Philosophy and Information Technology, Philosophy of Form

I once came across an article online that claimed philosophy would become meaningless with the rise of generative AI. (Why the article singled out "philosophy" as its target was unclear.) Even if generative AI were to render philosophy obsolete in the future, I would argue that today's information technology is, in fact, nothing less than the crystallization of certain traditions within Western philosophy.

For example, the modern computer, which operates through binary bits, could be seen as the embodiment of Pythagoras' famous dictum: "All is number." (It is worth noting that the binary system itself was developed by Leibniz.) Furthermore, the logic that underpins computing has its roots in the formal logic initiated by Aristotle. Generative AI, which produces language based on the probability of word occurrence, could also be interpreted as a realization of Hume's epistemology, in which human understanding is shaped not by the perception of causality but by mere contiguity and succession.

Above all, however, information technology today can be seen as enacting Plato's Theory of Forms in virtually every domain. What do I mean by this?

In modern programming — especially in object-oriented programming — concepts like "type safety" and "classes" are central. These are mechanisms for defining the form of information. To value type safety means to strictly define the structure of data that can be exchanged between program components (such as functions). For example, it prevents from mistakenly passing the character string "one" into a function that is expecting the numeric value 1, thereby reducing bugs. By specifying the form of information being transmitted, we can ensure the reliability and precision of data exchange.

A "class," in this context, is a blueprint that defines a data structure — a type. By instantiating this type with concrete values, one generates an "instance" (a particular object). The same class can be used repeatedly to create many such instances without rewriting code, promoting both efficiency and consistency. This relationship between a class and its instances mirrors the relationship between a universal concept such as "chair" and a particular "this chair." It is, in essence, the same relationship that Plato described between Idea and particulars, between the universal and the individual, between the abstract and the concrete. (Object-oriented languages even allow for "abstract classes" — classes that cannot be instantiated directly and serve purely as templates.) In this sense, object-oriented programming could be described as a modern technological expression of Plato's Theory of Forms.

This principle — ensuring the stability of information transfer by specifying its "form" — is ubiquitous in information technology. This is not a coincidence but a direct consequence of the very nature of "information," which, etymologically, means "to give form to."

Consider, for example, something as mundane as switching Wi-Fi routers on a smartphone. We complain when the connection is slow, and we praise it when it's fast — but why is it that our phones can seamlessly connect to routers from entirely different manufacturers? The answer lies in standardized communication protocols. These standards define the form of communication and ensure that devices can interoperate, regardless of their internal workings.

These protocols govern communication across every layer of computer systems. The OSI Reference Model, for instance, specifies formal interfaces and data structures for layers ranging from the physical (e.g., fiber optics), to the network (e.g., IP), to the application (e.g., software). Because the form of data exchanged between layers remains fixed, even if the internal mechanisms change, data can flow modularly and components remain interchangeable. This modularity is precisely why a smartphone can connect to a wide range of routers.

At the most fundamental level, modern computing is a physical implementation of formal logic and symbolic manipulation. From the Turing machine to lambda calculus to type theory, the core of computing is a system that generates, preserves, and transmits meaning by adhering to syntactic form.

Moreover, the role of form in shaping information is not confined to computer science. International standards (like ISO) are frameworks for socially defining and agreeing upon the form of knowledge and action — interfaces and structures that enable technical and semantic interoperability. Mathematics, too, enables communication precisely because its formal system of expression is fixed and universally recognized.

In this light, the proposition "information is form" recurs across programming, communication, computation, social systems, epistemology, and every realm in which information circulates. Plato, who first articulated the Theory of Forms, stands — whether knowingly or not — at the very origin of modern information technology. And yet, for all his insight into the power of form, one might say that Plato was, in a certain sense, captivated — perhaps even misled — by its allure.

Philosophy of Information Technology

Up to this point, I have interpreted information technology through a philosophical lens. From here, I would like to reverse the direction of reflection — starting from a philosophical theory embedded within information technology, to shed light on philosophy itself, and to suggest that Plato may have been, in a sense, "inverted" in his thinking.

What I would like to introduce here is a software development methodology called Domain-Driven Design (DDD). It is known for being complex and philosophically charged, with multiple competing interpretations, and I do not claim to have a deep mastery of it myself. However, among its concepts, there are several that stand out clearly and characteristically. One of these is the idea of a Ubiquitous Language.

In Domain-Driven Design, the process of system design is not confined to engineers alone. Instead, it involves ongoing dialogue among all stakeholders, including business experts. Through this collaborative process, a ubiquitous language emerges — a shared terminology that connects the internal structure of the program with the business domain it models. The goal is to faithfully encode the reality of the business into the codebase. This collaborative modeling process is, in this sense, profoundly democratic.

