Context
I'm reading The Social Life of Information by John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid. This book contends that the belief that more information, especially in the form of the internet, will somehow solve all our problems is at least premature, if not hopelessly naive. I've just finished a section where the authors talk about the intricacies of negotiation, pointing out that human beings makes thousands of implicit negotiations every day, and that we only resort to rule-based decision making, the kind computers are really good at, when those fail. As an example, they point out that committees often have to make rules about how to communicate, like who can talk for how long, but groups of friends usually do not.
Commentary
The idea of rule-based decision making and negotiation got me to thinking about the rule of law. Patriotism is a challenging concept for me. I like being an American because I think we have a kick-ass constitution, not because of any loyalty to a geographic or cultural entity. Does the U.S. even have a culture? Our embrace of multiculturalism maybe, but I digress. Anyway, I like the rule of law in this country.
On the other hand, I'm a Quaker, and as a matter of practice, we abjure some of the things the Constitution prescribes. For example, Quakers don't vote when doing church business. In my experience, Quakers vote like mad in the national elections, but that's a separate issue. Anyway, in our meetings for worship with attention to business (We're a simple people, but we like the names of things to be painfully precise.), we make decisions by "sense of the meeting." This means we work together until we find an answer that resonates with everyone participating in the process, rather than voting, which produces winners and losers.
If you ask a dozen Quakers why we do things this way, there's a good chance you'll get at least ten different answers. Christian Quakers often believe that a collective answer is more likely to reflect the will of God. In my case, I specifically hark back to the wrong turn the children of Israel made when they told God they no longer wanted their disputes settled and armies led by the itinerant judges He raised up among them. They wanted a permanent hereditary king, like all the other cool nations had. The extra level of remove from the Lord did not work out well for them.
Quakers who are not explicitly Christian sometimes still invoke the mystical aspect of collective decision-making, even if the mystery is not attributed to a particular deity. Even non-Quakers sometimes adopt the "sense of the meeting" language to their secular business dealings, in the belief that consensus (or in the case of the International Monetary Fund pretending to have consensus) serves better than conflict when expecting people to work together.
So I like the rule of law, but I avoid using it whenever I can. Brown and Duguid point out computers can't manage the slight change-of-course negotiations people navigate with ease because these depend on shared values and trust, which machines can neither create nor maintain. And there's the rub: the moment we turn to the rule of law, which is the set "If you cross this line, these consequences will happen," way of looking at the world, we give up human connection in order to take a chance on "being right." Which one is really more valuable?
What did you see today?
Showing posts with label information. Show all posts
Showing posts with label information. Show all posts
10/14/2012
9/19/2012
I saw a complaint about carelessness
Context
A colleague at the library I work at sent me an e-mail asking if I would remind people how important it is to do proper data entry when registering patrons for library cards. I replied back both my apology that this would fall outside the scope of my job duties and my opinion that if just reminding people of the importance of a task was enough to ensure perfect execution of it, airplanes would never crash.
Commentary
I think there is a sweet spot where we do our best work on any given task. When we're first learning, we're very careful, but we make mistakes because we don't understand everything we're doing. Later on, when we understand both the procedures and the logic behind them really well, we think we can do the task with our eyes closed and the carelessness bugaboo emerges. Somewhere in between we probably produce outstanding work a couple of times.
I can see a couple of ways to fight this problem. One is cross-training, or at least, task variation. If we only do something once a month, rather than 20 times a day, there's the potential for it to seem a little bit unfamiliar each time we do it, maybe enough to make us work carefully. At the very least, we don't grow so resentful of the repetition that we switch off our brains. Balancing my checkbook is a pretty mindless task, but I don't do it often enough to be bored by it.
Automation is another solution. Machines are uniquely suited to repetitive tasks, even complex ones. What's great about computers these days is they can learn (mostly by trying different procedures and keeping only the ones that work), but they can't get bored. In my line of work, as in many others, there are people concerned about their jobs being turned over to computers. I always assure them that computers are only good for tasks that are too stupid for human beings, by which I mean too mindless to be satisfying for us. Maybe I'd get more leverage if I said "tasks that are too boring for human beings."
What did you see today?
A colleague at the library I work at sent me an e-mail asking if I would remind people how important it is to do proper data entry when registering patrons for library cards. I replied back both my apology that this would fall outside the scope of my job duties and my opinion that if just reminding people of the importance of a task was enough to ensure perfect execution of it, airplanes would never crash.
Commentary
I think there is a sweet spot where we do our best work on any given task. When we're first learning, we're very careful, but we make mistakes because we don't understand everything we're doing. Later on, when we understand both the procedures and the logic behind them really well, we think we can do the task with our eyes closed and the carelessness bugaboo emerges. Somewhere in between we probably produce outstanding work a couple of times.
I can see a couple of ways to fight this problem. One is cross-training, or at least, task variation. If we only do something once a month, rather than 20 times a day, there's the potential for it to seem a little bit unfamiliar each time we do it, maybe enough to make us work carefully. At the very least, we don't grow so resentful of the repetition that we switch off our brains. Balancing my checkbook is a pretty mindless task, but I don't do it often enough to be bored by it.
Automation is another solution. Machines are uniquely suited to repetitive tasks, even complex ones. What's great about computers these days is they can learn (mostly by trying different procedures and keeping only the ones that work), but they can't get bored. In my line of work, as in many others, there are people concerned about their jobs being turned over to computers. I always assure them that computers are only good for tasks that are too stupid for human beings, by which I mean too mindless to be satisfying for us. Maybe I'd get more leverage if I said "tasks that are too boring for human beings."
What did you see today?
8/29/2012
I saw a book description
Context
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
8/11/2012
I saw a description of the Divine
Context
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
7/27/2012
I saw an article that contradicted itself
Context
I found this article regarding James Holmes's prison behavior while perusing the Time Magazine website today. The article states that Mr. Holmes has been engaging in erratic behavior in jail, then says that might not be true, and concludes that the man's behavior is "mysterious."
Commentary
Consider this my Friday evening snark: I believe there's a difference between mysterious behavior and not confirming your information before posting a news story. Oh wait! This is the internet age, where the truth is "fluid."
What I find particularly funny is that the updated version, the one that says Holmes has been quiet throughout his incarceration, seems less credible, quoting only "sources," as opposed to the more specific "Arapahoe County Jail officials." Honestly though, can we just not say anything until we find someone willing to go on the record? Or are we just as crazy as James Holmes himself, believing that if we stuff ourselves with every morsel of information thrown our way everything will eventually become clear?
What did you see today?
I found this article regarding James Holmes's prison behavior while perusing the Time Magazine website today. The article states that Mr. Holmes has been engaging in erratic behavior in jail, then says that might not be true, and concludes that the man's behavior is "mysterious."
Commentary
Consider this my Friday evening snark: I believe there's a difference between mysterious behavior and not confirming your information before posting a news story. Oh wait! This is the internet age, where the truth is "fluid."
What I find particularly funny is that the updated version, the one that says Holmes has been quiet throughout his incarceration, seems less credible, quoting only "sources," as opposed to the more specific "Arapahoe County Jail officials." Honestly though, can we just not say anything until we find someone willing to go on the record? Or are we just as crazy as James Holmes himself, believing that if we stuff ourselves with every morsel of information thrown our way everything will eventually become clear?
What did you see today?
4/27/2012
I saw a request for information
Context
Help A Reporter Out (HARO) had a query today that made me laugh out loud. When I've discussed HARO in the past, I've mentioned that they had a strict "no copying the query to your blog" rule, but that appears to have gone by the wayside. So here it is (author removed to protect the laughed-at):
I'm looking for a female podiatrist who can help readers understand how to wear heels without sacrificing long-term health. Note: This is not about telling readers NOT to wear heels. They can do whatever they want. We want to help them wear heels safely.
Commentary
It's the second-to-last sentence that did me in. The way the writer jumps to the defense of her reader's personal liberty is both heartwarming and technically true. They can, in fact, do whatever they want. If I want I can drive at 90 miles per hour through rush hour traffic. There's not really much advice you can give me that will help me do it safely, though.
