Reflections on a First Semester

As my first semester comes to a close, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my experiences over the past few months.

I have learned so much – though the act of trying to enumerate just what I’ve learned seems far too daunting for today. Learning is a funny thing, you know. The growth that comes from learning is far more than the accumulation of facts. It’s a subtle process that involves slowly acquiring not only facts, but ways of thinking and approaching problems.

David Williamson Shaffer of the University of Wisconsin-Madison writes about this a lot in his work on epistemic frames. Building on the concept of “communities of practices” – spaces where people within a given field share similar approaches – Shaffer describes epistemic frames as “the ways of knowing with associated with particular communities of practice. These frames have a basis in content knowledge, interest, identity, and associated practices, but epistemic frames are more than merely collections of facts, interests, affiliations, and activities…knowing where to begin looking and asking questions, knowing what constitutes appropriate evidence to consider or information to assess, knowing how to go about gathering that evidence, and knowing when to draw a conclusion and/or move on to a different issue.”

So, essentially, over this first semester, I have been learning how to see the world through a particular epistemic frame: learning what questions to ask and what tools to deploy in answering them.

There is, of course, still so much to learn, but I’m walking away from this first semester with critical thinking skills that will serve me well in the years to come.

More important than the facts I studied or the equations I learned, was the constant challenge: what does this mean?

It is not enough to know how to write a program or how to call a function that will do all the hard work for you. (Okay, I’m still learning to do that!) It is great to be able to do those things, but those skills are only valuable if you know what it means – if you understand how the calculation is done and can properly interpret the results. So, that is what I have learned this semester: I have learned to think critically, to question my own intuition as well as the equations that are put in front of me.

And, of course, I have had a ton of fun.

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Proprietary Platform Challenges in Big Data Analysis

Today I had the opportunity to attend a great talk by Jürgen Pfeffer, Assistant Research Professor at Carnegie Mellon’s School of Computer Science. Pfeffer talked broadly about the methodological challenges of big data, social science research.

Increasingly, he argued, social scientists are reliant on data collected and curated by third party – often private – sources. As researchers, we are less intimately connected with our data, less aware of the biases that went into its collection and cleaning. Rather, in the era of social media and big data, we turn on some magical data source and watch the data flow in.

Take, for instance, Twitter – a platform whose prevalence and open API make it a popular source for scraping big datasets.

In a 2013 paper with Fred Morstatter, Huan Liu, and Kathleen M. Carley, Pfeffer assessed the representativeness of Twitter’s streaming API.  As the authors explain:

The “Twitter Streaming API” is a capability provided by Twitter that allows anyone to retrieve at most a 1% sample of all the data by providing some parameters…The methods that Twitter employs to sample this data is currently unknown.

Using Twitter’s “Firehose” – an expensive service that that allows for 100% access – the researchers compared the data provided by Twitter’s API to representative samples collected from the Firehose.

In news disturbing for computational social scientists everywhere, they found that “the Streaming API performs worse than randomly sampled data…in that case of top hashtag analysis, the Streaming API sometimes reveals negative correlation in the top hashtags, while the randomly sampled data exhibits very high positive correlation with the Firehose data.”

In one particular telling example, the team compared the raw counts from both the API and the Firehose of tweets about “Syria”. The API data shows high initial interest, tapering off around Christmas and seemingly starting to pick up again mid-January. You may be prepared to draw conclusions for this data: people are busy over the holidays, they are not on Twitter or not attentive to international issues at this time. It seems reasonable that there might be a lull.

But the firehouse data tell a different story: the API initially provides a good sample of the full dataset, but then as the API shows declining mentions, the Firehose shows a dramatic rise in mentions.

Twitter

Rather than indicating a change in user activity, the decline in the streaming data is most likely do to a change in Twitter’s sampling methods. But since neither the methods nor announcements of changes to the methods are publicly available, it’s impossible for a researcher to properly know.

While these results are disconcerting, Pfeffer was quick to point out that all is not lost. Bias in research methods is an old problem; indeed, bias is inherent to the social science process. The real goal isn’t to eradicate all bias, but rather to be aware of its existence and influence. To, as his talk was titled, know your data and know your methods.

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Civic Studies and Network Science

I had the delightful opportunity today to return to my former place of employment, Tufts University’s Jonathan M. Tisch College of Citizenship and Public Service, for a conversation about civic studies.

