A strong interest in the Humanities has always motivated my intellectual pursuits. I was one of only two Triple Humanities students during my time at Raffles Institution and a member of the Humanities Programme at Hwa Chong. My academic background traverses a range of humanistic disciplines: Literature (my B.A. degree), Theatre and Drama (my M.Phil. in Ibsen Studies), and Philosophy (Ph.D. in Philosophy). A joke I often tell Literature majors is that I spent the majority of my undergraduate years holed up in a library reading philosophical texts. Philosophy has since become my bread and butter (I earn my living off it!), although I am grateful that the wide-ranging nature of Philosophy allows me to venture far and wide and conduct my research in verdant and expansive intellectual pastures.

As a PhD candidate in Philosophy with formal training in Literature, I was initially keen to explore the role that the narrative plays in allowing us to make sense of what we might owe to one another (morally speaking). This became the topic of my doctoral-level dissertation, four chapters of which ended up getting published in academic journals. I then became interested in creative cognition research. How can we better understand the processes and mechanisms underlying creative activity? This interest sprang from my background as a painter in the realist tradition. My interest in human beings naturally drew me from an early age toward the genre of portrait art and away from other genres (e.g., still life, landscape, etc). As an artist, I specialize in the use of India ink and acrylic. A study of Lord Leighton’s Orpheus & Eurydice has been published in Heartbeat Literary Journal (see this link). Over the course of my research, I discovered AI systems that were capable of generating creative output across a range of artistic fields. This culminated in a paper on imagination machines that was eventually published in AI & Society.

In a way, you could argue that my background in painting paved the way for my interest in the philosophy of AI, with creative cognition and creative AI systems functioning as intellectual waystations. The philosophy of AI has since become my research niche, although my work tends to push the boundaries of what might be considered as traditional or standard philosophy. I have collaborated with STEM researchers (mathematicians, physicists, computer scientists, medical doctors) to develop Markov models that help medical professionals predict the effects of their policies on the healthcare outcomes of patients and geospatial analytic and other related technological tools that help identify trends in the behaviour of long-tailed macaques, mitigate human-macaque conflict, and promote a harmonious co-existence between human beings and animal wildlife at NTU. I regard AI systems as advanced computational tools that, when appropriately developed and deployed, can help humanity fulfil various goals and ends. At the same time, I am aware that AI systems are often likened to magical silver bullets that can solve any kind of problem. As a philosopher, I see it as my task to de-mystify AI systems, offer a critical perspective, and develop – as best as my collaborators and I can – various human-centred AI tools for specific problems that I care about (e.g., healthcare, nature).

This brings me to my recent exploits as a self-taught programmer. LaTeX is a typesetting program that allows you to generate beautiful mathematical and logical notation (see this link for the LaTeX resources I have created), complex graphs and diagrams, and manuscripts and documents. Having previously taught myself to script in LaTeX, I decided to set myself the challenge of picking up programming languages over the course of COVID-19. In 2019, I picked up the tools (html, css, js) for web-based programming and have gone on to code my personal website (see this link), the research website for my medical AI project (see this link), and an online encyclopedia (of sorts) for my son Henrik (see this link). More recently, I have picked up Python and written programs for a causal calculator (see this link), a Sudoku puzzle generator and solver (see this link), and natural language processing (see this link). My experience has taught me the following: you are never too old to pick up new skills, learning how to programme is analogous to both learning a new language and figuring out how to reason in an even more systematic manner, and the creative process does not differ as much as I thought it might when painting and when writing programs. In its finest moments, AI research may be compared to a neat blend of philosophy and engineering: we dream of what is possible, while remaining aware of the critical limitations of our state-of-the-art AI systems, plugging away, and developing tools that work and help us on our way in performing tasks and solving problems. When AI systems come up short against human beings, you get an even keener appreciation of the wonders of human intelligence (not easy to replicate or surpass). When AI systems succeed in pre-determined tasks, you can equally celebrate the wonders of the human intellect (capable of designing such systems). What could be more humanistic than that?

