Exploring Interdisciplinarity

I have been thinking about interstices a lot these days–that is, ever since one of the Chinese students in my Networks and International Development Class protested that, given institutional lock-in, reforms could never come about in China. I gently begged to disagree. As I told her, and as we had discussed in class, in a networked society, small changes in any one part of the system can have major ramifications throughout. As important, by focusing on these small changes in the interstices of a social order, reformers could remain under the radar, and thereby circumvent the powers that be. The key for those of us who want to bring about change today is to identify the most promising interstices.

The key for those of us who want to bring about change today is to identify the most promising interstices.

Somewhat skeptical, the student persisted, asking for examples. So I provided an account of how the rise of cities in the Middle Ages helped to undermine the European feudal order (Braudel 1992).

It so happened that I was well prepared for the task, having listened only a few days before to a lecture on tape by Professor Teofilo F. Ruiz, in the series Medieval Europe: Crisis and Renewal, which was sponsored by The Teaching Company. As the lecturer had pointed out, although late Medieval cities originally emerged as an off-shoot of feudal land holders, they eventually took on a new, and transformative, life of their own.

In fact, with the rise of commerce and the city merchants that promoted it, Europe was never the same. This new merchant society, which was based on the accumulation of wealth and industrial performance, gave rise to a new class–the bourgeoise–as well as new institutions –such as the guilds– that sought not only to restrict the powers of the nobility but also to extend the social order outside of the parameters of the feudal world itself.

Where are the critical interstices in our global society today? Recent events in Iran provide a clue. Just as, during the Middle Ages, cities went relatively unnoticed as they developed the commercial resources that allowed them to overturn the prevailing social order, so today Iranian hackers have managed to develop the kinds of net-savvy skills required to create a protest movement in an interstitial, virtual space, making it possible for them to outwit a very powerful and seemingly entrenched regime. As described by Murad Ahmed, writing in The Times Online, June 18, 2009:

It has come as a surprise to many, not least to Iran’s regime, just how effectively the country’s young population has been able to articulate and organize [an] opposition protest on the web. New technologies have turned yesterday’s flashmob into today’s political rally. With elements of the Iranian mobile phone system disabled, the internet has become the organizing medium for the opposition and Facebook and Twitter the tools of choice to communicate and organize dissent.

Further contemplating the notion of interstices, I see a new link between some of the ideas that we discuss in my Networks and International Development class and those that we focus on in my class on The Networked Economy. In the latter, we read Ron Burt, and discuss the resources gained by an organization when it develops structural autonomy by bridging structural holes (that is, the gaps in social structure). With the recent events in Iran in mind, it seems that Burt’s notion of structural autonomy is also apropos for describing that situation. For it would appear that the interstices that I speak of in my development class are non other than Burt’s structural holes where– with a little bit of strategic networking–formidable resources and power can be cultivated.

On Technorati: Add new tag, institutional lock-in, international development, interstitial spaces, Iran, Iranian hackers, Middle Ages, Murad Ahmed, networks and international development, Ron Burt, structural autonomy, structural holes, the Teaching Company

Let’s just say I am standing in for my mistress, whose life over the last several weeks has become a little topsy turvy. But please forgive me if this post is not up to snuff: I have never blogged before. It’s not that I am unaccustomed to reflection–to the contrary! But while my mistress reflects, typing away, sitting in her comfy chair, her computer ensconced in her lap, I am comfortably situated on the couch, amidst the pillows, my paws resting over the edge, looking out the window, watching, watching, watching. So what you get here is the perspective of a dog. How is that for interdisciplinarity? 

The truth is that our family has experienced a punctuated disequilibrium. As well, depending on the outcome, one might say a phase transition. At least as I see it–perhaps somewhat narcissistically–everything about my life has been disrupted. Much will have to change.

The truth is we have experienced punctuated disequilibrium. As well, depending on the outcome, one might say a phase transition. 

