The easiest technologies to understand on an intuitive-emotional basis seem to be those that involve physical processes. Objects rotating, moving, being lifted and displaced, compressed, crushed. Gases and liquids being sent around in conduits, mediating force and energy. In short, the technology that has its foundation in classical mechanics.

If these are easy to get a feel for, it would probably be in part because an understanding of mechanical processes has been of use to us throughout history, and also before the advent of civilisation. An intuitive understanding of things such as momentum, acceleration, gravity has no doubt benefited mankind and its ancestors for a very long time.

It gets trickier when we get to the more recent technologies. Take electricity to be an arbitrary watershed. We have no intuitive idea of what electricity is, apart from the fact we might be afraid of thunder. Electricity has to be taught through the abstract idea of electrons flowing in conduits, a bit like water in pipes (to name one of many images being used).

And then there’s analog and digital electronics, integrated circuits, semiconductors and so on, where intuition has long ago been left behind. We are forced to approach these things in a purely abstract domain.

Yet, when our Mp3 players, game consoles, mobile phones and computers do things for us, we are left with a sense of wonder. Our minds, always looking for stories and explanations, want to associate the impressive effects produced by these devices with some stimuli. With a steam engine, it’s easy to associate the energy with pressure, heat and motion, all of which are well understood on a low level. With a mobile phone, not so much. A lot of very abstract stories have to be used in order to reach anything that resembles an explanation, and still it doesn’t reach the essence of the device, which might be in its interplay between radio transceivers, sound codec chips, a display with a user interface and software to drive it, a central CPU, and so on, together with, of course, the network of physical antennas and their connectivity with other such networks. Is it too much to suppose that the human mind often stops short of the true explanation here? That we associate the effects produced by the device with what we can touch, smell, see and hear?

This is of course the point where many computer geeks worldwide start to feel a certain affection for the materials that make up the machines. Suppose that we are in the 1980′s. Green text on a black terminal background. A particular kind of fixed width font. The clicking of the keyboard. The dull grey plastic used to make the case. All of these things can acquire a lot of meaning that they don’t really have, because the users lack a window (physical and emotional) into the essence of the machine. The ultimate “disconnected machine”, to relate to my field, is software.

This brings up questions such as: how far can we as a species proceed with technology that we cannot understand instinctively, how can we teach such technology meaningfully and include it in democratic debate, and how can we use people’s tendencies to associate sensory stimuli with meaning and effects in a more meaningful way? – for instance, when we design hardware and software interfaces.

Recently I watched a friend give a presentation on a research topic he’s been working on for years. I found the presentation to be fascinating, and the clearest explanation of his work that I have seen to date. But I felt compelled to criticise him on one point.

In order to lighten up the speech a bit, he had chosen to include characters from a popular science fiction movie on every other slide, using them to explain the results he had attained in theoretical computer science. The link between the characters and the results was nearly non-existent; the pictures were clearly only there to lighten the presentation up a bit. I had been irritated by people’s tendency to do these things for some time, so I decided to point it out. One extreme example of this tendency gone too far occurred recently in a presentation about the database CouchDB – readers can Google for the slides to see the full controversy, though they are somewhat NSFW. (I don’t want to make moral judgments in this context, but I think the academic/professional domain can be kept free of these controversies. Save those battles for where they belong!)

So there’s a tendency for people to sugarcoat their presentation topic sometimes. The arguments in favor of doing this are that it can lighten an intrinsically heavy subject a lot, and save people from nearly falling asleep from compounded boredom (such as a conference where 30+ presentations about results in theoretical computer science are given). Essentially it mixes in some sugar with the sour stuff, yielding what might be called a sweet and sour talk. The medicine becomes easier to swallow.

But isn’t there something essentially contradictory about mixing contemporary pop culture so freely with results that, in this case, were about essentially pure mathematical theory? For one thing it takes the essentially perennial and debases it, linking it up with images that are hopelessly stuck in a short timeframe. For another, it can be seen a vote of non-confidence in your own ideas. It can be seen as saying “I know this is boring and useless to you, so please bear with me, and look at these amusing pictures until it’s over.” I’m not a good presenter, but in order to become one, I think I need to have sufficient confidence in my ideas to present them unsweetened unless the circumstances are extreme. I need to make my audience see the value in my ideas. Also, it’s quite different if the sugar coating is of the kind that helps people get into your idea, or if it’s the kind that just distracts (this case).

My view is therefore that one should use one’s lumps of sugar with restraint. Maybe a situation where this is called for is when the audience necessarily contains some people who are on the level that you need to be talking to, and many other people who are not on that level, and cannot possibly be brought up to it. In this situation, the sugar might be used to keep the second group somewhat alive and alert. And this is in fact the kind of situation my friend wrote the presentation for originally. So, no scorn on him, just a word of warning to the general public!

I’ve seen similar services before (related to swine flu, etc), but this one lets you break down the data by disease and even by symptoms.

Asahi Shinbun mentions it in an article (Japanese).