One way of conceptualizing the answer is the unit of selection. It’s the idea that natural selection happens at a variety of levels: genes, cells, individuals, groups. When you look at ants, you don’t just look at individuals, you also look at colonies. At the colony level, there is an enormous benefit to specialization. Having thousands of sterile disposable workers lets you do all kinds of things that individually self-interested organisms mightn’t.

photo credit: sharkbait

A similar explanation has been offered for why homosexuality keeps occurring in nature. Naively, you might wonder why it hasn’t been bred out of existence; individuals who are born homosexual are unlikely to have kids. It’s possible that having a certain percentage of your family be childless has a benefit to the group. If the group persists, then the genes will be carried on.

How big do the units of selection get? Family? Tribe? Society? Nation? Civilization?

Consider Stephen Hawking. He’s one of the smartest people around. The beneficial consequences of his discoveries still haven’t been worked out. In any other period of history, he’d be long dead or incapable of communicating his ideas. In a significant portion of our world, he’d be dead. The unit of selection is something like: Stephen Hawking + technoculture capable of building a speech synthesizer and keeping him alive + technoculture capable of benefiting from his insights.

No one knows how to make a pencil, economists like to point out. We rely on a massive network of local expertise and an infrastructure of transportation to pull all the parts together. James Burke’s Connections makes the same point over and over again. The first episode especially so, beginning with a blackout in NYC and proceeding to a fantasy about the collapse of civilization and what you’d need, in order to survive.

The collapse fantasy comes up all over the place. A fear or hope that it’s all spinning plates, liable to come crashing down at any moment. So we bullshit about what we’d do if the zombies come, or we carefully put together our 72 hour survival kits, or we spend weekends in the woods learning “essential” skills.

Gun rights, gardening, anything to help in the great unknown.

From The Texas Survivalist

No one knows how to make a gun, either.

Survivalists fascinate me. They are in effect small groups of people attempting to redraw the borders of selection units. If the broader technoculture is the one by which most of us thrive or perish, serious survivalism is a bet on both the fragility of the larger system and one’s ability to continue past its end. In contrast, someone like me – perpetually connected, mildly asthmatic – won’t even make it to the wall when the revolution comes. The survivalists, meanwhile, expect to be happily ensconced in their compound, building a new authentic life while the rest of us go mad or starve.

The unit of selection is shorthand for a lot of ideas, and the edges of a unit are rarely precise. There is fluidity to definition. Civilization may collapse, but into rival tribes. A tribe might fall apart, while a family goes on. Two tribes might come together while a single loner escapes into the night.

For humans, disconnecting isn’t easy, indeed it may be impossible. In his manifesto, Ted Kaczynski (the Unabomber) considers the problem.

118 Conservatives and some others advocate more “local autonomy.” Local communities once did have autonomy, but such autonomy becomes less and less possible as local communities become more enmeshed with and dependent on large-scale systems like public utilities, computer networks, highway systems, the mass communications media, the modern health care system. Also operating against autonomy is the fact that technology applied in one location often affects people at other locations far away. Thus pesticide or chemical use near a creek may contaminate the water supply hundreds of miles downstream, and the greenhouse effect affects the whole world.

Ted Kaczynski Industrial Society and Its Future

You might feel that society is going the wrong way, Kaczynski argues, but you get very little say in the direction. If a decision affects a million people, you get (on average) a millionth share. And if the decision affects 6.7 billion?

Jamais Cascio has spent a great deal of time looking at the problem of global warming and the possibility of using geo-engineering as a tool to combat the worst of its effects. He’s also considered the fallout from those kinds of actions. There’s the obvious stuff like unintended consequences or uneven effects (say saving the Midwest breadbasket means drought in Cuba). And then there’s conflict over who gets to decide where, what kind, and how much geo-engineering happens.

