Toute Médaille a Son Revers

by Allister John Marran

The way we form our ideas, and with that, take our place in the human family, is through critical debate—which is, to consider arguments both for and against our own point of view. 

The French have a saying, ‘Toute médaille a son revers.’ Every medal has its reverse. Yet all too often, the reverse side is blank. Like the medal, there are many intellectual and educational pursuits in life which, in fact, merely give us the illusion of critical debate.

It is not a form of critical debate to watch a YouTube content creator or network news show host talk about a topic, be it political or social or philosophical. It's a style of performative art which plays to a predefined audience to increase viewership or likes. Counter-intuitively, even university classes have served such purpose.

In the vacuum of a sterile single point studio there is no counter point, there is no objectivity. It's simply designed to tell an audience that already believes something that they are right. It serves as an echo chamber to bolster one’s preconceptions.

If one relies on this alone to form a holistic world view, to inform one’s opinions and to guide one’s sensibilities, one will be left far short as a person. One wouldn’t think of walking into a bank expecting to be told about the strengths of another bank. One wouldn't attend a Catholic Church wanting to find out about the teachings of the Buddha.

We are never sold the product we need. We are sold the product that the seller has in stock, or else they lose the sale. It is Business 101.

Why then do people tune in to biased news networks or YouTube shows, even enroll for classes, expecting to get factual and unbiased information? In reality, information itself has no bias. It's the slant of the deliverer, or the recipient, who through accent or omission or misrepresentation allows it to carry a biased weight and a crooked message.

Staring Statistics in the Face

By Thomas Scarborough

George W. Buck’s dictum has it, ‘Statistics don’t lie.’ Yet the present pandemic should give us reason for pause. The statistics have been grossly at variance with one another.

According to a paper in The Lancet, statistics ‘in the initial period’ estimated a case fatality rate or CFR of 15%. Then, on 3 March, the World Health Organisation announced, ‘Globally, about 3.4% of reported COVID-19 cases have died.’ By 16 June, however, an epidemiologist was quoted in Nature, ‘Studies ... are tending to converge around 0.5–1%’ (now estimating the infection fatality rate, or IFR).

Indeed it is not as simple as all this—but the purpose here is not to side with any particular figures. The purpose is to ask how our statistics could be so wrong. Wrong, rather than, shall we say, slanted. Statistical errors have been of such a magnitude as is hard to believe. A two-fold error should be an enormity, let alone ten-fold, or twenty-fold, or more.

The statistics, in turn, have had major consequences. The Lancet rightly observes, ‘Hard outcomes such as the CFR have a crucial part in forming strategies at national and international levels.’ This was borne out in March, when the World Health Organisation added to its announcement of a 3.4% CFR, ‘It can be contained—which is why we must do everything we can to contain it’. And so we did. At that point, human activity across the globe—sometimes vital human activity—came to a halt.

Over the months, the figures have been adjusted, updated, modified, revised, corrected, and in some cases, deleted. We are at risk of forgetting now. The discrepancies over time could easily slip our attention, where we should be staring them in the face.

The statistical errors are a philosophical problem. Cambridge philosopher Simon Blackburn points out two problems with regard to fact. Fact, he writes, 'may itself involve value judgements, as may the selection of particular facts as the essential ones'. The first of these problems is fairly obvious. For example, ‘Beethoven is overrated’ might seem at first to represent a statement of fact, where it really does not. The second problem is critical. We select facts, yet do so on a doubtful basis.

Facts do not exist in isolation. We typically insert them into equations, algorithms, models (and so on). In fact, we need to form an opinion about the relevance of the facts before we even seek them out—learning algorithms not excepted. In the case of the present pandemic, we began with deaths ÷ cases x 100 = CFR. We may reduce this to the equation a ÷ b x 100 = c. Yet notice now that we have selected variables a, b, and c, to the exclusion of all others. Say, x, y, or z.

What then gave us the authority to select a, b, and c? In fact, before we make any such selection, we need to 'scope the system'. We need to demarcate our enterprise, or we shall easily lose control of it. One cannot introduce any and every variable into the mix. Again, in the words of Simon Blackburn, it is the ‘essential’ facts we need. This in fact requires wisdom—a wisdom we cannot do without. In the words of the statistician William Briggs, we need ‘slow, maturing thought’.

