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Are You a Trusted Twitterer?

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Measuring instrumentThose of you who love new social media and are measurement mavens, this blog’s for you.

Ever wonder how you’re doing on Twitter? Of course, you can’t miss the “followers” count at the top of your and everyone else’s twitter page. But, as you tell your fellow-twitterers, it’s not about the numbers. (Not that you’d turn down a doubling of your followership, of course…)

The urge to emulate former New York Mayor Ed Koch runs deep: “How’m I doin’?”

Well, courtesy of the Edelman PR agency  you can now measure your, well, your Tweetlevel. An interesting choice of words, because, well it’s hard to say just what’s being measured.

Measuring TweetLevel

Mechanically, you get a blended score of four attributes: Influence, Popularity, Engagement, and Trust. You can also get not only your own score, but the score of anyone else as well.

They tell you exactly how they compute each factor, and the total Tweetlevel. They also let you look under the hood, and and invite users to help improve the survey.

So let’s start by giving props. I’m no psychographic or statistics expert, but I’ve seen a few surveys, and this looks good. Note too that Edelman is perhaps the world’s leader in commercial trust measurement, authoring the Edelman Trust Barometer  for a decade now. CEO Richard Edelman builds conferences and speaking engagements around it. There are questions about any measurement of trust, but these guys are pros at doing trust surveys. It is a solid piece of work, and at the very least will raise good discussion questions.

Now for the fun.

Measuring Trust

Somebody hands you a ruler, the first thing you do is measure yourself. I clocked in at a TweetLevel of 43 (on a scale of 100). Higher than some, lower than others.

This blog is about trust, so that’s the one component on which I focused. My trust score was 39.9.

Now, just because I write about trust doesn’t mean I’m trusted. Oprah beats me. Her trust score is 64.5. OK, I can get with that.

Yet Oprah is surpassed by–Britney Spears! Spears sports a trust score of 68.7 Riddle me that one!

Now hold on to your hats; clocking in at third place, with a trust score of 95.7 is—Perez Hilton!  Of course. I should’ve seen it coming.

And hold on, in second place is—wait for it—John Mayer!  (In fairness, the NYTimes is number 5).

Why Measurement Mania is Death on Trust

It’s easy to lampoon surveys like this, but that’s only partly fair. The metrics for trust rely heavily on retweets, and on “via’s” (think of them as retweet derivatives, if you’re financially inclined). That’s not so crazy: number of citations is a decent metric for being ‘trusted’ in academia, for example.

I’ve written before  about measurement mania, the tendency in business these days to literally define management in terms of measurement (e.g. the silly phrase “if you can’t measure it you can’t manage it”). And I’ve written about the hazards of measuring trust in particular. 

The biggest problem comes not in the measurement, but in the subject matter.  So it is with trust. In the TweetLevel tool, trust is largely a function of how many people cite you. That’s perfectly reasonable. People definitely hang on Perez Hilton’s words a lot more than on mine.

But it does beg a huge trust question: trust Perez Hilton to do what? To say what? To behave how?  What is it that we trust about John Mayer–and is it the same thing as for which we’re trusting Oprah?

I trust my dog with my life–but not my ham sandwich. I trust Perez Hilton to tell me the straight poop in Hollywood–but not to show my daughter a night on the town. What is the object, the referent point, of the trust being measured?

Comparing trust metrics without defining the trust object is like comparing love metrics between a monastery and a brothel. By a perfectly obvious definition, the brothel gets a whole lotta lovin’ more than does the monastery.

In a sense, that’s right. And in another, ridiculous. Do we say a man with 5 marriages is ‘more loved’ than a man with one?  Is a parent with 5 kids more loved than a parent with one?  What is it that we’re measuring by using such metrics?

At this point, the numbers inevitably end up kind of looking like a popularity contest. There seems to be no referent point beyond the counting of incidents. Quality is overwhelmed by an onslaught of quantity. TweetLevel’s advice to increase trust scores is to get people to retweet you more. If everyone took this advice, Twitter would drown in derivative re-tweets. We’ve seen that movie before, on Wall Street.  It ends badly. 

On twitter, the mania to measure drives more empty-calorie retweets, which decreases original content, which ends in more retweet inflation as people try to game the game. 