In this scenario, the leadership of a powerful state might come to believe that:

• The effects of decarbonization would be slow and diffuse, but
• Said powerful state was well-suited to engage in adaptation projects, while
• The rival(s) of said powerful state were more vulnerable to the impacts of anthropogenic global warming, so that
• The rival(s) would be weakened relative to said powerful state if the effects of global warming persisted and said powerful state adapted.

In short, a powerful state believing itself better-able to adapt to or withstand the effects of global warming might see a persistent advantage to its rivals being hurt by global warming, and slow its decarbonization accordingly.

If all of that sounds ludicrous to you, you’ve probably forgotten about (or never lived through) the Cold War between the US and the Soviet Union.

Jamais Cascio A Cold War Over Warming

7 angels with trumpets aside, the Cold War is probably the first time that a truly global unit of selection existed. 40 years is a long time to spend on the hair trigger edge of global annihilation, (we may still be). Though global integration is far from comprehensive, it’s hard to deny that there are more and more causal links all over the world and that they are getting stronger. The usual suspects can parade out at this point: global warming, the Internet, the stock market crash, food security, nuclear warfare, global pandemic, Coca Cola.

What to do? With only one unit of selection, the question of humanity’s survival becomes all or nothing. If you rely on overseas shipping for your food, then even jitters in the market can cause havoc. When the Mayan civilization collapsed, it had no effect at all on events in Europe or Asia. Now, we risk drowning entire islands because of bad decisions made decades ago.

Kaczynski thinks we should tear things down sooner rather than later.

2. The industrial-technological system may survive or it may break down. If it survives, it MAY eventually achieve a low level of physical and psychological suffering, but only after passing through a long and very painful period of adjustment and only at the cost of permanently reducing human beings and many other living organisms to engineered products and mere cogs in the social machine. Furthermore, if the system survives, the consequences will be inevitable: There is no way of reforming or modifying the system so as to prevent it from depriving people of dignity and autonomy.

3. If the system breaks down the consequences will still be very painful. But the bigger the system grows the more disastrous the results of its breakdown will be, so if it is to break down it had best break down sooner rather than later.

Ted Kaczynski Industrial Society and Its Future

Hawking thinks we should establish extra-terrestrial colonies as soon as possible.

“It is important for the human race to spread out into space for the survival of the species,” Hawking said. “Life on Earth is at the ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster, such as sudden global warming, nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers we have not yet thought of.”

Hawking: Space exploration a necessity by Sylvia Hui, Associated Press

Both solutions are aspects of the same approach. When the unit grows in size and power such that a self-perpetrated disaster could wipe out the entire territory, we must either shrink the size, or grow the territory. Either way, the scope of consequences must be limited. Otherwise? They had a name for that in the Cold War: “Mutually Assured Destruction.”

At this point, any number of post-humanists might pop up and point out that extinction might not be the end.

There is a possibly apocryphal story about a conversation on the subject of the solar system between Wittgenstein and a student. Wittgenstein asks the student why early people thought that the sun went around the earth. The student says that it’s because it looks that way. Wittgenstein asks, “And how would it look if the earth went around the sun?”

2.

In 1997, a real-estate bubble driven by financial speculation in the Asian Tiger economies reached its peak and burst. The resulting crash sparked international panic, threatening to bring down the world economy. In Thailand, construction halted on dozens of massive projects. 13 years later, those buildings are still standing.

Ban Phe is a fishing village about 2 hours outside of Bangkok. Look it up in travel guides and they will confidently tell you that the only reason you’ll be there is to catch a ferry to Ko Samet, a popular vacation island. There are at least 7 massive resorts within a 15-minute scooter drive. Nearly all are unfinished and abandoned. They tower incongruously over the countryside. The total capacity would have been in the tens-of-thousands.

3.

The Skyscraper Index posits that record-breaking construction projects are indicators of an irrationally exuberant economy and harbingers of doom.

4.

Up close, the Thai resorts are being slowly reclaimed by the jungle.

These are not slap-dash projects. They were well funded and carefully designed. They would have been nice places. Rooftop patios overlook what would have been ornate pools.

