A LUCILIUS PARABLE: GO FIGURE

June 21st, 2020

Lucilius was on the floor, looking at a set of instructions.  They weren’t clear, and he was having trouble figuring out exactly what the next step involved. It’s the fatal flaw with all instructions, Lucilius thought, they are always written by people who know how it’s supposed to go.  He flipped the instructions around and pointed out the spot he didn’t understand to the little boy he was watching over for the day.  The boy tilted his head at the picture and then looked at Lucilius’ progress.  He picked up model and then looked at the pieces strewn between the two of them.  Then he quickly gathered a few of them and put them together and snapped the combination onto Lucilius’ model.

“There,” the boy said, handing Lucilius back the model.

“How’d you do that?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders.  “I dunno,” he said as his attention drew back into his own project.

“Wait, wait,” Lucilius said.  He turned the model in his hands.  “That piece,” he said, “how did you know that one was in there?  You can’t see it from the angle of the picture in the instructions.”

The boy glanced at the piece Lucilius was pointing out.  “I dunno, how else would you make it that shape?”

Lucilius pondered the model and looked at the instructions again.  “Well, yes, of course you’re right, but there’s no way you could have figured that out while looking at the instructions, it doesn’t show that step.”

“Why did you think it would show you every step?”  The boy asked.

“Well, they’re instructions, that’s the whole point.  They show you each step.”

“Really?” the boy said.  He was genuinely curious with Lucilius’ description.  “I thought they were just to show you if you were on the right track or not while you figure it out.”

“Well yea,” Lucilius said, “that too.  But what good are they if they leave steps out?”

The boy was busy again, working on his own mode.  “But then where’s the fun?  What are you supposed to figure out?”

Lucilius mulled over the boy’s words, looking at his model and the steps in the instructions.  “And besides,” the boy said, “if you think the instructions are always supposed to show you every step then you’re definitely going to get stuck, and then you won’t know what to do because you don’t realize there’s something to figure out.  You just think there’s something wrong with the instructions.”

“So I’ve been thinking about instructions all wrong?”

“I think so,” said the boy.

“I guess there should be instructions for the instructions.”

The boy stopped with his tinkering and looked at Lucilius.  “Doesn’t that miss the point?”

Lucilius laughed, “yea, I guess.  Go figure.”

FLATTERY

June 20th, 2020

This episode is dedicated to Nick Hawkins who has been kind enough to share some of the content from Tinkered Thinking, and who has been a kind and generous companion in dialogue.

Some while ago Tinkered Thinking shared a quote online that is an essential principle for creativity.  It’s as follows:

“Good artists borrow, great artists steal.” – Tinkered Thinking

This is, of course, a lighthearted joke that utilizes the practice that it describes:  Tinkered Thinking didn’t come up with this combination of words, Picasso did.  Well, at least, that’s what’s popularly believed.  The actual origin of this idea seems to come from W. H. Davenport Adams in 1892, which may have influenced T.S. Eliot’s version of the quote.  In the end, by attributing this quote to yourself, it’s actually quite difficult to figure out who exactly you are stealing from.  The most accurate answer, which is also the least satisfying, is that you steal from a group of people who pondered the concept and batted the idea around in different variations.

The tense implication remains: is it art to steal?  Is that creativity?  And of course, there are the more difficult questions: is this good or bad?

Any moralistic question, like this last one, must be itself subjugated to some questions, principally: is this a question worth answering?  We may react quickly and say that all questions regarding right and wrong are essential and worth answering, but pause to genuinely wonder about this. 

Is it possible that we might create more harm by answering the question of whether something is good or bad?

The answer could be yes, which means that perhaps there are some moral questions that are simply less useful, and less interesting than others.

It’s not uncommon to see creators publicly bemoan the use of their material in contexts that don’t attribute the source of the material.  From a strictly material view point, this certainly seems justified.  But, there are deeper aspects of such an occasion that are far more important and almost always go overlooked.

