Tag Archives: Communication

“If You Don’t Get It, You Don’t Get It”: Distinguishing Information from Communication (And Why Meaning is Inseparable from Signs)

This week’s examination and distinction of information and communication resulted in an unexpected, subtle yet abrupt realization, when reflecting on my daily use of both terms. Considerably oblivious to the intricacies of man-machine interaction and information technology/science, I never dissected the ordinary microcosm that is communication – which is simply, the exchanging or units of information, or signs.

In Ronald Day’s essay, he explains that Claude Shannon’s conduit model remains a cornerstone in understanding the basis of information science. More astoundingly is technology’s evolution in the realm of information retrieval “towards … matching the source’s data and the receiver’s desires.” This objective ideally exemplifies a relatively new iOS feature on iPhones – the QuickType bar. The technology within the mobile device generates a list of suggested words – or signs – based on the user’s initial input. The source – being the user – generates a message, or a thought, subsequently articulating this thought by way of manual typing. The receiver, which in this case is the iPhone, produces a list of words, matching the first alphabetic sign and continues to predict subsequent words as long as the communication between user and phone – better yet, man and machine – continues. Autocorrect settings and functions on word processing applications conduct in the same fashion. This organizational method works similarly to the human mind, in how it attempts to categorize and place context on signs into groups like “places,” “names,” “food,” “events” and so on. However, what this model of information delivery and retrieval lacks is visceral context, particular the role of prior experiences to mold the meaning of messages.



Weaver and Wiener further explain that there is no grand difference between human and machine transmission of information if the original message’s intentions are identical. Therefore, a Freudian slip or an instance of tongue-tying is just as a minor finger slip on a keyboard or a touch-screen device not properly registering the user’s touch in selecting a symbol.

As we clearly understand, we are encased within a network of finite signs that carry innumerable possibilities of meanings and values. So how is it that we distinguish an email message on a computer from a text message on a cellular phone? With the advent of tablets and merging message technologies, the lines of homogenous and unique methods of communication via respective devices are becoming blurred; the Messages application on Apple computers allows its users to send signals to others by using their email addresses or phone numbers. Similarly, smart phone users can access their email accounts from their devices to send/receive information. At one point, I even recall being able to send photos and audio from my phone to my email account and my actual phone number would be displayed in the “From” field.

The origin and context in which emails are commonly used are in the workplace or in academic scenarios between faculty and students. Therefore, there is an indirect value or meaning placed upon email as a medium for communication that is related to formal, impersonal messaging. This is an instance in which the technical cannot escape the social. Hand-held devices – which have swiftly evolved since the Millennial generation’s existence – has seemingly become affiliated with younger audiences and more informality, particularly because of application appeal for youth and the generation’s familiarity with advances in mobile and digital technology. (Brief aside: The same familiarity with one sign system can be juxtaposed with that of the example given in Ray and Charles Eames’ video: If one can determine the frequency of a pregnant woman’s contractions, her cervix dilation can be approximated, or one can determine the time of day based on the sun’s location.) Because of its affiliation with lax, off-the-clock communication, less scrutiny and pressure is placed on adhering to Standard English grammar and spelling when hand-held devices are the nodes for communication. Moreover, consider that few professors share their mobile phone numbers or “home” email addresses with students, unless allowing the open-door policy for emergency contacts. The distinction between these identical communication modes with differing meanings and contexts explains the needs for codeswitching, or as I like to call it, “Let me put on my best workplace voice.”


Finally, I’d like to highlight my fascination with the concepts of presupposition and noise. In previous posts, I have mentioned the complexities of digesting new information and the common assumption of shared code between sources. A dialogue about coding between a professor and a student may not render much decoding of information, yet if another student dissects the encoded information and re-communicates that to the same student, understanding of the signs or information can be achieved. As Eames’ video explained, “In any communication system, the receiver must be able to decode something of what the transmitter coded, or no information gets to the destination at all.” This is a fundamental skill and assessed scenario in the field of education. A similar occurrence of miscommunication happens in computer science, when used applications such as Python and Processing. While both programs use Java as their language system, each has its own rules or contexts that call for specificity in order to manifest successful result; just like with HTML and CSS.

