Wednesday, December 10, 2008

London Calling - II

(The second in an esteemed series, written by the venerable Mr. Eugenides.)
re·cur·sion (rĭ-kûr'zhən) n. Mathematics

1. See recursion.

2. A formula that generates the successive terms of a recursion.

I won’t be revealing too much of my personal life if I tell you, dear readers, that I work in finance. I suppose by giving out this information you could correctly infer that I’m probably scrabbling around rather indecorously for another job, desperately trying to sell a House/Ferrari/Polo team at a 97% discount-to-list and facing imminent divorce unless I can find a way (legally) to settle an egregious Bliss Spa account. But what you perhaps don’t know is that my presence in this industry is a minor miracle because I’m not terribly good with figures. In fact, I’m almost 105% numerically dyslexic. I was thinking about this recently and I’ve become increasingly convinced that I might actually be Pirahã.

Let me explain; the Pirahã people are an indigenous hunter-gatherer tribe of Amazon natives, who mainly live on the banks of the Maici River in Brazil. The Pirahã people don’t call themselves Pirahãs but instead the ‘Hi'aiti'ihi’, roughly translated as 'the straight ones'. I’m definitely straight (boarding school adjusted) and there are other characteristics I share with the tribe:

1. The Pirahã have no concept of God or religion. They believe in spirits, though these are not the same kinds of spirits as in other cultures. These ‘spirits’ can be jaguars, trees, or other visible, tangible things.

2. The Pirahã take short naps of 15 minutes to two hours through the day and night, and rarely sleep through the night.
3. They often go hungry, not for want of food, but from a desire to be tigisái (hard).

But back to numbers; the Pirahã do not count. Despite efforts to teach them, some researchers, such as Prof. Peter Gordon of Columbia University, claim they are incapable of learning numeracy. His colleague, Prof. Daniel L. Everett, on the other hand, argues that the Pirahã are cognitively capable of counting but they simply choose not to do so.

Being concerned that, because of this cultural gap, they were being cheated in trade, the Pirahã people asked Everett to teach them basic numeracy skills. After eight months of enthusiastic but fruitless daily study, the Pirahã concluded they were incapable of learning the material and discontinued the lessons. Not a single Pirahã had learned to count up to ten or even add 1 + 1.

Everett argued that they are unable to count for two cultural reasons and one formal linguistic reason. First, they are nomadic hunter/gatherers with nothing to count and hence no need to practice doing so. Second, they have a cultural constraint against generalizing beyond the present which eliminates number words. Fourthly, since numerals and counting are based on recursion in the language according to some researchers, then the absence of recursion in their language entails a lack of counting.

Come to think of it, set against a background of Lehman Brothers, Bear Stearns, AIG, GM, et al, as you watch the impending implosion of more hedge funds and assorted financial institutions, I suspect you might think there have been more than a few of us Pirahã with seats at the high table of global finance.

‘Wither this economy’? I am continually asked. I’d love to give an elegant synopsis in reply, but I’m afraid I find it very difficult to generalize beyond the present.

Have a great Holiday break.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

I either won or lost the game, depending on your view of things

This morning, I was reminded of this story by a young man (we'll call him S) with whom I attended Analyst Training 2 years ago. He had a wicked sense of humor and was stuck with shouldering the dumbest group in the class. This endeared him to me immediately, as I too am wickedly hilarious and was shouldering the burden of a German playboy, a gentleman from the Johannesburg office who had a penchant for leaving the room to refill on free cookies every 10 minutes, and a Southern girl who twirled her hair so much I thought it might fall out.

For those of you who haven't experienced the sheer pleasure, Analyst Camp is alot like Band Camp, except with exceptional catering, private rooms, and the myth that you are being evaluated. Some people just live in their apartments and attend class during the day, but my company actually sent us to a lodge in the middle of nowhere. It heightens the beer goggle effect, I believe.

On the first day, they tried to cajole us into believing that the classroom portion might be fun.

"Ve going to play, two truuth and Liiie," Sventlana, the Russian Director and our terrible instructor went on. I shot S a look and he burst out laughing.

"Eeets ice break," she continued, and I died a little inside. I hated this game, even more so when people were being evaluated because it converted the usual nonsense (e.g. "I have a red car, I have a blue car, I have a green bicycle! Just try and guess!), into failed attempts to impress others ("I climbed mount kiliminjaro on my hands, I run a hybrid orphanage-school in rural India, Warren Buffett is my godfather!") . But I went along with it and wrote mine down like everyone else, waiting patiently until at last, my turn came.

"Hi. Okay:," I stuttered. "1) I left home at 13, 2) I used to have blonde hair, 3) I was a clown travelling with the circus."

My fellow students immediately started deliberating which item, as a team, they would designate as my lie (Yes, we were already "working as teams"). I saw the table next to mine, write down their answer, then feverishly scratch it out and replace it with another. When time was called, one of the tables was forced to write down an answer which I could tell they hadn't agreed on. Were these people serious? They actually think that, not only might I have been a clown, but that I was a travelling clown? Who has now decided to go into financial services? I could feel the laughter boiling up inside of me.

Every team picked #2.

"So, vich vun it eez?" Svetlana cooed.

I peered at her through my tear soaked eyelashes. "Are you guys serious? You think I was a clown?!?!" I cried, laughing at the same time.

"Well," my Analyst -camp fling from the London office spoke up, "your being blonde just seems utterly silly!" The room nodded in agreement.

First impressions are funny like that.