What the reporter is up against is a sad part of reality: facts do not yield to principles. Freedom of choice is something worth fighting for, but you can't use it as a bludgeon against biological processes like joint and bone breakdown. OK, it's just a story about wearing high heels, and although doing so regularly will cause long-term damage (Look, I'm not even a podiatrist and I said it!), it's not that big a deal right? Probably not, but acting as if belief can defeat reality can have truly terrifying consequences.
Randy Shilts wrote an excellent book about the beginning of the AIDS epidemic called And the Band Played On. In it he talks about how often proper health precautions were not taken because no one wanted to violate gay men's civil rights by suggesting their sexual practices were a vector for spreading the disease. Even though they were. And they were killing each other in numbers that would have made the Nazis proud. You should read the whole book, but if you want just one concentrated example of what I'm talking about, take a look at the entries for January 3, 1983 (The book goes in chronological order).
I can understand why we do this. I too have principles I like to live by. People shouldn't get mad at me when I tell the truth. I should be able to walk unmolested down any street I please. The animals who live in my house should do what I say, because I have their best interests in mind. The facts, however, do not yield.
We can choose to ignore this bit of unpleasantness, sticking to our principles and ignoring all inconvenient truths, or at least being really annoyed by them. Or we can abandon principle, being tempest-tossed by every new piece of information that comes along, whether it be a new diet or the latest management technique, and not the slightest bit worried that nothing we say or do can be counted on for more than twenty minutes.
But I think there's a middle road, one that recognizes that what we're really talking about is competing principles and we can choose between them according to our desires and values. You can believe both that high-heeled shoes are an important piece of professional attire and that it's important to take good care of your feet. My doctor does, after all. She's wearing her high heels every time I come into her office and every time we discuss them, she mentions the dangers inherent in doing so. Because she's made an informed choice. Now there's a principle I can get behind!
What did you see today?
Help A Reporter Out (HARO) had a query today that made me laugh out loud. When I've discussed HARO in the past, I've mentioned that they had a strict "no copying the query to your blog" rule, but that appears to have gone by the wayside. So here it is (author removed to protect the laughed-at):
I'm looking for a female podiatrist who can help readers understand how to wear heels without sacrificing long-term health. Note: This is not about telling readers NOT to wear heels. They can do whatever they want. We want to help them wear heels safely.
Commentary
It's the second-to-last sentence that did me in. The way the writer jumps to the defense of her reader's personal liberty is both heartwarming and technically true. They can, in fact, do whatever they want. If I want I can drive at 90 miles per hour through rush hour traffic. There's not really much advice you can give me that will help me do it safely, though.
What the reporter is up against is a sad part of reality: facts do not yield to principles. Freedom of choice is something worth fighting for, but you can't use it as a bludgeon against biological processes like joint and bone breakdown. OK, it's just a story about wearing high heels, and although doing so regularly will cause long-term damage (Look, I'm not even a podiatrist and I said it!), it's not that big a deal right? Probably not, but acting as if belief can defeat reality can have truly terrifying consequences.
Randy Shilts wrote an excellent book about the beginning of the AIDS epidemic called And the Band Played On. In it he talks about how often proper health precautions were not taken because no one wanted to violate gay men's civil rights by suggesting their sexual practices were a vector for spreading the disease. Even though they were. And they were killing each other in numbers that would have made the Nazis proud. You should read the whole book, but if you want just one concentrated example of what I'm talking about, take a look at the entries for January 3, 1983 (The book goes in chronological order).
I can understand why we do this. I too have principles I like to live by. People shouldn't get mad at me when I tell the truth. I should be able to walk unmolested down any street I please. The animals who live in my house should do what I say, because I have their best interests in mind. The facts, however, do not yield.
We can choose to ignore this bit of unpleasantness, sticking to our principles and ignoring all inconvenient truths, or at least being really annoyed by them. Or we can abandon principle, being tempest-tossed by every new piece of information that comes along, whether it be a new diet or the latest management technique, and not the slightest bit worried that nothing we say or do can be counted on for more than twenty minutes.
But I think there's a middle road, one that recognizes that what we're really talking about is competing principles and we can choose between them according to our desires and values. You can believe both that high-heeled shoes are an important piece of professional attire and that it's important to take good care of your feet. My doctor does, after all. She's wearing her high heels every time I come into her office and every time we discuss them, she mentions the dangers inherent in doing so. Because she's made an informed choice. Now there's a principle I can get behind!
What did you see today?
4/26/2012
I saw a discussion about validity
Context
Slate magazine often runs a feature whereby they will have one or more participants weigh in on a piece of pop culture. Currently Katie Allison Granju is debating Hanna Rosin on the Elisabeth Badinter book The Conflict: How Modern Motherhood Undermines the Status of Women. Over her past couple of entries, Granju has focused on how Badinter's financial interest in Nestle's PR company disqualifies her from taking a position on breastfeeding, snce Nestle is a multinational manufacturer of infant formula. Here is a paragraph from today's entry:
"So how can anyone take anything Elisabeth Badinter has to say on the topic of infant-maternal nutrition seriously? Her ethical conflict is so enormous, and her motives so glaringly questionable, that her position on the topic ultimately doesn’t even matter. There’s just no way to get past who it is making the argument. It’s as if the Board Chairman for American Beef Association’s publicist released a book criticizing Americans’ “naturalist” eating habits, and vegetarianism in particular. It wouldn’t matter if she had a Ph.D. in nutrition from Harvard or a history of bashing vegetarianism. It also wouldn’t matter if her book were well argued and persuasive. The very idea of someone in that position writing such a book would be laughable."
Commentary
There is a saying in American politics, and maybe elsewhere as well: "If you can't attack the message, attack the messenger." With that in mind, I'm forced to disagree with Ms. Granju. It always matters if a book, or any statement of opinion for that matter, is well argued and persuasive. I have no problem with accounting for someone's character, personal history and economic ties when evaluating an argument, but if those are the only criteria you use, I think you'll miss out on some good stuff. I personally thought the late Christopher Hitchens was an execrable human being, but man could he write stuff!
I also think this critique fails to allow for the possibility that Badinter might be taking a principled position in both the economic and philosophical spheres. If one truly believes in the legitimate uses of baby formula to free up women's time, why wouldn't you invest in Nestle's publicist and even Nestle itself? Are we supposed to expect hypocrisy and cynical self-interest instead, where no one actually puts their money where their mouth is? Wouldn't that be a bigger "ethical conflict?"
So, to sum up, I don't think a well-researched book written by a PhD in nutrition on the evils of vegetarianism would be laughable, even if it was written by someone employed by the American Beef Association. I like to gather as many reasoned opinions as I can. I'm about done with the Slate series, though. I think the conversation has gone about one entry past "reasoned."
What did you see today?
Slate magazine often runs a feature whereby they will have one or more participants weigh in on a piece of pop culture. Currently Katie Allison Granju is debating Hanna Rosin on the Elisabeth Badinter book The Conflict: How Modern Motherhood Undermines the Status of Women. Over her past couple of entries, Granju has focused on how Badinter's financial interest in Nestle's PR company disqualifies her from taking a position on breastfeeding, snce Nestle is a multinational manufacturer of infant formula. Here is a paragraph from today's entry:
"So how can anyone take anything Elisabeth Badinter has to say on the topic of infant-maternal nutrition seriously? Her ethical conflict is so enormous, and her motives so glaringly questionable, that her position on the topic ultimately doesn’t even matter. There’s just no way to get past who it is making the argument. It’s as if the Board Chairman for American Beef Association’s publicist released a book criticizing Americans’ “naturalist” eating habits, and vegetarianism in particular. It wouldn’t matter if she had a Ph.D. in nutrition from Harvard or a history of bashing vegetarianism. It also wouldn’t matter if her book were well argued and persuasive. The very idea of someone in that position writing such a book would be laughable."
Commentary
There is a saying in American politics, and maybe elsewhere as well: "If you can't attack the message, attack the messenger." With that in mind, I'm forced to disagree with Ms. Granju. It always matters if a book, or any statement of opinion for that matter, is well argued and persuasive. I have no problem with accounting for someone's character, personal history and economic ties when evaluating an argument, but if those are the only criteria you use, I think you'll miss out on some good stuff. I personally thought the late Christopher Hitchens was an execrable human being, but man could he write stuff!
