Interesting Things I've Read (or Watched) /
Some Interesting Things I’ve Read/Watched: Link Dump #3
Hi! Here is a linkdump. I told myself I would post these with really minimal context because I am too busy to summarize these things and have a really giant backlog of links I’ve been wanting to post, but uh, the writer in me won out and I failed. Some of these have way more description than others. But I do also have quotes I’ve pulled for some of them, so maybe that will help make this post more interesting.
James Quiambao, Idea Flux
This idea is so powerful that I’ll let the quote speak for itself.
Some weeks, I’ll have a ton of ideas, other weeks not so many. I call this idea flux. Idea flux is a phrase I use to describe the number of ideas going through my head at any one time.
Oh, and here’s another fun bit:
And in order to get decent grades I feel as if I need to suppress my curiosity. Curious people do not get rewarded in the school system which is why it’s a rare trait. And a curiosity is a large contributor to idea flux.
This post is very short. You can (and should) just read the whole thing right now.
The Atlantic, Can Poetry Matter?
One of my siblings sent me this article. It was originally published in 1991 and attempts to guess at potential reasons why poetry has fallen out of public relevance. As someone who occasionally writes poetry and has been in poet spaces, I think a lot of the arguments in here are accurate and still relevant. If anything, the situation has only gotten worse than what is described here.
But the poetry boom has been a distressingly confined phenomenon. Decades of public and private funding have created a large professional class for the production and reception of new poetry comprising legions of teachers, graduate students, editors, publishers, and administrators. Based mostly in universities, these groups have gradually become the primary audience for contemporary verse. Consequently, the energy of American poetry, which was once directed outward, is now increasingly focused inward. Reputations are made and rewards distributed within the poetry subculture. To adapt Russell Jacoby’s definition of contemporary academic renown from The Last Intellectuals, a “famous” poet now means someone famous only to other poets. But there are enough poets to make that local fame relatively meaningful. Not long ago, “only poets read poetry” was meant as damning criticism. Now it is a proven marketing strategy.
Rob Henderson, Experts and Elites Play Fundamentally Different Games
I think this post has some very interesting ideas that are a loosely helpful framework for understanding certain types of power dynamics. Rob Henderson expands on a distinction he borrowed from Robin Hanson about “elites” vs “experts”. The rough claim made here is that experts are people who have influence because of what they know, whereas elites are people who have influence because of who they are or what they have (which is usually wealth, connections, prestige, etc). They’re two ends of a spectrum, in some sense. I mainly found this post interesting because I’ve been reading a lot about the effects of class on post-educational outcomes, and these ideas have a lot of synergy with a book I read called Pedigree, which is about the hiring practices of law, consulting, and banking firms.
An interesting theme I found in the article was the differences in how elites and experts communicate, who they communicate to, and what their goals are. Also, the distinction between an “academic” and a “public intellectual” is interesting here.
Experts are people who know things. They’re judged by other experts—people who speak the same language, use the same methods, and know the same details. You can spot experts by their credentials, their technical precision, or just the way they argue. They care about being right. They’re evaluated on whether their work holds up—whether it can be tested, measured, replicated, or defended under scrutiny. They debate each other, go deep into the weeds, and let the details decide who’s correct.
Elites are different. They’re not judged on technical knowledge but on being impressive across a broader range: wealth, looks, taste, social fluency, connections, charisma, and cultural feel. Elite institutions tend to screen for such qualities, which is why educational pedigree is also often important. This is why you can major in anything at Harvard and still get an elite job. No need for narrow expertise in, say, engineering or mathematics.
And here’s a second quote.
A lot of people who do public-facing work toggle between the two. Sometimes you demonstrate mastery of a subject. Other times you zoom out, gesture toward big themes, build alliances.
Anyway, these are interesting ideas.
Nadia Asparouhova, Explaining tech’s notion of talent scarcity
This article is about different models for screening for talent. The key idea here is the comparison between three models: a normal distribution model, where companies hope their processes will compensate for average employees; a Pareto distribution model, where a company tries to recruit the top X percentile of employees (usually based on some kind of metric that makes the candidate jump through a bunch of hoops to prove how smart and skilled and hardworking they are); and a bimodal distribution model, where a company tries to recruit a few geniuses (Asparouhova calls them “linchpins”) that will make up for the performance of all of the other average employees.
Asparouhova’s main argument is that most software companies are traditionally bimodal distribution type places trying to retain lynchpin-type employees (a.k.a “10x developers”).
