November 2016 archive

The Logging module in Python

In the spirit of improving my software engineering practices I have been trying to make more use of the Python logging module. In common with many programmers my first instinct when debugging a programming problem is to use print statements (or their local equivalent) to provide an insight into what my program is up to. Obviously, I should be making use of any debugger provided but there is something reassuring about the immediacy and simplicity of print.

A useful evolution of the print statement in Python is the logging module which can be used as a simple print function but it can do so much more: you can configure loggers for different packages and modules whose behaviour can be controlled centrally; you can vary the verbosity of your logging messages. If you decide to switch to logging to a file rather than the terminal this can be achieved too, and you can even post your log messages to a website using HTTPhandler. Obviously logging is about much more than debugging.

I am writing this blog post because, as most of us have discovered, using logging is not quite as straightforward as we were led to believe. In particular you might find yourself in the situation where you feel you have set up your logging yet when you run your code nothing appears in your terminal window. Print doesn’t do this to you!

Loggers are arranged in a hierarchy. Loggers have handlers which are the things that cause a log to generate output to a device. If no log is specified then a default log called the root log is used. A logger has a name and the hierarchy is defined by the dots in the name, all the way “up” to the root logger. Any logger can have a handler attached to it, if no handler is attached then any log message is passed to the parent logger.

A log record has a message (the thing you would have printed) and a “level” which indicates the severity of the message these are specified by integers for which the logging module provides convenient labels. The levels in order of severity are logging.DEBUG, logging.INFO, logging.WARNING, logging.ERROR, logging.CRITICAL. A log handler will output a message if the level of the message is equal to or more than the level it has been set to. So a handler set to WARNING will show messages at the WARNING, ERROR and CRITICAL levels but not the INFO and DEBUG levels.

The simplest way to use the logging module is to import the library:

import logging

Then carry out some minimal configuration,

logging.basicConfig(level=logging.INFO)

and then put logging.info statements in our code, just as we would have done with print statements:

logging.info("This is a log message that takes a parameter = {}".format(a_parameter_value))

logging.debug, logging.warning, logging.error and logging.critical are used to publish log messages with different levels of severity. These are all convenience methods which remove the need to explicitly give the level as found in the logging.log function:

logging.log(logging.INFO, "This is a log message")

If we are writing a module, or other code that we anticipate others importing and running then we should create a logger using logging.getLogger(__name__) but leave configuring it to the caller. In this instance we use the name of the logger we have created instead of the module level “logging”. So to publish a message we would do:

logger = logging.getLogger(__name__)
logger.info("Hello")

In the module importing this library you would do something like:

import some_library
logging.basicConfig(level=logging.INFO)
# if you wanted to tweak the levels of another logger 
logger = logging.getLogger("some other logger")
logger.setLevel(logging.DEBUG)

basicConfig() configures the root logger which is where all messages end up in the absence of any other handler. The behaviour of logging.basicConfig() is downright obstructive at times. The core of the problem is that it can only be invoked once in a session, any future invocations are ignored. Worse than this it can be invoked implicitly. So if for example you do:

import logging
logging.warning("Hello")

You’ll see a message because secretly logging has effectively run logging.basicConfig(level=logging.WARNING) for you (or something similar). This means that if you were to then naively go ahead and run basicConfig yourself:

logging.basicConfig(level=logging.INFO)

You would see no message when you subsequently ran logging.info(“Hello”) because the “second” invocation of logging.basicConfig is ignored.

We can explicitly set the properties of the root logger by doing:

root_logger = logging.getLogger()
root_logger.setLevel(logging.INFO)

You can debug issues like this by checking the handlers to a logger. If you do:

import logging
lgr = logging.getLogger()
lgr.handlers

You get the empty list []. Issue a logging.warning() message and you see that a handler has been added to the root logger, lgr.handlers() returns something like [<logging.StreamHandler at 0x44327f0>].

If you want to see a list of all the loggers in the hierarchy then do:

logging.Logger.manager.loggerDict

So there you go, the logging module is great – you should use it instead of print. But beware of the odd behaviour of logging.basicConfig() which I’ve spent most of this post griping about. This is mainly so that I have all my knowledge of logging in one place rather than trying to remember which piece of code I pulled off a particular trick.

