Archive for July, 2008

Telling your epis from your monos.

Monday, July 14th, 2008

Ok, so how do you remember which are the epimorphisms, which are the monomorphisms, and which way around the funny arrows get used?

Since the textbooks don’t seem eager to offer helpful mnemonics, I offer a forgetful world the following.

It’s the LM/PR rule. L-for-left goes with M-for-mono, and P-almost-for-epi goes almost next to R-for-right. OK?

But what does that mean? Simple. A mono is of course a left-cancellable morphism, and you signal one using an arrow with an extra decoration (a tail) on the left. Dually, an epi is a right-cancellable morphism, and you signal one of those using an arrow with an extra decoration (another head) on the right.

Easy, huh? Well, it works for me — and these days, I’m grateful for all the props I can get … [As always, click on the image to get a full sized version.]

Declutter your Mac!

Monday, July 14th, 2008

This will only be of interest to (a few) other Mac users. But, for what it is worth …

For years, I’ve taken the easy option and just installed one version of Mac OS on top of another, and migrated files from one computer to another. And, all credit to Apple, the easy option has worked just fine. Well, almost. Still, there was a lot of legacy software cluttering up my laptop, loads of ancient files buried in the Library, even bits and pieces of OS 9 stuff, and it wasn’t always clear what could and couldn’t be trashed. And there was a growing number of small glitches (at the level of e.g. some DevonThink scripts not working, Skype always forgetting my account details, a newsreader never quitting gracefully, and so on — you know, the sort of thing you decide you can live with after you’ve spent the first hour failing to sort it). But the newest glitch was the new MobileMe sync service just not recognizing the laptop. And unlike the others, this bug was more seriously annoying. So yesterday I thought the time had perhaps come to clean things up and get back to basics.

I took the nuclear option. With some trepidation. So I archived calendars and address book, made a backup of the whole drive (a second proper clone, not a TimeMachine archive), did an erase-and-install for Leopard, and ran the system updates. Moved back Safari bookmarks, address book, calendars (the mail lives on me.com anyway). Installed iLife. Copied back the main documents folder — which was in any case in a reasonably tidy state — and the iPhoto library. Installed the latest MacTeX LaTeX distribution. Downloaded the latest versions of NoteBook, DevonThink Pro and SuperDuper (the three bits of non-Apple software I’ve bought and still make serious use of), and then the free TextWrangler, Camino and Skype.

And that’s about it, apart from syncing with my iPod. (If I find I actually need anything else, I’ll reinstall it from the backup, as and when. Since you can QuickLook at Word documents, I think I can probably even manage without Open Office.)

It took about five hours in all. Everything is working again now just fine. I have oodles more hard disk space. The little glitches I knew about have disappeared. MobileMe seems very happy. And a lot of other things are just a bit snappier (or is that imagination?). So, it all seems to have been very well worth doing. And the process was painless.

So if like me, you have a cluttered Mac, with annoying little bugs here and there, it really is worth drawing a deep breath, hitting the erase button, finding a good book to read as you watch the progress bars, and putting back together what you actually need. And — being kinda useful, even if not what you most ought to be doing — it makes for another great bit of structured procrastination.

You can fool most of the people most of the time.

Sunday, July 13th, 2008

I’ve mentioned before the estimable Ben Goldacre’s Bad Science column from the Guardian. In fact, his blog is in the list of links on the left; it is well worth following regularly. But this week’s column touches of something of more direct interest to philosophers than usual. Here’s an excerpt

In 1973 a group of academics noticed that student ratings of teachers often seemed to depend more on personality than educational content. They wanted to find out how far this effect could be stretched: what if you had an impressive, charismatic and witty lecturer, who knew nothing at all about the subject on which they were lecturing? Could plausibility alone make an audience feel satisfied that they had learned something, even if the information delivered was deliberately inconsistent, irrelevant, and even meaningless?

They hired a large, affable gentleman who “looked distinguished and sounded authoritative”. They called him “Dr Myron L Fox” and he was given a long, impressive, and fictitious CV. Dr Fox was an authority on the application of mathematics to human behaviour.

They slipped Dr Fox on to the programme at an academic conference on medical education. His audience was made up of doctors, healthcare workers, and academics. The title of his lecture was Mathematical Game Theory as Applied to Physician Education. Dr Fox filled his lecture and his question and answer session with double talk, jargon, dubious neologisms, non sequiturs, and mutually contradictory statements. This was interspersed with elaborate diversions into parenthetical humour and “meaningless references to unrelated topics”. It’s the kind of education you pay good money for in the UK.

