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Colin Johnson’s blog


Archive for the ‘Observations’ Category

Self-reinforcing Criticism

Tuesday, October 25th, 2011

There is an interesting rhetorical move that I notice increasingly, which we might refer to as self-reinforcing criticism. An example of this is given in one of Edward De Bono’s books: a caricature of a Freudian analyst argues that some negative trait that someone has is due to their repressing some aspect of their personality. The person being criticized has very little in the way of response. Either they agree, or they disagree. If they disagree then that can itself be used as evidence of even deeper repression!

A common use of this is in planning processes in organisations. A complex proposal will be presented, which is roundly criticized for a number of reasons. However, rather than taking on the criticisms, the person presenting the argument counters with the argument that the critics are just “afraid of change”.

We need a term to “call out” this kind of specious argument. I have experimented by called out the emotional aspects of it: “why are you in a position to know how I am feeling?”. But this isn’t ideal. We need a term of art to describe this, and then to create a pejorative sense to that term. Perhaps a term for this already exists in rhetoric somewhere?

Relatedly, there is a phenomenon where a complex proposal will be presented and, if it is attacked, the proposer will say “well, what do you suggest instead?”. This is difficult to respond to, as the proposer is in the position where they have had days, weeks or months to prepare their proposal, whereas the off-footed opponent has a matter of seconds or minutes. I wonder if we should be working harder to make multi-alternative proposals to be both normal (so that proposals with only one alternative are seen as weak) and acceptable (so that presenting proposals with multiple alternatives are not seen as being weak and indecisive).

Duality (1)

Friday, December 31st, 2010

Here is an interesting duality – the challenges faced by a single parent parenting several children are similar to the challenges faced by an only child who has to look after two aging parents.

Honestly,…

Monday, December 13th, 2010

Is it the case the people who habitually begin sentences with “Honestly speaking…” and similar phrases are usually lying/manipulating what they say – and expect that everyone else is doing the same?

It Could Be You

Tuesday, September 21st, 2010

Lotteries are often described as “a tax on people who are innumerate”. The idea is that any rationalist would not play a lottery, because the return on investment is shoddy—negative, indeeed, stunningly so. Back to the post office savings account then.

But hang on there! Is this really why people play lotteries? Often the driving force is the remote chance of a truly life-transforming event, which is not adequately measured by the ROI.

The interesting observation is that this argument also works for events with negative consequences. Indeed, we are accustomed to this kind of reasoning about negative events. For example, people will readily argue that, whilst they know that the chances of a plane crash are minuscule, nonetheless they aren’t going anywhere a damn plane—because the consequences of being in a plane crash, however remote, are horrifying. Again, a life-transforming event, but one with bad rather than good consequences. The behaviour seems to be controlled by the same mechanism—I wonder if a carefully controlled experiment would show that the underlying structure of thought is basically the same?

Location, Location, Location

Monday, September 13th, 2010

There is an ad for a hyper-expensive watch brand that runs something like “You never actually own a Patek Phillipe watch—you merely look after it for the next generation”.

Increasingly, even though we buy our houses at a greater rate than previous generations, we increasingly have less sense of ownership. It used to be argued that one advantage of owning your own house was that you could “do what you like with it”. However, all of the weirdo TV house programmes that my mother watches incessantly convey the impression that, despite living in a house for years, you are really just looking after it until the “real owner”—the next buyer—comes along. They, of course, will take the same attitude towards the following owner, …

This has strange consequences. My flat has an odd cod-wrought iron fire surround with images of happy workers toiling in the field embossed into it. It is as horrible as it sounds (now, had it been done in a soviet futurist style, that might be different…). My mother agrees with me that it is horrible—but when I proposed getting it replaced with something more tasteful and understated, her response was “I don’t know if you should do that, perhaps the people you want to sell it to next might like it.”.

Accident of Birth

Monday, September 13th, 2010

I have no emotional passion for partisanship. Football matches (national or local), patriotism, a swelling of belonging to a religion irregardless of belief—none of these do it for me. I think I understand why: it is because they are all basically, to me, arbitrary accidents of birth.

I think I have the following mental model: some essence of the sense of me-ness, looking out from this body, was placed there in an arbitrary way. I could “just have easily” been born in a place where I would have been a Sikh, a Mongolian, or an East Fife supporter as the place that I did end up. As a result I just cannot feel any emotional depth to these cards that I have been dealt. Their very arbitrariness precludes me having any passion for them—they seem as arbitrary to me as if I have been dealt a card saying “you will support football team number 148” at some rite-of-passage.

