Archive for the ‘philosophy’ Category

there is no random – only zuul!

Friday, May 1st, 2009

The curve described by a simple molecule of air or vapor is regulated in a manner just as certain as the planetary orbits; the only difference between them is that which comes from our ignorance.

Probability is relative, in part to this ignorance, in part to our knowledge.

-Pierre Simon de Laplace, in A Philosophical Essay on Probabilities

I’ve always been fascinated by the question of determinism. Is everything about the future already contained in the state of the world today?

Addressing this question, one has to come to terms with what it could mean for the world to be non-deterministic. Intuitively, it means that certain events are non-predictable – we can think of them as random. And here is where we have to confront the fact that any useful model of the world, even a probabilistic one, has to be formally deterministic.

Why? Because, in math, there is no random. When a mathematician or statistician studies random behavior, they consider functions whose input is thought of as random. And by thinking of an input as random, the intuition and practical applications follow.

For example, suppose you ask what the standard deviation is for the random process of choosing the number 5 a third of the time, and the number 17 the rest of the time. You can model this with a function f:[0,1]->{5,17} which maps [0,1/3) to 5 and [1/3,1] to 17. From here you can study the random behavior of this experiment to your heart’s content. The point is that the function f is completely deterministic, and there is nothing here to give us a single example of an actually random number.

So when it comes to a probabilistic model of the universe, we would still have to use a deterministic function. To include the idea of randomness, we could add an extra input, which we think of as unknown or external to the world. For a moment, pretend that the world moves forward in discrete time units. Let x be the state of the world, y an unknown input, and the formula

x’ = f(x,y)

gives the state of the world a moment later. The presence of y is the non-determinism.

The thing that’s easy to forget is that probability theory does not dictate the way the world will behave. Rather, it is nothing more than a way to do something with a balance of partial knowledge, and an awareness of our own ignorance.

Here’s a quick thought experiment to help illustrate the difference:

Choose a number between 1 and 1000. I’ll also choose a number in the same range. What’s the probability that they’re the same?

It’s a trick question. They either are the same, or they’re not. Of course, if you assume that we’re both equally likely to choose any of the 1000 numbers, then you can say the odds are 1 in 1000. But the point is that this model is entirely in your mind. Since it’s a one-off experiment, and we don’t really even know that these numbers are chosen in any manner we could call random, there’s no real basis for that probability model. Maybe I always choose 7 and you always choose 23, and the numbers were bound to be mismatched from the start. The point is that, while probability is incredibly useful, it is wise to keep in mind – as Laplace did – that it is a mitigation of the unknown.

One last thought experiment toward comprehending what a probabilistic model might mean:

Some physicists play with the idea of parallel universes, so let’s do something like that. Suppose I toss a coin (heads/tails = H/T) several times in a row, and write down the outcomes in order. If each outcome is random, then we can model that in at least two different ways. One way is to assume that there is an external source of randomness, and that every result pulls in information from that random source – this would be analogous to the extra input to the function f(x,y) as above. Another way is to assume that every time a choice is to be made, the universe forks into two parallel versions: one in which the coin lands H, and another where it lands T. There is never a decision to be made, so no extra information is needed. Which model is better? Is there a way to choose between these two models, if we were in that world?

Mathematically, there is no difference; perhaps we may perceive the ideas as different, but the resulting formal theories would be identical. Why? Try this out: write down every H/T possibility for any number of coin tosses. For 3 tosses, you would get HHH, HHT, HTH, HTT, THH, THT, TTH, TTT. Most of those outcomes look random. In fact, you wouldn’t be amazed at any of them. Do the same thing for 50 tosses in a row. 50 heads in a row would be surprising, but the number of outcomes besides that surprising one is orders of magnitudes larger than the total number of humans who have ever lived so far.

In other words, no matter what, most of the outcomes will look random. In fact, they have to, by any reasonable definition of looking random. This is simply because a probability is nothing more than the number of outcomes including a certain event divided by the total number of outcomes (implicitly assuming they are equally likely). So any very likely event, such as there being about as many tails as heads, will by definition include most of the H/T sequences you write down.

A random model looks the same as a parallel model.

So when I say there is no random (only zuul), what I really mean is: probability theory and all that we posit about randomness is just the study of deterministic functions where you really don’t know the input, but you pretend to know it’s distribution.

Questions we can’t answer

Sunday, July 15th, 2007

What was Zeus’s favorite color?

When I was a kid, learning a million new things every day from my parents and teachers, I felt as if the realm of knowledge was boundless, and that every question I could muster could be answered, if only I asked the right person, or maybe thought hard enough for long enough. As I grew up, I began to see that many questions have no known answers, and that by the end of my life I could hope to know at most a tiny fraction of what was to be known. The next step is to see that many questions will simply never be answered, no matter how long or how hard we may try.

I would like to suggest here that, essentially, these questions do not matter, so we shouldn’t feel bad about this limitation.

To clarify the discussion, let’s define our terms. I want to consider objective questions about the state of the world – questions that are asking if things are one way or another. One example is: What is the average airspeed velocity of a coconut-laden swallow? Non-examples: What is the best book of all time? Could you hand me the salt, please? I will not consider questions such as these last two.

What do I mean when I say a question is answerable? I mean that, given all the information available, we can determine beyond doubt which possible answer is correct. One may think about any question as having a set of possible answers. If any two of those answers both lead to the currently available information, then we cannot distinguish them and thus cannot answer the question.

So, what was Zeus’s favorite color? Intuitively, you might protest that this question seems to not be about the world, so much as about an imaginary creation within it – but bear with me, and let’s accept this as a real question for now. This questions is certainly unanswerable. If Zeus’s favorite color were blue, the world would be exactly the same as it is now, which could also be the case if his favorite color were orange. There are no historical records about these alternatives, and no authorities on the matter who would be able to give a definitive answer. We do not know, cannot know, and never will know.

Does that make you sad? I hope not. Frankly, I really could care less about Zeus’s favorite color, because it has absolutely no bearing whatsoever on my life (or yours). And the theme of this post is that it makes sense to apply this healthy apathy to all such questions.

Why should we never care about, nor feel bad about, not knowing the answer to such questions? I propose that unanswerable questions are artifacts of our creativity, and of our ignorance*. In other words, if we had complete world knowledge, we would see that asking such questions doesn’t even really make sense. I think this is intuitively clear in asking about Zeus’s favorite color, but less so when questions start to feel like they matter more. For example, are we in a matrix-like simulated world, run by perfect (mistake-free) computers which will never interfere with the rules set up within the system? This feels important, but again it is unanswerable, since we have no way to distinguish between an affirmative or negatory response. We could imagine a million such hypothetical different “realities” to ask about, none of which leave a clue as to their true answer, and each would be just as meaningless to ponder as Zeus’s favorite color.

It’s cerulean, by the way.


* The connection between creativity and ignorance is simply that the possible worlds we can imagine existing are necessarily the result of not knowing everything about the single world which does exist (metaphysicists, please forgive me for that over-simplified statement). I’ve mentioned this idea of ignorance being a key to human understanding in the earlier post on the subjective nature of causality.