Overlapping Context and Fuzzy Edges

Parent-Child Context Relationships: Intersection/Union

3/1/2005

The following figures depict some notional ideas for how to graphically describe some of the interesting relationships among contexts as they occur in a large, formal organization. The idea occurred to me that there must be some way of describing the similarities and differences in the concepts and discourse of the various subgroups of an organization (any organization). In the diagram, each oval represents a defined organizational group established by the business to allocate and accomplish all of the work necessary for the business to function. Each oval within another oval represents a specific group of individuals working in that business, until we reach the largest oval representing all employees in all groups. Even this largest oval exists in a larger context, that of the culture at large.

The discussion which follows touches on some incomplete ideas about how the concepts, signs and symbols within a given context relate to those of both smaller child and larger parent contexts.

Graphical depiction of Parent Child Contexts

Above: A Bird's Eye View of Nested Contexts; Below: Cross Section View of Nested Contexts

“Inheritance” of concept flows down from the broadest context down to the lowest context. This is not like the inheritance of properties in an object oriented paradigm, so the term may need to be changed. The idea really is that in the absence of an explicit statement of a concept in a lower level context, the members of the community may defer to the definition of that concept from one of the broader contexts that exist above them. In other words, the larger community of humans may have defined the concept and the more detailed context may neglect to reiterate the concept, preferring instead to use the larger context’s definition.

On the other hand, any concept defined in a broader context may be re-defined at a more detailed level. This may or may not be intentional, or even noticed by either members of the larger context or the more insular context. When noticed, it still doesn’t typically cause a problem in normal human discourse, as the humans are able to translate between each context, and hold in their minds each definition.

Contexts at different levels that do not share the same lineage may define a concept in different ways. If their members do not interact under normal circumstances, then there is still not a problem of communication or data integration. However, problems arise out of this layering and locality-driven conceptualization when the information must be shared, either tete-a-tete through direct interface (as happens in workflow integration problems) or through some roll-up to a common conceptual, parent context (as happens in reporting and business intelligence problems). This is the origin of the “single version of the truth” goal that many organizations now take as a given, best practice.

“Inheritance” of concepts flows down. What this means is that concepts defined in the parent’s broader context may still hold meaning in the more narrow child context. Exceptions/replacements are not limited to replacing concepts from the immediate parent, but can happen with any concept above. Each context layer, almost by definition, will define concepts that are uniquely their own, as well. This is one of the sources of intra-organization argument and confusion, as the same terms (syntactic medium) may be used to refer to two slightly (or even grossly) divergent ideas within the same corporate context.

Not every symbol will be meaningful in every child context, the process of transference of concepts can filter out concepts as well as borrow them. At each contextual layer, shared structure may be given different meanings. Lack of specificity/explicitness of definition at a layer does not imply automatic inheritance from above, as it can also reflect a vagueness of thought or lack of agreement about a fringe aspect.

The vacuum created, however, tends to favor the wholesale borrowing of the concept from the parent context.

Each context layer is complete in its own right. The sizes shown in the diagram suggest a size of content but this is just an artifact of the notation. A child context may define an infinite number of concepts over time, just as its parent context does. Theoretically, each context could be depicted or described in full without reference to the broader parent contexts.

Not every concept defined within any particular layer will wind up represented within some application software used by the humans participating in that context. However, if the humans in that context have acquired software to support their activities, the concepts within that system will naturally conform to the context, although they may force the context to be changed to reflect limitations and capabilities that the software imposes.

The reality is of course much more complicated than the diagram suggests. Since the context at each level is defined by the humans who inhabit and communicate within it, new members may introduce or adapt concepts from other contexts that are unrelated to the hierarchy of autonomy and control. Rather than attempt to trace the origin point of concepts across all contexts, it is recommended that these few concepts be considered  either of local origin, or as part of a bridging context between the context and the context of origin. This will have to be chosen only based on the value to be gained from either point of view.

