I put in a lot of miles in my commute from home to work, work to class, from class back home again. I learned early on that podcasts help make the time go by more tolerably. EconTalk was the first podcast I started listening to consistently, and it has ended up being a fantastic supplement to my education.
The host is Russ Roberts, a professor at George Mason University whose class I had the pleasure of taking my very first semester in the Master's program in economics. Every week Roberts puts out another episode of EconTalk, almost always with an interview of an author, scholar, or someone with some practical experience of interest. As the name implies, the subject under discussion is often economics or related to it, and Roberts has several times explicitly stated that he sees EconTalk as a way of spreading free economic education, among other things.
Don't let that stop you from checking it out, though! A lot more than economics gets talked about at EconTalk. The very first episode I listened to was an interview with Chris Anderson on his book Free, which was then a work in progress. It was the interview with Clay Shirky that convinced me to buy his book, which I learned more from than anything else I've read on how the internet is changing the way people interact with one another. Roberts has interviewed Jimmy Wales about Wikipedia, Paul Graham about his experiences at the heart of the start-up scene in Silicon Valley, Eric Raymond on open source software, and Paul Buchheit on Gmail and Friendfeed. His interview with Google's chief economist Hal Varian is also a must listen for those who take an interest in technology and new media
The podcasts that focus on basic economics illuminate them in a way that is intuitive for people without any prior knowledge of the subject. In particular, episodes where Mike Munger plays his role as Roberts' partner in crime make for good educational material--see the podcasts on price-gouging, middlemen, public transportation, the division of labor, and the theory of the firm.
Some of the more advanced stuff is nevertheless accessible, and I admit to having my perspective altered by podcasts like the interview with Robert Higgs about the Great Depression, and the interview with George Selgin on free banking. EconTalk is also often educational on issues beyond economics; I learned a lot about the strengths and weaknesses of how polling is conducted from this interview with Doug Rivers.
Roberts often appeals to my philosophical interests as well, as he did in this discussion of why people are certain about their beliefs, and if we can ever really know anything concretely.
Roberts often works to bring on guests whose views he disagrees with to give listeners a range of perspectives; examples include Alan Wolfe, Ricardo Reis, Steve Fazzari, and Robert Shiller.
Obviously I don't find every single podcast interesting, but there are more than a few that I've listened to multiple times--many of which are linked to above. The only real complaint I have about EconTalk on the whole is that it sets the bar too high! It's the only nonfiction podcast that I listen to because all the other ones have disappointed me.
I hope to see a lot more scholars and thinkers putting out programs like EconTalk in the future. Until then, I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with the one I've got! For anyone interested in economics, new media, or philosophy, I highly recommend this podcast.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Something's Got to Give
The always insightful Clay Shirky delivered another interesting talk recently at the Web 2.0 Expo.
For the previous two posts I have considered, in one way or another, the issue of how traditional institutions will change in the face of the possibilities the internet provides. Shirky brings up several challenges that new institutions will have to compensate for in the future.
I tend to approach the question from the perspective of the yet unrealized potential of the web and digital technology: the unprecedentedly low cost of creating and distributing content, of organizing groups, of communicating. I see a lot that could be done with the technology but the institutional support just isn't there yet, and I wonder how and whether that will change.
In the video above Shirky makes a provocative point: with all progress there are trade-offs. We didn't have to worry about privacy in the past, because the costs of getting out information out about a given individual were prohibitively high relative to the benefits, which were basically nonexistent. Now, a ton of our conversations are written and stored in a medium that is nearly costless to replicate endlessly. You never know when some throwaway comment is going to find its way back to you.
Moreover, our older institutional arrangements often had good reasons for being the way that they were. The example he provides about the university study group was fascinating. Unlike the vast majority of new media pundits who might have commented on this episode, Shirky does not simply snark about the University's inability to adapt to new technology. He argues that both sides equally misunderstood the nature of the situation. Watch the video to hear his perspective; I won't retell it here for fear of not doing it justice.
The bottom line is that there are some benefits to some of the old ways of doing things, and technology is basically going to make it impossible to keep doing it the old way. It's not clear what the new institutions that attempt to get at something like the old benefits will have to look like.
Anyway, watch the video. It's great food for thought.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
How Will Our Institutions Change?
Maybe nothing changes in what Sumner calls “the real world.” Maybe something does change: maybe, a lot. I can make a case for all three outcomes.The Vulgar Moralist is as interested in the case of Scott Sumner as I am, and we've been discussing the implications over e-mail correspondence and on our respective blogs.
