I had been warned before coming to China that real coffee was hard to find, and quite expensive. Those who know me and my caffeine dependency might have wondered how I would survive.
I arrived here in Shenzhen with a pound of espresso-ground coffee from Starbucks in Santa Barbara and an Aerobie Aeropress. Unfortunately I left the measuring scoop behind, so I had to wait until breakfast this morning, when I was able to grab a few (disposable) soup spoons. Finally, before settling down to work back in the hotel this afternoon, I made the first cup of coffee that I’ve had since I arrived here.
The Aeropress works beautifully. I had calibrated the kettle, so that I knew how long it would take to get close to the magic 175°F. (They recommend “three-quarters of the time to bring to the boil”.) I think I used a bit less coffee than I should have (what’s “two scoops” in Chinese soup-spoons?), but I followed the directions exactly, and the result was excellent: smooth, great flavour, no bitterness, good colour, perfect crema. The trick is in keeping the pressure gentle, and not rushing it. And clean-up is trivial.
Highly recommended. With any luck, my blood-caffeine level should now be inching towards the “operating” range….
Author: geoff
Values, science, and contingency
I’ve been commenting on a thread over at Thinking Christian about Sean Carroll’s Discovery piece on why science and religion are incompatible. It’s an odd kind of discussion: the resident Christians excoriate Carroll, and in the same breath they assert that Christianity is always, authoritatively correct, which seems to rule out science as a way of answering questions. Anyway, I made a few comments about values being contingent, like language, rather than extra-human absolute truths, and a bunch of people piled on. I wrote:
On values: try substituting, mutatis mutandis the word “language†for “valuesâ€. Then your paragraph reads in part:
That we speak a certain language is (let us say) a physical state within the brain. Science can then look into its genesis and perhaps tell a plausible story about how it came to be. But the languages themselves are not physical states
But the last sentence doesn’t follow. In fact, languages are precisely physical states: patterns of utterance and interpretation replicated (with variations) in millions of brains, and transferred from brains to brains by socialization and education. Some have speculated that there are a set of “hardware†mechanisms which facilitate (and, presumably, constrain this process, but that’s relatively unimportant.
Nobody argues about which the “correct language†is. (Well, no sane persons.) We can’t say whether French or English is more correct. We can debate the origins of each, and the relative effectiveness of each in expressing certain things. And we would certainly note the existence of deep commonalities between different languages.
Well, values are languages. They are languages that we use to talk about patterns of behaviour that we collectively approve or disapprove of. Like language, values are contingent, in space and time. Just as it would be difficult to speak with an Elizabethan Englishman, because of the evolution of language, it would be difficult to communicate about values with an Elizabethan Christian, for who slavery, burning heretics at the stake, and treating schizophrenia with exorcism were perfectly Christian values.
Your values are patterns in your brain which influence your response to certain stimuli. Nothing magical, supernatural, or un-scientific about them. Values are not extra-human things that tell us the way things ought to be: they are linguistic expressions that we use to tell each other how we imagine things ought to be.
Most of the comments were silly, but there was one by Franklin Mason that I responded to at some length. After I’d written it, I decided that I liked it so much that I would replay it over here:
So, I take it that you think it impossible for anyone to be incorrect in the values they hold.
Incorrect according to whom? Flip back to the language analogy, and remember “My Fair Ladyâ€. To be an accepted member of a social group is, in part, to use the language of that group. In school children learn what is, and is not, “correct†spelling, grammar, and usage. Same with values.
Second point: science itself is a value-driven endeavor. It values truth above all else. Moreover, in the construction of scientific theory, you’ll find many values called open: value is placed in simplicity, explanatory power, predictive power, etc.
Yup. Science is a human endeavor, and as such we use the language of values to express many aspects of it.
Lots of value is non-moral in nature. The values I’ve described above are epistemological in nature, but they are values nonetheless; and like all values, they don’t simply describe how things have gone, rather they describe how things ought to go.
Let’s correct your drift here. We use the language of values to describe how we think things ought to go. Values (and language) are not free-floating absolutes; they are aspects of human thought and communication.