Bridging contexts are new contexts established to bridge between some subset of concepts from each of two different contexts. These are established when new information communication between the two contexts is required. The bridging context can be recognized by the relative sparseness of the conceptual inventory, and by the fact that the lineage of the concepts is limited to two (or perhaps a handful at most) otherwise disjoint contexts.

Most transaction oriented interfaces, as well as any data interface between two functionally disparate systems (of any type) are defined within a bridging context limited to just the mediating symbols.

Advertisements

What a Context Is: Information Flow Theory

I’ve been busy lately, and let this discussion lapse for a bit. Let’s see if I can kickstart it again.

Sometimes, information flows from the physical world to a person who observes and interprets his perceptions to create and recognize new knowledge. Sometimes, someone creates a message in a physical medium and “sends” it into the world hoping that there will be another person who not only can sense it, but can recognize it as a message and can receive the information layered on top of the physical perception. The first is an example of simple observation and perception, the second is an example of communication within a context. While both rely on the perception of physical reality by the observer, they are fundamentally, though subtlety, different.

I have been reading a book on the mathematical theory underlying the “flow” of “information” in the real world, and while I don’t yet really understand the theory, there are some points the book is failing to make about context which I think are important.

Barwise, Jon and Seligman, Jerry, Information Flow: The Logic of Distributed Systems, Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Not that the book was intended to cover the concept of context, per se, being an attempt to lay out a mathematical/logical framework for describing the flow of information across, through and between physical systems. It does have an extensive section on “local logics” which when I understand it better may help me describe my own ideas about context in a formal manner.

What struck me, and forms the origin point of today’s discussion on contexts, is the example the authors use to introduce and illustrate the technical discussion. And as you will see, it is not just the example given, but variations of it that I will use to elucidate better what a context is and is not. To get to the meat of my thinking, here is their example, as written on pages 4-5.

Judith, a keen but inexperienced mountaineer, embarked on an ascent of Mt. Ateb. She took with her a compass, a flashlight, a topographic map, and a bar of Lindt bittersweet chocolate. The map was made ten years previously, but she judged that the mountain would not have changed too much. Reaching the peak shortly after 2 P. M. she paused to eat two squares of chocolate and reflect on the majesty of her surroundings.

At 2:10 P. M. she set about the descent. Encouraged by the ease of the day’s climb, she decided to take a different route down. It was clearly indicated on the map and clearly marked on the upper slopes, but as she descended the helpful little piles of stones left by previous hikers petered out. Before long she found herself struggling to make sense of compass bearings taken from ambiguously positioned rocky outcrops and the haphazard tree line below. By 4 P. M. Judith was hopelessly lost.

Scrambling down a scree slope, motivated only by the thought that down was a better bet than up, the loose stones betrayed her, and she tumbled a hundred feet before breaking her fall against a hardy uplands thorn. Clinging to the bush and wincing atthe pain in her left leg, she took stock. It would soon be dark. Above her lay the treacherous scree, below her were perils as yet unknown. She ate the rest of the chocolate.

Suddenly, she remembered the flashlight. It was still working. She began to flash out into the twilight. By a miracle, her signal was seen by another day hiker, who was already near the foot of the mountain. Miranda quickly recognized the dots and dashes of the SOS and hurried on to her car where she phoned Mountain Rescue. Only twenty minutes later the searchlight from a helicopter scanned the precipitous east face of Mt. Ateb, illuminating the frightened Judith, still clinging to the thorn bush but now waving joyously at the aircraft.

Was Judith Lucky That Miranda Knew Morse Code?

In a word, yes. In so many ways:

  • like the fact that Miranda was near the bottom of the mountain,
  • that she had a clear view of the side of the mountain where Judith lay,
  • that she had a cell phone at the car,
  • and most importantly, Judith was indeed lucky that Miranda knew the Morse code for “SOS”.

