Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Wordless Wednesday: Climb Every Mountain

#Mountain #Museum #ZahaHadid #Italy


Follow the link in the photo caption to the associated story. You can find more glimpses of the future (and links) on CFM's Pinterest Boards

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

So this museum geek walks into an academic research meeting...

Earlier this month I was in London, participating in the Diversity, (In)equality and Differences workshop organized by the Trans-Atlantic Platform for Social Sciences and Humanities. As I shared in an earlier post, I was one of about twenty researchers, scholars, and funders from Europe and the Americas who spent two days identifying priorities for collaborative research. I don’t want to pre-empt my hosts (who still have a ton of work to do compiling and disseminating our feedback) by blogging the substance of our discussions, but I do want to share some self-discoveries I made during the workshop.

First: I was embarrassed to find I harbored a double standard when it comes to scientific research versus research in the social sciences and humanities. I believe in the fundamental importance of basic research in the sciences. Studying ant behavior? Fascinating. Documenting the myriad permutations of trilobites? Great stuff. It drives me nuts when politicians or policy makers mock work like this and tag it as wasteful spending. (Nigel wrote that song on Applied research is great, but it builds on a vast pyramidal base of work that expands our understanding of how the world works. And I think that understanding the natural world is a valid end in and of itself.


Dr. Nigel Hughes performing “Lament for the Passing of the Trilobites.” No grant monies were used in the production of this video.

So I was surprised to find myself mentally devaluing basic research in the fields represented at the workshop. Maybe it’s because the acute problems identified by participants—violence against marginalized people, the death of political refugees and the surge in climate refugees, modern slavery and human trafficking—are so important I want to see research that helps craft solutions NOW. But one issue participants raised repeatedly in our time together was the need for funders to support “slow science”—long term, large scale studies that help us understand patterns and causality. They longed for the social science equivalent of the Framingham Heart Study, which has followed the health and lifestyle of over 5000 participants since 1948. Or the Hubbard Brook Experimental Forest in New Hampshire, which has supported continuous ecological monitoring since 1955. This kind of research has no immediate application, but in the long term may be the only way to tease out how to create sustainable systems and address inequalities in health, education and employment.

Second, I caught myself thinking about inequality as something that could be measured in purely economic terms—perhaps because of the immense attention being given here in the U.S. to wealth inequity. So I was surprised and heartened to hear participants wrestling with how to measure equality in terms of people’s capacity to conceive of, pursue and achieve well-being. What do people need to have, do or be in order to live well? There are groups and individuals tackling this challenge—for example the Gross National Happiness Index of Bhutan, the Life Satisfaction Approach to valuing the environment, or the OECD Guidelines on Measuring Subjective Well-being, but we are far from having metrics that are universally valued and applied. While I worry that measures such as these may be misused to let governments off the hook when it comes to economic fairness, I whole heartedly approve of approaches that look at something more fundamentally important than wealth per se. (Also, I suspect that museums and other cultural organizations contribute more, and more meaningfully, to well-being than to economic parity.


Trailer for HAPPY, a feature documentary that ranges from the swamps of Louisiana to the slums of Calcutta in search of what makes people happy.

I admit to feeling a bit out of place in an academic research gathering, but the workshop gave me a renewed appreciation for the role museums play in bridging the gap between research and action—communicating research findings to the public and to policy makers, and driving the debate on how to turn knowledge into wisdom, and ensure wisdom informs our actions.  Maybe all gatherings of funders and researchers should have a museum practitioner or two in the room, to offer this practical perspective on the ultimate payoff for basic research.







Monday, July 27, 2015

Monday Musing: Thinking the Unthinkable

 The other week I included a sobering story from the New Yorker in Dispatches from the Future of Museums*.  The Really Big One, by Kathryn Shulz, looks at the Cascadia fault line that runs for 700 miles down the coast of the Pacific Northwest, From Cape Mendocino California up to Vancouver.

At some point geologic slippage in this fault zone will result in an earthquake somewhere
Image from National Infrastructure Simulation and Analysis Center
between magnitude 8.0 and 9.2 on the Richter scale. For reference: the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and resulting Tsunami killed more than eighteen thousand people and triggered a meltdown at the Fukushima nuclear power plant. It did somewhere around two hundred and twenty billion in damage, including impact to least 353 cultural landmarks, and destroyed a number of museums.

In forecasting terminology, Earthquakes are “disruptive events,” in this case, events for which we know more or less what will happen, but can’t pinpoint when. As Shulz reports, scientists estimate the chance of a Cascadian earthquake in the vicinity of 8.0 in the next 50 years at roughly one in three, and of a “very big one” in the 9.2 range as one in ten.

Those are pretty bad odds, if you ask me, particularly for museums dedicated to preserving their collections for future generations.