I used the logging documentation here, blog posts by Fang (here) and Praveen Gollakota (here) and tab completion in the ipython REPL in the preparation of this post.

Book review: The Invention of Science by David Wootton

inventionofscienceBack to the history of science with The Invention of Science by David Wootton which covers the period of the Scientific Revolution.

Wootton’s central theme is how language tracked the arrival of what we see as modern science in a period from about 1500 to 1700, and how this modern science was an important thing that has persisted to the present day. I believe he is a little controversial in denying the ubiquity of the Kuhnian paradigm shift and in his dismissal of what he refers to as the postmodern, “word-games” approach to the history of science which sees scientific statements as entirely equivalent to statements of beliefs.This approach is exemplified by Leviathan and the air-pump by Steven Shapin and Simon Schaffer which gets several mentions.

Wootton argues contrary to Kuhn that sometimes “paradigm shifts” happen almost silently. He also points out that Kuhn’s science is post-Scientific Revolution. One of the silent revolutions that he cites is the model of the world. “Flat-earth” in no way describes the pre-Colombus model of the world which originated from classical Greek scholarship. In this theoretical context the sphere is revered and the universe is built from the four elements: earth, wind, fire and water. The model for the “earth” is therefore a variety of uncomfortable attempts to superimpose spheres of water and earth. The Ancients got away with this because in Classical times the known world did not cover enough of the earth’s sphere to reveal embarrassing discrepancies between theory and actuality. With Colombus’s “discovery” of America and other expeditions crossing the equator and reaching The Far East over land these elemental sphere models were no longer viable. The new model of the earth which we hold to today entered quietly over the period 1475 to 1550. 

Colombus’s “discovery” also marks one of the key themes for the book, the development of new language to describe the fruits of scientific investigation. Prior to Colombus the idea of an original discovery was poorly expressed in Western European languages, writers had to specifically emphasise that they were the first to find something or somewhere out rather than a having a word to hand that expressed this. Prior to this time, Western European scholarship was very much focused on the “re-discovery” and re-interpretation of the lost wisdom of the Ancients. Words like “fact”,”laws” (of nature), “theories”, “hypotheses”, “experiment” and “evidence” also evolved over this period. This happened because the the world was changing, the printing press had arrived (which changed communication and collaboration entirely). Machines and instruments were being invented, and the application of maths was widening from early forms of banking to surveying and perspective drawing. These words morphed to their modern meanings across the European languages in a loosely coupled manner.

Experimentation is about more than just the crude mechanics of doing the experiment, it is about reporting that work to others so that they can replicate and extend the work. The invention of printing is important in this reporting process. This is why alchemy dies out sometime around the end of the 17th century. Although alchemy has experiments, clearly communicating your experiments to others is not part of the game. Alchemy is not a science, it is mysticism with scientific trappings.

As a sometime practising scientist all of these elements of discovery, facts, evidence, laws, hypotheses and theories are things whose definitions I take for granted. They are very clear to me now, and I know they are shared with other working scientists. What The Invention of Science highlights was that there was a time when these things were not true.

The central section of the book finishes with some thoughts on whether the Industrial Revolution required the Scientific Revolution on which to build. The answer is ultimately “yes”, although the time it takes is considerable. It flows from the work of Denis Papin on a steam digester in the late 17th century to Newcomen’s invention of the steam engine in the early 18th century. Steam engines don’t become ubiquitous until much later in the 18th century. The point here is that Papin’s work is very much in the spirit of a “academic” scientist (he had worked with Robert Boyle), whereas Newcomen sits in the world of industrial engineering and commerce.

I’ve not seen such an analysis of language in the study of the Scientific Revolution before, the author notes that much of this study is made possible by the internet. 

The editor clearly had a permissive view of footnotes, since almost every page has a footnote and more than a few pages are half footnote. The book also has endnotes, and some “afterthoughts”. Initially I found this a bit irritating but some of the footnotes are quite interesting. For example, the Matses tribe in the Amazon include provenance in their verb forms, using the incorrect verb form is seen as a lie. In my day to day work with data this “provenance required” approach is very appealing.

The Invention of Science is very rich, and thought provoking and presents a thesis which I had not seen presented before, although the “facts” of the Scientific Revolution are well known. I’m off to read Leviathan and the air-pump partly on the recommendation of the author of this book.