consider the Collective Unconscious also as conscious but at an extremely deep level where it is transpersonal, expanding to the whole of humankind.

This sort of transpersonal, total-consciousness field in The Awakening of Faith sutra is called "Shujo-shin," or "Collective Mind."

This Collective Mind has two aspects. It has the expansion of cognitive total-unity, which contains every kind of existence, including Jung's Collective Unconscious. At the same time, it has our ordinary daily consciousness.

That is, it is constantly swinging back and forth between ordinary consciousness and the transpersonal, cosmic cognition.

[Hayao Kawai]
Buddhism and the Art of Psychotherapy, p.126




Part of the reason that the bible is full of internal contradictions, is the same reason that a dream is full of internal contradictions.

Imagine you have an impressionist painting: it’s messy, and the image emerges - and you might say, ‘well, we could replace that with a nice clean line drawing, or even a sequence of stick figures, and get the basic point across.’ Well, you would, but the inarticulable richness would be lost in the premature attempt to bring logical closure to the phenomena.

That may be the difference between dreams and waking thought: waking thought sacrifices completeness, for coherence; dream thought sacrifices coherence for completeness.

Precise thought excludes too much, and imprecise thought is not sufficiently coherent. So we do both.

Precise thought: left hemisphere, linguistically mediated, sequential, logical.
Incoherent but complete thought: imagistic, emotion-based, right hemisphere.

The right hemisphere even has a more diffuse structure - it’s like the right hemisphere is trying to get a picture of everything. It’s not going to be a very detailed picture, because it’s a picture of everything, full of contradictions. But at least it’s a picture of everything.

And the left says, ‘that’s not good enough for precise action.’ And it’s not. So we narrow it to precision, but lose the richness.

You need both, so there’s an interplay. The documents that the Bible is composed of are half dream and half articulated thought, and they have the advantages [and] disadvantages of both. To the degree that it’s articulated, it’s in a dogmatic box; to the degree that it’s a dream, it’s still incoherent.

The problem is, you have to move through the entire world, even though you don’t know it in detail. So you need detailed knowledge, where detailed knowledge is necessary; and you need vague-but-complete knowledge where that’s necessary. Its a very uncomfortable balance. We have to face everything, even though we don’t understand anything completely.

[Jordan B. Peterson]
'2017 Maps of Meaning 10: Genesis and the Buddha'




[…] that’s what consciousness is doing all the time. You’re laying out an automatised routine, and if that doesn’t produce the intended outcome, you stop [and] become conscious. There’s nothing like an error to make you conscious. Then you do a high-resolution analysis of the space in which the error emerged, [and] you [recalibrate] to make that error go away.

To some degree the purpose of consciousness is to make you functional unconsciously. You don’t want to be conscious of most things.

If you’re good at something, you hardly have to be conscious of it at all. So consciousness is something like an error-detection-and-rectification system.

[Being conscious means] always attending to your errors. If you’re always attending to your errors, you’re always improving your automated adaptability.

Your consciousness seems to be continually building your unconscious.

[Jordan B. Peterson]
'2017 Maps of Meaning 6: Story and Metastory (Part 2)'




If it is fashionable today to minimize the importance of the knowledge of the particular circumstances of time and place, this is closely connected with the smaller importance which is now attached to change as such.

Indeed, there are few points on which the assumptions made (usually only implicitly) by the "planners" differ from those of their opponents as much as with regard to the significance and frequency of changes which will make substantial alterations of production plans necessary.

Of course, if detailed economic plans could be laid down for fairly long periods in advance and then closely adhered to, so that no further economic decisions of importance would be required, the task of drawing up a comprehensive plan governing all economic activity would be much less formidable.

It is, perhaps, worth stressing that economic problems arise always and only in consequence of change. So long as things continue as before, or at least as they were expected to, there arise no new problems requiring a decision, no need to form a new plan.

But those who clamor for "conscious direction"—and who cannot believe that anything which has evolved without design (and even without our understanding it) should solve problems which we should not be able to solve consciously—should remember this: The problem is precisely how to extend the span of our utilization of resources beyond the span of the control of any one mind; and therefore, how to dispense with the need of conscious control, and how to provide inducements which will make the individuals do the desirable things without anyone having to tell them what to do.

As Alfred Whitehead has said in another connection, "It is a profoundly erroneous truism, repeated by all copy-books and by eminent people when they are making speeches, that we should cultivate the habit of thinking what we are doing. The precise opposite is the case. Civilization advances by extending the number of important operations which we can perform without thinking about them."

