Thursday, November 15, 2012

Born to Run - Overheard on the Anacortes/Friday Harbor Ferry

Please, no running!

Why?

You might hurt yourself.

No I won't. Is it because you can't run?

I used to run when I was your age.

Did you hurt yourself?

Yes, I did.

I won't hurt myself.

Don't run or I will have to spank your bottom.

Is that how you got hurt, you ran and your daddy spanked you?

No. I fell down.

If I promise not to fall down, can I run?

You can't promise that.

Yes I can, I promise.

Why do you want to run so much?

Because it's fun. Didn't you think it was fun when you were a little kid?

Yes.

But you fell down and hurt yourself.

Yes.

Do you ever wish you could run now?

Yes.

Are you crying?

No.

Yes you are. Why are you crying?

Because I want to run.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Slicing and Dicing

Mitt Romney is the President of white male America.
-- Maureen Dowd, New York Times Columnist

Amid the post-Presidential election head shaking, while analysts are slicing the electorate into statistical racial, ethnic and economic slivers to try to determine why Americans voted the way they did . . . I noted the passing of a man who incited a major and discomfiting political debate over the real differences between racial and ethnic groups. 

Arthur Jensen died just a few days before the 2012 Presidential election at the age of 89. He was the University of California, Berkeley, psychology professor best known for his efforts to prove that the average member of some ethnic groups come into the world equipped with less “general intelligence” than the members of other ethnic groups, including whites.
In his book, Straight Talk about Mental Tests he enumerated two of his tenets:

(1) In human populations there is a well-recognized trait that can be called general mental ability or intelligence, in which differences among persons can be measured with a fair degree of accuracy by appropriate tests (often called IQ tests);

(2) Observed differences among persons in this trait are largely attributable to genetic inheritance.


He did not include in the enumeration another of his conclusions, but neither did he back away from it: Because the average IQ scores of some minority groups – including African Americans and Hispanics – are measurably lower than whites and Asians, most members of those ethnic groups are born with less mental ability than whites and Asians.
In 1980, I spent an uncomfortable 15 minutes on live television interviewing Professor Jensen after the publication of his most ambitious book, Bias in Mental Testing. In the book, Jensen phrased his conclusions carefully and narrowly, wrapping them in 786 of pages of statistical analysis and complex calculations that were virtually incomprehensible to the average reader. But a good portion of the popular press and some groups with questionable agendas grabbed hold of Jensen's conclusions and ran with them. Period. Too bad. Deal with it minority people, you can't fight science.

Jensen's argument was seductive in its mathematical complexity. There is no debate about his statement that African-Americans and Hispanics consistently have lower average scores on certain sections of standardized tests than other groups, including people with Northern European and Asian ancestors. But he set off fireworks by resurrecting a theory and terminology created by psychologist Charles Spearman in 1905, concluding that the statistical clusters of test scores within ethnic groups are an accurate measure of the group's hereditary mental capacity.

In our televised interview, Jensen spent much time emphasizing the dangers of reading too much into his conclusions. Unfortunately, too much time was spent parsing words, and I'm afraid the interview generated very little heat or light. But on paper, though the mathematics strewn throughout his book is intimidating, Jensen's conclusions are comfortably simple and intuitive.

The outcome of an IQ test is straightforward – a single number that is meant to represent a person's innate mental capacity. It's a number that can and has been used to compare one person's mental worth to others. The best schools, the best opportunities are often made available to those with the highest numbers.
The use of numbers to quantify intelligence is hardly new. Even before the development of standardized tests, intelligence researchers devised formulas that ranked innate mental capacity based on the physical size of the brain. Looking at those numbers, researchers deduced that women could never be expected to function at the same intellectual level as men.

In 1903, statistical researcher LĂ©once Manouvrier described the effect those numbers had on the debate about women's place in society:“Women displayed their talents and their diplomas. They also invoked philosophical authorities. But they were opposed by numbers. . . . These numbers fell upon poor women like a sledge hammer . . . Theologians had once asked if women had a soul. Several centuries later some scientists were ready to refuse them a human intelligence.”

In first four decades of the 20th century, American developers of “I.Q.” tests had an overt political agenda. Their test results were used in a successful campaign to get the U.S. Congress to tighten immigration quotas to keep the country's gene pool from being polluted by ethnic and racial groups with a hereditary lack of intelligence. Among those excluded because of their limited intelligence, as demonstrated by I.Q. tests, were Jews and Asians. That policy had tragic implications for many Jews seeking refuge from the Holocaust during World War II. There is bitter irony in the fact that Jews and Asians are among the groups with the highest average “general intelligence” scores on today's standardized tests.

