Provocative entertainment: Hitchens arguing

Christopher Hitchens. Arguably: Essays (2011) Published the year before his death, the book is a compendium of pieces Hitchens wrote for Vanity Fair, Slate, Newsweek, and other periodicals. Hitchens doesn’t like humbug, stupidity, fraud, cruelty, and other evils. He likes compassion, art, sense, democracy, peace, food, friends, literature, and other good things. He rails against the evils done in the name of religion, distrusts and hates all ideology, despises weakness that arms itself with a gun, and the British royal family. The latter was surely the deciding reason to migrate ot the USA and become a citizen. His love for America gave him reason to point at and criticise its failures to live up to its ideals. He was a journalist, and saw many of the horrors of the 20th century firsthand. His education at Oxford (he read philosophy, politics, and economics) gave him the habit and skills of thorough reading. He was a lifelong socialist, and hated both left and right ideologies.    
Despite his rage at the cruelty and folly of humankind, most of his writing is witty and engaging. If you find this book, read it. ****

Some ruminations about school

People who find school easy (roughly the top 10%) often have trouble at college and university, even if they've had to do homework. I was one such (in high school, I did all my math homework between classes), and had to take a year off after my 2nd University year. That also gave me some time to reflect on what I really wanted to do. It would have been better to have taken that year immediately after high school.

School is easy for some people because (even when the program is "streamed" by ability) the curriculum has to be aimed at the average student. But there is huge variation in both age (hence cognitive development), and innate and acquired abilities. In addition, human development is not a nice steady progress. It's extremely variable, both over time and in physical, cognitive, and emotional qualities. What a kid cannot learn in February, they may well have been able to learn in September, and vice versa. Not to mention that family life, socioeconomic environment, random crises, etc increase already existing differences among students.

The surprising thing is that the schools do as good a job as they do. In my experience that has more to do with the student-teacher relationship than anything else. If you like kids, like teaching, and like your subject, the students will co-operate with you and learn as well as they can.

Politically, the biggest problem IMO is that people seem to think "teach" is a transitive verb, like "paint". It ain't. If you paint a wall, it's painted, and it stays painted. If you teach a kid, they may or may not learn, and will probably forget most of what they've learned anyhow.

IOW, "teach" is what a teacher does and "learn" is what a student does. These two verbs together describe a complementary, symbiotic almost, relationship. If that relationship fails in some way, you have a problem. However, the critics of schools apparently want some kind of people-proof method, that, if applied correctly, will turn out the widgets, er, sorry, _graduates_ they want.

Based on a Usenet post 20190908; edited 20190910 and 20191015

Gladwell on misunderstanding strangers

Recently, The Guardian and the CBC both had interviews wth Gladwell about our difficulty communicating with strangers. One of his theses is that we can’t reliably tell when someone is lying.

I think our inability to perceive lies comes with a matching skill: the ability to hide the truth. Gladwell points to our need to trust each other. It seems to me that this requires the ability to hide anything that might cause distrust. So we have evolved the ability to hide large swaths of ourselves.

All human societies operate on codes of courtesy. To be polite is to pretend that what we see is what we get. It's a mutual acceptance of privacy: I won't try to find out what you're hiding if you don't try to find out what I'm hiding. We wear masks, the masks of respectability and trustworthiness. Gladwell explores how those masks differ from one society to another, and the inevitable misunderstandings caused by those differences.

Politics as it Might Be: Political Science Fiction

     Martin Greenberg & Patricia Warrick. Political Science Fiction (1974) A college textbook, complete with introductory notes to each story, designed to guide the student through the difficulties of unfamiliar ideas. Ignore those bits, and you have an interesting and sometimes entertaining collection of short stories. The ideologies of the Cold War intrude on some of the stories, which makes them not only dated but silly.
     A handful of classics redeem the collection, such as Gordon Dickson’s Call Him Lord, in which the Emperor's eldest son visits Earth to be tested, and fails. Or Alfred Bester’s Disappearing Act, a nicely done satire on the futility of practical solutions. Or Isaac Asimov’s Franchise, in which a single, statistically normal, citizen is selected, whose answers to questions will determine who is elected President.
    All in all, an entertaining read. Out of print of course, but worth picking up if you find a copy. ** to ****