Thus, if all value is contingent and culture-relative (as you seem to wish to say), so too is science. On your view, science, just like morality, would come to be one of a plethora of ways in which one might come to the world, with no objective reason to prefer one over the other.
You know, people seem to think that as soon as something is described as “contingentâ€, all bets are off: that it could be not just different, but anything at all. But “contingent†means “dependentâ€, and things like language and culture – and science – are strongly constrained by the facts that they depend on. Case in point: our eyes evolved to be sensitive to particular wavelengths of light and particular types of visual stimuli: they’re good at detecting vertically symmetrical patterns, not so good at horizontal or rotational patterns. There are good adaptive reasons for this (e.g. threat detection), but it’s not the only kind of vision, as a quick trawl through the evo-devo literature will explain. It’s contingent: it could have been different. We could have evolved as nocturnal creatures, in which case we might have large eyes like Tarsiers with increased sensitivity to infra-red.
Now the point about this is that while the form of our vision is contingent, it’s not random. We didn’t get to choose our vision. We could tweak it a bit (with glasses), but we couldn’t rewire it. (More on that carefully-chosen verb form later.) And the same is true of things like language and values – and science.
Our language and values are contingent on our biology. If we had evolved with enhanced infra-red vision, we would be able to directly sense many more physiological phenomena – we might be able to “see†certain kinds of emotions and pains. Our languages would reflect this. Or if, as nocturnal creatures, we had evolved an enhanced sense of smell, we might rely on olfactory evidence and prefer it over visual. Now think about all of the ways that vision, and metaphorical uses of “see†and “perceive†crop up in your language – and, yes, in your values. “Seeing is believingâ€. How about “smelling is believingâ€?
And of course you use the “objective†word, which suggests that you hold true to the obsolete dichotomy that everything is either objective or subjective: absolute, or personal. Sorry: those words don’t really mean very much. They are just another piece of the language of values: ways that we communicate about social preferences.I take it that most scientists reject this. The values that science exemplifies are quite objectively good, they would say; and if you disagreed, they’d think you were just flat wrong.
Scientists are human; scientists use human language to communicate about science; when that communication involves “how†and “whyâ€, scientists use those aspects of language which evolved to talk about such things, which is the language of values.
No scientist would say that there are no values. They would (mostly) say that they aren’t what you seem to think they are. Scientists have arrived at the “rules†and “values†of science because they work: they lead to repeatable results, and minimize the likelihood of fraud and deception (especially self-deception!).
I said earlier that I would comment on the “we couldn’t rewire our vision†thing. Well, of course we are now getting close to the point where we can, and things are going to get quite interesting. Will our values change as we change? They always have in the past.
We are, understandably, parochial creatures. We pay lots of attention to the time and space around us: the recent past (say, the last couple of thousand years, the next century), and the planet which we inhabit. These preferences are, of course, contingent: contingent on our physical size, our senses, our environment, our natural (i.e. evolved) life span, and historical factors like the invention of writing and social institutions. Humans had a long, rich history stretching over hundreds of thousands of years before writing emerged, but of course we have almost no record of their lives, their societies, their gods, and their values. From this point of view, the last two thousand years is just an historical blip. And if we take an even longer look, we’ll realize that this whole human thing is just a contingent blip; when the next cosmic collision wipes out 90% of life on the planet, as has happened many times in the past, what survives and flourishes isn’t going to be human. But that’s OK.
Dan Dennett in fine form
From Dan’s report on the “symposia on faith and religion” sponsored by The John Templeton Foundation as part of the Darwin bash at Cambridge University:
The second talk was by J. Wentzel van Huyssteen, a Professor of Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary, and it was an instance of  “theological anthropology,†full of earnest gobbledygook about embodied minds and larded with evolutionary tidbits drawn from Frans de Waal, Steven Mithen and others. In the discussion period I couldn’t stand it any more and challenged the speakers: “I’m Dan Dennett, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and we are forever being told that we should do our homework and consult with the best theologians. I’ve heard two of you talk now, and you keep saying this is an interdisciplinary effort—evolutionary theology—but I am still waiting to be told what theology has to contribute to the effort. You’ve clearly adjusted your theology considerably in the wake of Darwin, which I applaud, but what traffic, if any, goes in the other direction? Is there something I’m missing? What questions does theology ask or answer that aren’t already being dealt with by science or secular philosophy? What can you clarify for this interdisciplinary project?†(Words to that effect) Neither speaker had anything to offer, but van Huyssteen blathered on for a bit without, however, offering any instances of theological wisdom that every scientist interested in the Big Questions should have in his kit.