5.

*We’ve long had a term of art for old buildings that are ruined: they’re called “ruins.”

*However, we lack a term of art for “ruins” that are actually buildings never completed. Sometimes they’re completed buildings that are never sold, and therefore they start falling over before they were ever inhabited. This would be the American real-estate bust version of the phenomenon.

*Another version is the abandoned, incomplete high-rise. Commonly a steel and cement framework is erected (because that’s pretty easy), and then there’s some legal or economic brouhaha and the builders just down tools and walk off. In Brazil a skeleton framework of this kind is called a “squelette.”

Bruce Sterling Ruins of the Present

6.

The post-apocalypse is a comforting fantasy. It implies that things will only ever get that bad due to catastrophe. We say Detroit looks like a post-apocalyptic city because we are really bad at conceptualizing decline. Detroit got that way gradually.

“How would it look if it had just slowly fallen apart?”

7.

What would it have been like to live through the fall of Rome? You’d have been very old. The decline of the Roman Empire took 320 years. That’s 12 generations of people. Did each generation say that things used to be better in the old days? They were right, I suppose.

8.

When then end came to Thailand’s boom, somewhere an architecture firm – perhaps specializing in premium exotic locations – quietly removed all reference to certain projects from their portfolio.

9.

In Towards Hackable Architecture, Ethan Zuckerman considers the problem that architects face when they are asked by people with more money than sense to envision insane projects, in this case, building a hotel that is “Dubai meets Disney in Dakar”.

Many of the teams fought the question, arguing that the goal was to persuade the developer that the only way to compete in a global market was combining luxury with responsibility. But my favorite response came from an architect who referenced the ideas of creative reuse in my talk and said, “Build the hotel. Assume it’s going to fail and be left to fall apart. How do you build a building so that it can be hacked after the fact?”

Ethan Zuckerman Towards Hackable Architecture

10.

In my mind, there are two images of the Coliseum. The first is of the contemporary ruin. The second is of gladiators, lions, and Christians. But the last gladiatorial fights happened in 435 and the modern ruin wasn’t fully excavated until the 1930s.

That’s 1,500 years of neglect and adaptive re-use that aren’t part of the cultural picture of the building. Here are some things that happened: A church was built into the side; it was fortified and possibly used as a castle; a religious order lived in the northern third from the 1350s to the 1800s (what was happening in the other two thirds?); they considered turning it into a wool factory; they used it briefly for bullfights.

11.

*Occasionally squatters move into “squelettes” and bring in some breeze-block, corrugated tin and plastic hoses, transforming squelettes into high-rise favelas. This doesn’t work very well because it’s tough to manage the utilities, especially the water.

Bruce Sterling Ruins of the Present

12.

There are many more ruins than there have been cataclysms.

photo credit: santo rizzuto

A Fable of Foresight

The first time I heard about the oak beams of College Hall, was in Danny Hillis’ Wired article about the 10,000 year clock, now the flagship project of the Long Now Foundation. He’s retelling it from Stewart Brand, who tells the story as a kind of morality fable in the excellent book and TV series How Buildings Learn.

Summary: New College at Oxford was founded in the late 1300s. The great dining hall was built with enormous oak beams. In the late 1800s, they discovered that there were beetles in the beams. Dismay ensued – no one knew where they’d find oak trees big enough to replace the lost beams. Someone had the bright idea to summon the college forester and ask him if there was any oak available.

“You don’t cut them oaks, them’s for the College Hall.”

Stewart Brand’s Version of the Tale (1:20)

Brand ends the story thus: “That’s the way to run a culture.” The implication being (given that all the college people had lost track of the oak) that we aren’t running ours that way anymore.

Hillis’ version is even more accusatory.

The 14th-century builder had planted the trees in anticipation of the time, hundreds of years in the future, when the beams would need replacing. Did the carpenters plant new trees to replace the beams again a few hundred years from now?

A timely message of prudence and foresight which, fortunately, differs from reality in two important ways.