Shall I tell you what happened? Well, as in the case of all punctuated disequilibria, life in my house had been proceeding nicely, notwithstanding, of course, its occasional ups and downs. Quite contented with our daily routine, we took it somewhat for granted, assuming normalcy would continue apace. Then came the big surprise when, on that fateful day several weeks ago, my master pivoted on his–shall we say–more than adequately-sized feet and landed on his shoulder, breaking his bones and shredding the tissues surrounding them. Hearing him scream, I raced over to where he lay on the floor. l licked his face, hoping to sooth his soul–but to no avail. He turned away. Minutes later, men, arriving in a white truck, absconded with him to whereabouts unbeknownst to me. It was more than 10 long days before he returned, and, when he did, he was unrecognizable, to say the least.

Of course, I couldn’t have been happier to have him home; that said, however, there were a number of adjustments that have had to be made, many at my expense. The first thing to go was the couch, my own special perch, where I typically sit and watch the world go by. Suddenly my master, not being able to go up and down the stairs, took over my roost. To make matters worse, there was the issue of my toys. In the past, I could chew them, shake them, and fling them wherever I was inclined. Everyone clapped and laughed. Now my toys are considered a hazard; the minute I leave them somewhere, they are picked up and herded over to a corner of the room. My daily walks have also suffered; because my mistress is preoccupied in the morning, bathing and dressing my master, our outings have gotten shorter and shorter, even as the weather has improved.

Reflecting on my unfortunate situation, I am reminded of the Spanish saying about the vicissitudes of life, La palma sube, y il coco baja (The palm tree rises, and the coconuts fall). However, I find this saying less than satisfying under the circumstances. So, determined to get to the bottom of all these mysteries, I put my head on my Mistress’s lap; looked at her with my big sad eyes; and implored her to provide a more adequate and analytic interpretation of what was going on. “Ah, Sparky,” she said knowingly (after all, she is the Director of the CCT Program). “Take heart”, she said, as she scratched behind my ears. “No doubt, our equilibrium status has been seriously overturned. But, we are reorganizing to adapt successfully to this phase transition and the new fitness landscape accompanying it. Just think of the benefits of a more simplified household, especially in this increasingly complex world. Even better, look at your Master and witness how well, in the face of a disaster, he has reorganized himself!”

On Technorati: Brock Evans, fitness landscape, man's best friend, phase transition, punctuated disequilibrium, recovery, Sparky

If you’re like me, you often leave a discussion, or conference, getting your best ideas after the fact. Having mulled the conversation over, again and again, you wake up in the middle of the night with the most inspired thought, but instead of feeling satisfied, you berate yourself for having missed an opportunity to make a great point.

If you’re like me, you get your best ideas after the fact. 

Last night, I did just that, but instead of feeling poorly about it, I realized–perhaps for the first time–that my idea had been latent. As such, it could not have been used to provide an input into the discussion; rather it was a direct output of the discussion with my colleagues, as well as of the nocturnal dialogue that took place inside my brain.

The occasion for this insight was a conference on Standards Education, sponsored by the National Institute for Standards and Technology (NIST). The aim of the conference was to encourage universities to incorporate a standards curriculum within their course offerings. The focus, for the most part, was on engineering and business schools. My panel, the last of the day, was designed to be a little provocative–that is, to think about standards education in the context of a dynamic future, in which educational institutions are themselves in flux, the boundaries of their ivory towers crumbling in the face of an increasingly complex environment. By all accounts, we were successful, thanks to the inputs of our four panelists Michael Spring, Mark McCarthy, Peter Lord, and Laura DeNardis.

The discussion with some of my colleagues continued on the drive home, but when I reached my door I was ready to put it aside, and just relax. And so I did, taking my dog for a walk; having a glass of wine and eating a pizza with my husband; and–before falling asleep–reading a chapter of an excellent biography of Schumpeter, Prophet of Innovation, by Thomas K. McCraw. However, after a few hours, I woke up with a start, as well as an idea about why engineering schools have so few courses dedicated to standard setting. It must be that when the body is in a dream-like state, the neurons in the brain are free to fire, and to roam every which-way, generating new and interesting ideas as they create new paths and explore unknown territories.