But I learned a new word: “kenotic†as in kenotic theology. It comes from the Greek word kenosis meaning ‘self-emptying.’ Honest to God. This new kenotic theology is all the rage in some quarters, one gathers, and it is “more deeply Christian for being more adapted to Darwinism.†(I’m not making this up.) I said that I was glad to learn this new word and had to say that I was tempted by the idea that kenotic theology indeed lived up to its name.
Entr'acte
The dictionary defines an entr’acte as “an interval between two acts of a play or opera.” For me, it’s a relatively quiet few hours half way through the turmoil of my first month at Huawei. I’m sitting here in a cheesy tourist motel in Santa Barbara, having concluded a two week whirlwind tour of technology partners up and down the west coast of the US. I squeezed in a couple of days at home for the Fourth of July, and I’ve been conducting phone screens and arranging interviews in connection with staffing up my new team. (I’ve actually got two more phone calls coming up over the next couple of hours, which is why “quiet” is relative.)
This morning my colleagues and I went down to the Santa Barbara waterfront and enjoyed the pelicans wheeling overhead as the sun rose over the mountains and burned off the sea haze. That was wonderful. And this evening I’m having dinner with an old friend of my mother’s, a professor at UC Santa Barbara. I’m looking forward to discussing non-work topics!
Tomorrow it all picks up again. I’ll be on a puddle-jumper up to SFO, then on a United 747-400 to Hong Kong, where I’ll arrive on Sunday evening. Then I’ll be spending a couple of weeks at the Huawei HQ in Shenzhen, meeting more people and teams than I will be able to remember, and hopefully extracting a coherent picture from the whole experience.
What have I learned so far? I think the Number One thing is simply this: think bigger. At Amazon we were used to thinking big: customers, transactions, catalog items, suppliers. But telco is bigger. The future is exponential: more bandwidth (Huawei is a leader in LTE), more handset capacity (cycles, pixels), more interactions (classic “network effect” phenomena like social networks, more things interacting with other things). It’s multiplicative. And think globally. At Amazon the “world” was defined by the handful of countries in which we did business, most of which are suffering economically. But telco is REALLY global, with all of the opportunities and challenges that this brings.
This is going to be exciting.
Twitter automation run amok
There’s a Twitterer that I follow called @denyreligion. Most of his tweets are quite interesting, but every night my Twitter client is inundated by a string of posts of the following form:
Thanks for the RTs and discussion! @XXX, @YYY, @ZZZ….
In other words, every Twitterer who mentioned @denyreligion during the day gets acknowledged. This gets pretty boring: Twitter isn’t (shouldn’t be) a popularity contest in which people score points for being mentioned. So I responded:
@denyreligion You need a different way of handling your gratitude. A page full of these “Thanks for the RTs” just makes me want to block you
And you can guess what happened, can’t you? Sure enough, the next night I receive:
Thanks for the RTs and discussion! @XXX @YYY @geoffarnold @ZZZ…
This is just plain silly.
Injustice and justice
From this afternoon’s MLS game between the Seattle Sounders and the Colorado Rapids:
- Injustice: giving a penalty for handball against a guy in the wall who was protecting his face from a hard-struck free kick.
- Justice: the penalty hits the woodwork.
It was an enjoyable game, which the Sounders won 3-0. The last 20 minutes were a bit flat, because the third goal knocked the fight out of Colorado. Freddie Ljungberg was the inspirational playmaker for Seattle, but the win was largely due to the collaboration between Nate Jaqua and Fredy Montero. Oh, and the attendance was a record, 32,526, beating the previous highest total by just 3. (Obviously our last-minute decision to attend was significant!)
