Showing posts with label metablogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metablogging. Show all posts

Friday, May 15, 2009

So does this count as a Meta-Meme?

Metablogging was originally intended to be the personal category ("I broke my leg/am getting wisdom teeth extracted/just don't care today, so no blog for you") but this will be my fourth post (of five total) in metablogging and all but one of them have been about metablogging, not personal stuff. Ah well. The best laid plans of mice and men, and all that.

In the interests of having something personal to justify this category, though, I'll start with a personal anecdote: Jehovah's Witnesses came by this morning shortly before my hiatus. Not terribly notable in and of itself, of course, but it was actually the first time I've seen them go door-to-door, so kinda exciting. But it got me thinking on the subject of memes.

A little background first: in the mid-19th century, the idea of evolution, in a broad sense - that is, that life used to take different forms than it does now, and that it has somehow developed from those forms into the ones it has now - was generally accepted. But the mechanism behind it was not really known. The most widely accepted theories were those proposed by Jean-Baptiste Lamarck at the beginning of the century: first, that creatures developed certain aspects of their physiologies over the course of their lives and passed them on to their offspring (so a proto-giraffe, stretching its neck to reach leaves, would have children with slightly longer necks than the parents were born with); or, alternately, that there was simply some élan vital that made animals develop and complexify (so successive generations of giraffes would simply have longer necks because, well, that is how their élan tells them to develop). The problem was that the first option (inheritance of acquired characteristics) had a lack of evidence - the children of blacksmiths being born not particularly more muscly then their peers, for instance - and the second (generally just called Lamarckian Evolution) was really just a way of passing the buck into philosophical realms where science couldn't meaningfully argue with it.

In 1859 Charles Darwin, an English naturalist, published a book titled On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life (now generally just called On the Origin of Species) in which he proposed a third theory. All creatures, he argued, produce far more offspring than could ever survive to adulthood. Some of them will live long enough to produce the new generation; most will die. Which ones survive? Well, those best adapted to the environment; proto-giraffes with longer necks will have access to more food than their shorter compatriots, be healthier and get more mates (who will also tend to be longer-necked) and their kids, although still having a variety of neck lengths, will on average have necks ever so slightly longer than their parents' generation. Darwin's theory ("Natural Selection") was so eminently testable, was presented with so much evidence (Darwin held off publication for the better part of two decades, never feeling that his increasingly mountainous pile of evidence was enough, until the possibility of being scooped by a colleague* finally prompted him to publish) and above all made so much sense, that it almost immediately became the dominant paradigm of biology, a position it has held ever since.

Then, in the 1970s, a man named Richard Dawkins had an interesting thought about natural selection. Who said it only applies to living things? After all, ideas behave much like animals do: they spread, reproduce, mutate, survive at different rates based on their adaptation to the environment. Dawkins formalized this into the idea of memes (by analogy to genes; it's pronounced "meem"). Perhaps the quintessential example of a meme is a chain-letter or -email. A meme is born, or develops out of an old one: somebody creates a joke and forwards it to some friends. It spreads, passing from person to person, mutating along the way; mutations occur as people change or add or misinterpret or do whatever to the meme. Those mutations that help pass it on (to a chain-letter, perhaps polishing the joke at the core or adding a plea to forward it) are propagated more and faster, and thus take up more and more space relative to the original; mutations that harm its propagation (say, accidentally snipping the joke out entirely) occur as well but die off quickly. As time goes on, natural selection pushes the meme in the direction of better and better reproduction, just like it does to living things; and this is good, because there is a limit to how many chain letters you can forward in a day, so the joke has to not only be good but also be better than any other joke you could be telling in order to get passed on.

But of course memes aren't just limited to chain letters, even if they provide the most clear-cut example. Dawkins pointed out that pretty much anything that might be loosely qualified as an "idea" could be considered as a meme. Fashions are memes: they are created, spread, mutate, and eventually are replaced by other fashions, which (in some hard-to-define way) are better adapted to the environment of people's fashion choices. So are, say, phrases: the "best laid plans" quote towards the top of the post is an example of a meme, spreading through writing and conversation; at one point it lost the Scots dialect ending ("gang aft a-gley") and the new version, despite the weakness of making its ending implicit, outcompeted its progenitor. Philosophical concepts are memes too, as are political ones: communism, for example, mutated out of socialism into a more aggressively expansionist version; developed secondary characteristics (Soviet state education, the Comintern) to help keep up propagation; mutated into new varieties, some of which flourished (eg, Marxism-Leninism), some of which failed due to an inability to reproduce fast enough to stay competitive (Anarcho-Communism), and some of which failed due to changing environmental conditions outside their control (Trotskyism); and finally, the whole environment changed rapidly, outpacing the mutability of the family of communist memes to keep up, replacing them en masse with other memes (largely various species of libertarian capitalism and light authoritarianism). Finally, to take this post back to the opening anecdote, religions can be treated as memes too**; Jehovah's Witnesses (Jehovah's Witnessing? Jehovah's Witnessism?), for example, is a competitive religious meme not least because of its explicit commands to evangelism.

