2,762 Matching Annotations
  1. Jun 2024
    1. Web programming is plumbing. It’s just ripping out old pipes and putting in new pipes. It’s a dirty, ugly job. The old pipes are covered in greasy grime and the new ones are cheap plastic that keeps breaking and nothing fits together like it is supposed to.
    1. we’d probably be better off with the Fortune 500,000 than the Fortune 500. Scale brings with it the ills of Seeing Like a State; the authoritarian high modernist mindset takes over at large scale. And while large organizations can exist, they can’t be the only ones with access to, or ability to, afford new technologies. Enabling the dynamic creation and destruction of new organizations and new types of organization—and legal and technical mechanisms to prevent lock-in and to prevent enclosure of public commons—will be essential to keep this new fluid era thriving. We can create new “federated” networks of organizations and social groups, like we’re seeing in the open social web of Mastodon and similar technologies, ones where local groups can have local rules that differ from, but do not conflict with, their participation in the wider whole.
    2. TensionThe ability to see like a data structure afforded us the technology we have today. But it was built for and within a set of societal systems—and stories—that can’t cope with nebulosity. Worse still is the transitional era we’ve entered, in which overwhelming complexity leads more and more people to believe in nothing. That way lies madness. Seeing is a choice, and we need to reclaim that choice. However, we need to see things and do things differently, and build sociotechnical systems that embody this difference.This is best seen through a small example. In our jobs, many of us deal with interpersonal dynamics that sometimes overwhelm the rules. The rules are still there—those that the company operates by and laws that it follows—meaning there are limits to how those interpersonal dynamics can play out. But those rules are rigid and bureaucratic, and most of the time they are irrelevant to what you’re dealing with. People learn to work with and around the rules rather than follow them to the letter. Some of these might be deliberate hacks, ones that are known, and passed down, by an organization’s workers. A work-to-rule strike, or quiet quitting for that matter, is effective at slowing a company to a halt because work is never as routine as schedules, processes, leadership principles, or any other codified rules might allow management to believe.The tension we face is that on an everyday basis, we want things to be simple and certain. But that means ignoring the messiness of reality. And when we delegate that simplicity and certainty to systems—either to institutions or increasingly to software—they feel impersonal and oppressive. People used to say that they felt like large institutions were treating them like a number. For decades, we have literally been numbers in government and corporate data structures. BreakdownAs historian Jill Lepore wrote, we used to be in a world of mystery. Then we began to understand those mysteries and use science to turn them into facts. And then we quantified and operationalized those facts through numbers. We’re currently in a world of data—overwhelming, human-incomprehensible amounts of data—that we use to make predictions even though that data isn’t enough to fully grapple with the complexity of reality.How do we move past this era of breakdown? It’s not by eschewing technology. We need our complex socio-technical systems. We need mental models to make sense of the complexities of our world. But we also need to understand and accept their inherent imperfections. We need to make sure we’re avoiding static and biased patterns—of the sort that a state functionary or a rigid algorithm might produce—while leaving room for the messiness inherent in human interactions. Chapman calls this balance “fluidity,” where society (and really, the tech we use every day) gives us the disparate things we need to be happy while also enabling the complex global society we have today.
    3. But that’s not the case for a computer, or a robot, or even a corporate food service, which can’t navigate the intricacies and uncertainties of the real world with the flexibility we expect of a person. And at an even larger scale, our societal systems, whether we’re talking about laws and governments or just the ways our employers expect us to get our jobs done, don’t have that flexibility built into them. We’ve seen repeatedly how breaking corporate or government operations into thousands of disparate, rigid contracts ends in failure.
    4. The hope is that, because we have better algorithms that can help us make sense of even more data, we can somehow succeed at making systems work where past societies have failed. But it’s not going to work because it’s the mode of thought that doesn’t work.
