An unfinished version of this post was published by mistake to Google Reader a few weeks ago. If you’ve read it, please consider reading the finished version as well, it is substantially different – and better. My apology for the mess. The post can also be downloaded here.

Makers is a novel, published in 2009 by Canadian science fiction author and Boing Boing co-editor Cory Doctorow. It deals with two entrepreneurs from the DIY scene (think MAKE Magazine, or Wired’s New Industrial Revolution), Perry Gibson and Lester Banks, inventing new things. Their inventions transform the world around them, not so much from a technical as from a social and economic point of view. They give rise to a highly decentralized organization and business model called “New Work” in the fictional context of the novel. I was referred to it by friends in the Italian physical hacking scene, which I started hanging out with in 2008.

When I first read the book I found it very prophetic, in the way that the best science fiction can be; also, I was stricken by how much of it translated pretty directly into widely accepted economic theory. After musing on it for about a year, I have become a convert (so much that I have participated in Arduino-based projects and started out experimenting with economic policy for makers). At the same time, though – in the context of some research that I am involved with – I have started to ask myself if the “innovation society” we seem to be trying to build (witness the Lisbon Strategy and innumerable policy documents) is indeed sustainable. Increasing quantities of innovation, after all, sort of implies the economy growing at an increasing rate, and this is likely to have straining side effects on the natural environment or even our own human limitations. Does innovation have a dark side? How much of can we take without descending into dystopia?

Doctorow has created a pretty believable fictional economy which seems to be, in some sense, the innovation society we are heading for. So I decided to study it more closely: that is, re-read the book with an economist’s eyes, to zero in on the economics of what’s going on in there.

Schumpeter’s creative destruction

The main economic engine in the world of Makers is Joseph Schumpeter’s theory of creative destruction. It is laid out straight from chapter one by CEO Langdon Kettlewell in the press conference to announce the Kodak-Duracell merger:

Capitalism is eating itself. The market works, and when it works it commodifies or obsoletes everything.

At the end of the press conference, reporter Suzanne Church – who used to be an economic journalist in Detroit, and as such covered the demise of the car ecosystem – muses about being haunted by decay, even in the Silicon Valley, which was supposed to have incorporated failure as just a step on the road to ultimate success:

Now she was back in that old rustbelt funk, with the feeling that she was witness not to a beginning, but to a perpetual ending, a cycle of destruction that would tear down everything solid and reliable in the world.

Commodification and obsolescence, however, should be thought as a feature, not a bug. It is, in fact the way capitalism produces abundance. Tjan, the business manager Kodacell brings in to help Perry and Lester, is well aware of this:

So, if you want to make a big profit, you’ve got to start over again, invent something new, and milk it for all you can before the first imitator shows up. The more this happens, the better and cheaper everything gets. It’s how we got here, you see. It’s what the system is for.

Price wars and Bertrand equilibrium

The mechanism that drives the “destruction” part of creative destruction in Makers is cut-throat price competition. Innovative products are undercut by imitators, who scoop up the entire market thanks to lower prices. The process is iterated until the price reaches cost (including an acceptable remuneration of risk and capital):

In a good market, you invent something and charge all the market will bear for it. Someone else figures out how to do it cheaper, or decides they can do it for a slimmer margin [...] and so you have to drop your prices to compete. Then someone comes along who’s less greedy or more efficient than both of you and undercuts you again, and again and again, until eventually you get down to [...] a baseline that you can’t get lower than, the cheapest you can produce and stay in business.

This is Tjan speaking on his first night at the Perry – Lester venture. To an economist, he is giving a texbook rendition of Bertrand competition, a price war leading to a zero-profit equilibrium.

Unemployment and labor economics issues

Creative destruction rearranges production factors in the economic system, supposedly for the good. Unfortunately, some of these elements are people, and rearranging may involve a lot of pain, humiliation and fear. Doctorow embeds labour economics issues deep into the novel: the Kodacell press conference is interrupted by a protest of laid off staffers. Kettlewell’s first email to Suzanne asks the big question looming underneath Makers:

What happens when all the things you are good at are no good to anyone anymore?

Research initiated at the beginning of the current recession has cast doubts about the possibility to successfully mass-retrain a laid-off workforce to adjust to the changing needs of an innovation economy (New York Times). Labour supply seems still oriented to selling man-hours and expecting to be managed in a more or less traditionally Tayloristic way.

