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256 pages, Hardcover
Published September 12, 2023
Optimal Illusions found a place on my reading list, and got me to read it relatively soon after I placed it there, because it is billed as a book in which a leading data scientist explores the flaws involved with optimization. These are not false claims, per se, but they are somewhat misleading. Don’t go into the book expecting math-forward investigations of optimization methods, or even a rigorous exploration of optimization itself. Optimal Illusions is written by a data scientist, and it is about the flaws involved with optimization, but Krumme seems to mistake correlation for causation, attributing to optimization real modern malaises alongside subjective discontents.
Mathematically, optimization is all about finding maxima or minima. If you can define the variables of a system, and ascribe functions to each of them, you can create a parametric, multivariate function in n-dimensions, and use a variety of techniques to find the peaks and valleys of the resulting topography. Most of us do this routinely, and without the explicit mathematical formulation, with a handful of variables in our daily lives. We might optimize the route we take for time spent, or the activities in which we engage for personal benefit.
That is the process of optimization, and my hope was that the book would discuss issues with the mathematical process, or with the ways we implement it. Mathematical functions, especially the more complex and esoteric they become, and produce results that do not align with what we want from them, and I hoped that the book would parse, for instance, how advanced optimization formulae sometimes produce peculiar results. Instead, Krumme’s ills, which she blames on optimization, are shortcomings of the people doing the optimizing.
Krumme cites recent supply chain issues as an example of optimization gone wrong, and in one sense that’s true. The supply chains broke down because they were over-optimized in one or two dimensions at the expense of other dimensions, like resiliency. However, that’s not really the fault of the optimization process, but of the choices made by the people doing the optimizing. The optimization did exactly what it was supposed to, but its builders did not account for all of the variables or did not sufficiently weight some of them.
Think of it like going for a run. Say your goal is to complete the run as fast as possible. If the only factor you consider in your optimization is your running pace, then your optimization will tell you to sprint. Sprinting will cover the distance the fastest, but if you’re trying to run a marathon, you’re going to have some issues. Those issues aren’t the fault of the optimization, but of not considering enough variables when you built it. If you factor in distance and what paces you can sustain and for how long, the optimization will give you a better picture of what your best average pace should be to finish the marathon in the fastest possible time. All of which presupposes that the goal is to complete the run as fast as possible, but maybe you have a different goal.
Instead, maybe distance and speed don’t matter to you – you want to see the most interesting things when you go for your run. You could assign weights to things of interest in a certain radius from your starting point, plug in your running characteristics, and have your optimizer provide you with a best route to run to see the most interesting things, perhaps with constraints like needing to finish it in a certain time or only run a certain distance. Alternatively, you could have your optimizer optimize for distance, pace, and spots of interest, and the system would balance those objectives to provide a solution that is not the shortest, not the fastest, and not the most interesting, but has the maximum of all these factors.
Going back to visualizing optimizations like topography, imagine those three variables are functions plotted along three dimensions. One dimension is speed (x), one dimension is distance (y), and one dimension is interest (z). Each of these variables can be characterized as a mathematical function, and they will have some relationship. If you want to find the solution that will offer you the fastest speed, the shortest distance, and the most interest, you would search for where x, y, and z have a shared maximum (or minimum, depending on how you structured your parameterizations). That maximum will not be the highest x ever gets, or y ever gets, or z ever gets, but it is where all three of them are highest at the same time.
Optimization is a methodology, not a philosophy, but Krumme treats it like a philosophy and a way of life, and problematic at that. She asserts that our entire framework of optimization is undermining our potential for human flourishing, harming our environment, and exacerbating societal ills. These, though, are failures of specific optimizations, not of optimization as a process. If you’re dissatisfied with your life, it is not the fault of optimization as a method, but of optimizing for the wrong things, consciously or unconsciously.
To Krumme’s credit, she acknowledges that neither leaning further into optimization nor attempting to return to some earlier, notional, Edenic state will address the discontent she feels or the malaises she sees, but her proposed solutions are incoherent at best because, as already emphasized, optimization is not the cause of these states. Optimization is a tool, not an organizational principle or a philosophy; using it to fill those roles is akin to using sandpaper to cut down a redwood.
Thus, much of Optimal Illusions feels like it’s dancing around the main issue without ever naming it, or even quite identifying it. Its attempts at personal anecdotes and flowery language feel forced and unnatural, and the overall product is, well, suboptimal. Though it highlights numerous, surface-level conditions, it does not follow up on those ideas. The end result is a book that reads like the author listing perceived problems without understanding the underlying ideas or even why they are perceived as problems, much less suggesting solutions. Optimization might be Krumme’s hammer, but for her readers, the world isn’t made of nails.