Of course I realise that this notion of my soul being bowled at the Earth by some wild-armed deity is nonsensical. Nonetheless, this is how I’ve always felt deep down, and it is hard to shift the actual feeling.

This extends to religion in an interesting way. It seems weird to me that we don’t go through a period of religious seeking, and settle on the religion that we most think is likely to be correct. After all, we only get one chance to be right (in most faiths), and what is the chance that I have been born into the right place. If one of the world’s religions is correct (I appreciate that this is a trite view), then my chances of having been born into the right one are at best one-in-five. Why would I not, as a rationalist, try to find the right one? Yet when I tried to explain this to my parents as a teenager, the reaction was one of horror, like I was about to go out there and end up in a cult. (This notion is riffed on in a Mitchell and Webb sketch, where someone gets to the gates of heaven only to find out the the Amish were right after all, and that only Amish people will get into heaven; surely this shouldn’t be funny if we have an intuition that there is One True Faith, yet religious people seem to assert that this is the case).

Some of this crystallised when I came across the ideas in John Rawls’s Theory of Justice. In that book he argues that moral actions should be guided by a principle that we do not know which of the actors in a particular situation we will be represented by. For example, the reason that we should regard theft as morally unacceptable is that if we regard the situation “as a whole” we are as likely to be at the receiving end than the active end, and so overall we would not want that situation to obtain even if the thief benefits from the act. This seemed to me unremarkable and utterly intuitive: why is this considered to be a deep innovation in our understanding of moral action? It is only by talking to other people over the years that I realise that this is a very unusual position to hold intuitively. Like M. Jourdain in Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who was shocked to find that he had been speaking prose all this life, I realised that I had been an intutive Rawlsian throughout my moral development.

Radical Robes

Friday, August 27th, 2010

Thinking about the notion of academic robes at graduation ceremony. From time-to-time the idea of academical dress gets attacked for being irrelevant and outdated. I’d like to argue instead that there is an important radical signficance behind the idea of dressing in academic robes for graduation.

Over the last fifty years there has been a pressure in society towards the idea that the only acceptable form of formal dress is that associated with the business community. Increasingly the distinctive formal dress-codes associated with various professions and things of value in society have been rubbished as irrelevant in “the modern world”; distinctive modes of dress associated with learning, scholarship, teaching, the law, religion, et cetera have been put under pressure. We might want superficially to hurrah this as a victory for egalitarianism; why should practitioners of such things get the chance to lord it over “the rest of us” by distinctive forms of dress.

This might be acceptable if the alternative was a class- and profession- neutral mode of formal dress. However this is not what has happened. What would people wear to an occasion such as graduation if academic dress were to be deprecated? I imagine that the vast majority would wear some tedious grey suit redolent of years of tedium in the accountancy profession. The mode of dress chosen would no longer represent learning, nor would it represent personal success; it would have the subtle smell of the idea that the only success worth having is that represented by business, and that we celebrate success by shrouding ourselves in the dress associated with that activity. “We are all businessmen/women now”.

The situation is rapidly becoming similar to that of mediaeval europe, where membership of the church was a prerequisite for any other profession, and therefore priestly robes became the standard formal dress later diversifying into academic robes, barristers’ gowns, et cetera. It was incomprehensible that someone could become a professional in some other field without being a priest first. We are in a similar situation today with regard to business; it is becoming increasingly difficult to assert an identity as a lawyer or academic or whatever without the implication that one is “really” a business person, just “trading” in the “law business” or “university business” or whatever. This is subtly supported by the modes of dress which are deemed “acceptable” in society. The use of academic robes in graduation ceremonies is a healthy cock-a-snoop at this bland uniformity.

We’re All Middle Class Now (1)

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

Overheard in Tesco this evening, from someone dressed like the canonical chav to one of the shop assistants:

“Oi, you! ‘got any tzatziki, mate?”

Risps, Cisps, Crips, Crisp, Criss

Monday, August 16th, 2010

Rather surprised to see the branding on this packet of crisps:

Photo of Crips Crisps

Crips Crisps

Rather reassuring in a way that the offensive term “crip” (as in, short for cripple) is so obscure now that a branding like this could go all the way through an organization without coming up as a problem. I presume that they started with a concept like “like crisps but not quite” and this is where they ended up.

Oh, and the crisps were very nice too, and supposedly very healthy compared to canonical crisps. Also rather liked the weird image on the packet.

Promises, Promises…

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

There are loads of posters around at the moment about Nat West’s new Customer Charter. A sensible idea, on the whole. One of the promises is We will aim to serve the majority of customers within 5 minutes in our branches. This could be rephrased as we don’t mind if half of our customers wait more than five minutes which sounds much worse. Interesting contrast between two things that are, logically, the same statement.

