I deleted all my tweets on 9 November 2016, the day after the election, and have just done so again. If I said something brilliant and you simply must read it again, drop me a line. I’ll be holding my breath.
I deleted all my tweets on 9 November 2016, the day after the election, and have just done so again. If I said something brilliant and you simply must read it again, drop me a line. I’ll be holding my breath.
The ‘Google guy’ was fired, which should worry anyone who cares about reasoned discourse (don’t worry, you are exempt), but since I can’t really affect Google hiring/training practices, I’ll stick to a small observation. The science about sex difference is settled, but not the way you probably think: meta-analyses of sex-difference studies going back decades suggest, unsurprisingly, that there are very large differences (link goes to Slate Star Codex) between physiological males and females in a host of areas relevant to the Google diversity discussion (e.g. people- vs thing-orientation), and very small differences in a host of areas where people might expect strong divergence.
In other words, the ‘Google guy’ wasn’t spouting pseudoscience in his ‘screed,’ he was spouting at least some actual science. If you used the word ‘pseudoscience’ to piss on him from your soapbox, consider the possibility that you have no idea what you’re talking about.
Now, I’m sticking with links to/via Scott here, because he’s good at finding/collecting the kind of analysis I’m interested in, and I’m not. Your mileage, as they say, may vary — but only if you actually hit the road.
Sidebar: Scott (SSC’s author) points out that ‘Big Five’ sex differences are magnified by increased economic prosperity. Funny. No, not actually funny.
Scott also links to a piece by Freddie deBoer (who blocked me on Twitter when I pointed out that he’d cut short his mental-health Twitter break after like a day) called ‘Why selection bias is the most powerful force in education’ and you should read it:
Tell me how your students are getting assigned to your school, and I can predict your outcomes – not perfectly, but well enough that it calls into question many of our core presumptions about how education works.
The SSC post closes with an aggressive attack on the prevailing narrative that the lack of women in Silicon Valley (or ‘tech’ writ large) is solely about entrenched sexism. Before he gets to the data, which is damning, Scott unspools a funny little rhetorical gambit:
In the year 1850, women were locked out of almost every major field, with a few exceptions like nursing and teaching. The average man of the day would have been equally confident that women were unfit for law, unfit for medicine, unfit for mathematics, unfit for linguistics, unfit for engineering, unfit for journalism, unfit for psychology, and unfit for biology. He would have had various sexist justifications – women shouldn’t be in law because it’s too competitive and high-pressure; women shouldn’t be in medicine because they’re fragile and will faint at the sight of blood; et cetera.
As the feminist movement gradually took hold, women conquered one of these fields after another. 51% of law students are now female. So are 49.8% of medical students, 45% of math majors, 60% of linguistics majors, 60% of journalism majors, 75% of psychology majors, and 60% of biology postdocs. Yet for some reason, engineering remains only about 20% female.
And everyone says “Aha! I bet it’s because of negative stereotypes!”
This makes no sense. There were negative stereotypes about everything! Somebody has to explain why the equal and greater negative stereotypes against women in law, medicine, etc were completely powerless, yet for some reason the negative stereotypes in engineering were the ones that took hold and prevented women from succeeding there…
Turns out the difficulty in getting women interested in programming kicks in by elementary school. Why is that? Hint: Scott links to the paper about prenatal androgen that you might’ve seen floating around this week.
(I’ll add a bit of handwavey, marginal speculation: it’s also worth looking specifically at differences in TV/videogame interest in very young kids; the videogame revolution does seem to correlate with the moment the undergrad CS enrollment starting tilting heavily toward boys…)
In the middle of talking about people/thing interest, Scott veers back to medicine, points out male/female variation between subfields, and offers these two graphs…
…which suggest that ludicrous people/things difference, y’know, the one some cultural-politics blogger told you was ‘pseudoscience.’
