Archive for August, 2008

Contributing off the cuff?

Sunday, August 31st, 2008

Relatively recently, we’ve started having an occasional in-house one-day faculty colloquium, where staff and grad students give papers on their current work. I’ve just been asked if I’d like to talk to the next one, so I offered to chat about induction in second-order arithmetics (introducing some of the themes from this paper). But the organizer wasn’t sold on the suitability of the idea: a non-expert member of the audience might get to see what the issues are, but “could not him/herself hope to contribute”. So I’m off the hook.

But that response got me thinking. Once upon a time — in my philosophical lifetime, indeed — you could “keep up” over quite a wide front, and so dive in and intelligently discuss issues across quite a range with colleagues and visiting speakers. But really, how possible is that nowadays? Editing a journal made me vividly aware that, with almost any narrow topic, there’s a now serious, sophisticated, well-developed, very clever literature out there, where the moves, counter-moves, counter-counter-moves are analysed and explored many levels deep. So I wonder if there is any way in which the non-expert can seriously hope to “contribute” off the cuff in response to a talk (unless that just means asking intelligent questions for further elucidation). The problem is obvious with the technical philosophy of maths, for example: but isn’t it now actually the same pretty much right across the board? Is the conception of a wide-ranging colloquium with discussions to which the audience generally might hope to “contribute” past it sell-by date? I rather suspect so. Or do younger and more energetic philosophers feel differently?

Honest Toil

Saturday, August 30th, 2008

I’m just catching up with the (fairly) new and excellent blog Honest Toil from Chris Pinnock.

Naturalism in the Philosophy of Mathematics

Saturday, August 30th, 2008

Alex Paseau has a new entry in the Stanford Encyclopedia on ‘Naturalism in the Philosophy of Mathematics‘. If I was being picky, I’d perhaps say that student readers will find that it dives in the deep end a bit quickly. But I found Alex’s useful distinction-making and rather sceptical reflections very helpful.

Mediocrity and bullshit

Monday, August 25th, 2008

“I have never pretended to political correctness, so I can happily abhor the sanctimonious politically correct bullshit that made the British contribution to the Olympic closing ceremony so appalling. The most dull dancing imaginable, completely unsuited in scale to the ceremony, and mismatching the Royal Ballet with (wait for it) a South London Hip-Hop ensemble and a dance group featuring able and disabled dancers. The quality produced was risible – it would not have graced a county fair, let alone the Olympics.

The PR bullshit said we were “honouring diversity”. No, we were honouring mediocrity, and then apparently honouring Hello magazine by introducing Leona Lewis and David Beckham. I think I should run in the 100 metres in 2012, thus honouring diversity by vastly increasing our representation of overweight and unhealthy middle-aged men.”

My thoughts exactly. Or rather, Craig Murray’s thoughts, but I concur wholeheartedly.

Back to Sammartini

Monday, August 25th, 2008

An old friend has just given me, burnt on to a CD, some symphonies of Sammartini, taken from an old Saga LP from the 1960s. Instantly takes me back to my student rooms in Trinity. And quite wonderful to hear again.

Saga was one of the cheap record labels of the time (another was the terrific Supraphon, from which I got to know a lot of East European and Russian music). It wasn’t that cheap though, by modern standards: buying a record was still quite an event. If I’m remembering right, Saga records were about 12/6 — that’s twelve shillings and sixpence to you! — when full-price records were about 32/6. To put things into perspective, that was then about the cost of three Penguin books, five pints of beer, or twenty five Mars bars. Compare now when Naxos CDs are cheaper than Penguins, cost not much more than two pints, or a dozen Mars bars. And of course there’s about twice as much music on a classical CD compared with an LP, and they aren’t instantly damaged by dodgy student turntables!

MacBook Air, one month on

Sunday, August 24th, 2008

Anyone out there who is wavering about getting a MacBook Air might be interested in some comments from a new owner. Everyone else can, of course, just cheerfully ignore this posting! (The headline summary is: get one! — though perhaps not quite today as there is rumour of a chip upgrade soon.)