I also think this critique fails to allow for the possibility that Badinter might be taking a principled position in both the economic and philosophical spheres. If one truly believes in the legitimate uses of baby formula to free up women's time, why wouldn't you invest in Nestle's publicist and even Nestle itself? Are we supposed to expect hypocrisy and cynical self-interest instead, where no one actually puts their money where their mouth is? Wouldn't that be a bigger "ethical conflict?"
So, to sum up, I don't think a well-researched book written by a PhD in nutrition on the evils of vegetarianism would be laughable, even if it was written by someone employed by the American Beef Association. I like to gather as many reasoned opinions as I can. I'm about done with the Slate series, though. I think the conversation has gone about one entry past "reasoned."
What did you see today?
3/27/2012
I saw some information about Trayvon Martin
Context
I was reading this article about the Trayvon Martin case on Slate. Until I watched the Daily Show last night, I hadn't realized he was shot over a month ago. I keep learning new things all the time, including the tidbit included in the Slate article about Martin's school suspension for marijuana possession.
Commentary
My husband and I differ on whether Trayvon Martin's death should be considered a lynching. We were in the park walking our dogs discussing it, so we didn't have a dictionary at hand, but it turns out we were pretty close to the correct definition. According to Merriam-Webster Online, to lynch is to to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal sanction. So I will concede to my husband that this was not a mob action (unless you want to blame the entire Florida Legislature) and make the half-concession that it was not achieved by hanging. Nonetheless, very much without legal sanction. Or at least, without common sense sanction.
Departing from the formal definition, my husband made another argument that we think of lynching, at least the form that was practiced regularly down here where I live (check this data set if you want your hometown's scorecard), as being predicated on teaching someone a lesson. I remarked that it's hard to teach a corpse a lesson, but I understood the point he was trying to make.
And now, from hyperbole to trivializing. Lynching in this country is what white people do to black people who are bugging them. It's our way of saying, "The law of proportional response only applies to people who look like me. For others, I can react however I want." Remember, we used to use this form of capital punishment for offenses like speaking to white women, failing to yield the sidewalk, or looking someone in the eye. Which is why I don't find the continued investigation into Trayvon Martin's various misdemeanors helpful. It's like we keep trying to come up with a sum of offenses that make it OK that he's dead.
Well, maybe it is helpful. Decide for yourself, does walking around a gated community + hoodie + marijuana use + school problems = put him down like a rabid dog? I'm going to be even meaner and say that if Martin was beating George Zimmerman up he still shouldn't have been shot. If someone is punching you in a populated area, you yell. You or someone else calls the cops and the perp is taken to jail. Everybody survives the encounter. Even people who bug the crap out of each other.
What did you see today?
I was reading this article about the Trayvon Martin case on Slate. Until I watched the Daily Show last night, I hadn't realized he was shot over a month ago. I keep learning new things all the time, including the tidbit included in the Slate article about Martin's school suspension for marijuana possession.
Commentary
My husband and I differ on whether Trayvon Martin's death should be considered a lynching. We were in the park walking our dogs discussing it, so we didn't have a dictionary at hand, but it turns out we were pretty close to the correct definition. According to Merriam-Webster Online, to lynch is to to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal sanction. So I will concede to my husband that this was not a mob action (unless you want to blame the entire Florida Legislature) and make the half-concession that it was not achieved by hanging. Nonetheless, very much without legal sanction. Or at least, without common sense sanction.
Departing from the formal definition, my husband made another argument that we think of lynching, at least the form that was practiced regularly down here where I live (check this data set if you want your hometown's scorecard), as being predicated on teaching someone a lesson. I remarked that it's hard to teach a corpse a lesson, but I understood the point he was trying to make.
And now, from hyperbole to trivializing. Lynching in this country is what white people do to black people who are bugging them. It's our way of saying, "The law of proportional response only applies to people who look like me. For others, I can react however I want." Remember, we used to use this form of capital punishment for offenses like speaking to white women, failing to yield the sidewalk, or looking someone in the eye. Which is why I don't find the continued investigation into Trayvon Martin's various misdemeanors helpful. It's like we keep trying to come up with a sum of offenses that make it OK that he's dead.
Well, maybe it is helpful. Decide for yourself, does walking around a gated community + hoodie + marijuana use + school problems = put him down like a rabid dog? I'm going to be even meaner and say that if Martin was beating George Zimmerman up he still shouldn't have been shot. If someone is punching you in a populated area, you yell. You or someone else calls the cops and the perp is taken to jail. Everybody survives the encounter. Even people who bug the crap out of each other.
What did you see today?
2/27/2012
I saw a call to action
Context
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
1/10/2012
I read a definition of a term
Context
I'm reading A History of the End of the World by Jonathan Kirsch. I'm doing this because I'm thinking about attending a seminar on apocalyptic literature given by Dr. Susan Brayford, a professor emeritus at Centenary College, and she mentioned possibly using this book as a jumping off point.
Anyway, this footnote appears fairly early in the text: "The abbreviation B.C.E. (Before the Common Era) is the equivalent of B.C. (Before Christ), and C.E. (Common Era) is the equivalent of A.D. (Anno Domini, or "In the Year of Our Lord"). The abbreviations B.C.E. and C.E. are used by scholars to avoid the theological implications of B.C. and A.D., and I have used them here for the same reason."
Commentary
I don't care much for this book. I find it astonishingly disrespectful of people (like me) who take the Bible seriously and downright dismissive of the author of the book of Revelation. Usually I believe life is too short to read books I don't like, but I'm continuing with this one for two reasons:
1) It's an Interlibrary Loan. Since the library took extra effort to get it for me, I figure I should give extra effort to getting through it.
2) I am actually learning stuff, like how various apocalyptic prophesies in the Bible compare and contrast with each other.
All the above was to let you know I might be predisposed to snarkiness while reading this book. Here are the two thoughts that crossed my mind when I read the definition of B.C.E.:
1) If you're counting time forward and backward from what historic calendar makers considered to be Jesus's birthdate, calling it something different may avoid the theological implications of that, but the cultural ones are still glaringly obvious: there was some kind of history-changing event 2012 years ago.
2) Does the author really think there's anyone reading his book who won't know what B.C.E. means? This is an historical analysis of the impact of Revelation with lots and lots of references. I don't think people are going to pick it up unless they've at least seen one college classroom or done an equivalent amount of reading. And if any of that study has been in the realm of history, they've seen B.C.E. before.
What did you see today?
I'm reading A History of the End of the World by Jonathan Kirsch. I'm doing this because I'm thinking about attending a seminar on apocalyptic literature given by Dr. Susan Brayford, a professor emeritus at Centenary College, and she mentioned possibly using this book as a jumping off point.
Anyway, this footnote appears fairly early in the text: "The abbreviation B.C.E. (Before the Common Era) is the equivalent of B.C. (Before Christ), and C.E. (Common Era) is the equivalent of A.D. (Anno Domini, or "In the Year of Our Lord"). The abbreviations B.C.E. and C.E. are used by scholars to avoid the theological implications of B.C. and A.D., and I have used them here for the same reason."
Commentary
I don't care much for this book. I find it astonishingly disrespectful of people (like me) who take the Bible seriously and downright dismissive of the author of the book of Revelation. Usually I believe life is too short to read books I don't like, but I'm continuing with this one for two reasons:
1) It's an Interlibrary Loan. Since the library took extra effort to get it for me, I figure I should give extra effort to getting through it.
2) I am actually learning stuff, like how various apocalyptic prophesies in the Bible compare and contrast with each other.
All the above was to let you know I might be predisposed to snarkiness while reading this book. Here are the two thoughts that crossed my mind when I read the definition of B.C.E.:
1) If you're counting time forward and backward from what historic calendar makers considered to be Jesus's birthdate, calling it something different may avoid the theological implications of that, but the cultural ones are still glaringly obvious: there was some kind of history-changing event 2012 years ago.
2) Does the author really think there's anyone reading his book who won't know what B.C.E. means? This is an historical analysis of the impact of Revelation with lots and lots of references. I don't think people are going to pick it up unless they've at least seen one college classroom or done an equivalent amount of reading. And if any of that study has been in the realm of history, they've seen B.C.E. before.
What did you see today?
