Going Out Of My Head

Posted on May 4, 2010 by Linda

juke box love from miss kristin g

As a child of the Sixties, I have been imbued with the music of the time. Somewhere in my brain there is a virtual juke box, where songs and memories are inextricably intertwined. Without forewarning, an event or thought will flip a switch; then, traveling through the synapses in my brain, a tune will come to mind; and–much like Doris Day in a 1950s musical–I will break out into song. It is, so to speak, a very emergent phenomenon. Of late, for example, it is the tune Going Out of My Head by Little Anthony and the Imperials that keeps running through my mind.

Rock Hudson and Doris Day PILLOW...from Christine Montone

This notion of the virtual juke box came to mind, I think, because I have been exploring how the brain works in my class Networks and the Creative Process. Most stimulating in triggering my thoughts about how the brain, memories, and every day experiences are linked together has been Joseph Le Doux’s book Synaptic Self: How Our Brains Become Who We Are –a book I highly recommend. In this book, Le Doux raises the question of how we evolve to become the persons we are.

how do we evolve to become the persons we are

Le Doux’s narrative relates to the eternal debates–dating back at least to the time of Plato and Aristotle–about the mind-body problem. Le Doux transcends this dichotomy, arguing that the body (brain) and mind (soul, consciousness, self) are one. The brain, according to Le Doux is constituted of a complex network of neurons that house genetic information and memory. While these neurons store information, they are continually upgraded via axions and dendrites that reach out from other parts of the network, transmitting information via neurotransmitters, such as seritonin and dopamine. As Le Doux explains, all individuals have a brain structure that replicates this pattern, but it is an individual’s specific architecture–the product of genetic makeup and experience–that makes him or her unique. As he says: we are our synapses.

synapse from Lush Photo

So, reading Le Doux, it is now clear to me that my virtual juke box is just one customized circuit among the millions of circuits that make up my brain. Moreover, I can see how this circuit has evolved and accompanied me throughout my life, housing all the songs that have buffered me through my first heart-breaks, the anti-war movement, and all those difficulties associated with the rebellious Sixties. But why now, I ask, should the song Going out of My Head–a song I haven’t thought about in years–suddenly raise its head.

A few weeks ago I heard a colleague speak to a group of students. Talking about his own intellectual journey, he described in a most poignant way his decision to pursue what he characterized as a Life of the Mind. Shades of Plato. Having just read Le Doux, I had to question his words. If the mind is the sum total of all our synapses, isn’t Living the Life of the Mind what we all seek to do? As for me, were I to be constrained to work with only one part of my brain, I think I would go out of my head.

On Technorati: brain architecture, Doris Day, emergent, Fifties musicals, Joseph LeDoux, juke box, mind-brain, Sixties, synapses, The Synaptic Self

Maddening Mishaps

Posted on April 24, 2010 by Linda

Spills (from jahn)

When I was a child, my father used to warn me about excessive desires. It’s paradoxical, he said. But sometimes, when you obsess about a goal, you can undermine your chances of achieving it. And then my father would tell me the story of the skates–a story that, some fifty years later, still brought tears to his eyes.

Let me regress. When my father was a boy, a movie experience was a far cry from what it is today. Imagine a world without television, movies on-demand, CDs, NETFLIX, and Utube! Fortunately for my father, there was a local movie house in his hometown, Newark, New Jersey. To attract customers, the theater offered live entertainment along with the film. Even more important, from my father’s point of view, was the prize that the movie house awarded to the patron whose ticket stub had a number matching that on the ticket from a drawing.

Ice Skates and Snowflakes ( from Sublime Stitching)

The prize my father hankered for was a pair of skates. Daydreaming about them, he could imagine himself wearing those skates and gliding across Hawthorne Lake, the place where his family vacationed in northern New Jersey. (The place where, in fact, he taught me to ice skate many years later). The day finally came when the prize was a pair of skates. On hearing the news, my father dashed to the movie theater, perhaps not even knowing what film was being featured. Full of anticipation, he was primed in his seat, clutching his ticket stub and paying little attention to the action on the screen. Finally the show was over, and the drawing about to begin. My father sat forward in his seat, certain that his lucky day had arrived.

