Thursday, November 29, 2012

Islands in the dark

Just today I was introduced to this tidbit of philosophical poetry from the 6th century. It struck me as interesting how the concepts of things such as good and evil are presented as elements of a pattern that might be thought of as following some set of physical laws.   Even after two hundred years of the dark ages had perverted civilization in Europe the beauty derived from a shadow of the concept of a deistic god provoked verse.  Europe would remain in the dark ages for another eight hundred years before the ideas in this fragment of poetry could openly bear fruit.


  From Anicius Manlius Severinus Boëthius's Consolatio Philosophiae written in the year 524.  Translated by H.F Stewart and E. K. Rand in 1918. 

Consolatio Philosophiae
       IV
 
Si uis celsi iura tonantis
Pura sollers cernere mente,
Aspice summi culmina caeli.
Illic iusto foedere rerum
Veterem seruant sidera pacem.                                            
Non sol rutilo concitus igne
Gelidum Phoebes impedit axem
Nec quae summo uertice mundi
Flectit rapidos Vrsa meatus.
Numquam occiduo lota profundo                                            
Cetera cernens sidera mergi
Cupit oceano tingere flammas.
Semper uicibus temporis aequis
Vesper seras nuntiat umbras
Reuehitque diem Lucifer almum.                                           
Sic aeternos reficit cursus
Alternus amor, sic astrigeris
Bellum discors exulat oris.
Haec concordia temperat aequis
Elementa modis, ut pugnantia                                            
Vicibus cedant umida siccis
Iungantque fidem frigora flammis
Pendulus ignis surgat in altum
Terraeque graues pondere sidant.
Isdem causis uere tepenti                                              
Spirat florifer annus odores,
Aestas Cererem feruida siccat,
Remeat pomis grauis autumnus,
Hiemem defluus inrigat imber.
Haec temperies alit ac profert                                           
Quidquid uitam spirat in orbe.
Eadem rapiens condit et aufert
Obitu mergens orta supremo.
 
 
      If thou would'st see
    God's laws with purest mind,
    Thy sight on heaven must fixéd be,
  Whose settled course the stars in peace doth bind.
      The sun's bright fire
    Stops not his sister's team,
    Nor doth the northern bear desire
  Within the ocean's wave to hide her beam.
      Though she behold
    The other stars there couching,
    Yet she uncessantly is rolled
  About high heaven, the ocean never touching.
      The evening light
    With certain course doth show
    The coming of the shady night,
  And Lucifer before the day doth go.
      This mutual love
    Courses eternal makes,
    And from the starry spheres above
  All cause of war and dangerous discord takes.
      This sweet consent
    In equal bands doth tie
    The nature of each element,
  So that the moist things yield unto the dry,
      The piercing cold
    With flames doth friendship keep,
    The trembling fire the highest place doth hold,
  And the gross earth sinks down into the deep.
      The flowery year
    Breathes odours in the spring
    The scorching summer corn doth bear,
  The autumn fruit from laden trees doth bring.
      The falling rain
    Doth winter's moisture give.
    These rules thus nourish and maintain
  All creatures which we see on earth to live. 



Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The plural of anecdote [is | is not] data

I like stories, and many people I know like stories. You can make a story by gluing together a bunch of related observations. Polish spurious details out of a story with a little context and it can become a metaphor.

Anecdotes are stories that are either: “real and interesting” or “hearsay and unreliable”. Recently I have taken note of the term anecdote being defined both ways in the same talk. Somehow calling a story an anecdote tells you something about the story, but what it tells you depends on something external to the term “anecdote”.

The telling and understanding of stories has been a defining element of human culture possibly dating back to before the emergence of Homo sapiens. How to handle the information in a story can be a defining element of personality, and so the telling of stories stitches a person to a culture.

Anthropologists have used the collected stories of selected cultures to describe important aspects of them. We look to collected stories about happenings in our society to understand its culture, and we often call those stories anecdotes. In this freshly bedded election candidates threw anecdotes around like facts in order to persuade the listeners to invest in their understanding of our culture.

As human civilization has developed the ability to handle information and facts has matured. Though there is still a need for anecdotes we now have “data” and “theories” that themselves are parts of a self-referential context for our cultural understanding.

“The plural of anecdote is data” -- Raymond Wolfinger 1969

The idea that collected anecdotes can comprise a data set is enticingly simple. This definition places stories into a modern context. In much the same way that we can define information content of a particular datum we might be able to quantitatively asses the cultural relevance of an anecdote. This definition even puts the competing definitions of anecdote into place. There is good data and bad data just as there are real and unreliable anecdotes.