12/03/2011
I saw a list of classroom rules
Context
There have been papers littered around the park next to my home for a while now, so I decided to go pick them up and dispose of them. Idly looking at some of them, I realized they were schoolwork for a freshman at our local high school, including a long set of rules for a math class. One of the rules was: don't criticize teachers or administrators.
Commentary
I taught high school for a year after I graduated from college, and discipline was my least favorite aspect of the endeavor. Some of that was surely because I don't like being told what to do and therefore don't like telling people what to do. This characteristic of mine is discussed in more detail in this post, if you'd like a blast from the past.
There was more to it than that, though. There was also the idealistic (and who isn't idealistic when they first get out of college) notion that what I was teaching should be interesting enough that the students wouldn't have to be forced to learn it, which is what classroom management sometimes felt like to me. Even then I realized this couldn't possibly be true all the time, and that even I was subject to discipline more than once from my favorite teacher in high school. To this day, though, it still seems like a good goal to keep in front of me when I teach. So if I concede that some classroom rules are necessary, I would like you to return the favor by understanding that the goals behind the rules are an important educational consideration.
A few weeks ago, I read Whatever It Takes by Paul Tough, which is a book about Geoffrey Canada's efforts to rescue kids in Harlem from the poverty cycle. One of the things the Harlem Children's Zone's Baby College tries to teach parents is to not shut their kids up when they ask questions. After all, as Canada puts it, that's what "rich white kids" do all the time, and it gives them an important step up in formal educational settings. This is a struggle for the parents, though, because they want to emphasize good, respectful behavior, which in their eyes includes not pestering people with questions. These goals are in conflict, but I'm foursquare with the Baby College in believing it's better to be smart and annoying than dumb and pleasant. I will confess to having more personal experience with one side of this equation than the other.
I believe that if you're trying to grow smart kids (and I concede this may or may not be the goal of any given educational institution), you have to be understand that all questions in between the poles of completely innocuous (How are you?) and completely obnoxious (Are you always this idiotic?) spring from a void or a conflict within a person. I ask why the sky is blue because I don't know, but also because it is a different color than the grass and because I know the sky is composed of air and air doesn't look blue when it's right in front of me. In other words, I'm trying to make sense of stuff. Answering my question, or at least acknowledging that it's OK to ask it, teaches me that sensemaking is an appropriate thing to do.
The same thing is true of questioning authority, or criticizing it, as the case may be. If someone's beliefs, experience and/or feelings don't mesh well with what they're being told by someone in charge, saying so is a way of making sense of how the world works. I'm not saying this means those in power always have to accommodate what we want or feel, but there's no reason to pretend we don't have those individual needs. That's why the U.S. Constitution protects our right to talk about these conflicts. I guess I'll just be grateful I was reading the rules for a math class instead of a civics one.
What did you see today?
There have been papers littered around the park next to my home for a while now, so I decided to go pick them up and dispose of them. Idly looking at some of them, I realized they were schoolwork for a freshman at our local high school, including a long set of rules for a math class. One of the rules was: don't criticize teachers or administrators.
Commentary
I taught high school for a year after I graduated from college, and discipline was my least favorite aspect of the endeavor. Some of that was surely because I don't like being told what to do and therefore don't like telling people what to do. This characteristic of mine is discussed in more detail in this post, if you'd like a blast from the past.
There was more to it than that, though. There was also the idealistic (and who isn't idealistic when they first get out of college) notion that what I was teaching should be interesting enough that the students wouldn't have to be forced to learn it, which is what classroom management sometimes felt like to me. Even then I realized this couldn't possibly be true all the time, and that even I was subject to discipline more than once from my favorite teacher in high school. To this day, though, it still seems like a good goal to keep in front of me when I teach. So if I concede that some classroom rules are necessary, I would like you to return the favor by understanding that the goals behind the rules are an important educational consideration.
A few weeks ago, I read Whatever It Takes by Paul Tough, which is a book about Geoffrey Canada's efforts to rescue kids in Harlem from the poverty cycle. One of the things the Harlem Children's Zone's Baby College tries to teach parents is to not shut their kids up when they ask questions. After all, as Canada puts it, that's what "rich white kids" do all the time, and it gives them an important step up in formal educational settings. This is a struggle for the parents, though, because they want to emphasize good, respectful behavior, which in their eyes includes not pestering people with questions. These goals are in conflict, but I'm foursquare with the Baby College in believing it's better to be smart and annoying than dumb and pleasant. I will confess to having more personal experience with one side of this equation than the other.
I believe that if you're trying to grow smart kids (and I concede this may or may not be the goal of any given educational institution), you have to be understand that all questions in between the poles of completely innocuous (How are you?) and completely obnoxious (Are you always this idiotic?) spring from a void or a conflict within a person. I ask why the sky is blue because I don't know, but also because it is a different color than the grass and because I know the sky is composed of air and air doesn't look blue when it's right in front of me. In other words, I'm trying to make sense of stuff. Answering my question, or at least acknowledging that it's OK to ask it, teaches me that sensemaking is an appropriate thing to do.
The same thing is true of questioning authority, or criticizing it, as the case may be. If someone's beliefs, experience and/or feelings don't mesh well with what they're being told by someone in charge, saying so is a way of making sense of how the world works. I'm not saying this means those in power always have to accommodate what we want or feel, but there's no reason to pretend we don't have those individual needs. That's why the U.S. Constitution protects our right to talk about these conflicts. I guess I'll just be grateful I was reading the rules for a math class instead of a civics one.
What did you see today?
11/07/2011
I saw a writer's bio
Context
I was looking for more information about the criminal charges filed against a former Penn State football coach. That search led me to this article, which has the following printed at the top as the author's bio:
Jason Whitlock writes about the sports world from every angle, including those other writers can't imagine or muster courage to address. His columns are humorous, thought-provoking, agenda-free, honest and unpredictable.
Commentary
My first question is, have we become so enamored of the idea of personal branding that we think "bio" means "advertisement?" I think of a bio as being something that tells you where a person comes from, perhaps even what he's accomplished up to now, not a description of how awesome he is at present.
Or maybe someone thought it counted as a bio because it's written in the third person. Cynically, I think it was written by Whitlock himself, but I have no evidence one way or the other, because it's not attributed. This, of course, does not help its credibility. Even quote whores put their names on their opinions. By the way, the person at the top of that quote whore list in the link above works for the same parent company as Jason Whitlock, but I digress.
If you're getting the impression I don't believe anything in the "bio," you're correct. I know it's narrow-mindedness on my part, but after reading the bio, I pretty much wrote Whitlock off as a blowhard. Which is kind of sad, because the bio appeared before the article, so his writing didn't even get to speak for itself.
On the other hand, that may have been the bio's author's intent. It seems to me that if you have to say a writer is courageous, insightful and funny before allowing someone to read his work, you're somewhat afraid the reader won't come to those conclusions on her own.
What did you see today?
I was looking for more information about the criminal charges filed against a former Penn State football coach. That search led me to this article, which has the following printed at the top as the author's bio:
Jason Whitlock writes about the sports world from every angle, including those other writers can't imagine or muster courage to address. His columns are humorous, thought-provoking, agenda-free, honest and unpredictable.
Commentary
My first question is, have we become so enamored of the idea of personal branding that we think "bio" means "advertisement?" I think of a bio as being something that tells you where a person comes from, perhaps even what he's accomplished up to now, not a description of how awesome he is at present.
Or maybe someone thought it counted as a bio because it's written in the third person. Cynically, I think it was written by Whitlock himself, but I have no evidence one way or the other, because it's not attributed. This, of course, does not help its credibility. Even quote whores put their names on their opinions. By the way, the person at the top of that quote whore list in the link above works for the same parent company as Jason Whitlock, but I digress.
If you're getting the impression I don't believe anything in the "bio," you're correct. I know it's narrow-mindedness on my part, but after reading the bio, I pretty much wrote Whitlock off as a blowhard. Which is kind of sad, because the bio appeared before the article, so his writing didn't even get to speak for itself.
On the other hand, that may have been the bio's author's intent. It seems to me that if you have to say a writer is courageous, insightful and funny before allowing someone to read his work, you're somewhat afraid the reader won't come to those conclusions on her own.
What did you see today?