Submission by:

Dr Melvin Chen

Assistant Chair (Communications & Outreach)

Faculty Member (NTU-USP & Philosophy)

School of Humanities

NTU-USP interviews aren’t formal and scary. They’re chill. Relak, you know. We just want to get to know potential candidates, hear you speak, and enjoy the short time with have with you.

I’m not going to reveal the questions we ask candidates during the interviews. It’s about the questions you, the candidates ask us.

Most of you ask about our curriculum, student life, TOPS, Study Abroad, hall life. We often get asked what the life of our scholar is like in terms of challenges, joys, and such. I just tell them, I can’t speak for our scholars, but just take a look at their social media postings. Everything there is exactly what they are! The truth is in the images and stories.

I would like to share some questions that are not frequently asked, but I do get these questions every year since 2015, the year I joined NTU-USP.

Question: What are we looking for during the interview – what could you have prepared?

My Answer: Be yourself. If you’re an introvert, that’s fine. If you’re an extrovert, that’s fine too. If you’re somewhere in between – yes, that is of course fine. If you applied to be a Chemistry, Aerospace Engineering or Business major, it’s okay to tell us that you also loved dressing up for your Secondary school plays. If you applied for Art, Design, and Media (ADM), Sociology, or History, you can also tell us how you’re fascinated with wormholes and you’re also nuts about graphs and charts. There’s nothing like being your authentic self. This is why we have all kinds of personalities in our little NTU-USP family. And these include our office staff and faculty!

Question: What do we expect of our current scholars?

My Answer: Well, being Singaporean, my first unspoken expectation is that you keep doing well in your studies. I say ‘unspoken’ because this is not even something I would tell you to do – it is expected of you! Other expectations? Intellectual humility. You are already quite an achiever. Carrying yourselves with humility and serving others – these are noble things to do, yes? And of course – again, I repeat – I want you to continue being your authentic selves. It’s even alright to be angry and talk through your feelings. However, please don’t take your frustrations on others!

Finally, this is my favourite Question: What do we like about NTU-USP?

My Answer: It’ll take me hours to tell you! But I’ll try to be focused. First thing – it’s the students! They are such a joy to be around with. I don’t teach the core mods, and I seldom offer electives, so my infrequent interactions with them are so special. TOPS is special, not for the travel, but because I get to know the group members I mentor. USPresents – I love seeing how cast and crew bond with each other. The final presentation is also emotional for me, although I don’t do much for the production at all, other than to look at drafts and the final script. Then there’re my colleagues and our NTU-USP admin staff. How not to enjoy being part of the NTU-USP family?!

Now, the NTU-USP Application Essays – I’m tasked to read and grade every single NTU-USP application essay. Yes, about nearly 300 of them every year. This year the Question is different from the previous years. I really enjoyed this year’s essays and I want to share some of the people mentioned in the essays. These figures were mentioned many times – Lee Kuan Yew, Qin Shu Huang, Leonardo da Vinci, Steve Jobs, Joan of Arc. Adolf Hitler and Jesus Christ were mentioned twice each. It’s fascinating how the candidates reveal so much of themselves while writing the essays.

I learn so much from bright young minds through these interviews and essays. I also see so much hope in our youth – including those whom I met, read their essays, and eventually rejected us for another university. Of course, those who stayed – you’re so precious and special, every single one of you!

Submission by:

Dr Geraldine Song

Associate Chair (Students)

Senior Lecturer, English

School of Humanities

Walked through the streets of San Francisco recently, I saw countless ads by tech industry, many of them for the tech industry. A company called Workato was responsible for one of the most eye-catching set of slogans: “Automate the W*RK out of invoicing.” “Automate the W*RK out of UX Design.” The notion that white-collar labor can be automated is deeply attractive to business leaders and stockholders, and just as anxiety-provoking for undergraduates worried that their future careers may be automated away. “The Future of Work” can seem exciting for many, but it is also threatening. In many parts of the world, including the United States, students have increasingly chosen careers in finance or coding for their stability. But as these ads suggest, even these jobs are at risk.

