April 13, 2018--Post-Privacy

More than usual people are concerned about privacy. This the result of the news that Facebook did not prevent the sharing of very personal information about 87 million of us. In fact, they sold it to Cambridge Analytica, which, in turn may or may not have used that data in shady ways to support Donald Trump's run for the presidency.

What did people addicted to Facebook (me included) think they were doing with all the data about our intimate selves we so casually handed over to them? 

Facebook makes billions every month but doesn't charge users to use their "platform." What was Facebook's business model that yielded so much money? If we had paused for a minute to think about how Instagram's and Google's and Snapchat's and YouTube's and Twitter's business models make a fortune but do not charge users we would have realized they made their money by selling us out to marketers and political consultants. 

So all the outrage directed toward Facebook sounds a little self-serving and inauthentic. My bet is that hardly anyone will as a result stop using Facebook or the others.

And, it seems to me, that very few people care profoundly about this. I want my Facebook; I don't want to pay to use it; and I don't care very much, perhaps not at all, about losing my privacy.

After all, don't the social network platforms depend upon us eagerly wanting to surrender our privacy? Aren't they ultimately narcissistic-enabling vehicles for us to let it all, or much of it, hang out for "friends" and friends of friends and friends of friends' friends? Isn't the dream of much of this to have one's postings widely shared, go viral? How else can that happen unless we put it all out there to be passed around?

Years ago I had early glimpses of how people were moving to sacrifice privacy for the sake of convenience and expediency. Though at the time I really didn't get it.

About two decades ago I was online at Citibank (not on-line) waiting to deposit a check. This in the day before there were ATMs. Ahead of me were two women who were talking at full volume. One was worried about her daughter, "I'm afraid she's becoming addicted to cocaine," she said loud enough for everyone on line to hear. "I don't know what to do with her. I can't afford to pay for a recovery program. I suppose I just have to hope for the best."  

Her friend put an arm around her and, changing the subject, began to talk, equally audibly, about her boyfriend, "He punched me the other day. We were having an argument and he got violent. Slapped my face hard enough that I think he loosened a couple of my molars." She opened her mouth wide and showed her friend the two teeth. Her friend leaned closer to examine her teeth.

Thankfully, they soon got to the head of the line and were summoned by one of the tellers. The memory is still vivid for me.

A few years later, walking home on Broadway, there was a young woman who appeared to be talking to herself in a very loud voice. Another crazy person, I thought. So young to be talking to herself, I thought. But as I moved quickly to pass her, I realized she was speaking to someone on her cell phone, talking into the wire attached to the phone on which there was a small microphone. Again, without needing to strain to pay attention I could hear every word she said. They were talking about meeting that evening at a local restaurant. All very benign, but evidence that the culture was shifting. I realized we would soon have no need for the phone booths with accordion doors that were still common on urban streets.

Some time after that I was in Washington for a meeting with Alaska Senator Ted ("Uncle Ted") Stevens. He was the chair of the all-powerful Appropriations Committee and I was, I confess, seeking his support for a $20.0 million earmark for a promising public school reform project that, to lubricate the process of seeking his help, we were more than willing to bring to his state.

He was about to be term-limited out of the chairmanship so the timing was urgent. 

We spoke about the project (which he later arranged to be funded) and then he told me that as a consolation for losing the Appropriations chair, he was to become the chair of the Senate Commerce Committee. He wasn't, to tell the truth, happy about this. It was a much less powerful position.

"One thing I'm concerned about," he said, "is the responsibility for protecting internet security. Really, privacy. And to be honest with you, I'm 82 years old, and don't know anything about the internet or, for the matter, computers."

"So, what are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what I already did," he said, smiling, "I asked my youngest staffers to do a little looking around and see what they could learn about me on the internet. You know, when and where I was born, where I live, who I'm married to. Things of that sort. I told them to get back to me in a week or so and they said no problem."

"I think I know where this is going," I said.

"Well, later in the day, the same day, they appeared in my doorway holding stacks and stakes of paper. 'What's all that?' I asked them. They told me it was what they had already come up with on the internet. You wouldn't believe what they found in just a few hours."