Swiss Policy Research comments on the early phase of the pandemic, ‘Many people with only mild or no symptoms were not taken into account.’ This goes to the selection of facts, and reveals why statistics may be so deceptive. They are facts, indeed, but they are selected facts. For this reason, we have witnessed a sequence of events over recent months, something like this:

• At first we focused on the case fatality rate or CFR
• Then we took the infection fatality rate into account, or IFR
• Then we took social values into account (which led to some crisis of thought)
• Now we take non-viral fatalities into account (which begins to look catastrophic)

This is too simple, yet it illustrates the point. Statistics require the wisdom to tell how we should delineate relevance. Statistics do not select themselves. Subjective humans do it. In fact, I would contend that the selection of facts in the case of the pandemic was largely subconscious and cultural. It stands to reason that, if we have dominant social values, these will tend to come first in our selection process.

In our early response to the pandemic, we quickly developed a mindset—a mental inertia which prevented us from following the most productive steps and the most adaptive reasoning, and every tragic death reinforced this mindset, and distracted us. Time will tell, but today we generally project that far more people will die through our response to the pandemic than died from the pandemic itself—let alone the suffering.

The biggest lesson we should be taking away from it is that we humans are not rational. Knowledge, wrote Confucius, is to know both what one knows, and what one does not know. We do not know how to handle statistics.

The Deceptions of Mathematics

by Thomas Scarborough

Galileo Galilei, a man of formidable scientific ability, once wrote that ‘the universe cannot be read until we have learned the (mathematical) language.’  Mathematics, he suggested, would reveal the secrets of the entire cosmos.  It is a common view – yet it is deceptive.  In fact, it may reveal little more than hubris.

On the surface of it, mathematics – even more than science – would seem to be thoroughly objective.  Here there are no failed experiments, no false interpretations, no paradigm shifts.  In mathematics – so it is frequently assumed – there is perfect certainty.

1 + 1 = 2
the logarithm of 1 = 0
the square root of 1 = 1
and so on.

Yet we overlook something, which would seem as simple as one-two-three.  We apply mathematics, by and large, to things in the real world (pure mathematics being the exception to the rule) – and in order so to apply it, we identify units of quantity.  This identification of units of quantity begins with ‘quantification’ – we map our human sense observations into units of quantity, or simply, quantity. 

On first impressions, it might seem to us then that units of quantity come ready made.  Apples come in ones, oranges come in ones – so do people, animals, days, nights, doors, windows, and a great deal more.  And if they do not come in ones, then we may make them into ones: one kilogram, one litre, one block, and so on.  On this basis, we quantify things and perform various mathematical operations on them. 

However, it is not this simple – and even a child might know it.  Our ‘ones’ may really be anything at all – say, clouds with noses (‘I saw three of them today’), ants which fall off the wall (dozens), or dogs which wag their tails, and so on to infinity.  In each case we are dealing with the mathematical unit ‘one’.

The theoretical physicist Albert Einstein would surely have agreed.  He considered that a unit ‘singles out a complex from nature’.  This surely seems a contradiction in terms.  A complex consists of many different and connected parts – parts (plural) which get ‘singled’, out.  That is, one takes a bundle of things or properties, and one defines them as one.  Therefore, various things and various properties may all at once hide inside one and the same single mathematical unit. 

Now this opens up an obvious question.  Who then is to say that our mathematical units – those complexes which we have ‘singled’, out – are precisely the complexes we need for the purpose of our calculations?  Supposing that we really ought to have added something to a complex which we call ‘one’ – or that we really should have taken something out – before we began to make use of it? 

Besides, does one really find such a thing as a complex which is self-contained and closed?  Is not every singled out complex-cum-unit criss-crossed by associations and influences without number?

When we think on it, this is true even of the simplest things in this world.  For instance, we might temporarily assume that the complex ‘hamster’ does not include food or water – it merely refers to a rodent, of which there are so and so many millions in the world.  Yet this complex breaks down at a certain point, as some children can tragically relate, who forgot the food or water.

Consider a thought experiment – as if it had never been conducted before.  Supposing it is true that our complexes might leave things out – or squeeze things in that really ought to be left out.  What then would the logical consequences be?  Of course, high on the list would be that our mathematics may not fit reality, because our mathematical units are ‘not quite right’.  Not only that, but we should easily find examples of this in the world. 

And so it is.  The mathematics of circular orbits and epicycles had to be replaced with the mathematics of elliptical orbits – the mathematics of scalars, then vectors, had to be replaced by the mathematics of tensors.  The mathematics of classical thermodynamics had to be replaced by the mathematics of generalised thermodynamics – and so on.  In fact our complexes may contain an entire world-view which needs to be overhauled – for example, Newtonian physics.  Yet even with the new, we would do well to remember that we have now carved up our world into four mathematical models.

The nineteenth century American philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce saw that ‘every new concept first comes to the mind in a judgment.’  He was saying, apparently, that our ‘ones’ are simply creations of the mind.