    5. To boost its search engine rankings, Thai Food Near Me, a New York City restaurant, is named after a search term commonly used by potential customers. It’s a data layer on top of reality. And the problems get worse when the relative importance of the data and reality flip. Is it more important to make a restaurant’s food taste better, or just more Instagrammable? People are already working to exploit the data structures and algorithms that govern our world. Amazon drivers hang smartphones in trees to trick the system. Songwriters put their catchy choruses near the beginning to exploit Spotify’s algorithms. And podcasters deliberately mispronounce words because people comment with corrections and those comments count as “engagement” to the algorithms.These hacks are fundamentally about the breakdown of “the system.” (We’re not suggesting that there’s a single system that governs society but rather a mess of systems that interact and overlap in our lives and are more or less relevant in particular contexts.)
  2. May 2024
    1. According to Star (2015: 480), “many information sys-tems employ what literary theorists would call amasternarrativeor asinglevoicethatdoes not problematize diversity. ȃis voice speaks unconsciously from the centerof things” (Star 2015: 476, our emphasis). ȃis voice includes and excludes, createsinsiders and outsiders. In this sense, infrastructure is a “fundamentally relationalconcept, becoming real infrastructure in relation to organized practices” (idem).Actually, it is the invisibility that makes the embodied infrastructure moreencompassing. Whereas the physical infrastructure can be permanently up-dated – new buildings, new computers, new collections – the embodied infras-tructure can remain inert throughout these visible changes.Moments of crises – like the present times – make this inertia more visible
    1. Welche Faktoren machen die Allmenden im Netz wirklich nachhaltig? Es gibt viele Aspekte, die relevant sind, um Allmende-Güter im digitalen Raum nicht nur bestehen, sondern auch wachsen und gedeihen zu lassen. Zum einen rechtlich-regulatorische Maßnahmen, die eine Einhegung verhindern. Da ist der Klassiker die freie Lizenz, die in der Wikipedia oder auch bei freier Software zum Einsatz kommt und verhindert, dass etwas, das gemeinschaftlich, kollektiv erstellt wurde, wieder zur Ware wird. Ein zweiter Aspekt ist, dass die Allmende ihren Wert nur behält, wenn sie kontinuierlich gepflegt und immer wieder erneuert wird. Zu einer Allmende gehört eine Community, die sie befüllt, aber auch nutzt. Das müssen nicht dieselben Leute sein. Nur ein kleiner Bruchteil der Menschheit befüllt die Wikipedia. Aber die ganze Welt nutzt sie. Niemand würde fordern, dass sie nur Leute nutzen dürfen, die auch beitragen. Ich unterscheide in der Regel zwischen einer Community, die zur Allmende beiträgt, und einer Crowd, die sie nutzt. Um eine nachhaltige digitale Allmende zu haben, braucht es beides. Wobei die Community für die bloße Existenz wahrscheinlich wichtiger ist als die Crowd.
    1. Emodi said the good rapport the government initially had with journalists soured over time."Public relations people and spin doctors ruined that, because you stopped having conversations and started delivering messages and then that created suspicion," said Emodi. "And that's a bit of a spiral."According to Emodi, "people got a little paranoid" in the premier's office and that led to a desire to control information, and the message, more tightly.
  3. Apr 2024
  4. Mar 2024
    1. Selbst die Inkohärenz seines Werkes ließe sich mit Adorno und dessen Bemühen um eine »nichtsystematische Theorie« vergleichen. Hatte dieser doch schon festgestellt, dass das Denken im System nur das schlechte Produkt einer Welt ist, in der das System total herrscht. Adornos Konsequenz war, den Essay als die bestmögliche Form der Philosophie zu bestimmen, welche die Dinge nicht im Begriff festgenagelt, sondern in der Konstellation umstellt.
