Showing posts with label irrational tirade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label irrational tirade. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 December 2009
Attention, Saviours of the World
There is still great hope for humanity in this world. People still believe change is possible and that perhaps, someday mankind will actually live in utopia. Well, that’s all fine, but at what point did we start believing this would be easy? When will the clichés end? If all we needed to save the world was love, wouldn’t it have been saved by now?!?Let us assume, just for the sake of argument, that life is black and white, and love, joy and other happy things can save the world. Surely if that was the case, some bright spark would have had found a way to institutionalize love by now. Wouldn’t some intellectual have proposed establishing a Ministry of Care & Affection which could ensure that love was equitably distributed across the general populace? And why hasn’t anyone made love and caring mandatory behaviour in schools yet? Or found a way to tax hate?So, OK, maybe life is a little bit grey. And maybe, we don’t have all the answers. Isn’t it time that we admitted this to ourselves and stopped pretending? Ever wonder what that kind of honesty would be like? Here is my suggested viewing for all future saviours of the world - Hugh Laurie, from “A Bit of Fry and Laurie” singing “All We Gotta Do Is…”
Friday, 25 September 2009
What Economists can learn from Impressionists
So this may seem like a crazy idea – after all, what do economists have to do with an art movement originating in France in the 19th century? Not a lot and perhaps, that is the problem. Indeed, most economists might be indignant with this suggestion. What, pray tell, can scientists such as themselves learn from an art movement?
For the uninitiated, Impressionism was a 19th century art movement that originated in France. It was a reaction against the formalism that characterised the academic art of that time. Although, the Impressionists were still Realists, which was the accepted art movement of the time, their innovative methods led them to develop a different meaning of reality than the one the Realists sought.
The Impressionists were more interested in the effects of light and they sought to understand its effects on form. They understood colours and how they reflect from object to object and how the very nature of colour changes with time. Their quest to capture light led them to work ‘en plein air’, outdoors and in the very heart of the scene they sought to capture.
As the movement evolved, the artists realized that their depictions changed by the minute as the light in which they viewed them changed. Impressionism became an attempt to create a spontaneous, undetailed depiction of the world through careful representation of the effects of natural and reflected light on objects. And so their concern for representing the individual object faded, while concern for representing that fleeting instant, the subjective impression grew.
This realization - that objectivity is not achievable in art, was groundbreaking. It provided a natural disclaimer for all Impressionist art – this was not an objective isolated reality being depicted, it was the human impression of that reality and therefore could be imperfect. Reality became what the individual saw; it was subjective and dynamic.
Economists tend to think of themselves as above society or as part of some über-society filled Homo Economicus – the rational man. In this perfect reality, economic models function perfectly and all the assumptions on which they are based are true. But what if we don’t actually live in such a world? What if the Impressionists are right? What if reality actually is subjective?
Isn’t it time economists had the same realization about their work – that no matter how hard they try, they can never depict a completely objective reality? If you think about it, every single economic theory is deeply embedded in the very culture of the economist. Each measure, each hypothesis is trying to see reality from different coloured lenses and yet economists choose to pretend these colours don’t exist.
Colour and light should matter just as much for Paul Krugman as they mattered for Berthe Morisot. Of course, for economists, colour and light, are metaphors for the context of situation they are trying to assess. Everything is contextual and all economic theories should come with a disclaimer that clearly identifies the author’s perspective. I just think economics would be a more enlightening subject if it was less caught up in trying to validate itself as a science and more observant and aware of the ever-changing social paradigm in which it exists.
Merely recognizing the colour and light that falls through their lenses is not enough, however. Economists need to understand how the changing light affects the reality they are trying to understand. Just as in art, the economic landscape of a region looks very different in the darkness and in the light and economists need a more nuanced understanding.
Impressionism was an attempt to capture a snapshot of the dynamic surroundings we live in a way that reflected this dynamism instead of trying to freeze the viewer in that instant. Monet painted the bridge in his garden at Giverny over and over again during different times of day and in different seasons in order to really understand the different realities possible.