Finally, the internet turns out to be a great breeding ground for memes. People on the internet tend to have plenty of free time, plenty of desire to converse, and with practically real-time connectivity can spread memes around very quickly. The intro to the video game Zero Wing, for instance, was so badly translated that people began referencing it all over the internet, the phrase "All your base are belong to us" in particular becoming a fast spreading meme. After a while, the phrase became seen as boring or old, and mainly died off. There are dozens - probably hundreds - of other memes floating around the internet: rickrolling (innocuous-seeming or downright misleadingly-labelled links to the music video of "Never Going To Give You Up" by Rick Astley), lolcats (weirdly labelled pictures of cats), de-motivational posters (long since mutated to include pretty much anything in the "picture, black frame, label" model), and many, many more.

...And of course, the idea of internet memes (like the concept of memes itself) is a meme in its own right: spreading from person to person, via things like this blog post, and continuing to occupy a niche in the mental environment as long as people continue to pass it on. Memetics never really turned into a science in the sense Dawkins probably imagined back in 1976, but it remains a pretty neat concept to think about and throw around occasionally.

*Alfred Russell Wallace.
**Dawkins has since become an outspoken and frankly irritatingly evangelistic atheist; his reductionistic view of religions as memes only is probably related to this.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Going off the grid

The blog will be not updating for the next week; I'm going out into the Ontario backwoods to hew some wood and draw some water.

Monday, May 4, 2009

English - older than you think

So, when we left off, we'd just discovered that despite the use of Lorem Ipsum elsewhere, the full-size style preview on Blogger is actually filled with, well, regular English.


Specifically, the first couple of lines of Book II of John Milton's Paradise Lost (Satan vowing to wage eternal war on Heaven) and the start of Belial's speech on the same subject from a bit later in. (For no reason I can tell, Belial's speech is the second sample post, followed by the rest of Satan's speech. My best guess is they initially wanted to have a series of posts with one of each of the demons'  speeches from Book II per post, got two posts in, and then decided to just copy the text in sequence out of the start of the book.) This works in the narrow sense that the text is fairly arbitrary and so not particularly distracting, but in the more general sense of adding in spacefiller gibberish it is an utter failure: the text is recognizable and readable English.
High on a Throne of Royal State, which far
Outshon the wealth of ORMUS and of IND,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showrs on her Kings BARBARIC Pearl and Gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
To that bad eminence; and from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain Warr with Heav'n, and by success untaught
His proud imaginations thus diplaid.
It's not quite modern English but it's comprehensible. ("Satan sits on his shiny throne, and, despite the fact that he can't win, is planning to go on fighting Heaven.") Paradise Lost was published (in its final form) in 1674, which means it falls into a century-long slot of not-quite-modern English most popularly exemplified by Shakespeare and the King James Bible. Despite complaints about it, Shakespeare is eminently readable. It is, after all, written at the same time as the KJV (there are even some - unsubstantiated - theories that Shakespeare contributed to the 1611 KJV) and most people nowadays can still fake a passable King James. Taking (for example) the opening lines of the Book of Esther:
Now it came to pass in the days of Ahasuerus, (this is Ahasuerus which reigned, from India even unto Ethiopia, over an hundred and seven and twenty provinces:)
That in those days, which the king Ahasuerus sat on the throne of his kingdom, which was in Shushan the palace,
In the third year of his reign, he made a feast unto all his princes and his servants; the power of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes of the provinces, being before him:
When he shewed the riches of his glorious kingdom and the honour of his excellent majesty many days, even an hundred and fourscore days.
Comparing this to the New International Version of 1978, we have
This is what happened in the time of Xerxes, the Xerxes who ruled over 127 provinces stretching from India to Cush:
At that time King Xerxes reigned from his royal throne in the citadel of Susa,
And in the third year of his reign he gave a banquet for all his nobles and officials. The military leaders of Persia and Media, the princes, and the nobles of the provinces were present.
For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty.