"I would," I whispered. He was on a roll and I didn't want to interrupt him.

"You know I have six kids. Well, not only did they find out everything about Cathy-Ann and me but also about them. Where they were born, how old they are, where they went to school, what they studied, and what they did after college. Also, where they live, and if they owned a house how much they paid for it. They even knew about their student loans and any mortgages on their properties."

He shrugged his shoulders, "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's enough to say that everything's out there to be found by anyone who knows how to do that. And my staffers told me how easy that is. From what they explained to me I understood why it only took a couple of hours to gather all that information."

"This is terrible," I said, "And so as the about-to-be chair of the Commerce Committee what are you thinking about doing?"

He stared off into space, "Probably nothing."

"Nothing?" I was incredulous. Remember, it was years ago. For most of us knowing about the power of the internet was rather new.

"It's too late," he said, "No one in Congress cares anything about this. They think it's good for business. No one gives a rat's ass about privacy. As I said, it's all over."

This was 2005 and from an 82-year-old senator from Alaska who never turned on a computer. He was still able to see the future.

"It's over. It's all over," he said as I thanked him and turned to leave.

Senater (Uncle Ted) Stevens

March 21, 2018--Fakebook: Psychographics

Here's the worst part about Facebook's turning over to Cambridge Analytica intimate data about 50 million of its subscribers. 50 million of us.

It's not that by doing so they violated our privacy or that this then allowed CA to precision-market products, services, and political candidates to us. Not just, in one example, enabling them to zap ads to us about books in general but books about the history of the American presidency to someone, like me, who bought on line a shelf of presidential biographies. This is not what is most concerning.

This sort of focused marketing predates by decades the invention of the Internet. Most powerful at the time was direct marketing, where one could purchase lists of "pre-qualified" potential customers who might be interested in, say, fishing equipment because they subscribed to Field & Stream.

And what's worst is not how, with the all-powerful Internet, marketers are able to make their pitches in micro-focused and cost-effective ways.

By aggregating and analyzing big data that Amazon and Google and Facebook have about each of us, marketing firms can construct psychological profiles of us--psychographics--that help guide their sales strategies in extraordinarily targeted ways. 

But again, this is not the worst part of what is being exposed as the current Cambridge Analytica scandal, with Facebook, Fakebook's clumsy enablement, unfolds. 

Also still not the worst thing is the direct involvement of deep stater Trumpians such as the scary Mercer family of billionaires or their previously bought-and-paid-for poodle, Steve Bannon. As reprehensible as their attempts have been to undermine American democracy (we would be wise to remember this is their goal), no, what is worst is our willing complicity in this. 

Allow me to repeat that--It's about our complicity. About how if it weren't for us there would be no Cambridge Analytica, no cyber-meddling to fraudulently strengthen Trump's side in the 2016 election, and no big data to make this possible.

The reason CA and others can, for their scurrilous purposes, put their hands on intimate information about tens of millions of us is because we have willingly and eagerly shared this data about ourselves.

For example, Facebook users casually reveal how old they are, how much education they have, where they live, what they "like" when it comes to music and books and food and clothing and movies and the entertainments we download on line. 

When we click "like" on a "friend's" posting we reveal something about what is important to us, whether it be cultural, political, and even spiritual. We casually reveal what medications we use when ordering drugs on line, where we vacation, how much money we have, what kind of car we drive, how we earn a living, how we recreate, what languages we speak, our sexual orientation and preferences as well as the kinds of families we belong to and our world of friend.

I could go on for thousands of words just making this list of the kinds of information we "share" about ourselves without much persuasion or thought. 

We tell all to Facebook and other social network and e-commerce sites. And then this data, in the hands of the likes of Amazon and Cambridge Analytica become essential to fueling their metastasizing reach and power.

In our post-privacy world most of us do not think twice before revealing intimate details about ourselves. In fact, many Facebook members who are comfortable indulging their narcissism or gossipy side enjoy letting it all hang out on line and can't get enough of listening in, so the speak, to the details of their "friend's" lives, they are so casual about this that they seemingly do not care about what in the process, even unintentionally, they reveal about themselves.

