Saturday, July 4, 2009

On Truth and Information

In recent years, several philosophers of computing, such as Fred Dretske(1932-) and Luciano Floridi (1964-), have established to a great many people’s satisfaction that for something to be called information, it should allow us to learn something that is true. They argue that false information is not information, just as a false policeman is not a policeman.

In my June 20 contribution to this blog I rather incautiously mentioned the pursuit of the truth about (the laws of) the physical world, and I hinted that I felt this was not the business of science, or research for that matter. Truth is a great concept and a noble ideal, but as I mentioned in the April 18 contribution, the more truthful we make any statement, the less clear it is, and the narrower the scope of its application. In a way, the only absolutely truthful statements are the formal tautologies of pure mathematics, the necessary truths that depend on nothing, and so add nothing to our knowledge. Conversely, any statement that is not necessarily true is merely (by definition) contingently true. It might be true, that is, if (um..) everything were really as it says. There are few philosophers, and even fewer scientists, who feel that this sort of circular discussion is worth while.

And yet, precisely this kind of argument has fascinated people for millennia. Descartes’ necessary truth “cogito, ergo sum” (1641) was the start of his argument to prove the existence of God and the immortality of the soul. A very similar exercise by Bernard Lonergan (1904-1984) achieved a wide currency in 1956. Now the reader should always smell a rat if someone claims to prove a contingent truth from a necessary one. The Australian philosopher David Stove (1927-1994) catalogued a large number of such arguments from Plato to Habermas: explaining that since they want to make everyone accept their opinion, it is a good trick to make it appear merely a logical deduction from a necessary truth. The trick can be made to work, as he explains, with the support of some impressive but contradictory concept, in the same way that division by zero can be used to create a convincing-looking proof. Usually though, such philosophers are vainly trying to use logic to establish some belief which predates their attempt and will outlast their failure.

To return to computing: every piece of information, according to all of us who follow Floridi and Dretske, contains its very own claim of contingent truth. By labelling it as information, we claim that it is not just some sample data: it will allow a suitably placed observer to learn something about the real world (Dretske 1981), at the time the information was constructed. This field of thinking has its own thought-experiments, for example, a bear-track in the woods contains the information that a bear passed that way whether or not anyone ever notices the spoor, and anyone suitably placed to notice it can learn this content.

The raw data from a survey, or a sheaf of newspaper cuttings, may well contain a lot of information that can be drawn to our attention by a suitably placed researcher. Unlike the bear-track in the woods, however, the survey was collected, and the newspaper articles written, by humans who have well-known tendencies to misperception, mistake, misinformation… So while the Internet doubtless contains a lot of useful information, I know it also contains much that is erroneous, ill-informed, and misleading. In research we don’t accept any of it uncritically. We try to stick to good sources of information, we try for honesty in our evidence gathering, and we try to take care in our conclusions, in our mission to increase the stock of knowledge in our academic discipline.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Supervision

Whose research is it? Yours. The basic idea will be something that the supervisor is an expert in (or you need another supervisor), but since you are making a new contribution to knowledge, at the end of the process you will be the world expert in your subject.
Your supervisor plays hugely important roles throughout the process though. At the start, they will help you with the relevant literature and established approaches. As the research progresses, they will help with methodology, with planning the research, and helping you phrase your research questions. Once you have parts of your thesis in draft, they will provide an invaluable critique of the flow of argument, and the construction of your thesis as a piece of rationally-argued writing. Your supervisor will also play a crucial role in selecting your external examiners, and being your supporter and eyes and ears during the viva.
Above all, throughout the process, they are following your journey, engaging in the discussions, playing the part of reader of your thesis and papers, reacting in the ways that your audience and your examiners might to the parts of your work that are new and surprising, so that you can fine-tune your arguments and make sure there are no loose ends.
The relationship between student and supervisor can sometimes be stormy - it is always a two way process, and a second supervisor can sometimes play a useful role in getting things back on track. It can and should be inspiring.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

