The Observer Effect
Can You Hear Me Now?
Here’s a rather timeless question: If a tree falls in a lonely forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? This issue has engaged philosophers for centuries and has given rise to considerable scholarly debate.
Lately I have begun to wonder whether the internet has produced a modern version of a similar philosophical problem, specifically with regard to blogging. If a person writes essays that remain virtually unread, does the blog really exist?
One might imagine that such a question could be addressed, at least somewhat marginally, with data. We live in the age of analytics, after all. Somewhere inside the mysterious machinery of the internet, numbers are quietly crunched: page views, visitor counts, geographic locations, and other tidy bits of data gradually accumulate in the background. Naturally, I occasionally check the available statistics here on Musings.
What I find here can best be described as modest evidence of human life. Sometimes one of my posts appears to have attracted three visitors. Two of those visits are almost certainly me, returning to see whether a typo escaped my notice before I published. The third might represent an actual reader. Or possibly a search engine robot conducting routine surveillance of the digital landscape.
But every now and then the analytics reveal something more mysterious. A recent visitor with an IP address from the Seychelles, for example. I try to imagine this person: someone on a small island in the Indian Ocean who has paused long enough to read a reflective essay about time, memory, or late-life philosophy written by a retired higher-ed guy in Oregon. It is a pleasant thought. Unfortunately, of course, it is most likely a bot.
These observations suggest that the deeper philosophical issue may lie elsewhere. René Descartes famously attempted to anchor human existence in a single undeniable truth: Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. The act of thinking itself confirmed the existence of the thinker.
Modern physics introduces yet another wrinkle. In quantum mechanics, the Uncertainty Principle suggests that the act of observation influences what is being observed. At the smallest scales of reality, the observer and the observed become entangled in curious ways. The observer becomes part of the phenomenon.
All of this raises an unsettling possibility for bloggers: perhaps a post does not fully exist until someone reads it.
For the modern blogger, then, a similar formulation might present itself: Scribo, ergo sum. I write, therefore I am.
But writing on the internet introduces a complication Descartes never had to consider. Descartes lived in an era when publishing assumed an audience. In our era, it is entirely possible to write something, place it carefully on a beautifully designed website — yes, I am talking about TechnoMonk’s Musings here — and discover that the universe has responded with a deafening silence.
This raises a subtle question. If writing is placed before the world but no one encounters it, what exactly has occurred? Is the blog an act of communication, or merely a private journal that just happens to possess a URL?
Perhaps the older philosophical puzzle offers a clue. A tree falling in the forest still disturbs the air, shakes the ground, and settles into the soil whether anyone happens to be standing nearby to hear the sound. The event takes place regardless of observation.
So let’s consider this: Writing may work much the same way. Thoughts take shape. Words accumulate. A small archive of a life gradually forms, essay by essay. Whether the audience is large, small, or occasionally located in the Seychelles may be only an incidental matter.
Descartes had certainty: Cogito, ergo sum.
I think, therefore I am.
Physicists have uncertainty; and so do I. Scribo, ergo sum.
I write, therefore I might be?
Whether anyone can hear me now is another question entirely.
Soundtrack Suggestion
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day
(“I Can See Clearly Now” — Johnny Nash)
Creepy Old Photographers
I was roaming around Saturday Market a couple days ago when the boldly-colored sign of an empanada stand caught my eye. After pointing my camera and taking a shot, I was immediately waved off by the owner who was upset that I had not first asked permission. I approached him to have a conversation and, after obligingly deleting the photo, I was informed that just that morning some of the vendors had been advised that there were reports of a "creepy old man” taking photos of women and children at the Market.
Without necessarily trying to defend that person’s behavior (whoever he was), I did inform Michael, the empanada guy, that, in this country, people who are out in public are “fair game” (so to speak) and, in most cases, should not have any expectation of privacy; photographers are not obligated to seek permission, however gentlemanly (and ethically-sound) that behavior may be. As long as the photo is not used commercially, the picture is the property of the photographer to do with it as he/she will. (I actually do carry with me photo-release forms in the off chance that I may want to use a picture for commercial use. See "Photography and the Law" for more info.)
I let him know that it was the striking colors of his sign that attracted me and the reason I took the photo in the first place. It turned out to be a very cordial conversation during which, interestingly, he offered me a free empanada! After our chat ended, and strolling around the Market for a bit longer, I returned to let Michael know that my take-away for the day was that at least one Market vendor had initially pegged me for a “creepy old guy.” Ugh. He then allowed me to take this photo. Thank you, Michael.
