I’m writing a book on natural information architecture in which I explore strange connections between mental models, natural order, artificial intelligence, and divergent thinking.
But don’t pre-order just yet. My deadline is 2029 — the year I turn 60. This is simply me telling you where I’m heading before I disappear into the wilderness.
Mycorrhizal Network
On Mushrooms
If I say a mushroom is a fungus, you might claim that’s obvious, but Hope Jahren says, “this is exactly like believing that a penis is a man.”
As the fruiting body of a fungus, a mushroom is merely a sex organ, more like an apple than a tree. And, for fungi, most of the action occurs underground, in the unseen interspecies networks that facilitate nutrient exchange and communication.
Our first impression of a mushroom (or a tree) as more whole than part is false. In the consensual hallucination that we call reality, there’s always more than meets the eye. Yet our mental models are hooked on the doors of perception.
Mental Models
In A Thousand Brains, Jeff Hawkins reveals “the brain uses maplike structures to build a model of the world — not just one model, but hundreds of thousands of models of everything we know.” Building on his earlier memory-prediction framework, Hawkins explains, “Every part of the neocortex learns complete models of objects and concepts,” and “Long range connections in the neocortex allow the models to work together to create your perception of the world.”
Thousand Brains Theory
As the neocortex is divided by region (vision, hearing, touch, language, etc.), so too are our mental models, which are stored in cortical columns. This is tacit knowledge. We don’t know what we know. Perception is “the consensus the columns reach by voting,” and the basis for our actions and explicit knowledge.
Pippa on a Ladder
Recently, our cat got herself stuck up an 8-foot ladder. My wife and daughter weren’t sure how to help without hurting Pippa or themselves (sharp claws).
I lifted an ottoman, she hopped aboard, and I lowered her, safe and sound. My wife asked, “how did you think of that?” My best answer is “mental models.”
In the somatosensory area of my neocortex, there are models of the weight, size, shape, and feel of our cat and ottoman, and of my height relative to the ladder. The synthesis of insight happened in a flash. I saw a solution in my mind’s eye.
Natural Order
A tree is a symbol of hierarchy. In the bifurcation of branches, we see an abstraction. From matter we draw form — and use it to organize everything.
Tree of Life by Ernst Haeckel (1879)
We imagine a taxonomy, sketch a tree diagram, put ourselves on top, and call it the natural order. It’s a repeating pattern of persuasive propaganda.
It’s not just that the proposition of supremacy is wrong. So is our image of a tree. As with fungi, trees are part of an invisible, underground, mycorrhizal network.
Contrary to most of the mental models in our neocortex, the tree does not stand alone. While competition matters, so does cooperation. Symbiosis is essential. Relationship is life. Networks are the natural order; and hierarchy is a spectrum.
Leaf Venation
Venation refers to the pattern of veins in a leaf, which transport water, nutrients, and sugars, and provide structural support. Evolution discovers many ways to balance efficiency, flexibility, and resilience. Diversity is the natural order.
Conformity is too. The binary is false. Our search for simple often results in simplistic. Language is part of the problem: as words are categories, categories are maps, and all maps are traps. To elude false binaries, it helps to use spectra (e.g., consciousness is a continuum) while embracing the wisdom of no escape.
Divergent Thinking
I am allergic to conformity and the canon of “one right way.” So it’s no surprise that I disagree with these memorable assertions of Richard Saul Wurman.
As I looked into the organization of information, I realized that there were only five ways to do it. They can be remembered by the acronym LATCH: location, alphabet, time, category, hierarchy. (1996)
The ways of organizing information are finite. It can only be organized by category, time, location, alphabet, or continuum. (1989)
In the language of the polar bear book, he muddles organization schemes (location, alphabet, time) and structures (category, hierarchy). And in the exchange of continuum for hierarchy, we realize neither list is comprehensive.
With respect to the original information architect, I embrace the opposite. There are infinite ways of organizing — endless categories, continua, and connections. And in this garden of forking paths lives information architecture for creativity.
Our mental models emerge from the structure of a brain under the influence of perception. Absent direct access to map or territory, our boxes and arrows are a path into the edgelands of tacit and explicit. Akin to visual thinking, information architecture offers an insightful way to know what I think and see what I say.
Douglas Hofstadter says that “analogy is the core of cognition,” and he defines analogy as “the perception of common essence between two things.” So analogies are strange connections between mental models embodied by neurons in our connectome.
Connectome
And down the rabbit hole we go, where we find the subversive alchemy of nonsense.
In Wonderland, as Alice grows taller-shorter by nibbling on magic mushrooms, the architectures of our brains and our perspective-taking abilities change too.
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
In Flatland, the Square is imprisoned for claiming the existence of a third dimension, and our minds open wide to dimensions and umwelten we can scarcely imagine.
And, in the Celestial Emporium of Jorge Luis Borges, where “animals are divided into (a) those that belong to the Emperor, (b) embalmed ones, (c) those that are trained, (d) suckling pigs, (e) mermaids,” and so on and so forth, our minds grow more likely to interrogate (and diverge from) the absurdity of our own information architectures.
Artificial Intelligence
In 1988, I got hooked on intelligence, natural and artificial, by The Mind’s I, one of many sources of inspiration (and provocation) that I plan to re/read in coming months. My interest in artificial intelligence got me into computers and networks, which ultimately led to library school and information architecture.
Sources of Inspiration
Ironically, I spent my whole IA career as an AI skeptic. My refrain was “don’t believe the hype.” But things have changed. AI is now impossible to avoid or ignore.
To query a large language model is asking for conformity, but I’m open to the idea AI might augment human creativity. So, in the spirit of “know thy enemy,” I plan to experiment with AI for writing, thinking, and the information architecture of ideas.
Natural Information Architecture
AI wants to write my book. Here’s the table of contents. AI is good at synthesis, and at making us feel bad. Why write a book when AI is encyclopedic on every single topic? Like Wendell Berry, AI raises the question — What Are People For?
Natural Information Architecture
If I had to answer in a word, I’d say LOVE. Given more words, I’d write a book. Naturally, I am unsatisfied with my attempt to describe the book I hope to write. But that’s good. It means I have lots to learn. And why write a book that fits in a blog?
I don’t know the form of my next book, but I do know the feel — the adventure of a solitary hike to Iceberg Lake, the discovery of a small mailbox in an open field west of a white house, the dizzying intoxication of reading Gödel, Escher, Bach.
Hallucinogenic Mushrooms
In Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things, George Lakoff says “there is nothing more basic than categorization to our thought, perception, action, and speech.” So all we know is analogy. IA therefore I am. But sets don’t need words. Our donkey Hobbes has an unlabeled category of dangerous things that includes bridges, vets, and llamas. Like I said, categories are maps, maps are traps, and all generalizations are wrong.
As I circle back to old ideas of emancipating information architecture, I remind myself that stuck is on the path to epiphany. Might natural information architecture be a spell to decipher and design our mental models to change our ways? I don’t know. But I am curious. The siren song of natural information architecture is drawing me into the wilderness. If you have a map or compass, let me know — see you on the other side.