I woke up with a start, with an idea about why engineering schools have so few course dedicated to standard setting 

In retrospect, I suspect that my brain was reaching back into my memory to a book I had read and admired a long time ago, entitled Machine-Age Ideology: Social Engineering and American Liberalism, 1911-1939. Written by John M. Jordan, the book tells the story of the American engineer, and how–during the first part of the 20th century–he became a hero in American life, celebrated in movies, novels, and popular culture. This hero-worship reached its apogee with Herbert Hoover’s election to the presidency.

According to Jordan, what made engineers so respected, as well as unique, was their disregard or–better still–disdain for politics, a perspective increasingly shared by the American public during this period. This was the thought that struck me in the middle of the night: it is this engineering mentality, this desire to circumvent values and politics, that accounts for engineering schools’ lack of enthusiasm for incorporating standardization in their curricula. For, anyone who has studied US standards setting–as I have–will attest to the highly contentious and politicized nature of this process.

I often get ideas when I awake in the middle of the night. Some are less noteworthy than others. But this one, I believe, stands up in the light of day!

On Technorati: C. P. Snow, economic benefit of standards, engineering, John Jordan, Laura DeNardis, Machine Age Ideology, Mark McCarthy, Michael Spring, NIST, Peter Lord, public interest in standards, standard setting, standards education, two cultures

For their last blog in my Network Economy Class, I asked the students to pretend that they were grandparents who–having lived to a ripe old age–had witnessed everything from the depression era to the present. Imagine, I said, that your grandchild, age 20, comes to you asking for advice about how to best prepare for the future. Having done all the readings for the network economy class, and having participated intensely in all of the discussions, what might you advise? Here are some excerpts from the students’ blogs.

Here are some excerpts from what students’ blogs.

According to Corinna Wu,

always prepare an alternative/alternatives for your goal, either for the sake of a fall back plan, or just for insurance, because nothing is certain, even if you are on top of your game. Be humble, and listen to all outlets, do not close any doors.

Jimalyn Yao might agree. Sitting around the kitchen table with her grandchild–a familiar occurrence in her household–she would emphasize that our deep involvement in our environment does not necessarily imply that we have a deep individual affect on it. Citing Beinhocker, she says:

economics truly is an evolutionary process, and by that same token, it rides the tide of collective change, and not specific ones.

Sherri Berman assumes that by the time she reaches 90 or so, she will be nostalgic for the good old days when life was simple. She would tell her grandchild: 1) Be multifaceted; 2) Be flexible; 3) Do NOT live in a vacuum!

Christina Politi wants her grandchild to think big and to move forward notwithstanding the vicissitudes of changing times and complexity.

Emily Zwelzer would serve her wisdom up with tea and crumpets, saying:

Think of the fitness landscape as the yellow brick road in mythical Oz, adapting to the bumps, and terrain of this path will allow you to survive in uncertainty. The road will undergo phase transitions, sometime perilous (as in time of economic crisis, war, or crisis) but as long as you change along with it you will not be left behind.

Mark Wenger would employ the phrase, Whatever will be, will be. As he says:

This phrase accomplishes two very helpful things: 1) identifies that the larger fitness landscape is beyond your individual control .. and 2) that you do the best given the circumstances you are in. . . its straight out of Beinhocker’s evolutionary economics.

Matthew Tyrrell’s advice is to be true to oneself. As he says:

Find strength in your imagination; it’s what makes you special. Look for the good in people. Put value in relationships. Listen to those who disagree with you. Find what you stand for and stand in it; be the structural hole. The world changes at a constant rate but we need energy (in the form of love, heat and food) that will remain the same.

Jake Landis would caution his grandchildren against a belief in equilibrium, noting that:

Equilibrium is true for baseball players hitting above average, and umbrella sales when its raining, but the human element is unpredictable. Evolution is about surviving challenges and adapting, not returning to the center.

What about reading Erik Beinhocker? Will his book, The Creation of Wealth be out of date? Not according to Rebecca Jacob who drew upon a case, which occurred decades ago–the Soviet Union 5-year manufacturing plan that produced shoes no one wanted. She advised:

Prepare for uncertainty and risk. This might seem counterintuitive, [as] a step by step plan for the future may appear the better thing to do. But what if the future doesn’t fit the plan, as is so often the case?