The “intellectual component of civic renewal, which is the movement to improve societies by engaging their citizens,” civic studies is the field that set me on this path towards a Ph.D. Civic studies puts citizens (of all legal statuses) at the fore, bringing together facts, values, and strategies to answer the question, “What should we do?

Ultimately, this is the question that I hope to help answer, as a person and as a scholar.

So, perhaps you can appreciate my former colleague’s confusion when they learned that my first semester coursework is in physics and math.

These are not, I suppose, the first fields one thinks of when looking to empower people to improve their communities. I am not convinced that bias is well founded, but irregardless, civic studies did primarily grow out of the social sciences and has its academic home closest to that realm.

So if my interest is in civic studies how did I end up in network science?

I hope to some day have a clear and compelling answer to that question – though it’s complicated by the fact that both fields are new and most people aren’t familiar with either of them.

The most obvious connection between civic studies and network science is around social networks. Civic studies is an inherently social field – as indicated by the “we” in what should we do? Questions of who is connected – and who is not – are critical.

For example, in Doug McAdam’s excellent book Freedom Summer, he documents the critical role of the strong social network of white, northern college students who participated in Freedom Summer. These students brought the problems of Mississippi to attention of the white mainstream, and these students went on to use the organizing skills they learned in the summer of 1964 to fuel the radical movements of the 1960s.

But networks also offer other insight into civic questions. Personally, I am particularly interested in network analysis of deliberation – exploring the exchange of ideas during deliberation and exploring how one’s own network of ideas influences they way draw on supporting arguments.

More broadly, networks can be seen throughout the civic world: not only are there networks of people and ideas, there are networks of institutions, networks of power, and the physical network of spaces that shape our world.

Networks and civics, I think, are closer than one might think.

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Flow

In positive psychology, there is a concept called “flow” which was created by University of Chicago psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Flow is a state of deep focus, known colloquially as being “in the zone.”

More precisely, Csikszentmihalyi identifies flow by asking, “Do you ever get involved in something so deeply that nothing else seems to matter and you lose track of time?”

Now, being something of a skeptic and contrarian, I’m automatically suspicious of anything that has “positive” in the title. And somewhat similarly, when I first heard about “flow” I thought it was ridiculous. I’m used to the hectic world of working life: managing more tasks than are humanly possible to complete while people constantly interrupt with questions. It’s not orderly, but it’s still possible to get a lot done and finish the day with one’s sanity intact.

I’ve been having a different experience since I started school. I certainly have plenty of work to do, but there are fewer interruptions. I come in, start my work, and don’t move again for hours. I’ve gotten out of the habit of constantly tabbing over to Facebook or email – at the end of the day, I find I have a lot of catching up with the outside world to do.

I have almost missed class or nearly forgotten to go home because I’m so focused on what I’m working on.

I guess this is flow.

Csikszentmihalyi makes the bold claim that “it is the full involvement of flow, rather than happiness, that makes for excellence in life.” I’m hardly ready to go that far, but it’s certainly an interesting state. And there’s something particularly satisfying about accomplishing a task from a state of flow.

But the state is not without it’s drawbacks. Most obvious are the possible health effects: I’ve got from a life of hectic running around to one of entirely sitting. But more fundamentally, I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with the idea of losing time. I don’t want time to simply slip passed me while I focus on my work: I’d rather be aware of each moment.

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Pedagogy and Disciplines

After several years of working in academia, it’s been interesting to be back in the classroom as a student. Teaching per se was not central to my previous role, but a lot of my work focused on student development.

I’ve also had a somewhat untraditional academic path. My undergraduate studies were in physics, I went on to get a Masters in marketing communication, and then through work I had the opportunity to co-teach an undergraduate philosophy seminar course. So, I’ve been particularly struck by the different pedagogical approaches that can be found in different disciplines.

In many ways, these pedagogical approaches can be linked back to different understandings of wisdom: techne, technical knowledge; episteme, scientific knowledge; and phronesis, practical wisdom.

My undergraduate studies in physics focused on episteme – there was some techne as they taught specific mathematical approaches, but the real emphasis was on developing our theoretical understanding.

My master’s program – aimed at preparing people for careers in marketing – lay somewhere between techne and phronesis. Teaching by case studies is typically associated with phronesis – since the approach is intended to teach students how to make good decisions when confronted with new challenges. But the term is not a perfect fit for marketing – phronesis traditionally takes “good decisions” to be ethical decisions, whereas these studies took “good” to mean “good for business.” The term techne, which implies a certain art or craftship, is also relevant here.

