The Flickering of The Candle [PDF]

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The Flickering of the Candle



“When you get home from class tonight,” the professor told his students at the end of the first class of his undergraduate course in research methods, “I would like you to conduct an experiment. Treat yourself to a glass of wine, or a beer, or whatever helps you relax. Put some rhythmic music on the stereo, classical or jazz or rock, whatever you enjoy. Plug in a set of earphones and turn off the loud speakers. Light a candle and place it on a table about a meter in front of a comfort able chair. Sit down in the chair, put on the earphones, close your eyes, listen to the music, and relax for a few minutes. Then, open your eyes and see if the flickering of the candle flame keeps time to the music. Please be ready to report your observations in class next week.”



The next week in class, the students were all abuzz. “Gee, Professor, it’s crazy, but you were right! The candle flame keeps time to the music! Not all the time, but it happened fairly consistently. I saw it!” they chorused. “But how could that happen?” another quipped. “I was wearing earphones, and there was no sound coming from the speakers. There was no acoustical connection between the sound and the flame!” But of course, some said, “Nonsense. There was no correlation between the flickering of the candle and the music rhythms. That’s impossible.” But most of them saw it. The professor let them rant for a few minutes. Then, when everyone finally quieted down, he spoke up. “How many of you observed the candle flame keep time to the music?” About 15 of the 20 students raised their hands. “And how many of you observed no apparent correlation?” The hands of the other 5 students shot up. “How many of you carefully followed the experiment protocol I gave you?” All 20 hands came up. “And how many of you are telling the truth about your observations to the best of your ability?” Again, 20 hands. “So, may we conclude,” asked the professor, “that 15 of the candles kept time to the music, and 5 did not?” There was a moment of silence while the students considered this possible conclusion. “I guess so,” said one student, “but how did it happen? And why didn’t it happen consistently?” “Well,” said the professor, “let’s look at the conditions that governed this experiment. First, each of you used a different candle. Maybe some kinds of candles work, and others don’t. Second, each



of you was in a different room with different lighting conditions. Maybe the candle needs to be in a particular lighting condition to react to the music. (Some eyebrows went up on that one.) Third, each of you probably chose a different kind of music: Mozart, Al Jarreau, Hootie & The Blowfish, or whatever. Maybe different candles prefer different kinds of music. (Audible groans could now be heard in the classroom.) Fourth . . .” “Maybe it wasn’t the candle,” interrupted Jack, one of the students. “I saw the candle flickering in time with the music, but maybe my eyes were flickering, not the candle. Or something like that.” Some others in the class harrumphed. “Or maybe I just imagined it was flickering, but it really wasn’t.” “No,” said a classmate, Bill. “I didn’t imagine it. I saw it.” “Well,” Jack responded, “if you did just imagine it, you wouldn’t know whether it was real or imagined. It would seem real either way.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. Maybe you imagined it. I know what I saw,” countered Bill. It was time for the professor to interrupt this exchange, which sounded like something straight out of the Middle Ages, and the means for settling intellectual disputes at that time were not pretty. “Let’s get back to the original question: how come 15 of the candles kept time to the music, and 5 did not?” “I think the question is wrong,” ventured Jack. “Oh,” said the professor. “So you think your esteemed professor posed an ill-posed question, eh, Jack?” The students laughed nervously, and Bill swung around to shake his finger at Jack. “Yes, sir . . . no offense,” said Jack. “None taken. So, how should the question be posed?” “Maybe. . . . How come 15 of us saw the candle keep time to the music, and 5 did not?” “That’s the same as the question the professor asked, dude,” said Bill. “No, he asked how come the candle flickered. I asked how come we saw the candle flickering.” “Psycho-babble,” said Bill. “If I saw it, it happened,” he grumbled. “I am absolutely convinced that you saw the candle flickering, Bill,” said the professor. “I have no doubt that all of you have reported your observations faithfully. However, Jack may be right to reword the question. Understand that the brain is a massive computer that intercedes itself between your sensors, your eyes, and your conscious thoughts. A lot is going on beneath the surface that we are not aware of, and as the image of the candle makes its way from your eyes through your brain to your conscious thoughts, a lot can happen. A lot of pro- cessing takes place. All of us know firsthand how computers can screw up because their programs have bugs in them. Brains are no different.”