In her blog, Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst, and Expect the Unexpected, Lauren Alfry cited her own grandfather’s advice. He was a taciturn man, so when he spoke it had all the more impact. As he advised Lauren:

Success is where preparation and opportunity meet!

Many students have been affected by the recent economic crisis, and what it bodes for the future. According to one, achieving success in the future will require challenging conventional views, especially the advice and analysis of pundits, equity analysts, and popular economists. Juliette Arnaud, who brings a French skepticism to her writings, might agree. As she urged:

Evolution does not always mean progress. Embrace it! As [her] great grand-father used to say: life is unfair.

NEED I SAY MORE? Imagine how my students might affect the fitness landscape.

On Technorati: Add new tag, advising the young, blogging, complexity, disequilibrium, Erik Beinhocker, networked economy, realizing the future, uncertainty

Last Thursday night, I taught my last class for the semester on The Network Economy. One of my favorite courses, it strives to explain, as well as transcend, some of the anomalies of neoclassical economics, by considering what other theoretical/disciplinary perspectives might have to say about the economy. I ask the students not necessarily to buy into the theories, but rather to try each of them on for size, to see if they fit the situation at hand, and add new insights to their understanding of the complex array of events taking place about them.

So, over the course of the semester, we take a tour, and work our way through the territory of behavioral economics, socioeconomics, Schumpter’s reasoned history, innovation theory, transaction cost economics, networking, complexity theory, as well as evolutionary economics.  We bring all of these theories together in our last class, when we read the final section of Eric Beinhocker’s The Creation of Wealth. As my students and I discussed, this book is not only an introduction to complexity economics, it is–-at one and the same time–-a good guide for living in the modern world.

. . . this book is not only an introduction to complexity economics, it is–at one and the same time–a good guide for living in the modern world.

Although, in his book, Beinhocker aims to characterize complexity, and it relevance for the world today, his message is decidedly simple and straightforward: Do not put all your eggs in one basket! Experiment instead, he says.

Accordingly, businesses should avoid committing themselves to one big strategic plan, based on a linear projection of how the future may unfold. To the contrary, business must embrace uncertainty, spreading their resources across a variety a strategies, which are flexible enough so that, if necessary, they can be easily scraped  or readily adapted to meet the demands of changing contingencies. Likewise, individuals must prepare themselves for an uncertain future by appropriating a wide variety of talents and skills and investing in a process of life long learning. In the same fashion, government policy makers must work at one and the same time on a variety of fronts, developing strategies that can be employed under a number of diverse circumstances. As importantly, in each of these situations, these experimental approaches must be structured so as to provide constant feedback and learning, which can then be incorporated into future strategies.

While teaching my Thursday might class, I was suddenly struck by the realization of how well the Communication Culture and Technology Program adheres to Beinhocker’s guiding principles.  For example, our course offerings are modular components, which together comprise one of seven potential clusters of interests.  Students draw upon these course offering to develop a curriculum that is uniquely suited to their needs.  Like complexity, the process is non-linear. Students rarely end up in the place, or mind set, where they started.  One might even say that their interests co-evolve together with the course material, insofar as they learn what they like as they go, and mix and match courses to build out a unique curriculum of their own. Equally important–at least from my point of view–they learn to draw on a wide range of disciplines with the greatest of ease.

I am always saddened when a class come to an end. In the Network Economy Class, we were just getting to know one another. Fortunately, there is another semester, and another year. I look forward to seeing you all at CCT, whether as a student, an alumni, or just out of curiosity.

On Technorati: addressing uncertainty, business strategies, Communication, complexity, Culture and Technology Program, Erik Beinhocker, life long learning, The Networked Economy

In some circumstances, it really behooves one to have a safety net! That’s why when children take their initial steps, and teenagers first get behind the wheel, mothers and fathers are close at hand. A ritualistic dance ensues–as children develop their skills and talents, parents step back, making room for them to grow. The trick is establishing the right distance, appropriate for the circumstances at hand. 

Even as adults we benefit from safety nets, although they are far more transparent, receding into the background until a need for them arises. For example, I vividly recall a time a few summers ago, when my husband Brock and I came to appreciate the value of a safety net, while vacationing at our home at Hawthorne Lake.

