Tuesday, October 30, 2012

"Why do I need to know this?"

I remember asking this frequently in school, usually in yet another dreary math class in which I struggled mightily.  It would be several years and a lifetime later that I could answer this question to my satisfaction.  I never had a teacher answer it in such a way to make me knuckle down and accept the illogical hoop-jumping that is our system of public education.

Why go to school? Why further your education?  Why continue to read and investigate on your own after you have left educational institutions?  In short, because your life may depend on it someday.  The answer to the title question is this--you never know what you'll need to know, so you should know as much as you can.

Before I drive the point home with a true life and death example, I have a fun story.  I was working in a restaurant as a dishwasher, and we had several metal cylinders that held salad dressing which took up alot of space on our shelves.  Since the base of the cylinders was narrower than the tops, I took to nestling them in each other to leave room for other things after I had washed them.  Over time, the number of these nestled cylinders doubled, then tripled.  Why the hell were they buying so many extras?  I found out when I was told I would face a written reprimand if I continued to nestle the containers after washing them, because they could not be pulled apart in the morning.  Management considered they were ruined because they had become fused together.  They bought extras to make up for the ruined containers.  I laughed when I was told this, because I understood exactly what was going on.  Using my high school science classes, I knew the air between the cylinders was hot when  I stacked them together and was expanded.  As the air cooled through the night it created a vacuum of sorts as the volume of air shrank, drawing the cylinders together.  To free the cylinders, I placed a stack on the stove and turned up the heat to re-expand the volume of air between them.  With a pop the cylinders were freed, and my manager looked at me like I was a wizard.  I was 16 years old.

Education, or rather knowing things regardless of the source of information, is like Batman's toolbelt.  Batman is a normal person just like you and me, so he needs toys to get him out of sticky situations.  He cannot fly away to safety like Superman, or zap threats with laser vision.  Batman needs to carry everything he might need to use to get to safety, and what he will use will vary based on what he faces.  He might need a zipline, or to rappel up a wall.  He may face bullets or a knife, might even need to swim.  Because he can't pause life to go retrieve what he needs, he must carry all of these different tools on his utility belt.  Knowledge is that utility belt, every piece of information a different tool.  The better equipped Batman is, the more likely he is to survive.  But we aren't Batman are we?

Imagine a special forces soldier hot on the trail of an Iraqi army unit in the latest Gulf War.  He and his squad have been looking for this unit to wipe them out and keep the push toward Baghdad from attack from the side (or flank). The unit has been difficult to locate, and lost in the desert this special forces soldier has to pee.  Relieving himself against a hill, he notices the hill does not look natural.  How does he know it doesn't look natural?  In basic training he and another recruit talked at great length about geology.  His friend showed him how nature piles up rocks and dirt to determine man-made versus nature made structures.  It was idle chitchat at the time, a minor detail the two discussed on training in the woods, but now that information was coming back to the special forces soldier in the deserts of Iraq.  He walks up the hill to investigate it just as an armed Iraqi soldier was walking up the other side, and the two engaged in hand to hand combat.  Victorious, the special forces soldier radios his men, for he found the edge of the Iraqi military camp.  Had he not realized the hill was man-made, he would have turned away just as the armed Iraqi crested his side of the hill, and probably been shot.  The chance discussion of geologic processes in basic training saved the special forces soldier's life.

So no, we are not all Batman.  We might be a 16 year-old dishwasher keeping his job, or we might be a special forces soldier peeing against the enemy's fortifications; the only thing we know for sure is we never know what we may need to know, so we should know as much as we can.


On the need for paradigm shifts

The whole point of this blog has been to challenge established perspectives and illuminate paradigms that many may not understand they possess.  A long running thought experiment I started with my late brother many years ago may best illustrate why this is important.  This example also reinforces my point about the limitation of labels, and the power of a single word choice.

A basic component of the forces of nature is gravity.  Gravity always affects us whether we are aware of it or not, and indeed our lives would not be possible without it.  Newton offered the first law of gravity, in which some basic principles of gravity were described, then expounded upon by Einstein as our frames of reference changed.  For all the vaunted knowledge of these two great thinkers, all they have been able to do is to describe gravitational properties mathematically.  These equations simply allow us to predict how a massive object is affected by gravity (or how gravity affects space); these equations do not tell us what gravity is.

