Problems and their Solvers (2015-03-29) --------------------------------------- CUPE 3902, the union representing teaching assistants and course instructors at UoT, was on strike for most of the last month. As I was trying to figure out how I felt about the strike, trying to figure out who I sided with, I spent a lot of time thinking about what "problems" are and how we ought to go about solving them. Most of the struggle surrounding the strike was, for me, a jumble of delicate and inter-linked issues about how I relate to people, money, and academia. It made me realize that the kinds of problems we're used to working with really affects our approach to all problems, big and small, that we run in to. I'd like to say a little bit about the connection between problems and the people who try to solve them. I come from a very specific problem solving context: I'm a mathematician. I like two player strategic board games. I work with quantitative problems. I care about coarse estimates and asymptotic behaviour. All these factors combined to make me uniquely unable to grapple with politics. There is something unique to the kind of problem solving that happens in mathematics that makes its problem solvers especially weak in dealing with large complex political situations. I'll try to sketch the way that I think about my background and then discuss how this carries over to politics. Firstly, mathematicians tend to work alone. I'm always in favour of a lively mathematical collaboration, a dialogue, but I have to acknowledge that mostly mathematics is a solitare game. There is a lot to be learned from talking to other mathematicians but a lot of mathematics is done alone. We try to take the established theory and use it for new things. This requires a lot of digestion of theory which is best done alone, slowly piecing things together. We sit down at our computers and try to write down what we think is right. We're not quite sure, even though we wrote it. We try again. And again, until things start to click. This all happens alone, after the interesting conversations are over and we're back at our desks. We think about a subject until it becomes easy. We grasp on to it and mull it over, testing the known theory on it, until it all dissolves and we're left with something that is very simple. If there is some knotty difficult bit we smooth that out, taking it apart and re-assembling it until it becomes tractable. If something seems so intractably complicated that we can't understand it, we tend to leave it for others (more often than not, no one) to grapple with. Those problems which are just barely tractible using known theory are the kinds of things mathematicians like to play with. For a couple of years I was obsessed with playing games. I love games, game design, and game theory. My favourite kinds of games are those that are played using definite rules, where you know everything about the game situation at any moment, and there is no chance. Consequently, I think of things in those terms. When I am trying to decide what to do in a given context, in a game or real life, I tend to think in terms of 'moves'. What's the best move here? What'll they do if I play this particular move? I implicitly assume that everyone is playing by the same rules, and has the same goals as me. But there are certain kinds of goals that are specific to me. The kind of problems that I work on are about numbers and their long term behaviour. Will this sequence of numbers outgrow this other sequence of numbers? If I measure this one thing, is that the same as measuring this other thing? --- A parable: Once a wise man wanted to know what the most useful thing in the world is. He went to many people and asked them, venturinng near and far to find out. When he encountered a roofer, the roofer told him a hammer. A lumber jack told him an ax is certainly the most useful thing. A survery told him that a transit is indeed the most helpful apparartus. The wise man concluded that the most useful tool is the one you need to use for the job that you're doing.