It’s not that trust is ineffable, it’s just that it’s so contextual. Trust is a bit like obscenity; we know it when we see it, but that doesn’t mean we can easily define it, much less measure it. This is tail wagging the dog stuff.  The measurement system has a bad feedback loop to the content system; the mania for measurement ends up destroying the content it purports to measure.

Do You Want Meaning?  Or Measurement?

We can have meaning, or we can have precision. This is exactly the case in sub-atomic physics, where (as per Heisenberg) the act of measurement itself alters the thing being measured. It’s a perfect metaphor.

• You can say that you trust Perez Hilton to dish dirt, and Oprah to get real with you
• Or, you can say that Perez Hilton is 48.3% more trusted than Oprah
• But you can’t say one without rendering the other silly.

In accounting, there’s an age-old debate about how to define ‘profit.’ My finance prof Pearson Hunt said it the best: “Profit is–the bottom line of the income statement.” In other words: give it up; there is no one answer.

All you metrics mavens out there: when you get into the soft stuff, ask yourself: what is it you’re measuring? Is it the thing itself? Or is it some reflection of metrics in an infinite mirror? 
 

Tiger, Tiger, Burning Trust

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In case you haven’t heard, the world’s best and most famous golfer has got himself into a bit of a mess.

A sex scandal? To be sure. A public relations debacle? You betcha. But what does it tell us about trust?

The Longer You Wait…

It started back on November 27; that’s 23 days before I’m writing this. That’s a long time in scandal-years to go without comment by the protagonist.

It was December 14, two weeks and change into the story, that Accenture dropped Tiger. That too was a long time, but Accenture was by far the earliest and most definitive of his endorsements to drop him. On the day Accenture dropped him, Nike and Pepsi conspicuously announced their continued endorsement. (Tag Heuer, part of LVMH, hedged its bets, later dropping him).

Woods has been visibly silent to date. Now, he is being given public advice by none other than Snoop Dogg.

Tiger didn’t lack public relations advice from the public. The NY Times on November 28 quoted Mike Paul, founder of MGP Associates, a PR firm:

“My advice to Tiger is pretty simple,” Paul said. “Own it, say it yourself, say it yourself with full conviction and responsibility and get it out of the way.

“You have an opportunity to change rumor and innuendo into truth. Moving past fear and doubt — that’s something they did not do well during the first 24 hours.”

Even a Saturday Night Live parody isn’t the height of bad PR. Yesterday’s NYTimes op-ed by Frank Rich now positions Woods as the poster child for a generation of liars and posers. Heavy stuff.

Predictions are risky, of course, but we probably all agree that Tiger’s delay makes it more difficult, not less, for him to stage a comeback in the court of PR.

The PR Perspective: Tiger Just the Latest to Be Taught the Watergate Lesson

Maybe Tiger was listening to his lawyers. In such cases, criminal defense attorneys often warn their clients not to say anything. Hindsight is 20-20, but it seems that Tiger’s legal issues were nothing compared to his PR issues.

You would think that if the world learned nothing from Watergate, it was that the cover-up is always worse than the crime. And yet, consider the list of public figures that continue to figure they can outrun the capacity for the truth to embarrass them. John Edwards, Bill Clinton, John Ensign, Jim McGreevey, Kobe Bryant, Eliot Spitzer, Bernie Kerik, Newt Gingrich, Jimmy Swaggart, Gary Hart, Larry Craig, Mark Foley, David Letterman, Ted Haggard, Mark Sanford. And on, and on.

From a PR perspective, the answer is clear. Get the truth out, fast. It’s what I teach as Name It and Claim It. It is first and foremost an acknowledgement of reality. It may, or may not, then lead to an apology. Job 1 is stop pretending you’re in charge of reality—get the truth out, because if you don’t, it will most definitely out you.

What Scandals Tell Us About Trust

At the heart of trust is one’s relationship to the Truth. The Trust Equation consists of credibility, reliability, intimacy and self-orientation. If someone ranks high on the first three and low on the last, we consider them trustworthy. And if someone lies, it calls all four into question.