In fact, it was also lucky that Judith herself knew the code. So in the story as given, since Judith knew the code to use when she found herself in trouble, she used her light as the syntactic medium in which she encoded a message of her need for help. The fact that Morse code is a globally standard coding scheme simply meant that both Judith and Miranda both shared a common context without ever having met. The fact of their shared knowledge of the code provided the context by which Judith was able to get her message to Miranda.

What if Miranda Didn’t Know Morse Code

Things could have been much worse for Judith if either of them had no knowledge of the code, or if neither of them did. In addition, it was lucky that Miranda was somehow aware (or realized as she was watching) that a flashing light could be used to signify such a code, and that she then obviously deduced from the repeated pattern that someone was sending a message.

Imagine what might have happened if Miranda had seen the flashing light, but didn’t recognize it as a code, and therefore didn’t try to translate what she was seeing. Instead of reacting by calling for help, she might have thought to herself “Oh look, there’s a light up on the mountain. I wonder what that is?” but then gone on about her business.

In other words, Miranda could have observed her environment and perceived the flashing light but concluded that it was simply a physical phenomenon of no particular import. She may have perceived the signal but failed to recognize it as a message. In which case, this would show that Judith and Miranda had failed to establish a context for the communication.

What if Judith didn’t know Morse Code?

If Judith didn’t know Morse Code, perhaps she would still have started waving her flashlight around. Miranda having seen the light would have no reason to recognize a code.

Would this mean Judith would be out of luck? Not necessarily, if Miranda was also an experienced hiker. Miranda being in the context of hiking, it might occur to her that there shouldn’t be a light on that part of the mountain at that moment in time. She might think to herself that the random way the light was moving, plus its position on the mountain compared with where the safe trails were, added up to someone in distress.

In this case, a message has still been sent from Judith to Miranda, with the same result. The context that Miranda was thinking in plus her perception and prior knowledge of the mountain trails, allowed her to reach a conclusion that there was someone on the mountain in trouble. But it is important to note that Judith was not in the same context as Miranda.

In fact, if Miranda was a ranger, she may have been trained to look for and recognize the behavior of people in distress. In this example, we must conclude that Judith was not actually participating in the context with Miranda. It was Miranda’s knowledge of and mindset regarding her perceptions of the dangerous mountain environment which led her to deduce the existence of a person in trouble, not the fact of Judith’s trying to send a message.

Yes, this Judith tried to send a message, but she couldn’t have known that her random wavings would be recognized in anyway. Whereas the Judith who used Morse code actually knew of a context and encoded a very specific message using that context, with the expectation and hope that someone else might also understand it.

The difference in the two versions of the story is subtle. In both cases a message was sent, and in both a message was received and an action was taken. But in the first story, a bridging context in the form of Morse Code was called upon to carry a very specific message, while in the second story there was no bridging context. In the second story, it was entirely the perceptiveness and deductive power of Miranda’s “hiking Mt. Ateb context” which allowed her to create for herself new information: namely that “someone out there is in trouble”.

Once More, What If Judith Wasn’t In Trouble?

Let’s take one more variation of the story to enforce this last point. Let’s say that everything happened as described, except that instead of falling down the scree, Judith purposefully rappelled down the side of the mountain. And furthermore, that instead of clinging desperately to a thorn bush, that she had actually managed to establish a bivuoac in that peculiar outpost. In this version of the story, perhaps Judith is waving her flashlight around as in our second story, only this time merely to light her little campground while fixing herself dinner.

Now imagine ranger Miranda, trained as before and with a knowledge of the trails, but without prior knowledge of anyone camping where Judith found her perch. Using her same described skills of perception and deduction, Miranda may still come to the conclusion that there was someone on the side of the mountain in trouble, and would take the aforementioned steps to effect a rescue. Only she would find that Judith was not in need of help, and is now put out by the disturbance of her relaxation by the whirring chopper blades.