What Actually Happens in the Forests of New College

When the story first started to circulate, the New College archivist looked into things. Here’s the actual history (emphasis mine):

In 1859, the JCR told the SCR that the roof in Hall needed repairing, which was true.

In 1862, the senior fellow was visiting College estates on ‘progress’, i.e., an annual review of College property, which goes on to this day (performed by the Warden). Visiting forests in Akeley and Great Horwood, Buckinghamshire (forests which the College had owned since 1441), he had the largest oaks cut down and used to make new beams for the ceiling.

It is not the case that these oaks were kept for the express purpose of replacing the Hall ceiling. It is standard woodland management to grow stands of mixed broadleaf trees e.g., oaks, interplanted with hazel and ash. The hazel and ash are coppiced approximately every 20-25 years to yield poles. The oaks, however, are left to grow on and eventally, after 150 years or more, they yield large pieces for major construction work such as beams, knees etc.

Now THAT’s the way to run a culture.

The problem with the foresight described in Brand’s version of the story is that it’s incredibly fragile. What if the dining hall had burned down before the oaks had regrown? What if the one stand of oaks had burned? What if no one had thought to talk to the foresters? What if the foresters had all died at some point, breaking the transfer of knowledge?

New College’s actual method is much more robust. Cultural continuity is ensured by regular visits keeping the foresters and college administrators in touch. Materials continuity is ensured by having redundant oaks spread over the college lands. No one oak is destined to be the future beam at College Hall. Instead, they have A BUNCH OF OAK, available for whatever purpose might arise, including burning the great hall to the ground, three years in a row.

Take this lesson. Apply it to your work.

2007: Developer ensures islands will be safe from rising sea levels

Nakheel, which is the developer of The Palm islands and The World, says it followed the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s (IPCC) estimation of a rise of 30cm to 50cm by 2100 when it prepared its plans for the islands. “It goes without saying that both short and long-term [sea level] rises are always considered in the design of Nakheel coastal projects,” said Dr Louay A Mohammad, a scientist with Nakheel.

“The upper end of the range is adopted by Nakheel, which is in line with International Marine and Coastal Structures Design Practices. We are therefore confident that the sustainability of our waterfront projects is ensured in the long term.” The developer, however, did not comment on the recent report from international ocean expert Stefan Rahmstorf, published in the journal Science, which said the increase was more likely to be 1.4 metres by 2100 – nearly triple the IPCC estimation.

2009: Oceans Rising Faster Than UN Forecast, Scientists Say

Ocean levels have been rising by 3.1 millimeters a year since 2000, a rate that’s predicted to grow, according to the study. The projections of sea levels rising by a meter this century compare with the 18 to 59 centimeters (7 to 23 inches) forecast by the IPCC.

((Oops))

photo credit: saharsh

Why is this important?

In a storage locker in Halifax, there is a small box which theoretically contains copies of every essay I wrote in high school. These essays are stored on a stack of floppy disks. I’ll probably never read them again. For this to be otherwise, a lot of things would need to come true.

1. I figure out which Mac OS I was running (System 6?).
2. I find a copy of the OS and get it running either on old hardware (which I also find) or virtualized.
3. I find a compatible floppy drive.
4. I find a compatible copy of the word processor (WriteNow).
5. The disks have dramatically exceeded their estimated 2-year lifespan.

In contrast, consider my University essays, all of which I can still open and read. This is possible because I have been transferring the files from computer to computer over the past 12 years. There is an unbroken chain of digital pack-ratting from the MacBook I’m using now to the Pentium 166 I built in 1997.

The loss of my essays (grades 10-12) are not a big loss to society. But it serves to illustrate a problem that plagues archivists. Digital content is very easy to copy in the short term but degrades very quickly in the medium and long term. To keep digital content alive, you have to keep it moving. Kevin Kelly calls this Movage.

Anything you want moved to the future has to be given attention to keep it moving forward.