The best thing about Scott’s post: it started out as a response to a piece by Wharton organizational psychologist Adam Grant (scare quotes only because I don’t know what precisely that job title means), and Professor Grant responded to the post — with Scott responding in turn. This is what actual grownup conversations look like, people.
One of Grant’s essential points — if sex/gender disparities in tech are about ‘interest, not ability,’ then we mustn’t forget that interests can be changed — is a very important one. Pushing back against dumb blankslateism isn’t the same thing as saying there’s no entrenched systemic sexism or just societal influence on development; that would be literally insane.
But what’s in our shared interest, culturewide? At the moment, one of the clear correlates of our elite/coastal push for equitable hiring everywhere is the literal suppression of basic scientific research (in popular discourse). Do you feel it’s worth it, on balance, to have twice as many female coders at Google, if one of the costs (not ‘effects’) is a marked increase in willful scientific illiteracy, which is already sky-high? Could we have it both ways? Yes — but that means letting go of ideologies which demand that we dismiss, or ‘merely’ aggressively cherrypick, basic science.
Scott’s last response to Grant (so far) closes like so:
If we continue to insist that, no, women really want to do tech, but stereotypes and sexists are pushing them out, we’ll end up with constantly increasing social engineering to prevent stereotypes, and constantly increasing purges to ferret out sexists (and “benevolent sexists”, and “unconscious sexists”, and people who are progressive but not progressive enough, and so on). Since these will never work (or even have paradoxical effects for the reasons mentioned above), we’ll just ramp these up more and more forever. I’m saying we don’t have to do this. We can fight any stereotypes and sexists we find, but understand we’re doing this in a context where even 100% success won’t achieve perfect gender balance.
We’re talking here about competing notions of freedom and of fulfillment, and I worry that the better, more sustainable such notions are being throttled. But don’t take my word for it.
You must have a sense of how people respond to your work, but you mustn’t fixate on any one response — learning to manage variation in tastes is an important skill for anyone doing creative work.
It’s harder than ever to escape people’s responses to your writing; to ‘be online’ (to live online) is to be constantly, destructively aware of the ultimately irrelevant. Yet you should never get drawn into a lengthy exchange with a reviewer of your work, paid or volunteer, except to clarify errors of fact.
There is no good solution, other (I suppose) than doing good enough work that you can confidently ignore reviews altogether.
The vast majority of Mac owners probably never fire up Terminal.app, which is a pity: some of OSX’s power comes from its BSD underlayer. The command line is your way the core of OSX, and even with underrated tools like Automator available, some tasks are only feasible right at the command line.
Folks who code on Macs, meanwhile, have long known Apple’s Terminal as a nonideal CLI.
Craig Hockenberry begs to differ, offering the most detailed rundown of Terminal’s handy GUI integrations, clever keyboard extensions, and assorted hidden features that I know of. That’s 9,000 very useful words from 2014.
See? The Internet isn’t just a sociopathic hellscape! Only mostly.
From the archives: July 2011. The last of today’s batch. My contempt for gadgetbloggers (also ‘Apple pundits’) is limitless, as you can guess. I used to love venting my spleen like this. Now I tend to feel bad about it, though obviously not bad enough to keep this to myself. –wa.
David Pogue, a freelance gadget columnist best known for his work at the NYTimes, recently spoke (for pay) to an audience of PR professionals. The talk was entitled ‘Pitch Me, Baby.’ Last week the NYTimes ombudsman described Pogue exhorting the publicity men to suggest column material to him:
In the presentation, Pogue jumps out of the gate with a Power Point page inviting the audience to “Pitch me, Baby!”” The presentation goes on to offer do’s and don’ts and emphasizes his own close reliance on pitches that come his way from professional public relations people.
On a later slide, he displays eight recent New York Times columns and identifies five as having come from public relations people. Pogue explains that, as a reviewer of new gadgets, there is no comprehensive database he can rely on to learn about new stuff. Hence he relies on companies and their hired pitchmen to tell him about new products.