My father sat forward in his seat, certain that his lucky day had arrived.

Then the number was called out, and–believe it or not–it was his! He raced to the stage, grasping the ticket in his hand. But, when the manager of the theater inspected the ticket, he stood dumbfounded: there is no number on this ticket, he said. So preoccupied had my father been with winning, he inadvertently rubbed off the ticket number as he squirmed restlessly in his chair. That night, my father went home crestfallen, and without skates.

My father’s story came to mind the other day, when I opened my weblog, only to find a major mishap. All of the comments on my blog posts had disappeared–even the ones I treasured most, ie. those from the Provost. In fact, much to my horror, I realized that the comments had been PERMANENTLY DELETED. How could this happen? I soon found out. As was the case with my father’s skates–it had to do with excess zeal. While I love getting comments, I hate getting spam. Yet, everyday, like clockwork, I find entries from the same annoying spammers, who go by such names of Heel, Dominic, Jane, Hero, Bill, etc. Arg**/# So I went on a rampage, and tried to wipe them out. Unfortunately, there was collateral damage, and along with the spam, I destroyed all my comments. My apologies to all who took the time and thought to provide me this feedback.

Keep your eye on the ball (www.flickr.com/photos/karen)

My father was right–we are subject to unforeseen consequences when we focus too intensely on the main ball. Life is complex, so we need to look at the ball in context. Hmm. Isn’t that what I teach in my classes?

On Technorati: lessons from time, self full filling prophecies, the main ball, zeal

Don’t Miss This!

Posted on April 14, 2010 by Linda

On Technorati: complexity science, financial crisis, Mark Buchanan, phase transitions, physics and the social sciences

Can Universities Be Small Worlds?

Posted on April 4, 2010 by Linda

It's A Small World WD-2 from TTucker 8.0 2010

Students in my Networks and the Creative Process class have been thinking about what constitutes the most appropriate network architecture for fostering creativity. Following the work of Grannovetter, Strogatz, Watts, and Burt, as well as others, who advocate a small world network, we have been comparing various contextual architectures to each other as well as to that of a small world.

students compared the architecture of a city to that of the brain.

For example, in our last blogging assignment, students compared the architecture of a city to that of the brain, commenting in each case on how the architecture influences creativity. An interesting exercise, to be sure!

Perhaps I should say a word about small worlds, and why their architectures are assumed to facilitate creativity or–as Ron Burt would say–good ideas. Small world networks are characterized by dense clusters (comprised of close associations, or strong ties) that are linked to other clusters within a network by weak ties (or loosely coupled relationships). According to the theory, dense relationships within the clusters give rise to trust and collaboration, which enable collective action, thereby allowing members to more easily execute tasks.

old hat (from Fabrizio Savoca)

However, ideas within a cluster tend to become old hat–that is, because members are so closely associated, they tend to reinforce old ways of thinking and discourage new ideas. To garner new ideas and be creative requires outreach, based on weak ties, and the brokering of ideas across clusters.

At first glance, universities appear to be small worlds.

How does this idea apply to university settings? At first glance, one might assume that universities are ideal small worlds. Indeed, divided up into departments that are grounded in disciplinary practices and domains, the university is constituted of relatively independent departmental clusters, which are linked only indirectly through structurally equivalent ties to the university administration–an organizational paradigm that dates back to the post civil-war research university (Clark Kerr).

Medieval University (courtesy of Wikipedia

Although universities have long clung to their autonomy and independence from outside influences, of late, growing economic pressures have led them to reach out to their larger socioeconomic environment for financial support through grants, alliances, joint ventures, and patent pools. These outreach efforts have not only been favored by Government but also supported through legislation, which allows faculty members to claim proprietary rights over research sponsored by public funds. As Henry Etzkowitz has described it in his book The Triple Helix, the university is evolving from an ivory tower to an entrepreneurial paradigm.

As the university, as a whole, has reached outward, how have the local clusters–the disciplinary departments–fared? It is here that one might raise a red flag.

