Of languages, computer and human

I noticed an interesting difference between humans and computers the other day. I was conversing with a fellow linguist about language and technology and I sort of stumbled upon it.

The progress of language is the same as the progress of computers, but their sources are reversed.

In the days of the early computers, we had vacuum tubes and punch cards for data storage. In order to work, one used a terminal (one of many) connected to an always-running computer. Most everything was done in RAM. Then along came something wonderful: magnetic storage. Now you could much more efficiently store data to be accessed and modified later. As with all things, however, there a few obvious problems. One was capacity and the other was price. Price went down over time, and personal computers became more and more common.

Capacity was another issue. In order to save as much space as possible (i.e. maximize available capacity) and to keep the price down, interfaces didn't progress all that much for a while. Text-based command-line input did wonders, but it proved to be hard for many people to adapt to. There was a significant learning curve. However, the efficiency of these systems was such that they still exist and are in use today. And, the more that commands were predictable and formulaic, the easier things got.

Then, along came a concept called GUI - Graphical User Interface. As storage capacity increased and price went down further, it was much more feasible to run an interface that was easier to use at the expense of it being not as direct or efficient. The reason this trade-off really was important was because it allowed access to not just those familiar with computers, but to those who had never even touched one before. It allowed access to "outsiders," those who weren't a member of the computer-based community. The learning curve dropped. Progress, however, was even more dependent on the increase of storage capacity.

In a related note, as computers become dated, those who are more "tech-savvy" often return to more efficient operating systems to run on their older hardware. Linux is a favorite for many. The reason for this is that you can run new software on these older machines and still have them be usable by decreasing bloat. I, myself, turned an older computer into a server devoid of any GUI. Without the "bloat" of a GUI, it still remains very useful and usable for many things. And, I won't be as affected by software deprecation as I would be if I had left an old operating system running that wasn't updated anymore.

You can see how the progress of personal computers was based on simplification of the user interface, so that others could use them more efficiently, even if they weren't great with the technology. Accessibility came at the cost of dependence on storage. As storage became available and higher and higher capacities, process efficiency became less important for the average user (think today's average user, not 1980's average user.)

The progress of language also works towards increasing accessibility.

Long ago, language was a very difficult thing to grasp. This seems counter-intuitive because language is so fundamental, but it's easier to see when you look towards the number of people who were bi-, tri-, or multi-lingual. Much lower than now. This is because of many reasons, such as the fact that globalism wasn't as high as it is now. This can be easily seen by the biases seen in the Western world and that of early Sanskritic society in India. Greeks took pride in their language, so much so that they deemed anyone who could not speak it to be uncivilized. This definitely carries through time by the concept of "The White Man's Burden." Of course, that particular example is not based solely on language, but I've always found that language and culture tie together so intimately that they almost certainly go together. This is especially true when analyzing one's cultural identity.

When we look to the east, however, we find that multi-lingualism increases. This is in no small way based on the silk routes from the Middle East, through India, to China. The advantage of being multi-lingual is multi-faceted, especially regarding the business world. It was also important because the Middle East, India, and China all retained many subcultures, each with their own language. India today has over 20 official languages, not to mention the many "dialects" of China (most Westerners only know of Cantonese and Mandarin, but there are many more).

Back to the point, another important reason for the reason that multi-lingualism was difficult was that languages had different characteristics than seen those of today. The largest spoken language family is that of the Indo-European branch. These languages were originally highly inflected and word order mattered less. This means that words had many, many different forms based on their use in a sentence. Verbs had many more conjugations than we often see today, and their associated nominal usages also required lots of rearranging. Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit are primary examples here. Lots of word forms and usages. The benefit to this was that it was easier (in many ways) to convey meaning. On the whole, though definitely not always by any means, one could convey more precise information by using fewer words. This was because word endings conveyed the meanings better.

[Important and notable exceptions to this rule are languages in the Sino-Tibetan family, such as the Chinese languages, and other such languages that were not directly or immediately related to or in contact with Indo-European languages.]

Now, growing up and speaking these languages was one thing, and learning them was quite another. Unless you grew up in a place that spoke more than one language, you wouldn't necessarily learn the other language until you were an adult, and learning languages becomes significantly harder after your teens. As a result, speaking more than one language fluently was rarer (moreso in the West, as I stated before) than it is today.

