A School of Sphericity

Many years ago I thought about starting a school that would emphasize “sphericity,” by which I meant the property of being well-rounded.

Armillary Sphere
(“Armillary Sphere,” by francisco.j.gonzalez, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)

To me the concept of personal sphericity is summed up in one of my favorite Robert A. Heinlein quotes —

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

— which seemed like the basis of a unique and interesting curriculum (so long as we didn’t push students so far as to experience the last item in the long list). My idea was to start a school that would equip every student not only with the “three Rs” but with practical skills, and would give them experience not only with those specific tasks listed but with related activities that they represent.

This idea came back to mind recently when a colleague wrote this blog post. She wrote about designers Emily Pilloton and Matt Miller, who started Studio H in Bertie County, North Carolina, as a “‘design/build’ public school curriculum that sparks community development through real-world, built projects.” They taught “fundamentals of design, architecture and construction to high school students,” though after the first year they took the program to California because the local school district had cut funding for their salaries.

In that one project, then, we find several items from Heinlein’s list: not only the obvious “design a building” and “build a wall,” but “balance accounts” (in terms of budgeting for the project), “cooperate,” “analyze a new problem,” and likely several more. It seems like a wonderful educational experience to me, and I applaud Pilloton and Miller for pursuing the idea and wish them luck in the future.

I don’t know quite how to go about starting such an enterprise, but I think a school of sphericity would be marvelous, and its graduates would be well-poised to take on whatever challenges awaited them. What do you think?

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The Social Peril of Asking a Difficult Question

So, I was “unfriended” by someone on Facebook yesterday.

facebook like button

Those readers who have dealt with me on the Book of Faces probably aren’t surprised, since I can be even more of a jerk online than I am in real life. But it took me by surprise.

A little context: The gentleman (whom I like and am happy to consider a friend, though I suppose it’s more like we’re just acquaintances now) posted a graph showing an international comparison of the U.S. and a couple dozen other rich nations. He didn’t originate the graph, he “shared” it, so I was surprised by his reaction when I questioned the mathematical choices of the people who put it together.

(As an aside, I should explain that it seemed to me that the graph was contrived to make the U.S. look bad, since we were next-to-last in the select group of nations. I withheld that judgment. I also had questions about the actual data presented, including what operational definitions had been used and whether they were consistent across all the nations represented; from research I’ve done, I understand this can be a problem with international comparisons.)

I was most curious about why the researchers had selected “50% of the median household income” as the cutoff point for the comparison. Knowing the median value of a data set — the middle value when all the data are arranged in ascending order — can be useful, but less so when the mean (the arithmetic average) is not presented, but I wondered specifically why 50% of the median was significant.

So I asked the question. I didn’t phrase it as a question, which was probably a mistake; instead, I said something along the lines of “someone will need to explain to me why it makes sense to use 50% of the median.”

What followed was a confusing illustration of the fragile bonds of social media.

My correspondent posted a couple of links purported to show that the value in question was some kind of standard for defining poverty. Even if that were true — I eventually found other references that showed alternative values — one of the references had nothing to do with median income, and neither explained the rationale behind selecting the specific fraction of the median.

So I asked the question again — and in the form of a question this time. I asked why 50% of the median was selected, as opposed to 50% of the mean, or 50% of the mode, or some other percentage of the median. I hoped that someone who saw the exchange might be able to answer the question.

Instead, the next time I tried to look at the thread I found that I no longer had access to it. Following up, I discovered that he had terminated our FB friendship.

Surprised at his reaction, I contacted him off-line — because I’m just that kind of jerk — and apologized if I had offended him. The details of our subsequent exchange are unimportant, but suffice it to say that I got the impression that he had grown tired of my questioning (let alone challenging) sources he considered unassailable.

I wondered, in all of this, about my own motivation when posting particular news items or research results. Do I do so for the “echo chamber” effect, to collect “likes” and positive comments from friends who think the way I do? If I claim to do it in hope that it might educate or enlighten friends who think differently, am I fooling myself? Do I really post such things for the “poke ’em in the eye” effect? And, no matter my motivation, should I be surprised that provoking thought might lead to provoking responses, including responses that disagree with my own?

