Tag Archives: networks

Thinking in networks: what it means for policy makers

Elegant, influential theories have a way to rewire your brain. In my formative years, it was not uncommon to joke that Marxist intellectuals could and would explain absolutely anything in terms of Marxist dialectics. For all our joking, exactly the same thing happened to me, as I dug deep into neoclassical economic theory. I did have access to non-neoclassical theories, but in the end it is the math that makes the difference. Mathematics gives you a grip on the model: by manipulating it, you can stretch it, adapt it, critique it, own it in a way that you can’t really any other way. In the end, the mathematical tools you use to think about the world become a default way to parse empirical data: when your only tool is a hammer, you see every problem as a nail and all that.

The hammer of neoclassical economics is functions. Not just any old function: convex, continuous, differentiable ones – designer functions with smooth hypersurfaces. If everything is a function of this kind, everything (say, your country’s economy) must have a maximum, because (bounded) continuous, convex and differentiable functions have exactly one max. This means there is a perfect (“optimal”) state of the world. You find it by calculus. You can then hack your way around the system with taxes, subsidies and interest rates until you push the economy to that maximum. If you are a consumer, or a worker, you also will be looking at a function, representing your well-being. Again, you can find its max, fine-tuning savings and consumptions, work and leisure into your personal sweet spot. There’s no such thing as unemployed: hey, the function is not discrete! What you are seeing is people that choose to allocate zero hours to work, given the existing wage rate (I exaggerate, but not much).

I spent the past five years learning how to use a new mathematical tool: networks. Going deep into the intuition of the math (as opposed to memorizing the equations) means, in the long run, a rewiring of your brain. What used to look like a nail suddenly makes much more sense as a screw. A good thing, since you are now the proud owner of a screwdriver! What I am seeing now as I consider public policies is this: I think of them as signals that the policy maker sends out. The interesting question is what carries the signal.

Traditional policy signals are broadcast: every agent in the economy receives the same message. Price signals (hence taxes and subsidies, too) are broadcast. So, in general, is regulation. Broadcast makes a lot of sense in an undifferentiated mean: if you want to reach a large number of recipients and they are all disconnected from each other, it’s a good technique. Just push that signal out in all directions, as loud as you can.

Once you really take networks on board, though, you start seeing them everywhere. And when you have all sorts of networks that could carry the signal for you, broadcast seems a blunt way to do things. Consider AIDS prevention policies. Broadcast policy sees that, as a category young people are more likely than old-timers to engage in unsafe sex, so it puts posters up in high schools. Since you can’t really be too graphic about it for political reasons, such posters tend to be quite bland, and immediately drowned by far stronger broadcasting signals that glorify sexual prowess and availability, those of commercial markets. Even if your average teen does become more careful, the epidemics still spreads through the very promiscuous few, who are unlikely to be impressed by a bland poster. All in all, near-zero impact is a good guess.

On the other hand, research has shown that networks of sexual partnerships are scale-free: a small number of individuals (not categories) have a very large number of sexual partners. These people are the main vector for the virus to spread. So here’s the networked version of AIDS prevention policy: go talk to the hubs. Dispatch researchers to identify them (it does not matter where you start, with scale-free networks it will take a small number of hops before you get to one); have one-on-one conversations with them. Spend time with them, they are important. Show them the data. Hire them, even. Should be cheap: it’s only a handful of people, who can have a disproportionate amount of impact on the epidemics by switching behavior. See the difference in approach?

In my talk at Policy Making 2.0 last week I tried to explore what it means, for policy makers, to think in terms of networks. I proposed that the gains from doing so are:

  1. impact: more bang for your taxpayer buck.
  2. reduced iatrogenics: policy becomes more surgical, so it causes less unintended damage.
  3. robustness to “too big to know”. Very simple network models exhibit sophisticated behavior. You can model several real-world phenomena without losing your grip on the intuition of the model, and therefore make more accountable decision.
  4. compassion. Networks owe their uncanny efficiency in carrying signals to large inequalities in the connectedness of nodes. Further, it is easy to build very simple models that produce inequalities even with identical nodes. This, at least for me, gets rid of the “underserving poor” rhetoric and fosters simpathy towards the smart and hard-working people out there that found themselves on the wrong side of system dynamics.
  5. measurability. Social interactions that happen online are now cheap to keep records of; you can use those record to build networks of interactions run quantitative analysis on them.

If you want to know more, you might find my (annotated) slides interesting. I am indebted, as ever, to the INSITE project and to all participants in Masters of Networks.

A cool flock of birds flew overhead.

Policy making for smart swarms

My friend Vinay Gupta has come up with the idea to start the Big Picture Days series with an event on what he calls swarm cooperatives, meaning instant campaigns, unconferences, hackathons and other unorthodox constellations of people in action that are both collaborative and non-hierarchical. He got in touch and asked me to give a talk about it in the context of public policy. That sounds crazy, but it got me thinking. For years now I have been involved in policy initiatives that incorporate an element of that openness, of that fluidity. Can we really speak of policy making for swarms? If so, what does that mean?

