A ponzi scheme is a classic scam that despite being guaranteed to collapse continues to work and leave people penniless. It goes something like this. John tells Jane that he has a fantastic money making opportunity. If Jane invests she will get an annual return on that investment of 20%. Wow! Jane invests and sure enough next year she gets a payment of 20% of her original investment. Other people hear about her success and sign up. Soon John has many investors and a large amount of money in circulation. But none of that money was ever invested.
The second person that signed up to John’s scheme was Jack. John simply took 20% of Jack’s money and gave it to Jane. The rest he pocketed (and most probably promptly spent). Just like he pocketed Jane’s money. Of the third person’s money, John took 20% for Jane and 20% for Jack. The fourth person’s money paid the 20% of the first three. And so on, until John is unable to recruit enough new people to pay the returns of the current list of ‘clients’. There’s a short delay during which John avoids calls, perhaps changes address and if he’s sensible hires a good lawyer (with whatever money is left). Then the whole system collapses in on itself. Well, that’s the basics. Real life ponzi schemes can be much more complicated than that. But they all work on the same principles. Why they work, why people get sucked in and lose perhaps everything they have, are very interesting questions. Questions that get asked quite a lot since Bernie Madoff. If you rip people off to the tune of $18 billion dollars I guess that will make the news for some time. Continue reading
It’s a reasonable question. If I tell you that I work at the Institute for Complex Systems Simulation, then you may ask what is a complex system. I don’t think there is a definitive answer (so it’s pretty mean of us to ask PhD candidates this in their interview). I would say it’s a perspective or an approach to systems that traditionally have been hard to understand. Here, let me show you what I mean (this really works well full screen and with the sound up):
That is a complex system in which the interaction of individuals (birds) that follow three simple rules (try not to get too far away from your neighbours, but don’t get too close and try to go in the same general direction) can produce emergent behaviour that would not be predicted by analysing those simple rules alone. It also happens to be incredibly beautiful and captures a central element of what we can find so awe inspiring about nature. Much like biological evolution, a complex system seems to be able to continually generate complicated, interacting, dynamical patterns. In fact, the evolution of life on Earth, the process that produced hummingbirds and whales, worms and giant redwoods may be understood as a planetary scale complex system. Continue reading
Two of my favourite short videos
They make me laugh every time I watch them and something tremendously profound seems to emerge when veiwed together.
I spend most of my time doubting what it is that I’m doing. Most? Pretty much all of my time. Much is made of doubt in science. The deep mystery of the universe. Peering into the unkown.
I’m not talking about that sort of doubt. No, I’m talking about the fact that nearly every day I have the continual feeling that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Feyman talks very eloquently about doubt and ignorance in science. The forever frustration in trying to understand the rules of the game that nature is playing. I don’t even know what game I’m looking at most of the time. Every now and again the crowd cheer and some people move about or swap places. Something significant has happened I conclude. Then it’s back to white noise.
The reasons for this are (mainly) twofold. First and foremost I’m not very smart. I wish I was. But there it is and that’s how it goes. I’ve just got to get on with it. Second, I do ‘multidisciplinary’ research. I spend a lot of my time talking to people who really do know things. And who are also smart. There’s a wonderful passage in an E. O. Wilson book (title escapes me) in which he describes crouching down at the edge of a tropical rain forest, looking at a small wolf spider. Staring into its tiny, unblinking eyes he considers how little we know about this particular species and how he could happily imagine spending many years or decades discovering how it moves, hunts, breeds and makes its living among the giant trees.
I appreciate this sort of scientific obsession. To continually learn more about something and so fill in more of the blanks. The ability to write a richer story about some little facet of nature. But try as I might (and OK, I haven’t tried that hard) I always seem to get distracted by something else. Sometimes it’s not the something else per se, but that way that this new thing may interact with some other things.
I used to play a game as a child. I’m sure many others played/play this sort of game too. You name two different things. Then you connect them by telling a story. Telephone and conkers. Blanket and abseil. Points awarded to the best fabulist. If you’re not careful, you can see connections everywhere. That’s a common feature of conspiracy theories. But doubt should limit the sort of epistemological damage that unconstrainted connections can do.
If I want to study connections and their system properties then I’m doomed to a life of doubt. But I always hold out for those moments when I make out the cheers and shouts, a pattern emerges and I feel I’ve learnt something.