  5. Feb 2024
  6. Jan 2024
    1. Shorter cycles of research, reading, and knowledge assimilation are better than long ones. With every full cycle from research to knowledge assimilation, we learn more about the topic. When we know more, our decisions are more informed, thus our research gets more efficient. If, on the other hand, we take home a big pile of material to read and process, some of it will turn out be useless once we finished parts of the pile. To minimize waste, both of time and of paper, it’s beneficial to immerse oneself step by step and learn on the way instead of making big up-front decisions based on guesswork.
    1. The Paradox of Freedom: you can only be free if you follow rules. Decentralization means making our own choices. Unless we agree on some basic things, no one will see the result of our choices. Agreement can be layered: 100% agrees on a small set (labeling, authorship, …) 80% agrees on a larger set (places, dimensions) 5% agrees on many smaller sets (sizes, colors, …)
    1. Kommt ein Teil der Angst nicht auch aus der Furcht vor Fehlern? Oft funktioniert die Software eben doch nicht so gut wie die Bremsen meines Autos. Der Computer beruht auf den gleichen einfachen Prinzipien wie vor sechzig Jahren. Aber die Leistungsfähigkeit hat sich millionenfach gesteigert. Der Effekt dieser Leistungssteigerung auf die Programmierung ist allerdings sehr negativ – vor allem auf die Disziplin der Programmierung. Früher waren die Ressourcen extrem begrenzt, heute dagegen ist alles in Unmengen vorhanden: Speicher, Rechenleistung, Übertragungskapazitäten, einfach alles. Niemand muss mehr sparen. Programmieren heißt aber, Disziplin zu bewahren und jeden Moment darauf zu achten, dass man unnötige Komplexität vermeidet. Dieses Denken verschwindet mehr und mehr. Denn eine solche Optimierung erfordert Zeit. Sie wäre viel teurer, als einfach noch ein bisschen Hardware dazuzukaufen. Deswegen wird es nicht gemacht. Anzeige Warum ist das schlimm? Diese schnell erstellten Programme sind nicht nur weniger ökonomisch. Sie enthalten auch mehr Fehler.
  7. Dec 2023
  8. Nov 2023
  9. Oct 2023
    1. Es gibt ja die Regel nach "Ockhams Rasiermesser". Dieses Ökonomieprinzip sagt, dass es am erfolgversprechendsten ist, unter mehreren die einfachste Hypothese auszuwählen, um eine Beobachtung zu erklären. Aber nicht, weil sie am wahrscheinlichsten richtig ist, sondern weil sie am besten überprüfbar ist.
  10. Sep 2023
    1. Aber absolute Gewissheit hat man nur, wenn man einen Außerirdischen auch tatsächlich gesehen hat. Denn letztenendes geht's ja genau darum.Einen Außerirdischen zu finden und die eigene Speisekarte zu erweitern.Aus "Hypothetisch" wird "Esstisch". Thoriumkreaturen klingen nicht sehr genießbar.