Red Flag Day from Ridock

Recall that for small networks to encourage creativity, outreach is not enough. External exploration requires in-group exploitation, a point that Robert Axelrod makes in his book Harnessing Complexity. However, a search of the university literature yields sparse evidence that external ideas are being capitalized upon collectively among departmental faculty.

..the overall departmental learning (and the knowledge base of the university as a whole) will likely stagnate.

To the contrary, the modus operandi within academic departments appear to be based not on collaboration but rather on competition–competition for salaries, for grants and funding as well as for peer recognition. Hence, the overall departmental learning (and the knowledge base of the university as a whole) will likely stagnate over the long term. To boot, as Carl A. Raschke has noted, new technologies will exacerbate this situation, serving to fray the ties both within the university community as well as those directed outside.

For a preview of the future, one need only consult M. Mitchell Waldrops’ book, Complexity: The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos. In it Waldrop describes how individual scholars, who were in many cases at odds with their disciplinary departments, came together in a very synergistic fashion at the Santa Fe Institute to create the New Science of Complexity. To achieve these kind of synergies, universities might have to consider making some architectural changes to their small worlds.

On Technorati: Clark Kerr, complexity science, Duncan Watts, Harnessing Complexity, Henry Etzkowitz, Mark Grannoveter, Mitchell Waldrop, Robert Axelrod, Ron Burt, small world networks, Steven Strogatz

Creating a Creativity Curriculum

Posted on February 11, 2010 by Linda

My Muse Sparky

Believe me! Never in my life have I had to turn so much to my muse– my ever faithful dog, Sparky. The reason for seeking his inspiration on this occasion was my decision to teach a new course on Networks and the Creative Process.

As in all creative efforts (Austin 2003), this decision was, to a large degree, a matter of chance. Initially, I had planned to teach a course on networks and cooperation–a topic that, with hindsight, seems relatively bland. However, flying home from a trip to Utah, I began reading Keith Sawyers insightful book Explaining Creativity: The Science of Human Innovation. Deflating prevailing myths that circumscribe present-day thinking about creativity, Sawyer lays out the case for viewing creativity as an emergent, collaborative process, in which the whole is far greater than the sum of the parts.

My heart raced, as thoughts of complexity, networks, and emergent processes came to mind.

Reading Sawyer’s book, I was enthralled. My heart raced, as thoughts of complexity, networks, and emergent processes came to mind. I intuitively knew that a course on creativity would bring all my interests together in the context of complexity science. However, gut feelings aside, I knew very little about the subject of creativity. Nonetheless, I eagerly signed up to teach the course.

Operating in the dark, I delved into whatever literature I could find, contributing significantly–I think–to Amazon’s profit margin. There I sat, in my office chair, piles of books strewn all around me, in the vain hope that I might absorb some of the content through osmosis. To no avail! So I began to read, and read and read–books about neuroscience, personality disorders, flow, improvisation, serendipity, audience reactions, the new, creative economy, Florence and the Di Medici, and more.

Old Woman Reading

Digesting all of this reading, I learned that creativity required passion and hard work in mastering a field; an open mind able to tolerate ambiguity; a willingness to take on risk, and to persist, even as an outsider; curiosity when confronted with anomalies; as well as flexibility to capture the opportunities afforded by chance and serendipity. And so, inspired by this charge, I moved on. . .

When the time came for me to put together the syllabus, I had a skeleton of an idea. Building on the work of Sawyer and his mentor Mihaly Csikszentmihali, I looked at creativity as an ongoing, iterative process in which the creator is but a single element within a larger system, which includes the creator, a field, and an authoritative domain. My hope, however, is to go beyond Csikszentmihali’s characterization of a system, and to flesh out each element–beginning with the brain and extending outward to the cultural arena–showing how each element is itself a complex system, nested and linked within a larger complex system.

My syllabus is, however, a working document at best. It serves, merely, as a starting point and set of guidelines for a classroom improvisation. My students are highly creative, each in their own ways. They not only bring their own diverse experiences to class; they also actively participate in developing the evolving narrative. Truly, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Or so says my dog Sparky!