What will the country (and museums) be dealing with when this quake occurs? Quoting Shulz,

“In the Pacific Northwest, the area of impact will cover some hundred and forty thousand square miles, including Seattle, Tacoma, Portland, Eugene, Salem (the capital city of Oregon), Olympia (the capital of Washington), and some seven million people. When the next full-margin rupture happens, that region will suffer the worst natural disaster in the history of North America. Roughly three thousand people died in San Francisco’s 1906 earthquake. Almost two thousand died in Hurricane Katrina. Almost three hundred died in Hurricane Sandy. FEMA projects that nearly thirteen thousand people will die in the Cascadia earthquake and tsunami. Another twenty-seven thousand will be injured, and the agency expects that it will need to provide shelter for a million displaced people, and food and water for another two and a half million.”

Or putting it more succinctly, the director of the FEMA division responsible for this region said “Our operating assumption is that everything west of Interstate 5 will be toast.”

In the face of these projections, what are we to do? As individuals, family members, community members—and museum professionals—what real choices do we make (other than ignoring the forecast)?

The barriers—psychological, cultural, logistic and economic—to doing anything are huge, but I would argue that to fulfill their public trust, museums in the Northwest have to prepare for “the very big one.” Hard choices might include:
·        Identifying artifacts and specimens of such overwhelming importance that they ought to be reposited in other museums
·        Jointly or individually creating inland storage facilities for collections of high value (monetary, historic, artistic, cultural or scientific)
·        Relocating to the most stable location in their existing community, into buildings with state-of-the art earthquake resilience

We all face a range of risk every day—from bicycling to work to living in tornado corridor. But sometimes these risk rise to a level that demands a different kind of attention. In addition to raising awareness of the need for museums to grapple with extreme risk (whether in the Northwest Coast or elsewhere in the country or the world), I’m writing this post in the hope that you will tell me how you face these hard choices—personally or professionally.  Please do share how you, or your museum, is grappling with the prospect of “the very big one.”


*Dispatches from the Future of Museums is CFM’s free weekly e-newsletter. You can access past issues and subscribe here.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Futurist Friday: Rise of the (Cute, Self-aware) Robots

Have you seen Ex Machina yet? I watched it on a flight back from London. Its depiction of artificial intelligence is way, way ahead of the actual state of the field, but this week we saw a hint, just a tiny bit of evidence, that we may be on the path to creating robots that can shape their own destinies.

Meet Nao, a robot as cute an unthreatening as Ex Machina's Ava is seductive and...oh, sorry, no plot spoilers. 

Nao is in the news because it just became the first robot to pass a test of self-awareness. (Not as rigorous as the Turing Test administered to Ava, but an early pre-requisite.)

This video shows what happened when Professor Selmer Bringsjord of New York's Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute asked three Naos which one of them had not received a "dumbing pill" (actually a push of a button) that would render them mute. Watch what happens:




So, first steps on a long road. In the past century we have progressively extended the concept of personhood, and "human" rights to an ever wider circle. In the US women were granted voting rights in 1920. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 ended segregation and banned discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion,  gender or national origin. The Supreme Court of the United States just ruled that gays have the right to marry. Globally, we are beginning to recognize the rights of non-humans as well: In January a court in Argentina granted an Orangutan named Sandra the right to "life, liberty and freedom from harm." In 2012, New Zealand granted a river "rights of personhood"  and appointed legal (human) custodians to represent its interests. 

So, my futurist Friday question for you: can you imagine granting personhood, and legal rights, to robots? And if so, what would a robot need to demonstrate (such as self-awareness) to demonstrate it deserved those rights? 

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Notes from the Team: An Introduction, or Why Predict the Future, Anyway?

 I am so pleased to introduce a new member of the CFM team—Nicole Ivy will be working with me for the next two years, supported by a fellowship from the American Council of Learned Societies. I invited Nicole to introduce herself today—you will be learning more about her, and her work, via the blog in coming months.

“So why try to predict the future at all if it’s so difficult, so nearly impossible? Because making predictions is one way to give warning when we see ourselves drifting in dangerous directions. Because prediction is a useful way of pointing out safer, wiser courses…Best to think about it, though. Best to try to shape it into something good.”
—Octavia E. Butler, “A Few Rules For Predicting the Future”

I am a museum professional. And a skeptical historian. And I am here to help envision the future. At least, this is what I tell my mother. As the newest member of the Center for the Future of Museums team, my job is to research and develop programs that will expand the reach of ground-breaking technologies and ideas throughout the museum community. This work includes identifying trends shaping the museum sector, and also understanding the challenges and implications of these trends—both within and outside of the field. Over the next two years, in my position as a Museum Futurist and an American Council of Learned Societies (ACLS) Public Fellow with the Center for the Future of Museums, I look forward to collaborating with museums as well as with makers, educators, researchers, designers and other individuals (that means you, dear reader) to continue CFM’s work at the leading edge of museum innovation.

In addition to helping incubate projects that shape changes in museum practice, I will also be thinking through important issues raised by emerging conversations around the future of museums. One of my first research projects for CFM will focus on the history of labor organizing in the nonprofit sector. When I arrived, Elizabeth briefed me on recent debates in the field about pay equity and labor conditions, and noted that unionization had been floated as one possible route forward. I look forward to helping lay the groundwork for a serious examination of these issues through the lens of history. By grappling with the histories that inform current debates about fair pay and the unionization of museum workers, we might better envision paths to more equitable stewardship within the field.  

