Why information hygiene matters

I’ve been struggling with the notion of beliefs as the output of a transitory and “swirling mass” of complexity inside each of us. Myriad tiny influences we can neither observe nor prise apart.

But, assuming this theory is valid, the logical conclusion is that the quality of the information you allow in is incredibly important. If that which inspires your System 1 thinking is rubbish, so is your thinking.

From The Hidden Half:

Asked to account for our beliefs and choices, how often would we say it was an unknown nudge from the flotsam of incidentals? ‘I probably only believe this because I pulled the equivalent of a red sock from my mental laundry under the influence of the last thing I heard in a bar. . .’

If the incidentals are so important, unpredictable and seemingly invisible, it’s not enough to swamp the bad with good. The only answer is to be incredibly vigilant about what gets in.

Perhaps this will prove easier than culling the poorly informed and conscious conspirators from our social networks.

As always my emphasis

Where does your belief come from?

I’ve posted a lot of stuff on this blog questioning the foundations of belief.

How our beliefs are the function of the people we surround ourself with or are built during our formative years and then ossify. How language and culture both inform and limit what we can take in. And that much appears to be stuck in formative states.

But twice this week I’ve come across arguments that our “beliefs” are actually so transitory and shallow that they are all but meaningless.

That we are so riven with contradictions and so lacking a coherent world view that our “beliefs” are little more than fleeting notions backed up by post hoc rationing.

First in an old New Yorker article that makes me seriously question ever again trying to change someone’s mind.

And now in my continued reading of The Hidden Half:

We asked our volunteers to choose their political priorities on a scale of 1 to 10. For example, what would you do if it came to a choice whether the country should spend more on state-provided healthcare, or spend less and cut taxes (where 1 was definitely spend more and 10 was definitely cut tax)?…A short while later, we went back to talk over with our volunteers what they’d written and why. But we cheated. We left their original answer sheet as it was–written in their own hand with their names at the top to help convince them nothing fishy was going on. But where their answers were anywhere from 3 to 7–so not a definite 1 or a definite, uncompromising 10–we flipped the question around.

These are quite long quotes, but bear with me.

The partially handwritten page in front of them was evidence of what they believed–or so they thought. And it was this (doctored) opinion that they now defended. I sat down with a man who originally said that tax cuts were more important than more spending on state healthcare–and listened as he now explained why the opposite was true. His explanation was earnest, intelligent, clear, without hesitation. He wasn’t confused. He accepted this new position as a legitimate summary of his beliefs and didn’t miss a beat in justifying them.

I’ve read of studies where people surrender their opinion in the face of a majority or authority figure.

But that we are so intellectually supplicant that an unrecorded belief is essentially meaningless has quite thrown me. And that we could be dictated to by a recorded belief – even a false one – even more so.

To a certain extent this merely lines up with previous arguments in the book about complexity and simplification. But the lack of stability in the “lens” we use to understand the world – that I can’t feed you similar information over and over and expect a somewhat predictable response – has huge implications for discourse and institutions.

Let me end with a concluding remark from this section of the book:

…the ideal of holding a complete picture in our heads damns our capabilities with an impossible aspiration. The world, quite simply, is too complicated, too big, too messy, to frame in one go. The fact that we observe it in often contradictory fragments is also a measure of the enormity of the perceptual ask.

As always my emphasis

How to ask a good question

My coding odyssey continues and as a result I stumbled across the how to ask a good question page on Stack Overflow. It’s a site for people to ask questions of a large community of coders (I shan’t share what led me to browse the help centre of a help centre 😇).

While much of the page is understandably specific to questions about coding, reading it gave me several thoughts for some universal guidance for good questions.

Pretend you’re talking to a busy colleague and have to sum up your entire question in one sentence: what details can you include that will help someone identify and solve your problem? Include any error messages, key APIs, or unusual circumstances that make your question different from similar questions already on the site…

• If you’re having trouble summarizing the problem, write the title last – sometimes writing the rest of the question first can make it easier to describe the problem.

So often people come with a simple question or problem that they have buried in so much story/minutiae as to make it boring/unintelligible. But if you really want to find an answer, and quickly, it’s probably best to approach it like click bait.

What are the details that will hook me into your question? Can you summarise as to confirm I even know the answer?

The busy colleague is a good device. When I first started as a journalist my producer told me something similar – I should pitch ideas to him as if he was a stranger in a pub who would leave or find me boring if given a long preamble.

Then:

In the body of your question, start by expanding on the summary you put in the title. Explain how you encountered the problem you’re trying to solve, and any difficulties that have prevented you from solving it yourself. The first paragraph in your question is the second thing most readers will see, so make it as engaging and informative as possible.

Help others reproduce the problem

Not all questions benefit from including code. But if your problem is with code you’ve written, you should include some. But don’t just copy in your entire program! Not only is this likely to get you in trouble if you’re posting your employer’s code, it likely includes a lot of irrelevant details that readers will need to ignore when trying to reproduce the problem. Here are some guidelines:

Include just enough code to allow others to reproduce the problem. For help with this, read How to create a Minimal, Complete, and Verifiable example.

Good questions contain context and are rarely just one question (more reason press conferences and panels are bad).

When I’m really trying to pick someone’s brain or find an answer I often break questions down into their component parts. If it’s code we need to establish we’re all using the same version. This applies to basically everything.

Questions can go awry when we’re each making assumptions about intentions, definitions, steps etc. So if you’re trying to find something out it’s often best to start small, at first principles.

You can then walk through the problem with the person, just as the respondents on Stack will try and replicate problems. Sometimes you may discover you’re asking the wrong question. Are the assumptions baked into the question the real answer?

Obviously this only works in a medium where you can go back and forth.

Lastly there needs to be some amount of good faith. This is why I like anonymous questions delivered by a moderator at events, and why short interviews make little sense. Is the question a genuine attempt at knowledge or is it trying to convey something else?

As usual my emphasis.