In this version of the story, Miranda is still in the same context as before, and uses her perceptions and the rules of that context to reach her conclusion. The fact is, and this second version of the story should make it clear, that while information did flow from Judith to Miranda just as before, we cannot call this information a “message” carried on a medium and in a context shared by Judith and Miranda. In other words, it was not a purposeful communication across a bridging context.

No, quite simply, in both of these latter examples, Miranda’s context guided her to her perception and the creation of the knowledge that Judith was on the mountain and in trouble (even if she was mistaken on this last point in the final story).

Summary

The fact that a person who presses a flashlight button does or does not intend to send a message – to communicate through that act -defines whether we classify the information flow as being a symbollic act or not. Perhaps the person does not realize or care whether there is another person watching for a flashlight in the dark. The factthat someone sees the light and acts in response does not mean that communication has occurred. Just because information has flowed does not mean that symbols have flowed.
This is a subtle distinction but an important one.

Functions On Symbols

Data integration is a complex problem with many facets. From a semiotic point of view, quite a lot of human cognitive and communicative processing capabilities is involved in the resolution. This post is entering the discussion at a point where a number of necessary terms and concepts have not yet been described on this site. Stay tuned, as I will begin to flesh out these related ideas.

You may also find one of my permanent pages on functions to be helpful.

A Symbol Is Constructed

Recall that we are building tautologies showing equivalence of symbols. Recall that symbols are made up of both signs and concepts.

If we consider a symbol as an OBJECT, we can diagram it using a Unified Modeling Language (UML) notation. Here is a UML Class diagram of the “Symbol” class.

UML Diagram of the "Symbol" Object

UML Diagram of the "Symbol" Object

The figure above depicts how a symbol is constructed from both a set of “signs” and a set of “concepts“. The sign is the arrangement of physical properties and/or objects following an “encoding paradigm” defined by the members of a context. The “concept” is really the meaning which that same set of people (context) has projected onto the symbol. When meaning is projected onto a physical sign, then a symbol is constructed.

Functions Impact Both Structure and Meaning

Symbols within running software are constructed from physical arrangements of electronic components and the electrical and magnetic (and optical) properties of physical matter at various locations (this will be explained in more depth later). The particular arrangement and convention of construction of the sign portion of the symbol defines the syntactic media of the symbol.

Within a context, especially within the software used by that context, the same concept may be projected onto many different symbols of different physical media. To understand what happens, let’s follow an example. Let’s begin with a computer user who wants to create a symbol within a particular piece of software.

Using a mechanical device, the human user selects a button representing the desired symbol and presses it. This event is recognized by the device which generates the new instance of the symbol using its own syntactic medium, which is the pulse of current on a closed electrical circuit on a particular wire. When the symbol is placed in long term storage, it may appear as a particular arrangement of microscopic magnetic fields of various polarities in a particular location on a semi-metalic substrate. When the symbol is in the computer’s memory, it may appear as a set of voltages on various microscopic wires. Finally, when the symbol is projected onto the computer monitor for human presentation, it forms a pattern of phosphoresence against a contrasting background allowing the user to perceive it visually.

Note through all of the last paragraph, I did not mention anything about what the symbol means! The question arises, in this sequence of events, how does the meaning of the symbol get carried from the human, through all of the various physical representations within the computer, and then back out to the human again?

First of all, let’s be clear, that at any particular moment, the symbol that the human user wanted to create through his actions actually becomes several symbols – one symbol for each different syntactic representation (syntactic media) required for it to exist in each of the environments described. Some of these symbols have very short lives, while others have longer lives.

So the meaning projected onto the computer’s keyboard by the human:

  • becomes a symbol in the keyboard,
  • is then transformed into a different symbol in the running hardware and operating system,
  • is transformed into a symbol for storage on the computer’s hard drive, and
  • is also transformed into an image which the human perceives as the shape of the symbol he selected on the keyboard.

But the symbol is not actually “transforming” in the computer, at least in the conventional notion of a thing changing morphology. Instead, the primary operation of the computer is to create a series of new symbols in each of the required syntactic media described, and to discard each of the old symbols in turn.