  11. Aug 2023
    1. A text by Johanna Hedva The language of illness is a language of platitudes. Get well soon. Hoping for a quick recovery. Sending love. Take care in this tough time. Adjectives become few: quick, tough. The same verbs are used over and over: get, send, take, hope. The language of revolutions is also one of platitudes. Ain’t no power like the power of the people ’cause the power of the people won’t stop, say what. The people united will never be divided. No no we won’t go. No matter what they are asking for, protesters chant the same chants, their signs shout the slogans of before. When we are desperate for change, as we are both in illness and insurrection, our language drains of complexity, becomes honed to its barest essentials. We feel we cannot waste time with adjectives or similes or hypotaxis. No, we have a message to get across, and it’s crucial and immediate; we can’t afford to risk its meaning getting lost in too many words. As illness and revolution persist, though, the language made in them and about them deepens, lets in more nuance, absorbed in the acutely human experience of encountering one’s limits at the site of the world’s end. Are these my own limits, or are they the limits of the world? As they share a quality of language, illness and revolution both exist in similar kinds of time, the kind that feels crushingly present. The time is now, and it is long. However, the temporality in each can feel quite different, at first. In illness, time slows down so extremely as to become still and unbearably heavy. For the sick person, or someone caring for the sick, time freezes, hardening around the body, locking everything into this new center of gravity. All that can be done is to wait. The future gets further and further away, and the present moment—the one soaked in illness—becomes huge and cruel. In illness, the now feels like punishment. In revolution, when it’s still young and fervent, time froths around the fact that the time is now. No longer will we do what we’ve done in the past, from today forward, we will!—and it doesn’t matter what comes next, its function is the same. The promise of change, the zeal for a new tomorrow, the hope for a different future: these innovate the now, and the now becomes a joyous defiance of fate. At some point, though, the revolutionary now shifts toward the now of illness, wedged into what Arendt called “between past and future,” never-ending, waiting for change to come, waiting, still, waiting. Conversely, as many chronically ill and disabled folks know, the now of illness soon radicalizes, reveals its subversive power, and produces a politic. We tend to place illness and revolution opposite each other on the spectrum of action: illness is on the end of inaction, passivity, and surrender, while revolution is on the end of movement, surging and agitating. But maybe this spectrum is more like an ouroboros: one end feeding the other, transforming into, because of, made of the same stuff as the other. Many thought the revolution, when it came, would look like how it’s looked before: a protest in the streets, some good looting and riots, a coup, a mutiny. The world has been anticipating the fury that’s been building up, in everyone and everything, about everyone and everything, and we’ve ached for it to finally boil over and erupt. Now might be a good time to rethink what a revolution can look like. Perhaps it doesn’t look like a march of angry, abled bodies in the streets. Perhaps it looks something more like the world standing still because all the bodies in it are exhausted—because care has to be prioritized before it’s too late. Those of us for whom sickness is an everyday reality have long known about its revolutionary potential. We’ve known that a revolution can look like a horizontal body in a bed, unable to go to work. We’ve known that it might look like hundreds of thousands of bodies in bed, organizing a rent strike, separating life’s value from capitalist productivity. We’ve known that a revolution can look like the labor of a single nurse, keeping the patients in her ward alive, or the labor of a single friend, helping you buy groceries. We’ve known that it can look like the labor of nursing and care expanded exponentially, all of us reaching out to everyone we know, everyone we know reaching out to theirs. We’ve known that a revolution can look like a community pitching in $5 per person for someone’s medical treatment—we’ve wondered when that community would notice just how revolutionary the act of communal care is. The world has changed into something unrecognizable in these last weeks. The interminable now of illness is upon us, and the world’s ableism has risen forcefully to meet it. The world’s ableism has always been a thing, it’s just now getting closer to those who normally don’t feel it. What we’re watching happen with COVID-19 is what happens when care insists on itself, when the care of others becomes mandatory, when it takes up space and money and labor and energy. See how hard it is to do? The world isn’t built to give care freely and abundantly. It’s trying now, but look how alien a concept this is, how hard it is to make happen.⁣ It will take all of us—it will take all of us operating on the principle that if only some of us are well, none of us are. And that’s exactly why it’s revolutionary. Because care demands that we live as though we are all interconnected—which we are—it invalidates the myth of the individual’s autonomy. In care, we know our limits because they are the places where we meet each other. My limit is where you meet me, yours is where I find you, and, at this meeting place, we are linked, made of the same stuff, transforming into one because of the other. Care so often feels as though it has to be given to you by someone else, and this can also seem how revolution feels. We wait for the change to be given to us by those in control, we hope for those in power to come to their senses. So many activists know that as power can be taken, it can be taken back. As care can be given, we can also take it. I’ve always found solace in the fact that the words caregiver and caretaker mean the same thing. We take care, we give care, and it can be contagious, it can spread. It shows us that the limit of the world is always a place to be exploded, pushed against, transformed. Meet me there, at the end, where there is give and take, and let’s follow each other into the beginning.