On Technorati: complexity, creativity, Csikzentmihali, James A. Austin, Keith R. Sawyer, the muse

Home For the Holidays!

Posted on December 28, 2009 by Linda

It has been more than three weeks since I wrote my last blog. You might wonder, where have I been. Let’s just say I’ve been “missing in action.” As my academic colleagues might concur, the long anticipated break between semesters can easily be winnowed away by the need to tie up loose ends–papers to be graded, theses to be presented, student recommendations to be crafted, and (as is the case for me this year) a new spring course to be designed. Somehow I squeeze in holiday concerts and get-togethers, sending out Christmas cards, a long postponed visit to the dentist, and–on no, not again so soon–jury duty. Thank goodness for on-line shopping and shipping; what did I ever do before?

Let’s just say I’ve been missing in action.

Hmm…. Looking back–many years now–I am reminded just how chaotic the pre-Christmas season has always been. As a graduate student at Columbia University, for example, I viewed the Christmas break as a time to complete those last, nagging term papers. Late Christmas Eve day, I would pack my books, and race from my apartment on 113th Street down to Fifth Avenue, where the stores were all decked out in their dazzling holiday fare. Inside Bergdof Goodman‘s, I was one of the few, remaining customers, scurrying from aisle to isle to take advantage of last minute sales.

Bergdorf Goodman courtesy of Wikipedia

Loaded up with presents for all, I must have looked like a very disheveled Santa Claus, as I traipsed to Penn Station and the train for home, where my mother and father–along with our traditional Christmas Eve spaghetti dinner–were awaiting me. Unloading my baggage with a sigh of relief, and settling in for an evening with my parents, dining on wine and pasta, I knew the holidays had really begun.

Going home for the holidays became, for me, a yearly event, that is, until 22 years ago, when my mother died–believe it or not, on Christmas Eve. (One might say, she knew how to make an exit!) But some holiday occasions and trips home were more memorable than others.

I vividly recall, for example, the ride home on Christmas Eve, when my son Stephen was about five years old. It was a cold night, with snow and sleet intermittently falling as we made our way to the 168th street bus terminal–a dingy, dirty place that reeked of a distinctly unpleasant odor. It was around 6 PM when we boarded the bus to Glen Rock, New Jersey the town where I had spent my teen age years. We were about half way there, when the bus suddenly broke down. The cold wind blew into the bus, as the driver paced in and out, trying to determine the nature of the problem. All the while the little heat that was left in the bus began to dissipate. Looking for a way to entertain my son during this unfortunate hiatus, I pulled out a book. It was Farley Mowat‘s The Boat Who Wouldn’t Float, an uproarious and often touching account of the author’s valiant–but more often than not unsuccessful– efforts to refurbish a boat and sail it from the shores of Newfoundland to Montreal.

Ignoring the ironic parallels between the book’s plot and our own situation, I began to read. I had heard that Mowat’s stories appealed to both children and adults alike, an observation that certainly proved true in this instance. So compelling was the story, others began to gather round to hear the tale. As the riders became engaged not only in the story, but also with each other, time flew by. We quickly forgot about the chill, and long before I had finished reading, a new transit bus came to our rescue. Luckily we arrived home in time for dinner. Relaxing afterwards, I reflected on what a warm and heartfelt Christmas Eve it had been indeed.

This year was no different, except that instead of visiting my parents in Glen Rock, we spent time with my son Steve, his wife Haley, and my two grandkids, Ben and Sophie, at their home in Millburn New Jersey. Hoping to arrive in time for Christmas Eve dinner, provided this time by my sister Anne, we calculated for traffic and set out early that morning–my husband Brock, my dog Sparky, and me. However, we could never–in our furthest imagination–have anticipated the traffic situation on the New Jersey Turnpike. It was bumper to bumper all the way, with cars creeping along in tandem much as slime mold moves across the forest floor. With cars climbing up our tail, and our dog breathing down our necks, we tried to make the best of the situation.

With cars climbing up our tail, and our dogs breathing down our necks, we tried to make the best of the situation.

