28. Seven More Ways of Looking at Tools
(Epistemic status: Spitballing and theorizing grounded in lived experience you likely share; pace JSW.)
(1.) A good tool is something that generalizes well off-distribution; the purpose of the tool should still be approximately possible if whatever the tool is made to act on is noncentral in some way. l If I have a tool for picking up metal objects, it should not suddenly fail if I try to pick up a wooden object with it, except if I understand in advance that this is a metal-picker-upper. If I can use an instant pot to cook oatmeal, I should reasonably be able to expect it to handle rice and steamed vegetables adequately and not, say, catch fire. This also means that good tools can sometimes be hazardous tools, because humans are made of matter, and many tools are about making sweeping or pivotal alterations to basically arbitrary matter.
(2.) Tools are a type of thing that can meaningfully be combined in superadditive ways. If I have a pair of tweezers, I can pick up small objects. If I have a tiny paintbrush, I can apply paint to single sides of small objects. If I have both, I can in principle paint detailed scenes on rice grains. If I have a fork, I can spear food. If I have a spoon, I can scoop food. If I have both, I can eat noodles in sophisticated ways. If I have a hammer, I can bash things. If I have an anvil, I… can’t actually do much but weight things down or have a strong work surface. If I have both, I can work hot metal into arbitrary shapes.
(3.) Tools can often even compose with other copies of themselves in superadditive ways. My favorite example of this is chopsticks. With a single chopstick, you can spread paste, spear cherry tomatoes, and stir pots. With pairs of chopsticks, you can pick up arbitrary smallish lightish objects, on top of doing everything a single chopstick can do, more than twice as well. With a single fork, you can spear objects. With two forks, you can shred those same objects. With a single knife, you can cut reasonably soft objects that are also firm enough not to bend out of the way. With two knives, plus some kind of fastener, you can cut flimsy objects like paper, cloth, and basil leaves; we call this a pair of scissors.
(4.) Some tools have side-effects - they give off heat or light or sound or vibration, as an essential part of their operation which can nonetheless be annoying or hazardous. Welding equipment, jackhammers, lasers, acetylene torches, and firearms (including, amusingly, kiln shotguns) are all examples of this pattern. Good tools protect the operator to some extent from the consequences of their use; some tools exist purely to serve the function of protecting operators from the side-effects of other tools. Hearing protection, safety glasses, reflective or otherwise heat-resistant jackets, and gloves are examples of this design pattern.
(5.) Tools come in scale-families. Looked at a different way, tools can be scale-invariant. Spoons exist - this much we can hopefully agree on. Spoons are - can basically be defined by being - tools for scooping up granular matter, or similar kinds of stuff, like liquids, pastes, and aggregates. They are also roughly hand-sized. But also: tiny spoons exist - the kind used for sauces or sugar or the like - and are pretty much the same kind of tool, except smaller. Hand shovels and excavator buckets exist, too, with much the same purpose, and are also the same kind of tool, except larger. Much the same is true of batteries. Much the same is true of knives. Much the same is true of lenses. I could go on but will not.
(6.) Tools have skill curves. They have additional or augmented applicability, if the operator is particularly precise or imaginative or skilled. Some possible uses for a given tool are basically impossible for an underskilled operator to unlock; if you’re not great with chopsticks, you can’t eat rice with them. Some possible uses for a tool are non-obvious and won’t be independently discovered by an unimaginative operator; if you don’t mess around with your cool sunhat, you won’t realize that you can mold the brim, and if you aren’t told about what the back of a hammer does, you might not think to use it to pull nails.
(7.) There are distinctions to be drawn among what I would term tools, catalysts, reagents, and consumables. Tools are relatively durable and reusable, and fill some gap in a plan through skilled operation; think hammers and needles. Catalysts need not be durable and might have limited reuse, and fill gaps in plans without the need for particularly skilled operation; think workbenches and lamps. Reagents generally need not be durable and can’t be reused; skilled operation acts on them to produce some product that fills a gap in a plan; think cloth (when it’s to be turned into a garment) and eggs. Consumables are basically single-use tools, directly usable to fill a gap in a plan through possibly-skilled application; think kerosene as fuel or cyanoacrylate glue.
