The literature which deals more with that which is true is also more often less clear. That is compared with the literature whose purpose is art or entertainment. Why is that? Is that really intrinsic to the literature of truth? What can be done about it?

 

— 〈  1  〉—

Clarity doesn't hurt. But it also helps less than you might've imagined. No, clarity of speech and thought is not enough. And hope is for those who have no hope: if you think to get the truth about something automatically merely by thinking or speaking very clearly about it you'll probably not get it.

Truth is elusive that way. You'll need to do more than that to glimpse it. And more than that to get it.

Much truth is murky. That something is the truth does not mean it's not murky.

Even in — and especially in — quantitative researches we often find the same — that ``nature does not always use the route that is easy to calculate'' (WHE73).

It's not easy to always describe clearly what has or has not a clear pattern depending on what it is. The result is that the literature of truth often appears less clear compared with the literature of art and power (BLA54). In the literature of art and power all patterns are chosen by the writer.

That writer can make other choices. They can produce a pattern that is more clear. The writer then presents the clear clearly. He can do this easily, because it is easy. He encounters difficulties primarily while creating the choices he will later make.

So the writer of the literature of art and power has no excuse.

His audience does not accept his excuses. They're either aware of his ability to choose, or he is unclear, does not communicate his message, they're not enlightened, they're not entertained, and his art or entertainment is not art and not entertainment.

But too many expect exactly the same from what is only similar.

Art and entertainment create unrealistic expectations in those more familiar with art or entertainment — which is almost everybody — regarding the output of those who communicate the truth. One such expectation is that they must always be able to express the unclear clearly. That is not often possible.

The false idea that what is clear must also be what is true, precisely because it's so clear, emerges from conflating truth with art and entertainment, seeing how they all involve communication, and exist as literature. This argument is that what is not clear is not art or not entertainment because it does not communicate and does not entertain, and therefore what is not clear is not true; and furthermore that what is clear is true, presumably because understood. That presumably because it must have been understood, fully comprehended, in order to be clearly communicated. We can clearly say what is not true; any convincing lie is an example. We can also clearly say what we don't understand. What we don't comprehend and might never comprehend.

 

— 〈  2  〉—

Above and beyond that we formulate how we know what we know and these formulations are some of our tools and using these special tools we go on and learn; and then we know. But how we know what we know is part of what we know (HAR65). So it changes gradually as we learn more.

We learn more. And what we know crosses a threshold.

Then we reconsider how we know what we know. We discard properly some of what we thought is, and reconsider properly some of what considered but thought is not, and then using our improved tools go on and learn and know even more. And this whole process repeats. It should be no surprise then that truth is often murky.

 

— 〈  3  〉—

Another reason we sometimes find a lack of clarity in our truths is that our descriptions are incomplete symbols. We use them, our tools for describing. And using them we improve them — in the same way we improve our tools for knowing. — These are often the same tools — as Humboldt and Dirac and Mumford among others argue. But they are forever incomplete and vague because of what they are.

Existence is a property of events. Truth is a property of descriptions. A description is true if it is a label for events that exist. So truth significantly inherits that incompleteness and vagueness.

So what is is, but we can have difficulty describing it; and we might get mush. True mush, but mush. While this mush remains mush provisionally, sometimes it begins as mush and ends as mush. Other times it begins clear and ends as mush. Which is worse, if we were not also learning new truths besides that one.

 

— 〈  4  〉—

Our intuitional language is mostly sequential. We listen and speak in a manner that is sequential. The precept is soon gone and besides we only have one mouth.

We get stuck in a mental sequential prison; and then our artifacts reflect the design of this prison (SUTH11).

That's why we prefer to think about a sequence of states of the whole system, for whatever system we're considering. Even in programming, or in computer technology. And that even though parts of a system distributed in space and time do not have such a global state. Synchronizing the behavior of their pieces is possible — so they behave as if there was a global state. — Which requires significant additional effort — and produces realizations of algorithms that are least and not most efficient (MEA80, SUTH89, SUTH12).

Meanwhile the universe, all that exists, isn't sequential. Nature, any part of the behavior of the universe, is not really sequential. Our mathematical language is not sequential; but our intuitional language r

And what a concurrent program might do is not always clear or tidy when expressed in a sequential manner.

 

— 〈  5  〉—

A fifth and final reason exists why we sometimes don't always find the truth to be perfectly clear.

Compared with ritual, ``all ceremony consists in the reversal of the obvious'' (CHE04).

We form models of nature and they are often wrong, the exact opposite of what is; that is often the truth. Therefore much of the truth is ceremonial.

 

— 〈  6  〉—

These considerations can also be applied to writing science fiction.

Ultimately that is intimately connected with both the truth and entertainment.

The great trick there is to deliver the truth as a metaphor.

Your are allowed to use a concrete example to stand for the general case.

This gives back more control to the writer.

Consider this as another kind of elliptical writing.

Most satisfying and clear writing is paradoxically also elliptical writing. It produces surprise without surprise and requires middling orienting to the text. So the text captures attention by the need to mentally insert what can be inferred from the text back into the text. This is neither too hard nor too easy. It gives the parts of the mind not processing the meaning something to do; it's produces a kind of game.

