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Category: innovation

We don’t know how to collaborate through the network

Sharepoint is the collaboration model for Microsoft Office. It’s meant to save Office, because we work with teams, and teams are supposed to collaborate. But the problem is that we don’t know how to collaborate. Google has just launched Sites to provide a collaboration portal for Google’s business apps. But the fact remains, that most workers barely know how to operate the basic apps in Office. It’s one of the reasons that Google’s apps have a chance, they do less, but in many cases that’s enough.

There are many wonderful Wikis out there, but the best ones have a strong culture of collaboration. The form a social network with thier own customs. Corporate America doesn’t particularly like to collaborate in any deep sense. Sharepoint is used as just a slightly better version of email and shared network drives.

Considering all the money spent building applications in this space, you’d think it was fairly assured that the future state where we all collaborate is just around the corner. It may be a moment that never comes. Collaboration on a network is a culture, a social relation, something that requires practice. Most of the collaboration in business happens through people talking or through email, not much at all happens through the network. You’d think we’d be much better at collaborating with work than at play, but the reverse is true.

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Preserving the random with coarse-grained filters in Twitter

One of the frustrations people have with Twitter is its simplicity. Twitter is an authoring environment for hypertext limited to 140 characters and a method of publishing and subscribing to an almost unlimited combination of social graphs. It achieves some complexity through its API, which allows it to be mashed up with other applications. In this sense it adheres to David Weinberger’s idea of “small pieces loosely joined.”

Twitter’s simplicity means the barrier to getting started is very low, register an identity, type 140 characters and click “update.” Understanding the value of Twitter doesn’t come until later. Non-users and new users can’t actually experience Twitter. The public timeline is there as an example, but to generalize and form opinions based on this evidence would lead one solidly in the wrong direction. The public timeline could potentially be decoded, but it’s a task very similar to spending time with Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker, Anna Livia Plurabelle and dream logic of Finnegan’s Wake. Or as James Joyce put it: Here comes everybody.

Veteran users of Twitter experience something very different from the public timeline. And it’s those regular users who begin to long for more controls, more features to help them refine their Twitter experience. Generally this is expressed through a desire to configure and define groups within the larger pools of the followed and the followers. By concisely defining groups a Twitter user could get exactly what she wanted.

But getting “exactly what you want” is exactly what you don’t want. Fine grained controls and filters are generally used to focus on common interests and concerns. The result is pre-defining the message flow you receive, creating an echo chamber. Random and negative feedback have an important role the health and stability of any dynamic organic system. When Twitter only brings you what you expect, it loses its value.

Twitter will grow new features, all applications do. But what if, rather than think in terms of precision, exactness and clarity; we thought of coarseness, randomness and ambiguity. What kind of coarse grained filters would preserve the random in a users Twitter stream? The seed for this rumination was inspired by a conversation on @Newsgang Live about squelch as metaphor for filtering Twitter streams. Imagine filtering the stream based on frequency of tweets, or location of tweets. By tuning into quadrants of the Twitterverse with coarse-grained filters new voices could be discovered. So often we think in terms of signal versus noise, but when we think of noise perhaps we should take a lesson, and listen with the zen ears of John Cage.

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The Buddhist Economics of @NewsGang Live: To Live Outside the Law You must be Honest

Radio

I listen to this daily radio show that suddenly appeared on the network. It was unannounced in any general media, but has already developed a national and international following in its short life. Its topics range from technology and product strategy, to the latest gadgets, to politics, comedy, and even some occasional drama. It’s not part of a national syndicated media network, it doesn’t seem to have venture capital backing, and it only accidentally has advertising. Actually it’s not even broadcast over the airwaves— although one can listen to it live. I get it through iTunes and listen on my iPhone, although the other day I listened by clicking on an MP3 file on a web page. It’s compelling radio, I try not to miss a day.

This show has a roundtable format more common to television political commentary shows, or technical conferences. It’s pundit talk, or as they sometimes call it “reckless punditry.” Because the show has no advertisers and isn’t part of any network, it’s an open forum. The guests aren’t compensated, they show up because they want to be part of the conversation about what’s going on right now. A point of reference would be Bill Maher’s HBO talk show, Real Time. Although the differences between Maher’s show and this one are significant, the show is unscripted, improvisational, really more of a jam session. The show’s host often compares the structure of the show to a small jazz ensemble. In this sense, it’s a new form of editorial composition.