At the heart of this concept lies a fundamental paradox. Swarms derive their uncanny efficiency from radical decentralization of decision making and action; yet, decentralization might (and does) cause the swarm to lose coherence, and its action to lose directionality. That does not work well with public policy, that requires agency: no agency, no policy. The main tool I use to debunk this paradox is network theory: I think about swarms as people in networks. In networks, nodes might be equal in the amount of top-down power over others, but they will typically be very unequal in terms of connectivity, hence the ability to spread information (including narratives and calls to action) across the network. Uneven connectivity adds some directionality to the swarm, in the sense that the most connected people get it to go their way most of the times.

Public policy is generally understood as a top-down process: some leader somewhere makes a decision and that decision is enacted. I call this the linear model. Since it misses all of the feedbacks and adaptation, the linear model does not work if the context of your policy is a complex adaptive system: the system simply changes its shape to route around the policy, or even push it back (more details). Not only do its recipes not deliver: they might cause serious harm. This provides a good case for trying to apply swarm thinking to government.

It can be frightfully difficult, because the linear model is encoded into law and hardwired into organizational charts, remits and procedures: but the potential rewards are immense. Why? Because if you want to build a swarm, you need people to want to join it. By definition, these people can’t be your employees, or anyone you have command and control over; they have to be free agents that want to cooperate. Now, there are already very many opportunities to collaborate out there, and few of them have attracted the lion’s share of available “swarming” (think Wikipedia, with tens of millions of participants). This means that people will cherrypick, and you will have to work extra hard to win them over. Swarm building is a buyers’ market. That’s a big reality check for your project right there.

The first consequence of all this: the swarm-builder’s payoff to bullshit immediately becomes negative. Well-packaged bullshit might fill a report or a PowerPoint presentation that gets past your boss, but has no chance of whipping up enthusiasm in a bunch of strangers that are not taking your money. I believe this has given some competitive edge to my own projects. Cutting corners would not do it: I had to work at full steam, or call it quits.

Vinay’s invitation gave me the opportunity to lay out tips and tricks to policy making for swarms. I ended up with a weird list, with items like Falkvinge’s Law, randomness (my favorite), timebombs, the fishing rod model, dogfood and parties. It is tentative and incomplete, but does represent the very frontier of my thinking (and my practice!) of public policy. If you are interested in this kind of stuff, you might like my slides. I added my notes, so you get a reasonable rendition of my 10-minute talk at Big Picture Days.

The apprentice crowdsorcerer: learning to hatch online communities

I am working on the construction of a new online community, that will be called Edgeryders. This is still a relatively new activity, that deploys a knowledge not entirely coded down yet. There is no instruction manual that, when adhered to, guarantees good results: some things work but not every time, others work more or less every time but we don’t know why.

It is not the first time I do this, and I am discovering that, even in such a wonderfully complex and unpredictable field, one can learn from experience. A lot. Some Edgeryders stuff we imported from the Kublai experience, like logo crowdsourcing and recruiting staff from the fledgling community. Other design decisions are inspired from projects of people I admire, projects like Evoke or CriticalCity Upload; and many are inspired by mistakes, both my own and other people’s.

It is a strange experience, both exhalting and humiliating. You are the crowdsorcerer, the expert, the person that can evoke order and meaning from the Great Net’s social magma. You try: you say your incantations, wave your magic wand and… something happens. Or not. Sometimes everything works just fine, and it’s hard to resist the temptation of claiming credit for it; other times everything you do backfires or fizzles out, and you can’t figure out what you are doing wrong to save your life. Maybe there is no mistake – and no credit to claim when things go well. Social dynamics is not deterministic, and even our best efforts can not guarantee good results in every case.

As far as I can see, the skill I am trying to develop – let’s call it crowdsorcery – requires:

  1. thinking in probability (with high variance) rather than deterministically. An effective action is not the one that is sure to recruit ten good-level contributors, but the one that reaches out to one thousand random strangers. Nine hundred will ignore you, ninety will contribute really lame stuff, nine will give you good-level contibutions and one will have a stroke of genius that will turn the project on its head and influence the remaining ninety-nine (the nine hundred are probably a lost cause in every scenario). The trick is that no one, not even him- or herself, knows in advance who that random genius is: you just need to move in that general direction, and hope he or she will find you.
  2. monitoring and reacting rather than planning and controlling (adaptive stance). It is cheaper and more effective: if a community displays a natural tropism, it makes more sense to encourage it and trying to figure out how to use it for your purposes than trying to fight it. In the online world, monitoring is practically free (even “deep monitoring” à la Dragon Trainer), so don’t be stingy with web analytics.
  3. build a redundant theoretical arsenal instead of going pragmatic (“I do this because it works”). Theory asks interesting questions, and I find that trying to read your own work in the light of theory helps crowdsorcerers and -sorceresses to build themselves better tools and encourages their awareness of what they do. I am thinking a lot along a complexity science approach and using a little run-of-the-mill network math. For now.

These general principles translate into design choices. I have decided to devote a series of posts to the choices my team and I are making in the building of Edgeryders. You can find them here (for now, only the first one is online). If you find errors or have suggestions, we are listening.