A while ago I wrote about my ideas for a successor of today’s computational notebooks. Since then I have made some progress on a prototype implementation, which is the topic of this post. Again I have made a companion screencast (also on Vimeo for those who find peervideo.net too slow to access) so that you can get a better idea of how all this works in practice.
Regular readers of this blog may have noticed that I am not very happy with today’s state of computational notebooks, such as they were pioneered by Mathematica and popularized by more recent free incarnations such as Jupyter, R markdown, or Emacs/OrgMode. In this post and the accompanying screencast (my first one!), I will explain what I dislike about today’s notebooks, and how I think we can do better.
One of the more interesting things I have been playing with recently is Pharo, a modern descendent of Smalltalk. This is a summary of my first impressions after using it on a small (and unfinished) project, for which it might actually turn out to be very helpful.
There is an important and ubiquitous process in scientific research that scientists never seem to talk about. There isn’t even a word for it, as far as I now, so I’ll introduce my own: I’ll call it knowledge distillation.
In today’s scientific practice, there are two main variants of this process, one for individual research studies and one for managing the collective knowledge of a discipline. I’ll briefly present both of them, before coming to the main point of this post, which is the integration of digital knowledge, and in particular software, into the knowledge distillation process.
Since the dawn of computer programming, software developers have been aware of the rapidly growing complexity of code as its size increases. Keeping in mind all the details in a few hundred lines of code is not trivial, and understanding someone else’s code is even more difficult because many higher-level decisions about algorithms and data structures are not visible unless the authors have carefully documented them and keep those comments up to date.
My most recent paper submission (preprint available) is about improving the verifiability of computer-aided research, and contains many references to the related subject of reproducibility. A reviewer asked the same question about all these references: isn’t this the same as for experiments done with lab equipment? Is software worse? I think the answers are of general interest, so here they are.
It is widely recognized by now that software is an important ingredient to modern scientific research. If we want to check that published results are valid, and if we want to build on our colleagues’ published work, we must have access to the software and data that were used in the computations. The latest high-impact statement along these lines is a Nature editorial that argues that with any manuscript submission, authors should also submit the data and the software for review. I am all for that, and I hope that more journals will follow.
Think of all the things you hate about using computers in doing research. Software installation. Getting your colleagues’ scripts to work on your machine. System updates that break your computational code. The multitude of file formats and the eternal need for conversion. That great library that’s unfortunately written in the wrong language for you. Dependency and provenance tracking. Irreproducible computations. They all have something in common: they are consequences of the difficulty of composing digital information. In the following, I will explain the root causes of these problem. That won’t make them go away, but understanding the issues will perhaps help you to deal with them more efficiently, and to avoid them as much as possible in the future.
A recurrent theme in computational science (and elsewhere) is the need to combine machine-readable information (which in the following I will call “facts” for simplicity) with a narrative for the benefit of human readers. The most obvious situation is a scientific publication, which is essentially a narrative explaining the context and motivation for a study, the work that was undertaken, the results that were observed, and conclusions drawn from these results. For a scientific study that made use of computation (which is almost all of today’s research work), the narrative refers to various computational facts, in particular machine-readable input data, program code, and computed results.
Like all information with a complex structure, scientific knowledge evolves over time. New ideas turn into validated models, and are ultimately integrated into a coherent body of knowledge defined by the concensus of a scientific community. In this essay, I explore how this process is affected by the ever increasing use of computers in scientific research. More precisely, I look at “digital scientific knowledge”, by which I mean scientific knowledge that is processed using computers. This includes both software and digital datasets. For simplicity, I will concentrate on software, but much of the reasoning applies to datasets as well, if only because the precise meaning of non-trivial datasets is often defined by the software that treats them.