Brave New World

This week’s book is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley:

A dystopian novel predicting the future under the extreme dehumanizing effects of scientific and mass-production “progress”.  And I must begin by saying that, as a work of literature (for me at least) it’s extremely hard to dissect! Like many great thinkers, far ahead of their time, Huxley novel received nearly universal criticism from his contemporary critics. Now, it is considered one of the greatest novels of the 20th century.

632 years after Henry Ford first mass-produced the Model T, begins Huxley’s story. Stability of the State (called the World State in the novel) is maintained though biological engineering and psychological conditional. Citizens are not born, they’re “hatched” to fill specific societal roles. Everything and everyone is planned, controlled, and exploited as a form of State utility.

Here’s Mustapha Mond, the “Controller” of the Western European zone, describing the World State:

“In a properly organized society like ours, nobody has any opportunities for being noble or heroic. Conditions have got to be thoroughly unstable before the occasion can arise. When there are wars, where there are divided allegiances, where there are temptations to be resisted, objects of love to be fought for or defended – there, obviously, nobility and heroism have some sense. But there aren’t any wars nowadays. The greatest care is taken to prevent you from loving anyone too much. There’s no such thing as a divided allegiance; you’re so conditioned that you can’t help doing what you ought to do.

Beyond the confines of the World State, exists reservations with populations of “savages” – those few whom still engage in love, child birth, and die of old age. At its core, Brave New World, is a tale of one Savage, named John, that is brought back into the World State and becomes deeply disillusioned. Both a satirical look and a blueprint of a possible future, we a made witness to a world run amuck with totalitarianism and scientific propaganda.

Take this passage, for example, where the Savage is speaking to a Controller:

“Isn’t there something in living dangerously?”
“There’s a great deal in it,” the Controller replied. “Men and women must have their adrenals stimulated from time to time.”
“What?” questioned the Savage, uncomprehending.
“It’s one of the conditions of perfect health. That’s why we’ve made the V.P.S. treatments compulsory.”
“V.P.S.?”
“Violent Passion Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It’s the complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the inconveniences.”

“But I like the inconveniences.”

“We don’t,” said the Controller. “We prefer to do things comfortably.”

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

“In fact,” said Mustapha Mond, “you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.”
“All right then,” said the Savage defiantly, “I’m claiming the right to be unhappy.”

I find Brave New World fascinating perhaps because Huxley is a such deeply pessimistic man and I am such the optimist. His morbid fixation with the economic realities of his time (1930s) and he deep rejection of the theories of J.M. Keynes makes for an incredibly thought provoking view of future societies. Especially for somebody like myself, who would be a contributor to his dim view of the future. But what exactly his view of the future is, after reading this book, I feel is quite ambiguous. Satire and political commentary are simply woven so tightly together that I struggle to unwind the difference. But that’s exactly why the book is so powerful and exiting to read!

If any of this interests you, and you would like to read this book, tell three people about my company’s latest project, WikiReader, and then send me an email. Before next week, I’ll chose a name from random, and send the winner my book.

Shipping, anywhere in the world, is on me.

Ingenious Gadgets

This week’s book, “Ingenious Gadgets” by Maurice Collins, is just pure and whimsical fun:

Fascinated by eccentric contraptions powered by anything other than electricity, Collins has been collecting “gadgets” for over 30 years. Most items span the time period starting from the Great Exhibition of 1851 to the Festival of Britain in 1951. Organized in categories with names like “The Working Day” to “The Stuff of Life” to “Body and Soul” and more, this book with inspire and provoke laughter – in equally heavy doses.

Here are three of my favorites:

1. Clockwork fly scarer
With a “wing” span of one meter (3ft), this clockwork propeller revolves at a very slow pace over the dining table to scare away flies. The large spring, when fully wound, has enough energy to keep revolving for 15 minutes!

2. Sight restorer
A late 19th century gadget that proclaims to increase your vision. All you have to do is apply the two cups against the eyes, press the central air puffer and the resulting massage would do the trick. The instructions also suggest that no excessive drinking or eating and plenty of sleep should occur at the same time as the treatment.

3. Bread cutter
This gadget, from the US Great Depression era of the 1930s, was created to help money go a bit further. Place an already thin slice of bread into this cutter and it will cut it in half again. Ingenious, albeit a tad depressing…

What’s the fundamental question of the items in his collection? Does it solve an everyday problem making a task simpler, quicker or easier. Collins is especially keen on gadgets that perform their function better than those sold in the 21st century that do the same thing. All the items in his collection are a testament to those creative minds that spend their time and money trying to solve everyday problems.

If any of this interests you, and you would like to read this book, tell three people about my company’s latest project, WikiReader, and then send me an email. Before next week, I’ll chose a name from random, and send the winner my book.

Shipping, anywhere in the world, is on me.

Book Club: White

This next book left a deep influence on my understanding and sense of creativity. It’s call “White”, by Kenya Hara:

Hara is a graphics designer, professor, and has been the Art Director of MUJI since 2001. Ironically, “White” has almost nothing to do with color. Not after the tangible, Hara’s thin, yet immensely thought provoking book, is an attempt to visualize the feelings common to all humans. It’s an aesthetic study of the unconscious. A journey from paper to communication to tea ceremonies and more. A search to find the essence of “white” through a concept he calls “emptiness”. He wants us to think of “white” as the embodiment of the aesthetic of “emptiness”. White is information emerging from chaos. He explains:

White as noncolor transforms into a symbol of nonbeing. Yet emptiness doesn’t mean “nothingness” or “energy-less”; rather, in many cases, it indicates a condition, or kizen, which will likely be filled with content in the future. On the basis of this assumption, the application of white is able to create a forceful energy for communication.