It is dangerous that in addition to being indiscriminate about what we share, while oblivious to what bottom-feeding operations such as Cambridge Analytica can mash together to create a psychographic portrait of each of us that is so detailed it can be deployed not only to sell us stuff we don't need but also can be used to influence our vote. 

In large part, as a result, we have Donald Trump as our president.

May 13, 2015--Mother of Invention

"You haven't taken your nose out of that book all day."

"It's not a great book," I said, "But as you know, I'm fascinated by the Wright Brothers, and the new David McCullough biography is still fascinating. I mean, to me."

"Fascinating in what way?" Rona asked.

"You remember how about ten years ago we visited Kitty Hawk and were so impressed by what had happened there between 1901 and 1903, when the brothers were the first flew? The book is quite good on the Wrights' time there so that part is fascinating. The rest, only so-so."

"I do remember that. And though I hate flying in small planes I agreed to go up in a two-seater with you so we could fly over the same landscape where they had lived and worked. From Kitty Hawk to Kill Devil Hills."

"And then a few years later how, when in their hometown, Dayton, Ohio, we visited their workshop--a bicycle factory--and found the field not far from there--Huffman Prairie--where over the next few years in hundreds of flights they perfected their flying machine and learned more and more about controlled flight."

"So what do you think?" Rona asked, "Is their invention of the airplane the most important, world-changing invention of the 20th century?"

"One of them. To that I'd add electricity, the light bulb, radio, wireless broadcasting . . ."

"What about TV and, to me the most important invention of all, the computer?"

"Probably the computer. Not just the computer itself but the incredible software and peripherals that make the Internet, which we access with computers, so powerful."

"And," Rona said, "make social media like Facebook and Twitter possible. More than a billion people use them."

"Then there are the invented ways to access the Internet and all that derives from that--from clunky computers to all those so-called mobile devices."

"As with many others--all of these are powerful for both good and ill."

"Planes qualify as well," I said, "Only 12 years after the first flight, during the First World War, combatants of all stripes used planes for reconnaissance."

"And aerial bombing."

"All true," I said. "But back to inventions. We could have fun making a list of the most important ones of the past hundred years."

"But that would exclude the airplane since it first flew 102 years ago." She smiled at remembering that.

"Good point. Or we could see what we come up with if we tried to make a list of the most important inventions of all time."

"You mean like the wheel?"

"Yes, that's on many people's list as the single most important invention."

"How about the invention of democracy?" Rona asked, "Would that quality?"

"Sure. But maybe let's confine ourselves to material things like the plane and Internet. That feels like more fun."

"Well, we've already made a good beginning with the radio, TV, the light bulb and of course electricity itself."

"Though I'm not sure electricity is an invention. Doesn't it just exist and then people like Alexander Graham Bell and Edison figured out how to use it?"

"I'll have to look that up," Rona said, "And speaking about electricity, some would include the electric chair."

I looked at her skeptically. "Some saw it as more humane than hanging or the firing squad."

"I'll give you that one. But how about atomic energy?"

"Also it's maybe not an invention. But coming up with various uses for it certainly qualifies. Again for good or ill."

"If we want to talk about weapons, there have been hundreds of major inventions, including some--like say, guided missiles--that were world-changing."

"How about the printing press?"

"If you add movable type I think you've identified a paradigm-shifting one. With the ability to print books, periodicals, and newspapers maybe in its time it was as significant as the Internet."

"Then there's a very different category of inventions--musical instruments."

"Excellent point. Life would not be the same without the piano and violin and hundreds of others."

"What about in the medical field?"

"Probably as many inventions as for weapons. From anesthesia to . . ."

"Huge."

"To penicillin and then antibiotics. Also, vaccinations, pain killers, and tranquilizers."

"And testing techniques like all those for analyzing blood and MRIs. All inventions."

"For surgery alone there are hundreds. And don't forget the Pill. That changed the way we live as much as anything."