Brian Arthur’s building-block innovation

When Suzanne reaches Perry and Lester’s den to be shown what it is they do, Perry demonstrates their method to technical innovation. Basically, it consists of recombining existing technology in new ways. This is not only possible, but dirt cheap and fundamentally easy, because, in Perry’s words

Everywhere you look there’s devices for free that have everything you need to make anything do anything.

And Lester is even more concrete:

You know how they say a sculptor starts with a block of marble and chips away everything that doesn’t look like a statue? Like he can see the statue in the block? I get like that with garbage: I see the pieces on the heaps and in roadside trash, and I can just see how it can go together.

Makers subscribes to the complexity theory’ view on innovation, as discussed by John Holland, Brian Arthur and other researchers: making new things is (mostly) about finding new ways to recombine existing building blocks. Successful combinations become, in their turn, new blocks, so that an initially simple technology (the famous six simple machines of the ancient greeks) bootstraps to increasing levels of sophistication.

Open source and the speed of creative destruction

Perry and Lester’s ability to combine technological building blocks is greatly enhanced by the fact that anything important to them can be performed by open source technologies. This enables them to develop working prototypes from off-the-shelf equipment and software and put them into a manufacturing pipeline without worrying about licensing issues. This has two consequences: first, in the world of Makers ecosystems develop preferably around open source technology, because people like Perry and Lester have every incentive to route around proprietary technology; second, that the speed of the creative destruction cycle is greatly increased.

I think this may be the most important intuition Makers has to offer. Just think: we increasingly buy in ecosystem (Mac-iPhone-iPad-MobileMe, or Google-Android-Google Apps, or Linux-Apache-IBM’s proprietary web solutions); ecosystems grow faster if they can build on open source building blocks, so that the open source ones tend to outcompete the proprietary ones in the long run; but innovations in open source ecosystems are almost impossible to protect, and that lowers their average margin as the highly profitable grace period gets shorter. The solution, as Tjan suggests (see above) and most policy makers worldwides agree, is to increase the pace of innovation. This, however, raises the question of just how fast consumers can wrap their head around innovation: every heavy web user is familiar with the sensation that companies are putting out new services faster than we can absorb them, and sometimes we just have no time for them, no matter how cool they are. Google Wave, anyone? So, it could be that the destruction side of creative destruction prevails, landing the economy of Makers into a state of low margins and low growth, as more inventions fail to turn into more successful products on the market.

Becattini and Brusco’s competitive-cooperative manufacturing systems

Perry and Lester run a very small business unit (themselves and a few helpers), so their global competitiveness depends on the neutrality of unit costs with respect to production volume – in other words, no economies of scale. In fact Perry and Lester’s Florida junkyard is a scale-efficient production unit. In Tjan’s words

Every industry that required a factory yesterday requires a garage today.

Of course, it’s hard to get away from the fact that a lot of the cheapness in the system comes from exploiting economies of scale. The trick is that component manufacturing is scale-intensive, but the artifacts that Perry and Lester are interested in, being assemblies of such components, have a much lower minimum efficient production scale. In such a scenario, manufacturing systems most fit to compete are those that combine the agility of horizontal and vertical disintegration with low transaction costs, mutual trust and informational transparence. Vertical disintegration lets firms grow large where there are economies of scale to be exploited (components, silicon chips); horizontal disintegration enhances competition in the finished goods market (even though whichever manufacturers will win out in any given period of time will still buy components from the same handful of suppliers, therefore saving on the costs of reallocation of workers and manufacturing capacity); low transaction costs enable vertically disintegrated “manufacturing“ units like Perry and Lester’s (mostly R&D and business development, really) to build ad hoc networks of suppliers fast. In other words, New Work displays both tough competition and cooperation over and above formalized contracts.

Sebastiano Brusco and Giacomo Becattini’s model of industrial districts display just these characteristics (as, with different nuances, the work of researchers as Charles Sabel, Michael Piore and Annalee Saxenian). In Makers the low transaction costs part is implemented top-down through networked company Kodacell rather than, as in Brusco and Becattini, bottom-up through evolving conventions and reputation effects in a small territory, home to all the forms involved. So, when Lester invents Home Aware, an ecosystem can be summoned out of Kodacell’s decentralized “teams” structure. Tjan explains:

There are ten teams that do closet organizing in the network, and a bunch of shippers, packers, movers and storage experts. A few furniture companies. [...] The plan is to start our sales through the consultants at the same time as we start showing at trade shows for furniture companies.