All models are wrong

.. but some models are useful (George Box et al, 2009, p.61). What makes a model useful? Some theories of science have made grand descriptions in terms of prediction, explanation etc, but it really comes down to a consensus. Today (June 20th) it is reported that the British Government has decided that the spelling rule “I before e except after c” should no longer be taught in schools because the large number of exceptions made it useless. Such a rule is of course one of observation rather than a law of nature, but on close inspection it is easy to find hidden qualifications to any law you care to mention.
Until very recently, many in the scientific community used to imagine that they were discovering the truth about how the physical world works. Whewell (1833, p.256) quotes Lagrange’s opinion “that Newton was fortunate in having the system of the world for his problem, since its theory could be discovered once only”. Now a lake can be discovered only once, but systems are merely constructed, and many refinements and re-interpretations will be possible. Twentieth century physics revealed unimaginable strangeness, needing many alternative and conflicting models to apply to quantum mechanics, diffraction, cosmology, etc., and there was some useful criticism of old notions such as “final causes” (basically, boundary conditions at infinity).
Many researchers in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century searched only for natural laws expressible in terms of differential equations. Since this search followed so closely after the development of the calculus it appears with hindsight that these men with a new hammer suddenly saw nails everywhere.
The same hindsight opens our eyes to the serious untruths in their “natural laws”: on close inspection a natural law does not actually apply everywhere, but only (um..) where it applies (e.g. in the absence of discontinuities, in a neighbourhood of the origin). To be fair, talk of truth or laws was mostly a habit of speech: the models described in these laws are useful in telling us what to expect in the sort of situation for which the model was designed. In other situations or on close inspection we might need a different or more refined model.
As with final causes, or the ether, models can be useful even when they conflict with other models (seem counter-intuitive) or don’t fit with current ideas of causality. For example, classical field theory remains useful, even though we know that action at a distance is impossible, and that there is a better model based on radiation. Non-existent lakes will eventually be removed from atlases, but models will continue as long as somebody finds them useful.

References:
Box, G. E. P; Luceo, A.; Paniagua-quinones, M. d. C. (2009): Statistical Control by Monitoring and Feedback Adjustment, 2nd ed. (Wiley) ISBN 0470148322
Whewell, W. (1833) Astronomy and General Physics: Considered with Reference to Natural Theology

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Evaluation and testing

If your contribution to knowledge is a better way of doing something, coming up with the idea (and maybe implementing it somehow) is only half the battle. The real work will come with evaluation, and this will need a methodology all on its own.
Most new algorithms are tested against data sets found in the literature and things are interesting if in some sense your idea performs better than its predecessors in these tests. But there are often problems with this approach – and I have occasionally seen a conspiracy of silence where anyone can see that the comparison is not entirely fair. After all, if your new algorithm is suited to a particular class of problem not previously addressed, then why test in some previous or different scenario? There are difficulties in using data from a different problem scenario, or comparing with an algorithm that was actually tackling a different issue. This sort of test is rarely more than the researcher’s equivalent of “Hello world”. The conspiracy of silence arises because this test is standard in the literature, and is used for convenience even though everyone knows that the data is unrealistically simplistic, or has been cleaned to remove any real-world difficulties.
On the other hand, artificial data, designed to exhibit the sort of issue that your idea helps to solve, has a value. It is dealing with the sort of hypothesis that starts “Problems reported with this aircraft control system may be associated with …” and your investigation is as much about exploring some peculiar feature that might occasionally occur in the data, and exploring responses to such a feature from the existing algorithms and yours, to see if the hypothesised feature was the source of the actual difficulty.
If your contribution arises from some solving a real-world problem, it will probably need a lot more work to collect real-world data and draw real-world conclusions. Space and time considerations limit most PhD theses, and all conference papers, to artificial, toy examples. Maybe though, some preliminary data can be analysed within the PhD (and lead to a job with the company with the problem so you can work on the real data) and the evaluation part can be beefed up with actual comments about the value of the contribution from those more familiar with the real-world problem.
In addition, the implementation of the idea in your PhD will probably have the nature of a prototype, which will need to be re-implemented within a real-world control system. Again, space and time considerations make it unlikely that real production software will be used in your PhD or any publication resulting from it. But actual adoption of the approach within the industrial process will count as a complete proof of the value of your contribution, and any progress in this direction should go in your thesis.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Ethics and bad research

