The key intuition behind the concept of information is the narrowing of possibilities. The more that possibilities are narrowed down, the greater the information. If I tell you I’m on planet Earth, I haven’t conveyed any information because you already knew that (let’s leave aside space travel). If I tell you I’m in the United States, I’ve begun to narrow down where I am in the world. If I tell you I’m in Texas, I’ve narrowed down my location further. If I tell you I’m forty miles north of Dallas, I’ve narrowed my location down even further. As I keep narrowing down my location, I’m providing you with more and more information.

Information is therefore, in its essence, exclusionary: the more possibilities are excluded, the greater the information provided. As philosopher Robert Stalnaker put it in his book Inquiry: “To learn something, to acquire information, is to rule out possibilities. To understand the information conveyed in a communication is to know what possibilities would be excluded by its truth.” I’m excluding much more of the world when I say I’m in Texas forty miles north of Dallas as opposed to when I say I’m merely in the United States. Accordingly, to say I’m in Texas north of Dallas conveys much more information than simply to say I’m in the United States.

An Exclusionary Understanding

The etymology of the word “information” is congruent with this exclusionary understanding of information. The word derives from the Latin preposition in, meaning in or into, and the verb formare, meaning to give shape to. Information puts definite shape into something. But that means ruling out other shapes. Information narrows down the shape in question. A completely unformed shmoo is waiting in limbo to receive information. But until it is given definite shape, it exhibits no information.

The fundamental intuition of information as narrowing down possibilities matches up neatly with the concept of intelligence. The word intelligence derives from two Latin words: the preposition inter, meaning between, and the verb legere, meaning to choose. Intelligence thus, at its most fundamental, signifies the ability to choose between. But when a choice is made, some possibilities are actualized to the exclusion of others, implying the narrowing of possibilities. And so, an act of intelligence is also an act of information.

A Narrowing of Possibilities

A synonym for the word choose is decide. This last word is likewise from the Latin, combining the preposition de, meaning down from, and the verb caedere, meaning to cut off or kill (compare our English word homicide). Decisions, in keeping with this etymology, raise up some possibilities by cutting down, or killing off, others. When you decide to marry one person, you cut off all the other people you might marry. An act of decision is therefore always a narrowing of possibilities. It is an informational act. But given the definition of intelligence as choosing between, it is also an intelligent act.

Given the etymology of information and intelligence, it’s obvious that the two are related notions. The million dollar question in connecting the two is how we can know when an intelligence is actually responsible for an item of information. Information can happen naturally — a rock falls naturally here rather than there. But information can also happen intelligently — a rock may be put deliberately here rather than there. So how do we tell the difference? 

Answering that question is the whole point of specified complexity and the design inference. If you’ve got the time and inclination to probe this question deeply, get the book: William A. Dembski and Winston Ewert, The Design Inference, 2nd edition. Otherwise, stay tuned here — I’ll be providing a user-friendly synopsis of how to know when an intelligence is responsible for information.

Postscript

The featured image here may look like a random inkblot, but it’s not. Many people don’t at first see what’s there. Once they see it, they know that the information there is the product of intelligence. But until then, they would be within their rights to think that it’s just a random naturally-formed inkblot.

Cross-posted at Bill Dembski on Substack.