[Friedrich Hayek]
'The Use of Knowledge in Society'




In general terms, then, the left hemisphere yields narrow, focussed attention, mainly for the purpose of getting and feeding. The right hemisphere yields a broad, vigilant attention, the purpose of which appears to be awareness of signals from the surroundings, especially of other creatures, who are potential predators or potential mates, foes or friends; and it is involved in bonding in social animals.

It might be then that the division of the human brain is also the result of the need to bring to bear two incompatible types of attention on the world at the same time, one narrow, focussed, and directed by our needs, and the other broad, open, and directed towards whatever else is going on in the world apart from ourselves.

In humans, just as in animals and birds, it turns out that each hemisphere attends to the world in a different way - and the ways are consistent.

The right hemisphere underwrites breadth and flexibility of attention, where the left hemisphere brings to bear focussed attention. 

This has the related consequence that the right hemisphere sees things whole, in and their context, where the left hemisphere sees things abstracted from context, and broken into parts, from which it then reconstructs a 'whole': something very different.

[Iain McGilchrist]
The Master and his Emissary, p. 27-8




Perhaps inevitably Heidegger’s last writings are in the form of poems. Wittgenstein also saw the true process of philosophy as a way of transcending or healing the effects of philosophy in the philosophical mind: philosophy is itself a disease, as Karl Kraus said of psychoanalysis, for which it purports to be the cure. 

Merleau-Ponty, more explicitly than either, held out the hope that we could learn to see things again by a process of surréflexion, hyper-reflection, which would help redress the distorting effects of consciousness by making us conscious of them. This idea had already occurred to the Romantics. 

At the end of his famous essay ‘On the Upper Theatre’, Kleist offers the possibility that the crippling effects of self-consciousness may be transcended through a form of still further heightened consciousness, by which we might regain a form of innocence.

‘Grace appears purest in that human form which has either no consciousness or an infinite one, that is, in a puppet or in a god.’
‘Therefore’, I said, somewhat bewildered, ‘we would have to eat again from the Tree of Knowledge in order to return to the state of innocence?’
‘Quire right,’ he answered. ‘And that’s the last chapter in the history of the world.’

With that his essay closes. In this last phrase Kleist may be warning us, as Holderlin does, that what we crave can be had only in another world, where there are gods. But his essay also confirms that we can move only onward, not backwards, and that by doing so we might transcend our situation and in this way return to something lost.

[Iain McGilchrist]
The Master and His Emissary, 451




Known

Humans, acting collectively, can make systems that might otherwise be complex or chaotic into known systems; we impose order through laws and practices that have sufficient universal acceptance to create predictable environments.

On the negative side, the imposed structure can continue beyond its useful life.

In this domain we categorize incoming stimuli, and once categorized we respond in accordance with predefined procedures. 

Leadership tends to a feudal model, with budget having replaced land as the controlling mechanism.



Knowable

We do not yet know all the linkages, but they can be discovered. This is the domain of experts, whose expertise enables us to manage by delegation without the need for categorization.

Again there is a human imposition of order but it is more fluid than in the space of the known.

A major issue in the space of the knowable is entrainment of thinking. The very thing that enables expertise to develop, namely the codification of expert language, leads inevitably to entrainment of thinking. Exhortations to remain open to new ideas are unlikely to succeed.

Management of this space requires the cyclical disruption of perceived wisdom. The common context of expertise is both an enabler and blocker to knowledge creation, and from time to time context must be removed to allow the emergence of new meaning.

In this space we sense and respond based on our expert understanding of the situation while the leadership models are oligarchic – requiring consent of the elders of the community and interestingly oligarchies are often less innovative than the idiosyncrasies of feudalism.



Complex

The nature of the complex domain is the management of patterns. We need to identify the early signs of a pattern forming and disrupt those we find undesirable while stabilizing those we want. If we are really clever then we seed the space to encourage the formation of patterns that we can control.

These patterns are emergent properties of the interactions of the various agents. By increasing information flow, variety and connectiveness either singly or in combination we can break down existing patterns and create the conditions under which new patterns will emerge, although the nature of emergence is not predictable.

Entrepreneurs manage in this space instinctively while large organizations find it more uncomfortable. In this domain leadership cannot be imposed, it is emergent based on natural authority and respect but it is not democratic, it is matriarchal or patriarchal.



Chaos

Chaos represents the consequence of excessive structure or massive change, both of which can cause linkages to sunder. As such it is a space that requires crisis management and is not comfortable or entered with any enthusiasm by other than the insane.

However it is one of the most useful spaces, and one that needs to be actively managed. It provides a means by which entrainment of thinking can be disrupted by breaking down the assumptions on which expertise is based.