  1. The portability is fantastic. No question. Just to compare: I’ve had a 15″ Titanium PowerBook, a 15″ G4 PowerBook, and a 17″ MacBook Pro before; and they’ve of course been portable in the sense I could heave them from home to my office and back. But all of them were just too heavy/bulky to make that particularly convenient. I very rarely bothered to take them elsewhere, e.g. to a coffee shop. (You might well ask why on earth, in that case, I had portables at all! Answer: Partly because our Cambridge house is very small, my “study” is the size of a large cupboard, and I very much like to be able to work in the kitchen for a change of scene, or answer emails with a computer on my knees in the living room in the evening. And partly I wanted to be able to drive data projectors when lecturing.) Anyway, by contrast with the earlier portables, I can and do cheerfully tote the MBA (in its snug protective sleeve) anywhere, without really thinking about it, whether or not I’m definitely planning to use it. It just is so light and convenient.
  2. Some reviews complained about the MBA’s footprint, saying that it isn’t a genuine ultraportable. Well, true, the footprint isn’t in fact that much smaller that the 15″ machine, and I can imagine e.g. that very frequent fliers would find it a pain to use in the cramped conditions of an airline seat. But that sort of issue doesn’t arise for me. The thinness means that you can carry it so comfortably in a hand, and otherwise the footprint goes with the stunningly good, uncramped, screen and the generous keyboard.
  3. I don’t use the MBA to watch movies, or do anything else very processor-intensive. So I’ve never had a temperature-induced core shut-down. And the battery life seems just fine: well over three hours for writing, text-browsing, reading. Recharging though is pretty slow: but if you need to take it with you, then — unlike the small brick for the 17″ — the MBA’s charger is very small and portable (though I’ve bought a second one for the office, and so don’t find in practice I need to carry it around).
  4. One main reason I traded up a couple of years ago from the 15″ G4 machine was that LaTeX ran pretty slowly: nearly 30 seconds to typeset my Gödel book on the G4, about 4 seconds on the new intel MacBook Pro. The MBA, despite its slower chip, seems almost as fast running LaTeX , and indeed in most other ways: occasionally, e.g. when opening an application, the MBA is noticeably slower — but it has never been an irritating issue. So this is plenty fast enough.
  5. And the reason, when I previously traded up, I chose the 17″ MBP model was to have enough “real estate” to have a TeXShop editing window and the PDF output side-by-side and comfortably readable. Obviously, I’m now looking at 1280 x 800 pixels, rather than 1680 x 1050 (so that’s just 58% as much). But this is manageable, and the screen quality is really terrific. Of course it is nicer e.g. for extended on-screen reading to plug in an external monitor as well. But that’s a luxury, not any sort of necessity.
  6. What about the paucity of ports, mentioned critically by all the reviewers, or the absence of an onboard CD drive? With one caveat, I’ve found those features no problem at all. Just not been an issue for me since day one. (So the one caveat indeed concerns day one. Since there is no firewire port, you can’t migrate files from your old computer to your new MBA using the usual firewire connection. And using a wireless connection to migrate is both painfully slow and seems flaky. Is that a problem? I didn’t find really it so. I installed the necessary additional software, like the LaTeX installation, over the web, and then copied my documents folder and other bits and pieces from a SuperDuper! clone of the old hard disk on an external drive. Quick to do, and resulting in a clean and tidy MBA.)
  7. So that’s all very, very positive. Are there any negatives? The flat keyboard is surprisingly nice to use (much better than I imagined it would be). But, unlike the almost silent similarly flat new iMac keyboards, this is a bit noisier (a bit more so than the MBP keyboard). But that’s a very marginal disappointment.
  8. I thought, when I bought the MBA a month ago, I’d be using it very much as a second machine, carrying on using the 17″ MPB (and external monitor) as a main, quasi-desktop, set-up. In fact I find myself increasingly heavily favouring the MBA. I’ve hardly used the MPB.
  9. So, assuming a three year life cycle (and it seems very well built so should last longer with a battery refresh after a while), the MBA after education discount costs much less than half a pint of beer a day. Or one modestly decent bottle of Chianti Classico a fortnight if you prefer. Put like that, how can you resist?
  10. And then, of course, there is the “Wow!”-factor …