Went you look at an inventory of words of these languages, you may notice that each verb root has many, many different variations, which may or may not be formulaic. You could consider these highly inflected languages to be more "storage" based than Chinese languages or today's languages. As time went on, languages diversified, but started being focused less on nominal cases, simplifying verb tenses and conjugation-groups, and started focusing more on word-order. As a result, you learned more differentiated words and fewer eccentric morphological endings. Now, if you learned fewer words on the whole, you could still convey meaning, albeit with more words in each sentence. Less efficient but much easier to learn for those who weren't so great with languages. Multi-lingualism just got a whole lot easier. Ignore my last statement, because this is slow, steady progress over years and years, but you can understand how and why things changed.

Orthography is important, but in my opinion, didn't matter as much to the average person until the Arabic empire rose to its height. This was the era of copying and preserving, leading up to the invention of the printing press by Gutenburg. Prior to that, writing was important, but not so integral to the learning of language, especially if that language was a second, third, or fourth one.

Another benefit to more formulaic language is that it frees up time to think more abstractly. Language becomes less of a pure inventory, so we're free to remember more. It also requires less attention because we can always add more words to alleviate ambiguity later. This was always true, but is much more apparent now. At least, so I've noticed. Anyway, this way, we're free to multitask better.

So, here we can see a definite change towards accessibility at the (relatively slight) cost of efficiency. However, you may, as I have, noticed a few important differences between this and the progress of computers.

Computers moved from always-on, process-based centralized systems towards individual computers that were more easily accessible because of the presence and development of ever-increasing storage. Language moved away from pure "storage" towards more formulaic usage. It became more "process-friendly" in a way, and this is definitely true when we do consider the entrance of orthography to the mix. Knowledge can be stored and accessed later, but the process of learning (how to read especially) becomes elevated.

The thing about the older languages is that in their earliest forms (Mycenaean Greek, Vedic Sanskrit, and Old Latin), many of these inflections weren't so standardized. There were more exceptions to the rule, and these tended to decrease as time went on, much like the command-line based systems whose predictability eventually became nigh-universal. Another similarity is the context of these. As Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit became liturgical languages, they were standardized much as linux commands were alongside the rising use of Windows and Mac OS. Latin and Greek became used specifically for scientific naming, as well, as Unix and Linux are arguable defaults for high-end servers.

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As technology tries to break the limitation of today's magnetic storage abilities, we should take some time and think about our language. In light of today's post, I challenge you to take the time to read, write, and speak more efficiently, at the cost of speed and time. I guarantee that if you do this for a while, you will gain something from the simple act of moving a little more slowly, along the lines of "Ungeek to Live."

A Technological Monk

Today, I'm going to elaborate on something I've discussed before: why it's important to take time to slow down.

I am a technological monk, a modern monk. I meditate, though not nearly as frequently as I want (or need) to. Truth be told, we have to make time for the things we enjoy, and one of these days I'll get around to working it into a routine or schedule. Until then, however, I make do by slowing down. I adapt the older techniques to a more modern way of life.

The fundamentals of Eastern meditation can be found from the Upanishads down to Patanjali (Deva: पतञ्जलि, pata~njali), who compiled the yoga sutras. Actually, the first line of the yoga sutras is as follows:

अथ योगानुशासनम् ||१||
atha yogaanushaasanam ..1..
Here (अथ) is the continuation (denoted by prefix अनु-) of the teachings (शासनम्) of yoga. This indirectly (though not merely implicitly) shows that the study of yoga had been going on for some time before Patanjali's formal compilation of sutras. While I'm on the subject, here are the next few lines:

योगश्चित्तवृत्ति निरोधः ||२||
तदा द्रष्टुः स्वरूपेऽवस्थानम् ||३||
वृत्तिसारूप्यमितरत्र ||४||

yogashcittavRtti nirodhaH ..2..
tadaa draSTuH svaruupe.vasthaanam ..3..
vRttisaaruupyam itaratra ..4..

"Yoga is the cessation (nirodhaH) of the turnings (vRtti) of the mind (citta).
Then (tadaa), the seer (draSTuH) resides (avasthaanam) in its own true form (svaruupe).
In other cases (elsewise, etc. ; itaratra), the true self (saaruupyam) [identifies with, "is"] the turnings (vRtti)."