“Are you telling us that we have bugs in our brains, professor?” asked Bill. “Perhaps ‘bats in your belfry’ is a more appropriate expression, Bill,” said the professor with a grin. The class, including Bill, laughed good-naturedly. “So that’s the answer?” asked another student. “It was all in our imagination?” “No,” said the professor. “We don’t know that, Jane. It simply means that, as good researchers, we have to admit to that possibility. We have to understand that the task method that all of you applied is not objective and probably biased.” “Well, if we were biased during this experiment, where did the bias come from?” Jane asked. “Were we born with it? Did it come from our upbringing? Should we blame our parents?” “No,” the professor laughed. “It’s much simpler in this case, Jane. You can blame me. I instilled this bias in you, intentionally. Mea culpa.” “When?” “When I first described the experiment protocol last week. If you recall, I told you what to expect. I told you to watch and see if the candle flickered in time to the music. And guess what? You saw it! Like good students, you dutifully saw what your professor told you to see. That’s called a self-fulfilling prophecy.” “Now, wait a minute, sir,” said Bill. “I wasn’t influenced by your remark. I know that objectivity is important for a good scientist.” “With all due respect, Bill, by definition you cannot know what goes on in your subconscious mind. I am pleased that you consider objectivity a critical criterion for the acquisition of knowledge. But like all the rest of us, you are influenced by unconscious motivations. This is not speculation on my part. There have been many, many carefully devised experiments that have confirmed the impact of unconscious biases on the behavior of humans and other intelligent animals.” “Then, how should you have described the experiment protocol to avoid biasing us with an expectation?”Jane asked. “Why don’t you give it a try, Jane,” suggested the professor. “Well, let’s see. Put some music on the stereo, light the candle, sit down in the chair, and so forth, and then watch the candle . . . uh . . . to see if. . . uh. . . .” Jane’s voice faltered as she searched for the right way to phrase it. “How can you word the protocol so that you don’t give the goal away, but still make sure the subject knows what to do?” “Tricky, isn’t it?” said the professor, eyebrows arched. “If you can’t tell the subject to watch the candle, how is he supposed to know what to do?” Bill mused, finally realizing that the problem was more com plicated than he had first thought.



“To begin with, the person watching the candle is not the subject,” responded the professor. “The focus of the experiment, which is called the task unit, is the candle, not the person watching the candle. The person is simply the sensor, whose function is to acquire the data necessary to compute the correlation between the rhythm of the music and the flickering of the candle. One possible solution, then, is to use an electronic sensor and get the human out of the exper iment entirely. The development of a vast array of mechanical and electronic sensors over the last two or three hundred years has allowed us to eliminate much of the bias resulting from the subjective interpretations of humans. That has been one of the most important contributions to research in science and engineering since the Scientific Revolution of the eighteenth century. ” “What kind of sensors would you use to replace the human eye and ear?” asked one of the class members. “A video camera and a microphone might work. After acquiring the data, we would have to find a way to measure the periodicity of the flickering flame in the video images, and to measure the beat of the music on the audio track. If we could do that, then a simple correlation computation would tell us whether we can validate the hypothesis that the flame is at least partly synchronized with the music. In other words, that a non-zero correlation could not be attributed to chance.” “I’ve studied a little bit of electrical engineering, professor, and I think measuring the periodicity of the flame’s flicker and the music’s beat would be very difficult,” said Jack. “Isolating the principal periodic components of the flicker and the beat of the music is not straightforward. That’s pretty highlevel information.” “You know, when it comes right down to it, this seems to be a very difficult experiment to design and conduct properly,” said Jane. The professor nodded. “Planning and conducting rigorous research and development projects in science and engineering is often very challenging.”