A creative mind, in short, does not see an empty bowl as valueless, but perceives it as existing in a transitional state, waiting for the content that will eventually fill it; and this creative perspective instills power in the emptiness. The deep relationship between kuhaku, or “emptiness,” and the color white is established through this communication process.

White (白) and emptiness (空) are closely intertwined, Hara argues. The representation of empty space  (空白) brings these two concepts together. There is emptiness in white and there is white in emptiness. Together, they symbolize simplicity and subtlety – absolutely fundamental concepts in Japanese aesthetics. They manifest in different forms, but emerge as the gravitative force towards completeness and perfection, that motivates the creative person to excel in activities such as writing, painting, music, and dance:

One condition of paper-based publishing is that ink cannot be erased once it’s printed… Its very irreversible nature means that we are emotionally moved when we achieve something on it… It is the possibility of (irrevocable) failure that lies behind all this creative energy. At the same time, the basis of the artistic mind is the overcoming of human error through strenuous practice and training. The moment before a performance of music or dance begins, for example, greatly resembles the purity of white paper; it is a state of tabula rasa for audience and performer, the perfect white tablet.

What a truly beautiful thought! But perhaps my favorite example is that of a Shinto Shrine. I shall leave that one unquoted for your own discovery.

Let me close with one final comment: I think of the “open” in “open source” in terms of the concepts of “white” and “emptiness”. This has let me to focus on making products that are open and simple. I believe only products that are open can grow as you grow. And only something simple can be used by everyone.

Development for our WikiReader began with the following idea; Give physical form to Wikipedia’s neutral point of view. Why focus on the neutral point of view? Because, I believe, it’s the source of Wikipedia’s own “emptiness”. Exposing this core reveals the limitless potential of Wikipedia to provoke our thoughts. I sincerely hope that bringing WikiReader around with you, wherever you go, will make the smaller moments in your day feel a bit more fresh. A bit more “white”.

If any of this interests you, and you would like to read this book, tell three people about my company’s latest project, WikiReader, and then send me an email. Before next week, I’ll chose a name from random, and send the winner my book.

Shipping, anywhere in the world, is on me.

Book Club: The Fountainhead

Today, I’m going to start a book club with a bit of a twist. Once week I will give away one book. Most of the time the books will be used – which is, by the way, the only proper state for a book. They will span many different genres. Connected only by the fact that each has made a profound impact on my life. I want to share them with you.

The first book is The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand:

This is a story of an individual’s (Howard Roark) journey through the work he loves — architecture — and the challenges it’s reveals to the very fabric of society. It is a tale dripping with the passion and strength of the human soul as it unknowingly confronts collectivism’s oppressive will. The novel’s many characters are elegantly complex. To say this is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful and deeply inspiring books I’ve ever read, would not be an exaggeration. Three days after reading the final sentence, The Fountainhead is still all I can think about.

700+ pages thick, without a single misplaced word, Rand is a master story teller. Take, for example, a small passage of Roark explaining how he views his craft:

“Here are my rules: what can be done with one substance must never be done with another. No two materials are alike. No two sites on earth are alike. No two buildings have the same purpose. The purpose, the site, the material determine the shape. Nothing can be reasonable or beautiful unless it’s made by one central idea, and the idea sets every detail. A building is alive, like a man. Its integrity is to follow its own truth, its one single theme, and to serve its own single purpose. A man doesn’t borrow pieces of his body. A building doesn’t borrow hunks of its soul. Its maker gives it the soul and every wall, window and stairway to express it.”

Integrity is the tightly woven theme in Rand’s novel. She defines it not through the main characters, but through Kent Lansing, a businessman, fighting for Roark to win his hotel commission. Lansing says:

“And what, incidentally, do you think integrity is? The ability not to pick a watch out of your neighbor’s pocket? No, it’s not as easy as that. If that were all, I’d say ninety-five percent of humanity were honest, upright men. Only, as you can see, they aren’t. Integrity is the ability to stand by an idea. That presupposes the ability to think. Thinking is something one doesn’t borrow or pawn.”

With considerable restraint, I’ll resist quoting my favorite part of the novel — the last trial. Spoiling such an eloquent climax would be far too unjust. So if you would like to read this book, tell three people about my company’s latest project, WikiReader, and then send me an email. Before next week, I’ll chose a name from random, and send the winner my book.

Shipping, anywhere in the world, is on me.

The Invisible

For the Sleepwalkers

Tonight I want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible

arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.

I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,

palming the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.

And always they wake up as themselves again.
That’s why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.

Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying through the trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music

of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.

We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-
walkers who rise out of their calm beds

and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and surprised.

–Edward Hirsch

Perception.

A violinist playing in the Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later
the violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes
A 3 year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.

45 minutes
The musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace.
He collected $32.

1 hour
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities. The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ….

How many other things are we missing?

WikiReader goes to MoMA.

We took WikiReader to the MoMA. It was like discovering a fifth dimension.

Untitled.

This is a great picture I stumbled upon this afternoon taken by Twitter user eliskah:

She writes, “The most important moment of three-day #openmoko trip to Germany!”

Now, I have no idea what this trip was all about, but I feel like the man in the picture each morning I look into our new office’s windows: Something interesting is coming from behind those walls…