Like “health and safety”, the phrase “research ethics” tends to elicit weary groans from many researchers. A full discussion is obviously out of place in this blog, but it seems obvious that research should not do actual harm without a very convincing argument. What I would like to focus on is whether bad research is ever ethical.
By bad research I mean research that is poorly thought out, where data cannot reliably support the sort of investigation for which they were collected. People have used up time, and costs incurred, for no benefit. In my view such research is always unethical, since its value (roughly zero) does not justify the trouble it has taken. It may cause actual harm, possibly even to the whole process of research, if enough people find it ridiculous. Future funding, or the cooperation of potential subjects, may be affected if research does not seem to be useful.
You therefore need to explain why your research really is useful, and why your subjects have to answer a long list of strange-looking questions. This explanation is for when you approach potential subjects, supervisors and sources of funding. You need to be open about what your research is about and what its expected benefits are. You must not use any deception in your approach to any of these people. Not can you say (yet) what the conclusions will be. Sometimes (rarely?) it will not be possible without compromising the research outcomes to tell your subjects what the hypothesis is, but you must be able to explain the expected area of benefit of the research and why they have been approached. Also, you should never collect data without discussing these aspects first.
An anecdote may help explain this point. Suppose you are at a management training course and you are given a set of objectives to prioritise. It is late in the day, and they all look important so you just take the first six and make up some spurious reasons for your choice. You could well be irritated if these priorities are fed back to senior management in your company – in two ways. Because your careless reasoning may be subjected to more scrutiny tan you would like, and this reflects badly on you. But more importantly, you fear that these may be the wrong priorities, and if you had known they would be used, you would have taken more care over them. Because of the careless way the data has been collected you do not know if your performance will be unfairly judged, or if the organisation will now change its behaviour as a result of bad data.
The selection of sources of data, whether from human subjects or more generally, requires the greatest care, and has been discussed in an earlier entry in this blog, as the chosen pattern will have a crucial bearing on the scope of validity of your conclusions. What data you collect, and how, will limit its interpretation, and this too has been discussed in the entry on research methodology. You probably won’t need to get ethical clearance unless your research involves living subjects, but the application you make before you start will provide a concise overview of the plan for your research and how the conclusions will be drawn. Even if you don’t need ethical clearance, you should protect your research by thinking these things out.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

The MPhil safety net

If you don’t yet have a contribution to knowledge that can be communicated in a PhD thesis, don’t despair. This might be because you are at an early stage in your research, still looking at the literature to find a suitable gap, or because your investigation hasn’t yet led to any conclusions. The latter case is easier since by this stage you should be fairly sure that the investigation will lead to conclusions that ought to be of interest. You supervisors will advise you what sort of conclusions will interest your academic audience: it is important to be guided by their advice.
But it does sometimes happen that a line of research leads nowhere, or simply rediscovers something that is already in the literature. This is not a source of any shame: discuss the problem openly with your supervisors. Maybe they can advise on an interesting change of direction, or an improvement to the investigative machinery you are using.
If not, then the options are to start again with a new problem, or to write up the research as an MPhil instead of PhD. MPhil is a perfectly respectable degree, and especially if your work has led to a useful overview of the literature, digest of existing theory, and description of the primary work that you have carried out, then simply submit it for MPhil.
How does the MPhil thesis differ from PhD? They both have an abstract, introduction, literature review, primary research, conclusions and suggestions for further work. The formal difference is in the primary research section. They both will give an account of the initial investigations into the research question posed in the Introduction. But the PhD thesis will then discuss the process of refinement identifying the contribution to knowledge, and the more detailed investigation that establishes this securely.
If your career is already beyond the PhD stage, and your research is for establishing a track record in an area that is new to you, it is unlikely that anything useful will be gained by attempting to publish results that don’t make a contribution to knowledge. Use the work in your lectures by all means, but don’t waste the time of reviewers and editors.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Write the abstract

Your abstract will be a small work of art. It will be about 250 words, but will describe your contribution to knowledge in a way that sets it in the context of current work in your academic discipline.
There are major limitations on the style of an abstract. You do not have the luxury of a list of references: the text must be self-contained, and there is obviously little space for any account of your evidence or methods, or for quotations from other work. Even more than the rest of the thesis, the abstract should avoid using the first person, or equivalent phrases like “the author”, since the abstract, like the blurb on the outside of a paperback, is in the style of a review of your work.
The PhD examination is likely to pay particular attention to the wording of the abstract. Everything it promises must be delivered in the thesis in a very obvious way – it is a good idea to ensure that phrases used in the abstract should appear as titles in the table of contents. Thus in miniature it gives an overview of your thesis.
It is a good idea to write a first draft of the abstract quite early on in the research. If you can’t describe your contribution to knowledge in 250 words, you should refine your ideas until you can.
On the other hand, once you have stated your contribution to knowledge in this succinct way, every part of the final thesis will contribute to establishing it. Any material, no matter how clever, that is not directly relevant to this task is likely to be removed from the thesis, either by you or your examiners.