Author: JP

Does the Web make experts dumb? Part 2: Who’s The Teacher?

I try and make a point of looking for the good in people; I try and make a point of looking for the good in situations; I try and make a point of looking for the good in outlook and expectation.

Those traits in me make some people believe that I’m a wild-eyed optimist, whatever the truth might be; this is particularly true of people who tend to believe that two and two make five, who are quick to draw conclusions on superficial evidence.

Against this backdrop, factor in the following: I was born in the ’50s, grew up in the ’60s and early ’70s. I cite Jerry Garcia, Stewart Brand and Lewis Hyde as early influences (people did read in the ’60s and ’70s); I learnt to dance to Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen (it’s harder than it sounds); I love spending time in San Francisco; and I call myself a retired hippie.

So some people think I’m a pinko lefty treehugging wild-eyed optimist. In short, a Utopian.  And you can’t blame them.

Which is why, when I make assertions like I did last night: suggesting that the Web actually reduces barriers to entry when it comes to “expertise”, and that traditional experts (myself included) are becoming less scarce, less distinctive, less “valuable”: I need to back up the assertions with some concrete evidence rather than just theory.

Which is what I intend to do tonight.

I want to point you towards evidence of the Great Leveller status of the internet. Some evidence I found intriguing at first, compelling as I got into it, and finally inspiring.

Sugata Mitra: courtesy of the TED Blog

So let me tell you the story of Sugata Mitra, polymath, professor, chief scientist emeritus. A man with an incredible vision and the willingness to do something about it. He speaks English and Bengali, a little German, spent time in Calcutta, works with computers and is passionate about education. So maybe I’m a little biased. Bear with me.

Professor Mitra is responsible for introducing me (and a gazillion others) to the concept of Minimally Invasive Education or MIE. In simple terms, over a decade ago, he ran an experiment called Hole In the Wall which took PCs and stuck them in walls in slums, with no explanation or instruction. And watched as children learnt.

Some of you must be thinking, he must have gotten lucky, a flash in the pan. Yes. Eleven years later. Nine countries later. 300 Holes-In-The-Wall later. 300,000 students later. You could say he got lucky.

I prefer to think he called it right. I was privileged to hear Professor Mitra at TED, and to shake his hand. I have had an instinctive and long-seated belief in the incredible potential of humanity, and hearing his story reinforced my belief. You can find his TED talks here and here.

One of my favourite practitioners and writers on leadership, Max De Pree, characterised leaders as people who do just two things: set strategy and direction and say thank you. In between those two things, he said leaders are servants and debtors. Since reading some of his works in the late 1980s, I’ve considered “getting out of the way” to be an essential component of good leadership.

If you ever wanted rebuttals to abominations like the Bell Curve; if you ever wanted refutations to arguments about the web making us dumber; if you ever wanted evidence to challenge assertions about the cult of the amateur; then look no further than Sugata Mitra’s research. Thank you Professor Mitra. And thank you TED, particularly Chris Anderson and Bruno Guissani for bringing Professor Mitra to my attention and then giving me the chance to meet him.

All teachers are learners. All learners are teachers. Teachers and learners are not just passionately curious a la Einstein; they want to see everyone discover their potential, achieve it and improve upon it.

Stories like Sugata Mitra’s inspire me. They make me believe that battles to ensure ubiquitous affordable connectivity are worth while; they make me believe that wars to eradicate inappropriate IPR are worth while; they make me believe that the Digital Divide can be avoided.

They remind me of the incredible potential every child represents. The incredible responsibility every parent, every teacher, every human has towards generations to come. The critical value of education in that context.

So if people want to believe the internet dumbs people down, fine. That’s their choice, and I don’t have to agree with them. It will not stop me wanting to use the internet to level the playing field, to help ensure that access to information, to knowledge, to wisdom is not the birthright of the privileged few alone.

Another data point. Last year I spent some time in Italy with my family (it was our 25th wedding anniversary, and we took the children to Sorrento, where we’d honeymooned in 1984). And we went to Pompeii. Where we met a fantastic guide called Mario. Who was 65 years old, a real expert. And he was stopping working for a while. Going back to school. Because the web had reduced the value of his expertise.