I am still disappointed that my question about the statistic wasn’t answered, and my own brief research into the matter hasn’t been very enlightening. But I’m even more disappointed that asking the question wasn’t met with a simple, “Hey, I don’t know, you’ll have to ask someone else” but instead was given the coldest of shoulders. Because if we can’t ask questions and engage in a sincere give-and-take, how can we expect to learn?

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The Appleseed Collective

Last week I ventured into downtown Raleigh for an evening of music featuring my nephew, Ben Rolston, and the band he recently joined.


(Four-fifths of The Appleseed Collective, playing at Tir na nOg in Raleigh.)

Raleigh is a far piece from The Appleseed Collective‘s hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan, but they had stopped in on the homeward leg of a tour through the southeast. Described as mixing “the Hot Club of Paris with the sweaty soul of Dixieland, a couple blades of bluegrass, a pinch of ragtime beat, and a western swinging swagger,” the band put on a terrific show at Tir na nOg Irish pub.

As their web site notes,

Everybody brings something fresh to the table. Upon returning from a trip to New Orleans, guitarist Andrew Brown had a song in his heart that just wouldn’t quit–when a chance meeting introduced him to Brandon Smith, violinist and improvisation enthusiast, Andrew knew he’d found the Stephane Grapelli to his Django Reinhardt. Vince Russo, percussionist and van-packing expert, speaks freely and cleverly with each clack of the washboard or ding of the short-order cook’s bell. Katie Lee brings a vocal range that is a force to be reckoned with. It’s angelic one moment and powerhouse the next, all complemented by twinkling banjo melodies. And the addition of double bassist Ben Rolston to the mix delivers a level of musicality and jazz sophistication that sends hearts a-flutter.

Here’s a video of them performing one of the songs from their Baby to Beast album:

I got to catch up a little with Ben before the show, and in all had a great time. Check out The Appleseed Collective, or if you prefer more improvisational jazz, check out Ben’s solo album, Fables.

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It’s Summer, So Where’s That Album I Promised?

We’re working on it, trust me. Here’s a little chart I made up of the status of the songs that will be on Truths and Lies and Make-Believe:

Thankfully, summer just started and has a few weeks left in it.

Over the next few weeks I need to get going on finding a location for the album cover photo shoot, contracting a photographer, producing the final cover art, etc.

Oh, yeah, and finish the remaining songs — that would seem to be important.

And having the album mastered, and arranging to produce some physical copies, and letting folks know about it.

At least I’ve got that last one covered for now.

Stay tuned!

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Knee-Jerk Reaction? Or Am I Just Being a Jerk?

This post is about the metaphorical mountains of excrement that get shoveled our way over the Internet, and those we shovel all by our lonesome selves. If that sort of thing doesn’t interest you, by all means just move along.*

Loud Yelling Please
(“Loud Yelling Please,” by Enokson, from Flickr via Creative Commons)

Here in Cyberland, we are inundated with blog posts, news feeds, trending topics, and whatnot. Some are thought-provoking, some entertaining, and some just infuriating. Or am I the only person who has seen a comment or item that made them mad enough to chew up a 2×4 and spit out toothpicks?

If you’ve not had that particular reaction — if your online world is full of peace and goodness and harmony — consider yourself blessed, consecrated, and possibly already ascended to the third or fourth Heaven.

But if you’ve felt that rush of angry adrenaline, what have you done about it? Did you gin up a retort as fast as your fingers could find the keys, and post it in the comments with a swift click of the mouse? Oh, how tempting that is, especially when the emotional charge makes that click of the mouse feel as good as giving the person a poke in the eye, a punch in the gut, a kick in the ass.