Until I began preparing for the interview with Professor Jensen, I had never given serious thought to the question Jensen's research and writings brought to the forefront: Can we rely on modern intelligence tests to tell us something useful about a group of people? Professor Jensen, in claiming the thing standardized tests measure to be innate “general intelligence” implies the answer is yes.

But can it be used at a group level to predict performance or success in school, work, or life in general?
In a report sponsored by the Ralph Nader's organization, author Allan Nairn produced data showing that the results of standardized Scholastic Aptitude Tests (the “SAT”) had a higher correlation with the household income of a test-taker's parents than with future academic success. In fact, parental income turned out to be a better predictor of how well an individual will do on standardized tests than ethnicity.

In a 2009 paper entitled, “Reflections on a Century of College Admission Tests*,” former University of California President Richard Atkinson and Saul Geiser of UC-Berkley's Center for Studies in Higher Education concluded simply, “High-school grades are the best indicator of student readiness for college, and standardized tests are useful primarily as a supplement to the high school record.”

Still, psychologists and social scientists are uncomfortable dealing with criteria where they can't control all of the variables. Some schools have higher standards than others, some schools offer more activities, and some teachers pack their grade books with A's, others with C's and D's.

In theory, a person making hiring or college admission decisions based on standardized test scores should be bias-free because the decision-maker's mind is uncluttered with biases about whether the owner of an individual score is black, white, Asian or Latino; rich or poor, short or tall, attractive or homely. The flaw in that theory is, the test itself seems to have a good general idea about which groups a test-taker belongs to.

In their paper Atkinson and Geiser cited a study of admission applications for the University of California that found when UC applicants were ranked by SAT scores, only half as many Latino, African-American and American Indian students appeared in the top third of the applicant pool as when the same students were arranged by high school grades. Whatever their other virtues, standardized tests appear to put some racial and ethnic groups at a competitive disadvantage not supported by other criteria.

In The Mismeasure of Man, Harvard biologist Stephen Jay Gould observed that, historically, efforts to rank intelligence by group “invariably find that oppressed and disadvantaged groups – races, classes, or sexes-- are innately inferior and deserve their status.”

If Jensen had called his statistical clusters something like “ethnic\racial testing differential” his work would likely have been largely ignored outside of the testing community because it would have been considered a characteristic of the test. But calling it “general intelligence” assigns the characteristic to an entire, identifiable group of people, providing a reason to regard that group as qualitatively different from the norm.

Leaping back to the subject of electoral politics, remember the 47 percent of all Americans who were characterized as “takers”? Pundits have spent much of their post-Presidential election energy defining individual ethnic groups by how they voted. Certainly, common attitudes within an ethnic group is a valid thing to study, but I would suggest that we not allow ourselves to become distracted from looking at the most obvious characteristic that defined the largest group of voters in the 2012 general election: They favored a politically moderate President and rejected candidates who were on the extreme fringe of the political spectrum.

As analysts and statisticians sort individuals into narrower and narrower groups, I like to keep in mind one characteristic we all share. When things go wrong and it's fight or flight time, we instinctively divide the people around us into just two groups: Us and them.
This year, Republican strategist Karl Rove discovered how costly it can be to use the wrong criteria to define us.


Saturday, November 10, 2012

Metaphorically Speaking

The latest word from sub-atomic physicists is that everything in the universe is made up of tiny strings vibrating in 10 dimensions. 

Actually, that's not what they mean any more than Robert Burns meant his love was “like a red, red, rose” or George Orwell literally thought “advertising is the rattling of a stick inside a swill bucket” – it's a metaphor.

Physicists create metaphors (they call them models) to describe or predict the behavior of things they can't see. String Theory is just physicists' latest attempt to explain why little bitty stuff seems to behave differently than big stuff. Apparently the math says that if everything is made of dancing strings, it's okay if some things appear to behave erratically and be in more than one place at the same time – how many of us have not observed that very phenomenon on a human scale in a disco?

For politicians, there's an unfortunate danger in using metaphors because it's easy for pundits to take cheap shots by simply pointing out that a metaphorical statement isn't literally true. (If they were literally true, they wouldn't be metaphors.) Political opponents had a field day with former Senator Ted Stevens's characterization of the Internet as “a series of tubes,” even though it was a pretty good way to explain how huge volumes of spam email can cause slowdowns. The techno-cognizati never refer to the Internet as "tubes". They call it a "pipe".

Scientists consider a metaphor valid as long as it predicts behavior, but a dud if anyone can cite properties or behaviors that aren't consistent with the model. The rose metaphor for Robert Burns' love doesn't really work very well. While one would expect it to turn brown and lose its petals in pretty short order, Burns contends that his love will still be going strong when the seas dry up. 