Much of the time, students feel pressured to adapt themselves to the vaguely defined future of work. But while they are being told they need to adapt their interests to that suppose future, they aren’t being told exactly how. Is there a better recipe for anxiety, or a sense of powerlessness? When the future of work is uncertain, a broad-based education such as that NTU-USP offers a sense of security. A single skill, or body of knowledge, can be automated or become obsolete. But learning a range of disciplines – and learning flexibility as a learner — helps us ensure that we always have something to offer.

At the same time, I like to encourage my USP students to be more than simply flexible units of human capital, ready to fit into any role the economy demands. First, I remind them of what should be obvious: human beings make the economy. Human beings as in you and me. We decide what work will look like in the future. All too often we talk about technological and economic change like they are tsunamis — natural forces over which we have no control. In reality, these changes are the product of decisions made by the powerful and less powerful.

There is an important implication for anyone trying to design a more useful university education. The technological changes we have heard so much – AI, machine learning, etc. — are not guaranteed to come about, or turn the world upside-down if they do. Plenty of counterevidence exists that technological breakthroughs are slowing down, not speeding up! (A cynical take: In some ways, AI may be seen as a response to that problem. Unable to match the technological progress of our predecessors, we dream that machines will carry on the pace of discovery and innovation for us, that they will “Automate the W*RK out of invention,” so to speak).

For this and other reasons, I urge my scholars not to choose their educational or career paths based on predictions that may or may not come to pass. There is no particular guarantee that learning any one particular subject or skill will help anyone survive the tsunami of economic and technological change. My opinion may be a controversial one, but I see no particular reason to think that such an event is in progress now, or imminent. Whether I am right or not, I firmly encourage students to make up their own minds about what the future of the world will look like. And I remind them that they help determine that. Rather than fit themselves into the future of the work, I urge them to make the future their work.

Submission by:

Dr Justin Clark

Assistant Professor, History

School of Humanities

It’s a seriously happy day for a scholarly team when the fruits of their labour are published. After months – sometimes years – of tireless work, twists and turns, and minor (or major) setbacks, the culminating publication reminds the researchers that it’s all worth it. It signals the completion of at least some aspect of the project, which the team owes funders and stakeholders, but also themselves and humankind. It carries recognition from peers of the rigour and value of the work. And it means the findings have “gotten out there:” the whole wide world – okay, part of it – is finally privy to what the team had been so keen to share all along. As such, it stands a greater chance to make a real impact. 

In my humble opinion, when that team crosses academic disciplines, it means even more.  

My scientific training is rooted in an experimental psychology. While I have broad interests in applied cognitive psychology, my PhD focused almost entirely about memory distortion, which has a natural application to the law. Immediately after my PhD, I worked in trial consulting, during which I explored juror decision-making in both mock and real trial scenarios.  

 Cut to 2019: my friend and collaborator, Dr Jacob Phelps, an environmental social scientist at the University of Lancaster, colloquially described to me a challenge he faced. He was interested in the use of civil lawsuits to remedy environmental harm, such as illegal wildlife trade. But when he asked judges about how they would rule in such cases, he struggled to obtain useful information. Over a casual chat and coffee (the best research ideas are certainly bred over food and drink), a research idea was born: we would present judges with an abridged, hypothetical case in mock trial format, and ask them to make rulings as if they were ruling in an actual case. This way, we could better learn how judges might handle argument and evidence in the context of such a trial. Was I an expert in the scholarship of wildlife conservation? Hardly. Do environmental scientists use mock trial methods in their research? Not so much. But did that stop us? Not in the slightest. The research was too important. There is too much at stake.   