Despite the similarity between these two concepts, McKinsey’s notion of top talent and software’s 10x developer reveal subtle cultural differences. Both are concerned with identifying the best people to work with, but the McKinsey version defines the best as the top percentile in their field, whereas the 10x developer is often a singular, talented individual whose magic is difficult to explain or replicate.
Antoine Amarilli, What’s wrong with academia?
This researcher from France wrote a very long and comprehensive and most of all, eloquent description of a lot of problems with how academia currently functions. It was an interesting read, to say the least.
Edward Zitron, The Era Of The Business Idiot
The first Edward Zitron piece I ever read was There Is No AI Revolution, which is, in my opinion, a brilliant read. In that post, Zitron explained bit by bit why he believes that AI is a massive bubble that will eventually implode and provided lots of facts and arguments to back up his claims. Zitron is a long-winded skeptic, but at least he takes his skepticism seriously.
Zitron’s argument in this piece is that there is a subset of the modern management class which values the appearance of results and progress more than actual substance or skills, and that generative AI is primarily built to pander to these people.
This quote, I think, summarizes the main point he’s trying to make in the article:
These people don’t want to automate work, they want to automate existence. They fantasize about hitting a button and something happening, because experiencing — living! — is beneath them, or at least your lives and your wants and your joy are. They don’t want to plan their kids’ birthday parties. They don’t want to research things. They don’t value culture or art or beauty. They want to skip to the end, hit fast-forward on anything, because human struggle is for the poor or unworthy.
When you are steeped in privilege and/or have earned everything through a mixture of stolen labor and office pantomime, the idea of “effort” is always negative. The process of creation — or affection, of love, of kindness, of using time not just for an action or output — is disgusting to the Business Idiot, because those are times they could be focused on themselves, or some nebulous self-serving “vision” that is, when stripped back to its fundamental truth, is either moronic or malevolent. They don’t realise that you hire a worker for the worker’s work rather than just the work themselves, which is why they don’t see why it’s so insulting to outsource their interactions with human beings.
I also think the following quote, in particular, is quite interesting, because it reminds me of a conversation I had with someone once about whether or not being well-rounded or being a specialist was better for contributing to solving hard problems. The big about the big picture being made up of small brush strokes pretty much summarizes the argument I was give for why specialization and expertise matter.
Nothing about what I’m saying should suggest the Business Idiot is weak. In fact, Business Idiots are fully in control — we have too many managers, and our most powerful positions are valorized for not knowing stuff, for having a general view that can “take the big picture,” not realizing that a big picture is usually made up of lots of little brush strokes.
Anyway. Ed Zitron is a very, very opinionated guy.
Dorian Taylor, The HURRDURR Games
This is Dorian Taylor’s take on why hackathons are bad. Tl;dr: they’re a form of unpaid spec work, which is bad. It also contains this really fun calculator that lets you see how much you should really be paid for hackathon participation. For example, legally in Ontario the first 8 hours of the hackathon should be paid at regular rate, then at 150% of the rate for the next 16 hours. If you make minimum wage in Ontario ($17.20/hr), your time at the hackathon is worth $816. If you make an okay software dev intern wage like, I don’t know, $30/hr, your time at the hackathon is worth $1440. What are your chances of actually winning that amount of money? And that’s like, for an intern.
Now, I don’t actually think student-run hackathons are bad. They’re mostly just fun learning events where students stay up all night, build cool stuff, and maybe win some prizes. Half of those students have nothing better to do and would probably be building random stuff anyway. But I think this is a really compelling argument for professionals not doing the kind of sponsored hackathon being described here.
I’ve also heard stories of companies holding internal 24-hour hackathons and pressuring employees (and even worse, interns) to participate in them. I think this is kinda concerning, especially if that time isn’t being paid.
It isn’t clear that all patrons of so-called hackathons are sinister. Like most comedically skewed offerings, it is far more likely that they simply haven’t given it much thought, and are operating on autopilot, using boilerplate terms excreted unthinkingly from their legal department. The fact that they don’t seem to have too much trouble filling a room, implies that the people who show up haven’t given it much thought either.
This is bad, because it reinforces the optics that creative professionals have been fighting for-freaking-ever: that we don’t value our own time, so why should anybody else? Moreover—and I waited all the way until the end to say this—what kind of product can you possibly deliver overnight that isn’t either complete garbage on one hand, or the capstone on a much bigger, more labour-intensive product you’ve been working on for some time already? It makes the optics twice as bad, as it implies creative professionals only come in two flavours: worthless or magic.