Parsons’s Mathematical Thought: Secs 24-26, Intuition

Saturday, August 23rd, 2008

Chapter 5 of Parsons’s book is called “Intuition”. And I guess I should declare an interest (or rather, lack of interest!) here. I’ve never really understood talk about intuition: and I’m certainly not helped when Parsons writes “I shall be concerned to develop a conception of mathematical intuition that is in a general way Kantian”, since Kant is pretty much a closed book to me. So perhaps I’m not the best reader for this chapter! But still, let’s proceed …

Sec. 24, “Intuition: Basic distinctions”. Parsons distinguishes supposed intuition of objects from intuition that such-and-such is the case. And he stresses that in his usage, intuition that isn’t factive. So is an intuition that such-and-such just a non-inferential belief? Well note, for example, that “knowledge without observation” of our own bodily movements is non-inferential, but is not normally counted as intuitive. So what differentiates intuition properly so-called? Parsons promises an answer by a “development of the concept … in the Kantian tradition”.

Sec. 25, “Intuition and perception”. Now, the headline suggestion here is that “It is hard to see what could make a cognitive relation to objects [intuition of] count as intuition if not some analogy with perception” (cf. e.g. Gödel). Further, intuition that is intimately connected with intuition of, rather as perception that is grounded in perception of. Well, fair enough: but that, of course, already does make claims about intuitions of mathematical objects very puzzling. Which leads to …

Sec. 26, “Objections to the very idea of mathematical intuition”. Start with the following point. Ordinary perception is (so to speak) evident to the subject — when I see an object, my computer screen say, “there is a phenomenological datum here”. But “it is hard to maintain that the case is the same for mathematical objects … [Are] there any experiences we can appeal to in the mathematical cases that are anywhere near as indisputed as my present experience of seeing the computer screen?” This seems to undermine any alleged analogy between “intuition of mathematical entities” and ordinary perception. So how are we to defend the analogy, given the different phenomenologies? Unfortunately, Parsons next remarks here are Kantian obscurities I can do nothing with. So I’m left stumped.

(Parsons also raises a question about the relation between structuralist thoughts and claims about intuition. The worry seems to be one about how a particular intuition can latch on to a particular object, if mathematical objects are indentified by their places in structures. The point, however, is rather rushed. But since I think Parsons is going to return to these matters, I won’t say more at the moment.)

Shoesmith and Smiley to be reprinted

Thursday, August 21st, 2008

It is announced on the CUP website that Shoesmith and Smiley’s Multiple-Conclusion Logic is to be reprinted early next year. That’s terrific news.

Parsons’s Mathematical Thought: Secs 19-23, A problem about sets

Thursday, August 21st, 2008

These sections make up the short Chapter 4 of Parsons’s book (they are a slightly expanded version of a 1995 paper in a festschrifft for Ruth Barcan Marcus). The issue is whether there are special problems giving a broadly structuralist account of set theory. Since the last section of Chapter 3 left me puzzled about what, exactly, Parsons counted as a structuralist view, I’m not entirely sure I have the problem in sharp focus. But I’ll try to comment all the same.

It’s perhaps clear enough what the problem is for the eliminative structuralist (whether or not he modalizes). His idea is that an ordinary mathematical claim A is to be read as disguising a quantified claim of the form for all …., if Ω(…) then A*(…), where Ω is an appropriate set of axioms for the relevant mathematical domain, A* is a suitable formal rendering of A, and where the quantification is over kosher non-mathematical whatnots, and perhaps possible world indices too. This account escapes making A vacuously true only if Ω is satisfied somewhere (at some index). Now if Ω is suitably modest — axioms for arithmetic say — we might conceive of it being satisfied by some physical realization at this (or at least, at some not-too-remote) world. I’m not sure this is right because of issues about theories Ω with full second-order quantification (which Parsons himself touches on); but let that pass. For certainly, if Ω is a rich set theory, then it cetainly doesn’t seem so plausible to say that the relevant structure is realized somewhere. Unless, that is, we allow into our possible worlds abstracta to do the job — in which case the point of the eliminative structuralist manoeuvre is undermined. (The structuralist could just bite the bullet of course, as I remarked before, and say so much the worse for set theory. After all, what’s so great about something like ZFC? — we certainly don’t need it anything as exotic to construct applicable mathematics.)

