jumpingfish

Anand Giridharadas, as his about page begins, is a writer.

He is the author most recently of Winners Take All which sadly, in spite of a valiant go last summer, I have not finished. (So many books, so little time.) Why I didn’t stick with it, is beyond me. His writing is a joy to read, and his message resonates with my soul.

This morning, I discovered that I had a long-unvisited browser tab open to an Time article by him (How America’s Elites Lost Their Grip) which is worth reading for his main thesis (that we are at the cusp of an Overton-window shift that is making possible an era of reforms challenging late stage hyper-capitalism) but also shows what a spectacular writer he is.

To my eye, his brilliance is his ability to weave stories into the substance of his points. But the language he uses to construct the stories is a marvel. Here are some snippets (emph added) from his Time article.

History is the story of conditions that long seem reasonable until they begin to seem ridiculous.

or

It seemed to come as a surprise to Bezos that … many weren’t excited by … giving his company a few billion dollars in tax breaks that wouldn’t be available to a regular Joe starting a business.

or

Many others … had bolder-faced names, but McGlashan was significant because…

or

… for you, that may be a big fine. For Facebook, it was such a feathery tickle …

or

… resulting in Sackler wings and institutes and centers … that allowed the grim machinery of drug peddling to grind on…

or

what Epstein revealed was … systemic rot in our culture—especially at our universities, which have become drive-through reputational laundromats.

or

Peak billionaire may be a billionaire deciding to … and then running against a maybe–billionaire…

Reputational laundromats. Yow, are we having fun, yet? Even my spell checker does a double-take on that. Oh my.

“Where’s your brother?” I asked Izzy.

She had been barking at the front door and then barking at the back. When the frantic cacophony dissipated, I realized that Charlie was no longer in his bed by the fireplace that we never use. Loud noises startle him, and her barking certainly qualifies.

Izzy didn’t answer my question.

“Where’s your brother?” I repeated. And I began a scan of the house.

Down the hallway? No. Under the table by the door? No. 

You see, in his senescence Charlie frequently falls into reverie. And with his permanently dislocated hips, he frequently gets trapped. Trapped under things. Trapped in corners. I figured he was trapped in reverie somewhere. But where?

“Where’s your brother?” Izzy remained silent.

Trapped under the dining room chairs? No. Standing behind the philodendron in the dining room? No. Under the rocking chair? No.

“He must be in the closet,” I said.

I went into the master bedroom — the only room with an open door, all of the other doors closed to shorten searches like this one. I looked into the walk-in closet. There he was, in the darkness, motionless, staring into the darkerness under the hanging clothes.

“Don’t worry Izzy,” I said. “I found him just where we thought he would be.”

I walked up to Charlie slowly and stroked his back. Startled out of his reverie, he jerked his head around to look at me. I picked him up and carried him outside to have him wander instead around the backyard in the sun. He did this until he was ready to come back in and settle back down in his bed by the fireplace that we never use. And he will lie there until his sister starts her barking again.

A book: “Lost in Math” by Sabine Hossenfelder (who blogs at BackReAction). A quote…

“How patently absurd it must appear … that people get paid for ideas like [those of Xiao-Geng Wen and his collaborators]. But then … people also get paid for throwing balls through hoops.” (p. 192)

Let’s explore this a bit.

Big thoughts about physics: To give you an example of what Hossenfelder is alluding to when talking about his “ideas”, listen to Xiao-Geng Wen’s description of his ideas (at 5:36): “Maybe our space is a string liquid, and we live in a noodle soup.”

Big thoughts about basketball: To give you an example of Hossenfelder’s point about “hoops”, listen to Coach Daniel’s description of the clearout: “which occurs when the big man … on offense … clears out the rim-protecting big man on defense”.

For better or worse, as much as this kills me to concede, you shouldn’t roll your eyes at one of these without rolling your eyes at the other. We should take Hossenfelder’s observation as a precaution against such one-sided eye-rolling.

1. On Eye Contact

In Switzerland, I understand, it is considered poor form to toast someone without making direct, intentional eye contact with them. Having been told this, Trudy and I have adopted the habit. Whenever our glasses meet in cheer, so do our eyes — intentionally, with the unspoken knowledge that we are following the Swiss tradition.

But of course, eye contact is more than a Swiss tradition. You might argue that it’s part of being a decent person. Acknowledge those around you. Greet them with a smile and a sparkle in your eye. You might argue that it’s just good manners. If so, count me as rude, for I find eye contact hard to initiate and difficult to maintain.

I am not alone in this. But as the years go by, I find that even I yearn for a glance from a neighbor driving by or a nod from one of my students in the hall. As you might imagine, getting eye contact from teenagers in the hall is a dicey proposition. 

Perhaps making eye contact is just something that needs to be explicitly taught. If so, and given that I am a teacher, then perhaps this responsibility falls to me.

2. Making Eye Contact with Me

“When you are done with the final,” I said, “please put it in the purple tray by the door, and return to your desk.”

“And if you want to use your phones, first make explicit eye contact with me.”

That was simple enough. And in the end, all of them did as I asked, in all cases catching my attention and motioning silently so as to ask if they could use their phones — in all cases but one.

This student is one of the best. Scores high. Understands well. Asks questions. Takes good notes. So it was no surprise that she also followed my instructions — followed them to a tee.

At some point during the final, I looked up and noticed her silently sitting, hands on desk, head turned, eyes focused on me. When I saw her and she saw that I saw her, her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t move, didn’t make any gestures, just stared more intensely, impeccably following the instructions I had given: “Make eye contact with me.”

Eye contact having been made. The protocol had been followed. She knew it. I knew it.

I smiled and nodded my head imperceptibly. And with this signal, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her ear buds and phone.

A book: “Automating Inequality” by Virginia Eubanks. Some notes…

The book is a remarkably specific, in-the-trenches look at the role that automation is having in our country, how despite its patina of objectivity, the technology is contributing to a new kind of growth of inequality in American society. 

The argument is based on three case studies: (1) an Indiana project to automate the determination of eligibility for social services, (2) a Los Angeles system to categorize the homeless and provide relief, and (3) an Allegheny County Pennsylvania system to algorithmically assess the risk of child neglect and abuse.

The narrative of these case studies weaves together stories of specific people with more general historical and policy observations. It is an effective way to make the big points without losing the audience. Sadly, losing me as the audience is a real risk. I was able to make is all the way thru the book — a testament to the effectiveness of its narrative perhaps, or maybe a sad exception on my powers of concentration.

There is a chapter that reflects on the nature of what the author calls the “digital poorhouse” that is perhaps the biggest take-away for me. Her summary goes something like this…

(1) At root, Americans believe in three things: liberty, equity, and inclusion. (2) Liberty can be thought of in two ways: freedom-from and freedom-to, and the digital poorhouse diminishes both. (3) Equity can be thought of in two ways: equal treatment and equal value, and the digital poorhouse diminishes both. (4) Inclusion can be thought of in two ways: assimilation into the broader culture and integration of our whole selves, and the digital poorhouse diminishes both. I really like this analytical framework, although I might argue with the author’s premise that these are in fact the core values Americans hold (even granting that they might be implicitly held), but that’s not a useful argument to launch into, here.

The concluding chapter addresses how we might “dismantle” the digital poorhouse. I haven’t read it, yet.

Ok, so that means that I have not yet finished the book, and so my lame powers of concentration might yet catch up with me. Wish me luck.