In terms of noise, I was interested to learn the variety in ways it can interfere with information retrieval and how people are more invested in the meaning as opposed to the sign. Could a cultural predisposition qualify as noise? Could a cognitive or sensory malady, like colorblindness or dyslexia could fall under the category of noise? What about non-visual cues, like stressing about paying bills during a Philosophy exam?

As we have discussed preciously in regards to the social importance of meaning over signs, it’s never just a phone or a shoe. Culturally, we have attributed meaning to a branded commodity, which signifies things like our fashion taste, socioeconomic status or moral composition. The inclusion or exclusion of an object or sign carries great meaning, such as the exclusion of a signal in a movie title or the inclusion of more signs than another. However, as Professor Irvine explained in this key concepts video, meaning is not stagnant but instead temporal and ever evolving. The meanings are fluid and cannot be pinpointed. Information is translated to fit into a meaning, unique to its recipient based on their previous experiences and use of the signs or information. Because of this flexibility of sign systems, the possibilities of meanings in the far or immediate future cannot be predicted.

The (Dis)Connection of Signs: Meaning-Making and Our Symbolic Cognition

My overall takeaways from this week’s readings are scattered, but carry a similar theme of association and standards in language. I will first begin with C.S. Peirce’s examination of signs.

Attempting to dissect the origin of a thought is like asking whether the chicken or the egg came first – it’s an implausible task. C.S. Peirce asserts that all thoughts are a compilation and a translation of continuously growing signs.

Concepts we could not fathom of knowing in weeks, days or even hours can all be obtained through this link of symbol-filled thoughts. As Peirce says, “He makes in his imagination a sort of skeleton diagram, our outline sketch, of himself, considers what modifications the hypothetical state of things would require to be made in that picture, and then examines it, that is, observes what he has imagined, to see whether the same ardent desire is there to be discerned.” Peirce’s deciphering of symbolic connections and self-fulfillment is a testament to the journey of life and particularly the intellectual paths of those in CCT.

Clearly stated in Peirce’s theory is that a sign stands in place of an object, of which something is represented. As explained there are three categories of signs: likenesses, indications and symbols. Each distinction of signs has made its way into some of our most beloved family games: Likenesses is Charades, Indications is Pictionary and the most intriguing to me – Symbols – is Word Association. Symbols seem to be most explicitly contingent on prior exposures to a specific idea or image for correlation. The more narrowcast the symbol, the more refined the representation or interpretant– you say jazz, I think Davis and Coltrane; you say art, I think Basquiat and Banksy; you say CCT, I think deblackbox and Booeymonger’s. It feeds off of connections and mental prototypes. (It would be great if we can briefly grapple with this sign-representation-interpretant model for a better understanding.)

Thoughts, which are signs, are ultimately derivative of one another. However, I’m interested in how symbols come to be related to other signs. The element of branding for companies relates to this idea of semiology, just as much as artists – both musical and visual – have a signature. Emblems and pictorial signs serve as an optical trigger for consumers; some typographical fonts are specialized for companies, such as Cadillac’s cursive typeface or Popeye’s thick, rounded lettering. Musical artist Sia is known for her vibrant blonde bob hair and performing with her back to the audience – all of these are signs associated with a subject.



With Jakobson’s model of verbal communication, I questioned the effects of the frequent and evident sociolinguistic disconnect in academic settings. All components are present except aligning contexts and codes. The plight of many educators is to lessen this gap by reaching a midpoint for high academic standards and marginally well-rounded students. Also, the patterns of this symbolic ping-ponging are monitored closely and often inadequacies shove pupils into the categories of needing remedial attention. In this respect, the standards of verbal communication should be re-examined as not to stigmatize a linguistic standard or pattern that lies outside the margins of the typical code or context.

Finally, I want to place a cognitive bookmark on this excerpt from this week’s reading: “…Only the associations sanctioned by that language appears to us to conform to reality, and we disregard whatever others might be imagined.” The grammar, or rules, of a language is constricting. However, what does it say when such symbolic obstruction is shared by multiple grammars, as if a staple for universal grammar? Are these obstructions politically/socially enforced?