The philosophy seminar I co-taught focused on phronesis. This is by no means intrinsic to philosophy as a discipline, but my specific class focused on civic studies, an emergent field that asks, “what should we do?”

This question is inherently linked to phronesis: as urban planner Bent Flyvbjerg writes in arguing for more on phronesis in the socials sciences: “a central question for phronesis is: What should we do?”

Each of these types of wisdom could be tied to different pedagogical methods by exploring the tasks expected by students. To develop phronesis, students are confronted with novel contextual situations asked to develop solutions. For techne students have to create something – this might be a rote recreation of ones multiplication tables, or could involve a more artistic pursuit. Episteme would be taught through problem sets – asking students to apply theoretical knowledge to answer questions with discrete answers.

From my own experience, different disciplines tend to gravitate towards different types of wisdom. But I wonder how inherent these approaches are to a discipline. Episteme may be the norm in physics, for example, but what would a physics class focused on phronesis look like?

 

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Han Shot First

In on the eve of being honored by the Kennedy Center, legendary filmmaker George Lucas sat down with the Washington Post to reflect on his remarkable career. Among other things, Lucas used the opportunity to defend one of his most controversial decisions: editing a scene in the remastered Star Wars to make it appear that Greedo shot first.

The Washington Post explains:

[Lucas] went back to some scenes that had always bothered him, particularly in the 1977 film: When Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is threatened by Greedo, a bounty hunter working for the sluglike gangster Jabba the Hutt, Han reaches for his blaster and shoots Greedo by surprise underneath a cantina table. In the new version, it is Greedo who shoots first, by a split second. 

Lucas justifies the change:

“Han Solo was going to marry Leia, and you look back and say, ‘Should he be a cold-blooded killer?’ ” Lucas asks. “Because I was thinking mythologically — should he be a cowboy, should he be John Wayne? And I said, ‘Yeah, he should be John Wayne.’ And when you’re John Wayne, you don’t shoot people [first] — you let them have the first shot. It’s a mythological reality that we hope our society pays attention to.”

The Washington Post points out that Lucas is “a passionate defender of an artist’s right to go back and tweak his work.” In some ways that seems fair – yet art is not created solely by the artist. Art, nearly by definition, is a shared experience; the interpretation of art is a creative act in itself.

So, yes, perhaps Lucas has the right to re-edit his films and add terrible CGI characters. But we, too, have the right to rebel. To hold our interpretations valid.

And CGI monstrosities aside, there is something particularly problematic about the narrative change of “Greedo shot first.”

Lucas himself almost gets at it in his defense: we wish Han hadn’t shot first.

Han is a good guy. We like him. He’s a little rough around the edges, maybe, but beneath his gruff exterior, we know he is a hero. And heroes always do the right thing.

Lucas sees that as a reason to re-write history. A true hero wouldn’t shoot first, therefore a true hero didn’t shoot first.

But that is exactly why it is so important to acknowledge that Han shot first. Maybe we wish he hadn’t, maybe we want him to be so upstanding that no matter how dicey the situation he always gives others the benefit of the doubt. But no matter how much we wish that to be the way the world is, we all know the truth:

Han shot first.

Perhaps it wasn’t the ideal thing to do. Perhaps it represents a moral lapse in his character. But it’s who he is, and it doesn’t diminish his capacity to be a hero.

All of us have made mistakes in our lives. All of us have moments we are not proud of. All of us wish we could exploit our “artist’s rights” to go back and edit our darker moments, to remake ourselves more like the heroes we wish we could be. But, of course, none of us really have that luxury.

The truth is, Han shot first. But that doesn’t make him less of a hero. He can still save the day and he can still get the girl.

Han shot first, but we are all capable of redemption.

 

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Feminism and Nietzsche

It is no secret that Friedrich Nietzsche wrote a lot of problematic things about women.

Of course, he is hardly alone in this, but Nietzsche’s pointed and ironic style make many of his comments particularly brutal. He plays into many typical tropes about women:

“Women are all skilful in exaggerating their weaknesses, indeed they are inventive in weaknesses, so as to seem quite fragile ornaments to which even a grain of dust does harm,” Nietzsche writes in The Gay Science. Women are manipulative, dangerous creatures who only feign weakness in order to beguile man and “defend themselves against the strong and the ‘law of the jungle.'”