Autocomplete Observations (1)

Saturday, May 8th, 2010

Most web-browsers now try to autocomplete what is put into the search box. Also, search engines such as Google have built-in calculators—a convenient feature (though dc is still my usual default for this sort of thing…). Earlier this evening, I was looking at the UK election results and trying to calculate whether the “progressive alliance” of the centre-left being put forward by Alex Salmond would be able to command a majority if it included enough minor parties. I got as far at 258+ when the following autocomplete popped up:
Autocomplete for 258+; gives 258+57
So we can use autocomplete to find out what calculations are currently popular. It might be interesting to search for other examples and see what events they are linked to.

Not Quite one for comp.risks, but Funny Nonetheless

Tuesday, April 27th, 2010

OS X abbreviates long filenames using the first and last few letters of the name.

The suffix for Time Machine backup files is .sparsebundle.

Consequences:
Screenshot from time machine backup: ...arsebundle

Well I thought it was funny.

Fading Microcultural Phenomena (2)

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

Another example of a bit of microculture that is fading completely from view, yet which was thriving when I was a teenager: the idea, amongst “adults”, that popular culture is non-productive and a waste of time. My evidence-base for this is the school concerts that I performed in as a teenager: parades of dance and music that went on for hours. What music was used for these? A small part of “high culture” music—a senior pupil playing a bit of Mozart on the clarinet. But, this was a fairly small component—as was the amount of genuine popular music (in the broad sense) of the time. Mostly, the concerts were dominated by what we might term light music—not just in the narrow sense of the word, but in the sense of things like show tunes, film music, old pop music, sanitized versions of folk songs, et cetera. Gradually, some things would move from “popular culture” into “light culture”; an example of this was ABBA. Real popular-culture music was not admitted; there was an argument one year about whether a (very good) rock band that the pupils had formed should be allowed to play (eventually, they were allowed to play outside the hall during the interval).

A kind of “light culture” existed whose advocates probably looked up to, but didn’t really like traditional “high culture” (certainly not in large doses) yet who saw “popular culture” as being genuinely destructive and dangerous.

I don’t think that we would be having these sorts of distinctions today. The distinction between “light culture” and “popular culture” is fading. The idea that popular culture rots the brain, or takes time or moral energy away from better things, is fading. In a world where a member of the Shadow Cabinet can describe Beyoncé as one of the “cultural highlights” of the last decade, and mean it entirely genuinely, things have changed enormously.

Next Thursday is Closer than ASAP

Friday, March 12th, 2010

Here is an interesting time management observation. In a lot of organisations, including where I work, a large number of requests come in with the timescale for response being As Soon As Possible. Occasionally, requests come in with a specific time scale; “by next Thursday”, for example. Bizarrely, I tend to respond to these requests quicker than those that say ASAP. I think that this is a mixture of “so many things are marked ASAP, so I have to schedule everything marked ASAP, so ASAP starts to mean ‘when I can schedule it'”. As a result all the ASAP things go through an explicit scheduling process, by contrast the unusual “by next Thursday” type requests don’t get held up in this scheduling system. There is a also a vague sense that the person who has taken the trouble to give a precise date has put more thought into when they need the response by.

Granularity of Typing

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

As I have improved my typing skills over the years, I have noticed that I increasingly make errors at the whole word level rather than at the wrong-letter or transposed-letter stage. For example, when I try to type the word “universe” I frequently find that I have typed the word “university” before I realise that I have made an error. “University” is a word that I type many times a day; “universe”, perhaps once a week or less. This would seem to relate to the idea of “chunking” in memory—instead of controlling each individual letter being typed, instead I am chunking together the typing activity of whole words as “basic units”. There is an argument (from Rumelhart and McClelland, Parallel Distributed Processing) that when experienced typists type a word like vacuum, where the first three letters are all in the left hand, the right hand is moving towards the letter ‘u’ before the left hand has finished the “vac” part of the word.

Another piece of evidence for this: a colleague of mine has said in an email: “slip of the fingers: Venue for the meeting will be S122A, (*not* S110B)”. Fingers would have to slip very precisely to type the exact sequence of letters required to type the name of one room rather than another; the slip is at a much earlier stage in the cognitive process! It would be interesting to do a proper study of this kind of mistyping, perhaps this would make a good student project.

The Dyson AirBlade is a wonderful invention; but, still…

Monday, January 4th, 2010

Why is it that, despite hot-air hand-dryers being around for most of my life, and therefore presumably designers of public toilet areas having a long time to get used to them, that there are still vastly more sinks in these areas than there are dryers, despite the hand-drying taking much longer than the washing process?