What does it mean when your creation pops up in another place?  At base, this means that someone’s mind was so moved by what they encountered, that the content replicated.  That doesn’t happen with everything.  In fact, if you consider the sheer volume of content that we are inundated with, it’s amazing that it happens at all.  The first, and perhaps only conclusion we should draw from this situation is that the material is valuable.  Someone saw enough worth in it to spread it.  The concept of ownership might seem like it’s in conflict with this notion of valuable but again, we must ask: is such a connection helpful or useful?  Such a question makes more sense if someone steals your car.  In that case you’ve actually lost something.  And with this juxtaposition we get at the heart of the difference.  If someone replicates your work at no clear material cost to you, then this person has actually done you a favor, especially if your work is based in ideas.  Anyone who tinkers with ideas and seeks to be genuine and authentic about the meaning and value of such ideas must come to the question of effectiveness, or rather:

are your ideas working?

Replication, from a memetic standpoint, is the first sign that an idea may be effective.  If the idea readily finds a welcoming home in the minds of other people, then you might be on to something.  It might not actually be something good, as bad ideas can spread just as much as good ones, but the ability for an idea to spread is necessary for good ideas to have a larger impact – there’s just no way to get around that fact.  Point is, at the end of the day, if your material shows up somewhere else, then you’re on to something.

There’s also the issue of attention, and how we use it.  If someone else finds your material valuable, then it means you are capable of creating good material.  So are you going to waste time getting hung up on issues of ownership, credit and arguments that are likely to cause more harm than good… or are you going to spend that time and attention creating more?  Case in point:  at the urging of a disgruntled confidant Tinkered Thinking reached out to someone who was kind enough, and inspired enough to share some of the material from Tinkered Thinking, but this was attempted in a way that was intended to be gentle and curious, no more.  What resulted was an incredibly generous conversation.  Tinkered Thinking has clearly found a true friend.  Now observe, would this outcome still occurred if Tinkered Thinking had reacted with frustration and anger?  It’s entirely appropriate that the outcome could have been far worse.  In addition, the conversation helped generate this episode which is humbly, and gratefully dedicated to this companion in conversation.

And that’s what it’s all about at the end of the day, generosity, or rather: what we generate.

An authentic creator strives just to generate.  If people find our creations valuable, then generosity is likely to be the response, in the long term.

It’s a sign of deep weakness to get bent out of shape over things such as content appropriation.  Not only is it possible that we might be completely wrong about the intention, but such a reaction totally glosses over the important implication that our work is good.

There is only one appropriate response that honors the value of our content, and that reaction is

appreciation.

PUT A BOW ON IT

June 19th, 2020

Presentation is everything.  Or so they say.  It is fundamentally wrong to concentrate only on appearances, and this is exactly what presentation is: optics.  The confusion lies in the unseen, behind the presentation, where the real substance is, or isn’t.

First, something is far less likely to sell if the optics are bad.  We are a species that is vision primary.  For better or worse.  And for all your internet sales gurus and side hustle maniacs, this translates into the idea that you can make a living just by presenting a good looking image.  Some even make the deception work: selling snake-oil is as old as the invention of lying.

The puny kernel of truth that can be extracted from such nonsense is that style, design, aesthetics, and the overall optics of a thing makes it more likely that we will have some engagement, and engagement is required if anyone is going to discover the real substance of what’s on offer.  The hollow platitude presentation is everything, would make better sense with more substance in the sentence: presentation makes everything more approachable.  If the final result of all our work isn’t approachable, then it may have all been for nothing, making presentation everything.

We may spend 99% of our time and effort getting something to work, and be ready to call it a day, ship it, and wipe our hands of the project.  But all that work might be for nothing if no none engages with it.  And this is why it can be so useful to put a bow on it.