Perhaps it’s time economists worked ‘en plein air’ and immersed themselves in long periods of study in the very heart of the object of their study, in order to see it from different angles and understand how it changes. Economic history, therefore, becomes far more important than it is given credit for. Understanding the causal links between a change in our impression of the reality and an event in our environment will be crucial to creating a good depiction.
Camille Pissaro, one of the pioneers of the Impressionist technique and the most consistent contributor to the movement, once said to his young students, "We are all the subjects of impressions, and some of use seek to convey the impressions to others. In the art of communicating impressions lies the power of generalizing without losing that logical connection of parts to the whole which satisfies the mind." If only, some economists had attended that class.
For the uninitiated, Impressionism was a 19th century art movement that originated in France. It was a reaction against the formalism that characterised the academic art of that time. Although, the Impressionists were still Realists, which was the accepted art movement of the time, their innovative methods led them to develop a different meaning of reality than the one the Realists sought.
The Impressionists were more interested in the effects of light and they sought to understand its effects on form. They understood colours and how they reflect from object to object and how the very nature of colour changes with time. Their quest to capture light led them to work ‘en plein air’, outdoors and in the very heart of the scene they sought to capture.
As the movement evolved, the artists realized that their depictions changed by the minute as the light in which they viewed them changed. Impressionism became an attempt to create a spontaneous, undetailed depiction of the world through careful representation of the effects of natural and reflected light on objects. And so their concern for representing the individual object faded, while concern for representing that fleeting instant, the subjective impression grew.
This realization - that objectivity is not achievable in art, was groundbreaking. It provided a natural disclaimer for all Impressionist art – this was not an objective isolated reality being depicted, it was the human impression of that reality and therefore could be imperfect. Reality became what the individual saw; it was subjective and dynamic.
Economists tend to think of themselves as above society or as part of some über-society filled Homo Economicus – the rational man. In this perfect reality, economic models function perfectly and all the assumptions on which they are based are true. But what if we don’t actually live in such a world? What if the Impressionists are right? What if reality actually is subjective?
Isn’t it time economists had the same realization about their work – that no matter how hard they try, they can never depict a completely objective reality? If you think about it, every single economic theory is deeply embedded in the very culture of the economist. Each measure, each hypothesis is trying to see reality from different coloured lenses and yet economists choose to pretend these colours don’t exist.
Colour and light should matter just as much for Paul Krugman as they mattered for Berthe Morisot. Of course, for economists, colour and light, are metaphors for the context of situation they are trying to assess. Everything is contextual and all economic theories should come with a disclaimer that clearly identifies the author’s perspective. I just think economics would be a more enlightening subject if it was less caught up in trying to validate itself as a science and more observant and aware of the ever-changing social paradigm in which it exists.
Merely recognizing the colour and light that falls through their lenses is not enough, however. Economists need to understand how the changing light affects the reality they are trying to understand. Just as in art, the economic landscape of a region looks very different in the darkness and in the light and economists need a more nuanced understanding.
Impressionism was an attempt to capture a snapshot of the dynamic surroundings we live in a way that reflected this dynamism instead of trying to freeze the viewer in that instant. Monet painted the bridge in his garden at Giverny over and over again during different times of day and in different seasons in order to really understand the different realities possible.
Perhaps it’s time economists worked ‘en plein air’ and immersed themselves in long periods of study in the very heart of the object of their study, in order to see it from different angles and understand how it changes. Economic history, therefore, becomes far more important than it is given credit for. Understanding the causal links between a change in our impression of the reality and an event in our environment will be crucial to creating a good depiction.
Camille Pissaro, one of the pioneers of the Impressionist technique and the most consistent contributor to the movement, once said to his young students, "We are all the subjects of impressions, and some of use seek to convey the impressions to others. In the art of communicating impressions lies the power of generalizing without losing that logical connection of parts to the whole which satisfies the mind." If only, some economists had attended that class.
Friday, 8 May 2009
An Ode to a Little Black Book
Imagine your memory is an art gallery or a history museum - filled with exhibitions with different themes.
