At the end of my last post, I talked about Brian Cantwell Smith’s idea of ‘the middle distance’ – an intermediate space between complete causal disconnectedness and rigid causal coupling. I was already vaguely aware of this idea from a helpful exchange somewhere in the bowels of a Meaningness comments section but hadn’t quite grasped its importance (the whole thread is worth reading, but I’m thinking about the bit starting here). Then I blundered into my own clumsy restatement of the idea while thinking about cognitive decoupling, and finally saw the point. So I started reading On the Origin of Objects.
It’s a difficult book, with a lot more metaphysics than I realised I was signing up for, and this ‘middle distance’ idea is only a small part of a very complex, densely interconnected argument that that I don’t understand at all well and am not even going to attempt to explain. But the examples Smith uses to illustrate the idea are very accessible without the rest of the machinery of the book, and helpful on their own.
I was also surprised by how little I could find online – searching for e.g. “brian cantwell smith” “middle distance” turns up lots of direct references to On The Origin of Objects, and a couple of reviews, but not much in the way of secondary commentary explaining the term. You pretty much have to just go and read the whole book. So I thought it was worth making a post that just extracted these three examples out.
Example 1: Super-sunflowers
Smith’s first example is fanciful but intended to quickly give the flavour of the idea:
… imagine that a species of “super-sunflower” develops in California to grow in the presence of large redwoods. Suppose that ordinary sunflowers move heliotropically, as the myth would have it, but that they stop or even droop when the sun goes behind a tree. Once the sun re-emerges, they can once again be effectively driven by the direction of the incident rays, lifting up their faces, and reorienting to the new position. But this takes time. Super-sunflowers perform the following trick: even when the sun disappears, they continue to rotate at approximately the requisite ¼° per minute, so that the super-sunflowers are more nearly oriented to the light when the sun appears.
A normal sunflower is directly coupled to the movement of the sun. This is analogous to simple feedback systems like, for example, the bimetallic strip in a thermostat, which curls when the strip is heated and one side expands more than the other. In some weak sense, the curve of the bimetallic strip ‘represents’ the change in temperature. But the coupling is so direct that calling it ‘representation’ is dragging in more intentional language that we need. It’s just a load of physics.
The super-sunflower brings in a new ingredient: it carries on attempting to track the sun even when they’re out of direct causal contact. Smith argues that this disconnected tracking is the (sunflower) seed that genuine intentionality grows from. We are now on the way to something that can really be said to ‘represent’ the movement of the sun:
This behaviour, which I will call “non-effective tracking”, is no less than the forerunner of semantics: a very simple form of effect-transcending coordination in some way essential to the overall existence or well-being of the constituted system.
Example 2: Error checking
Now for a more realistic example. Consider the following simple error-checking system:
There’s a 32 bit word that we want to send, but we want to be sure that it’s been transmitted correctly. So we also send a 6-bit ‘check code’ containing the number of ones (19 of them in this instance, or 010011 in binary). If these don’t match, we know something’s gone wrong.
Obviously, we want the 6-bit code to stay coordinated with the 32-bit word for the whole storage period, and not just randomly change to some other count of ones, or it’s useless. Less obviously (“because it is such a basic assumption underlying the whole situation that we do not tend to think about it explicitly”), we don’t want the 6-bit code to invariably be correlated to the 32-bit word, so that a change in the word always changes the code. Otherwise we couldn’t do error checking at all! If a cosmic ray flips one of the bits in the word, we want the code to remain intact, so we can use it to detect the error. So again we have this ‘middle distance’ between direct coupling and irrelevance.
Example 3: File caches
One final real-world example: file caches. We want the data stored in the cache to be similar to the real data, or it’s not going to be much of a cache. At the same time, though, if we make everything exactly the same as the original data store, it’s going to take exactly as long to access the cache as it is to access the original data, so that it’s no longer really a cache.
Flex and slop
In all these examples, it’s important that the ‘representing’ system tries to stay coordinated with the distant ‘represented’ system while they’re out of direct contact. The super-sunflower keeps turning, the check code maintains its count of ones, the file cache maintains the data that was previously written to it:
In all these situations, what starts out as effectively coupled is gradually pulled apart, but separated in such a way as to honor a non-effective long-distance coordination condition, leading eventually to effective reconnection or reconciliation.
For this to be possible, the world needs to be able to support the right level of separation:
The world is fundamentally characterized by an underlying flex or slop – a kind of slack or ‘play’ that allows some bits to move about or adjust without much influencing, and without being much influenced by, other bits. Thus we can play jazz in Helsinki, as loud as we please, without troubling the Trappists in Montana. Moths can fly into the night with only a minimal expenditure of energy, because they have to rearrange only a tiny fraction of the world’s mass. An idea can erupt in Los Angeles, turn into a project, capture the fancy of hundreds of people, and later subside, never to be heard of again, all without having any impact whatsoever on the goings-on in New York.
This slop makes causal disconnection possible – ‘subjects’ can rearrange the representation independently of the ‘objects’ being represented. (This is what makes computation ‘cheap’ – we can rearrange some bits without having to also rearrange some big object elsewhere that they are supposed to represent some aspect of.) To make the point, Smith compares this with two imaginary worlds where this sort of ‘middle distance’ representation couldn’t get started. The first world consists of nothing but a huge assemblage of interlocking gears that turn together exactly without slipping, all at the same time. In this world, there is no slop at all, so nothing can ever get out of causal contact with anything else. You could maybe say that one cog ‘represents’ another cog, but really everything is just like the thermostat, too directly coupled to count interestingly as a representation. The second world is just a bunch of particles drifting in the void without interaction. This has gone beyond slop into complete irrelevance. Nothing is connected enough to have any kind of structural relation to anything else.
The three examples given above – file caches, error checking and the super-sunflower – are really only one step up from the thermostat, too simple to have anything much like genuine ‘intentional content’. The tracking behaviour of the representing object is too simple – the super-sunflower just moves across the sky, and the file cache and check code just sit there unchanged. Smith acknowledges this, and says that the exchange between ‘representer’ and ‘represented’ has to have a lot more structure, with alternating patterns of being in and out of causal contact, and some other ‘stabilisation’ patterns that I don’t really understand, that somehow help to individuate the two as separate objects. At this point, the concrete examples run completely dry, and I get lost in some complicated argument about ‘patterns of cross-cutting extension’ which I haven’t managed to disentangle yet. The basic idea illustrated by the three examples was new to me, though, and worth having on its own.