This phrase is actually used in the opposite manner.  We talk about ‘putting a bow on it’ when it’s clearly done and time to move on.  It’s the equivalent of “you’re done, let’s go.”  Strangely, the phrase doesn’t even stand by it’s own directive.  Put a bow on it, literally means: take that last extra step to make it look pretty, presentable, and clearly a gift.

There is something somewhat anticlimactic about an unwrapped gift, as though it lacks the signal of giving.  It’s the complement to the worse twin of a beautifully wrapped box that is empty, though while the first still fulfills it’s mission, this latter twin truly is a deception: a prank at the very best, a straight up con at the very worst.

We aren’t actually done when it’s time to put a bow on it.  Instead, the time has come to switch gears, and attempt to communicate genuinely just how much effort and love has gone into the substance of the product or gift.

Think about what it’s like to receive a beautifully wrapped gift, something that looks so good you don’t even want to unwrap it.  As creators we must seek to create a situation where the gift we give is a cake that’s eaten and kept forever: we should aim to produce something beautiful, that lives up to its own aesthetics. 

DECENTRALIZED IDEAS

June 18th, 2020

This episode is dedicated to Sarah Cooper.  She is a comedian who has recently risen to prominence with her lip-syncing videos.  You can connect with Sarah on Twitter with the handle @sarahcpr where you can also see her videos.

“You could have a beer with him.”

This praising phrase within the political arena was first dreamt up by Jon Meachum, speaking about the first George Bush who was then running for President.

There is something comforting and deeply resonate in the notion of being able to have a beer with someone.  There is a sense of comfort and security.  There is the sense that you can let your guard down.  People don’t have a beer together on the battlefield, they do so when things are calm, at peace, when things are safe, and we are surrounded by friends.  It does this more than anything: the simple statement implies that the individual in question shouldn’t be in question at all, that this person is already a friend waiting to be found.

There is a great deal to be said about the boons of civilization that have engineered the circumstance where strangers in many countries can sit down at a bar beside other strangers and let their guard down, have a beer, and enjoy each other’s company.

But what does this say of their ideas?

Even long time friends who regularly share time over a couple cold ones can have long standing disagreements that are never resolved and which are never spoken of.

Fact is, the friendliness, charisma, congeniality, look, voice, and approachability have very little to do with the ideas a person has.  They seem to be correlated, and for much of our personal life, our judgments of these qualities serve as fairly reliable heuristics for navigating people.  The problem is that these are heuristics, they are correlations, there is no link of causation.  Psychopaths can game these heuristics merely by mimicking these qualities.  Unfortunately, we are a species that has sifted within it’s midst the ability to smile at someone when facing them while concealing the knife that will be plunged into their back when they turn.  This isn’t necessarily a cause for cynicism, but merely recourse for a particular variety of caution.

Sarah Cooper has recently risen to prominence as a comedian because of her lip-syncing impersonations of the President of the United States, and the reason why her videos have been so effective is rooted precisely in the topic at hand.

By removing the image of the speaker, the facial expressions, the attire, the setting with podium and somber people surrounding, Sarah puts on naked display the words of the president, bearing in full light exactly what ideas these words convey – or don’t convey.

We can examine the topic with a different thought experiment:  would politicians still get elected if you couldn’t see them, and you couldn’t listen to their voice?  What if politicians were chosen exclusively through their ideas?  What if candidates were only permitted to share their ideas for office in writing?  And people had to read of these ideas in order to figure out who they should vote for?  The feasibility of this as an actual practice is not the point, the point is to ask: would the same people still get elected?  If the answer even has the potential of being anything other than ‘yes’, then we must admit that we are giving people power for reasons that are potentially wholly superficial. 

The equivalent might like abandoning a good sturdy little rowboat while lost in the middle of the sea and swimming toward the mirage of a cruise ship that doesn’t actually exist.

We misguide ourselves by look and feel at the cost of a good future, favoring things that we react well to in the moment.  We misuse our mental systems, often without realizing it.  We rely on the heuristics of the emotional system, when we would be better served to slow down and think carefully about the factors at hand.  A sturdy little rowboat that actually floats is better than the grandest cruise ship we can ever imagine.