As is our habit, Brock got up early to make coffee, which we planned to drink in bed, while watching the sun come up. Eager to watch the dawn break, he went down to the dock while waiting for the water to boil. Unfortunately he fell asleep. When he awoke the kitchen wall was in flames. Smelling the smoke, I ran downstairs, almost colliding with my husband who was racing up from the dock. Somehow we managed to call the fire deparment all the while throwing buckets of water at the fire. Driving ten miles up the mountain road–the last leg of which is dirt–the firemen finally arrived. They were there just in time to tell us that we had successfully put out the fire.

We were panicked nonetheless. How were we to inform my son Stephen–one of the fifth generation to grow up at the lake–that we had destroyed his patrimony? How were we had to restore the kitchen, much less Crossepatch, our smoke filled house, to it’s historic charm? Although it seemed a hopeless cause, we jumped into the car and raced to town, where we purchased every cleaning apparatus, and cleaning solution, in sight. Scrubbing away over the next few hours, our efforts seemed hopeless. However, not much later, my sister Anne came along, and–sympathetic to our plight, but surprised by our endeavors–reminded us our house was safe: As she pointed out, we had a safety net–our insurance company.

Safety nets are not always institutionalized. Nor do they necessarily require financial investments. Even though we are less cognizant of them, many safety nets inhere in the social structure in which we are embedded. This fact was brought home to me ten day’s ago after my husband’s fall. Within a few hours of the event, the phone began to ring. Neighbors and friends alike emerged from out of nowhere, looking for ways to help. Most touching to me was the call from Rachael, my husband’s ex-wife, who–reassuring me that “she was there for me–” invited me over to share her delicious, Seder left-overs.

Some say that the safety nets that emerge from social interactions are no different from formal institutions–such as insurance companies–in which we consciously invest in order to hedge our bets about the future. Thus, for example, rational actor theorists such as Nan Lin insist that individuals weigh the costs and benefits of investing their time and energy in establishing connections in the hopes of capturing future returns in the form of greater resources. I beg to disagree. Just as Mark Buchanan has argued in his book The Social Atom: Why the Rich Get Richer, Cheaters Get Caught, and Your Neighbors Usually Look Like You, humans motivations are far more complex than rational actor theorists might surmise. As Buchanan emphasizes, we are essentially social atoms whose behavior is guided as much by our evolutionary instincts and emotional needs as it is by rational choice.

And thank goodness! Circumstances call for a variety of actions, and a variety of responses. When our formal institutions fail us, we have our social relations to fall back on–just as in the hard times of today, when family and friends are turning inwards to support one another. If scholars such as Robert Putam are correct, these informal groups might generate greater social capital in the course of their interactions, which can be employed, in turn, to help reshape and rebuild much sturdier formal institutions for future generations.

On Technorati: Add new tag, child rearing, evolution, Lake Hawthorne, Mark Buchanan, Molly Moran CCT alum, Nan Lin, rational actor theory, social captial, the social atom

This is not the blog that I had intended to write. Most ironically, I had planned to write a blog about the safety net (see my next post), and about how our social relations function as a safety net, allowing us to experiment–to take steps in the dark–and thereby reach new levels of achievement and understanding. Sometimes, however, the lack of a safety net can perform a similar function. Sometimes, wisdom can be gained from a fall.

Sometimes, however, the lack of a safety net can perform a similar function. Sometimes wisdom can be gained from a fall. 

Friday morning was promising. The rainy weather was changing for the better. At breakfast, my husband, Brock, read an article to me from the Smithsonian Magazine written by Roy Rowan, and entitled Do Not Go Gently (April 2009: 104). The article was a reminder that our sunset years will only be golden years to the extent that we actively live them, substituting the wisdom of our experiences for the vigor of our youth. Inspired, we set out, ready to conquer the day.

What happened next, according to the doctor, was a perfect storm; events converged to bring about a crash. All revved up, my husband rose from his chair, pivoted on his (some might say) sizable feet, and, caught up in the momentum, kept turning until he landed on the floor–his shoulder (the one most damaged by the multiple myeloma) taking the brunt of the fall. Letting out a scream of pain, like no other scream I have ever heard, he crawled to a chair in which he buried his head. What to do? With him wearing nothing but a bathrobe, the real challenge was getting him dressed, all the while he was writhing and screaming. Up went the jeans, inch by inch, over his bended knees, around his buttock, finally coming together at his waist. Unable to move his large-size frame, I called am ambulance, which took him to the ER at Sibley Memorial Hospital.