Kids Today; Kids Back Then

Monday, January 4th, 2010

Over Christmas, my mother landed on the commonly-expressed idea that “kids today” hardly talk to one another; instead, they spend their time “texting and emailing”. Is this really a problem? Is it, indeed, worse than when I was a kid in the 70s/80s? I’ll admit that some uses of technology are very isolating—computer games being a canonical example (though this is changing, for example with the Wii and online gaming, as explored in the last episode of Benjamin Woolley’s excellent Games Britannia series on the BBC over the last few weeks).

When I think back to my childhood, I had very little communication outwith school with other kids. I was a geeky, only child, lived on a street with very few other kids in the locality, with essentially no use of phone (indeed, no phone in the house until about 1985), and with comparatively few visits from schoolfriends (perhaps the occasional on-the-way-back-from school visit; but this was capped off very strictly by teatime, at which we all had to be back in our own homes). The ideal my mother was describing might have described her childhood—living in the middle of a newly-built row of council houses in the 40s and 50s, where most people on the street were families of a similar age; but, it certainly doesn’t match with my experience. I would have imagined that computer and mobile-phone technology would have vastly improved my communication as a child/teenager.

The Digital Divide (1)

Monday, January 4th, 2010

There is a lot of talk about how “everyone” is computer-literate and Internet-savvy these days. Generally, there is a lot of truth in this; but, occasionally, something happens to bring me down to earth with a bump. One of these was a few days ago. I’ve been staying with my parents over Christmas, and I took my laptop with me, usually leaving it on my bed as there isn’t a desk or anything in my room. One day, my father said to me, in a somewhat panicked voice: “what’s that glowing thing on your bed? Is it going to set the bed on fire?”. Think of him when you think that “we can just move everything online”.

Admittedly, this anecdote concerns a man in his 80s. It would be interesting to know if there are any statistics out there that capture how many people there are out there who are computer-illiterate to the extent of hardly knowing what a computer is, and what the demographics of this group are.

Obverse/Reverse

Monday, October 5th, 2009

When I was a teenager my mother won a mint set of coins in a display case; a neat prize. Something that surprised me when I looked at it in detail was that the coins with the Queen’s head on were described as the obverse of the coin, and those with the distinctive design the reverse. This contradicted something that was part of my (mistaken) tacit knowledge about the world, i.e. that the distinctive side was the front, and the Queen’s head the back (probably being rooted in learning about coins by looking at the side on which the amount was displayed so as to learn the denomination).

Bizarrely, I’ve never been able to square this objective knowledge with my tacit feeling that the Queen’s head is on the back. I have known objectively that the Queen’s head is the front of the coin for around 25 years. However, I still basically grok that the Queen’s head is on the back. I wonder if this kind of conflict between tacit and explicit knowledge is a known and studied phenomenon?

Change Change

Monday, October 5th, 2009

One advantage of working in the university is seeing trends emerging out from the Young People. Something I’ve noticed a couple of times in the last few weeks is students in the campus shop ignoring the attempt by the cashier to give back the 1p change when they have e.g. paid for a 99p purchase using a pound coin. That is, to start walking once they have handed over the coin, and make no attempt to indicate to the cashier what to do with the change. The staff put it in the charity box.

A neat alternative to this is spreading in the US by I haven’t seen it here: a little tray of low-value coins kept on the shop counter, to which customers can add small change or remove a small number of coins to make up the fiddily last bit of a transaction.

I’m slightly surprised that when the major British coin redesign happened a year or two ago that an opportunity wasn’t taken to eliminate the 1p and 2p. It is 25 years since the decimal half-penny coin was removed from the currency system. That said, I can see that a government would be very wary of this; whilst it would probably be generally accepted, the risk of the public/media taking it as “the government doesn’t care about small amounts of money” (by contrast with “ordinary people” who do).

I have been trying to persuade myself for years that one pound is not a large amount of money; when I was a kid, not all that long ago in the greater scheme of things, it seemed like a large amount. I am determined not to gradually become paralysed into thinking that everything is overpriced, as has happened to an older generation. I think my epiphany on this occurred earlier today in the campus shop where I witnessed the aforementioned incident. I noticed that the price of an ordinary daily newspaper has reached a pound; the newspaper has always struck me as the canonical “throwaway purchase”. At last I feel a shift in intuition to match what I have felt rationally for a few years. Of course, another advantage of working in the university is getting the student discount is applied automatically, so the paper actually only cost 40p!