A recent phenomenon that has been made possible by the internet is the anonymous brand and persona. Like any development, this poses benefits and risks.  As Renee DiResta has studied and pointed out, there are many ‘anonymous’ accounts run by malicious agents with the aim of misguiding people.

The flipside of this, however, is that many of the traditional gates and gatekeepers for the proliferation of ideas can be circumvented for good reasons.  Less powerful people can now play the same game as people who were once the only permitted players, permitted only because of additional superficial reasons.

Beneath the layers of this issue resides a single question: how do we judge the merits of an idea?

We rarely ask this, and its even more rare that we would ask this question in the moment.  In the moment things are often moving too fast for our thoughtful systems to keep up with, and in lieu of this, we are defaulting to a quicker emotional system that trades thoughtful consideration for processing speed.

The curious proposal of anonymity and the rise of platforms that allow for the sharing of ideas that are divorced from the superficial qualities of their source is to wonder if ideas are better judged without these qualities or not?  We can wonder further and ask: what is the most optimal system for sharing ideas and sussing out their merit?  Perhaps it is easier to make a better decision when situations are shed of attributes that often mislead us: the soft resonance of someone’s voice, or the powerful force of an excellent orator, or the cool collected look of a pundit dismissing a legitimate argument with a playful sneer and a deflecting joke.

A problem of course, concerning the medium through which ideas are shared is that the form determines to a large extent how such things last in memory.  We will remember an image forever, but furrow a brow trying to remember the main argument of a piece of writing.

What’s clear is that beyond all else, we must simply continue the conversation, and wonder about new ways that enable us to communicate more effectively.

DETECTING INEQUITIES

June 17th, 2020

Are you wrong or am I wrong?  The insidious tendrils of this perspective weaves through the structure of so many conversations, turning communication into a competitive game, one of zero-sum that leaves us only with the polar trophies of defeat and victory.

If you are wrong, then I look good by default.  I don’t even have to have a good point.  The juxtaposition next to something worse activates our preference for the lesser of two evils.  In the arena of the public, the greatest evil is the out-group and the risk of association with that ill-fated tribe.  The mere risk of such association will goad us to clamor aboard a fancier looking ship, even if it’s headed for the mythic precipice at edge of the world.

So during conversation, do we pick out places where our companion is wrong?  Or do we try to sense the faults in our own thinking?  The later might seem better, humbler, but it’s still part of the same polar world of competition.

A better framework is to disregard the sources as targets of blame or fault and focus on the action itself: 

Where is the conversation faulting?

Say for example two people have two different understandings of one particular word.  The word is used during conversation.  How does the other react?

Oh, I don’t think you understand the word you just used?

or

Wait, a minute, maybe I don’t understand that word?

or

That word didn’t make sense in the way I usually think about it, why exactly did that happen?

The key feature of this last question is that it addresses the nature of conversation.  This question opens up the possible space of solutions to include the two prior questions, but beyond this, it also creates space for other interpretations that don’t exist within the purview of the first two questions.

The two people talking might be from totally different countries where the specific word has different meanings, meaning that in the case of speaking together, both definitions are correct.  And more importantly, if this were the case, the first two questions that attempt to figure out what’s going on are rendered ineffective and often lead us down unproductive rabbit holes.  Only the third question opens up the perspective on the situation enough to include such a possibility.

Strangely, the widest perspective enables us to zero in on the inequity faster than a more focused point of view. 

So much of learning and understanding is a matter of context, and the size of the context we take into consideration.  We run into trouble when we are too often zoomed-in.  The benefit isn’t in being able to view things from a bird’s eye, zoomed out position, but in the ability to toggle fluidly between narrow specific focus, and a wide, encompassing picture.

Detecting inequities is a matter of how we see the situation more than it is a function of the actual details, because from the right angle, at the right distance, all those key details snap into focus.