I wanted to see at least one MLS game in Seattle, and now I have. I’ve also seen the Mariners playing baseball, but I never made it to a Seahawks game. (I don’t really enjoy American Football, anyway.) What can we look forward to in California? The Giants baseball park up in San Francisco is nice. In San Jose they have an MLS team, the Earthquakes, but they seem to be struggling rather badly. In any case, we will no longer be able to walk across the street to take in a game on a whim…
A busy month of travel
July is going to be a busy month for me. Between the 1st and 25th, I’m booked to fly nearly 18,000 miles. Here’s how the Great Circle Mapper lays it out:

That breaks down into a hop down to San Jose and back before the 4th of July; then a merry dance around California for a week before I fly to Hong Kong; then back to Seattle after a couple of weeks in Shenzhen. Not shown on the map is the fact that at the end of the month, I’ll be taking one more flight: SEA-SFO. But that’s a one-way deal; part of relocating down to Palo Alto.
Formula 1
I’ve been trying to decide whether I trust myself to comment on the current state of affairs in my favourite sport, but reading Only In America‘s amusing but information-free rant persuaded me to offer a few thoughts.
For those who haven’t been following things, here’s my analysis of the situation. First, the players:
- The FIA: the governing body of motor sport, with self-described non-Fascist Max Mosley in control.
- Formula One Management (FOM), the company that runs the business, wheels and deals with the teams, picks and discards circuits to race at, and generally does whatever Bernie Ecclestone’s Napoleon complex dictates.
- The teams: Ferrari, McLaren, Brawn, Williams, Red Bull and so forth. Most are members of FOTA, the Formula One Teams Association. Each builds its own car (nominally independently), and gets engines from one of the…
- Engineering power-houses: Mercedes, Renault, Toyota, BMW, Fiat. Some own teams; some supply engines to one or more teams; some do both.
- The drivers: the stars that we all know and love (or hate). Each is under contract to a team; playing games with supposedly binding contracts is a popular pastime.
- The circuits: the venues where the races are run. There are classics like Monza, Monaco and Silverstone, and new built-for-TV extravaganzas like Bahrein and Turkey.
- The fans. Though it might not be obvious, the vast majority of these live in Italy, Germany, France, England and Japan. (There are plenty of fans in the US, too, but Bernie doesn’t like dealing with American motorsports businessmen because they than play the game of divide-and-exploit even better than he can.)
Next, supply and demand. There is an oversupply of circuits, so Bernie can play them off against each other and dump anyone, like Silverstone, that doesn’t toe his line. There is an undersupply of money, which means that although there are more drivers and teams that want to take part, the wannabees can’t afford to join. This is because there’s an oversupply of technology, which has two causes. First, the engineering powerhouses want to leverage F1 for promotional purposes: their investments really come out of the advertising budget. Second, Mad Max and a few others are worried about the image of gas-guzzling racing cars at a time of high fuel prices and environmental sensibility, so they browbeat the engineers into building esoteric things like Kinetic Energy Recovery Systems.
(It would be nice to say that this was necessary to promote R&D that would benefit everyday cars; in fact the R&D has already been done and cars like the Toyota Prius use KERS everyday. It makes sense in commuter stop-and-go; not so much at 148MPH around Silverstone.)
The recent crisis was provoked by Mad Max declaring that he was going to change the rules to save money, with preferential rules for new teams so that they could participate on the cheap, and that all of the other teams had damn well better sign up immediately, even though the rules weren’t fully worked out. The idea that savvy commercial players like Toyota, Mercedes and BMW would sign up without even knowing what they were agreeing to is… well, delusional. And they didn’t. So yesterday FOTA called Max’s bluff and declared that they were going to participate in an alternative championship series next year. Of course this has provoked threats of lawsuits all round.
Speaking as one of the fans, which I have been since 1964, here’s my opinion. The fans care about three things:
- drivers
- teams
- circuits
That’s it. The fans appreciate the role that the engineering powerhouses play, and they are glad when the business is run well enough that they can attend races where possible and see the others on TV. But they love the drivers: the heros of today, like Button, Hamilton, and Vettel; the giants of the recent past, like Schumacher and Senna; and the legends like Moss, Clark, Fangio and the Hills (Phil and Graham). They follow the teams, like Ferrari, McLaren and Williams, with the family feeling that football supporters accord to the teams they support, and they remember the legendary teams of the past, like Lotus and Tyrrell. And they appreciate the importance of the circuits, because, like tennis fans, they understand that each circuit makes special demands on the skill of the driver and the engineering talent of the team. (This is, perhaps, why the rash of new circuits are so uninteresting: they all seem to test the same skills.)