He who lies is, by definition, not credible. If he lied in a calculated, ongoing way, we have to question his motives—which suggests very high self-orientation. If he lies in a careful, calculated, painstaking manner, then we question his intimacy—we can’t trust what he says even in confidential, seemingly intimate, moments. And if he carefully lies from selfish motives, we certainly don’t find him reliable.

This is damning stuff. But what troubles us most is the implied sense of arrogance. The implication is that the liar believes we are stupid enough to be played for saps. And the longer the delay in telling the truth, the more the continued arrogance. It suggests the liar still believes he can spin us.

Consider Spitzer—damned for his hypocrisy as a do-gooder, then caught. By contrast, his successor Governor Patterson, on his 2nd day, called a press conference to pre-emptively confess all sorts of drug use and sexcapades by himself and his wife. Yawn, said the press.

But it’s more than just truth-telling. We want the hypocrisy dealt with as well. Letterman owned up immediately, but he also apologized. Interestingly, Patterson confessed quickly, but didn’t apologize. Both are in the American tradition. We’re not as Puritanical as Europeans make us out to be; we are a tolerant nation when it comes to all sorts of activities. But what we don’t want is someone who lies about his motives. It’s OK for Barney Frank to be gay; it’s not OK for Larry Craig to torturously insist he isn’t.

What Tiger Can Do

If Tiger were single, it’d be easier for him. What he can’t do, however, is to continue being hypocritical by pretending to be the marrying kind (unless he undergoes some massive conversion). Nor can he continue to pretend he’s in charge of the Truth by insisting on some right to privacy. He gave that up when he received endorsements.

There is one party that came out of this well, I think, and that is Accenture. Tiger’s rectitude was more important to them than to Nike, given their respective businesses. Accenture took decisive action, which is what values-based companies do.

Their silence about their decision, unlike Tiger’s, I take to be principled: preaching ethics in an ethics scandal just highlights your own form of arrogance. Best to be silent and let others formulate their own opinions.

What’s yours?

A Story About the Power of Stories

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The power of stories is well-described in the business literature.  Some of the most famous are stories about story-telling: 1001 Arabian Nights, Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, and its American version, It’s a Wonderful Life.
The why of stories is also well-explained. One author suggests that stories are powerful because they plow common ground, create meaning, build community, and are memorable.
There is, however, another reason why story-telling is so powerful. Let me illustrate by, of course, a story (thanks to Charlie Ortman).
A man was shipwrecked on a desert island. Years went by. A decade. Then another. 

One day a rescue ship arrived. The rescuers found the man healthy and happy. “Is this your house?” they asked, pointing to a comfortable dwelling the man had constructed. “Yes,” he said.

“And this lovely hut over here?” 
“That’s my church,” the man said.
“And what’s this?” the rescuers asked, pointing to a somewhat disheveled, faded hut.
“Ah,” said the man drily, “that’s the church I used to attend.” 

I’ll resist the temptation to say what my interpretation was. Later, I realized it could have been interpreted in another way–at least one other way.

Stories Permit Influence without Rejection

It’s my observation that generally the worst way to get someone to do something is to tell them that they should do it—and then try to justify the advice. There is a human built-in resistance to taking advice, unless accompanied by a serious attempt to first hear out the advisee.

Stories provide a powerful supplement to the critical role of listening in this reciprocal dance.

There is something Teflon- and Rorschach-like about stories. In their telling, the fingerprints of the story teller are removed. The listener hears largely what (s)he wants to hear, without the usual baggage of resistance against the advisor. This is often true even when the teller’s intended meaning is clear. 

Consider the story of the shipwrecked man. 
What meaning do you hear in that story? 
Please add your comment below—so we can all see how our own meanings differ.   
 

HBS’s Bill Sahlman on the Financial Crisis: Why it Happened, How to Fix It

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Few people are more qualified to explain what went wrong in the financial industry than Harvard Business School’s Bill Sahlman.  His resume covers just about every aspect of the industry.

In an HBS Working Knowledge paper titled Management and the Financial Crisis (We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us …)  he gives us a very special view of what happened—broad and deep, and holistic to boot. He also gives us an idea of what should be done.

He gets an A+ for the explanation; for the recommendation, maybe not so much.

My summary cannot do his paper justice; but to whet your appetite, I’ll touch a few bases.