Pogue’s basic advice boils down to two imperatives: 1) “Save me time,” and 2) “Don’t be a robot.” This means that public relations people should tailor the pitch to its audience (avoid spamming, in particular) and avoid jargon and other extraneous matter.
This strikes me as a violation of journalistic ethics, not to mention good taste. The NYT agreed; Pogue has been forced to curb his appearances at such little get-togethers. But I don’t care at all about that aspect of the article; my disgust at Pogue’s behaviour isn’t new, nor is it unique; nor is he different in that regard from, say, Judith Miller pawning off Cheney/Rove PR as reportage. We don’t use the term ‘corporate media’ for nothing.
The deeper issue, which doesn’t seem to be getting talked about this week, is this:
Pogue’s job consists of advocating for the business interests of large corporations. That’s it. Like so many other ‘tech columnists,’ he masquerades as an advocate for better living with/through technology, but it’s easy to see that he’s always been a paid shill, nothing more: he’s only capable of talking about technology on a corporate PR timeline, within a logic of consumption rather than creation. He’s an advertiser for The New (and Expensive).
If Pogue mattered, he’d be writing about amazing! new! corporate! technology! with an eye toward an actual alternative: i.e. instead of saying ‘Should we buy the new iPhone or the new “iPhone-killer?”‘ a serious critic would ask, ‘Should we buy this new tech at all?’
A simple thought experiment: if you’ve bought a new computer in the last five years, why did you do so? If you’re a grownup, chances are you didn’t do it in order to play the latest video games. So ask yourself: what does your new computer enable you to do that your last computer didn’t? If your last computer was less than four years old, the answer is probably nothing.
My first iPhone altered the way I traveled (thank you location-aware computing) and used email (thank you 3G data service). My new one lets me shoot video, take better pictures, and run the old apps faster. I can imagine needing to replace it when it breaks, but what in the world could I possibly want from a ‘better’ phone?
Pogue and his fellow tech writers would answer by listing the features of next-gen phones. But ‘Why should I buy this phone?’ isn’t a question about a phone, it’s a question about me; and Pogue and his ilk should know it. Their defense is always the same: Well, you don’t have to buy what we recommend. And that’s true, of course. But these idiots then turn around and write about ‘tech’ from the perspective of collectors, ‘early adopters,’ fetishists. And they orient the culture toward these perverse logics.
Pogue isn’t a commentator on the ‘gadget industry,’ he’s part of it. He’s a servant of his corporate masters, who provide him with free shit in exchange for free publicity. But in his capacity as an NYTimes columnist, he’s presented as something else: a servant of his readers.
The only thing he creates in this world is a misperception of the need to buy new things.
So no, David Pogue’s recent bout of new-money tackiness isn’t a ‘journalism story.’ It’s not a ‘tech industry story.’ A paid advertiser got spanked by his bosses, who rely on paid advertising for their livelihoods. So what.
The actual story is that at this point, we can’t imagine ‘modern life’ without people like David Pogue. We are fucked.
From the archives: August 2011. I’m not proud of this one but ‘as writing,’ but it was important to write it, and it hurts me to read it. So here it is. –wa.
I don’t get along with people online, and that’s the plain fact. It’s taken me a while to be matter-of-fact about it, but there it is. I spent a bunch of time discussing the situation in therapy a couple years ago, but never did arrive at a satisfactory solution.
OK. The the problem goes deeper than incivility.
The summer after 10th grade (1995) I spent five weeks at Johns Hopkins, taking classes in the Pre-College Program. (It’s different from the well-known precocious-child program, CTY.) I got my first C (in a molecular biology lecture) and worked hard to get a life-changing A (in a small, prescient ‘Explorations in Text-Based Virtual Reality’ humanities seminar). Both grades were portents, but I didn’t understand them.
