Showing posts with label knowledge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label knowledge. Show all posts

Monday, July 8, 2019

'the richness of the world ... and, often, its inscrutability'

Whenever parts of a system interfere or cooperate with each other, there are nonlinear interactions taking place. Most of everyday life is spectacularly nonlinear; if you listen to your two favorite songs at the same time, you won’t get double the pleasure. The same goes for consuming alcohol and drugs, where the interaction effects can be deadly. By contrast, peanut butter and jelly are better together. They don’t just add up—they synergize. 
Nonlinearity is responsible for the richness of the world, for its beauty and complexity and, often, its inscrutability. For example, all of biology is nonlinear; so is sociology. That’s why the soft sciences are hard—and the last to be mathematized. Because of nonlinearity, there’s nothing soft about them. 
[…] 
Sofia Kovalevskaya helped us understand how different the world appears when we finally face up to nonlinearity. She realized that nonlinearity places limits on human hubris. When a system is nonlinear, its behavior can be impossible to forecast with formulas, even though that behavior is completely determined. In other words, determinism does not imply predictability. It took the motion of a top—a child’s plaything—to make us more humble about what we can ever hope to know.
Steven Strogatz, Infinite Powers (2019)

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

'a culture where mystery tends to mean something more answerable'

Then Mrs Rock did something unexpected. She departed from her usual technique and script and started telling George what she actually maybe thought.
She said that in the ancient times the word mystery meant something we're unused to now. The word itself
— and I know this will interest you, Georgia, because I've gathered from talking to you how interested in meanings you are, she said —
— Well, I was, before, George said.
— you will be again, I think it's safe to say that about you, though I'm going a bit out on a limb here and taking a risk saying it, Mrs Rock said. Anyway. The word mystery originally meant a closing, of the mouth or the eyes. It meant an agreement or an understanding that something would not be disclosed.
A closing. Not to be disclosed.
George got interested in spite of herself.
The mysterious nature of some things was accepted then, much more taken for granted, Mrs Rock said. But now we live in a time and in a culture where mystery tends to mean something more answerable, it means a crime novel, a thriller, a drama on TV, usually one where we'll probably find out — and where the whole point of reading it or watching it will be that we will find out — what happened. And if we don't, we feel cheated.
Right then the bell went and Mrs Rock stopped talking. She'd gone bright red up under her hair and round her ears. She stopped talking as if someone had unplugged her. She closed her notebook and it was as if she'd closed her face too.
Ali Smith, How To Be Both (2014)

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

'a few barren and lifeless truths'

I am convinced that the method of teaching which approaches most nearly to the method of investigation, is incomparably the best; since not content with serving up a few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stock on which they grew; it tends to set the reader himself in the track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in which the author has made his own discoveries . . .
Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful (1759, second edition)

Friday, August 8, 2014

'something to reach for'

After that he had talked to Johnson every Saturday for the rest of the year. He talked at random, the kind of talk the boy would never have heard before. He talked a little above him to give him something to reach for. He roamed from simple psychology and the dodges of the human mind to astronomy and the space capsules that were whirling around the earth faster than the speed of sound and would soon encircle the stars. Instinctively he concentrated on the stars. He wanted to give the boy something to reach for besides his neighbor's goods. He wanted to stretch his horizons. He wanted him to see the universe, to see that the darkest parts of it could be penetrated. He would have given anything to be able to put a telescope in Johnson's hands.

Flannery O'Connor, "The Lame Shall Enter First," Everything That Rises Must Converge (1965)

Monday, August 19, 2013

'Such omniscience ... would extinguish its soul'

In science greater knowledge is always and indisputably good; it is by no means so throughout all human existence. We know it from art proper, where achievement and great factual knowledge, or taste, or intelligence, are in no way essential companions; if they were, our best artists would also be our most learned academics. We can know it by reducing the matter to the absurd, and imagining that God, or some Protean visitor from outer space, were at one fell swoop to grant us all knowledge. Such omniscience would be worse than the worst natural catastrophe, for our species as a whole; would extinguish its soul, lose it all pleasure and reason for living.
John Fowles, The Tree (1979)