Thursday, September 27, 2007

Chaos and Analysis

Currently reading:
Prose Edda of Snorri Sturlson
   trans. by Jean I. Young

I've been thinking about chaos theory recently, and I was wondering how it fits with my recent statements on logic. Paleolithnick had also suggested the relevance to my thoughts a while back on free will, a topic which I may well cover when I return to the "Defense of LFW" series (it will come back eventually, really, I need to get the paper in readable form by October 5th. And I'll return to the statements about causation and whether it affects logical analysis at some point as well; maybe in a year or two).

I'm going to make some rough-hewn suggestions which may send my inner mathematician into seizures, but he can work them out more later if it bothers him that badly. I'm going to be pulling at too characteristics of chaotic systems. The first has to do with the lack of predictability. This is due to two things: first, sensitivity to initial conditions. This means that no matter how close you get to the starting point of the system, if you're not exact, you'll get arbitrarily far away as time goes on. This in itself isn't the only issue; a simple exponential or even quadratic function does the same thing. However, one can at least get a feel for the function and try again in those cases, and determine how far off one started by how the ending looks. A chaotic system twists and turns on itself so much that one can get completely lost in it, without any idea of how on- or off-target one is. Further, while if you come at the system in some directions it remains stable, if you come at it in other directions it is unstable. An example of this could be the climate; some changes to it will be canceled out, others will balloon, and if pushed passed certain boundaries, it'll completely change. If you come at it from an unstable direction, things'll go haywire and you're prediction will be nothing like the real thing.

However, despite this inability at being able to predict the system at an analytical level, the system displays macro-level regularities. These are called "strange attractors." More or less, if you look at the graph of a chaotic system, you can see a pretty picture rather than a tangled ball of yarn. An example would again be found in weather patterns: we can't predict the weather with that much accuracy, and while we can improve we'll never be able to look too far in advance, but at the same time we have seasons. I don't know what the weather will be like tomorrow, but we are entering fall.

So, in sum, low-level analytical details, if they don't start at the right place, can (and most likely will) create an overall picture of the world that is wrong in all of what it has to so. Further, getting closer to the right answer doesn't necessarily mitigate this, and the starting point is also the most controversial point in a well-formed argument. However, even if we can't get at the details very well, by looking at the different trajectories of different theories, we can see broad patterns arising. These patterns then exist, even if they themselves are not analyzable. All of this assuming that we are in a chaotic system, whatever that might mean, or that our epistemological position is analogous in appropriate ways to chaotic systems.

1 comment:

S. Coulter said...

In re: to your comments:

I agree; I don't mean to apologize for being personal on my blog. :) Of course, I'm skeptical in general of the division of practical and theoretical concerns at the moment.

I think that there is an objective given reality that is in a causal relationship to our perceptions and beliefs, and that a part of that relationship involves constraining our perceptions and beliefs in some way. As William James might put it, nature is plastic to some of our practical aims and subjective concerns, to some extent, but this plasticity has limits. If I take a risk on a working hypothesis and I am in error, nature may correct my belief by undersirable consequences to my actions based on that hypothesis.

I'm not sure this commits me to a pragmatic theory of truth. I'm enough of a realist to be opposed in principle to epistemic theories of truth--I mean theories of truth designed to rule out radical error or radical skepticism.

I know absolutely nothing about Derrida. You know Spiegel avoids him like the plague--I don't think we even read him at all in Aesthetics, which was the most exposure to recent Continental European philosophy I had at TU outside of your uncle's History II class. I haven't enlarged my acquaintance with Derrida at all in grad school, either. I do know a little more about Kant, Peirce, James, and Putnam, though. I still try to bend my readings of the middle two to be compatible with realism. I am hesitant to commit to agreement or disagreement with Kant, and Putnam I'm not sure I dare claim to understand well enough to state agreement or disagreement yet.