-Vulgar Morality
The basic question is one that has been debated in many corners since to rise of the web: how will traditional institutions, like those in the writing, music, and academic industries be changed by the internet? Will the internet change everything, a lot, or nothing about the nature of these institutions.
A few years ago I would have said "everything" without hesitation. I've since grown more uncertain about my answer. I've come to realize that the basic nature of institutions in content industries is to attempt to maximize the profitability of the most popular writers, musicians, and artists.
In the past, a big part of this was accomplished through their role as gatekeepers of who was published or recorded at all. Since the existence of digital technology and the web strips them of this function--now anyone can put their content in a public place for nearly no cost--a lot of people, including myself, have thought that this essentially removed their relevance entirely.
Except it does not. Playing gatekeeper was only ever one part of what these institutions did; they also invested in helping polish the products and helping to promote them, two functions that will only become more important as attention becomes scarcer relative to the content available for it to be used on.
As always I must turn to Scott Sigler, who is about as close to an expert on new and old media as you will ever find. In an interview last October he discussed the difference between his experience at the small publisher Dragonmoon Press and the big publisher Crown Books. Crown had a staff of professional editors that caught not only grammatical and spelling mistakes, but even pointed out parts of the plot that contradicted one another. They put him in touch with biologists, engineers, and other specialists to help him fortify hard science and military protocols involved in his book.
There is a lot of value to these services. While it may no longer be necessary--and indeed is impossible--for the big content institutions to play gatekeeper anymore, there surely will always be a role for something like them. Even in the interconnected world we are creating, there are costs associated with taking the leap from relative popularity to the big times.
If current institutions change or are replaced by new ones that can help internet celebrities make that transition, what will they look like? How familiar will they be to those of us who grew up around the older stock? What exactly will be different about them?
I'm going to leave those questions open for now. I have thoughts, but no real answers. No one does. It's just a matter of waiting and seeing for ourselves when the time comes.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The New Community of Scholars
Professor John Nye once made the argument to me that the internet does not diminish the power of the academic journals, but in fact enhances them, because the relatively increased abundance of information also increases the value of filters. A case can be made to that end, but my instincts have always gone in another direction. Not that I believe peer-reviewed journals will disappear, though I do think that they will change.
I've always been more interested in how the openness of the internet will act to change scholarship. I've seen small examples here and there that demonstrate progress along these lines. Never, however, have I been so impressed as when I read Scott Sumner's blog anniversary post. For the section relevant to this examination, skip way down to the section entitled "Part 2: Don't ask me to become a blogger".
As someone who pays attention to the economics blogging scene, I've seen Sumner's name more and more in many different corners. I first really became aware of him when he was interviewed on EconTalk, a weekly podcast I follow. After seeing more and more mentions of him, and becoming intrigued by his ideas, I subscribed to his blog, TheMoneyIllusion.
What I did not realize until I read the anniversary post is that his rise has taken place entirely in the economics blogosphere. Moreover, that success has not necessarily translated into success in his academic career--he's continued to face rejections from journals along the way, and he believes that his university isn't even aware that he blogs.
There's something truly magnificent about what he's doing, too. Tyler Cowen and Alex Tabarrok are both brilliant and widely respected economists, but the typical Marginal Revolution posts are not very long and the more serious ones tend to be of the "food for thought" variety. On the other hand, Sumner's posts seem like they are nearly all essay length. And he apparently takes great pains to respond to nearly every comment he gets--something that I can't say I would even try if I gained the kind of active readership that he had.
Sumner has a very peculiar perspective that I won't go into the details of here, but suffice to say it isn't in the mainstream. For that reason he finds it difficult to gain an audience through the traditional channels. So he has turned his efforts towards new media, and invests a lot of time and thought into each of his posts. And it has started to pay off, at least as far as gaining an audience of his peers is concerned.
Let's step back for a moment. There are many pieces to this story. On the one hand, Sumner is using new media to circumvent traditional channels. On the other hand, I doubt he would have received as much attention as he has were it not for the fact that his credentials have been verified through traditional institutions--he is a tenured professor of economics at Bentley University. Sure, it's not Harvard--but he has academic credentials.
Returning to Professor Nye's point told at the beginning of the post, I agree that filters are more important now than they have ever been. But I think that, for instance, who people like Tyler Cowen or Paul Krugman are willing to talk about, even (in the case of the latter) if it is to vehemently disagree, is a kind of filter. Scholars that rise to prominence through their public discussions act as our filters in who they give their attention to and who they do not.