Managerial Incompetence Was the Driving Factor

Black swan theory fans notwithstanding, Sahlman argues this meltdown was not unique except in scope and scale. What we had was a massive failure of five largely managerial systems: Incentives, Control and Information Technology, Accounting, Human Capital, and Culture.

Sahlman also flatly says “Greed played a role but the bigger problem was incompetence.” What he means by competence largely comes down to managers. I find this hugely commonsensical, and rare at the same time. In other words, I think he’s very right.

He is inclined also to give a bye to some of the usual suspects: accounting firms, boards of directors, and regulators, to some extent. His reasoning is hard to argue with: the complexity of the products engaged in ran far beyond the relatively meager abilities of those in the aforementioned roles.

Sahlman singles out Goldman Sachs and JPMorgan Chase’s Dimon as examples of good managers who clearly avoided most of the damage caused by their inept competitors.
His diagnosis, refreshingly, puts the blame squarely at the feet of business itself—particularly management. A management that runs the company through over-leveraging and over-optimism is a management team that is grossly incompetent. Even they wouldn’t have generally wanted the results they ended up with.

What I also like about Sahlman’s view is that it treats impersonal tools like incentives not as exogenous dehumanizing variables, but as things completely within the realm of management—and he makes management squarely responsible for their use. As far as I’m concerned, this is the best of HBS talking; the old-school HBS that assumes managers have a responsibility to run organizations holistically, for the long run, and in the interest of stakeholders–not slavishly to a few slanted metrics.

The Solution–an Overseer?

After such a great analysis, I’m left a little cold with Sahlman’s solution. It is to have a sort of outside observer—not a government interveener, since Sahlman is not sanguine about government intervention, but a new kind of monitor. This monitor would have a scope to cover the five broad areas Sahlman outlined at the outset.

The problem is not with having a holistic view; I’m all for it. And while Sahlman is rather vague about the statutory authority of the “monitor,” I figure that could be figured out.

My concern is that, in the end, Sahlman sounds like the consummate insider; his specific knowledge of the situation runs the risk of blinding him to the system’s flaws.
In this case, the one flaw that worries me is the belief that one more systemic overview will finally get it right. It’s the idea that our problem is the lack of a comprehensive enough model; that if we just had a little more data and a better model, we could finally model the world.

Here I have to agree with Taleb’s Black Swan theory: the problem with models is that they never model what hasn’t been envisioned. And while you won’t get a better dose of commonsense in business than what Sahlman serves up, I’m still sceptical about this part.

A Different Idea: Management by Values

So do I have a better idea? Well, I do have another idea. And it lies in the one area Sahlman puts least emphasis on—culture. While Sahlman talks about ethical cultures, he seems generally to mean a focus on long-term risk management and an aversion to illegality. Necessary, but not sufficient, for a good culture.

Those traits are jacks for openers. We need to be cultivating belief systems, not just management control systems.  We need mental models that talk about relationships, that actually live out the idea of long-term relationships instead of relegating them to the thin air of risk management managers.

We need baked-in beliefs about the role of business in society, that get promulgated not by monitors and smart managers, but by high school teachers and b-school profs, by bloggers and journalists and marketing managers and bankers alike, and in the most mundane areas of business. That’s a culture: a set of beliefs that people unconsciously share about ‘big’ things like fairness, relationships and the value of one’s word.

One of the best insights I ever got from HBS could easily have been articulated by Sahlman himself, I suspect: as things get more complicated, you’re better off managing by values than by policies.
 

Pin the Credit on Someone Else

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Let loose your favorite search engine on the phrase “pin the blame.” Wikipedia alone will serve you up thousands of examples, like this, from their entry on The Bourne Identity:

While in reality it was the U.S. government who took Marie captive, it has pinned the blame on a fictitious powerful Chinese drug lord…

It’s a common enough phrase that we don’t think about it much. But on reflection, it has two implications:

  1. the verb “pin”—to narrow down, narrow in on, focus, sharpen, highlight, single out, point to
  2. the object “blame”—guilt, condemnation, disapproval, (negative) responsibility, culpability, fault, shame

Basically: to bring down on another a concentrated dose of social pressure as being the primary cause of something really bad.