Although Mad Max is the instigator of the latest and greatest stupidity, I actually blame Bernie more than Max. It has been Bernie who has treated Formula One as his personal plaything, cutting deals which pay little attention to the teams and none whatsoever to the fans. In a way, Max is reacting to the bloated state of Bernie’s cash machine. but he is responding by trying to out-Bernie Bernie, to be even more dictatorial than Napoleon.
I want Formula 1 to continue and succeed. Frankly the only group that seems to have a clue is FOTA, and thankfully the drivers seem to be supporting FOTA 100%.
One final thought, thinking about tomorrow’s British Grand Prix at Silverstone. Back in the day – specifically between 1964 and 1986 – the British Grand Prix alternated between Silverstone and Brands Hatch. I really liked that scheme: both circuits had their own distinctive features, and it seemed like the ideal compromise. I’d prefer that the race remained at Silverstone, but if Bernie really wants to include Donington perhaps we could alternate once again.
Larry disentangles naturalism and materialism
Larry Hamelin (the Barefoot Bum) just posted an important essay on two dichotomies which are frequently confused, identified, misidentified, conflated, linked, and generally misunderstood:
- Natural v. supernatural.
- Materialist v. non-materialist.
He begins:
There seems to be considerable confusion and equivocation about naturalism and supernaturalism. Naturalism is often confused with materialism, at the methodological and metaphysical level. At the methodological level, the equivocation takes the form that all natural scientific explanations must by definition invoke only forces and causes ascribed to the material world; at the metaphysical level, the equivocation is that naturalism entails an a priori commitment that nothing but the material world exists. Both of these notions are confused, and there is a much better, more precise way of distinguishing naturalism from materialism.
The reason that this is important is because conflation and confusion on these matters lies at the heart of the debate between science and religion. Larry again:
The primary controversy between science and religion is not about what conclusions we draw about the world, it is between how we draw conclusions about the world. The controversy is not primarily ontological, it is an epistemic controversy.
[…]
The religious try to shift the issue to an ontological basis to disguise the sad truth that they do not have an alternative epistemological method to talk about a particular ontological domain; the religious have no epistemological method whatsoever.
To counter this obfuscation, I suggest we always keep the distinction clear between natural and supernatural epistemology and materialist and non-materialist ontology, and make it clear that a materialist ontology is the result, not an a priori commitment, of natural scientific epistemology.
(My emphasis.)
Choosing a car…
Readers of my twitterings will know that I’ve been trying to decide what kind of car to get when I move to California at the end of next month. I want to get all of my planning done in plenty of time, because I expect to be travelling in China right up to the time of the move. So I’ve been reading Edmunds, Consumer Reports, and Cars.com, prowling the dealers, and test-driving various cars. And of course my many net-buddies have been chiming in with recommendations.
My original plan was to go for a recent (possibly new) Prius, but a number of alternatives presented themselves. The new Honda Insight looked cool, the Mini Cooper S would be fun, and then I saw my first Hyundai Genesis Coupe, which looks like an amazing value.
We rented a Prius through Zipcar. Very nice, better handling than I expected.
I sat in a Honda Insight. I didn’t bother to drive it, because it was immediately apparent that there wasn’t enough legroom for driver or passenger.
I went to a Mini dealer intending to take a test drive, but the salesmen seemed indifferent. Screw ’em – I decided to use Zipcar again. This morning we reserved a Mini for a couple of hours. Sadly, the verdict was negative: uncomfortable seats, noisy cabin, and a choppy ride at highway speeds. (Bad pavement was OK: the oscillation emerged at 60+MPH.)
So right now the Prius is looking like the best choice, but I still have several weeks before business travel and relocation kick in. Stay tuned…