It is also a space into which most management teams and all knowledge programs will be precipitated; however, regular immersion in a controlled way can immunize the organization and create patterns of behavior that will pay dividends when markets create those conditions.

We also need to remember that what to one organization is chaotic, to another is complex or knowable. 

In the chaotic domain the most important thing is to act, then we can sense and respond. Leadership in this domain is about power – either tyranny or charisma. Both models impose order, and if order is imposed without loss of control, then the new space is capable of being used to advantage.

[Dave Snowden]
'Complex Acts of Knowing: Paradox and Descriptive Self-Awareness'




The more orderly, less random, patterned, and narratized a series of words and symbols, the easier it is to store that series in one’s mind or jot it down in a book so your grandchildren can read it someday.

With so many brain cells - one hundred billion (and counting) - the attic is quite large, so the difficulties probably do not arise from storage capacity limitations, but may be just indexing problems. Your conscious, or working, memory, the one you are using to read these lines and make sense of their meaning, is considerably smaller than the attic. Consider that your working memory has difficulty holding a mere phone number longer than seven digits.

Change metaphors slightly and imagine that your consciousness is a desk in the Library of Congress: no matter how many books the library holds, and makes available for retrieval, the size of your desk sets some processing limitations.

Compression is vital to the performance of conscious work […] By finding the pattern, the logic of the series, you no longer need to memorise it all. You just store the pattern. 

[Nassim Nicholas Taleb]
The Black Swan, p. 68




System 1, the experiential one, is effortless, automatic, fast, opaque (we do not know that we are using it), parallel-processed, and can lend itself to errors. It is what we call “intuition” […] It produces shortcuts, called “heuristics,” that allow us to function rapidly and effectively. Dan Goldstein calls these heuristics “fast and frugal.” Others prefer to call them “quick and dirty.”

System 2, the cogitative one, is what we normally call thinking. It is what you use in a classroom, as it is effortful, reasoned, slow, logical, serial, progressive, and self-aware (you can follow the steps in your reasoning). It makes fewer mistakes than the experiential system, and, since you know how you derived your result, you can retrace your steps and correct them in an adaptive manner.

You have to make an effort (System 2) to override your first reaction. Clearly Mother Nature makes you use the fast System 1 to get out of trouble, so that you do not sit down and cogitate whether there is truly a tiger attacking you or if it is an illusion. You run immediately, before you become “conscious” of the presence of the tiger.

Emotions are assumed to be the weapon System 1 uses to direct us and force us to act quickly. It mediates risk avoidance far more effectively than our cognitive system.

Note that neurobiologists make, roughly, a similar distinction to that between System 1 and System 2, except that they operate along anatomical lines. Their distinction differentiates between parts of the brain, the cortical part, which we are supposed to use for thinking, and which distinguishes us from other animals, and the fast-reacting limbic brain, which is the centre of emotions, and which we share with other animals.

[Nassim Nicholas Taleb]
The Black Swan, p. 82




'Inattentional blindness' - we do not see what we do not expect to see.

The most anybody [...] will scan of the available data before you make a decision is about five percent. That’s on a good day, if you’re really focused. If you’re Chinese it is ten percent (there are actually different evolutionary processes in the brain as a result of symbolic as opposed to non-symbolic language).

You then make a decision based on a first-fit pattern match privileging your most recent experiences - that’s called conceptual blending. You scan five percent of the data, that causes trigger of memories of your own experience - things you were taught, things you learned from other people in narrative form - you blend that together and you come up with a unique form of action.

That’s how you make decisions - unless you’re fully autistic. The only people who make rational decisions by assessing all available data are autistic, which is why they can’t operate.

If you think about it in evolutionary terms, you can see why this happens. If you imagine the first hominids on the savannahs of Africa, something large and yellow with very sharp teeth runs toward you at very high speed. Do you want to autistically scan all available data, look up a catalogue of the flora and fauna of the African veldt, and having identified ‘lion’ look up best practice case-studies on how to avoid lions?

We evolved to make decisions very quickly based on a partial data scan, privileging our most recent experiences.

In modern cognitive science we don’t call these biases, we call them heuristics. Evolution doesn’t produce things that have no utility. So-called biases are actually heuristics that allow us to make decisions faster.

[Dave Snowden]
'Dealing with unanticipated needs – Dave Snowden'




Man, like every living being, thinks continually without knowing it; the thinking that rises to consciousness is only the smallest part of all this - the most superficial and worst part - for only this conscious thinking takes the form of words, which is to say signs of communication, and this fact uncovers the origin of consciousness.