What this essentially means is that:

1. The process of "yoga" is when the mind (in actuality, citta is the amalgamation of three components of sense-related consciousness) stops turning or revolving. It stops creating movement.
2. This is a very bold statement. Most people have never experienced this in a waking state, and so the third sutra serves to allay any fears of death.
3. The "seer" (a metaphor for the true inner consciousness) resides in the knowledge of itself.
4. In other cases, this inner consciousness identifies with movements in the mind. This identification is fallacious.

The idea here is that we have consciousness. It cannot be turned off while we are alive. This consciousness is usually focused "outwards," through the mind and its movements, through sensory perception, and out to the world. However, through careful and sustained practice, prayer, and/or raw discipline, one can turn off perception to these "outward" things, including to one's thoughts. Since consciousness cannot be turned off, it insteads reflects back on itself, and this "self-awareness" is the basis for yoga. Mystics find their liberation from the world through this, and despite being a horrid cliché that I hate, I will buckle and say that a Westerner can think of this as "enlightenment."

(Breakdown here is courtesy of my amazing former professor, Dr. Edwin Bryant, and his amazing Yoga Sutras topical study of religion. My explanation and interpretation exists because of what I learned in his classes.)

Relax, I'm getting to the point.

Nowadays, we're brought up to multitask. Multitasking is great, and useful, and is a great skill. But, overdeveloping that ability backfires. We learn to focus first, before we learn to split our attention amongst other things. When we learn to multitask, most of us continue to develop that without fully developing the ability to truly focus on one or two things. We don't have balanced attention.

Meditation works entirely on focus, especially with only one object. I'm not saying that multitasking has absolutely no place in meditation, but unless you're advanced, have another motive, or are a special case, it primarily hinders progress. That's why I don't buy the excuse that absolutely EVERYONE gives: "I just can't focus." Guess what? NO ONE can! It's nothing that doesn't affect everyone else. "Stopping" thought is not easy. You have to work at it, over a long period of time, and with discipline. Really, that statement is pretty much just a poor excuse; either they don't really care about it or don't realize that they have to invest a significant amount of time. Instant gratification really doesn't apply, especially for things considered "ascetic" arts.

At any rate, the fact of the matter is that we're stuck with a better multitasking ability and we're left wanting in terms of singular focus. My good friend Adam pointed out to me recently that an average pack/day smoker gets to have anywhere from forty to an hour and forty minutes of time that could be considered mild meditation. Adam, being ever the resourceful one, takes whatever opportunity he can to do what he refers to as "bullshit meditations." What a great idea! I, myself, do a lot of these b.s. meditations in my daily routines.

As I've said before, taking time to slow down can really have magical effects for some people. Taking time to focus on doing something in the not-so-efficient or not-so-resourceful way can serve a great deal of purposes, including building character-defining traits, forming idiosyncracies that can enrich your life (for yourself), and de-stressing! These habits give you a chance to concentrate your focus on one or two things, which lets you regroup. Many people think that by constantly checking on problems or worrying (essentially bringing things to the forefront of your mind from time to time) "in the background" that they're doing something good. Actually, it's a lot like flicking Alt+Tab; you're flipping through open programs, but just because you're not seeing some of the programs for more than five seconds at a time doesn't mean that they're magically "in the background." You have to let them sit, until they're tossed into the swap partition. This frees up your RAM to do something else, and when you do finally switch back to your other thoughts, they really are "refreshed." From personal experience, I can tell you this is really conducive to the Eureka Effect.

Understandably, modern life differs from ancient life. We can't all just up and leave our jobs and become ascetics or monks; devoting our lives to a method to free ourselves from life doesn't seem to fit the contemporary mood. On the whole, we don't care, and most of us haven't even thought about our own mortality in a truly life-altering way (aside from the fifteen minutes after somebody close to us passes away). However, why should that stop us from utilizing meditation as a quick tool to boost the quality of our lives? It can boost productivity, balance our moods, give us some greater perspective beyond the immediate here & now of our individual lives, and perhaps give us some spiritual insight in the process.