The European Commission’s Living Lab

After a fire at a shantytown near the factory, Perry decides to let the inhabitants rebuild it on Kodacell premises (formerly a junkyard), which is largely unused. Kettlewell tries to get him to oust them. Perry holds his ground: he, Lester and Tjan had been meaning to invent something for the homeless people anyway.

We’ve built a living lab on our doorstep for exploring an enormous market opportunity to provide low-cost, sustainable technology for use by a substantial segment of the population who have no fixed address. There are millions of American squatters and billions of squatters worldwide. They have money to spend and no one else is trying to get it from them.

In the real word, Living Labs are a concept explored by the European Commission in the context of innovation policy. The idea is to replace consumer tests of new products with much larger scale, more realistic tests made possible a dense network of many actors collaborating on the same territory. Perry’s in-house shantytown would become a toy universe to model the squatters market: Kodacell can invent something and run a market test with limited costs and in a short time, but also real consumers spending real money. More importantly, it can recruit squatters themselves to participate in identifying needs and designing the products. And in fact it does: this is the role of the shantytown leader, Francis, who collaborates closely with Perry and Lester to think up new products.

Arrow’s Paradox and the value of invention

New Work’s downfall is heralded by an investor confidence crisis in Kodacell. Part of the problem is that analysts have a hard time figuring out how to value inventions, that are becoming an important part of Kodacell’s market value (the other part is inherent scarcity of genuine entrepreneurship). Kodacell ends up with a lot of novel products, with high returns on small projects. How many of these projects are going to scale to be large hits? Kettlewell:

Sure, if you looked at [our numbers] our way, they were great. If you looked at them the Street looks at them, we were in deep §#1t. Analysts couldn’t figure out how to value us.

This is yet another version of Kenneth Arrow’s famous paradox: markets for information typically don’t work well, because, in order to estimate precisely the value of something you need to know all about it. But information, of course, has no market value for you if you know it already. Invention is essentially information: until it is on the market and has climbed the diffusion curve, it is quite difficult to value it.

The New Work bust and the shift in consumer preferences

When part 2 of Makers opens, the New Work movement is over. A stock market bust has shattered the Kodacell business model, which had been promptly imitated by other large companies such as Westinghouse (who recruited Tjan off Kodacell). As a result, the movement is dead. Perry and Lester, still in their junkyard in Florida, start “the ride”, a sort of smart theme park-memorial of New Work, which is to be the subject of the rest of the book. The New Work fiasco is one of the least convincing parts of the book from an economist’s point of view: save for the aforementioned value of invention issue, it is hard to make out anything that would provoke more than a short-term market fluctuation. Kettlewell:

Analysts couldn’t figure out how to value us. Add a little market chaos and some old score-settling @##holes [...] and it’s a wonder we lasted as long as we did.

Even less convincing is the ensuing consumer disaffection for the goods that New Work had produced. In Perry’s words:

No one cares about invention anymore.

There is no obvious reason why this should happen. The second Perry-Lester invention, Home Aware, has been very successful, shipping a million units in six weeks. One would think that, even if the company originally producing it went bust, a competitor would step in to service and expand the existing customer base. After the 2000 dotcom bust consumers actually increased their use of the online services that they found useful, undaunted by their association with dotcoms. Yahoo, Google, Amazon and the like continued to prosper in their respective markets, if not in the stock market. I looked at time series data for NASDAQ and e-commerce sales over the period 1999-2009; the correlation between them is practically nonexistent (negative, in fact), as you can see from the following graph:

So, is the innovation society sustainable in Makers?

Sustainability questions are tricky. Time and again, scientists from have made doomsday predictions that went viral as public opinion found them really convincing, but later turned out to be way off the mark. From Malthus to the Club of Rome and the Millennium Bug, we seem to have a bias towards underestimating the adaptability of our society and its economy (cultural change makes the birth rate drop, raising prices of oil increase the energy efficiency of GDP and so on). Doomsday feels right at some level: it may just be a heritage of our Neolithic past, or a very deeply ingrained cultural myth (Apocalypse, Ragnarok etc.). Certainly that suggests a lot of caution in predicting it.