Legislation in a democracy can be seen in a similar light: it is the process by which people articulate how they perceive reality and how they wish to define it through language. Legislative processes involving citizen participation are acts of collaborative social modeling. While democratic legislation translates societal problems into language and rules, Domain-Driven Design translates domain problems into language and code. Both are acts of co-creating meaning, governed by the shared principle of governance through language.

At their core, both Domain-Driven Design and democratic law making are grounded in the assumption that reality is structured, shared, and made operable through language. Through dialogue, models that faithfully reflect reality are constructed, leading to better laws and better systems.

In contrast, Plato's notion of rule by the philosopher-king — the idea that an ideal society should be governed by a single, supremely wise philosopher — represents a fundamentally different vision. It is precisely this contrast, I argue, that reveals the "inversion" in Plato's thought. That is, excellence in legislation, order, or modeling arises not from a single superior individual, but from inclusive, truly democratic dialogue. The same can be said of Forms (abstractions or universals).

Plato viewed the sensible world of particulars as mere reflections of eternal Forms, Idea. But in reality, it is the other way around: abstractions emerge through the comparison and generalization of multiple real-world particulars — not the other way around. Both Plato's idea of the philosopher-king and his Theory of Forms are, in this sense — insofar as they deny that order and abstraction arise from collective verification and multiplicity — inverted.

That said, it must also be acknowledged that this inversion of the Theory of Forms is not something that can be straightforwardly dismissed. Concepts often seem to acquire a life of their own; they can lead people to the discovery of new concepts, as if they had independent existence. Consider the example of mathematical systems: it would be naïve to believe that everything must always originate only from concrete instances in the real world. Likewise, industrial products (particulars) are derived from blueprints (abstractions). Put most simply, our recognition of the informational world likely occurs within a cyclical relationship between abstraction and particularity.

Perhaps all of this has already been said many times over. Still, I wish to record here the possibility that the philosophy of information technology may offer us a way to reflect back upon philosophy itself. That relationship, I believe, is worth noting.

The Formless

Earlier, I stated that the proposition "information is form" recurs throughout every domain of information technology. And yet, in this world where things are defined by form, we occasionally encounter that which is formless. This formless, too, finds its way back into the world of information technology.

In simple terms, this refers to the recurrence within information systems of elements that cannot be reduced to functions, operations, or formal algorithms that process individual objects. In other words, a kind of historicity — irreducible and resistant to pure formalization — re-emerges in the realm of information systems. A clear example of this can be found in relational databases, particularly those used to record data in tabular form.

Within a relational database, an id is often a pure designator used for extensional distinction. For instance, id = 123 uniquely identifies a single record (a row of data). However, the id itself does not carry any inherent meaning, attributes, or structured content. It functions solely as a direct reference — akin to a pointer — rather than a bearer of form. The id operates outside the structured semantic system that the database represents. To use an analogy, the number printed on a social security or identity card links to information that may have meaning or attributes, but the number itself holds no intrinsic meaning.

This is precisely the kind of referential identity described by Saul Kripke in his theory of proper names. Kripke famously argued that proper names (e.g., "Aristotle") function as rigid designators. A rigid designator refers to the same object in all possible worlds in which that object exists. For example, "Aristotle" refers to the man who, in the actual world, was a student of Plato and a teacher of Alexander the Great. Even if we imagine a possible world in which he pursued an entirely different life — say, studying under someone else — the name "Aristotle" would still designate that same individual.

This stands in contrast to definite descriptions like "the teacher of Alexander the Great," which might designate different individuals in different possible worlds. A proper name, according to Kripke, refers not through description or definition but through causal chains of naming. Its meaning is guaranteed by the fact of reference, not by any description or semantic content. As such, a proper name cannot be reduced to a set of attributes; it designates without necessarily signifying anything. It has no "form."

The nature of the database id is strikingly similar to that of a proper name. Like a proper name, an id is a label for reference only. It contains no structure, no attribute, no inherent form — only the capacity to point. Its meaning is entirely dependent on external context and cannot be reduced to a set of internal properties.

In this sense, the id in information systems mirrors the proper name in natural language: both represent the return of a certain kind of historicity, singularity, and formlessness within systems otherwise built upon structure and form. This phenomenon exemplifies the persistence of elements that cannot be fully reduced to function or formal operation. And at a deeper level, I believe this is connected to Aristotle's ontology of substance.