The focus of the seminar was MUD/MOO/MUSH culture — ‘A Rape in Cyberspace,’ Barlow’s ‘Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace,’ Neuromancer, some Bukatman, some Dery, that kind of thing. One of the requirements was to spend a bunch of time exploring the Diversity University MOO (moo.du.org:8888). I did. I also signed up for LambdaMOO (lambda.moo.mud.org:8888).
I’d never used the Internet before.
Some days I would get up, read the Millennium Whole Earth Catalog or my newly-purchased Principia Discordia for a while, then head over to the computer lab for a 12-hour stint in Lambda. I missed meals. I even missed class (see above re: ‘my first C’). Tuition for the program came to $3,600 for five weeks. My dad mowed lawns to raise a few hundred dollars. A wonderful man in my hometown lent us the balance of the tuition and it took us a long while to pay him back; or else we never did.
I got some sun but not as much as I needed. I fell hard for a girl in the next dorm, who didn’t notice me. Then I fell for someone with the username ‘Sirena,’ and that’s one of the weirdest stories of my whole life, I think.
I learned to ‘speak in public’ on LambdaMOO but I learned plenty of other things as well; and I came to rely on it. When I went home at summer’s end I felt totally disconnected from my hometown. I told myself and my family and even my couple of close friends that I just missed Baltimore, had a great time ‘at college,’ had never been around people who shared so many of my interests, just needed a little time to adjust. Junior year ahead, yay. That kind of thing. All of which was true, I suppose —
— but it occurs to me today, for the very first time, that as much as I missed the people and the school and the freedom, I was also going through withdrawal from the online world where my new self was being born. I mean that literally.
The term we’re looking for is addiction, of course, more specifically a form of ‘Internet addiction,’ which in the late 90’s was a subject of no small concern in the press and in academia.
You never hear about it now. Once everyone does some activity all day every day it’s not an addiction, it’s just ‘part of life.’ Like TV, or worrying about work, or hating the government.
I check my email several dozen times a day, yet I fail to respond in a timely fashion to friends and acquaintances. I may in fact be the worst correspondent I know. Yet I don’t immediately forget about the ‘need to respond’: indeed, waves of anxiety about my Inbox full of unanswered emails continue to ripple for weeks and weeks. I am never, ever free of anxiety about these communications — but I avoid responding.
I’ve destroyed friendships — and strained family relationships — this way.
When I have spare time, I read websites and occasionally comment on them. Sometimes I do this even when I don’t have spare time. Altogether I spend hours (hours!) a day looking at webpages and retaining almost nothing. I take no great pleasure from this activity. Indeed it has the dry sterility of pure compulsion, like pulling the arm of the slot machine.
I’ve posted to this blog more than 3,100 times since 29 September 2003. In that time I’ve been banned from one website, slunk away from several others, and stormed off several more. I get into fewer ‘flame wars’ than I used to, but it still happens. I still feel anxiety about websites I’ve ‘stopped reading’; indeed, at the site where I’ve been banned, I continue to comment under a different name.
I feel contempt for such behaviour but haven’t found a way to stop it, as yet.
Since 2009 I’ve posted upwards of 150 reviews to the phish.net — but I’ve only posted one or two since June, during which time I’ve posted 50 comments in discussion threads and in response to the admins’ blog posts. I consciously avoided any such discussions until this summer. This correlation between ‘chatting’ online and posting more thought-out frontline pieces (reviews and articles) has held, in my case, for many years.
After building a (very very minor) reputation as a thoughtful writer at whedonesque.com, I’ve all but scuttled it by turning into a persnickety, ill-tempered commenter. Unsurprisingly, none of my posts have been featured there since I started commenting more regularly.
The term isn’t brand dilution, but then what’s the term? Would I be happier if I knew?
A longtime netizen (remember that term?) told me this when I was banned from phishthoughts.com (for ‘trolling’):
You are a highly intelligent, very cerebral and I believe well meaning person but it seems that you have some form of internet Asperger’s which makes it impossible for you to determine what is and is not socially acceptable in many circumstances online.