And, of course, women are not capable of real connection with others; they are shallow creatures. “Woman’s love involves injustice and blindness against everything that she does not love…Woman is not yet capable of friendship: women are still cats and birds. Or at best cows…,” he writes in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Or, if you prefer: “Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman has one solution—that is pregnancy. For the woman, the man is a means: the end is always the child.”

Thanks, Nietzsche.

Yet, none of this is a reason to throw out all of Nietzsche – he does make some more meaningful arguments – and some feminist scholars have even embraced his works.

In the collection of essays, Feminist Interpretations of Friedrich Nietzsche, Kelly Oliver and Marilyn Pearsall explain why a feminist would read Nietzsche in the first place:

How do feminist reconcile his apparent woman-hating aphorisms with the plethora of female figurations that ‘haunt’ his writings? Far from evading and ignoring femininity and maternity, as other canonical philosophers do, Nietzsche seems compelled to speak of them. His texts abound with references to women and the feminine, and specifically to feminists themselves. He continually deploys women as a trope – for life, for art, and for truth.

This argument is somewhat problematic in its own right: feminists should study Nietzsche because while other philosophers show their misogyny by ignoring women, Nietzsche at least has the decency to display his misogyny directly. But, it’s not quite as simple as that.

Oliver and Pearsall go on to describe the two approaches feminists take to reconciling with Nietzsche.  The first approach, which seems to me to be the most pervasive, is to generally write Nietzsche off as the terrible misogynist he portrays himself to be. A feminist philosopher might still salvage some worthwhile remarks from other portions of his works, but these readings all must start with outrage over his “privileging of masculinity and denigrating of femininity.”

The other approach – which I find myself drawn to – is to consider Nietzsche’s comments with irony as part of his esoteric approach. These feminist philosophers “view his sexual dualism with the context of Nietzsche’s anti-essentialism and anti-dualism. They cite his ironic treatment of an ‘eternal feminine’ or essential woman. They see his perspectivism as questioning the fixity of sexual difference in favor of social constructionism.”

At worst, this approach finds Nietzsche, as Maudemarie Clark argues, caught in a contrast between his philosophical beliefs and his own misogynistic sentiments.

At best, this approach credits Nietzsche with – rather than expressing his own misogynistic beliefs – exposing the misogynistic beliefs of society.

That last reading is perhaps too kind, but I find myself intrigued by the idea nonetheless.

When Nietzsche writes about women, I rarely read him has writing about women. From his work, I’m not sure he has every actually met a woman – rather it seems as though he looked the term up in a dictionary and found a social construct that would serve as a perfect foil for his ubermench.

Did Nietzsche really think such terrible things about women? Perhaps, though as feminist philosophers have noted many of his comments are dissonant with his deeper beliefs. But, one thing I am confident of is that Nietzsche did not invent these images of women.

He writes about women as beguiling, as shallow and manipulative, as weak but somehow strong in their weakness. These are tropes that have been oppressing women for centuries. Nietzsche’s writings bring them to light – and, as modern reader – seem to mock them.

Nietzsche writes like a little boy having a tantrum. But beneath all the pomp and circumstance, beneath his exhausted peacocking, Nietzsche strikes me as deeply ironic in all that he writes.

Words have the power to create, not simply reflect, Nietzsche argues, but his words create a dark reflection of society’s misogyny indeed.

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Othering

I’ve been noticing a troubling trend in the wake of our ongoing cycle of tragic news stories: othering.

Othering is by no means new, but I’ve been struck lately by the ease with which it slips out into the open, from people of all political backgrounds. One person might other Muslims while another might other Christians, but neither form of othering should be welcome in the good society.

Sociologist Steven Sideman has a great paper exploring the theory of othering, in which he explains the term:

An elaborated account of otherness assumes a social world that is symbolically divided into two antagonistic orders: a symbolic-moral order conferring full personhood and a respected civil status and its antithesis, a defiled order. Othering is a process in which certain persons and the spaces they occupy are excluded from what is considered to be the morally sanctified civil life of a community. 

Typically, as sociologist Stephen Sapp writes, othering is a “processes that dominant groups use to define the existence of secondary groups,” but I am inclined to agree with Sideman that “disadvantaged status in one or more social spheres does not necessarily mean subordination across all spheres.”

Our American red state/blue state rivalry is indicative of this: some liberals other conservatives just as some conservatives other liberals. It’s hard to say which group is dominant, but either way, we are unlikely to find a way out of our political gridlock until we stop othering each other.