There's not a terribly great difference. Apart from the occasional out-of-order phrasings and the even more occasional archaic vocabulary (the only real example above being the use of "power" for "generals") it's just about as readable. Shakespeare is a little more flowery than the KJV in general, since he's not restricted to translating a preexisting text, but even then reading it (or better still, listening to it) you can understand what is being said.

Going back eighty years or so to the Coverdale bible of 1535 (Tyndale is the more popular version, but he was executed before getting around to the book of Esther) we find that the spelling takes a sudden hard hit but it still remains understandable, especially read aloud:
In the tyme of Ahasuerus, which reigned from India unto Ethiopia, over an hundreth and seven and twentye londes,
What tyme as he sat on his seate roiall in the castell of Susa
In the thirde yeare of his reigne, he made a feast unto all his prynces and servauntes, namely unto the mighty men of Persia and Media, to the Debites and rulers of his countrees,
That he mighte shewe the noble riches of his kingdome, and the glorious worshippe of his greatnesse, many dayes longe, even an hundreth and foure score dayes.
The phrasing is a little strange but spellcheck it and drop the occasional very weird word ("debites"?) and it's pretty much the same as the KJV. But Coverdale wasn't even the first English translation of the Bible: that credit goes to Wycliffe, around 1380.
In the daies of kyng Assuerus, that regnede fro Ynde til to Ethiope, on an hundrid and sevene and twenti provynces, whanne he sat in the seete of his rewme,
The citee Susa was the bigynnyng of his rewme.
Therefor in the thridde yeer of his empire he he made a greete feeste to alle hise princes and children, the strongeste men of Persis, and to the noble men of Medeis, and to the prefectis of provynces, bifor him silf,
To schewe the richessis of the glorie of his rewme, and the gretnesse, and boost of his power in myche tyme, that is, an hundrid and foure scoor daies.
The spelling is terrible, and the language falls into what is generally called Middle English, but if you read it out loud it is still legible. ("In the days of king Assuerus, that reigned fro' Ind 'til to Ethiop, on an 'undred and seven and twenty provinces, when he sat in the seat of his rewme [realm]...") It's not until you hit Old English, pre-Norman invasion, and more than a thousand years ago, that the language becomes sufficiently different to be incomprehensible (not Esther but the Lord's Prayer, c. 1000, due to lack of a complete Old English Bible):
Fæder ure þu þe eart on heofonum, Si þin nama gehalgod. to becume þin rice, gewurþe ðin willa, on eorðan swa swa on heofonum. urne gedæghwamlican hlaf syle us todæg, and forgyf us ure gyltas, swa swa we forgyfað urum gyltendum. and ne gelæd þu us on costnunge, ac alys us of yfele. soþlice.
Note that the language, for the first time, is completely incomprehensible even read aloud: "Fader ure thu the eart on hyofonum, si thin nama gehalgod..." (The þ and ð are called thorn and eth respectively, and both pronounced more-or-less "th".)

Jumping back to the 17th century, Paradise Lost - being in verse - is in fact even less legible than most writing of the time. The Pilgrim's Progress, written only four years later (1678), is in practically everything but style completely modern:
As I walk'd through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place, where was a Denn; And I laid me down in that place to sleep: And as I slept I dreamed a Dream. I dreamed, and behold I saw a Man cloathed with Raggs, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own House, a Book in his hand, and a great burden upon his Back. I looked and saw him open the Book, and Read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled: and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry; saying, what shall I do?
And fifty years after that Gulliver's Travels (1726) is, in effect, a rather formally-written piece of modern English:
My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons. He sent me to Emanuel College in Cambridge at fourteen years old, where I resided three years, and applied myself close to my studies; but the charge of maintaining me, although I had a very scanty allowance, being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in London, with whom I continued four years.
So what do we know about English? Well, definitely modern English goes back a long time - at least three hundred years, with another hundred of iffy-but-comprehensible modern English before that. Then there's another three or four hundred years of very strangely spelled but still recognizable English before that. You need to get back before Piers Plowman in the mid-14th century - that's six and a half centuries and it's still on the good side of legibility. You have to go back the better part of a millennia, to a time when English hadn't even really come together out of Norman French and Anglo-Saxon, when even the alphabet wasn't the same (thorn and eth were both dropped around 1300) before you genuinely run out of English. And despite the rapid changes in spelling and style (especially in the 16th and 17th centuries respectively) English has been surprisingly stable for a long period of time. If you want Lorem Ipsum text that's illegible to a modern English-speaker, you need to go a lot further back than John Milton.

