Skip to content →

Author: cgerrish

Unemployed philosopher

Ana Marie Cox’s Pie Charts and The Other Shoe

Ana Marie Cox Coverage Pie Chart

I’ve enjoyed reading Ana Marie Cox’s tweets and posts from the campaign trail these past few months. Ana does a great job of showing us what it’s like to be on the bus, or on the plane with the candidate. While her work for Time Magazine is interesting, I found her pie chart on how a journalist spends time on the campaign trail to be one of her most revealing missives. Is being there really being there? Is it proximity or access that really matters in doing journalism?  How much time does a journalist really get to spend with a candidate– per 24 hour period, how much journalism really goes on?

Perhaps politicans need a Regulation FD, something like the disclosure requirements for public companies. Here’s how Wikipedia describes the regulation:

The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission‘s (SEC’s) Regulation Fair Disclosure, also commonly referred to as Regulation FD or Reg FD was an SEC ruling implemented in October 2000 ([1]). It mandated that all publicly traded companies must disclose material information to all investors at the same time.

The regulation sought to stamp out selective disclosure, in which some investors (often large institutional investors) received market moving information before others (often smaller, individual investors).

If politicians are public servants, perhaps it makes sense to regulate transparancy and fairness in their public communications the same way we do with public companies. Regulation FD is meant to combat information asymetry in the stock market. Selective disclosure results in some investors having better and more complete information with which to judge trading opportunities. The system of journalism we have now requires both proximity and access to get the story. With that kind of scarcity implicit in the information exchange, there are lots of power plays and games that go on. The analogy to financial markets is quite exact. Large institutional investors had better access, could trade soft dollars or other favors for information that resulted in advantaged trading opportunities. Our big media companies have that same relationship with political candidates.

On July 30, 2008 the SEC provided guidance on the role of Blogs, RSS and other Network-based communications in compliance with Reg FD. Public companies may use blogs and feeds to release material information in place of, or in addition to, the traditional wire services and conference calls. While this is currently a description of one-way communication, it’s well known that the Network is a two-way medium. It’s only a matter of time before the other shoe drops.

A man comes in late at night to a lodging house, rather the worse for wear. He sits on his bed, drags one shoe off and drops it on the floor. Guiltily remembering everyone around him trying to sleep, he takes the other one off much more carefully and quietly puts in on the floor. He then finishes undressing and gets into bed. Just as he is drifting off to sleep, a shout comes from the man in the room below: “Well, drop the other one then! I can’t sleep, waiting for you to drop the other shoe!�.

Perhaps we saw a glimpse of this possible two-way future in the convergence of Twitter, Digg and CurrentTV in Kevin Rose’s recent interview with Al Gore.

A change of this magnitude in the power dynamics of access / proximity / flow will not come easily. As Dave Winer noted recently, in the recent Presidental Campaign, we didn’t really change the way news flowed. But as in the old Music Hall joke about the other shoe, if we lie awake waiting for the sound of a shoe hitting the floor — we may miss the fact that both shoes are on the floor already. As the flow of news moves from proprietary networks to the Public Network, it moves from a one-way system to a two-way system. From its inception the Web was always already a two-way medium. After all this time, we’re still in the very early stages of understanding the upstream flow.

One Comment

We Are The Hollow Men

Imagining the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. Mistah Kurtz— He dead.

The Hollow Men
Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888-1965)

MISTAH KURTZ — HE DEAD.
A penny for the Old Guy

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw.  Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us–if at all–not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

Comments closed

A Long Now Moment: James Turrell’s Roden Crater

James Turrell

Sometimes it’s important to view time in bigger chunks, to look at projects as something monumental. James Turrell’s earth work sculpture Roden Crater was started in 1979 and will be open to the public in 2011.

This silent film gives a peek inside the project. The visuals are impressive.

The Roden Crater strikes me as one of the new wonders of the world. Makes me smile that we mortals are still capable of this kind of thing.

2 Comments

Dialogues In The Floating World

Hopper\'s Nighthawks at the Diner

The locus of the conversation is the place/time where something new was revealed through a coming to terms by a group of people sitting around a table. The spatio-temporal coordinates of those tables have caused me to long for some method of time travel, a way to sit at those tables and engage in those conversations. Literature has provided me with a portal to some of those locations: the table of Gerald and Sara Murphy; the Algonquin roundtable; a late night at the carnegie deli; or in a car driving across the country with a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists.

Algonquin Round Table

The Network has changed some of the essential requirements for a conversation. A place at the table is no longer necessary– only time remains as a primary home for conversation. It’s time that now calls the tune, conversation unfolds in sequence, through the river of time across multiple real time media streams.

Remember ‘that time.’ I don’t remember all the words, or how they were strung together into sentences– or even the order of the sentences. I remember I spoke first, or was it you? But I remember ‘that time,’ I remember the ride we took. I remember the big ideas we passed by– they really made an impression. They changed the way I think about things, and therefore changed my world.

Detached from place, the conversation unfolds in a virtual space. It’s the place we all call in to. Somehow, I imagine that space without light- only sound echoing in the darkness. Without visual cues, it’s a building up another kind of give and take. It’s almost impossible for me to anticipate when you are about to speak. But after we’ve talked in that darkness a few times, we develop a sense for the music of it. The rhythms, the melodies and themes provide the pocket of the groove for the next solo to blend into.

An augmentation of the conversation occurs for the speakers when the darkness lifts and they open their eyes and view the live Network. Place returns, and it’s the Network’s space that we have in common. The visual space of the virtual conversation is an undiscovered country. We use that space to verify facts, to remember names, find support in statistics, and point to a location for later reference. As we speak, we browse and co-browse, we hunt and gather fuel for the conversation.

What of the fuel? What ignites a conversation and keeps it going? From what source does it draw its energy? There’s a point at which you can stand and watch as the future comes into being. It comes, not out of nothingness, but rather from the re-combining and re-describing of the things around us. The moment when you stop watching silently and begin to bring language into the frame, you start to understand the real usefulness of the new. The new wants explaining, it seeks language.

Nautilus Spiral

Sometimes it seems as though we’re talking in circles, never getting closer to the center of the matter. But conversations are never perfect circles, they’re always spirals. Or perhaps a circle in the sense of a hermeneutic circle:

The hermeneutic circle describes the process of understanding a text hermeneutically. It refers to the idea that one’s understanding of the text as a whole is established by reference to the individual parts and one’s understanding of each individual part by reference to the whole. Neither the whole text nor any individual part can be understood without reference to one another, and hence, it is a circle. However, this circular character of interpretation does not make it impossible to interpret a text, rather, it stresses that the meaning of text must be found within its cultural, historical, and literary context.

Our dialogues and monologues have entered a kind of floating world, detached from physical space and reattached to place within the Network. While the shape of the conversation is much the same, it is augmented by an extended access to memory. When I refer to my notes, they are infinitely deep. The danger is that we may end up simply reading to each other and lose our voice in favor of a chorus of quotation. It’s only when we color outside the lines that we uncover the new. For a truly exploratory dialogue failure isn’t an option, it’s a requirement.

2 Comments