Logic in Practice and Theory

Computer programs consist of algorithms. Algorithms are instructions on how and in what order an input is to be processed. Algorithms are nothing more than applied logic and a programmer is a practising logician.

But logic is a broad field. In a very narrow sense, logic is a part of mathematics; in a broad sense, logic is everything that has to do with thinking. These two poles show a clear contrast: The logic of mathematics is closed and well-defined, whereas the logic of thought tends to elude precise observation: How do I come to a certain thought? How do I construct my thoughts when I think? And what do I think just in this moment, when I think about my thinking? While mathematical logic works with clear concepts and rules, which are explicit and objectively describable, the logic of thinking is more difficult to grasp. Are there any rules for correct thinking, just as there are rules in mathematical logic for drawing conclusions in the right way?

When I look at the differences between mathematical logic and the logic of thought, something definitely strikes me: Thinking about my thinking defies objectivity. This is not the case in mathematics. Mathematicians try to safeguard every tiny step of thought in a way that is clear and objective and comprehensible to everyone as soon as they understand the mathematical language, regardless of who they are: the subject of the mathematician remains outside.

This is completely different with thinking. When I try to describe a thought that I have in my head, it is my personal thought, a subjective event that primarily only shows itself in my own mind and can only be expressed to a limited extent by words or mathematical formulae.

But it is precisely this resistance that I find appealing. After all, I wish to think ‘correctly’, and it is tempting to figure out how correct thinking works in the first place.

I could now take regress to mathematical logic. But the brain doesn’t work that way. In what way then? I have been working on this for many decades, in practice, concretely in the attempt to teach the computer NLP (Natural Language Processing). The aim has been to find explicit, machine-comprehensible rules for understanding texts, an understanding that is a subjective process, and – being subjective – cannot be easily brought to outside objectivity.

My computer programmes were successful, but the really interesting thing is the insights I was able to gain about thinking, or more precisely, about the logic with which we think.

My work has given me insights into the semantic space in which we think, the concepts that reside in this space and the way in which concepts move. But the most important finding concerned time in logic. I would like to go into that closer and for this target we first look at paradoxes.

Real Paradoxes

Anyone who seriously engages with logic, whether professionally or out of personal interest, will sooner or later come across paradoxes. A classic paradox, for example, is the barber’s paradox:

The Barber Paradox

The barber of a village is defined by the fact that he shaves all the men who do not shave themselves. Does the barber shave himself? If he does, he is one of the men who shave themselves and whom he therefore does not shave. But if he does not shave himself, he is one of the men he shaves, so he also shaves himself. As a result, he is one of the men he does not have to shave. So he doesn’t shave – and so on. That’s the paradox: if he shaves, he doesn’t shave. If he doesn’t shave, he shaves.

The same pattern can be found in other paradoxes, such as the liar paradox and many others. You might think that these kinds of paradoxes are far-fetched and don’t really play a role. But paradoxes do play a role, at least in two places: in maths and in the thought process.

Russell’s Paradox and Kurt Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems

Russel’s paradox has revealed the gap in set theory. Its ‘set of all sets that does not contain itself as an element’ follows the same pattern as the barber of the barber paradox and leads to the same kind of unsolvable paradox. Kurt Gödel’s two incompleteness theorems are somewhat more complex, but are ultimately based on the same pattern. Both Russel’s and Gödel’s paradoxes have far-reaching consequences in mathematics. Russel’s paradox has led to the fact that set theory can no longer be formed using sets alone, because this leads to untenable contradictions. Zermelo had therefore supplemented the sets with classes and thus gave up the perfectly closed nature of set theory.

Gödel’s incompleteness theorems, too, are ultimately based on the same pattern as the Barber paradox. Gödel had shown that every formal system (formal in the sense of the mathematicians) must contain statements that can neither be formally proven nor disproven. A hard strike for mathematics and its formal logic.

Spencer-Brown and the “Laws of Form”

Russel’s refutation of the simple set concept and Gödel’s proof of the incompleteness of formal logic suggest that we should think more closely about paradoxes. What exactly is the logical pattern behind Russel’s and Gödel’s problems? What makes set theory and formal logic incomplete?

The question kept me occupied for a long time. Surprisingly, it turned out that paradoxes are not just annoying evils, but that it is worth using them as meaningful elements in a new formal logic. This step was exemplarily demonstrated by the mathematician Georg Spencer-Brown in his 1969 book ‘Laws of Form’, including a maximally simple formalism for logic.

I would now like to take a closer look at the structure of paradoxes, as Spencer-Brown has pointed them out, and the consequences this has for logic, physics, biology and more.

continue: Paradoxes and Logic (part2)

Translation: Juan Utzinger