In brief, the development of language and the development of consciousness (not of reason but merely of the way reason enters consciousness) go hand in hand […] The human being inventing signs is at the same time the human being who becomes ever more keenly conscious of himself. It was only as a social animal that man acquired self-consciousness—which he is still in the process of doing, more and more.

My idea is, as you see, that consciousness does not really belong to man's individual existence but rather to his social or herd nature; that, as follows from this, it has developed subtlety only insofar as this is required by social or herd utility. 

Consequently, given the best will in the world to understand ourselves as individually as possible, "to know ourselves," each of us will always succeed in becoming conscious only of what is not individual but "average.” Our thoughts themselves are continually governed by the character of consciousness - by the "genius of the species” that commands it - and translated back into the perspective of the herd. Fundamentally, all our actions are altogether incomparably personal, unique, and infinitely individual; there is no doubt of that. But as soon as we translate them into consciousness they no longer seem to be.

This is the essence of phenomenalism and perspectivism as I understand them: Owing to the nature of animal consciousness, the world of which we can become conscious is only a surface and sign-world, a world that is made common and meaner; whatever becomes conscious becomes by the same token shallow, thin, relatively stupid, general, sign, herd signal; all becoming conscious involves a great and thorough corruption, falsification, reduction to superficialities, and generalisation. 

Ultimately, the growth of consciousness becomes a danger; and anyone who lives among the most conscious Europeans even knows that it is a disease.

We simply lack any organ for knowledge, for “truth”: we “know” (or believe or imagine) just as much as may be useful in the interests of the human herd, the species: and even what is here called “utility” is ultimately also a mere belief, something imaginary, and perhaps precisely that most calamitous stupidity of which we shall perish some day.

[Friedrich Nietzsche]
The Gay Science, 354




Consciousness is the last and latest development of the organic and hence also what is most unfinished and unstrong. 

Consciousness gives rise to countless errors that lead an animal or man to perish sooner than necessary, "exceeding destiny," as Homer puts it. If the conserving association of the instincts were not so very much more powerful, and if it did not serve on the whole as a regulator, humanity would have to perish of its misjudgments and its fantasies with open eyes, of its lack of thoroughness and its credulity - in short, of its consciousness; rather, without the former, humanity would long have disappeared.

Before a function is fully developed and mature it constitutes a danger for the organism, and it is good if during the interval it is subjected to some tyranny. Thus consciousness is tyrannized - not least by our pride in it. 

One thinks that it constitutes the kernel of man; what is abiding, eternal, ultimate, and most original in him. One takes consciousness for a determinate magnitude. One denies its growth and its intermittences. One takes it for the "unity of the organism."

This ridiculous overestimation and misunderstanding of consciousness has the very useful consequence that it prevents an all too fast development of consciousness. Believing that they possess consciousness, men have not exerted themselves very much to acquire it; and things haven’t changed much in this respect. 

To this day the task of incorporating knowledge and making it instinctive is only beginning to dawn on the human eye and is not yet clearly discernible; it is a task that is seen only by those who have comprehended that so far we have incorporated only our errors and that all our consciousness relates to errors.

[Friedrich Nietzsche]
The Gay Science, 11




The purpose of consciousness is to create coherence in your perceptual representations, remove conflicts, predict the future, [and] construct counterfactual representations so that you can coordinate your actions and so on.

[Joscha Bach]
'Joscha Bach: Nature of Reality, Dreams, and Consciousness | Lex Fridman Podcast #212'




When the reformers tell us that society can be improved by education, by increasing men's knowledge, by projecting the correct program and then taking action to realize that program, they are wrong because men in society do not act that way.

Their actions, their socially decisive actions, spring not from logical but from non-logical roots.

Pareto not only shows that non-logical conduct is predominant; his crucial point is that the conduct which has a bearing on social and political structure, on what he calls the “social equilibrium," is above all the arena of the nonlogical.

What happens to society, whether it progresses or decays, is free or despotic, happy or miserable, poor or prosperous, is only to the slightest degree influenced by the deliberate, rational purposes held by human beings.

Taboos, magic, superstition, personified abstractions, myths, gods, empty verbalisms, in every culture and at every period of history express man's persisting non-logical impulses. The forms change, but the fundamentals remain.

Gods and goddesses like Athena or Janus or Ammon are replaced by new divinities such as Progress and Humanity and even Science; hymns to Jupiter give way to invocations to the People; the magic of votes and electoral manipulations supersedes the magic of dolls and wands; faith in the Historical Process does duty for faith in the God of our Fathers.