On this basis, we may assume that even the simplest of mathematics is not as straightforward as it seems.  In fact mathematics, writes the pioneering statistician William Briggs, requires ‘slow, maturing thought’.  It is not just about numbers, but about wisdom and expansive thinking.

The deceptions are, therefore, that mathematics is objective – and that being objective, it makes an excellent fit with our world – perhaps a perfect fit with the cosmos, as Galileo suggested.   No.  On the contrary, we should see mathematics as a very flawed and very subjective tool – always too simplistic, always in some way violating the totality of the reality in which we live. Mathematics, at the least, should be handled with great humility.

Affirmative Reflections

Posted by Emile Wolfaardt

Are we in danger of suffocating in the ever-shrinking world of parochial narcissism in which we are systematically enclosing ourselves? The sidewalks of history are littered with the carcasses of isolated nations (like Nazi Germany) and individuals (like Jim Jones) who lost the value of objective feedback. We, however, have access to rounded thinking like no generation ever has. At the click of a button one can summon the official and unofficial libraries of the world and the individual and collective wisdom of the ages.

But this access, ironically, may come at a price which is steeper than we want to afford. This is because digital marketing has gone and muddied the waters of our newfound informational freedom. The first quarter of 2016 saw an increase of new revenue in the digital marketing space of $5 billion. And that was gobbled up essentially by two marketing giants -– Google (about 60%) and Facebook (about 40%). Neither of them produced any of the content that generated that income. Instead, it was accomplished with ads that other people or organisations placed in their space. Since the 800 plus commercial TV channels in the USA are owned by roughly a dozen companies, and the 11 000 plus national digital publications are owned by only half of that, what we read online and offline is in the hands of eighteen major sources, who are motivated not by the objectivity of news, but rather by profitability.

Marketing Gurus have long known that the way to generate ‘click revenue’ through their digital marketing is to place their ads in the articles that the masses are reading -– it is the Law of Large Numbers. But here is the twist. They have also learned that people naturally tend to read articles that are congruent with their thinking. The mind, with its innate bias toward self-aggrandizement, typically tends to filter out those that challenge their thinking.

After all, since human nature could not make us perfect, it did the next best thing –- it made us blind to our imperfections. Besides, isn’t it easier to believe the lie we want to than the truth we don’t? In other words, we naturally filter out perspectives that disagree with our own, and focus on those that affirm what we already believe.

Marketers have cottoned on to that big time. Traditional ‘Objective Journalism’ has bowed out to the more financially viable ‘Popular Journalism.’ If journalists want to eat (and many of them do), they must be read. To be read, they must report popular news – news that people want to read – and articles that agree with their thinking. And nestled in those articles is the potential for ‘click revenue.’ The Internet has become a place of hostile comfort built on the deception that the world is as we want it to be –- that indeed, it is the universe we believed in all along.

This begs the rather disturbing question: are we in danger of losing the richness of objective thinking? If we are surrounded by congruent thought, and our perspectives are seldom challenged, we will never rise above the limitation of our current thinking, as perceptions become absolute, and have no gauge of right and wrong, Now that the digital media overwhelms us with warm fuzzy feelings of congruity, we have no easy way of reaching beyond the low ceiling of what we currently see.

One of the great African values, ‘Ubuntu’, suggests that I can only know myself as I see myself through your eyes. Digital marketing recognizes that I tend to read those things that agree with me. Popular journalism is attracting me by letting me see myself and my world through my own eyes. And the result is that I believe in myself even more blindly. As I typically surround myself with people who agree with me, expose myself to media that tends to agree with me, and live in a digital world that leans a bias in my direction, I am slowly working myself deeper and deeper into the deception of comfortable parochial isolation.

It is a dangerous deception -- the examples of Nazi Germany and Jim Jones being just two examples in the vast tragicomedy of our world. Today, while we may have lost the divide between news and entertainment, we do not have to sacrifice the process of objective processing. As Mark Twain famously quipped, “It ain’t what you don’t know that will kill you. It’s what you know that just ain’t so!” This individualised Internet may just have morphed into one giant selfie of deceptive affirmation and fatal comfort. Instead of allowing the frog to slowly succumb in the deception of his ever-warming pot, try these three things to secure your place in reality:

• Have one friend who fundamentally disagrees with you on most things, and actually ‘hear’ him (you know the one) 
• Read one book a month on a topic you are somewhat unfamiliar with, and 
• For one day every two weeks, genuinely take and defend a position that is normally in opposition to yours. The research will either firm up your perspective, or help balance it with a different set of truths.