The problem, the weakening of the value of “expertise”, is instructive. His response, to go back to school at 65, is even more instructive. You can read all about it here, in a post I wrote at the time.

[By the way, thanks for your comments yesterday. I will wait for further comments tonight and tomorrow, and then try and round things off in a final post later this week.]

Does the web make experts dumb?

For information to have power, it needs to be held asymmetrically. Preferably very very asymmetrically. Someone who knows something that others do not know can do something potentially useful and profitable with that information.

Information can be asymmetric in a number of ways. The first, and simplest, is asymmetry-in-access. If you can make sure that no one else has access to information that you have access to, if you’re in a position to deny others access to the information, then you can do something useful with it. In the old days this was called keeping a secret. Keeping something secret is not wrong per se. But if that secret is privileged information, there are many things you cannot do with it. Like trade on it. Or blackmail someone as a result of it.

Nevertheless, for centuries, people have made money by having asymmetric access to information. And for the most part they’ve done it legally.

A second form of asymmetry is in effect a special case of asymmetry-in-access: asymmetry-in-creation. If you create/originate the information in question, then it is possible to prevent anyone else from knowing it. All you have to do is make sure that you don’t tell anyone. Kenny Dalglish, while managing Liverpool in the mid-to-late 1980s,  was asked how he’d managed to keep Ian Rush’s return from Juventus a secret. In answer he said ‘It was simple. I didn’t tell anyone”.

If you choose not to share something you’ve created, then you are in a position to be the only person in the world to enjoy it. Take a work of art or music or literature. As creator, you can choose to share whatever you’ve created with nobody; with just one person; with just a few people; the choice is yours. And you can charge for this access. Some people may think you’re being selfish, some people may consider you “sad” as a result, but you have every right. What you’re doing is legal. You’re protecting the scarce nature of what you’ve created, and seeking to exploit that scarcity.

For centuries people have made money out of creating unique things, scarce things, and then charging others when they want access or ownership.

A third form of asymmetry is really a derivative form, where the information is itself not of much use without some way of comprehending it, parsing it, interpreting it: asymmetry-in-education. Equality in educational rights may be a much-vaunted goal, but it’s not there. Equality of opportunity continues to be mandated, and may well happen in your lifetime. Equality of outcome cannot be legislated. Asymmetry-in-education has therefore continued to persist despite the efforts of well-meaning people over the past century or so.

This form of asymmetry has been exploited by experts in many guises: doctors, lawyers, priests, even IT consultants. And their theme song is simple. “You didn’t have to work as hard as I did to know what I know. It’s complex, you won’t understand it.”. In many cases, this situation was exacerbated by the use of foreign languages, preferably dead foreign languages. And, just in case that wasn’t enough, the smoke and mirrors of specialist terminology, jargon, abbreviation and convention was used to obfuscate the environment.

For millennia experts have exploited this asymmetry and wielded power and amassed wealth as a result.

There is a fourth, and final, form of asymmetry: asymmetry-by-design. This is where you take something that is essentially abundant and, through fair means or foul, get it redefined as scarce. Most implementations of Digital Rights Management are attempts to create asymmetric access, make something scarce by design. At a level of abstraction, iPhone and Android apps are essentially the same thing in disguise: thinly-veiled attempts to make abundant things scarce.

Creating artificial scarcity out of something that is essentially abundant is also not wrong per se. But there can be legal and moral implications. Building a dam near the source of a river and charging people for access to the water may sound reasonable; on the other hand, there may be strong grounds for “grandfathered” rights to that water. Society, through the ages, has seen fit to protect the view (as in “ancient lights”), walks (as in ramblers’ rights) and even open spaces (as in commons).

[Speaking of commons, permit me an aside. There appears to be a tendency for people to use the term “by hook or by crook” to mean the equivalent of “by fair means or foul”. This is inaccurate. If you wanted to chop down wood for firewood, you were entitled to use your hook or your crook to get to branches and limbs of trees in the commons. Only fair means. No foul means.]