10/25/2011
I saw the second response to a change
Context
I am the system administrator for the integrated library system at my workplace, which is what we use to electronically catalog and circulate items, as well as keep track of patron records. Our vendor for this product is SirsiDynix. Over the years, SirsiDynix has tried to foster a user community by maintaining listservs for individual pieces of their software.
SirsiDynix recently announced the creation a bunch of new listservs, because they've expanded their product line in several new directions. This caused an outcry among users, who wrote to the system administrators listserv (because it is our main method of communication outside of conferences) saying they couldn't possibly keep up with so many new lists and there should be more consolidation. Today, another set of voices emerged talking about the advantages of keeping separated lists for separate products and giving tips to the first group about managing e-mail. I cannot link to any of this correspondence, as these discussions are considered proprietary to SirsiDynix.
Commentary
When the aforementioned people got upset about the new listservs I thought, "Really? Is it that bad?", and waited for cooler heads to prevail. In my opinion, they did; there hasn't been any more back and forth on this issue; just "Oh, this is awful!" then, "No, it isn't; here's why:" and nothing further.
I've noticed this a lot lately. When new information appears, there seem to be two sets of people: reactors, who say the first thing that comes to their heads, often proved hyperbolic or downright erroneous later, and analyzers, who look at what the reactors say and come up with a reasoned response. I'd like to say that the analyzers are the only ones doing anything useful, but looking at the dynamic, I'm not sure that's true. The analyzers need the reactors, because otherwise they won't say anything.
Here's an example: an analyzer might look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters and say, "This is a group of people that is displeased about the direction the country is going; they're not terribly organized, but they seem OK with that; they're generally harmless." The thing is, I never heard anyone say those things about OWS until after I heard people say the protest was going to change everything, the revolution was underway, and the end of the world was at hand. I think analyzers think their well-reasoned viewpoint is the prevailing one, so they don't bother to say anything until the reactors have proved them wrong.
Well, not proved them wrong, exactly. I don't think reactors are more numerous than analyzers, just louder and more obvious at the beginning of a timeline. In fact, I think many reactors turn into analyzers over time. I know I do; my first response to information may be spontaneous and visceral, but after a while I often come to see and express a viewpoint that is more considered and transcendant. I don't think either response is correct per se; there seems to be a yinyang quality at work here that is worth preserving.
What did you see today?
I am the system administrator for the integrated library system at my workplace, which is what we use to electronically catalog and circulate items, as well as keep track of patron records. Our vendor for this product is SirsiDynix. Over the years, SirsiDynix has tried to foster a user community by maintaining listservs for individual pieces of their software.
SirsiDynix recently announced the creation a bunch of new listservs, because they've expanded their product line in several new directions. This caused an outcry among users, who wrote to the system administrators listserv (because it is our main method of communication outside of conferences) saying they couldn't possibly keep up with so many new lists and there should be more consolidation. Today, another set of voices emerged talking about the advantages of keeping separated lists for separate products and giving tips to the first group about managing e-mail. I cannot link to any of this correspondence, as these discussions are considered proprietary to SirsiDynix.
Commentary
When the aforementioned people got upset about the new listservs I thought, "Really? Is it that bad?", and waited for cooler heads to prevail. In my opinion, they did; there hasn't been any more back and forth on this issue; just "Oh, this is awful!" then, "No, it isn't; here's why:" and nothing further.
I've noticed this a lot lately. When new information appears, there seem to be two sets of people: reactors, who say the first thing that comes to their heads, often proved hyperbolic or downright erroneous later, and analyzers, who look at what the reactors say and come up with a reasoned response. I'd like to say that the analyzers are the only ones doing anything useful, but looking at the dynamic, I'm not sure that's true. The analyzers need the reactors, because otherwise they won't say anything.
Here's an example: an analyzer might look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters and say, "This is a group of people that is displeased about the direction the country is going; they're not terribly organized, but they seem OK with that; they're generally harmless." The thing is, I never heard anyone say those things about OWS until after I heard people say the protest was going to change everything, the revolution was underway, and the end of the world was at hand. I think analyzers think their well-reasoned viewpoint is the prevailing one, so they don't bother to say anything until the reactors have proved them wrong.
Well, not proved them wrong, exactly. I don't think reactors are more numerous than analyzers, just louder and more obvious at the beginning of a timeline. In fact, I think many reactors turn into analyzers over time. I know I do; my first response to information may be spontaneous and visceral, but after a while I often come to see and express a viewpoint that is more considered and transcendant. I don't think either response is correct per se; there seems to be a yinyang quality at work here that is worth preserving.
What did you see today?
7/28/2011
I saw my husband groom my dog
Context
My husband and I have a golden retriever named Claudia. She is the first long-haired dog we've ever had, and she requires a great deal of grooming, particularly during the summer. This evening as we walked in the house after my husband picked me up from work, I teased Claudia for looking tatty. It was my intention to groom her after I had completed a couple of coming home tasks, but my husband started on her before I had the chance.
Commentary
Analogs to the situation described above happen in my married life all the time: I call attention to a problem and my husband will fix it. I often feel guilty and lazy and a little overbearing at the time, like I'm willing to criticize a situation, but not stepping up to do anything about it. On the other hand, my husband says that one of things he appreciates about me is that I notice stuff he's oblivious to, so apparently I'm pretty good at this opening my eyes and opening my mouth stuff.
I suppose that means I should consider my power of observation a gift, but there's a fine line between calling attention to something that could be done and ordering people around, and I don't want to be on the wrong side of it. Especially since another one of my gifts (or personality flaws, depending on your perspective) is that I really hate it when people tell me what to do.
Of course, if I'm being called in some circumstances to do the thing that drives me up the wall when other people do it, it will certainly help me learn tolerance, won't it? So that's a gift too, if not necessarily a welcome one.
What did you see today?
My husband and I have a golden retriever named Claudia. She is the first long-haired dog we've ever had, and she requires a great deal of grooming, particularly during the summer. This evening as we walked in the house after my husband picked me up from work, I teased Claudia for looking tatty. It was my intention to groom her after I had completed a couple of coming home tasks, but my husband started on her before I had the chance.
Commentary
Analogs to the situation described above happen in my married life all the time: I call attention to a problem and my husband will fix it. I often feel guilty and lazy and a little overbearing at the time, like I'm willing to criticize a situation, but not stepping up to do anything about it. On the other hand, my husband says that one of things he appreciates about me is that I notice stuff he's oblivious to, so apparently I'm pretty good at this opening my eyes and opening my mouth stuff.
I suppose that means I should consider my power of observation a gift, but there's a fine line between calling attention to something that could be done and ordering people around, and I don't want to be on the wrong side of it. Especially since another one of my gifts (or personality flaws, depending on your perspective) is that I really hate it when people tell me what to do.
Of course, if I'm being called in some circumstances to do the thing that drives me up the wall when other people do it, it will certainly help me learn tolerance, won't it? So that's a gift too, if not necessarily a welcome one.
What did you see today?
6/10/2011
I saw a call for experts
Context
An e-mail list I subscribe to called HARO (what this stands for and more details here) is supported by ads. One of today's ads came from an internet media company. They were looking for experts in various fields to star in podcasts distributed to a number of their websites. I'm not providing a lot of detail because the terms of service on HARO say I can't reproduce the contents of the e-mails elsewhere without their express permission.
Commentary
One of the reasons I joined the HARO list is because they say something I believe: everyone is an expert on something. When I read the ad today, I thought, "I could provide an expert opinion on a couple of topics, like customer service or writing."
On the other hand, I don't have an expert's credentials in either of these fields. I'm interested in both and believe I have useful things to say, but does that make me a credible source? Maybe I'm just someone with an ax to grind and a fondness for hearing myself talk. OK, no "maybe" about that, but you get my point.
In fact, it's even hard to say if people who do have credentials are credible. I recently borrowed a book called Wrong: Why experts keep failing us - and how to know when not to trust them from the Jefferson Parish Library. Even though I haven't started it yet, I doubt it's lacking in examples of experts failing us.
So how does one know what to believe? I try to use a three-pronged approach:
1) What are the credentials behind the theory? Credentials are far from infallible, but for a starting point, I find the CDC more believable than an actress on the topic of vaccines. Also, credentials imply commitment to me, someone who considered the subject important enough to jump through what may seem like meaningless hoops to the rest of the world because he/she really wanted to arrive at the correct answer.