[James Burnham]
The Machiavellians: Defenders of Freedom, p.158-9, 63




Humans are capable of reason yet most of our thinking is intuitive and emotional, both prone to systematic confirmation biases and various other heuristics.

Empirical data has proven David Hume right, that reason is the slave of the passions. The vast majority of reasoning proves to be post-hoc justification for decisions already made by instinctual intuition. Furthermore, our relative blindness to these heuristics leads to a systematic overrating of our capability, our contributions to projects, our capacity to assess risks, and our capacity to predict the future.

Humans are thus guilty of endemic hubris, which likely explains why the tale of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, was codified into a narrative by ancient wisdom.

 [Academic Agent]
'Groyper Meta-Analysis Part 2: Replying to Keith Woods'




In a truly distributed representation, the informational content of any specific weight is the result of such a dispersed process that it cannot be said to constitute anything specific. There are definitely not different kinds of weights (nomic, constitutive, inductive, etc.).

It is also a misunderstanding of the nature of distributed representation to think that it implements concepts or features by using clusters of components. That would merely be a refinement of a system of local representation. Instead of having one set of symbols with specific semantic interpretations, you now have another, perhaps with more symbols. Distributed representation allows you to discard this whole theoretical framework.

Instead of working with concepts or clusters of concepts, you work with a system of relationships at a sub-conceptual level that cannot be given, or rather, is not in need of a semantic interpretation at all.

'Distributed representation does not give you an invariant, context-independent representation.’ Since the initial state of two systems may vary, they will never be able to represent exactly the same concept. This is of course only a problem if you think that invariant, context-independent representations are necessary or should exist.

Postmodern or post-structural theories of meaning deny this by claiming that both synchronic and diachronic contexts are not only necessary, but constitutive of meaning. Since there are no theoretical limitations on the amount of information that can be fed into a network (given that the network has sufficient capacity), one can include as much of the context as one wishes.

Moreover, since the information is distributed, no explicit distinction between concept and context has to be made - they are encoded together; context is always already part of the representation.

Adding up the characteristics of distributed representation we have now worked through, it becomes clear that the very notion of representation has been undermined.

A distributed representation is not a representation in the conventional sense of the word. It dispenses with all the components of a representational system. There are no symbols that 'stand for’ something, there are no grammatical relationships between them, and the system itself has no need of a semantic level of interpretation at all.

Most philosophical positions throughout the Western intellectual tradition have been sceptical about the spontaneous emergence of order and structure.

In the absence of a rational explanation for such emergence, some kind of organising agent - God (as the ultimate designer) or some other a priori principle - was usually postulated. Yet self-organisation is neither a mystic process nor a random one, and should not be in conflict with any of our normal sensibilities [...] We need neither a central processor nor an outside observer.

[Paul Cilliers]
Complexity and Postmodernism, p.71-2,  89




A self-organising system reacts to the state of affairs in the environment, but simultaneously transforms itself as a result of these affairs, often affecting the environment in turn. Processes in the system are therefore neither simply passive reflections of the outside, nor are they actively determined from the inside. The very distinction between active and passive, as well as that between inside and outside, comes under pressure.

In a complex system, control does not emanate from a single source. Should this happen, the system would become degenerate, lose its adaptability and survive only as long as the environment remained stable.

Since the certainty with which the future can be predicted has been greatly reduced, any plan of action has to be adapted continuously.

If the plan is too rigid - too much central control - the system will not be able to cope with unpredictable changes. On the other hand, it will also be disastrous if the system tries to adjust itself to every superficial change, since such changes may easily be reversed without notice. The system will waste its resources in trying to follow every fluctuation instead of adapting to higher- order trends.

Being able to discriminate between changes that should be followed and changes that should be resisted is vital to the survival of any organisation (or organism). This is achieved optimally when the control of the system is not rigid and localised, but distributed over the system, ensuring that the positive dynamics of self-organisation is utilised effectively.

[Paul Cilliers]
Complexity and Postmodernism, p.108, 110




Does a theory of self-organisation claim that it is possible to describe human behaviour without recourse to a general system of values? If this question refers to values that are separate from, or prior to, the contingency of our existence, the answer has to be yes.

There is, however, another understanding of values which is not only compatible with a theory of self-organisation, but which can be viewed as a result of it. In this view, values are understood as emergent properties of the social system.

We have seen that distributed, decentralised control makes a system more flexible, and therefore increases its survivability. If we apply this notion to social systems, it would seem that we have an argument against rigid, centralised control mechanisms in, for example, the management of a company or the running of a state. Once again, this kind of critique against autocratic management or a fascist government is based not on the idea that these things are 'bad' per se, but rather on the knowledge that they will ultimately lead to the degeneration of the system in question.