Asymmetry in access. Asymmetry in creation. Asymmetry in education. Asymmetry by design.

Asymmetries all of them. Asymmetries that allowed people to wield power and to amass wealth. For the most part legally.

Then, along comes the internet. Along comes the Web.

The world’s biggest copy machine, as Kevin Kelly reminded us.

Suddenly asymmetry of access was weakened, holed amidships below the waterline. One of the nicest things about the web is that it levels the playing field for access. More accurately, it is capable of levelling the playing field for access. And it is for this reason that “net neutrality” arguments tend to get most heated where there isn’t any true competition for access. Given real transparency and real competition for access, there would not be a need for legislation.

Copying machines are not designed to make things scarce. As a result, anything made available on the internet was relatively easy to copy. Which in turn meant that anything that was expressed as a digital object was difficult to make scarce. Many many industries have made money for many many years on the basis of relative scarcity; their concepts of pricing were based on scarcity models. So they tried to make the inherent abundance of the internet into something scarcer by using DRM or its more sophisticated new form, the App.

This approach, asymmetry-by-creation, and its alter ego, asymmetry-by-design, are about creating artificial scarcity. This is fundamentally doomed. I’ve said it many times. Every artificial scarcity will be met by an equal and opposite artificial abundance. And, over time, the abundance will win. There will always be more people choosing to find ways to undo DRM than people employed in the DRM-implementing sector. Always.

So when people create walled-garden paid apps, others will create unpaid apps that get to the same material. It’s only a matter of time. Because every attempt at building dams and filters on the internet is seen as pollution by the volunteers. It’s not about the money, it’s about the principle. No pollutants.

Which brings me to the reason for this post. There’s been a lot of talk about the web and the internet making us dumber.

I think it’s more serious than that. What the web does is reduce the capacity for asymmetry in education. Which in turn undermines the exalted status of the expert.

The web makes experts “dumb”. By reducing the privileged nature of their expertise.

I have three children born since 1986. One has finished her Master’s and is now a teacher. One has just finished his A Levels and is taking a “gap year” before starting university in a year’s time. The third is still in school.

The web has made them smarter. They know things I did not know at their age, and I had privileged upbringing and access. They know things more deeply than I did. Their interest in things analog is unabated, they think of the web as an AND to their analog lives rather than an OR.

Many of you reading this are experts; I myself am considered an expert in some things. And the status bestowed upon us by our expertise is dwindling

So what?

We should rejoice that access to the things that made us experts is now getting easier, cheaper and more universal.

We should rejoice that generations to come will out-expert us in every field we care to name.

We should rejoice that we continue to enter a world where the economics of abundance is displacing the economics of scarcity.

We should rise up every time there is an attempt to pollute the path of open access.

The web is not making us dumb. It is the expert in us that is being made to look dumb. And that is a Good Thing.

Views? Comments? I suspect this post might attract a few flames….

Thinking about waste

I am beholden to TS Holen for the wonderful photograph above, which he calls Ready-made Waste

To repeat what I said yesterday, as most of you probably know, I was born and brought up in Calcutta. A busy, vibrant city inhabited by millions of people. Who create a lot of waste.

While I lived there, I was fascinated by how this waste fed an entire human and economic ecosystem, the Indian and modern equivalent of the waste-pickers, scavengers, and rag-and-bone men. This ecosystem is not unique to Calcutta or even to my lifetime; Steven Johnson does a wonderful job of describing the way all this happened in Dickensian London in his book, The Ghost Map; if you haven’t read it, get yourself a copy today, it’s well worth a read. In fact all of Steven’s books are worth a read. Really.

My thanks to Rajib Singha for his composition above, Romancing the Raj: dung cakes drying on a wall in Bagbazar while a tram approaches

When I looked at waste in this context, one of the things that excited and astounded me was the vibrancy and sheer sustainability of the ecosystem around waste, as evinced by the way cowdung is mixed with straw, dried on walls and then used as cheap fuel in many parts of the world. Growing up amidst such practices taught me something: I learnt to respect waste and to recognise that people had livelihoods deeply intertwined with waste. Last year, I had the opportunity to walk around parts of Calcutta late one night, and experienced both joy as well as shock as I saw the ecosystem in action.

