Exploring Interdisciplinarity

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