John Allen, the Genius of Monterey

     Linn Westcott. Model Railroading with John Allen (1981) The first few signs of Allen’s genius were few and hardly noticed: a few photos, and a couple of articles in the model railroad magazines in the 1940s. Then people took notice, and editors solicited more photos and manuscripts. By the early 1960s, John Allen was famous among model railroaders. His Gorre and Daphetid demonstrated what Frank Ellison had pioneered in America: that a well-designed layout was a combination of visual and operational concepts whose purpose was to provide the operator (and casual visitor) with the impression of a complete world. The goal was plausibility. Layout designers have taken this principle to heart ever since, whether the layout was based on the owner’s imagined fantasy or on some slice of actual railroad.
     The Gorre and Daphetid is a fictional bridge line across the Akinbak mountain range, somewhere in western America. It provides vital local transportation in an area with few and dangerously steep and winding roads. It’s not much of a money-maker, and its management has bought most of its rolling stock secondhand. Passenger traffic serves mostly tourists who appreciate the spectacular bridges and scenery.
     Westcott gives us a history of Allen’s layouts, an overview of the final version, information about rolling stock and operations, and a glimpse of Allen himself. Allen was friendly and enjoyed showing off his work, but he was an intensely private man. His work must represent the person.
     Allen died in 1973, and his house burnt down a few days later. Little of his work was salvageable. It lives on in his photographs and a short film. Westcott himself died in 1980 while editing the final version of his book. Bob Hayden led the editing team that put Westcott’s manuscript into print.
     The production standard is very high. Westcott’s style is clear and conversational. The book is out of print, but is worth a search. ****
    There are several websites devoted to John Allen and the Gorre and Daphetid. A search will find texts, pictures and the short video. George Sellios's Franklin and South Manchester was inspired by John Allen's work. Through his Fine Scale Miniatures company, Sellios offfered several kits based on the GD, beginning with a wood water tank. 

Reaility: It is what it is.

Do We See Reality? By Donald Hoffman
(New Scientist, Vol 243, Number 3241, pp. 34-17)

Of course not. As Hoffman is at pains to point out, we see an image constructed by our brains. But in his discussion, I think he mistakes image for object.

“Reality is virtual” reads a subhead. No, it’s not. Reality is what it is. Our image of it is virtual. More precisely, our experience of reality is virtual. And what exactly is this virtual image? It’s patterns abstracted from the flood of data we take in with our senses.

Abstraction begins with the senses, which filter the data. We sense a very narrow band of electromagnetic radiation as light. We sense an even narrower band as heat. We sense a small fraction of the compounds that impinge on our noses and tongues. We sense our bodily movements with varying degrees of precision. And so on. More tellingly, we do not consciously perceive most of the sensory data transmitted to our brains. Hoffmman is right: our images of the world were and are constructed to foster survival. But that doesn’t mean the images are false. They are merely differently incomplete, and abbreviated. They consist as much of tokens as of representations, maybe more. They are simplified versions.

In attempts to understand “what reality really is” (what an odd collocation of words!), we use the methods of science. And here, something strange happens. We take our built-in facilty of abstracting patterns from the data as a method of arriving at “deeper truths.” Physicists claim that the most abstract patterns, the ones describable only in mathematics, are more true than any others. It’s obvious, I think, that what we perceive of the world is a highly edited, multi-level collection of not too carefully constructed represenations of reality. The notion that the most highly abstracted ones are the most true is, to my mind, exceedingly strange.

The fact is that abstraction occurs at many levels. It begins with sensation, which becomes perception, which becomes data. Data are organised into information. We combine information into knowledge, and knowledge affords insight. Insight permits understanding, which enables theory. Abstract the patterns of theory, and you may gain wisdom.

That chain of abstraction levels is what make our grasp of reality human. It’s what has enabled us to alter and exploit the environment to suit ourselves. That none of us achieve more than a modest level of wisdom may be our undoing: it’s difficult to accept that we must deny ourselves so many of our achievements if we wish our species to survive.

A haiku

Haiku
Words float on the air
like smoke and dry leaves.
Memory fails me.

Also posted on the Poems page.