Like every museum, even your memory needs a guide - leading you through the exhibition - pointing out interesting facts about each artefact and narrating funny anecdotes that one would never understand with just a picture. "And this picture was taken when the camera fell from her hands because a busker on the Champs Elysee frightened her."
So in this museum in my mind, who is the guide? I like to think my little black book, my little diary is my guide. It contains a blow-by-blow account of the trip and I can write exactly what I saw and did, who I met and talked to and of course, what I was thinking at that minute. After all, even though a picture is worth a thousand words, sometimes, even that isn't enough, is it?
But I have often asked myself - why bother? Why bother building the museum? Why bother trying to remember every minute? This doubt reaches its peak when instead of sleeping on the beach in the glorious sunshine, I am desperately trying to note down what happened yesterday. Is it worth ruining the now to remember the past? Well, obviously the past must have been fantastic enough for me to want to document it.
I guess its just me desperately trying to hold on to my memories, hold on to the good times a bit longer. To continue the museum train of thought, this is essentially the same rationale for the success of gift shops and souveneir shops. People like to have something that reminds them of what they learnt or saw. I am like that one child clutching tightly at the cheap souveneir toy even though I know I would probably have lost it or forgotten it by the evening. That may have sounded far more depressing than was intended. Forgetting would be depressing but I don't want to forget - hence, the diary, the little black book. Therefore, keeping a diary is a sign of hope, something that will always help you remember.
As you might have guessed by now, if you are still with me, this is an ode to my diary. The one that got lost. My little companion traveled with me all over the world and contains an entire wing of the museum in my mind. And I lost him. If I were still in the place where I lost him, I would put up LOST notices all over that would probably read something like this:
LBB and I in happier times - at 1:56 a.m. at the LCC Terminal of Kuala Lumpur Airport last year
MISSING: LITTLE BLACK BOOK
Value: Priceless
Description: Faithful; Nondescript; Leather-bound; Filled with yellowing pages with beetle-tracks like handwriting on it; Answers to the name of LBB(if it could hear).
Please return immediately to Ridhima. Contact at xxxxx
Saturday, 19 May 2007
The Joy of Description
Have you ever had the pleasure of reading Katherine Mansfield? Or P.G. Wodehouse, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Louisa May Alcott, Jules Verne for that matter? Or so many other authors of similar caliber? One distinctive trait that all of them have is a wonderful tendency to describe situations, scenes, sensations, emotions, people and life, in general in great loving detail. It is as though they took the time to notice these things, or rather, they took the time to imagine these situations in such vivid details and mention them. This is so much more pleasing than the present situation where the eloquence of people has been reduced to words such as 'stuff' and 'things'. Such a shame!
This is not exclusive to just the written word, but also in songs. Nowadays, most songs have lyrics that even a 3rd grader would find simple. Not only has this afflicted the English music scene, but also international ones. Love messages have been translated into short, abrupt vulgar passages like "I freaking, fucking love you." Does no one have the time to describe anymore?
Don't say it was red. Describe it. What shade was it? Was it crimson, burgundy or was it maroon? Was it the kind of crimson that you see when you hold red wine out in sunlight? Or was it the kind of crimson that kings of yore wore?
Don't just say it was a nice day. Say "The sky was a clear, beautiful azure blue. The trees were freshly dewed, green and swaying gently with the breeze as though they were waving a friendly greeting to old friends. Birds flew overhead and cried out in joy. It seemed as though they were trying to say, "God's in his heaven and all is well with the world." I stepped outside into this wonderfully orchestrated display of 'La Dolce Vita' and couldn't help but think what a nice day it was." It truly was such a nice day but the person you were speaking to never realized because you reduced heaven to a standard order social response.
So, please dear reader, I request you, the next time you have to narrate an incident or write lyrics for a song, take your time and express yourself at your leisure. Describe it lovingly, leisurely in all detail and share the moments with everyone else.
This is not exclusive to just the written word, but also in songs. Nowadays, most songs have lyrics that even a 3rd grader would find simple. Not only has this afflicted the English music scene, but also international ones. Love messages have been translated into short, abrupt vulgar passages like "I freaking, fucking love you." Does no one have the time to describe anymore?