2) How does this theory fit in with what I already know? I may be an expert on nothing else, but I do know my own mind. Too much reliance on it means I only listen to people who support my prejudices, but too little and I end up unmoored and unable to tell anyone why I've chosen one course over another.
3) Does this mode of thinking yield good results? In almost all cases, only time will tell on this one, but once time has told, I don't get to rely on #1 and #2 to override the evidence before me.
#3 makes me believe flexibility is the key to untangling the expertise knot. If you follow an expert of any stripe for just as long as her/his approach yields good results and no further, I think your rate of failure will be quite manageable indeed.
What did you see today?
An e-mail list I subscribe to called HARO (what this stands for and more details here) is supported by ads. One of today's ads came from an internet media company. They were looking for experts in various fields to star in podcasts distributed to a number of their websites. I'm not providing a lot of detail because the terms of service on HARO say I can't reproduce the contents of the e-mails elsewhere without their express permission.
Commentary
One of the reasons I joined the HARO list is because they say something I believe: everyone is an expert on something. When I read the ad today, I thought, "I could provide an expert opinion on a couple of topics, like customer service or writing."
On the other hand, I don't have an expert's credentials in either of these fields. I'm interested in both and believe I have useful things to say, but does that make me a credible source? Maybe I'm just someone with an ax to grind and a fondness for hearing myself talk. OK, no "maybe" about that, but you get my point.
In fact, it's even hard to say if people who do have credentials are credible. I recently borrowed a book called Wrong: Why experts keep failing us - and how to know when not to trust them from the Jefferson Parish Library. Even though I haven't started it yet, I doubt it's lacking in examples of experts failing us.
So how does one know what to believe? I try to use a three-pronged approach:
1) What are the credentials behind the theory? Credentials are far from infallible, but for a starting point, I find the CDC more believable than an actress on the topic of vaccines. Also, credentials imply commitment to me, someone who considered the subject important enough to jump through what may seem like meaningless hoops to the rest of the world because he/she really wanted to arrive at the correct answer.
2) How does this theory fit in with what I already know? I may be an expert on nothing else, but I do know my own mind. Too much reliance on it means I only listen to people who support my prejudices, but too little and I end up unmoored and unable to tell anyone why I've chosen one course over another.
3) Does this mode of thinking yield good results? In almost all cases, only time will tell on this one, but once time has told, I don't get to rely on #1 and #2 to override the evidence before me.
#3 makes me believe flexibility is the key to untangling the expertise knot. If you follow an expert of any stripe for just as long as her/his approach yields good results and no further, I think your rate of failure will be quite manageable indeed.
What did you see today?
5/10/2011
I saw (and heard!) a disappointing webinar
Context
I attended a free webinar sponsored by the American Library Association today entitled It's All About the Student: How Students Learn and How Online Reference Sources Help. Since I teach computer skills to adults at my library I thought it would be of some use to me and I stuck with it until the end, but I didn't enjoy it much.
Commentary
The first thing I found disappointing about this webinar was that it was not a webinar, at least not in the sense of being in seminar format. The presenters were given time to present and attenders were allowed to ask questions through a chat window, but generally those were answered by a moderator. So it really wasn't the "exchange of ideas" my dictionary says a seminar is supposed to be. It was a set of lectures.
To compound the problem, the lectures themselves didn't engage me. Some of that was because I am not much of an audio learner. Instead, I'm more of a visual-kinesthetic type. There were visual aids (otherwise it would have been a podcast), but because they were PowerPoints I found myself thinking, "I could have just read these slides at my leisure instead of being chained to my desk listening to these people blather on." Or in one case, LISTENING TO THE PERSON READ HER POWERPOINT SLIDES! Are we ever going to cure people of that?
Not that I would have read the slides anyway, because they were mostly sales pitches for the online reference products sold by various companies. I probably should have expected this going in because most of the panel was composed of vendors, but I didn't think it would be quite so blatant.
Which brings me to my main problem with the whole enterprise. The first presenter, a librarian at Harvard, attempted to build a context for what we were going to hear by talking about some learning characteristics of digital natives. I didn't necessarily trust her conclusions, but at least she was speaking in the realm of ideas. After that, it was a series of "Look at these cool bells and whistles!" talks except for the very last vendor, who at least attempted to to talk about the pedagogical reasoning behind his company's offerings. I came away not only disappointed in the webinar, but in our whole educational system if this is how we decide what tools to use.
"Student engagement" is a popular concept in teacher training these days, and I agree that if someone's not paying attention, they're not likely to learn much. I'm concerned that we're confusing condiments for entrees though, trying to get students engaged using cool technology toys and ignoring whether they're actually learning and retaining something in the process.
In the end, though, the webinar was not a total loss for me. I spent some time this afternoon thinking about ways I balance student engagement with discernable learning outcomes in my own classes, and I'll probably do some writing about that topic a little later. I count it as blessing when my generally discontented nature allows me to examine some deeper truths.
What did you see (and hear!) today?
I attended a free webinar sponsored by the American Library Association today entitled It's All About the Student: How Students Learn and How Online Reference Sources Help. Since I teach computer skills to adults at my library I thought it would be of some use to me and I stuck with it until the end, but I didn't enjoy it much.
Commentary
The first thing I found disappointing about this webinar was that it was not a webinar, at least not in the sense of being in seminar format. The presenters were given time to present and attenders were allowed to ask questions through a chat window, but generally those were answered by a moderator. So it really wasn't the "exchange of ideas" my dictionary says a seminar is supposed to be. It was a set of lectures.
To compound the problem, the lectures themselves didn't engage me. Some of that was because I am not much of an audio learner. Instead, I'm more of a visual-kinesthetic type. There were visual aids (otherwise it would have been a podcast), but because they were PowerPoints I found myself thinking, "I could have just read these slides at my leisure instead of being chained to my desk listening to these people blather on." Or in one case, LISTENING TO THE PERSON READ HER POWERPOINT SLIDES! Are we ever going to cure people of that?
Not that I would have read the slides anyway, because they were mostly sales pitches for the online reference products sold by various companies. I probably should have expected this going in because most of the panel was composed of vendors, but I didn't think it would be quite so blatant.
Which brings me to my main problem with the whole enterprise. The first presenter, a librarian at Harvard, attempted to build a context for what we were going to hear by talking about some learning characteristics of digital natives. I didn't necessarily trust her conclusions, but at least she was speaking in the realm of ideas. After that, it was a series of "Look at these cool bells and whistles!" talks except for the very last vendor, who at least attempted to to talk about the pedagogical reasoning behind his company's offerings. I came away not only disappointed in the webinar, but in our whole educational system if this is how we decide what tools to use.
"Student engagement" is a popular concept in teacher training these days, and I agree that if someone's not paying attention, they're not likely to learn much. I'm concerned that we're confusing condiments for entrees though, trying to get students engaged using cool technology toys and ignoring whether they're actually learning and retaining something in the process.
In the end, though, the webinar was not a total loss for me. I spent some time this afternoon thinking about ways I balance student engagement with discernable learning outcomes in my own classes, and I'll probably do some writing about that topic a little later. I count it as blessing when my generally discontented nature allows me to examine some deeper truths.
What did you see (and hear!) today?
4/08/2011
I saw ideas about education
Context
I'm still reading What Would Google Do? In the section on Google U, Jarvis posits that most useful education is self-motivated and self-directing, so the current educational model of coming to a specific classroom and learning what the teacher tells you is hopelessly outdated. He allows that our schools may have a socialization function as well as an educational one, but he thinks there are plenty of other communities and experiences that could fulfill the same role.
Commentary
OK, now Jarvis has wandered into my field, so I'm bound to get touchy. Actually, I don't want to talk about education per se; I want to dive into that "socialization" thing. It seems to me that when Jarvis looks at it, he thinks of socialization as the process of helping a student find a community, literally giving them a social life in some respect.
However, that's not entirely what we expect out of schooling, especially public schooling, in this country. We don't just want students to find some community to belong to, we want them to specifically belong to the American community. The most obvious example of our attempts to create Americans is the civics class, but there are others. Take science labs. Performing experiments in school tells our kids that they shouldn't just take someone's word for something. Or gym class, where 8-year-olds learn some of the same lessons about discipline and teamwork they would if they attended military boot camp.