But suppose we do want to endorse ZFC, and remain broadly structuralist. Even if we eschew eliminativist ambitions, presumably the idea will be at least that there isn’t a given unique universe of determinately identified objects, the sets, which set theory aims to describe. And on the face of it, this runs against the motivating stories told at the beginning of typical set theory texts, which do (it seems) purport to describe a unique universe of sets. For example, in the case of pure set theory without urelemente, take the empty set (isn’t that determinately unique?); now form its singleton; now form the sets whose members are what we have already; now do that again at the next level; keep on going … Thus iterative story is a familiar one, and seems (or so the authors of many texts apparently suppose) to fix a unique universe.

The main burden of Parsons’s discussion is to argue that familiar story isn’t in as good order as we might like to think. For a start, the metaphors of “forming” and “levels” don’t bear the weight that is put on them: “when we come to [a set] of sufficiently high rank, it is difficult to take seriously the idea that all the intermediate sets that arise in the construction of this set … can be formed by us”. And then there are problems wrapped up in the temporal metaphor of “keeping on going”, when the relevant ordinal structure we are supposed to grasp is much richer than that of time. Further, it is aguable that additional thoughts, over and above the basic conception of an iterative hierarchy, are needed to underpin all the axioms of ZFC — that’s arguably the case for replacement, and possibly even for the full powerset axiom.

I’m not going to try to assess Parsons’s arguments here. The idea that the iterative story is problematic and doesn’t get us everything we want is by now a familiar one; there are interesting and important discussions by George Boolos, Alex Paseau, Michael Potter and others, and I don’t have anything to add. But let’s suppose he is right. What then? Parsons writes that his “discussion of the arguments that are actually in the literature should make plausible that there is not a set of persuasive, direct and “intuitive” considerations in favour of the axioms of ZF that are incompatible with a structuralist conception of what talk of sets is.” But that seems too sanguine. For it isn’t that there are multiple lines of thought in the literature which, each taken separately, give us a conception of some structure that satisfies the ZF axioms (first or second order), indicating — perhaps — the kind of multiple realizability that is grist to the structuralist argument. No, the worry is that no familiar line of thought (e.g. the iterative conception, the idea of “limitation of size”, not to mention the ideas shaping NF) warrants all the axioms. So it isn’t, after all, clear we have an intuitive grasp of any structure that satisfies the axioms. Hence, the worry continues, for all we know maybe there is no structure that satisfies them. Which seems to take us back to vacuity worries for structuralism.

Parsons’s Mathematical Thought: Sec. 18, A noneliminative structuralism

Wednesday, August 20th, 2008

The previous two sections critically discussed a modal version of eliminative structuralism (though to my mind, the objections raised weren’t particularly telling). Parsons now moves on characterize his own preferred “noneliminative structuralism”, and responds to some potential obections.

I wish I could give a sharp characterization of the position Parsons wants to occupy here in the longest section of his book. But I do have to confess bafflement. “We have emphasized the point going back to Bernays that reference to mathematical objects is relative to a background structure.” Further, structures aren’t themselves objects, and “[Parsons's] structuralist account of a particular kind of mathematical object does not view statements about that kind of object as about structures at all”. But surely there’s thus far nothing that e.g. the Fregean need dissent from. The Fregean can agree that numbers, for example, don’t come (so to speak) independently, but come all together forming an intrinsically order structured: and in identifying the number 42 as such, we necessarily give its position in relation to other numbers. So what more is Parsons saying about (say) numbers that distinguishes his position? Well, I’ve read the section three times and I’m still rather lost, and won’t ramble here. If any other reader of the book can offer some crisp clarifying comments, I for one would be very grateful!