Initially the show’s roundtable was composed solely of well-known technology industry figures. The conversation occurs over a conference call with the participants scattered all over the country. They call in from airports, their cars, while on an exercise treadmills, in their home or regular offices, or just out walking around. The show’s format changed profoundly during a particularly chaotic episode. One of the participants in the panel posted the call in number and conference code to Twitter, and uninvited participants started calling in. Imagine watching an episode of Washington Week In Review where interested members of the audience simply joined the panel at will. This potentially destructive moment became the seed of something new. It connected a filtered live social web, via Twitter, to the show’s jazz-based conversation. To extend the metaphor, some unknown out-of-town musicians were sitting in. There’s an etiquette to jamming and sitting in, and it’s up to the band leader to make it all work and blend.

The show was transformed and a new format emerged where some of the regular pundits were joined by members of the audience in a new kind of conversation. There’s a distinction between this and traditional call-in newstalk radio. Let’s go back to the jazz metaphor, when an audience member is called on to solo, they’re expected to jump in and wail. A point of reference here would be Dave Winer’s idea of the “unconference.” In technology conferences, the sum total of knowledge in the audience exceeds that of the panel of speakers. The unconference attempts to surface the knowledge, ideas and opinions of an interested group through a moderator. The composition of the group and the skill of the moderator are determining factors in the quality of the output.

There are a lot of interesting threads generated by the format of this daily radio show. But the starting point for my thoughts was connecting the show’s low-cost mashup production methodology with a phrase used by the musician Robert Fripp. After disbanding King Crimson in 1974, Fripp wanted to create music within “small, mobile, independent, intelligent units.” Working with Brian Eno, Fripp had created a performing and recording technique called Frippertronics that he believed would allow him to do significant work outside of the big rock band / recording industry context. The idea of small, mobile, independent, intelligent units is also linked to the ideas of E.F. Schumacher and his book “Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered.”

Schumacher also referred to his thinking as “Buddhist Economics.” Here’s a quote that explains what that might mean:

It is clear, therefore, that Buddhist economics must be very different from the economics of modern materialism, since the Buddhist sees the essence of civilization not in the multiplication of wants but in the purification of human character.

All economic systems are built on fundamental metaphysical ideas about what a person should want and achieve in this life. The concept of Buddhist economics came from studying economies of small villages in Burma in 1955. Schumacher published his essay “Buddhist Economics” in 1966.

This radio program doesn’t have any visible economics which is a constant source of concern for the show’s participants and its audience. While its production costs are low, with no revenue generated, a negative cash flow situation is implied. This is conjecture based on an external view with no inside knowledge. In the culture and economics of Silicon Valley small isn’t beautiful, scalability is beautiful. The venture capitalists on Sand Hill Road don’t fund small. This begs the question: Is there a global, networked, small village Buddhist economics that could support this radio show so that it could continue to thrive? And can something like this show thrive, not in abundance, but in enoughness?

The other question that surfaces is that of sustainability. Is it actually of any importance for this radio show to continue on for years and years? The after-hours jam sessions at Minton’s didn’t go on forever. Those who witnessed Bird, Monk and Pres engaging in late night cutting contests heard the sound of lightning in a bottle. Perhaps it’s enough that this kind of a radio show can emerge when we need it, a kind of “just-in-time” culture.

By the way, the host of this show? He’s the guy who said “links are dead.”

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The Google Cloud is Dead, Now Where’s My Data? Toward Data Liquidity…

dollars

We tend to think that certain things will be around forever. Brands we love, bull markets and governments all act as though they will continue indefinitely. Dominance intends that its dominance persist, but everything comes to an end. If all your personal data lived in Google’s cloud, what happens when Google goes out of business? How are you going to get your data out? Is cloud-based computing being built with the assumption that all of the players will exist forever? The more locked in your data is to proprietary formats, the less liquid it is.

Money, cash in particular, has become data; and the speed with which it can move and transform defines its liquidity. How liquid is our personal data? Those financial institutions that custody our financial assets cooperate so that we can move our holdings from one institution to another. How do the web institutions that custody our personal data measure up?

Marc Canter has talked about having a “DeBabelizer” for personal data. That’s a tool we used in the old days to translate graphic file formats to work with our local platform and toolset. It was essential in the days before consolidation and cross-platform graphic software. The prospect of having to unscramble my personal data is not comforting. The only reason to have a DeBabelizer is that one is surrounded by Babel.

Movements like data portability are largely a matter of metaphors and memes. The technology has to be very simple to actually work. The extent to which the meme is highly contagious within the general user population is the extent of the movement’s success. My contribution to the conversation is to measure the liquidity of personal data. For instance, I can imagine trading liquidity for higher value. But I’d like to know when I’m entering into that contract.

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