The missing pieces capture attention. And there's the pleasant surprise of solving a problem when the suddenly meaning becomes clear. The insight and processing by insight occurs not so much by much or little experience, much or little text to parse or process, but by the sudden observing the parts in context of the function of the whole, the meaning, rather than the whole as the incoherent sum of the parts considered independent of their context, and therefore carrying little meaning. Yet it is the same text. One moment it is the one, and suddenly with the tiniest bit of processing falls into place.

Yet the writing is far more concise. Do not say what the reader already knows or can infer or can find out.

The effect is pleasant. Our brain is primarily pragmatic, trying to solve problems. Everything is a problem to it (JAM07, PRI71).

Indeed this is one of the reasons why words often turn technical content to mush more than it need be mush. The brain only really uses words, which are really kinds of concepts, models of nature, incomplete symbols that are incomplete descriptions or pointers and maps, like all abstractions, as means to solve unconscious or preconscious or conscious problems. Especially because they are tied with preferences; abstracting is discarding what is irrelevant; and that might be taken from cues in the whole problem context, or from our preferences, which say what we take and leave. Yet taking things as means to satisfy wants is acting pragmatically, which has only a tenuous necessary connection with truth, in the form of knowledge being power when there is the opportunity to use it.

Knowledge is readiness to get what you want when you need only select the resources and their pattern of use to get them.

We speak and write and read and think pragmatically. Especially when we think that we do not. More so even when we write that we do not.

The brain primarily uses words only as means to ends, without much regard to truth. Our brain is quite satisfied with a model of nature that works; merely some of us also prefer the model to be true. This is an acquired taste. And much of our brain does not share this taste. We use words in an effective way. But the question is effective for what? Not always the truth.

Our words tell us metal is metal. But metal is not metal. That is true only in a very narrow context not communicated by is and not inherited by any string of is is is.

Not any metal can replace any metal in every context. Not even the same metal. Each word abstracts very much out.

This makes communicating the truth by words something that requires extreme care; and the writer may not have the sensitivity. Or he may not have the time. This may be intrinsic to the words in use in a language. And inherited by members of the same culture. Which is also a technology. A systematic means of getting things done.

Words are however under the control of the writer. Their misuse is capable of correction. So this is a common cause but not a primary reason why nonfiction is more often less clear than fiction.

Too — now that is an interesting and significant word. An important modifier. Like that other word — should — its meaning relates to and varies with a purpose.

Each theory should be simple. Yes: but not too simple. There shouldn't be anything superfluous in it. No superfluous variety in it. The most variety it should have is the least which explains appearances and not anything not suggested by the appearances — explains behavior (NEW87, NEW13). No: strictly even less than that. That variety should also be simpler than the appearances. Theory compresses — and therefore comprehends — the behavior (CHA03). However it should also have a sufficient variety of things in it. Sufficient to achieve its purpose; else it's not a theory of anything but rather a metaphor (MEN61).

Meditating on this I suggest that especially when you attempt to communicate a murky subject matter your prose ought be simple but not too simple. Elsewhere what I've done is suggested looking at prose with meaning through the lens of its meaning window convoluted entropy — and minimizing just that.

Which is easier than it sounds; words are misleading, like I said. All that is required is that one idea one sentence. One idea one paragraph. And one idea one section. You take the logarithm of has many idea in each in each of these levels of the prose. Add that up; and you can do it mentally. Log 1 = 0. Then the divergence from 0 is a measure of your sin against the smooth communication of what you meant to say.

Observe how I breaking sentences; break the rules of proper grammar. If it's demanded by meaning then it's demanded by meaning. Stephen WOLFRAM makes the same point regarding how he had to structure his prose in his long and intricately argued monograph (WOL02).

You need as many variables as required to predict the system to the greatest possible extent. To extract the greatest possible amount of internal information from the system considered (SHA84).

That is the simplest theory one may argue. And that might be the simplest meaningful prose.

 

— 〈  7  〉—

The other trick is to use humor. And merely hint at deeper meaning, if you don't want the muddy water of the whole description in your text. Which is possible the water is very muddy.

Humor deals with surprise, a crossing of a threshold such that the whole takes on a new meaning.

This can be used to effectively communicate a point whose detailed explanation will inevitably be messy.

Because humor can be messy and nobody will complain; and actually succeeding to entertain you grant yourself more leeway to communicate the truth. There will be no objection regarding somewhat less than clear water.

When people are laughing they'll happily drink even sewage. If they're entertained they'll absentmindedly take and drink a cup of sewage. No, they won't notice it.

Not saying you should present sewage. If all you have is sewage, you probably need to study more. The truth is sometimes messy, but not always. And not very messy.

The point is that if you entertain your audience you can: (1) use the double meaning of words to clearly and concisely communicate after the flip what you can't clearly communicate with a string of text which restrictively means one thing, and (2) if you succeed in doing that, anyway, you'll have won from them far more tolerance for the truth even if the truth is so complex and difficult that the uninformed cannot believe it really is the truth.

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