Do these properties imply an ethics of self-organisation? I would be very hesitant to use the word 'ethics' here, unless it is an ethics in the sense of ‘principles that constitute a system', closer to the way in which Levinas would use the term.

[Paul Cilliers]
Complexity and Postmodernism, p.111




"The great activity is unconscious". Consciousness merely expresses the relation of certain reactive forces to the active forces which dominate them. Consciousness is essentially reactive; this is why we do not know what a body can do, or what activity it is capable of.

It is inevitable that consciousness sees the organism from its own point of view and understands it in its own way; that is to say, reactively. What happens is that science follows the paths of consciousness, relying entirely on other reactive forces; the organism is always seen from the petty side, from the side of its reactions.

What makes the body superior to all reactions, particularly that reaction of the ego that is called consciousness, is the activity of necessarily unconscious forces: "This entire phenomenon of the body is, from the intellectual point of view, as superior to our consciousness, to our spirit to our conscious ways of thinking, feeling and willing, as algebra is superior to the multiplication table".

The only true science is that of activity, but the science of activity is also the science of what is necessarily unconscious. The idea that science must follow in the footsteps of consciousness, in the same directions, is absurd. We can sense the morality in this idea. In fact there can only be science where there is no consciousness, where there can be no consciousness.

[...] Nietzsche wished to remind consciousness of its need for modesty: its origin, nature and function are wholly reactive.

[Gilles Deleuze]
Nietzsche and Philosophy, p.41-2, 113



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Digging Deeper
Get Real

Relevance





Out of an infinite number of potential differences, how do we choose which differences will make a difference? In other words, how do we decide which information is relevant?

It is context that defines relevance, and goals that define context. So it is our goals - the things we aim at - that confer sense, and that define the things that we see. Inasmuch as a 'context' is a kind of story, then it follows that we see what our stories allow us to see.

The realist believes that an object defines itself - in other words, it is a select number of inherent properties that make the object what it is, and it is these properties that we perceive. The object is not conditioned by the subject.

The pragmatist believes that the subject defines the object: that our goals - and the contexts that are conditioned by these goals - affect which information becomes relevant. The object is entirely conditioned by the subject.





There are an infinite number of ways to perceive or construe a given situation, and an infinite number of potential consequences of a given action or event […] Every “object” can be classified, even perceived, in an infinite number of manners. Every object must therefore be regarded as something infinitely complex – objectively, intrinsically.

We live in a virtual sea of complexity and uncertainty.

[…] how can a given entity be segregated from the parts that compose it, the situation of which it is a part, and the other entities to which it is related?

It has become painfully clear that whatever constitutes the definitive boundary of the objects that we manipulate both concretely and abstractly is not something simply intrinsic to those objects.
Events are simple and distinct only insofar as their relevant features are framed, a priori, by the constraints of an operative context.

We frame an object by cutting away vast swathes of information, indisputably associated with that object, but irrelevant to our current purposes, however those might be subjectively construed. Lacking subjectively determined constraint, therefore, even the most powerful information processors cannot compute the explosive complexity of the object – cannot even reliably define the edges of a regular solid, say, under changing conditions of lighting or position.

This means, to put it bluntly, that the concept of “object” itself is somewhat illusory. The world does not present itself neatly packaged into pre-existent categories, available for direct human perception and manipulation.

Nothing at all can be understood in the absence of a structured and subjective frame of reference. 

[Jordan B. Peterson]
‘Complexity Management Theory: Motivation for Ideological Rigidity and Social Conflict’, in Cortex, December 2002, p. 432-3





Sokolov [...] noted that creatures exposed to novel or anomalous stimuli responded with eye movement, or alterations in galvanic skin response, or “depression of brain-wave rhythms,” [known as the ‘orienting response’] and believed that these alterations were not due so much to “incoming excitation” as to signals of discrepancy which develop “when afferent signals are compared with the trace formed in the nervous system by an earlier signal.”

It is difficult to determine how an organism might manage anything as complex as an orienting response – which, as Sokolov described, might be elicited by “the slightest possible change” in a given stimulus – without first constructing an elaborated and detailed model of the world.

A given entity or object is actually very difficult to “perceive” – not so much because things in themselves lack structure, as classical nominalists might have it, but because that structure is so rich and variegated that it may be endlessly and variously construed.

Although there appear to be certain “basic level” categories that “leap out at us, and cry out to be named,” in the developmental psycholinguist Roger Brown’s terminology – so we naturally apprehend the table, instead of each of its four legs and its single flat surface – we do not know precisely how our perceptual and cognitive systems manage this apprehension.

