rattus rattus’ blog

In a recent discussion about Sustainability and Global Change a student asked a few renowned scientists what we can do if the current unsustainable development may not be stopped or reversed in time. After a bit of discussion the researchers came to the conclusion: Think globally, act locally.

No, I am not criticizing it (I am just lying). I wonder what it means. I am asking what those who dare to answer with this slogan want to say. More so, what do they say? What is it they are demonstrating?

Who were the ones that explained us that global thinking tends to fail miserably? At least, a good number of ecological catastrophes serves as endorsement.

What does thinking globally mean anyway? Is there a global thinking without acting? Is the act of thinking globally a local act?
Whether globally or locally we act and we think in networks of causes and effects. Are local networks less complex than global networks? If so, at what level of complexity may we stop? What is the opposite? If I am to act locally how do I know what is local and what is global? What does acting globally mean? Who decides? And is this decision an act? A local one?

What about recommendations, rules, laws, and limits? Are they global or local? In which contexts do they operate? Who is held responsible?

Of course, I am responsible for my local actions, am I not? Who is responsible for my global thinking? Me, too. That’s what we think. So, why are there laws? What does it mean that I do act in contexts of habits, traditions, ethics, and for instance European laws?

And how comes my actions are bound by the fact that an American company does not care about how their computers are produced by a company in Taiwan both of which my local dealer can’t get hold of even though it entirely broke down yesterday only 3 months after I bought it?

Do you know what the answer is? — Think globally, act locally! And the other way round.

Here is one more proof of the fact that I am a liar simply because I am asking for feedback.

If I ask someone for feedback and if I do so honestly, that means I am asking, and I am taking the received feedback for what it is, namely others opinion, their true opinion, then someone could say: No, you are not asking for feedback. Or, one could even say: You are a liar. And, brave as I am, sticking to my promises, I will have to accept it.

This, of course, once more leads straight into a paradox which we all know as the The Liar’s Paradox.

A WYRIWYG questionnaire

If you think that this is a little far-fetched, well, I agree. (You see, I still prefer to ask honestly for feedback.) And then, just recently, I have received a questionnaire which I, for a change, was eager to fill out because I liked the people who had given it to me. But I couldn’t. Many questions were phrased in a way so that it was impossible for me to answer reasonably. And if I did I was sure my answers were to be misunderstood.

If someone claims that there is specific knowledge about something you are in fact expected to accept her or his view of it.

This is not only a lie in the sense that I expect you to accept my view of my knowledge about someone’s claims.
It’s a statement that provokes self-contradiction per se in the sense that knowledge is somewhere, for instance, printed in books or published in papers. Knowledge, here, is understood as something that can be reasoned, explained, discovered, acquired, agreed upon, and verified, or at least falsified.

But, if there is such a thing as a view of knowledge, if there are people who believe to know something and who believe that others do not, then knowledge does depend on someone’s perspective.

Whenever I say “it is known that” or “we know that” I’d always rather expect someone else’s denial.

By the way, I find it very interesting to search Google for phrases such as “it is known that“, and “we know that“.

This blog is out of order!

We are currently facing a major power blackout. This reminds me of an old question: How do you know whether something is out of order?
One day, I have seen a modern touch screen terminal where you are supposed to buy tickets. The screen was lid and it showed the clearly readable text: “Out of order!”. Obviously, the machine was not out of order.

How can you make a machine say that it is out of order, if it apparently is not when it does say so? I’d say smash it with a slash hammer, and stick up a sheet of paper that reads — handwritten, of course: Out of order!

Pulling the power plug often helps, too. ;-)

Have you ever tried to prove something indirectly? I am pretty sure you are doing it all day long. According to Wikipedia, see Wikipedia: Indirect Proof, it is as simple as the following:

If you have no water, you can’t make coffee.

This seems to be undoubtedly true to me, at least since adolescence. And it is because water is one of the essential ingredients for coffee.
Let us apply the nice rules of Indirect Proving to another statement that is true.

First the statement itself:
This statement is true.

Now, we assume that it is wrong (meaning “we have no water”). Then we will see if this leads to a contradiction (or something as unbearable as “being unable to make more coffee”).

If the statement is wrong, that is
“This statement is true” is wrong.
it follows that This statement is wrong. Because of this, saying the statement is wrong, it follows that The statement is true. But this contradicts our assumption.

Witty readers probably see that the proof did not precisely lead to a contradiction but to a paradox. Let me suggest that for a moment, we adopt this paradoxical situation here as being as futile as a contradiction.

Well, here is another example of an often heard, and certainly true statement right for you to try out what we have just learned:

I am saying the truth.

. . .

Go ahead, contradict me!

Heinz von Foerster shares with us a beautiful riddle about trust and truth. When I wrote about it my working title was “Trust not truth”. I was thinking this title forth and back because one of my inner voices kept yelling something like “You can’t say one shall not trust the truth if Heinz von Foerster clearly shows that truth is based on trust. I mean, what else could we do but trust the truth?
Trust not truth is nonsense. Put it in your Nonsense Box.”

I did see that “trust not truth” can be read in many ways, too. One being “trust — not truth”. Yet, I eventually changed the title to “The problem is not truth” as if this was any less nonsense. But, I could always say it’s a quote of a quote of a quote :-) That’s why.

So, the problem is trust — not truth.
And this is the truth.

What? You mean there is probably more to it? You mean trust not truth? — Oh, yes, you got me on this one ’cause I am a liar.

The trouble with feedback is … feedback ;-)

First, we may ask how do we get feedback. This is simple because there is always feedback even if there is none since this is feedback, at least when you have been asking.

Thus, there is always feedback.

Now that we have feedback we may wonder what it says about us. It might be charming, and it might be disastrous (though I never know what to prefer, so it might be the other way round). But then, if you are asking for feedback you’d better expect some. If you do not like it, maybe it helps asking where it came from.
Anyway, we are probably well advised to ask what the feedback tells us about those who provided it. You know, they may be liars. Watch out!

Look closer! I am sure you will find something.

Eventually, we may want to ask for feedback about the feedback we have just received. As we are generally pretty much involved ourselves we are best asking outsiders and third parties for … feedback about the feedback. Some do this at social gatherings in a pub. A company might have implemented monitoring, service providers might have engaged mystery shoppers, our universities prefer “evaluation”, psychologists and therapists tend to call it supervision.

Feedback about feedback.

But can you trust it? — Oh dear, back to the start!
Ask for feedback about feedback about feedback, and do not forget to give me some, too.