Don't say it was red. Describe it. What shade was it? Was it crimson, burgundy or was it maroon? Was it the kind of crimson that you see when you hold red wine out in sunlight? Or was it the kind of crimson that kings of yore wore?
Don't just say it was a nice day. Say "The sky was a clear, beautiful azure blue. The trees were freshly dewed, green and swaying gently with the breeze as though they were waving a friendly greeting to old friends. Birds flew overhead and cried out in joy. It seemed as though they were trying to say, "God's in his heaven and all is well with the world." I stepped outside into this wonderfully orchestrated display of 'La Dolce Vita' and couldn't help but think what a nice day it was." It truly was such a nice day but the person you were speaking to never realized because you reduced heaven to a standard order social response.
So, please dear reader, I request you, the next time you have to narrate an incident or write lyrics for a song, take your time and express yourself at your leisure. Describe it lovingly, leisurely in all detail and share the moments with everyone else.
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
Circus Librarius
Yet another day, yet another endless book of graphs and figures, and of course time wasted (cough cough.. i mean, studying) in the library. The CBS Library at Solbjerg Plads is a fascinating place. With such striking architecture, it is a wonder that people are able to concentrate.
Today, I had the luck to acquire a prime seat in the library, with a fantastic view of the whole place. It was a seat on the ground floor facing the heart of the library. From it, one could stare at all floors at once. While I was sitting there, it occured to me that this fitted the image I had of the imperial pavilion at one of the Circus Maximus (Maximii ?!?) of Ancient Rome. Only I wasn't the Emperor. I was more like the Emperor's flunkie who stood to the side and ran errands for 'His Imperial Majesty.'
I don't how the entertainment I had compares today with the Circus Maximus of yore, but I have to say that this was pretty fun as well. The most amusing sight has got to be the people who I like to call the 'Seat Snatchers'. They are the people who enter the library and beginning scanning the place for an empty table to sit and study at. For those who already occupy tables, it feels like they are unsuspecting gazelles at the local watering hole being watched by a tiger who has just come off a vegan diet. You feel watched. Unsafe. And though you may stare back defiantly, the Seat Snatchers continue to circle like hawks, unperturbed by the discomfort they may be causing you. And then, just as they are about to give up the hunt, someone crumbles under the pressure (well, not really... possibly that someone just has a class to attend, but that doesn't sound half as dramatic, does it now? ) and gets up to leave. Then, the hawks swoop down together. It is a race to see who gets there first. The winner sits down, exhausted from the hunt, but trimuphant nonetheless and stares back at his competitors in a most humble manner, so as not to provoke them further. And the rest continue the hunt.
The other form of amusement at Circus Librarius is the Mobile Dash. It is fiery competition of determination and sheer speed between man and mobile phone. When everyone has finally settled into their seats, and is getting down to work, someone's mobile phone will ring loudly and unexpectedly. Most mobile phones nowadays have that feature where their ringtone gets louder gradually. Like a petulant child tugging at your trouser leg, it demands your attention, "Listen to me! NOW!!" And so they cry (or in this case, ring) , softly at first - so soft that only your neighbours can hear you, then louder and louder. The whole point of the Mobile Dash is to get out of the Library limits before the ringtone is loud enough to be heard by everyone on all 4 floors. It is indeed, a hilarious sight to see someone immersed in sheaves and sheaves of paper, suddenly turn red and purple with embarassment as the first strains of their embarassing ringtone choice float across the library. Then it is a mad dash leaving paper trails behind, tripping on computer cords all in a desperate attempt to get out of the library before everyone in CBS know that everytime you have a call from home, you hear La Cucaracha.
So what are you waiting for? Come to Circus Librarius today. You won't get much studying done, but who wants that anyway? Right? wink...
Today, I had the luck to acquire a prime seat in the library, with a fantastic view of the whole place. It was a seat on the ground floor facing the heart of the library. From it, one could stare at all floors at once. While I was sitting there, it occured to me that this fitted the image I had of the imperial pavilion at one of the Circus Maximus (Maximii ?!?) of Ancient Rome. Only I wasn't the Emperor. I was more like the Emperor's flunkie who stood to the side and ran errands for 'His Imperial Majesty.'