Amidst all this chaos, Brock–finding a measure of humor in this ridiculous, albeit horrendous, situation, blurted out: well, at least this will make good dinner party conversation.

Amidst all of this chaos, Brock–finding a measure of humor in this ridiculous, albeit horrendous, situation, blurted out: well, at least this will make good dinner party conversation! Taken back for a moment, I thought: much as Rowan had advised in his article, we were making the most of life’s adventures, be they what they may.

Sibley turned out to be a good choice.  The first orthopedist we encountered was Dr. Benjamin Shaffer, who by luck was performing surgery at Sibley. He stopped by for a consultation, and advised us that Brock needed immediate attention. Brock’s fall had not only splintered a number of bones in his shoulder, some of which had torn the soft tissues, he had also dislocated his shoulder. There was no time to waste, he said. The primary physician for the Capitals, who were playing a major game that night, Dr. Schaffer could not do the surgery himself. So he turned us over to his equally capable partner Dr. Jonas Rudski, who, late in the evening, performed Brock’s operation, and was stellar in every possible way.

It will be a long climb back–perhaps six to eight weeks. What have we gained? Appreciation!. After all, we are still alive, and we are still together. As well, we are planning to make the most of it.

On Technorati: Brock Evans, facing a challenge, making the most of life, rising to the occasion, staying in the ring

Tomorrow, the Communication Culture and Technology Program at Georgetown University will join together with the Quello Center for Telecommunication Management and Law, Michigan State University, and the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation and University of Konstanz, Germany,
in hosting a conference on Applying Complexity Theory to Improve Communications Policy. The conference is based on the premise that the field of communication constitutes a complex adaptive system, such that we need new regulatory approaches and tools that can take this complexity into account. We plan to cover four topic areas: 1) the value added of complexity theory; 2) tools and methodology for using complexity theory; 3) applying complexity theory to national broadband policy; and 4) building support for, and incorporating, complexity theory into communications policy.

I have been thinking about how one might structure the policy environment so as to foster greater interaction of policy actors and their diverse approaches and ideas

Having been assigned the task of facilitating the final panel, I have been pondering structural approaches to promoting complexity analysis–in particular, I have been thinking about how one might structure the policy environment so as to foster greater interaction of policy actors and their diverse approaches and ideas. My assumption is that to analyze complexity adequately, the policy structure must, itself, reflect it.  Some thoughts come to mind in this regard. 

For example, building on Ron Burt’s characterization of good ideas, it would appear that policy organizations should be structured in such a way that policy actors benefit not only from strong ties among like-minded associates, but also from weak ties across diverse associations. As Burt notes:

Opinion and behavior are more homogeneous within than between groups so people connected across groups are more familiar with alternative ways of thinking and behaving, which give them more options to select and synthesize from alternatives (http://faculty.chicagobooth.edu/ronald.burt/research/SHGI.pdf)

One might conclude, therefore, that–for complexity to be attended to–the  architecture of the policy making arena must provide links across diverse policy domains. 

This conclusion coincides with the conclusions of a paper that my colleagues Ellen Surles, Qi Chen and I wrote for the Social Science Research Council, entitled Fostering a Communication Policy Dialogue: The Need for a Sustainable Communication Interface. In this paper, we adopted  John Kingdon’s description of policy making as a non-linear process, which entails the convergence of three different streams–identifying problems, identifying solutions, and making political decisions. Kingdon argues that when these streams converge there is a window of opportunity when policy outcomes can occur. In our paper, my colleagues and I sought to identify the structural properties that would allow such convergence to take place. Viewing these three policy streams as distinct worlds, each with its own habitus, we identified the need for a policy interface, that would help policy actors to communicate with one another. As we argued:

The policy debate can become inhibited and muted in part because many players lack the resources and skills to communicate across these fields of policy activities. It is especially helpful when a number of diverse actors interact and engage with one another to the extent that they create a space where they can find common ground. We call this space the policy interface. Issues rise on the policy agenda when [policy streams] converge in such a way that ideas are translated and actors come to value each other’s perspectives and therefore perceive policy issues in a congruent way.