The economics of New Work are at least plausible; its downfall is the least plausible of its features. I was expecting something like Kodacell and Westinghouse spinning off their New Work branches, or selling them to more nimble, lower overhead companies that would commodify the networked organization and finance that the giant companies have to offer. The history of open source has already shown that you don’t really need a large company to achieve coordination, after all. The book, however, ends on a deeply pessimistic note: the large evil company has won the battle against the ride movement and recruited Lester, neutralizing his innovative potential; Perry has become a sort of wandering troubleshooter, lonely and poor. Doctorow the economist seems to be supportive of the innovation society, but Doctorow the author definitely is not. I wonder – really wonder – which if the two Doctorows will be right in the end.

Sorry, this post in Italian only. For an automated translation cluck on the “translate” link.

Come molti altri, sto cercando di farmi un’idea sulla morte del web profetizzata da Wired. Se mi viene in mente qualcosa di sensato da dire in merito lo farò. Per ora la cosa che mi sembra più urgente è lanciare un “allarme infografiche”.

L’articolo di cui tutto il morituro web sta discutendo si apre con una bellissima infografica colorata in perfetto stile Wired (questa qui a sinistra), in cui si vede bene che la quota del traffico internet (cioè pacchetti di dati TCP/IP) attribuibile al web è in calo: da questo calo parte la discussione. A questo punto, Rob Beschizza su Boing Boing ha provato a ridisegnare il grafico partendo dagli stessi dati (la fonte è Cisco) ma in valore assoluto, tenendo conto che il traffico web si è moltiplicato per un fattore centomila dal 1996 al 2005, e il traffico Internet si è moltiplicato per un fattore sette dal 2006 al 2010. Il risultato è che il web non solo cresce, ma cresce a una velocità crescente. Il grafico è risultato così:

Oltretutto, diversi commentatori hanno osservato che misurare l’uso di internet in consumo di banda, invece che – diciamo – in tempo di fruizione sopravvaluta l’importanza degli usi multimedia (video e VOIP) rispetto a quelli basati sul testo (email).  Tutta la discussione di Anderson assume un sapore completamente diverso: è comunque intelligente e argomentata, ma perde l’aura profetica, e anzi sembra un po’ una roba furbetta e vagamente interessata.

Non saprei dire se il web è morto o meno, ma sono abbastanza sicuro che è il momento di farsi qualche domanda seria sulla visualizzazione dell’informazione. Negli ultimi anni si è lavorato molto su questo tema, a partire dal presupposto – corretto – che l’evoluzione ci ha dotato di un cervello molto veloce nell’elaborare gli stimoli visivi.  Un grafico a torta comunica in modo molto più immediato di una tabella o, Dio non voglia, di un’equazione. A partire da questa considerazione uno dei miei eroi, il pioniere dei computers Douglas Englelbart, finì per concepire i computers come macchine con cui comunicare tramite un’interfaccia grafica. Le infografiche sono una punta avanzata di questo movimento, metà informazione, metà arte.

Ma forse l’elaborazione più lenta ha anche un vantaggio: ci permette di prendere un po’ di confidenza con il dato, di esaminarlo con un minimo di distanza critica. L’immagine, ancora di più del dato, ha un potere seduttivo che può essere strumentalizzato, e spesso lo è. Nel campo specifico degli open data, cioè dell’apertura e diffusione delle basi dati delle autorità pubbliche, Daniel McQuillan (tra gli altri) ha avuto modo di commentare che la visualizzazione, proprio per questo motivo, finisce per non dare trazione alle comunità.

Alle tre categorie di menzogne di Sir Charles Dilke — bugie, maledette bugie e statistiche — se ne potrebbe aggiungere una quarta, quella delle infografiche: che sarebbero poi menzogne al quadrato, perché già si basano su dati “massaggiati” (la scelta di Wired di usare quote di banda anziché valori assoluti secondo me è furbetta, scandalistica e in definitiva in contrasto con la deontologia dei giornalisti)  e ad essi aggiungono la seduzione delle immagini e del colore. Vabbeh, direte voi, è Wired, mica l’American Economic Review, serve a fare un po’ di chiacchiere al prossimo aperitivo. Mica tanto, perché l’argomento trattato è politicamente molto carico, e vengono dichiarati vincitori Jobs, Zuckerberg e i sostenitori degli ecosistemi chiusi. Se noi ci comportiamo come se la previsione fosse vera, contrinbuiremo a farla avverare, comprando iPad e apps. L’orientamento “leggero” dell’opinione pubblica non è privo di conseguenze, come si vede bene nella politica italiana.

