October 2006 Archives
I just become totally convinced in the necessity of compulsory voting in the US. It is a fantastic idea.
I have recently realized that a serious flaw of school is that a student is consistently told what problems to solve. This is particularly true in the social science and humanities. Usually good problems in the sciences are extremely difficult to answer or have already been answered, so guidance is necessary. On the other hand, the humanities and social sciences are so rife with problems and questions that it is difficult to think about anything without asking tons of them. However, the student is always ushered into a particular box with an essay prompt or topic. It stifles creativity and reduces the quality of work. I have lots of interesting questions to ask, but they usually aren't the ones that teachers want me to answer, or I don't want to answer them in the same way my teachers want. There are some advantages to having prepackaged questions in these disciplines, but I'm not sure that the net result is positive.
Alan Ruffini, a resident of our house, arrived in Chicago about one month before Orientation Week began. He stayed with his brother who works as an actuary in the city. One night, he was watching a public access channel late into the night, and came upon the show of a certain bible teacher. The show conveniently advertised free sample videos of the teacher's work, so naturally, Alan called the man talked for about a half hour. Weeks later, he received approximately 6 hours of glorious, priceless, astounding footage.
"Dennis Hodges, Bible Teacher," as the video flashes on the screen every twenty seconds, is a man with a deft command of rhetoric... but not just any rhetoric. We've all heard the stereotypical fire and brimstone sermon, but Mr. Hodges takes all of this to a profoundly new level. Indeed, he seems to apply the tone and anger of a drill sergent to his "lessons," often emphasizing seemingly incoherent phrases like "separated from, separated to!!!!" by screaming, pounding objects, and jumping. Forget the fact that "to" seems to be an improper preposition to attach to the participle "separated." It means something now.
As with all respected religious figures in this era, Mr. Hodges does not just limit his exposition to religion. Politics, race, and even economics are exposed to his analytical lense. Although, to be frank, his "lense" is more like a magnifying glass positioned strategically over an ant on a hot summer day. Despite the fact that he African American, his first target was the entire African American population. I won't repeat what he said, although he did scream that Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, et al. did "nothing" for him. Anyone economically successful took quite a beating as well. Even Harvard University was relegated to the trash heap for allegedly "starting World War I."
You can probably guess that Mr. Hodges has quickly become the staple of our entertainment on homework-free nights. We still have two more hours of footage to watch. People were dreading the day when we would run out of Hodges' video to amuse ourselves. That is, we were dreading it until we realized that Hodges' very own congregation "Narrow Hodos" is located just south of Hyde Park, on 79th Street. Although a fourth-year politely pointed out that we might die if we go to 79th Street, it is our mission. Several people have called and talked to the man himself, and he seemed very receptive to having university students at his congregation. So, considering that risk-aversion typically reaches a lifelong low between the ages of 16 and 20, and considering the astronomical returns from witnessing this man in reality, the expected value of utility from going to the Narrow Hodos is overwhelming positive. I wish I had a witness.
Correction: The name is Rodges, not Hodges. It was late and I was consequently incoherent.
An interdisciplinary group of researchers from the Center for Integrative Science, the Enrico Fermi Institute, and the Committee on Social Thought at the University of Chicago have announced preliminary results indicating that, contrary to popular belief, it is healthy to have fun as an undergraduate. The researchers' work will be published in the forthcoming issue of the journal Nature.
Led by Li Fong Huang, professor of physics in the college and the Enrico Fermi Institute, the announcement cautioned that the research is only prelimary. Says Huang, "A breakthrough of this kind should be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism, although I believe our work to be accurate and authoritative. This literally overturns a century of conventional wisdom about the role of fun in the undergraduate experience and, more generally, in the developmental role of humans."