It does this trick by applying various “functions” to the symbols. These functions may affect both the structure (syntactic media) of the symbol, but possibly also the meaning itself. Most of the time, as the symbol is copied and transferred from one form to another, the meaning does not change. Most of the functions built into the hardware making up the “human-computer interface” (HCI) are “identity” functions, transferring the originally projected concept from one syntactic media form to another. If this were not so, if the symbol printed on the key I press is not the symbol I see on the screen after the computer has “transformed” it from keyboard to wire to hard drive to wire to monitor screen, then I would expect that the computer was broken or faulty, and I would cease to use it.

Sometimes, it is necessary/desirable that the computer apply a function (or a set of functions called a “derivation“) which actually alters the meaning of one symbol (concept), creating a new symbol with a different meaning (and possibly a different structure, too).

Context As Observer

Consider a context as a reflection of one point of view. As a frame or lense through which the external environment is observed. The “things” that “matter” to the context are the events or features which are both:

  • VISIBLE – or otherwise perceptible, and
  • NAMEABLE – or describable/categorizable

If something is imperceptible, then obviously there will be nothing to notice – no “referent”. In this case, imagined perceptions will be included as “perceptible”. If the thing which could be perceived is not nameable or otherwise describable within the context, then the context hasn’t noticed it and it does not exist.

That is to say, that a reality exists independent of any particular context, but in terms of the point of view of the context, that which the context has no expression for lies outside of the context. If context is the perceiver, then the indescribable reality outside of the context may as well not exist, for all the benefit the context gains from it.

Every context that exists is limited to the perception of  only a subset of reality. Is there a limit to the perception of reality if we take into account the sum total of all contexts in existence today, and all those which existed in the past? Yes, else one would expect that invention and discovery would cease.

Context is a feature of communication. It is not reality, which is the referent of the communication.

An example comes to mind from the physical world. One context may be the one in which the speed of a particle is important. Another context may be the one in which the position of the particle in space and time is important. Then there’s the context of Quantum Mechanics which is the one which first recognized that there were two other contexts (although it did not call them this) and that one interferes with the other. In QM, due to the known limitations of the physical world and our ability to perceive it at a particular level, these two contexts can never observe the same exact phenomenon. An observer in one context that observes one aspect of the particle necessarily changes the condition of the particle so that the other condition is no longer perceptible.

This seems really trivial, until we broaden the idea out to more complex contexts. The world is an analog, continuous place. Even the most complex context however can only perceive and name certain aspects, and is unaware of or finds inexpressible other aspects.

This is the place where poets and artists find creative expression and energy, between the lines of the necessarily constrained contexts of their own ability to communicate.

Out of the whole continuity of experience and phenomena which is the world about us, we are selective about the things we notice and think and speak about. Why one observation is made instead of another is based wholly on the things we find “remarkable”.

We remark on the things that are remarkable to us. By this I mean, the things we wish to convey or communicate are the things we find words to express. This “finding of words” includes inventing words and turns of phrase. After all, we each bring to the human table a uniqueness of vision commensurate to our talents, proclivities and experience.

Those to whom we successfully impart our observations, thru the act of their understanding the message, enter into the context of discourse of those observations. Once in that context, they may corroborate or elaborate on my original observations, broadening and enriching the context. Over time our collective observations become codified and regular, our terminology more richly evocative and concise, such that we may begin to speak in a shorthand.

Where a paragraph once was needed, now a sentence – where once a sentence now a single term…

As we start recognizing more and more examples of a phenomena, we invent a sublanguage which, when used within the context (and with the proper participants – see definition of context – i.e., with other people who share this context) is perfectly understandable.

An extreme example of differences in contexts would be the contrast of elementary school arithmetics versus obscure branches of mathematics research. The concepts which matter in the one are inconceivable in the other, the notation and terminology of the one are indecipherable in the other.