Scholars have always formed communities of interest one way or another. In Sumner's post I felt I saw a glimpse of the future, of the character of the new communities that scholars will form as more of them embrace the cloud as a place to conduct their discussions in an open and public manner.
One final thought: Sumner argues that spending as much time as he does on blogging has not been good for his career, because it's time he could have used to polish his manuscript or work at getting into journals. Five years from now, I wonder if he'll still think it was bad for his career. When someone becomes prominent enough in new media, it tends to work out well for them eventually, even if only indirectly.
I've always been more interested in how the openness of the internet will act to change scholarship. I've seen small examples here and there that demonstrate progress along these lines. Never, however, have I been so impressed as when I read Scott Sumner's blog anniversary post. For the section relevant to this examination, skip way down to the section entitled "Part 2: Don't ask me to become a blogger".
As someone who pays attention to the economics blogging scene, I've seen Sumner's name more and more in many different corners. I first really became aware of him when he was interviewed on EconTalk, a weekly podcast I follow. After seeing more and more mentions of him, and becoming intrigued by his ideas, I subscribed to his blog, TheMoneyIllusion.
What I did not realize until I read the anniversary post is that his rise has taken place entirely in the economics blogosphere. Moreover, that success has not necessarily translated into success in his academic career--he's continued to face rejections from journals along the way, and he believes that his university isn't even aware that he blogs.
There's something truly magnificent about what he's doing, too. Tyler Cowen and Alex Tabarrok are both brilliant and widely respected economists, but the typical Marginal Revolution posts are not very long and the more serious ones tend to be of the "food for thought" variety. On the other hand, Sumner's posts seem like they are nearly all essay length. And he apparently takes great pains to respond to nearly every comment he gets--something that I can't say I would even try if I gained the kind of active readership that he had.
Sumner has a very peculiar perspective that I won't go into the details of here, but suffice to say it isn't in the mainstream. For that reason he finds it difficult to gain an audience through the traditional channels. So he has turned his efforts towards new media, and invests a lot of time and thought into each of his posts. And it has started to pay off, at least as far as gaining an audience of his peers is concerned.
Let's step back for a moment. There are many pieces to this story. On the one hand, Sumner is using new media to circumvent traditional channels. On the other hand, I doubt he would have received as much attention as he has were it not for the fact that his credentials have been verified through traditional institutions--he is a tenured professor of economics at Bentley University. Sure, it's not Harvard--but he has academic credentials.
Returning to Professor Nye's point told at the beginning of the post, I agree that filters are more important now than they have ever been. But I think that, for instance, who people like Tyler Cowen or Paul Krugman are willing to talk about, even (in the case of the latter) if it is to vehemently disagree, is a kind of filter. Scholars that rise to prominence through their public discussions act as our filters in who they give their attention to and who they do not.
Scholars have always formed communities of interest one way or another. In Sumner's post I felt I saw a glimpse of the future, of the character of the new communities that scholars will form as more of them embrace the cloud as a place to conduct their discussions in an open and public manner.
One final thought: Sumner argues that spending as much time as he does on blogging has not been good for his career, because it's time he could have used to polish his manuscript or work at getting into journals. Five years from now, I wonder if he'll still think it was bad for his career. When someone becomes prominent enough in new media, it tends to work out well for them eventually, even if only indirectly.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Will The Kindle Survive?
The recent release of a certain Apple product has people talking about whether or not the Kindle specifically is threatened. Before this, my interest was peaked by the claim of Engadget's Joshua Topolsky that dedicated devices like e-readers were a losing bet in the long run. Months ago I also took an interest in Scott Sigler's argument that mobile phones were going to be the platform that authors needed to get on. He emphasized that they should definitely be sure to get on e-readers as well, but mobile phones are already a much bigger deal.
It's a question of general use devices and how much they edge out dedicated devices. I'm not sure that I agree with Topolsky's conclusion; I think the outcome is a lot more indeterminate.
Take the specific case of the written word. It's true that the better computers and cell phones get at displaying it in a pleasing way, the more of it we're going to do on them rather than elsewhere. After all, it's just more convenient to do your reading on the device that you're already going to for so many other things.
On the other hand, just because we do a greater percentage of our reading on a general use device, doesn't mean that everyone will want to do all of it there. For one thing, as general use devices improve, dedicated devices won't be standing still; they'll be getting better as well. For another, there may be specific kinds of written works that are just easier to handle on a dedicated device. Say, an enormously long text book or the mountain of journal articles one has to read for class.