"How about in astronomy? Telescopes, satellites, and such? They also allow for accurate weather forecasting, which in itself is another invention."

"Related to that, there are all the navigation tools like the compass, which I'm sure some would say also changed the world. And of a very different sorry, how about air conditioning? One of my favorites," I said.

"Maybe I'd agree to refrigeration being on the list of top 25 or so, but not the AC, though I know you say you can't live without it."

"True. And to me personally at about the same level of importance, I'd add ATM machines--I hate standing on line at the bank."

"That's silly."

"Admittedly, but I'd also add another of my personal favorites."

"What's that?"

"The E-ZPass. I also hate waiting on line at toll booths."

"Time for you to stick your nose back in the book," Rona said. "The Wright Brothers are beckoning."

"Wait, one more, how about you--you couldn't live without your blowdryer."

November 5, 2014--The New Mediocre

As if we didn't have enough to complain about. We need to make it worse?

That's just what Vanessa Friedman did in a column in last Sunday's New York Times Review, "Mired in Mediocrity."

The title of her piece says it all--things globally, but especially in the United States, are stalled out because we are accepting, even embracing what she calls "the new mediocre."

Her bonafides? She is the Times' chief fashion critic and fashion director. More about that in a moment.

Let me summarize her indictment--

The idea that mediocrity is "the new normal" originates, Friedman claims, with Christine Lagarde, director of the International Monetary Fund, who applied that term to the global economy. It could use a jolt, Lagarde correctly suggests, to get it going, mired as it is, "muddling along with subpar growth."

Fine. But to generalize this to just about everything else is questionable. I do not want to come a across as Pangloss, seeing everything to be the best in "this best of all possible worlds," but to see everything to be the worst in this worst of all possible worlds goes way beyond the defensible and slips more into whining than legitimate analysis.

When she sees the newly emboldened Republicans putting forth an economic agenda that is made up of "a compendium of modest expectations," Friedman sees this this to be a manifestation of "the new mediocre."

Ranging far afield, she sees Twitter losing participants and thus income not because as a fad it is fading but because it has become an example of "the new mediocre."

"Old-guy action films" and "comic-book-hero" flicks that are predominating at the box office, squeezing out higher-quality art-house Indies, is yet more evidence that the the movies that are thriving--what else is new--are yet more evidence that "the new mediocre" is all-pervasive.

And then there is clothing, fashion, Friedman's expertise. Here she sees the same thing--mediocrity.

Enduring the recent spate of fashion shows in New York and Europe, she sees little evidence of new ideas among designers. Rather, she unhappily reports, everything seems deja vu--1960s-style "rock chick dresses," 1970s "flared trousers," 1980s "power jackets," and even 1920s "flapper frocks."

It doesn't get any worse than this, in this worst of all possible worlds.

I've been hearing from disillusioned and generally despondent friends that the Friedman piece sums up what they have been thinking and feeling about the contemporary world. That we are in fact mired in mediocrity. That this not only explains what they are seeing but also helps reconcile themselves to their own unhappy and frustrating circumstances. "It's not my fault," they are in effect saying, "but the larger world's."

I have been pushing back, claiming that though there is much to not feel good or optimistic about, to balance things, one could contemplate making a case in opposition to "the new mediocre" in support of "the new excellent."

A list of things to feel optimistic about would include--

All the advances in medicine and healthcare. Yes, the system for its delivery is deeply flawed, but if one has various types of cancer or needs life-saving, minimally-invasive surgery, with any good fortune, methods and tests and medications are now available that a scant few year ago were only dreams. "The new excellent."

If one is fortunate enough to be in the top 25 percent academically, public education capped by still the best higher-education system in the world could be considered an example of the new or continuing excellent.

Then there is Google, wirelessness, iGadgets, the Internet itself and all the possibilities that these enable--more "new excellent."

Evidence-based philanthropy, best exemplified by the Gates Foundation, which just last week announced it is stepping up its promising efforts to eradicate malaria, is, as part of "the new excellent," making progress on many fronts from environmental conservation to potable water to sustainable economic development. Yes, I know the counter list, but the picture is more balanced than the "new mediocre" people are claiming.