In fact, the biggest battles we fight over education in this country are about what "America" is. Are we a Christian people who should be taught about God in the classroom? Are we an egalitarian people who believe everyone should learn together, regardless of skills or background? Is free speech or good discipline a more important characteristic of Americans? General school board meetings are fun, but if you really want to get a lesson in civics, find a way to get yourself on a curriculum or textbook choosing committee. Then you'll really learn what this country is all about, at least in your neighbors' eyes.
Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about school as indoctrination? That is, in and of itself, an American thing. We pride ourselves on being free, independent, self-deterministic types. And, to be fair, the fact that we debate the issues mentioned above on a regular basis, rather than being dictated to by a small group of people or a time-honored tradition, speaks to how free we are. And also to why debate techniques are frequently taught in American schools.
What did you see today?
I'm still reading What Would Google Do? In the section on Google U, Jarvis posits that most useful education is self-motivated and self-directing, so the current educational model of coming to a specific classroom and learning what the teacher tells you is hopelessly outdated. He allows that our schools may have a socialization function as well as an educational one, but he thinks there are plenty of other communities and experiences that could fulfill the same role.
Commentary
OK, now Jarvis has wandered into my field, so I'm bound to get touchy. Actually, I don't want to talk about education per se; I want to dive into that "socialization" thing. It seems to me that when Jarvis looks at it, he thinks of socialization as the process of helping a student find a community, literally giving them a social life in some respect.
However, that's not entirely what we expect out of schooling, especially public schooling, in this country. We don't just want students to find some community to belong to, we want them to specifically belong to the American community. The most obvious example of our attempts to create Americans is the civics class, but there are others. Take science labs. Performing experiments in school tells our kids that they shouldn't just take someone's word for something. Or gym class, where 8-year-olds learn some of the same lessons about discipline and teamwork they would if they attended military boot camp.
In fact, the biggest battles we fight over education in this country are about what "America" is. Are we a Christian people who should be taught about God in the classroom? Are we an egalitarian people who believe everyone should learn together, regardless of skills or background? Is free speech or good discipline a more important characteristic of Americans? General school board meetings are fun, but if you really want to get a lesson in civics, find a way to get yourself on a curriculum or textbook choosing committee. Then you'll really learn what this country is all about, at least in your neighbors' eyes.
Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about school as indoctrination? That is, in and of itself, an American thing. We pride ourselves on being free, independent, self-deterministic types. And, to be fair, the fact that we debate the issues mentioned above on a regular basis, rather than being dictated to by a small group of people or a time-honored tradition, speaks to how free we are. And also to why debate techniques are frequently taught in American schools.
What did you see today?
4/06/2011
I saw an explanation of Google's success
Context
I'm reading Jeff Jarvis's What Would Google Do? As you might discern from the title, this is a book analyzing Google's business success and suggesting what other businesses could do to emulate them. According to Jarvis, one of Google's chief strength is its ability to leverage communities and their data to deliver outstanding advertising packages.
Commentary
As I told my husband, What Would Google Do? is a palette cleanser after having read Andrew Keen's The Cult of the Amateur: how today's internet is killing our culture. It's funny, before I started I would've sworn I had much more in common with Kenn's viewpoint than Jarvis's, but I found The Cult of the Amateur to be a nearly unreadable elitist screed, while What Would Google Do? is a well-reasoned, thought-provoking treatise.
Not that I agree with all of it. I understand that Google has revolutionized advertising and made it, for perhaps the first time, a viable way to make money off the internet. However, I'd like to point out two things about advertising:
1) It's annoying. In fact, I think I can make a case that Google's famous "Don't be evil" motto is violated every time they run an ad.
2) It's hard to do well. I'm on the internet a lot, because I use it a lot for my work. I see a lot of internet advertising, and most of it is bad. Here's what I define as bad internet advertising:
1) It advertises something I would never buy, like life insurance.
2) If I did ever consider buying the type of product or service advertised, I wouldn't pick this particular one, because the content of the ad seems untrustworthy.
3) The advertiser seems to be trying to distract me from #2 by using cheesy, distracting graphics (shocked babies, dancing women, etc.). Apparently, some of them use sound as well, but my work computer is always muted, so I'm spared that.
The ads that appear on Google itself may fit #1 and #2, but never #3, so I'll give them credit for that. But the prevalence of ads on other sites that do fulfill all three make me question whether "becoming a node for advertising" is the panacea Jarvis seems to think it is.
In fact, it can backfire badly: when I'm on a website, if it has the 1-2-3 punch of bad advertising, there's a good chance I'll think the site itself is disreputable or failing economically even if I like the editorial content. If I decide to not visit anymore, the advertising has hurt the site's long-term bottom line while giving it a short-term injection of cash. Everyone can be harmed by their company they keep. Even Google.
What did you see today?
I'm reading Jeff Jarvis's What Would Google Do? As you might discern from the title, this is a book analyzing Google's business success and suggesting what other businesses could do to emulate them. According to Jarvis, one of Google's chief strength is its ability to leverage communities and their data to deliver outstanding advertising packages.
Commentary
As I told my husband, What Would Google Do? is a palette cleanser after having read Andrew Keen's The Cult of the Amateur: how today's internet is killing our culture. It's funny, before I started I would've sworn I had much more in common with Kenn's viewpoint than Jarvis's, but I found The Cult of the Amateur to be a nearly unreadable elitist screed, while What Would Google Do? is a well-reasoned, thought-provoking treatise.
Not that I agree with all of it. I understand that Google has revolutionized advertising and made it, for perhaps the first time, a viable way to make money off the internet. However, I'd like to point out two things about advertising:
1) It's annoying. In fact, I think I can make a case that Google's famous "Don't be evil" motto is violated every time they run an ad.
2) It's hard to do well. I'm on the internet a lot, because I use it a lot for my work. I see a lot of internet advertising, and most of it is bad. Here's what I define as bad internet advertising:
1) It advertises something I would never buy, like life insurance.
2) If I did ever consider buying the type of product or service advertised, I wouldn't pick this particular one, because the content of the ad seems untrustworthy.
3) The advertiser seems to be trying to distract me from #2 by using cheesy, distracting graphics (shocked babies, dancing women, etc.). Apparently, some of them use sound as well, but my work computer is always muted, so I'm spared that.
The ads that appear on Google itself may fit #1 and #2, but never #3, so I'll give them credit for that. But the prevalence of ads on other sites that do fulfill all three make me question whether "becoming a node for advertising" is the panacea Jarvis seems to think it is.
In fact, it can backfire badly: when I'm on a website, if it has the 1-2-3 punch of bad advertising, there's a good chance I'll think the site itself is disreputable or failing economically even if I like the editorial content. If I decide to not visit anymore, the advertising has hurt the site's long-term bottom line while giving it a short-term injection of cash. Everyone can be harmed by their company they keep. Even Google.
What did you see today?
3/09/2011
I saw a blog post about teaching methods
Context
One of the messages on the Information Literacy Instruction mailing list today referenced this blog post. I encourage you to read it yourself, but here's the quick summary: it's about using a learning cycle consisting of assimilation, accommodation, and organization as a model for library instruction.
Commentary
This is my interpretation of the learning cycle described by Frierson: assimilation is when we receive information, accommodation is how we match up new information to what we already know, and organization is how we decide to use the information. Let me give an example of how this works: I look at my thermometer and assimilate that the temperature outside is 49 degrees Fahrenheit. I accommodate this knowledge by remembering that in the past when it has been 49 degrees, I've been pretty chilly. I organize the information by deciding to wear a coat.
Teaching is often treated as just a process of putting information out there so students can assimilate it. In return, students sometimes bypass accommodation entirely and only organize the information so they can regurgitate it on an exam. Teachers are frustrated because students don't appear to learn; students are frustrated because teachers don't appear to offer anything of lasting value (Where am I ever going to diagram sentences in the real world?).
Early in his teaching career, my husband attended a workshop called Teaching and Learning. He learned all kinds of useful stuff there; I learned for the first time that education is not just about teaching, but about learning as well. In other words, you can be the best teacher in the whole world, but if your students aren't learning, it's a pointless exercise for everyone. This can be terrifying to teachers, because although we have complete control over how we present information, we have no control over how students accommodate it or organize it. The best we can hope for is to accompany them in that process and maybe learn something ourselves.