Pinning the Credit

So I’m in the car the other day (pulled over—don’t tweet and drive), in the midst of a twit-up with Rebecca Woodhead (@rebeccawoodhead). She had quoted Chris Brogan to a client, which had the effect of convincing the client to do what Brogan had suggested.

Which happened to be what Rebecca herself had been telling the client–apparently for some time—to no avail.

Full of good British humor about it, she jested, “I guess I should have thought to pin the credit on Brogan earlier.”

Pin the credit. I love it. Puts it right up there with “fancy a cheeky pint?” in my list of favorite Britticisms.

And higher still in my list of wisdom-bites. Pin the credit:

Basically: to divert to another a concentrated dose of social approval for being the primary cause of something really good.

Pinning the Credit, Reciprocity, and Collaboration

A willingness to pin the credit on another is a deceptively simple way to achieve several goals. First—as Rebecca’s example perfectly shows—it can often get things done faster, breaking a logjam by bringing in a third party or an appeal to authority.

Second, it signals a willingness to subordinate your own ego—something as valuable as it is rare in consultative and sales and support people. The client picks up that signal very clearly.

Third, it signals something to the credited party too. It says you recognize and value them, and that you’re willing to do them a favor. And favors invite reciprocal favors.

Fourth, that whole favor-giving thing requires a time perspective longer than the transaction at hand. By showing you’re willing to play that game, you suggest a plethora of ways to work together going forward. You can collaborate.

Pinning the credit shows you are polite, you can defer gratification, you are not in the game for your own ego, you can be trusted to collaborate because you’re in it for the long haul.

A powerful three words, I’d say.

Pin the Credit on Someone Else

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Let loose your favorite search engine on the phrase “pin the blame.” Wikipedia alone will serve you up thousands of examples, like this, from their entry on The Bourne Identity:

While in reality it was the U.S. government who took Marie captive, it has pinned the blame on a fictitious powerful Chinese drug lord…

It’s a common enough phrase that we don’t think about it much. But on reflection, it has two implications:

  1. the verb “pin”—to narrow down, narrow in on, focus, sharpen, highlight, single out, point to
  2. the object “blame”—guilt, condemnation, disapproval, (negative) responsibility, culpability, fault, shame

Basically: to bring down on another a concentrated dose of social pressure as being the primary cause of something really bad.

Pinning the Credit.

So I’m in the car the other day (pulled over—don’t tweet and drive), in the midst of a twit-up with social media columnist Rebecca Woodhead (@rebeccawoodhead). She had quoted Chris Brogan, another social media consultant, to a client, which had the effect of convincing the client to do what Brogan had suggested–which happened to be what Rebecca herself had been telling the client for some time, to no avail

Full of good British humor about it, she jested, “I guess I should have thought to pin the credit on Brogan earlier.”

Pin the credit. I love it. Puts it right up there with “fancy a cheeky pint?” in my list of favorite Briticisms.

And higher still in my list of wisdom-bites. Pin the credit:to divert to another a concentrated dose of social approval for being the primary cause of something really good.

Pinning the Credit, Reciprocity, and Collaboration

A willingness to pin the credit on another is a deceptively simple way to achieve several goals. First, as Rebecca’s example perfectly shows, it can often get things done faster, breaking a logjam by bringing in a third party or an appeal to authority.

Second, it signals a willingness to subordinate your own ego, something as valuable as it is rare in consultative and sales and support people. The client picks up that signal very clearly.

Third, it signals something to the credited party too. It says you recognize and value them, and that you’re willing to do them a favor. And favors invite reciprocal favors.

Fourth, that whole favor-giving thing requires a time perspective longer than the transaction at hand. By showing you’re willing to play that game, you suggest a multitude of ways to work together going forward. You can collaborate.

Pinning the credit shows you are polite, you can defer gratification, you are not in the game for your own ego, you can be trusted to collaborate because you’re in it for the long haul.

A powerful three words, I’d say.

November Carnival of Trust is Up

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Jordan Furlong, of Law21, is this month’s host of the Carnival of Trust.  He brings a most interesting perspective to it.

Most obviously, Jordan’s a lawyer.  Second, he has that bemused  Canadian perspective about things south of the border.  Finally, two of his interests shine through: innovation and collaboration.