Conclusione 1: come al solito, non ci sono pranzi gratis. L’abilità del cervello nell’elaborare stimoli grafici lo rende anche più vulnerabile ai tentativi di influenzare questa elaborazione. Conclusione 2: se qualcuno vuole convincervi di qualcosa, e a sostegno delle sue conclusioni tira fuori una grigia, brutta tabella in bianco e nero è probabile che abbia in mano qualcosa: se tira fuori una bella infografica professionale e colorata, beh, meglio stare in guardia. E tenere d’occhio il portafoglio.

I still want to travel less, but the occasion is worth an exception. I am in Turin to follow David Lane’s course on what he calls “innovation in agent-artifact space”. David, I freely admit it, is one of my heroes. To begin with, he was in the economics program of the Santa Fe Institute – the cradle of complexity science and its multidisciplinary approach – from the very start: he was one of its directors after Brian Arthur got it its headstart. Sitting in one of his lectures is like riding in a rollercoaster designed by a sadistic architect: he darts from modelling ant behaviour in an anthill to flint axe bulding techniques in the Neolithic age. I hold on for dear life and hope my brain is still in one piece at the end of the lecture.

I’m convinced that the complexity approach to economics will bear fruit. It’s super-agile, because it borrows modeling strategies and hacks from biology, physics, computer science, network math, ethnography, you name it; and it’s very rigorous, because its champions tend to be better than traditional economists at math (though the latter are also very good in a different, more static kind of way). So I forge on, hoping to understand better the emergence phenomena unfolding right in my backyard – most recently the self-organization of the program for the Kublai Camp 2010. I’m stubborn enough that at some point I’ll see the light, I hope.

Two British students had a great idea: Cheatneutral, “a market-based solution to the unhappiness associated to cheating on your partner”. Since you can’t refrain from cheating, pay someone to be faithful for you, so that the overall quantity of infidelity worldwide stays the same.

It’s a joke, of course (though a surprising amount of people took it seriously), but one that stings: no wonder it spread on the media and reached the Houses of Parliament. Because, as the founders state on their website:

Cheatneutral is about offsetting infidelity. We’re the only people doing it, and Cheatneutral is a joke.

Carbon offsetting is about paying for the right to carry on emitting carbon. The Carbon offset industry sold £60 million of offsets last year, and is rapidly growing. Carbon offsetting is also a joke.

I started my career as an environmental economist. In the early 90s tradeable emission rights were already all the rage, supported by academia and the authorities, from the British government’s Blueprint for a Green Economy to the World Bank’s Global Environmental Facility. The logic of these instruments holds water, but at the price of accepting a static and machine-like vision of the economy that I now find undefendable. Time to have a good laugh with the Cheatneutral founders, and move on. (Hat tip: Francesco Silvestri @ Eco&Eco)

CriticalCity’s victory at TechGarage was simply incredible. For one, it was overwhelming: the Milano-based crew won all three prizes (the first prize; the Wired award; and the users’ award. In fact, several VCs in the room improvised a pool of seed money for funding the startup! This sounds like an urban legend, but it is actually true: read Marco’s report – he was there). On top of that, their project is uncompromisingly not-for-profit (“we can’t and won’t monetize our player’s commitment to improve their cities”, they said), while TechGarage is a sancta sanctorum of for-profit enterprise. Somehow, this coalition of investors and business angels perceived CC as too good an idea not to make it happen.

There is a third reason why this story is incredible. CC does not come out from one of the many startup incubators built by the private sector, like Telecom Italia’s Working Capital. It comes from an environment for designing creative projects launched by the Italian public sector: Kublai, that I have the honour to have designed and to manage on behalf of the Ministry of economic development (presentation in English here). Even Gianluca, Dpixel president and TechGarage patron, got in touch with CC as a member of the Kublai Award jury.

1. Communities, if they are oriented in the right way, can single out the best ideas. Kublai aggregates creative projects, not lolcats videos: they are complex, and their assessment is multifaceted and multidimensional. CriticalCity’s project document is more than 30 pages long with attachments. The Kublaian community’s consensus on CC predicted with great energy and effectiveness what happened at TechGarage and elsewhere.