I don't how the entertainment I had compares today with the Circus Maximus of yore, but I have to say that this was pretty fun as well. The most amusing sight has got to be the people who I like to call the 'Seat Snatchers'. They are the people who enter the library and beginning scanning the place for an empty table to sit and study at. For those who already occupy tables, it feels like they are unsuspecting gazelles at the local watering hole being watched by a tiger who has just come off a vegan diet. You feel watched. Unsafe. And though you may stare back defiantly, the Seat Snatchers continue to circle like hawks, unperturbed by the discomfort they may be causing you. And then, just as they are about to give up the hunt, someone crumbles under the pressure (well, not really... possibly that someone just has a class to attend, but that doesn't sound half as dramatic, does it now? ) and gets up to leave. Then, the hawks swoop down together. It is a race to see who gets there first. The winner sits down, exhausted from the hunt, but trimuphant nonetheless and stares back at his competitors in a most humble manner, so as not to provoke them further. And the rest continue the hunt.
The other form of amusement at Circus Librarius is the Mobile Dash. It is fiery competition of determination and sheer speed between man and mobile phone. When everyone has finally settled into their seats, and is getting down to work, someone's mobile phone will ring loudly and unexpectedly. Most mobile phones nowadays have that feature where their ringtone gets louder gradually. Like a petulant child tugging at your trouser leg, it demands your attention, "Listen to me! NOW!!" And so they cry (or in this case, ring) , softly at first - so soft that only your neighbours can hear you, then louder and louder. The whole point of the Mobile Dash is to get out of the Library limits before the ringtone is loud enough to be heard by everyone on all 4 floors. It is indeed, a hilarious sight to see someone immersed in sheaves and sheaves of paper, suddenly turn red and purple with embarassment as the first strains of their embarassing ringtone choice float across the library. Then it is a mad dash leaving paper trails behind, tripping on computer cords all in a desperate attempt to get out of the library before everyone in CBS know that everytime you have a call from home, you hear La Cucaracha.
So what are you waiting for? Come to Circus Librarius today. You won't get much studying done, but who wants that anyway? Right? wink...
Wednesday, 14 March 2007
A Bad Case of Examotitis
Symptoms: Dark circles under the eyes, insomnia, extreme caffeine dependency, memory of a goldfish and tea strainer combined, jitteriness, lack of appetite (or in some cases, extreme hunger), and a bad temper.
Yep. The past few weeks, we have been down with a bad case of examotitis...
Don't you miss those days when you could pelt the boy sitting in front of you in the examination hall with a tiny rolled up millimetre of paper torn from the corner of you question sheet to mouth exaggeratedly to ask for the answer to question 1, part 2)b): What is the difference between the free cash flow model and the something equities model?
Or all the times when you have contemplated writing some key formulae on your hand so you wouldn't forget them?
Or the good old "oops-I-dropped-my-pencil-I-need-to-pick-it-up" trick and then while you are down there might as well ask your neighbour for the answer anyway?
Technically my exams aren't over yet but soon... Soon... This time around our exams were case exams were we had 72 hours and 48 hours to solve them. Piece of cake I thought. We will plenty of time to finish and we can research the answers on that storehouse of useless information - the Internet...It is almost sad how disillusioned I was by the end of it.
The problem with open book exams like these is that the pressure is enormous. You can never tell anyone that you didn't know what the answer was, or that you had a temporary lapse of memory or that you got so nervous you made a careless mistake, or even that you wrote the wrong answer for the wrong question. You have to be perfect and you know it. The thought that comes to your head when you are struggling with it is, "Well, I have all the sources I could possibly want. If I miss anything, it will just be do to my laziness to look for it."
Many things can go wrong in such an exam. There is an immense potential for distraction in such a long period of concentration. After spending 10 hours in a day trying to solve a certain problem of bonus calculation, your attention wanders hopelessly fascinated by any small thing like a gold fish in a new aquarium...Picture yourself sitting there thinking of a goldfish and making funky fish faces with only 4 hours till deadline.