The findings complete years of careful psychological theorizing, data analysis, and fieldwork conducted by select fraternity members and resident masters of dormitories. The researchers were commonly seen at parties asking detailed questions about alcohol consumption, sexual activity, homework, and personal satisfaction. Due to the scarcity of conventional parties on the university's campus, the most prolific data comes from students in mathematics study-groups, and especially undergraduates in Honors Analysis. The forthcoming paper points out that students in the highest group of alcohol consumption (1 or more drinks per quarter) not only reported being significantly happier than all other groups, but healthier too. The students in the lowest fun bracket often reported ranting about physics while sleeping, physical atrophy, and vitamin D deficiency. Huang says, "Our field work in among mathematics undergraduates was particularly dangerous. Some of our researchers were repeatedly threatened and harassed when surveying mathematics classes and students."
Although Paul Sally, the director of undergraduate mathematics, refused to comment on the allegations of abuse, he has been one of the foremost critics of the findings. "They don't know a damn thing about fun. They can't even prove that fun is well-defined!" he declared to your correspondent. The economics department has also spoken out strongly against the work. A Nobel laureate who spoke on condition of anonymity pointed out, "Given the fact of rational expectations, it is simply inconceivable that there could be any incentive for an individual, particularly at the undergraduate level, to seek fun. As a corollary, it is impossible for such fun to be healthy. No amount of empirical evidence can overturn such a firm theoretical observation."
While the research has been a lightning rod for extensive day-long debates on the quads, others have taken a more neutral view. Ted O'Neill, dean of college admissions, did not criticize the validity of the research, when questioned. Instead, he expressed his sincere hope that the work was incorrect. "The glory of this glorious institution has always resided in its fundamental rejection of the intellectual and physical benefits of fun. Furthermore, such a shift in accepted thought would undoubtedly lead the university to financial ruin. The college could become fun, bloating the applicant pool, and requiring the admissions office to hire an unsustainably large faculty." The Board of Trustees could not be reached for comment on this claim.
Although the research has been hailed by other elite institutions of higher learning as decisive in our understanding of education, various officials at Ivy League schools have expressed surprise that the work has generated such controversy on the Chicago campus. Such officials have commented that their institutions have always considered fun to be an important element of education--if not the most important element.
Meanwhile, large student protests against the findings continue to block Ellis Avenue to traffic between 59th and 56th Avenues. Protesters criticize Huang and his collegues for being disturbingly imprecise in their methodology and for failing to establish clear causal linkages. In spite of the overwhelmingly negative response from the undergraduate population, it is still unclear what the work will mean for the College at the University of Chicago, where fun has come to die since 1892.
Although it was created by students from that other (inferior) school, in the suburbs, where sororities are more important than mathematics... myself and some others in our house had quite a laugh over this song:
There once was a day when I entertained a notion that philosophy and the humanities were interesting and fulfilling fields. Yet, as each day goes by, I begin to doubt the validity of all non-quantitative/mathematical academic disciplines. Consider Aristophanes' exceptional parody of Socrates and the sophists, entitled Clouds. When Strepsiades walks into the house of Socrates, he sees Socrates hanging from a basket, along with his students who have all assumed strange positions for pondering. Although Strepsiades is too shallow to learn from Socrates, his son Pheidippedes studies with the sage, and uses his new rhetorical skill to "argue away" Strepsiades' creditors, among other absurdities. While I disagree with Aristophanes' primary point about morality and reason, the fact remains that this sort of verbal logic is not well suited for truth-seeking activities.
I don't mean to discard verbal argumentation altogether; it certainly has a purpose. It can express many ideas that are impossible to express otherwise. After all, by presently using a verbal form of argumentation, I am equivocating, I suppose.
The principle problem is that verbal arguments are very malleable and have differing strength depending on their presentation. Thus, it is difficult to segregate the validity of an argument from its presentation. I suspect that this is why these humanities people will argue incessantly about all issues, while empiricists and the mathematically inclined usually can agree on truth much more easily (contingent on certain axioms).
This is not to say that the humanities and some social sciences don't gain anything by arguing. After all, arguing can be extremely fun. The problem is that it's simply not a very efficient means of arriving at truth. Indeed, many of the humanities seem to disregard the very notion of truth-seeking behavior. In the study of literature, for example, the game is to advance and substantiate often-irrelevant interpretations of implied meaning. Other than being potentially fun and interesting, this is simply a mental exercise. By "truth," I am not referring to some nebulous absolute either. I simply refer to what we know to be true given certain assumptions (e.g. mathematical axioms, or the assumptions of empiricism).