And, incidentally: try Paradise Lost. It's interesting both historically, culturally, and in and of itself, entertaining, and if you weren't convinced by my claims of legibility ("High on a throne of royal state which far. Outshon the wealth of ormus and of ind... what is this stuff?") Isaac Asimov's Annotated Paradise Lost provides helpful vocabulary and metaphor references, as well as the rather interesting story behind its writing (short version: 2008 was not the first time a government changeover caused the religious right to flame out, although Milton was a far, far better writer than Rush Limbaugh is). 


A friend of mine from university called it "biblical fanfic", which is just about right, but it's very very good fanfic. Give Paradise Lost a try.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Lorem Ipsum

This is my blog, with which I hope to entertain and edify the world. The current blog subjects are"whatever I feel like" and the schedule is "whenever I have time". Which of course makes it no different from half the other blogs on the internet, but with any luck it should prove to be interesting. For lack of a better first subject, I'm going to write about... blogging, which probably sets some kind of a fourth-wall-busting speed record.

One of the things involved in making a blog on this site (Blogger) is creating a "theme" (eg, shape and colour scheme of the page). You can make your own if you have the html skills, but it also conveniently provides a couple of premade themes that you can choose from if you're too unskilled and/or lazy to bother making one yourself. (The fact that pretty much any randomly chose blog will use one of the out-of-the-box themes probably says... something.) Anyways, here's the choose-a-sample page:


The theme options are all illustrated, with some sample posts and text. What sample posts and text? Well, if we blow the Sand Dollar theme (the one I'm currently using) up really large, we get

Sample Blog, My Profile, and some posts consisting of... gibberish. Latin gibberish. Actually, if you know Latin, you'll realize it's gibberish there too: it's a couple of posts full of pseudo-Latin gibberish (with a little Pig Latin thrown in). Which is... pretty weird, when you think about it. Why the nonsense?

Well, the answer is a couple of centuries old. Back in the day - the day, in this case, being "since the invention of typography" - a popular way of showing off new typefaces was with sample sentences: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ being a popular one, of course, but others - like the famous "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog" - were used as well. The obvious benefit of these is that, since the hypothetical typeface customer is interested only in what the font looks like and not what any particular piece of text looks like in it, you can get away with using nonsense text like the above to show it off. (The quick brown fox has the slight advantage that it looks a little more like actual text than the alphabet, and so demonstrates the legibility of the font a little more.)

Related to this problem is the problem of page design. If you want to show off your typesetting skills, you can make a similar sample page with your headings and columns and paragraphs and so forth. The problem with this is you need something a little more text-like than just the alphabet or the quick brown fox. (Look at the famous "all work and no play" scene from The Shining - even before you can read it, the weird repetitive patterns in the text give away that it's not real writing.) But at the same time you don't want the reader to be distracted reading actual text - you want him concentrating on your layout. So back around 1500 or so, someone took a chunk of Cicero's finibus bonorum et malorum, grabbed about every every third syllable, and created a piece of pseudo-text, beginning "lorem ipsum dolores sit amet" that resembled real text pretty closely but made no sense whatsoever, even to people who knew Latin. (Insert Alan Sokal joke here.)

This sample text hung around for a couple of hundred years as exactly that: a spacefiller text used for typsetting examples, or occasionally just for filling space.


In the 1960s and 70s, as computer typesetting came into its own, lorem ipsum remained popular - just because you're typesetting by computer rather than by hand doesn't change its marketing needs - and then in the 1990s it got another big boost with the arrival of web design companies. Selling your web design skills is, at some level, a lot like selling your typesetting: you have to show off the design without distracting the user with, well, actual text.


So lorem ipsum moved smoothly into the net age and has remained there to this day. (See also.) Which is why the layout for the blog themes on Blogger are full of pseudo-Latin.

Well, probably. The thumbnails are a little small to make out more than the titles and a very little of the text, but fortunately you can look at the actual preview and see...


Something entirely different: English. More on this next time.