Consider the origin and usage of the term “ponzi scheme”. The original of the type was perpetrated by a man named “Ponzi”. Anyone who has operated a similar scheme since can now be referred to using the name of one notorious example. In recent years, the largest ponzi scheme ever perpetrated was the brainchild of Bernie Madoff. Time will tell if future outrageously immense ponzi schemes will be given a new moniker.

We might ask: “In what sense do we say that a “context” is an “observer”? There are a few ways we can use this analogy. First, a context is the product of communication among indidivual humans. It is the participation in the communication, in sending and receiving message, that creates the scope of the communication. What is communicated is the shared observations of the participant community.

Context Is:

Communication == Community == Communication

Information transfer among a group of individuals who share a common interest.

The language used is necessarily constrained, at first informally but later perhaps more rigidly as communication becomes more focused. Difficult observations require lots of talk. Once the idea has been grasped, however, less and less is needed to evoke the memory of the original idea, until a single term from the original description can be used as a stand-in.

It is not the abstract notion of a context that actually does the observing. Rather it is the community members themselves, the humans, who do the observing. The subject of communication is necessarily the things of interest to the community. But an individual who observes something is not necessarily participating in the context. Only the observations that are shared and received are part of the context.

A second sense in which the context can be described as the observer at an abstract level. While the context is formed from the collective interests and communication of the group of humans, eventually, the context becomes prescriptive. The extent and content of the shared sublanguage then defines the type and content of the observations that can be made by the members of the context. An observation that falls outside of the context’s prescriptive rules for content and structure is likely not to be understood (received). If it is not received, it may as well not have happened, hence such messages fall out of context.  The more constrained and formalized the context, the more explicit and succinct the observations that can be carried by that context, but also the fewer the variety of observations.

Successful study of the constraints and observations within a context occurs in much of the “social sciences”. Much can be deduced about what is important within a community by analysing the rules and limits of the communication that community’s context permits. In particular, a sense of the portion of existence important to the context can be deduced from the study of the observations communicated within that context.

Tension and Intention: Shifting Meaning in Software

If a software system is designed for one particular purpose, the data structures will have one set of intended meanings. These will be the meanings which the software developers anticipated would be needed by the user community for which the software was built. This set of intended meanings and the structure and supported relationships make up the “domain” of the software application.

When the software is actually put to use, the user community may actually redefine the meaning of certain parts of the syntactic media defined by the developers. This often happens at the edges of a system, where there may exist sets of symbols whose content are not critical to the operating logic of the application, but which are of the right syntactic media to support the new meaning. The meaning that the user community projects onto the software’s syntactic media forms the context within which the application is used. (See “Packaged Apps Built in Domains But Used in Contexts“)

Software typically has two equally important components. One is the capture, storage, retreival and presentation of symbols meaningful to a human community. The second is a set of symbol transformation processes (i.e., programming logic) which are built in to systematically change both the structure and possibly the meaning of one set of symbols into another set of symbols.

For a simplistic example, perhaps the software reads a symbol representing a letter of the alphabet and it transforms it into an integer using some regular logic (as opposed to picking something at random). This sort of transformation occurs a lot in encryption applications, and is a kind of transformation which preserves the meaning of the original symbol although changing completely its sign (syntactic medium).

When we push data (symbols) from a different source or context into the software application, especially data defined in a context entirely removed from that in which the software was defined and currently used, there are a number of possible ways to interpret what has happened to the original meaning of the symbols in the application.

What are some of the ways of re-interpretation?