These traits show in his choices, and in his thoughtful commentary linking his choices. 

Jordan has written about trust before.  Perhaps that’s why he moves easily among the various blogposts he has chosen to highlight in this month’s carnival.

Pop on over to the Carnival at Jordan’s site, and here’s a taste of what you’ll get:

– How recent thinking on the economics of law firms has affected client trust levels;

– The effect on trust of both in-court tactics and extra-court marketing;

– The ties linking referrals, trust, innovation and collaboration;

– The relationship between trust and risk;

– How contracts and trust are in some ways opposed.

Add to that a delightful vignette, and a dozen extra-credit mentions.

Good stuff, food for the heart and the brain alike.  Jordan has done fine work here for all thougthful people interested in the subject.

Many thanks, Jordan, for a most excellent Carnival. I invite all readers to go benefit from his hosting.

 

You can also look at past Carnivals, and enter your own blogposts or those of others for future carnivals by going to the Carnival of Trust homepage.

 

 

 

Trust and Golf: How Neither Makes Sense

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I’ve been reading Trust Agents by Chris Brogan and Julien Smith.

I was particularly struck by the way they told Robert Scoble‘s story (a success story, but not usually painted as a trust story).  They call Scoble one of the first trust agents ever on the World Wide Web. 

Though hindsight is 20-20, many people watching Scoble’s moves at the time would have labeled him at best irreverent, irresponsible, and committed to career suicide … at worst a complete idiot. But looking at him through the lens of what it takes to become trustworthy, I’m siding with Brogan and Smith—what he did was brilliant.

The Scoble Story

In 2004, Scoble, then a Microsoft employee, took to blogging about serious issues Microsoft and its end users were experiencing. He even candidly sung the praises of Firefox, Microsoft’s Internet Explorer competitor.

Not only did Scoble not get fired, he got readers. And Microsoft got business. Brogan and Smith report, “People began eating up everything he said. If his very next blog post had praised Notepad as ‘the best app ever,’ his readers probably would have said, ‘You’re so right!’”

Scoble attributes part of this phenomenon to something he learned when he helped run retail stores in the 1980’s. If he told a customer that a competitor had a better selection, they often came back and asked to do business with him anyway, “’cause I like you better.”  (Maybe he got it from the Macy’s Santa Claus in Miracle on 34th Street, who recommended competitor Gimbel’s on occasion).

What’s Golf Got to Do with It?

One of the reasons trust is so hard to get a grip on is that it’s rife with paradox. For example, the thing we’re most afraid to say or do is precisely what will build the most trust. Or, in Scoble’s case, the best way to generate sales is to have the courage to be brutally honest about your product’s weaknesses and your competitor’s strengths.

Here’s the link to golf (pardon the pun): I am not a golfer. To me, the only logical way to get that tiny little ball to travel hundreds of yards off the first tee towards that tiny little cup is to hit it as hard as possible. If you’re a golfer, you just shook your head in dismay because you know what my strategy will yield: a nice left hook into a thick forest of trees.

Scoble came to be seen as someone who could be trusted because he knew that building trust is like a golf swing: hype your product and you hook the ball; be honest and land it square on the green.

Golf Aside, Motives Matter

Leaving the golf metaphor behind for a moment, it’s important to remember that motives really do matter. Buyers have a sixth sense for manipulation. Had Scoble been talking trash about his products with the intention of closing deals, his strategy would have backfired. Which leads us to another paradox: the more you try to build trust with the intention of closing deals, the less deals you close.

Take a look at your business model. How might the lessons of golf—and Scoble—improve your game?

October Carnival of Trust is Now Being Served

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Scot Herrick, author of the delightful blog Cube Rules, is this month’s host of the Carnival of Trust. 

For those who don’t know, the Carnival of Trust is a monthly collection of the most interesting and noteworthy posts from the Kingdom of Blogs over the past month.  Each month, the Carnival is hosted by an experienced blogger–not myself.  The definition and selection of "interesting and noteworthy" is left to the host; each host infuses the selection and commentary with their own point of view.  The result is a great chunk of reading for you.

