Information is not a neutral substance waiting to be transmitted, but rather a specific achievement of translation. It is what emerges when an actor, be it a scientist, a machine, or even a microbe, manages to make something else appear, to represent it, and to carry it across a distance. The very existence of "information" is thus a testament to the successful formation and maintenance of a network of associations, where its meaning is stabilized through practical engagement and collective action. We have never dealt with pure data; we have always dealt with what has been painstakingly *made* to signify.
The fundamental nature of information, as I see it, lies in its abstract existence as an encoded property. Information is not merely a pattern observed or a signal transmitted; it is an object in its own right, characterized by the properties it *encodes*. To understand information is to understand how abstract objects can possess properties without exemplifying them in the typical sense, a distinction crucial for avoiding paradoxes of self-reference and for modeling the intentionality of cognitive states.
Consider Bruno Latour's emphasis on translation and networks. While I agree that information is a product of making something appear and carrying it across a distance, this process is best understood through a framework where the *translated* content itself is an abstract object, a collection of encoded properties that can then be recursively represented and transmitted. The "stabilization of meaning" he speaks of is precisely the result of a well-defined object theory that allows us to precisely characterize the information being encoded, thereby grounding its stability in its formal structure.
Look, the whole fuss about "information" gets too abstract, too fast. The fundamental nature of it, to me, is simply about how things are arranged. It’s like a set of instructions, a recipe for how something *could* be, or how it *is*. It's the difference between a pile of bricks and a house. The bricks are just there, but when you arrange them in a specific pattern, you've got something that can *do* something, that has a function.
Latour talks about translation and networks, and that's part of it, sure. You have to get the arrangement from one place to another, and that involves people or machines figuring out the code. But the information itself isn't the *network* or the *act* of translating. It's the underlying pattern, the blueprint, that allows the translation to even make sense. If you just send a random jumble of signals, that's not information, no matter how good your translation machine is. It’s about the specific ordering of those bits that carry the meaning, that dictate a particular consequence. Zalta talks about abstract objects, and maybe, but I'd rather think about it in terms of what's happening, what's being *done*. It’s the *doing* that matters, the way one state leads to another because of how it's put together.
The fundamental nature of information, as I see it, lies not in its abstract properties or even its arrangement, but in its power to enable and sustain cooperation among large, diverse groups of organisms. Information, in its most potent form, is a shared fiction—a story that millions or billions of us collectively believe, and therefore act upon. This belief, this inter-subjective reality, is what allows us to build cities, manage economies, and launch rockets, far beyond the capabilities of any single chimpanzee.
Richard Feynman’s analogy of a recipe is useful, highlighting the *ordering* of elements. But the "recipe" for a nation, for money, or for a religion is not inherently real in the way that the chemical composition of a cake is. Its reality emerges from the consensus of belief. Edward Zalta's notion of abstract objects with encoded properties touches upon this, but it's the *human agreement* on the encoded properties of, say, a $100 bill, that makes it function as information, enabling transactions. Without that shared belief, it's just printed paper, incapable of facilitating cooperation. Latour’s emphasis on translation and networks is also pertinent; the spread and stabilization of these fictions, these informational frameworks, are indeed achieved through such processes. But the ultimate engine is not the network itself, but the collective faith invested in the story the network carries.
Information, in my view, is not a pre-existing blueprint, as Mr. Feynman suggests, nor is it the abstract object Mr. Zalta describes, detached from its instantiation. It is precisely the *work* of stabilization, the arduous process by which an actor – a scientist with a petri dish, a telegraph operator with a key, or even a rumour spread through a crowd – makes something *else* appear in a new form, and then manages to move that transformed entity. This is not about an inherent "ordering" or an abstract "property" existing prior to its inscription and circulation. The "blueprint" of a house, for example, only becomes *information* when it is rendered on paper, carried by an architect, and translated into the labor of builders. Without this process of translation and propagation, it remains mere potential.
The distinction between encoding and exemplifying properties is crucial here. While Mr. Harari rightly points to the power of shared belief in enabling cooperation, the *mechanism* by which that belief is sustained and transmitted relies on information being formally characterized. A $100 bill, for instance, is not merely a piece of paper we *collectively agree* has value. It is, within a formalized system of economics and law, an object that *encodes* specific properties—legal tender status, the signature of the Treasury Secretary—which are then *exemplified* by its physical tokens. This encoding allows us to reliably refer to and manipulate the concept of "value" in transactions, independently of any single individual's momentary belief. This formal structure, this abstract object encoding a bundle of properties, is what allows for the robust functioning of shared fictions and networks alike.
Look, Harari talks about "shared fictions" and Zalta about "abstract objects." But what *is* that, really? It's like this: if you have a bunch of people who all agree that a potato is a unicorn, fine. But that agreement doesn't make the potato sprout horns or grant wishes. The *information* is in the potato's actual arrangement of atoms, its biological properties. You can’t just *wish* it to be something else. The "shared fiction" has to connect to something real, some observable consequence, or it's just noise. The magic happens when the ordering of things—whether it's atoms in a potato, bits in a computer, or notes in a song—allows for a predictable interaction or transformation. It's the *potential for action* embedded in that arrangement.
The power of information is its capacity to transcend the purely physical or abstract, by anchoring itself in collective human belief. Richard Feynman’s example of a potato, while highlighting inherent physical properties, misses the point when applied to, say, national borders. No inherent atomic arrangement dictates that the land between two rivers is "France" or "Germany." This is information whose existence is entirely dependent on shared agreement – a fiction that allows millions to cooperate and defend that particular arbitrary line. Edward Zalta's concept of encoded properties is thus better understood not as an inherent abstract quality, but as a property *assigned* by this collective agreement. Without the shared fiction, the $100 bill is merely paper; its "encoded property" of value is a product of consensus, not an intrinsic feature of the ink and cotton.