The lecture went down well. At the end, a questionnaire was distributed and every person in the audience gave significantly more favourable than unfavourable feedback. The comments were gushing, and yet thoughtful: “excellent presentation, enjoyed listening”, “good flow, seems enthusiastic”, and “too intellectual a presentation, my orientation is more pragmatic”.

The researchers repeated the performance. Time and again they got the same result: the third group consisted of 33 people on a graduate-level university educational philosophy course. Twenty-one had postgraduate qualifications. They loved it: “extremely articulate”, “good analysis of subject that has been personally studied before”, “articulate”, and “knowledgable”, they said.

Nobody can check everything, we’re all interdependent for information, and sometimes you might find yourself in a soulful, detached state, wondering whether everything you think you know is grounded in nothing more than a string of half-remembered assertions from people like Dr Fox.

If you want to read the research report, here it is. It is notable, as the original researchers say, that their sophisticated audiences (including those educational philosophers) failed badly as “competent crap detectors”.

Which makes you wonder. Philosophers of an analytic stripe like to think that they are rather good at detecting intellectual rubbish. But how competent are we really? Still, perhaps one moral to be drawn is that the extended, vigorous, no-respecter-of-persons, test-to-destruction, highly sceptical, all-in-intellectual-wrestling, with which visiting speakers get mauled at least at some UK philosophy departments (Moral Sciences Club, anyone?) does serve an essential intellectual function. It makes it less easy to get away with the crap.

A Tuscan wine list …

Friday, July 11th, 2008

Before it all becomes too distant, a few — ignorant and purely subjective! — wine memories from our Tuscany trip, mostly local wines from around Castelnuovo Beradenga. Quite a few of these wines are available from good merchants in the UK and USA, so these notes aren’t just of idle interest. Do go and indulge! The stars — as in (*) — represent the number of bicchiere in the Gambero Rosso wine guide. One star is pretty good, and three is a classic.

  • Fèlsina, Beradenga Chianti Classico ‘05 (*). Still a bit closed(?) but opens up nicely after a few hours. I can get this in Cambridge and maybe I’ll put a few bottles under the stairs for a while. (Felsina’s recent top wines are by all accounts amazing, but we didn’t splash out this trip. I was going to say that this is their entry level wine. But actually, you go round the back of their winery, and can get last year’s unbottled at 1.80 euro a litre into your plastic box, and that’s pretty good too!)
  • Fèlsina, Beradenga I Sistri ‘05 (*). Their chardonnay: very different from New World chardonnays and indeed from French ones. But I thought the ‘04 we had last year was better. This is just a bit too heavy perhaps with surprisingly little nose. (But I’ve bought another bottle here, just to check, you understand …)
  • Poggio Bonelli, Chianti Classico ‘01 (later years get * or **). This was recommended by our local restaurant, and comes from just down the road. Inexpensive but perhaps the best Chianti we drank all month. The bottle age made it very rounded, almost unusually smooth for sangiovese, without losing character. Excellent!
  • San Felice, Chianti Classico ‘05 (*). Rather undistinguished, I thought, though others thought it better of it. Maybe I was just getting picky.
  • San Felice, Il Grigio, Chianti Classico Riserva ‘04 (*). Rather better but again I wasn’t particularly impressed.
  • San Felice, Pugnitello ['04 I think]. Now this was something else. “Rediscovered” old Tuscan grape-variety. Quite excellent. Purple, complex, very full in the mouth, but not overwhelming. Very drinkable!
  • Ricasoli, Castello di Brolio, Chianti Classico ‘04 (***). Very good indeed. A quintessential “modern” Chianti. (I suppose you might say it was a bit “middle of the road”, but it has enough character and texture — and I bet will be terrific in a few years).
  • Dievole, La Vendemmia Chianti Classico ‘05 (*). Gambero Rosso says “easy drinking”, and yes, it was. Good for a light meal.
  • Dievole, Broccato ['04 I think] (*). This is a sangiovese blend, much fuller bodied. I think the Gambero Rosso underestimated this. Excellent for a heavier Tuscan meal! (An honourable mention too, by the way, to Dievole’s Rosato, which is terrific hot-weather quaffing wine — which we’d have drunk more of if the weather had been better.)
  • Villa Arceno, Chianti Classico ‘05 (*). This is the really local wine, which our restaurant gives you as their wine-by-the-glass. Nothing outstanding, but as-it-were essence of good-ordinary-Chianti.
  • Lornano, Commendator Enrico ‘04 (**). Sangiovese/merlot which we usually drink at the Bottega di Lornano. Seriously good for accompanying Tuscan-style food.
  • Castello del Terriccio, Lupicaia ‘04 (***). No. Philosophers aren’t paid that much. This was by courtesy of a very generous son-in-law! Even so young was sumptuous. Classic. Words fail. And in a few more years must be unbelievable. (Drank this at Bottega del 30, surely one of the best restaurants in the world, just a couple of miles away. Sigh.)