I particularly like the Wolfinger’s definition of anecdote as it bridges the divide between a modern understanding of culture and a primitive sitting-around-the-campfire-eating-partially-burnt-gazelle approach to culture. I cannot immediately picture most English majors I have known sitting around a campfire ripping chunks of crispy meat off of a freshly killed gazelle haunch , but the definition also helps to bridge an understanding of cultural relevance between humanities and the sciences. I suppose the definition could be viewed as a good will gesture between mutually misunderstanding branches of study equivalent to the “welcome to our fire” handshake still slippery with the fat of the successful hunt.

Wolfinger is a well-known political scientist who first crafted the definition as a rejoinder to a student of his who was dismissing a piece of data as “just an anecdote”.

"I said 'The plural of anecdote is data' some time in the 1969-70 academic year while teaching a graduate seminar at Stanford. The occasion was a student's dismissal of a simple factual statement -- by another student or me -- as a mere anecdote.” -- Raymond Wolfinger

Many of my readers will immediately identify Wolfinger’s definition as being the opposite of the popular saying that:

“The plural of anecdote is not data” -- Frank Kotsonis or Roger Brinner

It is interesting to note that these competing sayings may have been in informal use long before the time of reliably preserved memories of their usage. In other words there are anecdotal accounts of their use that predate the cited first uses (and the citations I have found for first use are sketchy).

Though I like Wolfinger’s definition because it is simply true the Kotsonis and Brinner’s saying is more accurate.

Data is information that can be used for a purpose. Usually this purpose is formal representation of something. By formal I mean quantitative through the application of specific measures of relevance, but in practice these can be abstracted to some informal description of a representative connection.

At best anecdotes can be representative data elements within a population that describe something similar to the “mode”or median in elementary statistics. They can also be descriptions of other statistical elements; like outliers or even unrelated elements. At worst they are stories designed to misrepresent the population from which they are pulled.

This can be well illustrated by using anecdote as an adjective. Picture a report of a “median income” figure from a state. The idea of median tells you something about the population of the state. Now imagine a report describing an “anecdotal income”. The larger the population the anecdotal figure is drawn from the less actual information it conveys about the population.

Now picture the word “random” similarly used as an adjective. A random income figure from a population says more about the population than an anecdotal figure. The plural of random information is data. Anecdotes are not randomly derived so having many of them does not comprise a data set; at least not a useful data set.

Because of the cognitive bias of the human mind an anecdote over-represents any population it is pulled from. In essence anecdotes are multiplied in the mind until the data set is re-constructed by this clonally derived plural. An anecdote is selected on the basis of some bias (even if that bias is as seemingly innocuous as “being interesting”) and multiplying the anecdote amplifies that selection bias.

“Anecdotes are not selected at random or they would just be data”




Monday, November 12, 2012

Come Home Soon

Today is the day that the people of the United States officially celebrate the service of all those who have ever honorably worn the uniform of one of its armed forces.

Thank you for your service.

An American soldier follows orders that are conceived from mission plans which in turn come from strategies devised to achieve the will of the population of our democratic republic. We all must shoulder the responsibility for the decisions that make young people soldiers, but only the soldiers shoulder the risks when they are put into harms way.

Veteran’s day was grafted as an American observance onto Armistice day following World War Two. Armistice Day marks the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month as that is the time (Paris time) that the armistice marking the end of World War One (The War to End All Wars) took effect. Veterans day is observed on the first Monday after Armistice Day as it is always better to do things with the day off work.

Because of its origins in the international day of celebrating the end of World War One it is not too surprising that one poem that gets trotted out more than most for this ocation was written by a British poet who died on 23 April 1915 en route to Gallipoli at the height of World War One.

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

“The soldier” by Rupert Chawner Brooke

Brooke would die aboard a ship; his body wrecked by dysentery and sepsis. There was no “Rich Earth” or “Flowers to Love” where he died.

Brooke’s close friend William Denis Browne attended his death. William was a British composer and pianist who knew of Rupert’s desire to be buried in the earth. William took Rupert’s body ashore at Skyros, and had him buried in an Olive grove there. William would die at Gallipoli on June 4th.

Today thousands of veterans have returned home from conflicts old and new. Today many more of them return home “only” wounded. Today the American soldier is more likely to take his own life than to have been killed in conflict with an enemy.

Too often when two veterans meet for the first time the only conversation they have is: “Where and for how long?” Though this might be more pronounced amongst former frontline grunts the veteran who simply affixed missiles to a drone in some distant base will also see something in the fleeting distance as if part of their poetry was washed away with blood.

Ironically we remember only Rupert’s death wishes as they relate to his being a soldier. It is as if we have heard his poem a hundred times, and only asked: “Where and for how long?” Rupert may have died before his thirtieth birthday, but he lived his life more fully in that time than could be captured in describing his few short months in the Royal Navy.

O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."

from “The Great Lover” by Rupert Chawner Brooke

On occasions like today it is a great pleasure to say “Thank you for your service” to our veterans. However, on every day it is a greater pleasure to be able to say “Welcome Home!”, and when asked to remember those who have not made it home I would rather say “He (or She) Loved!