This month Scot has collected some terrific blogposts that answer the following questions:

– Would you rather fix your customer’s problem, or be right?  Think carefully now…

– Can you break promises with your employees, or not?  And if so, how many?

– What’s a great acronym for remembering the components of RESPECT?

– How can you get your parents to trust you?

– Would you rather hire a relative, be hired by one, or recommend one?

– How can you market yourself as being trustworthy?  (It’s not a trick question).

 You don’t get this much concentrated good stuff anywhere else.  Treat yourself to a choice bit of edutainment; you’ll love the way it tastes, honest!

Many thanks to Scot Herrick for hosting this month.  If you liked this month’s Carnival of Trust, you might enjoy looking at past Carnivals as well.  And if you’d like to see your blogpost up there in the lights, please do contribute your blogpost (or someone else’s you’d like to nominate) at this site. 

Again, enjoy the October Carnival of Trust.

 

 

 

Digital Just Wants to be Analog

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You’ve heard the phrase “information just wants to be free?” I’d be grateful to anyone who can actually track down the source of that quotation; my puny efforts have failed.

In the meantime, please accept it as a nice play on words for an introduction.

All Things Digital Seem to Aspire to Analog

Have you noticed, with all the talk about digital this and that, that the actual goal of most digitization seems to be a reversion to analog?
Think about it. What is HDTV about except an attempt to recreate analog? Aren’t video games trying to seem more and more ‘realistic,’ i.e. analog-like?

What are digital sound and movie recordings trying to do?  To achieve higher and higher fidelity to a life-like, very analog, experience.

Cisco Systems  is making great use of a nearly-analog version of videoconferencing.

In the science fiction realm, the ‘coolest’ stuff – I always though- were holographs and transponders. One is a near-perfect image, the other a way of obliterating time and space barriers to sweet home analog.

And don’t forget everyone’s favorite digital creation- robots.   Not industrial robots, of course, but analog robots like R2D2 and 3CPO – robots hopelessly stuck with things like British accents and adolescent attitudes.

Even digital movies are generally about very analog creatures – cartoon versions of ogres and mules, for example.   How much more analog can you get?

Digital just wants to be analog.

Why the Analog World Appeals to Digi-Philes

The basic appeal of digital breaks down to three factors: freedom of space, freedom of time, and freedom of editing. Digital lets you mess with stuff, unbounded by annoying limitations like time zones, protein, and long distances.

But home sweet analog, analog on the range, analog is where the heart is. It’s messy, sloppy, unpredictable, only approximately causal, but gosh it feels awfully real. Sometimes reality bites, but other times it’s all mom and puppies and roller coasters and exultation.  Even pain is drenched in feeling.

The desire to be digital—OK stay with me, I’m reaching on this one- comes from our desire to control.  And the desire to stay analog comes from our desire for complexity and richness of experience.

The adolescent dream, of course, is to tie the two together.  (I call it adolescent not in a derogatory way, but in the sense of a powerful desire to integrate things into one.)  Logically, you can either make digital look analog—or make analog look digital.

Analog, Digital and Business

Business is loaded with examples of trying to turn analog reality into digital form – and it is, indeed, very much about control. Back in the day, the word used for internal accounting systems literally was “control.”

Control was accomplished by the systematic collection, manipulation and analysis of data. When Robert McNamara started at Ford Motors in finance, he said they used to evaluate outstanding receivables by weighing the pile of invoices. That was analog control. He of course moved it to digital.

The digital desire for control hasn’t changed that much. We now have process control meters or processes just about everywhere, and more analytic firepower at our fingertips than we know what to do with. Literally.

We now have digital mantras: “if you can’t measure it, you can’t manage it.”  The ideology of digital has decided to co-opt the field of management. I wonder what Peter Drucker would think of that (it’s his 100th birthday this year)?

Fortunately, digital just wants to be analog. The pursuit of digital brings us great benefits, but at the end of the day, it’s only as good as fake analog.  We will revert to the mean, and the mean is analog.

Jorge Luis Borges wrote a charming short story about the end of such searches.   The only perfect map is a full-size representation of the original.  Which makes the map redundant; and worse, boring.

What analog reality are we striving so diligently to represent digitally? And what price are we paying for the illusion of control?