Parsons’s Mathematical Thought: Secs 8 – 11

Friday, July 11th, 2008

Back, after rather a gap, to Charles Parsons’s book and on to the first half of his second chapter, “Structuralism and nominalism”.

(Sec. 8) Parsons says that he himself thinks that “something close to the structuralist view is true”. But structuralist in what sense? It is often said, perhaps in a Bourbachiste spirit, that mathematics is the study of structures. But – as Parsons stresses — that leaves it wide open what picture we should adopt of the ontology of mathematical objects. He is more concerned with structuralism(s) with more ontological bite — something along the lines suggested by “the objects of mathematics are positions in structures, [and] have no identity or features outside of a structure” (to quote from Michael Resnik’s well-known 1981 Nous paper).

(Sec. 9) But what are structures? The usual modern mathematical story sees these as sets (or classes) with distinguished elements, equipped with relations and/or functions. So it looks as though an account of mathematical objects as positions in structures already presupposes familiar kinds of objects (sets, classes) to build structures out of, and explaining their nature in structuralist terms threatens circularity. But Parsons puts this worry on hold for the moment.

(Sec. 10) So go with the set-theoretic conception of structure, just pro tem, and consider as an exemplar Dedekind’s treatment of the natural numbers. Dedekind defines what it is for a set N, with distinguished element 0, and a mapping S: N -> N – {0} to be “simply infinite”. Abbreviate those (categorical) conditions Ω(N, 0, S). With some effort, an ordinary statement of arithmetic can be correlated with a version A(N, 0, S) whose primitives are again N, 0, S. And on one reading of Dedekind — the eliminative reading — the suggestion is that the ordinary statement can be treated as elliptical for

For any N, 0, S, if Ω(N, 0, S) then A(N, 0, S).

This is ‘eliminative’ in that a statement apparently about one kind of thing, numbers, is treated as in fact a disguised generalization about other kinds of things. The suggestion neatly sidesteps “multiple reduction” problems for more straightforward attemps to reduce arithmetic to set theory. But (on the face of it) it faces the worry that if there are no simply infinite systems then any ordinary arithmetical statement comes out as vacuously true and arithmetic is inconsistent. True, that first worry won’t be pressing if we already buy into a background universe with enough sets, but it will become more urgent when we try to repeat the trick and give an eliminative structuralist account of them. And there’s a related second worry. Ω(N, 0, S) will involve quantification over sets, as indeed will a typical A(N, 0, S) as we give explicit definitions of e.g. recursive arithmetical functions. Do we want really want a structuralist account of a particular familiar kind of mathematical object, numbers, to tells us that we’ve been generalizing about some other rather less familiar kind of object all along? (Parsons wonders: Maybe we need to generalize over structures to state structuralism as a general thesis: but does a structuralist account of a particular kind of object have to similarly generalize over structures?)

(Sec. 11) Well, we can sidestep the second of those worries, and the worries of Sec. 9, perhaps, by trading in an explicitly set-theoretic presentation of Dedekind’s eliminative structuralism for a version couched in second-order logical terms. We get a new second-order definition of being simply infinite, Ω’(N, 0, S), a new correlate of an ordinary arithmetical claim, A‘(N, 0, S), and correspondingly a new suggestion that the ordinary statement can be treated as elliptical for

For any N, 0, S, if Ω’(N, 0, S) then A’(N, 0, S).

where now ‘any N‘ and ‘any S‘ are treated as second-order. If we are relaxed enough about second-order quantification, we might find this easier to swallow that the previous version (though that’s quite a big “if”). However, this kind of ‘if-thenism’ is still threatened by the possibility of vacuity. What to do?

One option is to read the conditional as stronger-than-material, e.g. by discerning a governing modal operator. But that opens up another set of problems. What kind of modality is involved here? Can we e.g. give a modest possibility-as-consistency reading? Perhaps “we interpret the theories in an if-thenist way, but deal with the problem of possibility by appealing to consistency, nominalistically interpreted.” The suggestion is to be pursued critically in Sec. 12.

OK, so much by way of brisk summary of these sections (I didn’t find them entirely easy to follow, but I hope I’ve fairly represented the way the discussion develops). I don’t think I have much to add by way of commentary: in fact, the dialectic so far is a pretty familiar one.

Geektastic: Finite Simple Group (of Order Two)

Saturday, July 5th, 2008

Luca Incurvati gave me a link to this (you see, it’s non-stop serious work in the philosophy grad. centre). Yep, ok, it seems to be have been around for a good while: but I’ve only just seen it, and guess that it might be new to someone else too. Enjoy!