I've caught myself in a trap, though. Why are truth-seeking academics any better than opinion-endorsing ones? That is my weltanschauung. It is fundamentally indefensible. Nevertheless, I will present a couple suggestive examples. First, there is a reason why physics is entirely based in mathematics. There is also a reason why "physics-envy" has infected so many disciplines (all the hard sciences, lots of social science, economics...). Lastly, there is a reason why very, very few disciplines have recently emulated the approach of inquiry taken in a field like philosophy.
... QED...?
"Confusion, as an intellectual tradition, 87"
--Words painted on the wall of the stairs to Harper Library
We had our first snowfall this morning from about 9:15 to 10:00 AM. It snowed about a centimeter. It should be an interesting winter.
"Analysis leads to paralysis."
--Woowon Kang, professor of physics, paraphrasing why he did not enjoy math as an undergraduate, repeated several times.
"...and so particle-antiparticle annihilation is a perfectly efficient way of creating energy. If you could figure out a way to do this practically, it would be great: we wouldn't have to worry about global warming, we wouldn't have to worry about Arabs. We would have clean energy and the Arabs would just go back to fighting each other."
--Woowon Kang, professor of physics.
That it is so easy to become completely absorbed in studying and forget the rest of the world is one of the great profundities of college. I essentially spend all of my time studying. Even when I have nothing to do, I end up studying. Occasionally I go to math club meetings where... we study, albeit at a blackboard--the mathematician's surrogate for socializing. I have hardly read any news in a week or two. One of my neighbors is concerned that his mathematics classes are verging on obsession. In this context, I have an observation... about something I was studying.
Way back in high school, we read Beowulf. It is a fine monster story, with a compelling plot and some worthwhile insights on honor and the relation of the individual to society. Now, in humanities we read The Iliad. Again we have a fine story, but from the surface it is radically better than Beowulf. I would argue that it is a better and grander work, but that's a meaningless insight. The interesting point is that the themes and social values displayed in both works share stunning similarities.
Most significantly, honor is one of the central focuses of both. Defining "honor" is treacherous ground, but what I will suggest is that it possesses a moral quality. Acting "honorable" is perceived as good, while "dishonor" is bad. Society respects the honorable person, and especially respects his/her actions. So, I propose that honor is somewhat comparable to modern ideas of morals and ethics. Since these stories were written thousands of years ago, it seems that the problem of ethics has been of central concern to humans for all of our cognizant history. I would go even further to say that this is humanity's greatest problem: determining what is a desirable action.
On that note, humanity has truly changed its conception of ethics dramatically, even if the subject is our fundamental problem. The human of 1500-3000 years ago in Europe valued greatly the ability to slaughter other human beings. In both Beowulf and The Iliad a person's honor is most decided by how well they fare in battle, among other more complex factors. But simply put, we see that Hector is shamed by trying to escape a fateful battle with Achilles, and Achilles savagely mutilates him (ties into fate a lot too)--brilliant Achilles! Beowulf is worshipped because he can rip off the arms of bloodthirsty monsters, and is only fully honored after he faces the monster face-on without the advantage of surprise.
While my professor would deplore this kind of "social anthropology," as he calls it, it raises an interesting question. As a society, humans show considerable evolution since then. True, we have more advanced technology, letting a smaller minority cause more damage. However, the prevailing values of society are radically opposed to this kind of savagery. There is a certain natural selection in social values at work, I think. Where the "man-killer" of antiquity would be esteemed and feared, we hate and punish people who kill. Even members of the military--our modern "warriors"--are not accepted as representing universal values. There are many pacifists who typically deplore military combat, and even some people more radical, who would hold soldiers' actions against them. The point is, even though society may be more violent than ever, values have exhibited a distinctive pattern of natural selection. It's unreasonable to say that biological natural selection has occurred, but there is some sort of similar mechanism acting on society both consciously and unconsciously.