2. The public sector, traditionally more public goods-oriented than the private, finds itself in a strategic position. Artifacts like Wikipedia, Delicious, Flickr, Twitter have public good nature, i.e. they are resources for everybody to use. Now, public goods are great, but being public means there is no rivalry in their consumption, so they are by definition difficult to monetize. Consequently many great web 2.0 out there have business model problems. This is an opportunity for the public sector, whose very mission is to produce public goods. After the tragedy of the commons started in the 1700s, digital technologies allow today to invert the trend and start creating new commons.

It seems to me that an extraordinary opportunity open up, such as I did not think I would see in my lifetime. We have democratized creativity, so that thinking up ambitious projects like CriticalCity and trying to make them happen has come to be a course of action available to normal young people like Augusto, Duccio, Chantal and the rest of them; we have web 2.0, a very powerful tool for aggregating ideas and people, and maybe now also for selecting the best among them; we are beginningto have a first generation of people that work on the side of public administrations, and understand the language, and can use the tools.

This first generation has today a new mission: rewire the economy to enable the production of new commons. Wikipedia and the rest may have shaky business models, but their value to the collective well-being and global competitiveness is undisputable. A government worth its salt must enable these things. And it can, because it wields very large resources that are normally used in very low productivity efforts: it has been remarked that all projects showcased at Public Services 2.0 put together had the same budget as a single project of the e-participation European programme. We need rewiring the economy to funnel attention and money towards people like the CriticalCity boys and girls, who dream (realistic) dreams of building resources for everyone to use, that for this very reason are difficult to monetize. It is difficult, but not impossible, and we need to do it. I’m going for it. I hope – and I believe – I will not walk this path alone.

In my early foray into computer graphics in the late 80s I came across Symbolics, a spinoff of MIT AI Lab doing (among other things) research in advanced visualization. I was dumbfounded by this video, premiered by Symbolics at SIGGRAPH 1987. How could they achieve their flock of birds  to move in such a natural-looking way? At the time it looked like sorcery: I was a humble economics student in a small town in Italy, with not a chance in hell to grasp the extension of the knowledge wielded by MIT computer whizs. So I put it away in a corner on my mind. Until, in 2009, I chanced on a 1992 book, Mitchell Waldrop’s Complexity, that actually knows the answer to my 22-year old question. Each bird or fish in the flock follows three simple rules of behaviour:

1. It tries to maintain a minimum distance from other objects in the environment, including other birds/fish (Symbolics’ Craig Reynolds called them “boids”).
2. It tries to match velocities with nearby birds/fish.
3. It tries to move toward the perceived center of mass of nearby birds/fish.

The natural-looking flocking behaviour is emergent. As far as the program is concerned, there is no entity called flock: it is just moving about individual boids. Simple rules for local interaction among them produce an elegant and effective collective behaviour.

Wait a minute. This is not so different from what is happening in Kublai. Example: we wanted the community to go and say hello to new members. Of course you cannot issue a decree that this is to happen. So what we did was this: Walter and I, who are friends and also particularly active community members, agreed that we would do it, created a Welcome Group and started doing just that. This produced some sort of flocking behaviour: our “net neighbours” (at least some of them) started imitating us, and joined the group. Soon they developed a more effective way to keep track of who was doing what (after some trial-and-error Pico proposed a widget which everyone was happy with), and their net neighbours started following their example… including the initiators!

Communities are, by definition, impossible to control: but they are certainly possible to influence. This is no rocket science: most of us have some experience of it. This flocking behaviour intuition, if confirmed by analysis, could lead to developing techniques for influencing (not sure “managing” is the appropriate word) social networks based on establishing “islands” of local interactions where certain rules apply, and watching them spread out through the network’s links. Of course where you start matters: it just so happens that Walter and I are by far the most eigenvector central people in Kublai, according to Ruggero.

I am wondering whether this mechanism could somehow help us understand why people seem “too eager” to collaborate in social networks, and why, conversely, oppurtunistic behaviour is a lot less widespread than one would be inclined to think (this remark run in several talks at Public Services 2.0). Cooperation as an emergent property of networks, as opposed to an intrinsic property of individuals?

Public Services 2.0 turned out to be really exciting. Of course I knew most of the projects out there, but it was good to get to meet the people behind them in person and to get their vision behind the projects themselves.