So, having chattered about every subject under the sun, we pulled out and played our tapes of the Christmas Revels. Reminiscing about each delightful production, we suddenly found ourselves in Millburn, where we enjoyed what my husband Brock describes as a Norman Rockwell Christmas.

Perhaps it is only normal that my memories of Christmas Past should focus in part on the journey home. After all, as it is written, the first Christmas entailed Mary and Joseph’s difficult journey to Joseph’s birthplace in Bethlehem, as well as the three wise men’s arduous travels, following the star, to find them there. So, looking back, and keeping the Christmas story in mind, I suspect that all that hustle and bustle entailed in preparing for and journeying home for the holidays, not only enhances the value of achieving the end goal–if only a spaghetti dinner; sometimes, it can have its own inadvertent rewards.

With that said, I wish you many delightful journeys in the New Year!

On Technorati: Bergdorf Goodman, children and grandchildren, Christmas dinner, family, Farley Mowat, Glen Rock New Jersey, holiday season, Millburn, New Jersey, New Jersey Turnpike, on-line shopping, The Boat Who Wouldn't Float

Theory and Practice

Posted on October 5, 2009 by Linda

String Theory in Practice? from photo fiddler

Why do I need to learn theory? I want to be a practitioner. So said one of my students in my class on Networks and International Development. A good question, to be sure, and one which–as I could tell by their nodding faces– many of my other students were pondering as well.

Why do I need to learn theory? I want to be a practitioner. A good question to be sure!

My first response was to draw upon James Rosenau, and his eloquent justification of theory, provided in the introduction to his book, The Scientific Study of Foreign Policy (1989). As in my case, questioning students had plucked a chord in him, inspiring Rosenau to spell out the benefits and approaches entailed in employing theory as a basis for studying empirical questions. Rosenau makes, what to me are, two really important points. The first aims to help the student think theoretically: practice going up the ladder of abstraction, he says. Ask yourself what your concern is an instance of. As Rosenau notes, rarely do we become interested in isolated events; more often than not, our puzzles are instances of more generalizable, abstract phenomenon–we just haven’t thought about them this way. The second point is just as inspiring. Theory, says Rosenau, is fun.

I couldn’t agree more. Of course, I am the first to acknowledge that theories are essential as a means of organizing ideas, providing coherence to an argument, and allowing comparisons among diverse situations. But theories are also, and -as importantly–capsules of prior knowledge, a shorthand–if you will–of the wisdom of the ages. Nonetheless, theories are not to be accepted at face value; rather they are to be challenged, from every possible perspective, as in a game of skill.

Theories are to be challenged, as in a game of skill

Hence, I like to think of theories not in terms of their truth, but rather in terms of their potentiality. What do they suggest to me, which I might have overlooked. Just as when I go to a clothing store, and see all of the outfits laid out on a rack, I try theories on for size. Does the dress fit? Does it enhance my looks? Is it consistent with the rest of my wardrobe? If not, I leave it on the rack for someone else to fill it out. 853545481_e7701bc1ce_m

I wonder, in fact, what would I do without theory. For example, tomorrow I leave for Beijing to deliver a presentation on Standard Setting: Meeting the Global Challenge, at a conference sponsored by the National Bureau of Asian Research. While I started out with a general idea for the presentation, I was struggling with the question of how I might apply my analysis to the specific case of China, and–more specifically– to developing an appropriate standards strategy that China might pursue.

As good fortune would have it, our reading for class was Sidney Tarrow‘s New Transnational Activism–the very same book that provoked my student’s question about theory. But, herein was the clue to my puzzle: Tarrow’s theoretical discussion suggested that the architecture of our increasingly international society provides opportunities for newcomers to exercise agency in contexts/interstices that are as yet underdeveloped. Based on my analysis of global standards, and Tarrow’s theory about transnational activism, I could identify–as depicted in the table below– just where the standards opportunities for China might lie. The Challenge--Filling in the Blanks

The pudding, it seems to me, proves the point. Theory can, indeed, serve very practical needs!