Accepting the wrong model can be, and often has been, disastrous. In the 1600's the Catholic Church's enforced acceptance of the earth-centric model of the universe caused Galileo, one of the greatest scientists in history, to spend the last 10 years of his life under house arrest, forbidden to publish any of his work. 

But the best metaphors can succinctly put things – scientific and social – into context, as Howard Cosell did when he observed: "Sports is the toy department of life." 
 
My father once stopped me cold with a metaphor when I was complaining that I couldn't catch up at my job because I was constantly having to put out (metaphorical) fires. "Perhaps the problem isn't that you are a firefighter," he said. "Perhaps the problem is that you are a pyromaniac.”

Taking a good metaphor a step further than usual can provide both humor and food for thought, as Isaac Asimov did when he observed, “Life is a journey, but don't worry, you'll find a parking spot at the end."
 
What happens when we push the String Theory metaphor a little further to see what it tells us about the nature of our creator? If the universe is made up of tiny, dancing strings, then it appears that God is a cosmic D.J., and scientists spend their lives trying to discover what's on his play list.

That works for me.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Ernest the Frog. A Mostly True Story

I once worked in a television newsroom where the assistant news director was a huge Italian guy named Benny; a stereotype that should only exist in mob films and bad sitcoms. He was the kind of guy who celebrated even the most meaningless success by shouting “Bada-bing Bada-boom!” followed by a string of sexual metaphors describing the various ways we'd humiliated the competition.

So I was surprised to see him walk into my office uncharacteristically subdued one day. He shook his massive head and said, “Doesn't anyone around here have a sense of humor?”

“Whoever gave you that necktie does,” I said. I've never been good at comforting people.
“I was just kidding with Jake – told him I'd can him if he told another Italian joke. Before I could say, badda bing badda boom, he was on the phone and had the shop steward headed down to file a grievance. It was just a joke for God's sake!”

“Ya know,” I said, “It would have been funny if you threatened to fire me because you can't fire me. But it's not funny when you make a threat you can carry out.”
He looked puzzled.

 “It's like that old saying,” I said. “Boys throw stones at frogs in sport, but the frogs die not in sport, but in earnest.”*

Benny pondered that for a moment. “So you're saying Jake's the frog and I'm one of the boys?”

“No, Ernest was the frog, you're a rock.”

“So who's Jake?” he asked.

“Jake's the guy who's filing the grievance.”

I'd love to think that conversation had a long-term effect, but everyone and everything in the world of television news has a short life span. Today's screaming headlines don't even whimper tomorrow; people who were intellectuals last week are caricatures this week, and frogs die in earnest at the top and bottom of each hour.

But the lesson wasn't totally lost. Ever since that day Benny has called himself “Rocky.”

* Attributed to Bion of Borysthenes – 325 B.C.-250 B.C. It appears that the relationship between frogs and boys has changed little over the past 2200 years.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Venice has Issues

Venice is an attractive, middle-aged woman who cuts hair in an old-fashioned barber shop in Portland. She cut my hair a few months ago when I was visiting and did such a good job that I made a point of going back the next time I was in town.

When I slipped into her chair I remembered vaguely that she'd mentioned that she had a new relationship going with her postman, so I asked if her letter carrier was still making special deliveries.

She sighed and said the relationship was on hold because he had “trust issues.”

“You mean he's a jealous asshole?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said and starting snipping at my hair before she stopped herself, stepped back and asked how I wanted my hair cut. She was obviously having concentration issues.

Later that day I stepped inside a bank to report that the walk-up ATM machine wasn't working. The teller closest to the door shrugged her shoulders and said, “It's a new machine last week and it's been having issues ever since it was installed.”

So now I'm having issues with the whole issues issue. It seems like nobody confronts problems or acts badly these day, they just have issues.

Bullies have self-esteem issues. Drug addicts are burdened with dependency issues. I suppose serial killers are just dealing with life-taking issues.

Like many things, once you become sensitive to them, you start to see them everywhere. The other day I stopped into a neighborhood pub and found a nice-looking older woman named Rose holding down the stool next to me.

Rose, I quickly discovered, suffers from both “unemployed senior issues” and "latching onto strangers at bars issues”; but she was a good soul and I told her as much while I gulped my beer, then ran like a guy with "afraid to look back to see if he is being followed issues.”

I'm old enough to remember when people didn't have issues, children had disorders (“Oppositional Defiant Disorder”, “Attention Deficit\Hyperactivity Disorder”, etc.), often caused by genetic or physical problems; but adult problems without physical roots were complexes or syndromes. Post-first marriage baby-boomer men suffered from “Peter Pan Complex” and disillusioned women had a choice of either “Wendy Complex” or “Cinderella Syndrome.”