[...] two things differ and are the same in as many ways as there are potential things to which they might be compared: books in a library, for example, might be categorized by the total number of “e’s” they contain, or by their age, or thickness, or by the number of atoms of selenium on the first page of their preface, or by how closely they approximate the weight of the average book.

It might well be objected: such classificatory strategies are ridiculous – but the problem with that objection is that the lack of utility of a given strategy is a judgement of value, not a necessity drawn by logic or by any conceivable objective standard (as any “objective” judgement requires the a priori establishment of value-based criteria to judge by).

And, if it is judgement of value that determines the validity of classification (or even of perception), then it could easily be that functional utility determines the nature of the object. 

A chair is not a chair because it shares a set or even a subset of identifiable objective properties. A chair is a chair because a person can sit on it. This makes a chair a tool, – a tool useful for specifically human purposes – and not a thing.


In the absence of a specific goal, or at least the possibility of a specific goal (which means in the absence of arbitrary and value-predicated constraint) the universe does not reveal itself as structured, or it reveals itself as too complexly structured, which is very much the same thing.


“Objects” are therefore not the simple constituent elements of the objective world, directly and simply perceived, but tools apprehended with difficulty, in the service of specific goals (and, furthermore, tools that may be perceived at very different levels of resolution). 

[Jordan B. Peterson]
‘Complexity Management Theory: Motivation for Ideological Rigidity and Social Conflict’, in Cortex, December 2002, p. 434-5






[Jung] points out that there are two worlds. We might call them two worlds of explanation. He names them the pleroma and the creatura, these being Gnostic terms.

The pleroma is the world in which events are caused by forces and impacts and in which there are no "distinctions." Or, as I would say, no "differences."

In the creatura, effects are brought about precisely by difference.

In fact, this is the same old dichotomy between mind and substance.

We can study and describe the pleroma, but always the distinctions which we draw are attributed by us to the pleroma. The pleroma knows nothing of difference and distinction; it contains no "ideas" in the sense in which I am using the word.

When we study and describe the creatura, we must correctly identify those differences which are effective within it. The creatura is thus the world seen as mind, wherever such a view is appropriate.

And wherever this view is appropriate, there arises a species of complexity which is absent from pleromatic description: creatural description is always hierarchic.

[...] there are differences between differences. Every effective difference denotes a demarcation, a line of classification, and all classification is hierarchic.

In other words, differences are themselves to be differentiated and classified.

[Gregory Bateson]
Steps to an Ecology of Mind, p.461-3




The way we behave in any situation has a lot to do with the context. We whisper in hospitals and become anxious in police stations, sad in cemeteries, docile in schools, and jovial at parties. Contexts control our behaviour, and our mindsets determine how we interpret each context.

Many of the contexts that affect us most deeply are learned in childhood. For instance, our early visual exposure to the world may actually shape what we later see.

A controversial study of Euro-Canadians brought up in urban settings where buildings surround them with right angles, and with Cree Indians raised near tents and lodges that have many shapes and angles, suggested that the effects of early visual context may be lasting. In adulthood, right angles could be seen better than other line orientations by the Euro-Canadians. At the same time, they seemed to have less visual acuity for oblique orientations than the Cree. From the beginning, the Cree have a different mental landscape which may allow them to take in a greater variety of visual cues.

The location of context in our perception was vividly illustrated in an experiment conducted by psychologists David Holmes and B. Kent Houston. With the permission of the subjects, they administered mild electric shocks to a group of people, half of whom were told to think of electric shocks as new "physiological sensations." Those who thought of the shock in this way were less anxious and had lower pulse rates than those who were not given the prior instructions.

The same situation or stimulus called by a different name is a different stimulus. Roller coasters are fun but bumpy plane rides are not.

It has long been known that values create a context that influences sense perceptions. In 1948, Leo Postman, Jerome Bruner, and Eliot McGinnies used a machine called a tachistoscope to flash words very quickly on a screen. These words were associated with various values.

For example, subjects were shown political words such as govern, citizen, and politics; religious words such as prayer, sacred, and worship; and aesthetic words such as poetry, artist, and beauty. Words were shown to subjects in random order.

Despite the fact that the chosen words were equally familiar, the speed with which subjects recognized the words varied as a consequence of the subjects' values, as measured by the same Allport-Vernon Scale given earlier to subjects.

The higher a subject's score on a particular value, the more quickly he or she recognized the word. Politically oriented subjects, for example, recognized political words sooner than the artistically oriented. The context created by the subjects' values appeared to affect their visual ability.