Over the years I’ve carried this learning into somewhat different contexts, particularly when it comes to project management and delivery. You see, I felt it was reasonable to consider all inefficiency as waste. As a consequence, when I observed an inefficient practice at work, I tried to identify the ecosystem participants for that waste, the people whose livelihoods depend on that waste. Because they were the ones most likely to push back against any change in work practices and processes. All projects are fundamentally about change, and unless such immune-system agents are identified and taken into account,  project failure is likely.

This is not some deep personal insight. Software developers, especially those who use design patterns, are usually extremely competent at analysing the as-is context from the viewpoint of problems and workarounds. What problems need to be solved. What workarounds exist today. Which inefficiencies have become enshrined in work practices. The developer then sets out to identify the root causes for the workarounds, to design more appropriate responses and to plan for sensible migration paths from the workarounds.

Sometimes the workarounds are so deeply embedded that resistance is extremely high and, as a result, the temptation to fossilise the workaround into the system is immense. Which is why software developers are heard to say things like “there’s nothing as permanent as a temporary fix”.

Which brings me to the crux of this post. Once you accept that inefficiency can be considered equivalent to waste, you can walk untrodden paths. Like the waste built into ways of marketing, selling and distributing digital content, ways that carry the habits of the analogue world, ways that exist primarily to feed the mouths of the ecosystem around that waste.

Music. Advertising. Newspapers. All marketed, sold, distributed with analogue overlays on digital processes. The kind of thinking that encourages people to design region coding for DVDs. [What customer value does that generate?]

Music. Advertising. Newspapers. Industries with waste built into their historical processes. Industries with ecosystems of people built around that waste, people with mouths to feed and bills to pay.

And now we have the cloud. Which is fundamentally about a new way of doing business, seeking to eradicate the waste that permeates most enterprise data centres. Overprovisioning is not a bad thing per se, but there’s overprovisioning and then there’s what’s been happening for a few decades, whole orders of magnitude off from sensible overprovisioning.

The cloud is about eradicating waste.

Waste that feeds a massive ecosystem.

A massive ecosystem that will rise up and seek to prevent the eradication of that waste.

We’ve already seen this happen in the music business; we’ve already seen this happen in advertising; we’re seeing this happen in newspapers. And now we will see this happen in cloud.

People have built immense business models around erstwhile waste, the organisations have themselves grown immense as a result, and now they wield immense political and financial power. So they know how to arbitrage the situation and ensure that such inefficiencies are protected by law, by regulation. Which is what has been happening in copyright and intellectual property. Witness the abominations of the Digital Economy Act, of ACTA, of Hadopi.

Unlike the waste pickers and scavengers of prior centuries, the 20th and 21st century waste pickers haven’t evolved, haven’t adapted, haven’t faded gracefully away. Because they’re powerful enough to freeze progress, to insist on keeping their particular wastes in place.

But there’s one problem.

A big problem.

We can’t afford the waste any more. No longer sustainable.

Which is where I think Vendor Relationship Management (VRM) comes in. VRM represents a way through this impasse, by placing the power where it should be: with the customer. It is the customer who has the highest motivation to eradicate waste in a system; yes, tools are necessary to help identify the waste and to deal with the waste.

The r-button or the relationship button, a key concept in VRM

One way of looking at VRM tools is that they will reduce human transactional latency by concentrating on the customer and the relationship first and on the transaction only as a consequence of that.

Doc Searls, the driving force behind VRM, has been a personal friend and mentor for many years now. This post was catalysed as a result of a recent conversation with him. The way advertising works now, the way we buy and sell, the way CRM systems operate, it’s all one-way. There’s a lot of inbuilt waste, waste that can be reduced, even annihilated, by giving customers the right voice, empowerment and tools. Which is really what VRM is about.