Much as in the case of Burt’s notion of good ideas, the architecture of the interface that we described provides for both weak and strong ties.  It allowed policy actors from different activity fields to maintain their individual perspectives, while coming together in a common space where they might have a productive–and far richer–dialogue. 

The US communication policy arena lacks such an interface, and policy making suffers as a result.  Jurisdiction is divided among numerous agencies, whose independent actions often lead to conflicting outcomes.  Issues are not considered to be complex; rather they are typically reduced to approximate the specific mission of the agency in which they are resolved.  

The outstanding question, therefore, is where might we look for such a policy interface?  Not surprisingly, given my own background, I would look to a government agency such as the Office of Technology Assessment, which not only brought diverse actors together, and incorporated their perspectives in the agency’s research results. As importantly, OTA translated complex problems into narratives that both Congress and the public could grapple with.

On Technorati: broadband policy, communications policy, complexity, good ideas, John Kingdon, Office of Technology Assessment, policy interface, policy streams, Ron Burt, telecommunications

When Max Weber portrayed bureaucracies, he characterized them as iron cages (Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology. University of California Press, 1978: 1403). This metaphor reflected his belief that, because bureaucracies were so efficient, all organizations would have to conform to them, if they were to survive in a competitive, capitalist environment. Organizations would become isomorphic as a result. And so they did!

Thinking about this argument in today’s terms, we might view Weber as an early complexity theorist, based on his claim that changes in the socioeconomic environment, or as we might say now–(the fitness landscape)–require appropriate adaptations in organizational behavior.  On the other hand, the very notion of an iron cage, secured by rule-based self reinforcing feedback, suggests that bureaucracies are especially prone to lock in.  One must wonder, then, how present day bureaucracies will successfully adapt to the changing nature of capitalism and the complexity and uncertainties it entails.

One must wonder, then, how present day bureaucracies will successfully adapt to the changing nature of capitalism and all the complexity and uncertainties it entails.

Dealing with complexity requires continuous feedback from, and adaptation to, an uncertain and rapidly changing environment. For this reason, Beinhocker, in his book The Origin of Wealth suggests that the best way for organizations to cope with complexity is to incorporate it within. However, this is a daunting task. Bureaucracies tend to be relatively closed systems, in which behavior is reinforced through daily reenactment. For this reason, many businesses employ monitoring systems and change mechanisms, such as benchmarking, large scale interventions, and the use of outside consultants. 

But what about universities, a type of organization that–as one might imagine–is very close to my heart? Universities exemplify many features associated with bureaucracies: roles are highly differentiated; rules are rigidly reenacted; boundaries are well defended, and politics prevail. As a result, change is incremental, at best.

Universities exemplify many features associated with bureaucracies: roles are highly differentiated; rules are rigidly reenacted; boundaries are well defended, and politics prevail.

In their book, The Social Life of Information, Paul Duguid and John Seely Brown warn against assuming that resistance to organizational change is evidence of Luddite behavior. Doing so, according to the authors, will lead to unintended, and undesirable, consequences. They suggest, instead, to look at the substance of resistance for clues about how to build upon the existing organizational context to better design a plan for change.

How might this insight pertain to universities? Let’s consider disciplines. Perhaps nothing is more entrenched in the university setting than academic disciplines. Functioning much like communities of practice, academic disciplines provide a shared sociocultural environment (habitus to use Bordieu’s terminology) that serves to govern and maintain a set of beliefs and code of behavior. Efforts to relax the boundaries separating disciplines have typically focused on fostering collaboration among them. However, in an increasingly complex environment, in which enhanced feedback is critical, perhaps collaboration around points of interdisciplinary agreement is not what is needed. Instead, we might look to academic disciplines to challenge each other’s assumptions, and thereby enhance the  overall pool of knowledge–what Beinhocker call the design space. Organizations such as the Santa Fe Institute have demonstrated the rewards of this kind of cross training. Ironically, efforts such as these have typically taken place outside of the university environment. It is time to bring complexity inside!