What is the source of gravity? In elementary school science we are taught that here on Earth, we are pulled to the Earth by the force of gravity contained within it.  Newton similarly described the pull of the Earth on a falling apple.  It is assumed that gravity is a force intrinsic to any object that has mass, and that the more massive the object the greater the gravitational attraction to it.

Here is the novelty of a paradigm shift: what if we are not pulled, or drawn to the Earth, but rather, we are pushed toward it?  Appreciate the difference between the following two sentences--gravity is a force that pulls us toward Earth; gravity is a force that pushes us toward Earth.  In the first sentence the source of gravity is intrinsic to the planet on which we live.  As such, to unravel its secrets we must look to the Earth, to mass, for answers.  In the second, we must look to space, to everything but mass, for answers.  Simply changing that perspective opens up completely new avenues of exploration, and all for the substitution of one word.

In high school science we are introduced to the concept of vaccuums.  During the course of that discussion the teacher likely says, "nothing in science is ever pulled, it is pushed."  The vaccuum demonstration underlies that concept; in order to achieve equillibrium air rushes in to a vaccuum.  The greater pressure outside a vaccuum pushes air into the vaccuum, but the air is not sucked, or pulled, into it.  Even the idea that a child pulls a wagon is not correct in a scientific sense.  Rather, the child's hand is wrapped around a handle, and part of that child's palm and fingers push the back side of the handle in whatever direction the child moves.  The orientation of the child in respect to the wagon is irrelevant; in a strict scientific sense, the forces involve pushing on some part of the wagon to make it move.

Yet we still insist that gravity pulls us toward Earth.  Instilling that paradigm in children then provides them a frame of reference through which they may further explore the force later, perhaps incorrectly.  Thus we see the importance of paradigm shifts, changing perspective, understanding word choices and labels in general.

As for the thought experiment, run your own.  How might gravity be a force that is imposed on us from outside, rather than something intrinsic to the Earth? What are its properties under this new perspective? What is its source?  Perhaps I'll share my thoughts in a later post.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

On Faith

Younger generations have fled the formal authority of churches in favor of a buffet style approach to their relation with higher powers, or embraced outright atheism and rejected the notion of higher powers altogether.

For many, science now provides answers to the mysteries of life.  This has placed science at odds with various religious authorities who feel threatened by the encroachment of science into their domain.  The word "faith" has become synonymous with religion and has come to mean something akin to belief without evidence.  The root of science is to establish a system that will reveal universal facts supported by evidence, or at least facts as they are understood by a scientist and his or her contemporaries.  Given what I have previously written about the ineffectiveness of labels, facts are fluid and subject to new evidence--as the demotion of Pluto from planet to plutoid can attest.

It is the rigid assurances of religion which had served mankind so well that have fallen in the face of new evidence, and driven young people toward the assurances of science with its facts.  I count myself among those who turn to science rather than religion for answers to life's mysteries.  I am not ignorant of the degree to which faith plays a role in the pursuit of those answers, however.

I have not performed the experiments that have provided those answers myself.  I have not unearthed a fossil, detected the wobble of a star to infer the presence of planets, or classified a new species of insect.  Other people have done these things, then written about them.  To simply have faith that these people are telling the truth, or have not misunderstood the results of their work is not enough; their discoveries must be duplicated or verified by their peers to establish a consensus of opinion surrounding the discovery.  Those peers write supporting or rejecting papers about the initial discovery.  This is the heart of the scientific method.

Having done none of this work, and reading few of the results of the work of a scientist and their peers, I receive news of the discovery in roundabout ways typically.  This is where faith comes in.

I have to have faith in the process of science and subsequent reporting.  I cannot know that biases have been injected at any step of the reporting, and must take what is said as accurate.  If a source has a track record of inaccurately reporting on discoveries, I will lose faith in the source of information.  Where the reporting is accurate, biases may have crept into the science, but my faith in the system of science tells me that peer review will uncover it.  To maintain my faith, I have to believe in the integrity of the process, but I cannot ever really be certain.  However, since I have accepted the fluidity of facts in science, I also have faith that what I know through this process is incomplete or even wrong (given more evidence).

The difference between religion and science is less one of evidence and facts than one of certainty.  Faith plays a large role in both, but one is certain while the other embraces uncertainty and doubt.  I have little faith in anyone who uses either to make assurances or final conclusions.