I’ve succumbed to that temptation and written those kind of reflexive posts, although of late I’ve come to realize that “reflexive” is not the right word. I really don’t write a “reflexive” blog post or article or e-mail. Maybe that’s because the editor in me requires that I read it over (and over, and over) to make the language more precise — at which point I realize that I’ve moved beyond having a knee-jerk reaction into being a full-blown jerk about asserting my own opinion.

So, upon reflection and usually thankfully, I often end up deleting whatever it was I wrote. Now, if I could only train myself to ignore what it was that incensed me in the first place, how much more pleasant my life would be.

But I know that no matter what group I am part of or with whom I identify, members of that group will eventually disappoint me — and if I expose myself to other groups with other points of view, whether political or spiritual or social or what-have-you, they will surely enrage me from time to time. And sometimes the issue may actually be important enough to enter into the discussion, or even into the argument.

Lord, help me pick my battles … and to not be a jerk about it.

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*Speaking of the Internet, I saw an interesting piece online the other day that pointed out that creative people can sometimes be jerks. If this post isn’t your thing, you might prefer reading that one.

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Coming This Summer: ‘Truths and Lies and Make-Believe’

With the help of my friends and family, I’m putting together an album of original music which I’m calling Truths and Lies and Make-Believe.

Truths and Lies and Make-Believe

I describe it as “a compendium of musical selections, inspired or influenced by science fiction, fantasy, life, and faith … a multitude of things.” The plan right now is for it to include ten original songs: mostly “filk” (genre-related music), but with a few other odds-and-ends thrown in as well.

Like all my other projects, this is a part-time endeavor — heck, these days it seems as if I’m living a part-time life — but I intend to finish and release it this summer. Exactly when this summer I’m not sure, so I’m not being any more specific than “summer.” As we make progress, I’ll post updates here on the Ghost Writer blog.

Meanwhile, you can get a PDF version of the flyer here, if you have some strange desire to share it your friends (or even your enemies). And don’t forget, “The Monster Hunter Ballad” is available now.

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‘Shovel Ready’ Depends on What’s Being Shoveled

Or, Why Improving Infrastructure Won’t Create a Whole Lot of Jobs.

The economic stimuli that Washington has tried in the last few years have included a number of construction programs; probably in your area, as in mine, a few project sites are marked as being the results of the Recovery Act. And in his press conference today, the President alluded to our country’s need for infrastructure repairs and intimated that, if we would only fund the needed repairs, we would see significant job growth and economic growth.

Road construction - 1921
(Road construction – 1921. OregonDOT image, from Flickr, under Creative Commons.)

Sorry, Mr. President, but it doesn’t work that way anymore.

In the old days, when huge teams of men were needed to clear trails, prepare roadbeds, pour concrete or spread asphalt, “shovel ready” meant just that: ready for lots of men with shovels to get started on the work. But when was the last time you saw a construction site full of men with actual shovels, doing the backbreaking work of building something big? Armies of men could be employed to complete such projects in the past, because manual labor was not only cheap and plentiful, it was also necessary.

Modern construction equipment has replaced the phalanxes of shovel-wielding workers, the number of people required to wield shovels on any job site is quite small, and no amount of increased spending on infrastructure is going to change that. In fact, it seems that the very people who propose that “shovel ready” might involve hiring huge numbers of the currently unemployed would howl at the thought of the conditions under which such people would have to work in order to match the output of a mechanized road crew.

Do many of our roads and bridges need to be repaired? Yes, and that has been true for as long as we’ve had roads and bridges. In many cases we have not done a good job of maintaining the infrastructure on which our economy depends. But we cannot expect investments in roads and bridges to lead directly to monumental gains in employment.

Nor can we expect investments in roads and bridges to lead directly to tremendous economic growth, but for a different reason. When roads and bridges were built to connect places that had until then been unconnected, allowing commerce between the places to develop, we saw great economic gains* — but repairing existing infrastructure cannot supply that same benefit. Especially in the U.S., most places are already connected that need to be connected. Unless the widened road, or the repaired bridge, or the expanded airport, or the upgraded rail line will actually reduce the time and cost of transporting people and goods, it’s unrealistic to expect any great economic benefit over and above the wages paid to the people who are doing the work.