On top of that, I think there will be people who are intensive enough readers that they find it worthwhile to have a dedicated device. After all, if one of the components of their computer or smartphone fails on them, then they won't be able to access their reading material. In a way just relying on general use devices leaves you less diversified. Buying a whole other general use device in order to hedge against that is sort of excessive; so get dedicated devices for the kinds of content that matter the most to you might be more of the way to go.
So I don't know about the fate of the Kindle specifically, but I think that dedicated readers and similar devices are here to stay.
It's a question of general use devices and how much they edge out dedicated devices. I'm not sure that I agree with Topolsky's conclusion; I think the outcome is a lot more indeterminate.
Take the specific case of the written word. It's true that the better computers and cell phones get at displaying it in a pleasing way, the more of it we're going to do on them rather than elsewhere. After all, it's just more convenient to do your reading on the device that you're already going to for so many other things.
On the other hand, just because we do a greater percentage of our reading on a general use device, doesn't mean that everyone will want to do all of it there. For one thing, as general use devices improve, dedicated devices won't be standing still; they'll be getting better as well. For another, there may be specific kinds of written works that are just easier to handle on a dedicated device. Say, an enormously long text book or the mountain of journal articles one has to read for class.
On top of that, I think there will be people who are intensive enough readers that they find it worthwhile to have a dedicated device. After all, if one of the components of their computer or smartphone fails on them, then they won't be able to access their reading material. In a way just relying on general use devices leaves you less diversified. Buying a whole other general use device in order to hedge against that is sort of excessive; so get dedicated devices for the kinds of content that matter the most to you might be more of the way to go.
So I don't know about the fate of the Kindle specifically, but I think that dedicated readers and similar devices are here to stay.
Closed and Open: Where is the Innovation Happening?
I used to be something of an open source missionary, but three years after going over to Ubuntu on my laptop I've come to a lot more moderate position on the matter. The practical experience of the strengths and weaknesses of what's currently available, coupled with my ongoing education in economics, have left me with more questions than answers these days. I've come to believe that open source represents just one end in a spectrum of approaches to software, each with its own trade-offs.
What I'm interested in is where the really exciting experimentation and innovation is going on. My problems with Ubuntu have never really been bugs or anything like that. It's that they never seem to be on the frontier of new tools and UI. It seems to me that a lot of the pioneering new software is closed source, or not entirely open.
Take Palm's WebOS as an example. It runs on the open source Linux kernel, so it clearly reaps the benefits of the open source approach to a certain extent. The innovative aspects of the operating system are not its kernel or architecture, though. It is it's fantastic UI and how it handles multitasking, which is totally proprietary.
Then there's Google's Android smartphone operating system, which is basically their Linux distribution and totally open source. Since it is open source, handset makers and carriers have the option of doing their own thing without Google branding associated with it. To get them on board, Google entices them with ad revenue sharing agreements. In order to get the Google branding, however, they have to pay a license fee on Google's app suite--so they pay for the development costs of the open source operating system by licensing closed source software.
I don't mean to be too hard on open source here. I'm still a huge fan of it; my laptop still runs Ubuntu and my netbook runs Jolicloud. I just don't think it's ever a good idea to get ideological about these things. Open source software has its place. By having a continually improving common stock of code that is available for anyone to make use of, it significantly reduces the cost of making new software. To return to the WebOS example, a company like Palm that was strapped for cash didn't have to start from scratch when developing their brand new operating system.
Nor do I mean to imply that open source software is never at the cutting edge. In my opinion, the most exciting browser on the market right now is the completely open source Google Chrome. It has the smoothest and most practical UI implementation, hands down.
For some time I simply thought that being closed source was a serious flaw, but I no longer think that that's the case. I think in the long run open source software can be put to more use by more people, but that doesn't diminish the usefulness of the closed source software that is available to me right now. Moreover, I think it would be impossible to see the direction that technology is heading without taking note of the really groundbreaking closed source products out there.
What I'm interested in is where the really exciting experimentation and innovation is going on. My problems with Ubuntu have never really been bugs or anything like that. It's that they never seem to be on the frontier of new tools and UI. It seems to me that a lot of the pioneering new software is closed source, or not entirely open.
Take Palm's WebOS as an example. It runs on the open source Linux kernel, so it clearly reaps the benefits of the open source approach to a certain extent. The innovative aspects of the operating system are not its kernel or architecture, though. It is it's fantastic UI and how it handles multitasking, which is totally proprietary.