Even in regard to military hardware, while waiting for peace and sanity to break out in the world, drones, as one example of excellence of its own sort, enable battles to rage that inflict fewer civilian casualties than conventional methods. I know many of my anti-war friends (include me among them) will blanch at this, but in realpolitik terms this represents "progress."

At a different level of things to feel good about is the New Brooklyn, ATM machines, E-ZPasses, and the ubiquitousness of really wonderful coffee--my counter case to worrying too much about power jackets and flapper frocks.

One reason to consider the excellent to be at least as pervasive as the mediocre is that it can motivate one to shake the funk, get up off the couch, turn off the TV and iPhone (at least for a few hours a day), and look for ways to become engaged with making things a little better for yourself and the larger world. To take the opposite tack is to me to waste one's life.

April 17, 2014--Today's Luddites

A young friend who is making his way quite nicely in the IT field (he is a software builder with investable ideas for a company of his own) was talking the other night about the Luddites.

In addition to being impressed that he knew anything at all about them, he had interesting things to say about today's version.

We began by comparing the power of the Gutenberg Revolution with the advent of the Internet--"I think," he unsurprisingly said, "that the Internet will prove to be an even more powerful cultural and work-shifting technology. Everything is and will change, from knowledge acquisition to the way work is structured."

Though two generations removed from his, though feeling threatened by so much change that I do not and never will fully understand, I agreed. But, I wondered, as we moved on to compare the structure of work brought about by the Industrial Revolution with the Cyber Revolution, that the changes we are seeing globally are likely to be much more disruptive than those brought about when we shifted, less globally, from an agriculture-based economy to one dominated by machines and mass production.

"You're making my point for me," he said, wanting to retain control of the direction of the conversation. "But though I am in my small way contributing to these paradigm-shifting developments, I am worried about some of the trends that I see, unintended consequences--there are always some--that may not turn out to be either benign or progressive."

"Say more," I said, pleased to cede the direction of the conversation to him.

"In the past, the actual, historic Luddites got it wrong. They thought that brining waterpower and machines to the manufacture of textiles would both alienate labor further and ultimately lead to fewer jobs--machines would replace workers."

"What you're saying is correct. They did go about literally and metaphorically smashing the very machines that they felt would replace them."

"And they turned out to be wrong. Right?"

"Say more."

"Rather than replacing workers, though many were dislocated and/or needed to learn machine-based skills, over time the capital invested in mechanization, which temporarily shifted the economic balance more toward capital (things like machines and factories) than workers and wages, over time--and this is important--the balance shifted: more workers were ultimately needed and the demand for them, plus unionization, led to higher wages."

"Correct. Classic economic theory," I said, wanting to sound relevant, "says this is what happens historically as the result of capital outlays and aggregation."

"But back to my but," he pressed, "I do not see this happening now. And maybe it will not happen even during the upcoming decades."

"What won't be happening?" I admitted to myself that he was leaving me behind.

"IT, information technology . . ."

"I know what IT is."

He smiled at me. "It may turn out that IT will permanently not only dislocate workers but also make much of human, hands-on work work itself redundant."

"Redundant?"

"OK, obsolete. No longer needed. And, here's the worry, this may wind up permanently replacing the old, classic economic model. We may see a longterm shift in the balance between capital and wages. A shift in the direction favoring capital. The data in many countries, very much including ours, are trending in this direction."

"OK. But what about the Luddites?"

"Well, it may be a generational thing--with people from, forgive me, your generation serving as the contemporary Luddites. You, I mean they," he smiled again, "may be decrying these cyber innovations because you, I mean they, are feeling left behind by more than age. But, they may be right."

"Slow down. You're losing me. Right about what?"

"That the new machines, actual and virtual, will in fact replace hands-on workers (except maybe in health care and restaurant work). Replace them for the foreseeable future. Maybe permanently. Maybe if displaced, redundant workers acquire new skills there may not be enough jobs for them. Look at what goes on in auto assembly plants these days. Cars are now made more and more by robots. Yes, at the moment humans have to make the robots but after they are deployed (capital investment) very few actual workers are needed. Just maybe to grease the machines and manipulate them via computers."