And, as stated before, there won’t be as many of them as were needed in the past.

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*One of the reasons the development of trains and railroads could be considered a great moment in manufacturing history, as I talked about in this video.

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Today is My Five-Year Blog-iversary

I started this blog five years ago today. I can’t remember why.

My first post* explained that the blog was basically “a new attempt at getting our warnings out to the world” (referencing my alter ego’s practice of warning of impending storms). I’ve done a little of that: warning about the metaphorical storms I see looming off the coastlines of our lives. Perhaps I’ve done less of that than I should, though I’m sure I’ve done more than some readers would prefer. C’est la vie.

I’ve had the most fun keeping up the space history series. I actually started that in late August 2008, so its five-year cycle is coming to a close. What should I do then?

Over the last five years, I’ve averaged a new post every 2-3 days. Sometimes it’s been burdensome, but for the most part I’ve been able to fit it into my routine. How worthwhile has it been? I’m not sure. As self-indulgent as it is, I can’t help but feel that it’s ultimately meaningless, and qualifies as what the Teacher called “chasing after the wind.”

But, a few folks have told me they enjoy it, and that’s enough. So, thanks for reading!

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*All the old posts were moved from the original platform to WordPress earlier this month.

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Are We Missing the Point on Artificial Intelligence?

Read an interesting article yesterday about Duke University neuroscientist Miguel Nicolelis, who takes issue with science fiction author Vernor Vinge and futurist Ray Kurzweil’s famous Singularity: that point at which computer intelligence emerges and outstrips human intelligence, which has been a staple of science fiction for years.

Robot
(“Robot,” by ewen and donabel, from Flickr under Creative Commons.)

The viewpoint article, “The Brain is Not Computable”, introduces Nicolelis and his new book on the brain and human thought. As opposed to Kurzweil, et al, who foresee artificial intelligence being developed in the next few decades as computers grow ever more powerful, Nicolelis posits that the functions of the human brain — including random and unpredictable interactions among its myriad neurons — will not be replicated inside a machine.

That reminded me of a conversation I had during a panel discussion at a science fiction and fantasy convention many years ago,* in which I expressed my own doubts about artificial intelligence. I’m dubious of its appearance any time soon, not from the perspective of computer science but from that of Theory of Knowledge.

Specifically, the emergence of true AI would seem to require the computer (or network of computers) to transcend its own programming. We have seen tremendous performances by machines as repositories of quickly-accessible data — the “Watson” computer that competed so well at Jeopardy! was such a machine, capable of parsing the answer and finding the components of the most likely question. But as I understand it, Watson was still following instructions: still performing tasks it had been programmed to perform.

I contend that machines such as Watson are at the lowest end of what I think of as the chain of intelligence: Data are interpreted into Knowledge, and Knowledge is applied and refined into Wisdom.

A true AI — or, if you will, an intelligent artifice — will have to be much more than a sophisticated data-mining tool. For it to adhere to Theory of Knowledge, it will have to be able to form concepts based on the data presented to it; to convey knowledge those concepts will have to be predictive in nature, and the artifice will have to test those predictions against reality and, if needed, modify and continue to test them. Once it can rely on the accuracy of its predictions enough to carry out independent,** routine tasks without recourse to intervention by its programmers, we might consider it intelligent — but as its intelligence is tried in the fire of reality, will that artifice develop anything approaching wisdom?

Will such a device — artificial, independent, and intelligent — be developed in our lifetimes, and will it approach (let alone surpass) the functions of the human brain? I’m aware of the danger of saying anything will never happen, so I won’t say no … but I doubt it.

The cyberneticists are welcome to prove me wrong.

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*TriNoCon, perhaps? NASFiC? I don’t remember … and that bothers me.
**Which brings up another thorny issue with respect to any artifice: from whence shall it develop the will to act independently?

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