In order to preserve content against the decay of laughably short-lived media and compatibilty, archivists need to make copies – early and often. We’re not used to thinking of it that way. We’re used to thinking of preservation as a kind of stasis. We think of climate controlled rooms and white gloves and sealed vaults.

In digital, stasis is death. Stasis is the BBC’s endangered Domesday Project, trapped on laserdiscs, needing hardware that had nearly disappeared in 2002 (interestingly, they knew this was coming but the archivists failed to keep the data alive).

It is bad enough for librarians, what with the fires, earthquakes, moisture, theft, time, and other disasters eating away at the content they seek to preserve. Copyright holders have made it all the worse, by preventing the one thing going for digital – easy, short-term, perfect copies – from happening in a legal setting.

DRM schemes make it illegal for archivists to do their jobs.

Dan Barber’s story (embedded above) is one of my favourite kinds of stories. He begins with something that seems unethical, tells the story of an unlikely maverick who challenges the status quo and wins (a contest). All the while, it turns out that our maverick’s approach involves some down home ingenuity and hands on sustainability. In the end, it turns out that we get to have our cake and eat it to. There is a method for producing foie gras ethically that’s also sustainable (AND DELICIOUS). (If only we didn’t have those evil unsustainable, unethical factory farms that gave us slightly inferior foie gras (and strawberries and mangoes and whatever) year-round.)

At about 8:15 in, Barber unwittingly raises the first issue that will cause massive problems for this kind of farming. He approvingly mentions that the farmer is taking a loss on feeding these geese figs and olives. “The doubly irony is that on the figs and olives, Eduardo could make more money selling those than he can on the foie gras.”

At which point the economist in me asks, “then why does he bother with the foie gras?”

Eduardo is an artisan farmer, he doesn’t need to be profit maximizing, just profitable. So if he wants to take some extra time and effort, he’s welcome to destroy value in the goods he produces as a kind of hobbyist craftsman. That’s fine for him, but does it work on a world-wide scale?

The reason that Eduardo could make more on the figs and olives than he does on the foie gras is that someone has figured out how to make the delicacy more cheaply. It’s far from ethical – it requires factory farming and force feeding – but when it comes to foie gras, people don’t seem to care.

The pricing of foie gras really doesn’t matter to most people, but the same story plays out over and over again in the world of farming. Factory farms produce food more cheaply, with less labour and at a higher density than most organic farms. They also produce the food people want year-round instead of seasonally. They do it at massive environmental and ethical cost, but until there is a price on these things, it is unlikely that entreating people to only eat what is in season will see a shift in the way food is produced.

There’s two ways this story can get better. Either factory food becomes more expensive or sustainable food becomes cheaper.

Eliminating the massive subsidies paid to factory farmers would be a big step in doing both at once. If oil continues to climb, factory farm prices will tend to rise (a lot of oil goes into the machinery and pesticides used on larger farms) making less oil-dependent farming more viable.

The labour issue is a bigger one, which must be solved either by automating organic farming practices, killing western subsidies which will make farming profitable for developing countries (they have a surplus of labour, but ultra cheap grain and dairy from subsidized OECD farmers often forces them out of business), or convincing more OECD citizens to go back to the land.

The last question, to which I don’t know the answer, is: Will organic farming produce enough food to feed everyone? The technologies that underlie the Green Revolution allowed the human population to triple in less than 70 years with very few major famines. Advocates of alternative farming need to account for whether their methods will sustain the human population (or who should die).

They do their lobbying from comfortable office suites in Washington or Brussels. If they lived just one month amid the misery of the developing world, as I have for fifty years, they’d be crying out for tractors and fertilizer and irrigation canals and be outraged that fashionable elitists back home were trying to deny them these things.

–Norman Borlaug

How is this possible?

The explanation that stuck with me came from Mark Pinsky, president and CEO of of the Opportunity Finance Network. “We have to be profitable, just not profit-maximizing.”