“Get The Picture?” : Historicizing How We Follow the Signs for the Sake of Survival and Interpersonal Communication

Did you know that most of subtle of body cues could be the difference between whether you live or die in an encounter with a cougar in the woods? Not exactly the most obvious survival tidbit for trekking the rugged terrain, but necessary when considering you can’t just talk your way out of a duel with a 130-pound feline. Why? Because it’s not a human, meaning it won’t understand the sounds you utter because it’s not a member of “the symbolic species.” And while plenty of blog posts have been about reading the signs of animalistic non-human body language, we do not wholeheartedly understand them either. In fact, because of distinctive cultural meaning systems, it seems we, humans, don’t fully understand one another.

As we know, miscommunication and bad wiring with cultural standards lie at the heart of most domestic and international conflicts (thank goodness for United Nations). For example, translation from spoken and written language to another is not always as smooth and precise as one would hope in multicultural dialogue. Yet, verbal and nonverbal communication gets misconstrued even amongst those of the same national origin and native tongue.

I remember having a conversation with my relatives about their upbringing and what their parents taught them about interacting with police officers. In the wake of the Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown tragedies – and having a general understanding of the historical strain between law enforcement and the Black community – I predicted that this discussion would have undertones of mistrust for the police. And I was correct. My female cousins narrated lessons from their elders telling them to consult a neighbor or trusted member of the community, not a police officer, if you needed help. More striking was the talk I received from my father, who said “Don’t catch an attitude with police” and “Don’t make any sudden movements in your car if you get pulled over,” insinuating that the wrong move – the wrong symbol delivery – could render guns being drawn. Message received.

In Kate Wong’s text, “The Morning of the Modern Mind: Symbolic Culture,” she examines the rise of material symbols as a means to “foster good relationship with others as a hedge against hard times.” And while this holds true in gift-giving scenarios, general interpersonal relationships are strained and dependent on the physical and mental exchange of symbols. A conjecture of signs could equate to triggering a defense mechanism: hazy air plus the smell of smoke and a rush of heat could lead one to suspect that a fire is near. In such a case, symbolism is a vital means of survival. But what about socially constructed and skewed symbols? A person is walking at night approximately 50 feet behind you with a dark hoodie and their hands in their pockets – does your instinct activate defensive tendencies as a means of survival or are you merely jumping to hasty conclusions about this person? That takes a lengthy deblackboxing of interacting systems.

This reflection on social cues and body language evoked thoughts about the creation of symbols for survival and commemoration within African and African American culture. A method of quilting, using geometric Afrocentric shapes and symbols, was practiced as a means of communicating when it was safe for slaves to escape to freedom. The Adinkra symbolic system originated in the Ivory Coast, thanks to the Gyaman kingdom. After being defeated by the Asantes, the king of Gyaman, Nana kofi Adinkra, wore a cloth adorned with symbols and patterns to express the sorrow of his loss. These Gyaman signs were adopted by the Asante people and later sketched on clothes, typically worn during at funerals to bid farewell to deceased loved ones. (Adinkra translates to goodbye or farewell in Twi, the dialect of the Akan ethnic group to which Asante people belong). [1]

Later in the text, Wong delves into the history of material culture and its primitive purpose as vessels for peace offerings. In the social media realm, it seems that likes and retweets/reblogs are the new measures for keeping that interpersonal peace. Users exchange symbols of approval to others within their digital reach. Similarly, with all symbols of communication, the omission or neglect of sending a signal or symbol – silence or virtual silence, if you will – is a sign in itself, typically of disrespect or disapproval. (See: the cold shoulder, the silent treatment in intimate relationships).

Before I wrap up this reflection, I think it’s important to note the universality of a particularly new craze in symbolic systems: the emoji.

Colin Renfrew explained it perfectly: “We live in a world which we have made: it is a world of artefacts, to the extent that is almost true to say that the world in which most of us live today is an artifact, albeit a complex one.”

Merging this pictorial meaning system with alphanumeric characters is creating new and breaking old bonds for written communication. I love using emojis because they add a creative layer to mundane language. While the emoji character options are finite, their incorporation into written dialogue adds a layer of animation and tone that gets misconstrued with text only.*


*Professor Tinkcom mentioned a book by Bing Xu, titled Book from the ground: from point to point, composed mostly of pictograms, with few textual symbols. I certainly plan on investigating this book, given my almost excessive use of emojis, to see if I can successfully get through it without blowing my mind each time. I recommend you all check it out, too.

[1] Teeteh, Valentina A. “Adinkra – Cultural Symbols of the Asante People.” St. Lawrence

University. stlawu.edu. Web. 27 January 2015.