I wrote him a long email telling him, essentially, that he had no idea what he was talking about and I was perfectly justified in what I said about the site’s owner and EVERYONE NEEDS TO THICKEN THE OLD SKIN, ETC., ETC. But I didn’t send it. My wife approvingly refers to this kind of thing as de-escalation and always looks so relieved when I choose not to carry on such exchanges. The look on her face breaks my heart. I realize, at such moments, that I don’t actually know how much damage I do to myself — or I won’t acknowledge it, or (worst of all, and most likely) I’ve decided I need to hurt myself ‘socially’ in order to continue living as I am.
Last summer I wrote this:
I think we should purge the books and sell them, to alleviate my guilt (not a writer, not a devoted enough reader, nothing special…) and maybe recoup a bit of money. My wife thinks we should keep the books around[…] And dust them. I try to explain that life will stop and start over, better, if she’ll just allow this one gesture; I mistake my self-indulgence for patience.
She evidently believes — insists — that life can’t start or stop, can only continue, so we might allow ourselves to do the same. I imagine that our future must resemble my past. The books, I’m certain, are signs of my…well, my irresponsibility, profligacy, compulsions, status-consciousness. My individual failings, you might say. Don’t I get the future I darkly deserve?
But what comes next is ours, not mine. `Mine’ is just for comfort — like the books. In our future[…]I’m glad my wife[…]made me keep the dreadful damned books way back when, and frustrated my urge to reduce our life to my story.
In grad school I went to a conference and met a young professor from some college out of sight/mind, and over the course of several joyful drunkening hours it became clear that we wanted to fuck each other, quite, but I was dating someone and she had to get back to her friends’ house where she was staying, and in any case it would have been an absolutely colossal mistake, quite, but unforgivable? Who knows? Probably yes and deservedly so I’d say (were the situation reversed). Well. One of those stories I hold onto in which I ‘miss an opportunity’ to have a conventional ‘good story’ but still come close enough to some inner horizon that the light goes strange and new (or very old) things are revealed. So how bad a story can it really be, what I’ve got now? She was a Buffy fan too and I definitely should have called her when I was single, later. But I wasn’t ever really single.
I mention it because, though I can’t find the email she sent a few days later in response to my own message, I’ve memorized these phrases:
I’ve used ‘Asperger’s Syndrome’ as a term of derision.
I am ashamed. This is inappropriate and callous.
It would be, even if I were Oprah Winfrey.
Everyone wants his favourite band to also be The Very Best Band. This is really important to teenagers, who in this country have nothing else to do, but it stays important to nominal adults. Like me. Same for books/films of course. (Phish, Coltrane, James Joyce, Fight Club, etc.) Same for people, though I wouldn’t know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like if I didn’t map my tastes on to the cosmic quality scale.
The point being that there are two problems compounding one another: I compulsively fiddle about on the Internet, either getting into arguments or zoning out pretending to be interested in what Ezra Klein and Arthur Silber have to say about anything, but at the same time I have very serious trouble maintaining a civil tone and spirit of congeniality in online fora. I tend to monologue at people — ever notice how rarely I respond to the wonderful comments around here? When the conversation gets two-sided I lose control of something (maybe just the conversation), and I end up saying things I regret. ‘Being misunderstood,’ HORROR!, but more than that: no longer trying to understand the people I talking to. Not reaching out.
And that’s where I am this morning. Worried, if you’re wondering, that I’ll slowly lose friends and alienate readers and never stop doing the things I most hate about myself. And — you must know this is deeply related — worried, too, that I’ll never write freely because it will always be about me.
You want 100% employment? Assign every single citizen to border patrol. The true meaning of the nation-state right there, the geographic Self. OK, hold one guy back to make dinner I guess. One guy for laundry. And someone to make sure the cable bill gets paid.
My son will probably wake up soon, and my wife with him. The day will start. Real life will start. This…this is the shadow. If you walk toward the light it’ll hide from your sight, but not as a favour: your shadow will follow you wherever you go.