  1. The meaning of the original context has expanded to a new, broader, possibly more abstract level, encompassing the meanings of both the original and the new contexts.
  2. Possibly, the mere fact that the original data and the new data have been able to be mixed into the same syntactic media may indicate that the data from the two contexts are actually the same. How might you tell?
  3. Might it also imply that the syntactic medium is more broadly useful, or that the transformation logic are somewhat generically applicable (and hence more semantically benign)?
  4. Are the data from the two contexts cohabitating the same space easily? Are they therefore examples of special cases of a larger, or broader symbollic phenomenon, or merely a happy coincidence made possibe by loose or incomplete software development practices?
  5. How do the combined populations of data symbols fare as maintenance of the software for one of the contexts using it is applied? Does the other context’s data begin to be corrupted? Or is it easy to make software changes to the shared structures? Do changes in the logic and structure supporting one context force additional changes to be made to disambiguate the symbols from the other context?

These questions come to mind (or should) whenever a community starts thinking about using existing applications in new contexts.

Bridge Contexts: Meaning in the Edgeless Boundary

Previously, I’ve written about the idea of the “edgeless boundary” between semiospheres for someone with knowledge of more than one context. This boundary is “edgeless” because to the person perceiving it, there is little or no obvious boundary.

In software systems, especially in situations where different software applications are in use, the boundary between them, by contrast, can be quite stark and apparent. I’ll describe the reasons for this in other postings at a later time. The nutshell explanation is that each software system must be constrained to a well-defined subset of concepts in order to operate consistently. The subset of reality about which a particular application system can capture data (symbols) is limited by design to those regularly observable conditions and events that are of importance to the performance of some business function.

Often (in an ideal scenario), an organization will select only one application to support one set of business functions at a time. A portfolio of applications will thus be constructed through the acquisition/development of different applications for different sets of business functions. As mentioned elsewhere on this site, sometimes an organization will have acquired more than one application of a particular type (see ERP page). 

In any case, information contained in one application oftentimes needs to be replicated into another application within the organization.  When this happens, regardless of the method by which the information is moved from one application to another, a special kind of context must be created/defined in order for the information to flow. This context is called a “bridging context” or simply a “bridge context”.

As described previously, an application system represents a mechanized perception of reality. If we anthropomorphize the application, briefly, we might say that the application forms a semiosphere consisting of the meaning projected onto its syntactic media by the human developers and its current user community, forming symbols (data) which carry the specifically intended meaning of the context.

Two applications, therefore, would present two different semiospheres. The communication of information from one semiosphere to the other occurs when the symbols of one application are deconstructed and transformed into the symbols of the other application, with or without commensurate changes in meaning. This transformation may be effected by human intervention (as through, for example, the interpretation of outputs from one system and the re-coding/data entry into the other), or by automated transformation processes of any type (i.e., other software).

“Meaning” in a Bridging Context

Bridging Contexts have unique features among the genus of contexts overall. They exist primarily to facilitate the movement of information from one context to another. The meaning contained within any Bridging Context is limited to that of the information passing across the bridge. Some of the concepts and facts of the original contexts will be interpretable (and hence will have meaning) within the bridging context only if they are used or transformed during this flow.  Additional information may exist within the bridge context, but will generally be limited to information required to perform or manage the process of transformation.

Hence, I would consider that the knowledge held or communicated by an individual (or system) operating within a bridging context which is otherwise unrelated to either of the original contexts, or of the process of transference, would existing outside of the bridging context, possibly in a third context. As described previously, the individual may or may not perceive the separation of knowledge in this manner.

Special symbols called “travellers” may flow through untouched by transformation and unrecognized within the bridging context. These symbols represent information important in the origin context which may be returned unmodified to the origin context by additional processes. During the course of their trip across the bridging context(s) and through the target contexttravellers typically will have no interpretation, and will simply be passed along in an unmodified syntactic form until returned to their origin, where they can then be interpreted again. By this definition, a traveller is a symbol that flows across a bridge context but which only has meaning in the originating context.

Given a path P from context A to context B, the subset of concepts of A that are required to fulfill the information flow over path P are meaningful within the bridging context surrounding P. Likewise, the subset of concepts of B which are evoked or generated by the information flowing through path P, is also part of the content of the bridge context.  Finally, the path P may generate or use information in the course of events which are neither part of context A nor B. This information is also contained within the bridge context.