What sets the “good” subprime lenders apart is that they never bought into all the perverse incentives and “innovations” of the bad subprime lending system—the fees paid to mortgage brokers, the fancy offices, and the reliance on securitization. Like a bunch of present-day George Baileys, ethical subprime lenders evaluate applications carefully, don’t pay brokers big fees to rope customers into high-interest loans, and mostly hold onto the loans they make rather than reselling them. They focus less on quantity than on quality.

And in a world where Neil Cavuto is saying that “loaning to minorities and risky folks is a disaster,” minorities with tiny savings accounts are being served and are paying back their debts. The profits for these companies weren’t as high as they were for the big lenders (one CEO earns a “mere” $190,000/yr), but on the other hand, they are still running.

Compare this to the story that Nassim Nicholas Taleb tells about the wider financial markets (skip to 4:20). “We don’t have slack, it’s over-optimized.”

I keep thinking about the impending extinction of the Cavendish Banana a worldwide mono-culture that was propelled to the #1 spot when the previous favourite, the Gros Michel Banana was wiped out, also by disease. And of the injuries (careful about clicking that link) sustained by Super-G skiers when their highly optimized gear turns against them during a crash. And of Koalas which have evolved to eat a tree no one else eats and who will die off when the trees do.

Then I think about apples which come in a variety of types, casual skiers who make it to the bottom of the hill eventually and raccoons who will eat just about anything. These are all generalists that manage to thrive in a variety of areas, and seem to be pretty good at adapting to massive changes to their environments.

We’re in the midst of the 6th mass extinction in earth’s history and it’s the specialists, with their highly optimized, fragile ecological niches that are going to go first. Cockroaches will still be here when it’s all over, I imagine.

The rule is clear. When things are stable, specialization and optimization is the recipe for success. When things are bumpy, allowing some of the inefficiency that comes from flexibility is probably the thing that will let you survive.

The mistake of the latest market crash seems to be that all the incentives and all the players were aligned to act as if the boom in housing prices was a stable situation that would last and last. You’d think that by now, the financial markets would have learned their lesson.

photo credit: vgm8383

In 1990, Neil Postman gave a talk at a meeting of the German Informatics Society called Informing Ourselves to Death.

The speech has been held up as an important counterpoint to the general technological gee-whizzardry of publications like Wired. I bring it up now, because 18 years after the speech was given, we have some hindsight.

It’s worth remembering what was happening in 1990. Computers were on the rise, but there wasn’t much of an Internet to speak of. The first version of the World Wide Web would not go public until 1991. Windows 3.0 had just been released in May. Apple was on System 6.0.5 for the Mac. Laptops and desktops looked like this.

It is in this context that Postman says:

In the case of computer technology, there can be no disputing that the computer has increased the power of large-scale organizations like military establishments or airline companies or banks or tax collecting agencies. And it is equally clear that the computer is now indispensable to high-level researchers in physics and other natural sciences. But to what extent has computer technology been an advantage to the masses of people? To steel workers, vegetable store owners, teachers, automobile mechanics, musicians, bakers, brick layers, dentists and most of the rest into whose lives the computer now intrudes?

And why are computers failing to offer advantages to regular people? There is so much information that regular people no longer find the world comprehensible. This, says Postman, began in medieval times.

There was a time when information was a resource that helped human beings to solve specific and urgent problems of their environment. It is true enough that in the Middle Ages, there was a scarcity of information but its very scarcity made it both important and usable. This began to change, as everyone knows, in the late 15th century when a goldsmith named Gutenberg, from Mainz, converted an old wine press into a printing machine, and in so doing, created what we now call an information explosion … The printing press began that age, and we have not been free of it since.

But what started out as a liberating stream has turned into a deluge of chaos. … Everything from telegraphy and photography in the 19th century to the silicon chip in the twentieth has amplified the din of information, until matters have reached such proportions today that for the average person, information no longer has any relation to the solution of problems.

Whether you accept his understanding of medieval history, there is merit in his concern that there can be too much information. That is to say: too much information all at once.