[Ellen Langer]
Mindfulness, p.35, 36, 38, 39, 40




A researcher named Jules Davidoff traveled to Namibia [...] where he conducted an experiment with the Himba tribe, which speaks a language that has no word for blue or distinction between blue and green.

When shown a circle with 11 green squares and one blue, they could not pick out which one was different from the others — or those who could see a difference took much longer and made more mistakes than would make sense to us, who can clearly spot the blue square.
But the Himba have more words for types of green than we do in English.

[...] Davidoff says that without a word for a color, without a way of identifying it as different, it is much harder for us to notice what is unique about it — even though our eyes are physically seeing the blocks it in the same way.

[Kevin Loria]
What is blue and how do we see colour? 




A text is a place where the irreducible polysemy of symbols is in fact reduced because in a text symbols are anchored to their context. 

The medieval interpreters were right: one should look for the rules which allow a contextual disambiguation of the exaggerated fecundity of symbols. Modern sensitivity deals on the contrary with myths as if they were macro symbols and - while acknowledging the infinite polysemy of symbols - no longer recognizes the discipline that myths impose on the symbols they involve. 

Thus many modern theories are unable to recognize that symbols are paradigmatically open to infinite meanings but syntagmatically, that is, textually, open only to the indefinite, but by no means infinite, interpretations allowed by the context.

To recognize this principle does not mean to support the "repressive" idea that a text has a unique meaning, guaranteed by some interpretive authority. It means, on the contrary, that any act of interpretation is a dialectic between openness and form, initiative on the part of the interpreter and contextual pressure.

Medieval interpreters were wrong in taking the world as a univocal text; modern interpreters are wrong in taking every text as an unshaped world. 

Texts are the human way to reduce the world to a manageable format, open to an intersubjective interpretive discourse. Which means that, when symbols are inserted into a text, there is, perhaps, no way to decide which interpretation is the “good” one, but it is still possible to decide, on the basis of the context, which one is due, not to an effort of understanding “that” text, but rather to a hallucinatory response on the part of the addressee.

[Umberto Eco]
The Limits of Interpretation, p. 21




There is no bottom line. Our choice of terms depends on the purpose for which we want to analyse the world at the time.

[Mary Midgley]
Science and Poetry, p. 195




Complex systems are usually open systems, i.e. they interact with their environment.

As a matter of fact, it is often difficult to define the border of a complex system. Instead of being a characteristic of the system itself, the scope of the system is usually determined by the purpose of the description of the system, and is thus often influenced by the position of the observer. This process is called framing.

Closed systems are usually merely complicated.

[Paul Cilliers]
Complexity and Postmodernism, p.4




[...] in any given social situation it is frequently the case that many different transactions are taking place at one and the same time between members of the same group. Not one game is being played, but several, and [...] the problem about real life is that moving one's knight to QB 3 may always be replied to with a lob across the net.

Even when we can identify with some certainty what game is being played, there is another problem. In real life situations, unlike both games and the examples in books about game-theory, we often do not start with a determinate set of players and pieces or a determinate area in which the game is to take place.

There is - or perhaps used to be - on the market a cardboard and plastic version of the battle of Gettysburg which [...] had this peculiarity, that a moderately good player taking the Confederate side can win. Yet clearly no player of war games is likely to be as intelligent at generalship as Lee was, and he lost. Why?

The answer of course is that the player knows from the outset what Lee did not - what the time scale of the preliminary stages of the battle must be, precisely what units are going to get involved, what the limits to the terrain are on which the battle is to be fought. And all this entails that the game does not reproduce Lee's situation.

For Lee did not and could not know that it was the Battle of Gettysburg - an episode on which a determinate shape was conferred only retrospectively by its outcome - which was about to be fought.

Jeffrey S. Milstein and William Charles Mitchell (1968) constructed a simulation of the Vietnam War [...] What is striking [...] is their response to their second source of failure, one which they do note themselves: their predictions were radically upset by the Tet offensive. The response of Milstein and Mitchell is to speculate as to how future studies might be extended so that the factors which led to the Tet offensive might be included.

What they ignore is the necessarily open and indeterminate character of all situations as complex as the Vietnam war. There is at the outset no determinate, enumerable set of factors, the totality of which comprise the situation. To suppose otherwise is to confuse a retrospective standpoint with a prospective one.

To say this is not at all the same as saying that all computer simulation is valueless; but what simulation cannot evade are the systematic sources of unpredictability.

[Alasdair MacIntyre]
After Virtue, p.115-16



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