The diagnoses sounded to me like descriptions of behavior rather than symptoms of a disease, but people I knew talked as if it was because of their syndrome that they acted immature, too bossy, or had unrealistic expectations for relationships.

At the time, a psychologist friend of mine – who'd started seeing a lot of clients suffering from dysfunctions with Disney character names – told me he had identified a new dysfunction that he called: “Rumpelstiltskin Syndrome.” As he defined it, it is any anxiety-related condition which begins to clear up as soon as a therapist gives it a name.

I have no issue with that.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Too Many Different Kinds of Things


My favorite piece of advice for aspiring managers has always been, “Never admit that you know how to clear a jam in a photocopier.” It's something that invites even the lowliest employee to delegate grunt work to you.

It's perfectly logical, but I always enjoyed clearing my own jams, and creating my own spreadsheets, databases, and websites. When a new piece of software or hardware came into the workplace I'd always curl up with the manual until I mastered it. When a new programming language came out, I'd buy some books and take them with me camping on an isolated stretch of the Rogue River or at the fire tower overlooking the Three Sisters in central Oregon. I found it an exciting union of technology and nature.

But as time passed, my non-technical job responsibilities grew and new hardware and software started coming out faster than I could learn it; printed manuals disappeared, and instructions started being given in pay-to-play “webinars” -- a bastard of a word if ever there was one. Still, I hate not knowing how to take something apart and put it back together – at least in theory.

I remember attending a panel discussion where several great minds debated the relative merits of scientists having broad general knowledge versus in-depth command of a narrow area of study. The moment in that discussion which stands out in my memory came when one of the participants quoted a British academic chiding a confused colleague by saying, “The trouble with you sir, is you know too many different kinds of the things.

The trouble with having too much technical knowledge is that it's tempting to spend your time clearing jams in copy machines instead of creating content, programming spreadsheets instead of running a business, or learning a new computing device instead of writing the great American novel. 

When I had a business that created custom software, I found that the hardest part wasn't writing the program, it was figuring out what the client wanted to do. It wasn't unusual to be in the initial meeting and have someone say, “What we need is a form with two drop-down boxes, a set of check boxes and a button . . .”

After the fourth or fifth time I confronted that kind of thing I started interrupting with, “Before we start talking how we're going to feed this thing, tell me what you want to come out of its ass end.” Often, it would take hours to figure out what the client really wanted, because they had been so focused on the tools rather than tasks.

If I had to divide people into two categories I would say there are: (1) Technicians – people who are fascinated with tools, and (2) Architects – people with a vision that cannot become reality without the use of tools. (There are also politicians, but I'll deal with them another time.)

Technicians always have the coolest toys and the best home entertainment centers, but most people's eyes glaze over as soon as they start talking.

Architects tend to do well at cocktail parties, but you can't sleep in a castle built of dreams.
The real danger of being too much the architect and too little the technician is falling prey to technicians who believe their ability to control the plumbing is a license to control the creative forces in society.
Several years ago I had a client who returned from a professional association conference with the pronouncement, “I'm convinced that within five years our whole business will be Internet-driven.”

I asked, “So what's driving it now? Telephones? Fax Machines?”

The Internet is, of course, just a data delivery system. Like airports and highways, it enables things to move around, but doesn't drive anything.

A pure technician sees a tool and looks for a problem it can solve. The danger in that is, as psychologist Abraham Maslow observed, “If the only thing in your toolbox is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
A pure architects sees a problem, thinks up a solution, then tries to find tools that will fit the solution. Architects and technicians need each other, but while an architect's hands may be on the steering wheel, technicians control the throttle and the brakes.

To offer a first-hand example: In the county government I work for there's an ongoing struggle for control of the budget between the elected official that controls the accounting software that holds the budget data and the appointed official to whom the county charter delegates responsibility for making budget decisions.
The appointed official can hold his breath until he turns blue, but nothing gets entered into the budget program until the independent department head approves. The result has been the creation of a parallel budgeting system – which, of course – adds another technical gatekeeper into mix.

How does one find a balance between the dreamers and the keepers of the tools?

Please don't look to me for an easy answer. I'm afraid that I know too many different kinds of things.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

The Empty Page

It's been so long since I've put words on paper,
that I'm afraid that my words may have
become bored with me and fled to younger
more energetic minds.

I see young men and women
that look like children to me,
producing plays,
creating songs,
writing parody and farce;
with the thoughts and
restless lust for life
that I once owned, as if
I'd let them go for pennies
at a yard sale.

Writing is scribbling on a page
until the scribbles map
a corner of the writer's soul.

An empty page is
an unforgiving mirror.