A fun thing that can happen as a result of such intense work is that you feel bonded with your team and a culture emerges with its own symbols and rhetoric. I experienced this for real in our group for our MCS exam. We were stuck trying to think of a solution for a particular aspect of our case. Finally, after 2 hours we had a breakthrough. Group member 1 got so excited that she threw her hands up joyously and exclaimed that group member 2 (the girl who came up with the solution) was the "King". After that epic moment of exultation, it became official that the highest praise we could each other was that of "King"liness.
In the end, all the arguments, pounding fists on the table during arguments, constant nitpicking were all forgotten in favour of proud moments of shining teamwork. And of course, we can't forget the sense of wonderful satisfaction and accomplishment that is part of the package. All in all, a very "King"ly feeling indeed...
Yep. The past few weeks, we have been down with a bad case of examotitis...
Don't you miss those days when you could pelt the boy sitting in front of you in the examination hall with a tiny rolled up millimetre of paper torn from the corner of you question sheet to mouth exaggeratedly to ask for the answer to question 1, part 2)b): What is the difference between the free cash flow model and the something equities model?
Or all the times when you have contemplated writing some key formulae on your hand so you wouldn't forget them?
Or the good old "oops-I-dropped-my-pencil-I-need-to-pick-it-up" trick and then while you are down there might as well ask your neighbour for the answer anyway?
Technically my exams aren't over yet but soon... Soon... This time around our exams were case exams were we had 72 hours and 48 hours to solve them. Piece of cake I thought. We will plenty of time to finish and we can research the answers on that storehouse of useless information - the Internet...It is almost sad how disillusioned I was by the end of it.
The problem with open book exams like these is that the pressure is enormous. You can never tell anyone that you didn't know what the answer was, or that you had a temporary lapse of memory or that you got so nervous you made a careless mistake, or even that you wrote the wrong answer for the wrong question. You have to be perfect and you know it. The thought that comes to your head when you are struggling with it is, "Well, I have all the sources I could possibly want. If I miss anything, it will just be do to my laziness to look for it."
Many things can go wrong in such an exam. There is an immense potential for distraction in such a long period of concentration. After spending 10 hours in a day trying to solve a certain problem of bonus calculation, your attention wanders hopelessly fascinated by any small thing like a gold fish in a new aquarium...Picture yourself sitting there thinking of a goldfish and making funky fish faces with only 4 hours till deadline.
A fun thing that can happen as a result of such intense work is that you feel bonded with your team and a culture emerges with its own symbols and rhetoric. I experienced this for real in our group for our MCS exam. We were stuck trying to think of a solution for a particular aspect of our case. Finally, after 2 hours we had a breakthrough. Group member 1 got so excited that she threw her hands up joyously and exclaimed that group member 2 (the girl who came up with the solution) was the "King". After that epic moment of exultation, it became official that the highest praise we could each other was that of "King"liness.
In the end, all the arguments, pounding fists on the table during arguments, constant nitpicking were all forgotten in favour of proud moments of shining teamwork. And of course, we can't forget the sense of wonderful satisfaction and accomplishment that is part of the package. All in all, a very "King"ly feeling indeed...
Wednesday, 7 February 2007
Blogs
Yet another blog entry filled with tongue-tied confusion. I always start off by saying that I have loads to write about but it always turns out that either I don't want to share that stuff or that I am too lazy..
I am envious of those people who can turn even the smallest events in their life into a fantastic blog entry. I was just reading a note Vivi had left on Facebook about how he likes sushi and the time they made sushi in his office. Such a small event and it made for such an enjoyable read. That was my plan as well but somehow it never manages to happen.
Lately, I have been loathe to write anything. My regular mails, my regular diary has stopped. And I don't know why..
I am envious of those people who can turn even the smallest events in their life into a fantastic blog entry. I was just reading a note Vivi had left on Facebook about how he likes sushi and the time they made sushi in his office. Such a small event and it made for such an enjoyable read. That was my plan as well but somehow it never manages to happen.
Lately, I have been loathe to write anything. My regular mails, my regular diary has stopped. And I don't know why..
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