Regularities surfaced. For example, participants in policy-oriented social network are regularly more constructive than you would expect (half the messages in PatientOpinion are to say thank you – this on a highly sensitive government area like the National Health Service and with anonymous posting). Also, most projects emphasize collaboration, but there is a great deal of competition as well; Social Innovation Camp is structured as a beauty contest; we have our own Kublai Award; and everybody does metrics, “karma systems” of some sort to acknowledge active membership of the community. Networks seem to have a number of interesting properties that are emergent: they cannot be well understood just by looking at the level of the participating agent. They sometimes seem to have a will of their own: both Savvy Chavvy and Kublai evolved towards uses quite different from the ones they were designed for.

If networks are entities (I suspect they may in fact be complex systems, and that some of the complexity math could apply) and not just ways to connect nodes, then just what are we are doing here? We are deploying services and doing policy, that’s for sure. It’s not macro policy – we don’t manipulate aggregates like public consumption. And not micro policies either – we don’t tweak incentives for individual agents, like tax rates. It’s meso policy; and that’s a pretty unchartered territory so far. In a policy oriented social network, their creators enjoy in their turn somekind of meso status; we do not wield coercion power (macro), but it certainly cannot be said we are just users among users (micro). We work by meso tools: moral suasion, reputation management, expanding islands of rules for  local interactions that generate “flocking behaviour” (like “when you log in, take a minute to say hello and welcome to the newly registered members”) – hell, even parties in Second Life! It’s an entirely new territory, that must be chartered; and the crowd that David, Lee and Dominic gathered in Brussels seems the most likely candidate to do it. So let’s get down to it!

(More related posts, videos etc. here)

Er… I’m an economist actually, madam. True though, my working tools have been kind of unusual over the latest years, since I started working on the creativity/innovation/development nexus: not only blogs and social networks, but also parties, barcamps and Second Life-Real Life mashups. Much if the stuff I do feels right, and a lot of it goes surprisingly well, but it is by no means easy being confident that I really am getting it right, and that I am not missing out important opportunities simply because I do not see them. The economics I studied at college does not help me in this; nor do the intellectual contributions picked up along the way, from game theory to new economic geography, from the regional analysis of innovation à la Saxenian to public choice theory, important as they are. And when you find itself spending taxpayer money to improve your Second Life avatar to generate credibility (ok, that was about five dollars, but it’s the concept that matters), well, then it’s time to update your theoretical framework.

I looked around for a few years and I think I have spotted a promising thread in complexity economics. It is the attempt to apply to the economic domain a conceptual framework that developed in completely different disciplines, from biology to meteorology, in which the classic approach based on reductionism and determinism was not yielding results. Though this approach can be traced back to – surprise surprise – Viennese school economists, Von Hayek in particular, the birthplace of the concept of complex system is generally thought to be the Santa Fe Institute. So I started to hang out with David A. Lane, who worked in Santa Fe and now teaches in Italy, and to exchange some thoughts with him. Lately we have been speaking a lot about Kublai, and two of his students are trying to conceptualize the Kublai social network as a complex system: the approach seems interesting, we’ll see what comes out of it.

Meanwhile I have started to read Complexity Perspectives on Innovation and Social Change, by David and others (forthcoming). Compared with his articles of the late 90s and early 2000s there is a noticeable development: the “complexity approach” of that time is turning into a full-fledged economic theory. And it accounts for something that IMHO badly needs accounting for: namely, that technical innovation does not exist. What does exist in innovation, that happens in the agents-artifacts-culture space, and that involves people, modes of interaction, new artifacts and the set of attributions concerning all of the above. Technology is a part of this, and it does not make sense analytical sense to separate it out from the whole.

For a plain, rank-and-file economist like myself, spoonfed on Keynes and Edgeworth, reading this stuff is like going on some kind of psychedelic trip. I read of “Darwinian accounts”, “funcional orthogonality”, “agent-artifact space”, “attributional shifts” and even “exaptive bootstrapping dynamics” – a locution which I have not even been able to translate into Italian – until my brain starts to smoke like on old, overheated engine. But it’s good, very good, and well worh the effort. And I can’t help thinking – with some kind of warped professional pride – that David teaches in a department of economics: there must be something right in a discipline that can question itself so deeply, and to keep on giving me, after twenty odd years, new stimuli.