On Technorati: China, economic development, global standards, James Rosenau, ladder of abstraction, Tarrow, why theory

Games People Play

Posted on July 21, 2009 by Linda

Video Game Collage (courtesy bobfoldfive)

On the recommendation of my colleague Garrison Le Masters, I brought the book, Dionysus Reborn: Play and the Aesthetic Dimension in Modern Philosophical and Scientific Discourse, by Mihai I. Spariosu, to read during my vacation at Lake Hawthorne. Garrison and I had spent many hours over the last few years comparing our common interests through different disciplinary perspectives–he from a cultural studies perspective and I through the lens of social science. Often engaged in these endeavors, we decided to collaborate on a project that would build on both our strengths–a paper that explored whether the criteria typically used for evaluating standardization at the lower levels of ICT networks served well for applications at the highest levels such as, in our chosen case, video games and virtual worlds. We plan to present the paper at this year’s Telecommunication Policy Research Conference (TPRC).

Not knowing very much about the subject of play–at least from an academic perspective–I decided to get up to speed by reading Spariosu. Despite all of the playful moments in my childhood–catching turtles, trying to beat the boys at king of the mountain, acting out various fantasy roles such as homemakers, storekeepers, librarians, and even fairy queens transported by eggshells in a magic kingdom–I had never systematically thought about play; at most I viewed play as an adventure, or exploration. Thus, I often associated play with excitement and risk (even if imaginary); for in my experience a playful romp might start out innocently enough, but eventually it could lead to trouble–as, for example, when as children we developed an elaborate plan to track down the rumored ghost in an abandoned house down our street, only–upon entry–to be greeted by the police.

By any measure, reading Dionysus Reborn here on my porch abutting the lake–where once I listlessly day dreamed reading Ivanhoe, Lorna Doon, and Vanity Fair, is anything but play. Rather, it is extraordinarily hard work. I am lucky if I can read fifty pages in a day. Only now do I understand why my cultural studies colleagues assign such a limited number of pages to their students. “Its all about interpreting the text,” they say. I must agree! The problem is not so much the numerous references in German and French–I can manage these. No, it’s the long unfamiliar latin-based English words, which make references to references on top of even more obtuse references.

Yellow Wheel Barrow (David Cooke)

To proceed I have to follow my father’s advice to me when I was learning to read–substitute the word wheel barrel for every word I can’t understand. No surprise, then, that I am beginning to think the subject of this book is more about gardening than about play. At the end of the day, I ask myself whether Garrison might not be playing with me.

At the end of the day, I ask myself whether Garrison might not be playing with me.

It is on this basis that I have decided to become more light hearted about this whole affair. I will use my blog to explore this subject further, that is to say, to play with some ideas. As in all games, It’s risky, but it also should be fun. Where do I stand at this point? From my readings to date, I understand there is an on-going historic conflict between a pre-rational, free-wheeling notion of play (as characterized by Schopenhaur, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Deleuze and Derrida) and a more rational conception of play (as understood by Plato, Aristotle, Kant and Schiller). Moreover, these two perspectives parallel what many past ‘thinkers’ believe to be an underlying conflict between the forces of chance vs. those of necessity. I have an inkling that this conflict can be reconciled within the framework of complexity theory and Stuart Kaufman‘s concepts of fitness levels and fitness landscapes, which in turn can also be linked to standardization and standards. But, to sort it out will take a lot more playing on my part.

On Technorati: Aristotle, cultural studies, Deluze, Derrida, Dionysus, fitness landscapes, fitness levels, games, Hawthorne Lake, Heidegger, ICTs, Ivanhoe, Kant, Lorna Doone, Mihai I. Spariosu, Nietzche, Plato, play, Schiller, Schopenhaur, social science, standards, Stuart Kaufman, TPRC, Vanity Fair, virtual worlds

Blogging in the Interstices

Posted on June 18, 2009 by Linda

Interstice by gregory lee

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.

Middle age alley by Vincent Giraud

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

Standardization: Reveries and Retrospectives

Posted on May 9, 2009 by Linda

October Daydream! / Rêverie d’octobre! by Denis Collette...!!!

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.

1959 American Standard bathroom by 50s Pam

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!

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Exploring Interdisciplinarity

The blog of D. Linda Garcia, PhD

Category Archives: Academe