Othering itself may be endemic to the human condition and may have its roots in less insidious thinking.

Sociologists Keith Maddox and Sam Sommers talk about the related field of implicit bias in terms of heuristics, or mental shortcuts: “Humans often rely on cognitive shortcuts to get things done. We categorize people and place them into preconceived notions.”

We literally could not function without these cognitive shortcuts: these are the same mental processes that allow us to navigate a subway system in a new city or recognize an object as a “table.” Humans categorize things to make sense of the world, and we’re very, very, good at doing so subconsciously.

This logic illustrates for Maddox and Sommers the problem of a “color-blind” approach to racial injustice. We can’t simply wash away our implicit biases: rather we must be made aware of them and we must work to confront them in ourselves.

Othering at times may be similarly implicit – I am certainly guilty of my own biases, and it’s easy to think of people different from oneself as an “other.”

But, just as color-blindness is not a solution, we must call ourselves out for our othering, and we must actively seek to not hold whole groups responsible for the actions of a few.

Following the recent attacks at a Planned Parenthood, it is fair to ask why white shooters seem to be perpetually treated more justly than unarmed black men. It is fair to point to the injustices in our system and to demand that all people be treated justly. But it is not fair to make jokes about registering Evangelicals or shutting down churches: we should never judge the whole by the actions of a few.

In the last few days, I have been heartened to see some of my pro-life friends share messages of support for Planned Parenthood. But, of course, I should hardly be surprised: regardless of how one feels about abortion, any reasonable person would be saddened by the shooting in Colorado. Only an extremists wanted that to happen, and we should never judge the whole by the actions of a few.

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The Welcome Project

I am deeply honored to have been elected last week as Vice Chair of The Welcome Project, a Somerville non-profit I have worked with for many years.

I join board chair César Urrunaga, treasurer Tim Groves, clerk Judith Perlstein as well as interim executive director Ben Echevarria and a great group of board members in serving as a steward for this this important organization.

The Welcome Project builds the collective power of Somerville immigrants to participate in and shape community decisions.

That is, The Welcome Project is an inherently civic organization: it does not seek to assimilate immigrants into a pre-existing culture, but rather seeks to equip area immigrants with the tools to effectively add their voices and perspectives to the ongoing task of improving our community.

This is an important distinction.

Somerville is a city of immigrants, as, indeed, the United States is a nation of immigrants. Our community’s personality, our strength, comes not from excluding those who are different from us nor from forcing others to conform to some socially-constructed norm.

The Welcome Project celebrates immigrants for who they are and for what they bring to the community.

This can often take practical forms – The Welcome Project is known partly for its ESOL adult language classes. But importantly, it takes an active form: in the classroom, English language skills are taught through a focus on student-selected topic areas.

Right now, most students are learning about jobs and housing. Other students are learning about mental health issues – particularly issues like culture shock, which hold particular interest in immigrant communities. These are the issues which effect our students most deeply. These are the issues for which our students voices need to be heard.

Our work is not just a service to the students who learn with us; its a service to the community. We need all these voices. We need all these perspectives.

I am thrilled to have been named Vice Chair of this great organization, and I look forward to continuing to support its growth in the coming years.

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Six Degrees of Wonder Woman: Part 2

As I mentioned previously, for one of my classes I am constructing a network of superheroes with an eye towards gender diversity in this medium.

Using data from the Grand Comics Database, I filtered down their 1.5 million unique stories to look specifically at English language comic books tagged as being in the “superhero” genre.

Each comic book record includes a list of the characters appearing in that comic book, but, unfortunately, the database doesn’t include information on characters’ identified gender. So I went through and added this information to the data set.

More generally, I also wanted to identify the unique identity of each person under a given mantel – a non-trivial task.

In the end, I ended up with the below super-hero social network. Female characters are indicated by green and make up 28% of the network. Yellow nodes indicate male characters.

hairball3

Nodes are sized by degree (number of connection to other characters), and you can see from the above that male characters have, on average, a higher degree than female characters.

Since the above visualization is not very helpful, I’ve included a visualization of the top 50 nodes (by degree), below. The top 5 men and top 5 women are labeled – I had to split it up because Wonder Woman was the only woman in the top 10. If you’re wondering, the yellow node off to the top left is one Commissioner James Gordon.

highdegree_good

Stay tuned for future analysis!

 

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