There’s a workshop to do with all this coming up next week, to be held at the Harvard Law School. People can contact Doc at dsearls AT cyber.law.harvard.edu, or on Twitter through @dsearls.

Make any sense? Let me know what you think.

Thinking about privacy and asymmetry

If you’ve ever been to Calcutta, you will know something about crowds.

[My thanks to Accidents Will Happen for the wonderful Calcutta scene above.]

As many of you know, I was born there. A teeming city with many millions of people. I spent much of my childhood and youth in a small flat with an open-door guest policy; it was rare that we had less than 10 people staying in what was essentially a 2-bed 1500 square foot perch. I was educated at St Xavier’s Collegiate School (and College) from 1966 to 1979; I think we had around 1200 students in the school, and over twice that number at the college.

So I was used to crowds, and to living in vertical stacks. My concepts of privacy were therefore somewhat different from those that would have been obtained by people brought up in many parts of the West.

One of those concepts relates to the role of symmetric and asymmetric information in the context of privacy. If everyone knows something about you, and you know that everyone knows that something, then you would have no real privacy concerns. Gossip, along with its more malevolent avatar, blackmail, both rely on asymmetric information, where only a few people know something and others don’t. It is only then that information has power; it is only then that the power can be used; sadly, much of the time, such use tends to be at best immoral and often downright illegal.

It’s therefore important to know who has access to information about you, and who could have access. It’s important to understand what is in the public domain; it is even more important to understand what isn’t in the public domain, but remains accessible to people with peculiar powers and abilities, ranging from individuals to governments.

Which is why I’ve tended to follow debates about privacy with considerable interest, even if my experiences were fundamentally different.

In this context, I’ve really enjoyed reading the work of danah boyd over the years. I was particularly taken with something she wrote a few weeks ago in First Monday. Along with co-author Eszter Hargittai, danah’s written an excellent paper called Facebook Privacy Settings: Who Cares?

If you have any interest in privacy, particularly when it comes to privacy attitudes amongst the millenials, I would urge you to read the paper. Rich in data, it will help you understand more about generational differences related to privacy, and, in all probability, will dispel some of the myths you’ve been fed over the years.

I think the point that danah and Eszter make about the role of default settings and their effect on newbies is particularly important, and should not be underestimated. I quote:

The relationship between adjusting privacy settings and frequency of use as well as skill suggests that technological familiarity matters when it comes to how people approach the privacy settings of their Facebook accounts. This is particularly significant when we consider the role of default settings. If those who are the least familiar with a service are the least likely to adjust how their account is set up regarding privacy matters then they are the most likely to be exposed if the default settings are open or if the defaults change in ways that expose more of their content. This suggests that the vulnerability of the least skilled population is magnified by how companies choose to set or adjust default privacy settings.

This issue is not just about facebook, it is something that every firm will have to learn about and respond to. More to follow, in a week or two. In the meantime, let me know what you think.

Thinking about better mousetraps and the Maker Generation

Do you ever read Make Magazine? If you don’t, you should. You’re missing out. Take this article for example, from the October 2007 issue. A simple, brief piece about using everyday household objects to build non-lethal mousetraps.

The article in turn leads to Roger Arquer’s site, who then gives us a taxonomy of humane household-item-based mousetraps, shown below,  along with detailed examples:

[Incidentally, going along to Thorsten van Elten’s site, referenced above, is also worthwhile.] It’s also worth looking at the 16 comments on the original Make article; the conversation is useful, markedly different from the garbage you get on some of the popular sites, immortalised in the “Brandon Mylenek” Onion article from a couple of years ago, shown briefly below:

By all means read the whole Onion article here, but do make sure you aren’t eating or drinking anything while you do so: I don’t want to be responsible for the accidents that may ensue. Back to the mousetraps. One of Roger Arquer’s more intriguing designs was this one:

Bulb, open neck, heavy base, kept in equilibrium by the weight of the nut. Mouse goes in, dislodges nut, bulb straightens, job done. So five years later, ostensibly influenced by Roger’s design (though ideas can and do happen serendipitously in parallel), someone comes up with this:

Humane: the mouse (or even, for that matter, the gerbil modelling the device’s usage) does not get harmed. Safe: Nothing that can trap a child’s fingers or cause a child to be hurt. Durable and long-lasting: No moving parts at all. Judo-like: The only energy expended is by the mouse while trapping itself. Global: Nothing in the design that makes it hard to produce the device in Seattle, Singapore, Sao Paulo, Seoul or Sierra Leone. And you can get under the hood: No sealed components to worry about, nothing you can’t fix or repair yourself. Cheap: Anyone can make a workable variant using everyday household materials. A “maker” solution. [I haven’t been able to check the patent position, but it would be oh-so-fantastic to find out that the patent was Creative Commons based. If any reader knows the answer, please let me know.]

Design has always been about building better mousetraps. What’s changed is that the success criteria look different. Now we have to concern ourselves a lot more with safety, with usability, with sustainability. Not that earlier designers didn’t do so; it’s just that the priorities have changed. About a year ago, over dinner with friend and namesake MR Rangaswami and his close friend CK Prahalad, who, sadly, passed away a couple of months ago. At the dinner, “CK” spent some time talking about the ideas that later became this seminal article on sustainable innovation. I would strongly recommend that you read it: CK, MR and Ram Nidomolu tackle some very important themes within it. One of the ideas that CK mentioned was that of a washing machine with a special microchip. A microchip with a simple and specific purpose: remember the “state” of the machine, the cycle being performed. Why? So that a restart could be carried out from the right point. Doesn’t sound very innovative or useful? That means you haven’t really been to India. A country where “power cuts” and “load shedding” are common, where whole swathes of city lose power for a few hours when demand greatly exceeds supply and the available power gets rationed. In such an environment, restarting washing machines from scratch would be a real waste. [Yes, you can argue that the washing machine itself is a waste, and that DIY dhobis are required, but that’s for another post.] Wonder what a dhobi is? This wonderful photograph, by Elishams, will show you:

Thinking about India and sustainability brings something else to mind. My sister and her family are visiting the UK right now, we’re going to see Crosby, Stills and Nash in concert at the Royal Albert Hall tonight. The family were over for dinner last night, and we were reminiscing. [I have four siblings, and we haven’t all been together in one place since 1982; we’re hoping to fix that soon.] The conversation meandered quite a bit; one of the things it touched on was the streetside tea we used to enjoy in Calcutta as children and young adults. Cue the “matka”:

Photo courtesy VijayKumarBalaji

The matka. What wonderful memories. Early morning walks around the maidan in the mist, gentle conversations with friends, matkas of adhrak chai (ginger-spiced tea), with the matka flung in gay abandon into the nearby ditch when done. Makes me think. It’s been decades since I first heard the term “biodegradable”, decades of plastic bags and plastic containers and plastic everything. What is it with us that we avoid doing anything about such things? What makes us care so little? Have you ever read Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring? It’s hard to believe that by the time the next Olympics comes along, that book is going to be 50 years old. Yet we do so little. I think it’s all changing with the new generation, they come into our wasteful lives with different attitudes; they care about the avoidance of unnecessary packaging; they are natively, intuitively better stewards of their environment. Stewardship. Something we’re going to have to do a lot more about in design, by design. Talking about design again, one more book you should read is Tim Brown’s Change By Design. Excellent. Must review it soon, been meaning to do that for about a year now. Sustainability in design comes in many shapes. Nowadays, when I cook food, I make a point of piling up the packaging waste that accompanies the food ingredients; over time, that has allowed me to become smarter at buying ingredients that don’t come with stupid packaging. And I’m not alone in this: half the world’s consumers would give up convenience packaging to help the environment, according to Nielsen. So. In summary. There’s a new generation out there. There are new problems out there. And in between there’s design. Design of things that will sustain; things that are cheap to build; things you can repair yourself; things that aren’t wasteful in energy or even packaging; things that don’t harm other living creatures. Things that are easy and convenient to use. We’ve spoken a long time about building better mousetraps. The Maker Generation are doing something about it.

The Maker Generation. Their time has come.