Bridge contexts may contain more than one path, and paths may transfer meaning in any direction between the bridged contexts. For that matter, it is possible that any particular bridging context may connect more than two other contexts (for example, when an automated system called an “Operational Data Store” is constructed, or a messaging interface such as those underlying Service Oriented Architecture (SOA) components are built).

An application system itself can represent a special case of a bridging context. An application system marries the context defined by the data modeller to the context defined by the user interface designer. This is almost a trivial distinction, as the two are generally so closely linked that their divergence should not be considered a sign of separate contexts. In this usage, an application user interface can be thought of as existing in the end user’s context, and the application itself acts to bridge that end user context to the context defining the database.

Indicators of Semiospheric Boundary

I was reading an entry at Sentence First on the surprise the author experienced when the word “razzed” was used in the body of a book on semantics, and drew a connection between the reported experience of the blog’s author upon finding the term and the notion of “semiospheres” described by Yuri Lotman.

Lotman describes the following thoughts in his paper “On the Semiosphere”, (Sign Systems Studies 33.1, 2005):

The division between the core and the periphery is a law of the internal organisation of the semiosphere. The dominant semiotic systems are located at the core.

This suggest to me that one would expect the most frequent usage of terms important to a semiosphere to occur in the dominant core.  Since a semiosphere is a continuum all the way to its edges (sharing an edge with another semiosphere), these symbols from the core should eventually and occasionally appear in the edges.

Lotman also said:

The border of semiotic space is the most important functional and structural position, giving substance to its semiotic mechanism. The border is a bilingual mechanism, translating external communications into the internal language of the semiosphere and vice versa.

When the semiosphere identifies itself with the assimilated “cultural” space, and the world which is external to itself .. then the spatial distribution of semiotic forms takes the following shape in a variety of cases: a person who, by virtue of particular talent … or type of employment … belongs to two worlds, operates as a kind of interpreter, settling in the territorial periphery …whilst the sanctuary of “culture” confines itself to the deified world situated at the centre.

The author of the post at Sentence First described himself as residing at the “elbow of Europe” and his blog has as a catch phrase “An Irishman’s blog about the Engish language. Mostly.” The book he was reading was written in the 1930’s by an American for an American lay audience, the subject being the esoteria of semiotics.

What I found ironic/interesting is how these two semiotic events (the book and the blog post) illustrate Lotman’s points so nicely.

The book on semiotics was purposefully written by one of these special people with connections to two different worlds of semiosis (one of semiotic academia, and the other of the larger American culture of his time) and is a purposeful attempt to relate the esoteric concepts of the one in the vernacular of the other. From this, to the point raised by the Sentence First author, I judge that the use of the term “razzed” to actually be a great example of the book’s attempt to reach that core audience.

The second semiotic act provides a narrative of the experience of someone sitting on the boundary between two semiospheres. While I hesitate to try to label and define this second pair of semiospheres, I think the fact that the author had to pause when he encountered the term in the context of the book shows this boundary clearly.

What I liked about the posting was that, while Lotman’s discussion is a good illustration of the semiotic landscape, and how semiotic boundaries tend to operate, Sentence First’s posting tells the story of the experience of someone actually sitting on and experiencing one of those boundaries.

Putting these two things together shows, I think, one more thing as well. As an individual person, through my life experience, I gather and collect “semiotic technique” – in other words, I learn how to communicate – in many different contexts. Being human, I tend to distill, fuse, combine, contrast, and ultimately integrate all of these semiotic capabilities into my own personal arsonal of communication. Thus armed, I am able to translate one semiotic act from one context into any of a thousand others. It is my human condition to do so.

Thus while Lotman seems to imply that a special sort of person is needed to act at the semiotic boundary, I think that it takes no special talent in particular to do so. Rather, I think it is merely dependent on having a person who is immersed in both contexts to find someone who will translate between them.

%d bloggers like this: