martes, 31 de julio de 2012

The Usefulness of Useless Knowledge

The Usefulness of Useless Knowledge

by Maria Popova

“The real enemy is the man who tries to mold the human spirit so that it will not dare to spread its wings.”

In an age obsessed with practicality, productivity, and efficiency, I frequently worry that we are leaving little room for abstract knowledge and for the kind of curiosity that invites just enough serendipity to allow for the discovery of ideas we didn’t know we were interested in until we are, ideas that we may later transform into new combinations with applications both practical and metaphysical.

This concern, it turns out, is hardly new. In The Usefulness of Useless Knowledge (PDF), originally published in the October 1939 issue of Harper’s, American educator Abraham Flexner explores this dangerous tendency to forgo pure curiosity in favor of pragmatism — in science, in education, and in human thought at large — to deliver a poignant critique of the motives encouraged in young minds, contrasting those with the drivers that motivated some of history’s most landmark discoveries.

We hear it said with tiresome iteration that ours is a materialistic age, the main concern of which should be the wider distribution of material goods and worldly opportunities. The justified outcry of those who through no fault of their own are deprived of opportunity and a fair share of worldly goods therefore diverts an increasing number of students from the studies which their fathers pursued to the equally important and no less urgent study of social, economic, and governmental problems. I have no quarrel with this tendency. The world in which we live is the only world about which our senses can testify. Unless it is made a better world, a fairer world, millions will continue to go to their graves silent, saddened, and embittered. I have myself spent many years pleading that our schools should become more acutely aware of the world in which their pupils and students are destined to pass their lives. Now I sometimes wonder whether that current has not become too strong and whether there would be sufficient opportunity for a full life if the world were emptied of some of the useless things that give it spiritual significance; in other words, whether our conception of what .is useful may not have become too narrow to be adequate to the roaming and capricious possibilities of the human spirit.

Flexner goes on to explore the question from two points of view — the scientific and the humanistic, or spiritual — and recounts a conversation with legendary entrepreneur and Kodak founder George Eastman, in which the two debate who “the most useful worker in science in the world” is. Eastman points to radio pioneer Guglielmo Marconi, but Flexner stumps Eastman by arguing that, despite his invention, Marconi’s impact on improving human life was “practically negligible.” His explanation bespeaks a familiar subject —combinatorial creativity and the additive nature of invention:

Mr. Eastman, Marconi was inevitable. The real credit for everything that has been done in the field of wireless belongs, as far as such fundamental credit can be definitely assigned to anyone, to Professor Clerk Maxwell, who in 1865 carried out certain abstruse and remote calculations in the field of magnetism and electricity…. Other discoveries supplemented Maxwell’s theoretical work during the next fifteen years. Finally in 1887 and 1888 the scientific problem still remaining — the detection and demonstration of the electromagnetic waves which are the carriers of wireless signals — was solved by Heinrich Hertz, a worker in Helmholtz’s laboratory in Berlin. Neither Maxwell nor Hertz had any concern about the utility of their work; no such thought ever entered their minds. They had no practical objective. The inventor in the legal sense was of course Marconi, but what did Marconi invent? Merely the last technical detail, mainly the now obsolete receiving device called coherer, almost universally discarded.

Hertz and Maxwell could invent nothing, but it was their useless theoretical work which was seized upon by a clever technician and which has created new means for communication, utility, and amusement by which men whose merits are relatively slight have obtained fame and earned millions. Who were the useful men? Not Marconi, but Clerk Maxwell and Heinrich Hertz. Hertz and Maxwell were geniuses without thought of use. Marconi was a clever inventor with no thought but use.

Flexner goes on to contend that the work of Hertz and Maxwell is exemplary of the motives underpinning all instances of monumental scientific discovery, bringing to mind Richard Feynman’s timeless wisdom.

[Hertz and Maxwell] had done their work without thought of use and that throughout the whole history of science most of the really great discoveries which had
ultimately proved to be beneficial to mankind had been made by men and women who were driven not by the desire to be useful but merely the desire to satisfy their curiosity.

Upon Eastman’s surprise, Flexner defends the idea of curiosity as a guiding principle in science and innovation:

Curiosity, which may or may not eventuate in something useful, is probably the outstanding characteristic of modern thinking. It is not new. It goes back to Galileo, Bacon, and to Sir Isaac Newton, and it must be absolutely unhampered. Institutions of learning should be devoted to the cultivation of curiosity and the less they are deflected by considerations of immediacy of application, the more likely they are to contribute not only to human welfare but to the equally important satisfaction of intellectual interest which may indeed be said to have become the ruling passion of intellectual life in modern times.

This lament, alas, is timelier than ever. As Columbia biological sciences professor Stuart Firestein reminds us in the excellent Ignorance: How It Drives Science, grant applications for scientific research are now routinely denied on the grounds of being “curiosity-driven” — a term used in a pejorative sense whereas, ironically, it should describe the highest aspiration of science, something many a great scientist can speak to.

Flexner goes on to give several more examples, pointing to the work of Einstein, Faraday, Gauss, and other legendary scientists, then sums it all up with a thoughtful disclaimer:

I am not for a moment suggesting that everything that goes on in laboratories will ultimately turn to some unexpected practical use or that an ultimate practical use is its actual justification. Much more am I pleading for the abolition of the word ‘use,’ and for the freeing of the human spirit. To be sure, we shall thus
free some harmless cranks. To be sure, we shall thus waste some precious dollars. But what is infinitely more important is that we shall be striking the shackles off the human mind and setting it free for the adventures which in our own day have, on the one hand, taken Hale and Rutherford and Einstein and their peers millions upon millions of miles into the uttermost realms of space and, on the other, loosed the boundless energy imprisoned in the atom. What Rutherford and others like Bohr and Millikan have done out of sheer curiosity in the effort to understand the construction of the atom has released forces which may transform human life; but this ultimate and unforeseen and unpredictable practical result is not offered as a justification for Rutherford or Einstein or Millikan or Bohr or any of their peers.

Further:

With the rapid accumulation of ‘useless’ or theoretic knowledge a situation has been created in which it has become increasingly possible to attack practical
problems in a scientific spirit. Not only inventors, but ‘pure’ scientists have indulged in this sport. I have mentioned Marconi, an inventor, who, while a benefactor to the human race, as a matter of fact merely ‘picked other men’s brains.’ Edison belongs to the same category.

[…]

Ehrlich, fundamentally speculative in his curiosity, turned fiercely upon the problem of syphilis and doggedly pursued it until a solution of immediate practical use — the discovery of salvarsan — was found. The discoveries of insulin by Banting for use in diabetes and of liver extract by Minot and Whipple for use in pernicious anemia belong in the same category: both were made by thoroughly scientific men, who realized that much ‘useless’ knowledge had been piled up by men unconcerned with its practical bearings, but that the time was now ripe to raise practical questions in a scientific manner.

Flexner sums up the idea that, as Steve Jobs famously observed, “creativity is just connecting things” and, as Mark Twain put it, “all ideas are second-hand” in this beautiful articulation, adding to history’s greatest definitions of science:

Thus it becomes obvious that one must be wary in attributing scientific discovery wholly to anyone person. Almost every discovery has a long and precarious history. Someone finds a bit here, another a bit there. A third step succeeds later and thus onward till a genius pieces the bits together and makes the decisive contribution. Science, like the Mississippi, begins in a tiny rivulet in the distant forest. Gradually other streams swell its volume. And the roaring river that bursts the dikes is formed from countless sources.

He extends this into a vision for the future of education, touching on points we’ve more recently seen made by contemporary education reform thinkers likeSir Ken Robinson and John Seely Brown:

Over a period of one or two hundred years the contributions of professional schools to their respective activities will probably be found to lie, not so much in the training of men who may to-morrow become practical engineers or practical lawyers or practical doctors, but rather in the fact that even in the pursuit of strictly practical aims an enormous amount of apparently useless activity goes on. Out of this useless activity there come discoveries which may well prove of infinitely more importance to the human mind and to the human spirit than the accomplishment of the useful ends for which the schools were founded.

The prescience of Flexner’s insights on education continues, eventually circling back to the whole of the human condition:

The subject which I am discussing has at this moment a peculiar poignancy. In certain large areas — Germany and Italy especially — the effort is now being
made to clamp down the freedom of the human spirit. Universities have been so reorganized that they have become tools of those who believe in a special political, economic, or racial creed. Now and then a thoughtless individual in one of the few democracies left in this world will even question the fundamental importance of absolutely untrammeled academic freedom. The real enemy of the human race is not the fearless and irresponsible thinker, be he right or wrong. The real enemy is the man who tries to mold the human spirit so that it will not dare to spread its wings, as its wings were once spread in Italy and Germany, as well as in Great Britain
and the United States.

[…]

Justification of spiritual freedom goes, however, much farther than originality whether in the realm of science or humanism, for it implies tolerance throughout the range of human dissimilarities. In the face of the history of the human race what can be more silly or ridiculous than likes or dislikes founded upon race or religion? Does humanity want symphonies and paintings and profound scientific truth, or does it want Christian symphonies, Christian paintings, Christian science, or Jewish symphonies, Jewish paintings, Jewish science, or Mohammedan or Egyptian or Japanese or Chinese or American or German or Russian or Communist or Conservative contributions to and expressions of the infinite richness of the human soul?

For more of Flexner’s timeless, timelier than ever insights on education and the human spirit, see Iconoclast: Abraham Flexner and a Life in Learning.

La mala racha - Eduardo Galeano - Joan Manuel Serrat

 

Mientras dura la mala racha
se me cae todo
de los bolsillos
y la memoria.

Mientras dura la mala racha
pierdo las llaves,
los documentos,
el tren y el rumbo
tal como si
tuviese al mundo
en contra de mí.

Mientras dura la mala racha...
Tropiezo con
mi propio pie,
me llueve sal
si tengo sed.

Mientras dura la mala racha
todo lo mezclo,
todo lo enredo,
todo lo rompo.

Mientras dura la mala racha
olvido nombres,
confundo caras
y tengo dudas
si eso será
tan solo pura
casualidad.

Mientras dura la mala racha...

O alguien que no
me quiere bien.
Maldito quien
me maldijo.

Mientras dura la mala racha,
dame cobijo.

Secreta mujer - Letra de Eduardo Galeano y Joan Manuel Serrat - Música de Joan Manuel Serrat

 

En El libro de los abrazos, uno de los libros más exitosos y logrados de Galeano, está contenido un pequeño relato titulado "La noche". Este relato dividido en cuatro partes sirvió de inspiración a Serrat para su canción "Secreta mujer" que formó parte del álbum Sombras de la China (1998):

LA NOCHE / 1
No consigo dormir. Tengo una mujer atravesada entre los párpados. Si pudiera, le diría que se vaya; pero tengo una mujer atravesada en la garganta.

LA NOCHE / 2
Arránqueme, Señora, las ropas y las dudas. Desnúdeme, desdúdeme.

LA NOCHE / 3
Yo me duermo a la orilla de una mujer: yo me duermo a la orilla de un abismo.

LA NOCHE / 4
Me desprendo del abrazo, salgo a la calle.
En el cielo, ya clareando, se dibuja, finita, la luna.
La luna tiene dos noches de edad.
Yo, una.

La letra de la canción de Serrat queda así:

No puedo dormir.

No puedo dormir.

Atravesada entre los párpados

tengo una mujer,

secreta mujer

tan sol y tan luna

que abre mis ojos y me obliga a ver

mi desventura y mi fortuna.

Y no me deja dormir

esa mujer,

esa secreta mujer.

Arránqueme, señora, las ropas.

Desnúdeme.

Arránqueme, señora, las dudas.

Desdúdeme.

Arránqueme, señora, las ropas y las dudas.

Desnúdeme. Desdúdeme.

Secreta mujer.

Secreta mujer.

Atravesada entre mis párpados

le quiero decir,

le quiero pedir

que me deje, que se vaya.

Pero no puedo hablar a mi pesar.

Atravesada en la garganta,

me atormenta una mujer

esa mujer,

esa secreta mujer.

Arránqueme, señora, las ropas.

Desnúdeme.

Arránqueme, señora, las dudas.

Desdúdeme.

Arránqueme, señora, las ropas y las dudas.

Desnúdeme. Desdúdeme.

sábado, 28 de julio de 2012

Spinetta, El Video (1986)

 

Spinetta íntimo. Entrevista, 2010

 

El futuro, la vida, el pasado, la familia, la música, la comida, la tecnología, su ropa, su casa, el hombre, la historia, la política y los políticos. Sus ruidos musicales.

“Creo que mi vida es muy valiosa.”

“Hoy es la mejor época para vivir. Mañana es mejor.”

“Uno tiene más miedo a sufrir que a morir. No sabe qué es morir.”

 

1992 - Parece Que Fue Ayer - Luis Alberto Spinetta

 

“Yo no creo en la historia de ir al Cielo porque me haya portado bien. Yo creo que uno va al Cielo por algo que  lleva adentro, por una vibración. Y que todos vamos al Cielo. El Cielo no es solamente para los buenos.”

lunes, 9 de julio de 2012

Jorge Luis Borges–Precursor de Internet

La comunidad científica lo menciona como precursor, entre otros autores, de la literatura hipertextual. Los enlaces borgianos conforman en la literatura un avance multilineal, pero "organizado alrededor de las formas filosóficas tradicionales del argumento lineal (Piscitelli, 2002, 33). Porque si el pensamiento científico es irremediablemente lineal, cada uno de nosotros tiene un día a día de zapping mental, de pensamientos hipertextuales.
Borges hacía "literaruta". No es un error tipográfico, sino una ruta guiada de literaturas. Parte de su complejidad se la debemos atribuir a sus hiperenlaces narrativo, producto de un enorme bagaje literario cultivado desde su infancia y de una imaginación única de universos interrelacionados.
(...)Theodor Nelson fue quien acuñó la expresión hipertexto, en 1981. Se refería a una escritura no secuencial, a un texto que bifurca, que permite que el lector elija y que se lea mejor en una pantalla interactiva. De acuerdo con la noción popular, se trata de una serie de bloques de texto conectados entre sí por nexos, que forman diferentes itinerarios para el usuario. Con Internet esta noción se volvió vulgar. Hipertexto es cada enlace que escogemos en nuestra pantalla y que casi siempre nos conduce a rutas de navegación desconocidas y a contenidos no lineales al texto inicial. Esto convierte al internauta en protagonista y autor de su propia narración, dejando de ser sólo espectador, resignificando los contenidos.
Uno de los principales teóricos del hipertexto, George Landow decía:
"Abrir el texto introduce necesariamente otras voces, otros puntos de vista, y el texto encarna ahora múltiples puntos de vista. Los vínculos electrónicos conducen casi inevitablemente a la mezcla de modos y géneros, un factor tal vez más importante en los hipertextos educativos y de ficción. Hipertextualizar un texto no produce un libro electrónico, sino una biblioteca electrónica en miniatura. (Nunberg, 1998: 231)
Borges cultivaba el hipertexto y la profundidad narrativa. La versatilidad era su principal virtud, pero se necesita un lector comprometido, que se concentre en la obra. No es ver televisión en el sofá, ni leer un éxito de verano en la playa.
El ejemplo más representativo de lectura y narración (y su consecuente lectura) hipertextual es preciosamente "EL JARDIN DE SENDEROS QUE SE BIFURCAN" (Ficciones, 1944). "El tiempo se bifurca perpetuamente hacia innumerables futuros", dice el autor.
El libro escrito por un tal Ts'ui Pen era el jardín de senderos que se bifurcan.
"Tsíui Pen diría una vez: Me retiro a escribir un libro. Y otra: Me retiro a construir un laberinto. Todos imaginaron dos obras; nadie pensó que libro y laberinto eran un solo objeto. El Pabellón de la límpida soledad se erguía en el centro de un jardín tal vez intrincado; el hecho puede haber sugerido a los hombres un laberinto físico"
"En todas las ficciones, cada vez que un hombre se enfrenta con diversas alternativas, opta por una y elimina las otras; en la del casi inextricable Ts'ui Pen, opta -simultáneamente-por todas. Crea, así, diversos porvenires, diversos tiempos, que también prolifera y se bifurcan.
Bifurcación es sinónimo de hipertexto. Si pensamos nuestra cotidiana forma de navegar por la red veremos un recorrido semejante al cuento. La obra de Ts'ui Pen fue juzgada, en esta ficción, como incomprensible. Pero no se sabía que precisamente en su obra estaba construyendo un laberinto. Y allí está, precisamente, el significado de la obra.
De "Ficciones" -junto a "El Aleph", su libro de cuentos más popular- también es LA BIBLIOTECA DE BABEL.
Aquí vemos la obra más significativa del universo borgiano. Pero a la vez estaba narrando un constructo semejante, idéntico diría, al que hoy conforma Internet. Como un diseñador del futuro, un astrólogo o un mago chino, Borges pensó a Internet. Porque su Biblioteca es el destino final de Internet y ya casi su presente. Sólo que es la pensó hace 60 años.
Vale decir que existen miles de rutas apropiadas para asociar a Borges con hipertexto, porque su propia forma de narrar nos invita siempre a otros mundos, a saltos, a interrupciones en el argumento principal. Nos invita a recorrer su erudición de caminos alternativos. Un profesor de literatura de la universidad nos decía que a Borges había que leerlo siempre con una Enciclopedia Británica al lado. Agrego; hoy debemos leerlo muy cerca de un ordenador conectado a Internet.

(Fragmento de “Borges y el hipertexto. Internet: La nueva Biblioteca de Babel”, Por Hugo Pardo Kuklinski)
Bibliografía del artículo:
http://weblog.educ.ar/educacion-tics/archives/000847.php
MALDONADO, Tomás. 1998. Crítica de la razón informática. Editorial Paidós. Barcelona.
NUNBERG, Georffrey. (Comp.) 1998. El futuro del libro. Editorial Paidós. Barcelona.
Landow, George P. (compilador) 1997. Teoría del hipertexto. Editorial Paidós. Barcelona.
WOLTON, Dominique. 2000. Sobrevivir a Internet, Conversaciones con Olivier Jay. Gedisa Editorial, Colección El mamífero parlante. Barcelona.


Ver también: http://portal.educ.ar/debates/educacionytic/nuevos-alfabetismos/borges-y-el-hipertexto-internet-la-nueva-biblioteca-de-babel.php