"Wow," I couldn't help but say. "That's quiet a future you're presenting."

"To be truthful, these are not only my ideas. There are people who know tons more than me about this who are studying what's going on and alerting us to the changes."

"I know that," I said. "I've been reading some of their stuff too."

"And I'm seeing it where I work. What in the past would have required dozens of workers requires very few. Considering the economic size and reach of a Google and a Facebook, to mention a couple, they have relatively few workers. That's one reason they're so profitable. And my own guess is that if you look at them five years from now they'll be even bigger and will have even fewer employees. This is a very big deal." I

"Could you pour me a little more wine? I need some." I slid my glass toward him.

While doing so, he concluded, "In other words, you Luddites are right!"

December 23, 2013--Social Theory

For some time I have been attempting to find ways to feel good about social networking. Up to recently, struggle as I have, everything I come up with is negative.

I'm face-to-face oriented and all this staring at smart phones, thumbs in constant motion as texts are exchanged, continues to turn me off and has me wondering what kind of people, especially young people we are becoming.

I am somewhat consoled by the fact that tweeting, texting, posting, and old-fashioned e-mailing are forms of writing. At a time when little writing is required in school and that that is is little commented upon by overburdened teachers, I'll take any shred of any kind of writing as good news.

But then I remind myself that fuddy-duddies such as I have always complained about paradigm-shifitng new technologies, ruing that they represent the end-of-civilization-as-we-know-it.

Plato, recall, wanted to ban poets and musicians from his Republic, claiming that their emotive power interferes with reasoned, philosophical discourse--it "feeds and waters the passions." And of course he is right. Though this hardly justifies banning them since in fact we need both.

And the literate priestly and royal elites of the time did not welcome Gutenberg's invention of movable type and the resulting proliferation of print material to the otherwise disenchanted. They feared that through the ideas contained in books the powerless would come to feel empowered and at some point would demand that Church and State be reformed and overthrown. Both of which, in turn, occurred.

Then there were those who opposed industrialization and the machine age--Luddites, among others--who rightly saw their widespread use presaging the end of self-sufficiency, craft, and rural yeoman life. And they were right.

So what of me now as I watch the self-hypnotized wandering up and down Broadway, eyes glued too their blue screens, thumbs tapping away?

Am I the cranky heir to Plato, the Renaissance princes, and hopeless machine-smashing Luddites? In many ways I feel I am but, knowing the history of how Plato's Republic turned out--no matter how noble it never came into existence--how after Gutenberg nothing could stem the avalanche of books and ultimately newspapers, and how the machine-driven Industrial Revolution changed everything forever worldwide, aware of these tectonic waves of culture-altering change, I am determined to try to remain relevant (at least in my own mind) and keep searching for the good that will come from the latest Internet-inspired brave new world.

Perhaps I had a glimpse on Saturday of a way to begin to feel better about the shape-shifting power of social networking.

It was a beautiful day and Rona said, "Let's finally go to Williamsburg. We're both originally from Brooklyn and haven't been to Williamsburg since all the young people moved in, displacing the Polish people and the Hassidim."

I readily agreed, feeling a little behind the times in not getting myself there to where so much is happening. "The Girls TV show is set there," I said, "and that's about as close as we've gotten to taking a look at the New Brooklyn."

"Half the best New York restaurants of the last few years are in Brooklyn and we keep going to our familiar nearby places."

If I needed additional reasons to venture across the East River, making me feel I am out of the latest hot restaurant loop was all the incentive I needed to get me headed toward the L train.

Incredibly, less than 10 minutes from Union Square, the fourth stop, Bedford Avenue plopped us down right in the middle of this remarkable urban transformation.

"Can you believe this," I said, with I am sure my jaw hanging open in wonder, "All these shops and terrific-looking young people."