Then there's Google's Android smartphone operating system, which is basically their Linux distribution and totally open source. Since it is open source, handset makers and carriers have the option of doing their own thing without Google branding associated with it. To get them on board, Google entices them with ad revenue sharing agreements. In order to get the Google branding, however, they have to pay a license fee on Google's app suite--so they pay for the development costs of the open source operating system by licensing closed source software.
I don't mean to be too hard on open source here. I'm still a huge fan of it; my laptop still runs Ubuntu and my netbook runs Jolicloud. I just don't think it's ever a good idea to get ideological about these things. Open source software has its place. By having a continually improving common stock of code that is available for anyone to make use of, it significantly reduces the cost of making new software. To return to the WebOS example, a company like Palm that was strapped for cash didn't have to start from scratch when developing their brand new operating system.
Nor do I mean to imply that open source software is never at the cutting edge. In my opinion, the most exciting browser on the market right now is the completely open source Google Chrome. It has the smoothest and most practical UI implementation, hands down.
For some time I simply thought that being closed source was a serious flaw, but I no longer think that that's the case. I think in the long run open source software can be put to more use by more people, but that doesn't diminish the usefulness of the closed source software that is available to me right now. Moreover, I think it would be impossible to see the direction that technology is heading without taking note of the really groundbreaking closed source products out there.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
My Extended Memory
There's only so much that any one human being can hope to remember, in day to day life and in the course of their lifetime. Personally I can remember less than most, on my own. Fortunately for me, I was born in the era of technology and the internet.
I have been a fan of delicious as one tool for helping me in this department for years. In-browser bookmarks are constrained by the fact that it becomes incredibly cumbersome to save too many of them. Delicious' solution is simple and effective. You save all your bookmarks to your account on their servers, and then tag each bookmark with one word keywords to help you find it again easily. All it takes is one or two keywords that you're likely to remember to ensure that you'll be able to locate a bookmark later on even if you end up saving thousands.
I've managed to get a lot out of the service. As of the time of this writing, I have 1,397 bookmarks with 4,609 tags attributed to them. If I want to share a Penny Arcade comic I remember finding particularly funny, it doesn't take me long to locate it if I bookmarked it. If I want to write about Wikipedia, I can always go back to the Wired article that convinced me of its merit.
I have a lot more tools for remembering than just delicious. One of the great things I've learned about Google Reader, where I look at my feed subscriptions, is that all of the items that have been posted to the feeds I follow since I subscribed to them are totally searchable. So if I remember reading something recently that I didn't bother to bookmark, odds are I read it on Google Reader and I'll be able to find it again quickly with a search.
Gmail is similarly fantastic for the search function it has built in. I also am very active in the chat function, and it's excellent to be able to find old conversations again later.
Evernote is increasingly becoming an important part of my extended memory, because of the fact that it has an application for the Palm Pre. The ability to save little notes and pictures on the fly that sync with my online account is great, as is the ability to save notes online that I know will sync to my phone.
So actually, when you take into account everything beyond the meager capacity that biology has afforded me, I have a great memory.
I have been a fan of delicious as one tool for helping me in this department for years. In-browser bookmarks are constrained by the fact that it becomes incredibly cumbersome to save too many of them. Delicious' solution is simple and effective. You save all your bookmarks to your account on their servers, and then tag each bookmark with one word keywords to help you find it again easily. All it takes is one or two keywords that you're likely to remember to ensure that you'll be able to locate a bookmark later on even if you end up saving thousands.
I've managed to get a lot out of the service. As of the time of this writing, I have 1,397 bookmarks with 4,609 tags attributed to them. If I want to share a Penny Arcade comic I remember finding particularly funny, it doesn't take me long to locate it if I bookmarked it. If I want to write about Wikipedia, I can always go back to the Wired article that convinced me of its merit.
I have a lot more tools for remembering than just delicious. One of the great things I've learned about Google Reader, where I look at my feed subscriptions, is that all of the items that have been posted to the feeds I follow since I subscribed to them are totally searchable. So if I remember reading something recently that I didn't bother to bookmark, odds are I read it on Google Reader and I'll be able to find it again quickly with a search.
Gmail is similarly fantastic for the search function it has built in. I also am very active in the chat function, and it's excellent to be able to find old conversations again later.
Evernote is increasingly becoming an important part of my extended memory, because of the fact that it has an application for the Palm Pre. The ability to save little notes and pictures on the fly that sync with my online account is great, as is the ability to save notes online that I know will sync to my phone.
So actually, when you take into account everything beyond the meager capacity that biology has afforded me, I have a great memory.
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