Consider the failure of US intelligence to predict the September 11th. When it was over and they were sifting through the material, all the information that they needed to figure out what was happening was available. It was hidden in plain sight by being part of an insanely enormous field of data. The issue was not a lack of information, it was a lack of the right kind of organization and perspective.

The term that geek workers use for this is “the firehose”.

Postman recalls fondly the time before the information age, when people were blessed with certainty.

There existed an ordered, comprehensible world-view, beginning with the idea that all knowledge and goodness come from God. What the priests had to say about the world was derived from the logic of their theology. There was nothing arbitrary about the things people were asked to believe, including the fact that the world itself was created at 9 AM on October 23 in the year 4004 B.C.

Pay special attention to this next bit:

The medieval world was, to be sure, mysterious and filled with wonder, but it was not without a sense of order. Ordinary men and women might not clearly grasp how the harsh realities of their lives fit into the grand and benevolent design, but they had no doubt that there was such a design, and their priests were well able, by deduction from a handful of principles, to make it, if not rational, at least coherent.

The argument here is that if the information available in the middle ages was wrong, at least there wasn’t too much of it. With no conception of a way that we could better organize information and the fear that computers will be hard for regular people to use and you can see his concern. It’s at this point that his talk falls flat on its face.

Certainty is NOT a good if you are WRONG.

Postman should have been calling on the people making computers to make them better at processing, sorting and handling information. In a world with an abundance of information the solution is not wishing there was less, it’s in wishing that there were better ways to organize it.

Postman seems to miss this entirely.

Luckily, others did not. Instead of a firehouse, we have Digg, Yahoo! and Google. Instead of ivory towers of data for the few, we have Wikipedia and Gapminder. Instead of top down news organs, we have Ushahidi and IMC. As time went on the trend moved towards more powerful and more accessible tools for dealing with the deluge.

The critical lesson here is that in 1990, most people still didn’t have a faint fucking clue about what computers would mean in a mere 10 years. The consequences of Moore’s Law (coined in 1970) were not being taken on board. This is Postman’s biggest failure, the failure of imagination to understand what it could mean to common people that computers would double in power every 2 years, effectively driving the price of processing power down to free ($100 Laptop!).

I have a printing press in my bedroom (when I had a bedroom)! I have a AV broadcast station on my lap. I can MAKE MOVIES with about $3000 worth of equipment (and next year it’ll be cheaper). I can do my own accounting and I have screen savers, SCREEN SAVERS, that process vast amounts of data in an effort to fold proteins!

The saddest thing about Postman is that he approaches the whole question of human history as an endless conflict between winners and losers as a result of each technological change. It’s as if I showed him an automatic drilling machine and he complained that all the people who used to dig mines were losers because they were out of a job, instead of winners because they no longer had to GO DOWN INTO A MINE.

I would MUCH rather be middle class in modern times (or even lower class) than ruling class in the 1400s and I say this knowing that on my Grandmother’s side of the family, there’s a castle somewhere. I am literally wealthier than the wealthiest medieval king across almost every measurement of wealth that you can think of. I will live longer, I can travel further, I can remember more, I eat better food (and have access to more of it), my house is more comfortable, and I have access to equipment and abilities far beyond his wildest dreams.

When Postman tells the story of the Benedictine monks and their devotional clocks, he anticipates his own failure of imagination. The point of his story is that with technological changes come unintended consequences. And there he is in 1990, looking at computers, seeing only benefits for large institutions, projecting forwards only benefits for large institutions, missing the possibility of unexpected changes for everyone else.

I’m glad he was wrong.

Michale Pollan tells stories about nature so that we can begin to FEEL the reality of science, rather than just “know”. It’s been 150 years since Darwin, he says, and we are still all Cartesians. “We still think it’s human vs nature.”

The most important point in the talk: We are just as sophisticated as rice, because WE HAVE BEEN EVOLVING FOR THE SAME LENGTH OF TIME (rice actually hare more genes than humans).