There's also a time factor. Presenting information generally doesn't take long, whether we talk, or give the students something to read, or even demonstrate a task. However, waiting for each individual student to find existing knowledge in his/her brain to tack the new information to and decide how she/he wants to use it is not only time-consuming, it's unpredictably time-consuming.
A typical response is to say we don't have time to teach that way. I don't buy it. Here is my philosophy about time: we have time to do everything we really want to do. I have a similar philosophy about money, but I won't go into that. Anyway, when it comes to time constraints, I think what we're really saying is we don't have time to do something and . . . "I don't have time to do the dishes tonight" really means "I don't have time to do the dishes tonight and go to bed early so I can get up early tomorrow and not be sleepy." We're setting some priorities, which is reasonable, but it's not the same as having no time to do the dishes.
So why don't we have time to teach in such a way that students will want to learn and be successful doing so? Because what we prioritize more highly is "covering material." Of all the insidious ideas to infiltrate education, this has got to be the worst. OK, I'm not super fond of group work either, but I digress. I don't know how we ever got to a place where we believe it is more important for a teacher to get through a certain number of lessons or concepts or textbook pages than it is for students to actually learn something.
Actually, I'm lying. I know exactly how we got here; it's through mistrust and laziness. We don't trust teachers to teach, so we want to evaluate them. But measuring how much a student has learned, as opposed to how much he/she can remember at test time, is difficult. So we settle for a quantitative measure, like a percentage of right answers, instead of a qualitative one, like how good a student is at formulating worthwhile answers to substantive questions of her/his own devising. But man, that material gets covered!
What did you see today?
One of the messages on the Information Literacy Instruction mailing list today referenced this blog post. I encourage you to read it yourself, but here's the quick summary: it's about using a learning cycle consisting of assimilation, accommodation, and organization as a model for library instruction.
Commentary
This is my interpretation of the learning cycle described by Frierson: assimilation is when we receive information, accommodation is how we match up new information to what we already know, and organization is how we decide to use the information. Let me give an example of how this works: I look at my thermometer and assimilate that the temperature outside is 49 degrees Fahrenheit. I accommodate this knowledge by remembering that in the past when it has been 49 degrees, I've been pretty chilly. I organize the information by deciding to wear a coat.
Teaching is often treated as just a process of putting information out there so students can assimilate it. In return, students sometimes bypass accommodation entirely and only organize the information so they can regurgitate it on an exam. Teachers are frustrated because students don't appear to learn; students are frustrated because teachers don't appear to offer anything of lasting value (Where am I ever going to diagram sentences in the real world?).
Early in his teaching career, my husband attended a workshop called Teaching and Learning. He learned all kinds of useful stuff there; I learned for the first time that education is not just about teaching, but about learning as well. In other words, you can be the best teacher in the whole world, but if your students aren't learning, it's a pointless exercise for everyone. This can be terrifying to teachers, because although we have complete control over how we present information, we have no control over how students accommodate it or organize it. The best we can hope for is to accompany them in that process and maybe learn something ourselves.
There's also a time factor. Presenting information generally doesn't take long, whether we talk, or give the students something to read, or even demonstrate a task. However, waiting for each individual student to find existing knowledge in his/her brain to tack the new information to and decide how she/he wants to use it is not only time-consuming, it's unpredictably time-consuming.
A typical response is to say we don't have time to teach that way. I don't buy it. Here is my philosophy about time: we have time to do everything we really want to do. I have a similar philosophy about money, but I won't go into that. Anyway, when it comes to time constraints, I think what we're really saying is we don't have time to do something and . . . "I don't have time to do the dishes tonight" really means "I don't have time to do the dishes tonight and go to bed early so I can get up early tomorrow and not be sleepy." We're setting some priorities, which is reasonable, but it's not the same as having no time to do the dishes.
So why don't we have time to teach in such a way that students will want to learn and be successful doing so? Because what we prioritize more highly is "covering material." Of all the insidious ideas to infiltrate education, this has got to be the worst. OK, I'm not super fond of group work either, but I digress. I don't know how we ever got to a place where we believe it is more important for a teacher to get through a certain number of lessons or concepts or textbook pages than it is for students to actually learn something.
Actually, I'm lying. I know exactly how we got here; it's through mistrust and laziness. We don't trust teachers to teach, so we want to evaluate them. But measuring how much a student has learned, as opposed to how much he/she can remember at test time, is difficult. So we settle for a quantitative measure, like a percentage of right answers, instead of a qualitative one, like how good a student is at formulating worthwhile answers to substantive questions of her/his own devising. But man, that material gets covered!
What did you see today?
2/20/2011
I saw an article about banking policy
Context
I ran across this article in the Shreveport Times this morning about the Federal Reserve and Congress trying to determine the best method for regulating debit card fees, as mandated by last year's financial overhaul bill. The difficulty appears to be in getting merchants and banks to share the pain equitably.
Commentary
As far as I can tell from the article, the banks are saying they shouldn't be limited on how much they charge merchants for debit card swipes because they play an important role in the economic recovery effort and merchants are saying they need a break on these fees because they play an important role in the economic recovery effort. Taking this bait, federal officials seem to be trying to decide which of the two factions' role is more important. I think this approach is wrongheaded because both the merchants and the banks make compelling cases in this regard.
Here's another thing both parties are doing: they're trying desperately to hide these fees from the consumer. The merchants are saying when they pay high debit card swipe fees, they have to either charge customers more for goods, which may lose them customers, or cut their profit margins, which means cutting jobs. Bankers say if they have to cover the costs of fraud protection, etc. themselves, they'll have to eliminate free checking accounts which, you guessed it, may lose them customers. Neither seems to want to say directly to the consumer, "The convenience of using a debit card at the grocery store has a cost; please pay it."
Ellen Ruppel Shell, in her excellent book Cheap: the high cost of discount culture, says this is a common problem in our current culture: we have become so obsessed with "getting a good deal" that no one wants to pay the fair price for anything. Shell mostly talks about how we ignore substandard goods and/or substandard working conditions in order to fuel this overriding need, but I think the paradigm applies to other situations as well.
So I would like to propose that we take the honest approach: the Federal Reserve should determine how much a debit card swipe at a merchant costs and the banks should charge the consumers that amount per swipe. Then we could actually make (Gasp!) informed decisions about whether the convenience is worth that price instead of everybody trying to fool each other about what's going on.
What did you see today?
I ran across this article in the Shreveport Times this morning about the Federal Reserve and Congress trying to determine the best method for regulating debit card fees, as mandated by last year's financial overhaul bill. The difficulty appears to be in getting merchants and banks to share the pain equitably.
Commentary
As far as I can tell from the article, the banks are saying they shouldn't be limited on how much they charge merchants for debit card swipes because they play an important role in the economic recovery effort and merchants are saying they need a break on these fees because they play an important role in the economic recovery effort. Taking this bait, federal officials seem to be trying to decide which of the two factions' role is more important. I think this approach is wrongheaded because both the merchants and the banks make compelling cases in this regard.
Here's another thing both parties are doing: they're trying desperately to hide these fees from the consumer. The merchants are saying when they pay high debit card swipe fees, they have to either charge customers more for goods, which may lose them customers, or cut their profit margins, which means cutting jobs. Bankers say if they have to cover the costs of fraud protection, etc. themselves, they'll have to eliminate free checking accounts which, you guessed it, may lose them customers. Neither seems to want to say directly to the consumer, "The convenience of using a debit card at the grocery store has a cost; please pay it."
Ellen Ruppel Shell, in her excellent book Cheap: the high cost of discount culture, says this is a common problem in our current culture: we have become so obsessed with "getting a good deal" that no one wants to pay the fair price for anything. Shell mostly talks about how we ignore substandard goods and/or substandard working conditions in order to fuel this overriding need, but I think the paradigm applies to other situations as well.
So I would like to propose that we take the honest approach: the Federal Reserve should determine how much a debit card swipe at a merchant costs and the banks should charge the consumers that amount per swipe. Then we could actually make (Gasp!) informed decisions about whether the convenience is worth that price instead of everybody trying to fool each other about what's going on.
What did you see today?
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