On Technorati: Add new tag, bureaucracies, complexity, Duguid and Brown, Eric Beinhocker, fitness landscape, Higher Education, iron cage, Max Weber, organizational change, Santa Fe Institute, universities

Checking our luggage on a United airplane headed for Seattle, we experienced the ultimate in unbundling.   Not only did we have to master the use of the terminal kiosk to access our boarding pass; in the process, we were offered a variety of additional features–all formerly available as part of a flight package.  Included, for example, was baggage storage,  extra leg room, an upgrade to first class, and additional miles.  In the heat of the moment, we decided we could use some extra leg-room.  Inserting our credit card into the kiosk once again, we requested additional space. Alas, we got instead extra miles–heaven only knows to where. Although the lady at the counter could not tell us the destination of these miles, nor how to make use of them, she did know that they were nonrefundable. Sympathetic to our plight, she explained: “Sorry, we have been instructed not to provide passengers much help. The airline companies want us, instead, to train the passengers to take over our jobs.”

 Sympathetic to our plight, she explained: “Sorry, we have been instructed not to give passengers much help. The airline companies want us, instead, to train the passengers to them over our jobs.”  

What a disturbing comment!  Stopping at a fast food counter, I began to ponder it. As I assembled a meal to take on the plane from among the assorted, individual food items, I was struck by what appears to be an inexorable seepage of the idea of unbundling from its origins in the divestiture of the American telephone system to the deconstruction of commonplace pleasures and practices, such as a formal lunch.

Certainly, the modularization of information and communication technologies has greatly facilitated the process of unbundling. Allowing companies to maximize their profits and differentiate their products, by charging on a service by service, item by item, basis, unbundling has been extolled by economists, such as Hal Varian and Garth Saloner, as the essence of efficiency.  As these authors argue in their book, Information Rules, unbundling promotes innovation, encourages competition, and provides for greater consumer choice. One should note, however, that these advocates make little mention of social costs.

This is not the first time that I have thought about the costs and benefits of unbundling. Having directed the OTA study, Critical Connections: Communications for the Future, I spent the eighties participating in the debates surrounding the divestiture of the Bell telephone system. Notwithstanding–or perhaps because of–the in-depth research we conducted, and the intense discussions in which we were engaged, I was never totally convinced of the wisdom of unbundling the communication system.  One book that had a significant influence on my thinking was Steve Coll’s intriguing narrative The Deal of a Century: The Breakup of At&T (1986), in which he describes the high drama and serendipitous events that led to the unexpected divestiture outcome.  These included, for example, Baxter’s bias, Green’s takeover of the case, Reagan’s absence at a critical meeting, and Brown’s unanticipated willingness to make a deal.   As a relatively young policy analyst at the time, I was shocked at what appeared to be a lack of analysis driving such a momentous decision.  I was relieved when, at the end of Coll’s book, he raised the question of social costs associated with unbundling, especially the new transaction costs that would fall to the user.

As bundling proceeds apace, encroaching on all realms of our lives, perhaps it is time to revisit its underlying rationale.  In particular, we need to reassess what is lost when all sorts of products and services are disassembled, and users are expected to put Humpty Dumpty together again.  The telephone is a prime example. At the time of divestiture, the transaction costs for users were relatively low–choosing among styles and colors, coping with jacks, and inside wiring.  As technology has advanced, however, sorting out the choices and technological complexities can befuddle even the best of us.  

Even more troubling for me, is the unbundling (or one might say disembedding) of the economic product from the context in which it is employed. The problem is well laid out in The Social Life of Information written by Paul Duguid and John Seely Brown, the book I have assigned for next week’s Networked Economy Class.  As the author’s note, just as in the case of United Airlines, businesses are increasingly substituting technology for human interaction, and with dire consequences.  What such businesses fail to recognize is that technologies can not replicate the knowledge generation, knowledge sharing and/or the norms of reciprocity and collaboration that are inherent in human interaction.  Nor do such policies foster consumer loyalty–next time for me its Southwest Air!   

 

 

 

 

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