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(1.) A good tool is something that generalizes well off-distribution; the purpose of the tool should still be approximately possible if whatever the tool is made to act on is noncentral in some way. l If I have a tool for picking up metal objects, it should not suddenly fail if I try to pick up a wooden object with it, except if I understand in advance that this is a metal-picker-upper. If I can use an instant pot to cook oatmeal, I should reasonably be able to expect it to handle rice and steamed vegetables adequately and not, say, catch fire. This also means that good tools can sometimes be hazardous tools, because humans are made of matter, and many tools are about making sweeping or pivotal alterations to basically arbitrary matter.
(2.) Tools are a type of thing that can meaningfully be combined in superadditive ways. If I have a pair of tweezers, I can pick up small objects. If I have a tiny paintbrush, I can apply paint to single sides of small objects. If I have both, I can in principle paint detailed scenes on rice grains. If I have a fork, I can spear food. If I have a spoon, I can scoop food. If I have both, I can eat noodles in sophisticated ways. If I have a hammer, I can bash things. If I have an anvil, I… can’t actually do much but weight things down or have a strong work surface. If I have both, I can work hot metal into arbitrary shapes.
(3.) Tools can often even compose with other copies of themselves in superadditive ways. My favorite example of this is chopsticks. With a single chopstick, you can spread paste, spear cherry tomatoes, and stir pots. With pairs of chopsticks, you can pick up arbitrary smallish lightish objects, on top of doing everything a single chopstick can do, more than twice as well. With a single fork, you can spear objects. With two forks, you can shred those same objects. With a single knife, you can cut reasonably soft objects that are also firm enough not to bend out of the way. With two knives, plus some kind of fastener, you can cut flimsy objects like paper, cloth, and basil leaves; we call this a pair of scissors.
(4.) Some tools have side-effects - they give off heat or light or sound or vibration, as an essential part of their operation which can nonetheless be annoying or hazardous. Welding equipment, jackhammers, lasers, acetylene torches, and firearms (including, amusingly, kiln shotguns) are all examples of this pattern. Good tools protect the operator to some extent from the consequences of their use; some tools exist purely to serve the function of protecting operators from the side-effects of other tools. Hearing protection, safety glasses, reflective or otherwise heat-resistant jackets, and gloves are examples of this design pattern.
(5.) Tools come in scale-families. Looked at a different way, tools can be scale-invariant. Spoons exist - this much we can hopefully agree on. Spoons are - can basically be defined by being - tools for scooping up granular matter, or similar kinds of stuff, like liquids, pastes, and aggregates. They are also roughly hand-sized. But also: tiny spoons exist - the kind used for sauces or sugar or the like - and are pretty much the same kind of tool, except smaller. Hand shovels and excavator buckets exist, too, with much the same purpose, and are also the same kind of tool, except larger. Much the same is true of batteries. Much the same is true of knives. Much the same is true of lenses. I could go on but will not.
(6.) Tools have skill curves. They have additional or augmented applicability, if the operator is particularly precise or imaginative or skilled. Some possible uses for a given tool are basically impossible for an underskilled operator to unlock; if you’re not great with chopsticks, you can’t eat rice with them. Some possible uses for a tool are non-obvious and won’t be independently discovered by an unimaginative operator; if you don’t mess around with your cool sunhat, you won’t realize that you can mold the brim, and if you aren’t told about what the back of a hammer does, you might not think to use it to pull nails.
(7.) There are distinctions to be drawn among what I would term tools, catalysts, reagents, and consumables. Tools are relatively durable and reusable, and fill some gap in a plan through skilled operation; think hammers and needles. Catalysts need not be durable and might have limited reuse, and fill gaps in plans without the need for particularly skilled operation; think workbenches and lamps. Reagents generally need not be durable and can’t be reused; skilled operation acts on them to produce some product that fills a gap in a plan; think cloth (when it’s to be turned into a garment) and eggs. Consumables are basically single-use tools, directly usable to fill a gap in a plan through possibly-skilled application; think kerosene as fuel or cyanoacrylate glue.
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