And why shouldn't we recruit the use of technology for this? As a personal example of how I sharpen my focus, I recently started learning the Linux command-line. I've been learning some scripting so that I could do some batch video conversions for my iPod. While in the future I can convert video really easily and without much thought, I spent two to three hours last night trying to get the script to work just right. That was good, solid focus. No multitasking; I wasn't checking torrents, downloading guides, writing this blog post. I was taking things one step at a time and trying to get exactly one thing working. This is just one example of how I take time to work on laser- or flashlight-like focus, instead of a lantern or lightbulb-like focus (a modern take on a very old metaphor). Slowly but surely I am learning some discipline. Actually, I've read numerous articles on the web that highlight research in education techniques. Doing things for shorter periods of time with a more intense focus and doing them daily is generally much more effective than "brute-forcing" something into your head irregularly and for prolonged periods of time. From my varied sources, this is true of meditation. The misconception is that when you sit down to meditate, you sit down for hours at a time until you get it. Beginners hear this and it really turns them away for the idea after trying it. Actually, it is much more effective to try and meditate for maybe a half hour a day for a few weeks, and as it gets more comfortable/familiar/easier, to increase that time. Very similar to many doctors' recommendations for exercise...

This is another junction where we can identify some of our issues by taking a look at our technological practices, and how some of our technological solutions can trickle back into other aspects of our everyday lives. As if I haven't said it enough already, there's no reason we can't still find ancient wisdom in our cutting-edge laptop or bleeding-edge software release. Similar ideas are at play now that were in effect thousands of years ago. And, at least for some things, that's not such a bad idea.

A long way in a short time.

A bedtime post. I thought I'd make a short commentary on technology tonight, in anticipation for the upcoming week.

Technology. Mention it, and the first thing that most of us in the older end of the "internet generation" can think of is, "We've come a long way. I remember when..." Many of the early teens out there probably know a lot about how their older siblings or parents had to deal with 14.4 modems, or how they could get free phone calls with Cap'n Crunch whistles. They probably haven't heard of the Bell Labs stuff, the beginnings of BSD, or vacuum tubes. My friend Casey recently moved out to California and had a professor who had to explain programming with vacuum tubes, and how punch cards worked. Even at (almost) 23 years, I feel old knowing this when so many of my younger peers don't.

The reason is that technology progresses, and at an increasingly more astonishing rate. Blah blah Moore's law, blah blah blah cheaper, blah blah blah blah blah, blah innovation blah.

Now, I'd like to call to attention an article from Lifehacker's Kelly Abbott, entitled "How Zach Braff (and I) Get Thank-You Notes Done." The article explains how both the auther and Zach Braff use an "old-fashioned" (compared to computer, I suppose) typewriter to personalize their own thank-you notes. Kelly Abbott contributes weekly to a series of articles called "Ungeek to Live" at Lifehacker.com. I read it religiously.

In a time where technology improves close to light-speed, it's nice to take some time out and remember to do things slower. Not just remember, but learn how to, and why it's sometimes better to do things in a "dated" manner. I've taken up calligraphy, and I write things in an even more old-fashioned way than standard pen and paper. I've ground my own ink, fixed my own quills, and scratched a lot of paper before I learned how to "paint" words properly, and I still am nowhere near consistent. But talk about letting your emotions unfold! As I write, my hand gives words an incredible character, almost akin to changing fonts at will depending on how I'm feeling whilst I write, automatically. Quick, determined writing is scribbled in print, while poetic thoughts turn out with (attempted) graceful cursives bends. If I'm rushing, afraid, enthused, or bored, it shows up without me even having to. Or, should I so choose, I can make my handwriting appear to be any of those even when I myself am not.

Just an example. It's rewarding to take a step back from fast-paced everything (including progress) now and again. It's a "rebuilding" moment that gives you some room to prepare mentally, so that when you rush in again, you're primed. It has become a science in and of itself, much like a lot of the byproducts of habits in our tech age, like blogging and programming VCRs (if any of you still know what those are). For the first time, I see how new fields, subjects in school, and departments in universities pop up.

So, should you ungeek, or supergeek to live, take a bit of time to consider why the opposite is so important, and spend some time intertwining the two. I think you'll find that together, technology and nontechnology can go well together.

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In retrospect, I should've alluded to the bauhaus again.

And, I realize that "Just an example" should have gone with the previous paragraph, as that would have been more proper. Screw prescriptive tendencies. I like my leftist writing style.