The average age of those filling the streets could not have been more than twenty-five. "Can you believe it, my father's parents used to live on Bedford Avenue, not to mention all the Yeshivas that were here. Now every store is a cafe, restaurant, or clothing boutique."

"Let's wander up and down," Rona suggested. "To get a feel for what's going on."

So we did, for two hours wandering south on Bedford, across Grand Street, and then north on Union. "While we're at it, let's look for a place to have a cup of coffee."

"That's not going to be difficult to find. We've already passed at least 20," Rona said, an exaggeration but more true than not.

On Wythe Avenue we found Bakeri, an "artisanal bakery," which in fact it turned out to be. The display chest was full of wonderful-looking confections, from basic scones to fanciful tarts. It was packed with customers and it took us some time to be helped, which offered the opportunity to take in who was there.

As expected, everyone was very young and fresh from biking or jogging; and if I would have been pressed to guess, looked like they worked for IT start-ups, were living on family money, or both.

We both ordered coffee, Rona with two coconut macaroons, me an "apple cider flower," which looked like a version of Danish I used to get in my old East Flatbush bakery.

"You can sit in the garden, if you like," suggested a friendly young woman, dressed, as all the staff were, in faded-blue Bakeri coveralls. "It's such a beautiful day." She smiled to welcome us. "Find a table and I'll bring your coffee and pastries."

We squeezed by the crowd and made our way through a small passageway in which, tucked in nooks, were two tables and then down a fews steps into the garden.

"This will be beautiful in the spring," Rona said, looking up at the now bare trees, making plans to return even before tasting the coffee and macaroons. "Let's sit there," she said, pointing to a small marble-topped table nestled under the largest of the trees right by an unexpected stone pond full of golden koi.

Before we could look around and see who else was there, our coffee arrived. It was hot and delicious as were our baked goods, which we eagerly shared.

All the tables but the one next to us were occupied with yet more young people, chattering away about the weather and the trips from which they had recently returned.

"I loved Sri Lanka," said an Allison Williams lookalike. "And I can't wait to get back to the Seychelles," said a Zosia Mamet clone. "But best of all, have you been to Madagascar? The natural life there is amazing," said Lena Dunham's double.

Rona and I smiled at each other. This was even more fun than we had expected.

As I drained my final sips of coffee, scanning the garden, I asked, "Was it Thomas Wolfe who said about Brooklyn that, 'You can't go home again'"?

"I think he was referring to another place. Somewhere in the Midwest. But," Rona winked at me, "he did write that terrific short story, 'Only the Dead Know Brooklyn.'"

As by far the oldest person in the garden, I tried to get comfortable with her reference.

While we were finishing our drinks, eavesdropping on the nearby table talk, and trying to remember our Thomas Wolfe, a twenty-something woman slipped into the last unoccupied table right next to us. She was dressed in what we after a few hours in the area began to discern as Williamsburg chic--well-tailored grunge.

As has come to be usual, she did not look around but pulled her smart phone from her peacoat pocket and placed it on the table. Her tea arrived in what seemed like an instant. She didn't look up to acknowledge or thank the waitress; and before taking her first sip, was already tapping away at the screen.

Rona and I, curmudgeons together, smiled at each other.

Here she was, I thought, in this happy place, clearly among peers, in a lovely setting on an even more lovely day, and she can't even wait for a second to pick up her texts to look around, take it all in, feel good about life on such an afternoon.

As she bent closer to the screen, as if to cuddle with it, she began to chuckle. Her thumbs were now in even more rapid motion. Chuckles turned to laughter and head nodding. She took a quick sip of her tea, not taking her eyes off the glowing screen.

We had been making moves to pay the bill and leave, but without exchanging a word or glance of agreement stayed on to witness this as she eventually finished her tea, all the while smiling and talking under her breath as if to herself.

With her tea cup now drained, she took some money from her wallet. Still with her eyes on the flashing screen.

"It was Libya Hills," she said as if to no one in particular. She then half-turned toward us. "Libya Hills that Wolfe was referring to." Puzzled, we looked in her direction. "That you were wondering about. Not Brooklyn." With her free hand she gestured at the garden. And with that she was gone.