My becoming a futurist with a track record as an historian is not as improbable it might, at first, seem. I come to CFM through my work as an academic, a curatorial fellow, and a public historian. My Ph.D. is a joint degree in African American Studies and American Studies from Yale University. I have taught students of medical history, visual culture, Black Studies and women’s studies at Cornell University, Yale, and, most recently, Indiana University. As an IMLS Fellow in Museum Practice at the African American Museum in Philadelphia, I gained experience in curating, exhibition development, and museum education. I also have eight years’ experience in secondary education, having worked with academic enrichment programs in New Haven Public Schools in Connecticut. My scholarly research centers on the race, gender, technology, and the politics of memorialization. I look forward to attending the University of Houston’s certificate course in strategic foresight to add formal futurist training to my credentials.

I was attracted to the ACLS fellowship position precisely because of these diverse interests: I’m nosily drawn to the future of cultural institutions even as I’m passionate about the pasts that we present-day travelers have inherited. I’m especially inspired by CFM’s commitment to supporting new developments in education and its efforts to promote fruitful partnerships between educators, students, and museums. During my tenure here, I look forward to expanding the practical application of trends in museum innovation into educational leadership. I am honored to solicit your collaboration and feedback as I begin!


Nicole Ivy is a futurist, historian, and lover of slow reading. You can talk back to her on twitter at @nicotron3000.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Futurist Friday: Seeing the Bigger Picture

You can follow FiveBooks (& their cute
manatee mascot) on Twitter
@five_books
Today, for your weekly fix of futurism, I recommend you bop over to the Five Books site to read this wonderful interview with Andrew Curry, director of The Futures Company. Andrew provides a great capsule history of applied futurism and its various strands. A couple of my of my favorite quotes:

"the only point in futures is to change what you do - there's no point in constructing perfect views of emerging landscapes and then doing nothing."

"A lot of futures work is really just getting people to see a bigger picture of the system that they're in, because when things do change quickly or change at all, they change because something outside their immediate system changes, and that creates disruption inside the organisation and its assumptions about itself."

The interview is worth reading in and of itself, but if you have more time, go on to tackle one or more of Andrew's five book picks, the first of which is The Living Company, by Arie de Geus, which he lauds as "fantastically clearly written." De Geus was a senior Shell Oil executive--Shell is notable in futurist circles for the scenarios staff have developed to guide their business decisions, as well as for for sharing this expertise in forecasting with others. (Andrew cites, for example, the assistance Shell gave South Africa in creating scenarios about the post-apartheid era.) 

De Geus bestows the label "living company" on organizations that have exceeded the average (brief) lifespan of their peers. So, for example, a Swedish manufacturing company that has persisted for 700 years, versus a mere 20, which is the average corporate lifespan in the Northern Hemisphere. You see why this book caught my attention--museums' promise to steward their collections for future generations is grounded in the assumption that they can, and will, survive for...well, quite a long time. Centuries, we hope. (Though I've yet to find a museum that set an explicit goal for longevity.) What can museums learn from the oldest living for-profit corporations?

In this essay in the Harvard Business review, de Geus summarized some of his conclusions on how to extend the organizational lifespan. "The manager [of a living company]," he observes, "must place commitment to people before assets, respect for innovation before devotion to policy, the messiness of learning before orderly procedures, and the perpetuation of the community before all other concerns." Sound good to me. I plan to read the book and see how the rest of de Geus' advice may apply to our sector as well.

Andrews other recommendations are:
  • Three Horizons: The Patterning of Hope, by Bill Sharpe. I'm interested in this book because it addresses one of the thorniest issues in applied forecasting: having envisioned a brighter future, how do you map out how to get from here to there? 
  • Technological Revolutions and Financial Capital, by Carlota Perez. Basically about seeing patterns in the history of technology, and how we can apply this to parsing current patterns of change. As Andrew observes, "Being able to think about the world through patterns allows us to make sense of it; otherwise we'd just get caught up in the moment." 
  • Reframing Business, by Richard Norman. I agree with Andrew that the vast majority of books on business strategy are bunk. So I'm intrigued when he tags this as one of only three he thinks are good. (It had better be--Andrew admits it is "a hard slog" and "not airport reading.") The core premise sounds relevant to our work: how markets (for us, the market for cultural/scientific/artistic experiences) is being molded by "different forms of service, different forms of digital behaviour, and different forms of experience behaviour." 
  • The Limits to Growth: The 30-year Update, but Donella H. Meadows, Jorgen Randers and Dennis L.Meadows. The original edition made a highly touted and, as it turned out, inaccurate prediction about the imminent demise of our species from overpopulation and starvation. (Which did immense damage to the credibility of the environmental movement, I fear--for which I haven't fully forgiven the authors.) But the update apparently makes the case we averted catastrophe only by "kicking the can down the road" rather than solving fundamental challenges to our continued survival. I might be willing to give Meadows et al a second hearing. (While keeping in mind that many self-styled prophets have revised their dates for the apocalypse multiple times. So, #skeptical.)
If you do tackle any of these tomes, let me know--I would love to hear your review.

Yours from the future

Elizabeth