Soundtrack Suggestion
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away
(“Kodachrome” — Paul Simon)
A Swift Conversion
It would seem I’m in love again. Well, sorta, anyway. No, I don’t have another significant-other in my life. I don’t know if that will ever happen again. As it turns out, I have recently become rather taken with a young female pop star.
Nope, it’s not Billie Eilish. And I said pop star, so no, it’s not Caitlin Clark either. But both of those would be rather good guesses, as I have, of late, become fans of both.
Perhaps you’ve heard of my new interest: Taylor Swift. Ring a bell? Anybody? Well, I suspect you have, so here’s a little bit of the story.
It wasn’t more that maybe four or five months ago that I mentioned to a friend that this Taylor Swift person sure is in the news a lot these days. I had become more and more aware of her with the furor over The Eras Tour. And of course, this was during the NFL season, so Ms. Swift’s involvement with Kansas City Chiefs’ Travis Kelce was generating quite the buzz. Still, I confessed, despite the apparent fame and fortune of this very popular musician, I could not name even one song of hers. Well, my friend is a grandmother of two pre-adolescent girls so is slightly more contemporary-pop-culture aware than I am in this regard; she indicated that she knew one song: “Shake it Off.” So, for the first time, I watched the music video of that song, and said, “yeah, I guess that’s rather cute.” (It was very well produced, I do admit.)
And then, I went on about my life.
Subsequently, of course, there was all the news about Kansas City getting into the Super Bowl and would Taylor Swift be able to make it to the game, given that she was performing a concert in Japan the night before? Such controversy: holy crap! Well, of course, you probably know that not only did she make it to the game (the perks of having a private jet!), but the Chiefs beat the 49ers in overtime – and the game was watched by an increasingly large female TV audience hoping to catch a glimpse of Taylor in her private stadium suite.
Still, I was amused, but rather unmoved.
But then, things took a turn. At some point a few days ago, someone (sorry, I don’t recall who) on Facebook posted a link to a NPR Tiny Desk Concert. And I watched. This session was recorded over four years ago, in October 2019: showcasing a slightly-younger Taylor (can I now call you by your first name?), without the frills of a music video or the glitter while playing to an arena of tens-of-thousands. She played four tunes as, she said, “how the songs sounded when I first wrote them” (i.e, acoustic versions, two on guitar, two on piano). I had never heard these tunes before, of course, though it now seems obvious, given some further research, that most of the rest of the civilized world has. In the comments section, a 70-year-old guy from Oregon (not me) wrote, “I now see the appeal, the truly evident talent and most of all… the genuineness of her personality, and the deservedness of the accolades she has garnered.”
What especially caught my attention was the final song she performed, entitled, “All Too Well.” Right away, it became obvious that this was what could be definitively called a “breakup song.” Arggghhhhh! It totally socked me in the gut. And I immediately agreed with the person in the comments section, as I said to myself, “ah, now I get it.” She is a truly engaging as a person and writes lyrics that speak deeply to the human experience. No wonder she has the immense following she enjoys.
I love you, Taylor. (Call me.)
(And I still cannot name a single Beyoncé song. Sorry ‘bout that.)
Here is today’s Soundtrack Suggestion:
Birthday Blackmail
So, here I am, age 70. My birthday was two days ago. As some of you may recall, in my 20s I was skeptical that I would ever live past 30. Ah, well, I have never been so wrong!
This essay is simply a little record about the 24-hour-run-up to my birthday. I really do love it when being alive is so darn fun. (And, yes, we live in very interesting times, but this report has nothing to do with a rich, orange-colored bigot who is bent on destroying our democracy.)
On the morning of August 16, I awoke to a rather unusual junk email. It was addressed to one of my legitimate, widely-known email addresses (in fact, the one associated with this blog). The author purported to be writing from Germany and was issuing a blackmail threat. He (I suppose it’s a “he”) said I had 24 hours to come up with $290 in bitcoin and deposit it in his account (a bitcoin wallet address was given). He claimed that a keystroke-logging program had been deposited on my machine, and that he knew a lot about me. So, if I did not forward the funds, the consequences would be an email message to everyone in my contacts (and everyone I was connected to via social media) containing embarrassing video of me recorded with my MacBook Pro camera. So, two things you should know: (1) my computer’s camera has been completely covered up for at least the last couple years; and (2) if you see a suspicious email from/about me, you might think twice about clicking on whatever link is provided. On the other hand, who knows how interesting it may be! (Yes, you guessed it: I have not paid him.)