In the end, I joined Dr Phelps and Ms Rika Fajrini, an Indonesian lawyer with experience in forest and land governance, to investigate judicial decision-making in the context of a mock trial about the illegal trade of two baby tigers. You can read about our work in Biological Conservation and hear about key findings here.  

The road was nonlinear. Each of us come from a discipline with its own tradition to form research questions, its own approaches to research design, and its own analytic methods. For me, the Indonesian context of the study provided language challenges, new legal systems and philosophies of jurisprudence to understand, and new cultural norms for working teams in NGO and governmental contexts. There was even disbelief at some point that it the project would “ever work,” given the degree of involvement the project required from our judge participants. And with a raging pandemic, the project lasted longer than expected. But through perseverance, leveraging upon the strengths of our diversity, and the sheer magic (and fun!) of interdisciplinary collaboration, we now know something about judicial reasoning that can promote pro-environmental outcomes.  

And this, by far, was worth the while.  

For more, see Fajrini, R., Nichols, R. M., & Phelps, J. (2022). Poacher pays? Judges’ liability decisions in a mock trial about environmental harm caused by illegal wildlife trade. Biological Conservation, 266, 109445. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.biocon.2021.109445 

Submission by:

Dr Rebecca Nichols

Lecturer, Psychology

School of Social Sciences

In mid-December, I was invited to give a “Last Lecture”. This is an excellent idea, to invite lecturers to give a talk that summarises their parting advice to students even before they embark on their career.

Summarising my thoughts in one 40-minute talk was harder than I thought but I knew my very first point: be a “ranger”. Earlier in the year, I had stumbled upon a book by a sports journalist, David Epstein, titled “Range: How Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World” published 2020. The book begins with how when one asks successful people for their secret to success, many will say: this is how I did it, but do not follow my path. As I thought of my own path, it struck me that that was exactly what I would tell those who ask me.

My educational path is unusual. I did double-maths and physics and was headed to hardcore engineering, which was where most of my classmates landed when they won scholarships. I ended up in law. And then in a newspaper working as a journalist. And then doing a PhD in mass media, when there was no communication school in Singapore. I would echo the remarks of those interviewed by Epstein: do not follow my path.  

At a superficial level, following that line of don’t-follow-my-path thinking, it would mean that the path to success is not to follow the path of successful people. Of course, being more thoughtful (and, I would say, theoretical) there is a principle to be abstracted: and that is that one should “range”, ie try a variety of experiences because one never knows how events develop.

In the book, the contrasting metaphor is Tiger Woods vs Roger Federer. We know Tiger Woods as the golf prodigy who learned to play golf well before even going to elementary school. That is a common understanding of success: it’s Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000-hours-of-practice model. Start early and keep on drilling, in both senses.

In contrast, Roger Federer, a world tennis champion, played different sports such as basketball and football when he was young, before settling on tennis. This is the less publicised model for success but one that is more common for most people. (There is a YouTube video of Gladwell and Epstein talking about their perspectives.)

The academic response to reconcile the two contrasting approaches would be the failsafe academic answer: it depends. It depends if the sport is “static” such as golf or chess, then 10,000 hours of practice can lead to success. On the other hand, if the sport is “dynamic” such as tennis, then a “ranging” approach could work better.

In today’s world, where there are so much more options in work and business, I think that a ranging approach offers even more scope. There are so many interesting and varied jobs and possibilities. Who could have guessed that there could be an occupation label such as “influencer”?

It is possible to succeed by specialising. In my own household, my wife is the specialist—she did accounting and has stayed in that line throughout her working career. As a volunteer in non-profit organisations, she has ended up being the treasurer.

But for more of us, the ranging approach is worth trying.

In the metaphor of Tiger Woods, Epstein ponders the current fate of the former golf champion. Perhaps having a ranging approach might better equip him to address the dynamic nature of life itself.

Go range.

Submission by:

Professor Ang Peng Hwa

Director, NTU-USP