Tom Warren, Mercedes-Benz will let you use an in-car camera in Microsoft Teams while driving
This is just sad.
Maya Bodnick, ChatGPT goes to Harvard
This article claims that ChatGPT was able to achieve a 3.57 GPA in the equivalent of a first-year course load at Harvard, which is probably around an A- or B+ GPA. (Don’t quote me on this… I’m not American). Now, I would take this claim with a grain of salt, since Harvard is known for its rampant grade inflation (for example, there was a call for Harvard to abolist its Dean’s list at a point when 92% of students qualified for it). That being said, it’s mildly concerning that one could possibly obtain a degree from an elite institution with reasonable grades without actually doing anything.
Also, look at the feedback the TAs and professors gave on ChatGPT’s work:
Several of the professors and TAs were impressed with ChatGPT-4’s prose: “It is beautifully written!” “Well written and well articulated paper.” “Clear and vividly written.” “The writer’s voice comes through very clearly." But this wasn’t universal; my Conflict Resolution TA criticized ChatGPT-4’s flowery writing style: “I might urge you to simplify your writing — it feels as though you’re overdoing it with your use of adjectives and metaphors.”
Compared to their feedback on style, the professors and TAs were more modestly positive about the content of the essays. My American Presidency TA gave ChatGPT-4’s paper an A based on his assessment that “the paper does a very good job of hitting each requirement,” while my Microeconomics TA awarded an A in part because he liked the essay’s “impressive… attention to detail.”
This isn’t terrifying at all.
Celine Nguyen, research as leisure activity
The idea of research as leisure activity has stayed with me because it seems to describe a kind of intellectual inquiry that comes from idiosyncratic passion and interest. It’s not about the formal credentials. It’s fundamentally about play. It seems to describe a life where it’s just fun to be reading, learning, writing, and collaborating on ideas.
When I first read this, it really spoke to me. I feel like so much of what I do in my free time is a kind of research: I read obsessively around certain topics, try to understand them from as many angles as I can, and occasionally attempt to write about them. I will track down references and read them and eventually get to a point where I’ve read a few of the major works new books about the same topic are referencing. Why? I’m not sure. I think it might just be my personality and my tendency to be too curious for my own good.
Who is doing this kind of research as leisure activity? Artists, often.
Yup, guilty as charged.
I’d also say that pretty much every writer, essayist, “cultural critic,” etc—especially someone who’s writing more as a vocation than a profession—has research as their leisure activity. What they do for pleasure (reading books, seeing films, listening to music) shades naturally and inevitably into what they want to write about, and the things they consume for leisure end up incorporated into some written work.
One of my earliest examples of this is Cory Doctorow, especially on Pluralistic, but he’s also a professional writer so maybe he doesn’t actually count. What’s cool about Doctorow is that he thinks in public a lot, and you can see the threads of that thinking in the nonfiction books that he later writes.
Research as leisure activity is directed by passions and instincts. It’s fundamentally very personal: What are you interested in now? It’s fine, and maybe even better, if the topic isn’t explicitly intellectual or academic in nature.”
You know, this reminds me somewhat of the time I took a grad seminar in the English department and my professor asked everyone in the class what their academic interests were. I have many interests, but not all of them are things I’m interested in professionally (i.e. things I would spend money to study in school or fields I’d want to be employed in). They might be academic in nature, but I explore them in an unstructured way primarily as a hobby.
I also write about these things in a very unstructured way. It feels kinda close to doing my legit research, in the sense that I sit with these ideas in my head a lot, come up with lots of questions, and try to answer them, but the way I express and write about these ideas isn’t rigorous in any way. For example, when I write on here, I don’t always have evidence (other than personal experience) for a lot of my claims. I think some balance might be needed if you’re prone to accidentally doing research-like stuff. I think good linking and citation hygiene is good and I aim to change my habit of not tying in enough links to other related things in these blog posts.
As a result, research as leisure activity is exuberantly undisciplined or antidisciplinary.
This last quote harks back to a seminar I went where a grad student presented a paper about her issues with academia and being a grad student. One sentence I very clearly remember hearing her say was, “will we ever be undisciplined in the academy?”
Honestly, I think the answer to that question is no. That being said, Nguyen is making a pretty compelling case that you don’t quite need to wait for the academy to become undisciplined. You can do undisciplined research-like activities already.
Unless you’re in science or something where you need a lab and money and tons of specialized equipment. In that case, if you want to take risks and be “undisciplined” and produce research for fun, good luck, you are screwed.