Back on the L train, Rona said, "Maybe that's where we're heading."

"I think we're heading toward Union Square. Two more stops."

"I mean culturally, silly. That girl in the garden." Getting her reference, I nodded.

"She was not there alone. Having tea by herself."

"Maybe this is our new sense of community."

"While bowling alone," Rona said, referring to a conversation we had a couple of weeks ago with a young friend from the IT world.

"But what about solitude?" I asked.

"Solitude?"

"Since we're sort of having a literary day, remember Alexander Pope's poem about solitude?"

"Vaguely."

"It goes something like--

Blest the man, who can unconcernedly find
   Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
             Quiet by day.'"

Rona slid closer to me on the subway. "You old Luddite, you."

August 26, 2013--Warp Speed

When I got my first PC, I connected to the Internet via a dial-up telephone line. To me the Net felt like the most amazing innovation since Gutenberg invented movable type. This was in the early days of Google and even then the amount of information readily available by surfing the Net was astonishing.

Over time, "readily available" evolved in meaning.

My connection to the Internet back then took a minute or so to activate. To wait such a short time and then to have access to a seemingly infinite amount of knowledge felt more than worth the wait.

But quickly, Internet connectivity via cable systems and then through various forms of broad-band wirelessness made waiting for a dial-up connection seem endless. Even five seconds felt like eternity.

Now, I am so spoiled that if anything takes more than a second I feel frustrated and deprived. I want everything to be instantaneous.

Speed has its advantages as well as its downside.

When an idea pops into one's head (which often occurs in what feels like a nanosecond--insight, inspiration, creative thought) it is good to be able to record this in the moment so as not to see it evanesce as quickly as it manifested itself; and, if instant further information or elaboration might be helpful, being able to do this quickly often secures and enriches the initial perception. At those moments I want my brain firing at warp speed and my access to Internet-derived information instantaneous.

The downside can be the too-quick codification of a spark of innovative thought that would benefit from rumination and careful elaboration. This very much includes allowing half-baked ideas with little potential to melt away, to clear the space needed for devotion to those ideas with more promising potential.

And then in the economic realm, as we have seen in recent years with the largely-automated stock market, speed itself can add uncertainty and even chaos rather than precision to an already uncertain and chaotic system.

After a number of crashes that paralyzed markets and caused hundreds of billions in loses, retrospectively, it was determined that pushing for more and more speed in executing trades was itself a major cause of the problem.

According to a recent Web posting by the New York Times, it is claimed that the need for speed comes from a market in which high-frequency traders expect to be able to get in and out of positions within a second. "Better," and literally, in less than a second. Any market that cannot offer such speed will be at a competitive disadvantage.

On the surface, assuming speed is actually a benefit, there may also be a self-perpetuating process at work--because competitors' ways of trading may be quicker, this means that to be in play, regardless of other desirable qualities, everyone has to be equally obsessed with speed in and of itself.

Speed for its own sake? Speed for more efficient or effective markets? Speed to allow for more transparency? Speed to be able to provide safeguards?

Actually, little of the above.

Again, according the the NYT, "speed is not compatible with safety features that could cause suspicious orders to be delayed while someone--a slow person, perhaps--checked to see whether something was amiss."

It may be valid to claim that speed in these kinds of transactions is especially and perversely desirable if one wants to obscure what is in fact happening. Speed can be useful to some who are attempting to pull a fast one, to get something accomplished so fast that it cannot be reviewed or regulated. Or before others, who are moving slower, can fairly compete.

There are credible reports which show that some, who want to gain an advantage in certain trading situations, where, for fees in the millions, they purchase privileged information for less than a half-second before it is shared with the wider public. That half-second advantage allows arbitrage-like trades to occur without monitoring or even competition; and as a result can net someone off the mark a split-second faster risk-free billions.

But when these same capacities of otherwise little intrinsic value are created and then spin out of control, as we are frequently seieng, everyone but those on the sheltered inside are left to live with the debris and absorb the costs of the fallout.