While I don't particularly enjoy reading mythology, it does raise some interesting questions about people that tend to be more fundamental than modern novels. I think that it's because they don't try as hard to force ideas through the text. It's a strange distinction.
I become characteristically rambly--probably because it is far too late for me to be up. And why am I up so late? Since I didn't have any studying to do, I wasted the entire evening studying. And then I wrote this garbage.
"Chicago? Well, the weather there is pretty bad..."
--A common statement by people from other parts of the country
The storm is finally over, but it certainly left its mark on campus. There are still lakes in the Midway, and walking to class yesterday, I noticed at least three trees that were completely uprooted. These are not just any normal trees. These are enormous 80+ year-old monstrosities that simply fell over in the wind and lightning. The power is back on everywhere, but there are still piles of branches and debris scattered about. See the following link for pictures:
I have number of very good friends from my Wilson days who are in the midst of the college application process. They are all curious, of course, to hear about my experiences and exploits at Chicago. Likewise, I enjoy hearing about how they are doing and what their plans are for next year. This all sounds very normal and good, but for one qualification: each additional friend I talk to seems to state that the University of Chicago is at or near the top of their list. And it's not the run-of-the-mill academic chaff either--these are the some of the smartest people I know. Both Ari Allyn-Feuer (my science bowl teammate--extremely brilliant and academically advanced) and Leeor Schweitzer have both told me that this place is their first choice. I just learned that Abraham Neben is applying early action and seriously considering Chicago, and the university is high on the list of Joseph Kibe--provided he isn't admitted to Princeton (considering that everyone from Wilson was either wait-listed or admitted there in my year, he has a very solid shot). I'll be very curious to see how the year unfolds.
When I do homework that has something to do with the humanities, I generally prefer to not work in my room since there are far too many distractions. I never really achieve the same sort of meditative concentration that I do when I work on math or science. Today, I had some reading and a short paper to write on The Iliad, so I was working in one of the lounges. Throughout the evening, thunderstorms built up more and more until the dim room was illuminated with steady flashes of lightning. When I finished my reading, I felt like a change in scenery, so I packed up and moved across the Midway to the Harper library.
In terms of being a library, Harper is a very insignificant piece of the university's system. In terms of being a building, however, it is a spectacular monument that consists of a gigantic Gothic room with two enormous chadeliers, suspended from ceilings that must be 40-50 feet high, and little stone crests and gargoyles everywhere. As I marched across the Midway, the rain hadn't started yet, but the strong gusts of warm wind and chaotic thunder and lightning brooded around me.
When I arrived, I think I was one of three people in the entire library, not surprising for that hour I suppose. While I planned and started to write my paper, the lightning increased, and the spectacular claps of thunder echoed throughout the monolithic chamber. Then the rains came down furiously, seeping in through the little window panes and dribbling down the stone walls. Half of lights went out. It was a truly awesome sight to behold.
Eventually, that unpleasant procrastinating impulse consumed me, I put my computer and books in my bag, went downstairs and walked outside into somewhat of a total downpour. In the quads, trees had collapsed, and limbs and leaves were strewn about the ground. The Midway, whose central fields drop down and are set about 5 feet lower than the adjacent streets, was a series of expansive lakes. Nevertheless, after negotiating some impressive puddles in the courtyard, I escaped the rain and plopped cozily into my room to write a bit more.
Just acquiring the second Apple notebook that I've owned, I once again noticed a dead pixel on the LCD just three days after my purchase. Apple has this obnoxious (but understandable) and vague policy on dead pixels, where they consider an LCD with some dead pixels to be perfectly within new specifications, yet they evaluate each problem on a "case by case" basis. So essentially their entire policy is one gigantic smokescreen. Their clear preference is to say nothing about dead pixels in the hope that most of their users will never notice them or even know what they are, while they can conceded to excessively obnoxious people like me and give us replacements. Anyway, I'm sitting in the Apple store on North Michigan Avenue preparing for a serious argument with the "Genius Bar."
