A post about something I know little about

One of the questions I like to pose in my classes is “how do you know?”  Doing analysis of data and possible decision leads to lots of wild speculation, and this question sometimes brings us back to recognizing that widely held theories are actually quite tenuous.  One observation can bring down a whole theory, a “black swan” event.  I like to use examples from physics, even though I am not a physicist, because I find that students often think that we “know” stuff there.  Science is settled, even if other areas are not.

Here is an interesting (to me) article about measuring light and comparing the measurements to accepted physical theories.  At the end, something to think about:

There’s also a possibility that the explanation could be even more far-reaching, such as that the universe is not expanding and that the big bang theory is wrong.

How certain are you of the things you know?

Costs and risks

The “Top Gear” guy had a nice rant in the Times Online about laws to mitigate risks.  Can we think of a way to connect the risk with the costs?  Suppose that we could eliminate a risk entirely if everyone just paid a small price.  Think polio, for example.  Well, then what about this risk, or that risk.  Surely the same solution applies, right?  As Jeremy points out, we all take our shoes off at the airport now, so the terrorists decided to use their underwear.  What will we have to do now, if risk elimination is the goal.

Or are there risks that we just have to live with?  Where do we draw the line?  Can we use probabilities and decision analysis to help make policies a little more bearable?

When is an average or not an average?

First, I have not followed up on the reference in this Instapundit blog post, so I do not know whether this is really the way the British Met Office really computes average temperatures:

In fact, the Met still asserts we are in the midst of an unusually warm winter — as one of its staffers sniffily protested in an internet posting to a newspaper last week: “This will be the warmest winter in living memory, the data has already been recorded. For your information, we take the highest 15 readings between November and March and then produce an average. As November was a very seasonally warm month, then all the data will come from those readings.”

But suppose for a minute that an average for a whole season (year) really is fifteen days, and that the highest fifteen all (most) came from November. Would that really represent the average for the winter? Can you think about why they would not use every day’s reading from November through March? Should they use just the high for the day, or the high and the low for each day? And where should the reading come from? How many locations around England would be enough for what would seem like a good average calculation? What if averages in the past were computed differently? Could you make comparisons?

Average seems like such an easy concept – but it often is quite tricky. To say nothing about trying to understand the variability of temperatures (do they compute standard deviations?)

For example, the fifteen day record could occur in a season where the other one hundred and thirty five days were pretty cold…

Something a bit different

Most of the posts here are about what I do in the classroom, mostly geek stuff. But I am also a Christian who believes God plays an active role in my life. I have experienced too much to doubt this.

But it is also true that as a professor, there is a dynamic that I have to be careful about with students. Since I have the rights to assign grades, I try to be careful not to make students feel that their beliefs might impact their grades. I work with students from too many different backgrounds and I never want them to worry that their faith will be an issue with me.

On the other hand, I also try not to hide my Christian beliefs, and the way that affects how I live my life and treat others.

The dust-up over Brit Hume’s comments about Tiger Woods at first seemed to be the kind of thing I sometimes worry about: how can a Christian tell a Buddhist what to do?

This article from Michael Gerson in the Washington Post is a great way of thinking about this (I think). In the absence of coercive power, why wouldn’t someone offer a life preserver that worked for them to another person in pain?

UPDATE: Brit’s comments.

What do we know?

I am naturally somewhat of a skeptic, but it is hard to not read something and think about how smart the scientists are, and how much they know, and what will soon be possible. One of the things that is really interesting is brain research. Suppose we could know how we work?

All kinds of new tools allow researchers to “watch” your brain work. Or can they? How do they “know”?

Here some interesting reading about the difficulties in measuring, knowing and statistics.

Here is another that makes you think twice when we assume that science is a clean process that follows a straight line to the truth, getting it right along the way.

And here’s a cartoon view of how this works (or doesn’t work).