“local”
74 posts under this tag.
In the South Seas there is a cargo cult of people. During the war they saw airplanes with lots of good materials, and they want the same thing to happen now. So they’ve arranged to make things like runways, to put fires along the sides of the runways, to make a wooden hut for a man to sit in, with two wooden pieces on his head to headphones and bars of bamboo sticking out like antennas—he’s the controller—and they wait for the airplanes to land. They’re doing everything right. The form is perfect. It looks exactly the way it looked before. But it doesn’t work. No airplanes land. So I call these things cargo cult science, because they follow all the apparent precepts and forms of scientific investigation, but they’re missing something essential, because the planes don’t land.
With the above text, Richard Feynman gave rise in 1974 to the concept of cargo cult science: pseudoscience in which only the trappings of science are cultivated. He makes a beautiful point through it and you should read that speech of his, it’s really good. In today’s yoga class, as my mind strayed during a ridiculously protracted baloney preaching, I chanced upon an interesting twist to it.
First, let me confess that I fell in love with yoga since my first class. I love the elegance, the gracefulness, the relaxation, the concentration, the self-awareness, the girl in green (a classmate), the austerity (only your body and a towel), the small daily improvements, the personal challenge of the perfect asana, the beauty and harmony of many postures, the sensuality of some, the ascetism of others, the breathing, the exhilaration that follows a class. I’m painfully stiff but I know I will get better. I want to. But this love only makes me loathe more the other, dark side of yoga: the mystical b.s., the astrology/chakra/aura/spirit/numerology/energy mumbo-jumbo.
Today I endured a particularly severe sermon (~40 min.) in which almost every esoteric subject save alien abductions was broached. When I decided I had had enough—and, believe me, I can be patient when listening to cranks—I stood up and prepared to leave. The teacher understood, laughed somewhat sarcastically, and wrapped the class with the closing posture. I thanked her for the class and left.
I knew that yoga carried such baloney baggage before I entered, of course, but I enrolled despite it. As much as the pundits (yogis) say they’re an inseparable whole, they aren’t, and I’m only interested in the exercise, the secular part. The funny thought that crossed my mind today was that, in a way, what I want is a cargo cult yoga.
Platicaba antier con Adolfo en el Starbucks cerca del TEC y como enseguida tenia el una conferencia sobre la pobreza, decidi acompañarlo. Me dio mucho gusto ver que la conferencia la organizaba y conducia Lalo, uno de los mejores maestros de mi prepa, pero la conferencia en si fue perfectamente olvidable: los mismos lugares comunes de siempre, el mismo rollo, el mismo izquierdismo self-righteous, los mismos rezagos ancestrales, las mismas discusiones bizantinas (Cuantos tipos de pobreza hay? Son mejores los programas universalistas que los focalizados? Como definimos indigena? Cuantos angeles caben en la cabeza de un alfiler?).
En medio del choro mareador de uno de los ponentes oi la gastadisima frase “inequidad en la distribucion de la riqueza” y alguna minuscula sinapsis debio unir a dos neuronas olvidadas, pues vi de repente la concepcion (en mi opinion erronea) de la riqueza que esa oracion implicaba. Ya en mi casa repase los ensayos de Paul Graham y, efectivamente, es un ensayo suyo, Mind The Gap, el que maravillosamente desenmascara y desacredita esta concepcion (que el llama el Modelo Papi de la Riqueza):
When I was five I thought electricity was created by electric sockets. I didn’t realize there were power plants out there generating it. Likewise, it doesn’t occur to most kids that wealth is something that has to be generated. It seems to be something that flows from parents.
Because of the circumstances in which they encounter it, children tend to misunderstand wealth. They confuse it with money. They think that there is a fixed amount of it. And they think of it as something that’s distributed by authorities (and so should be distributed equally), rather than something that has to be created (and might be created unequally).
En fin, se lo comente a Adolfo (rayandole su cuaderno) y el me contesto con su ya famoso “Ashh…”©, pero aun asi me motivo a hacerles el comentario a los ponentes (darle valor a otra gente es la cosa mas facil del mundo). Cuando (dei gratia) acabo la conferencia y llego la hora de las preguntas, dije lo siguiente (o algo muy parecido, el original quedo escrito en la libreta de Adolfo):
Que tal Lalo? ... Bueno, lo mio no es una pregunta sino un comentario breve. Se me hace curioso, y es algo tipico de los academicos, la forma en que articulan su pensamiento sobre la pobreza. Dicen cosas como “la inequidad en la distribucion de la riqueza”, como si la riqueza fuera un pastel que le toca a papa gobierno distribuir, y nunca “inequidad en la generacion de riqueza”. Bueno… eso es todo. Sobretodo para… que lo piensen.
Silencio. Mi corazon golpeteaba y yo solo agradecia no haber tartamudeado severamente. Creo que oi un “Uhhhhhh” de “Tomen eso!” de alguien del auditorio. Adolfo dice que oyo un aplauso aislado. Mas silencio. Lalo interviene, levantando por fin su mirada de mi y llevandola al punto de fuga, “Alguien mas tiene otra pregunta?”.
This is most likely (very) old news for most but I just noticed that bracelets with tiny paintings of Catholic saints are starting to displace those livestrong bracelets as the reigning memetic wristband in Guadalajara.
(Thanks to Yema, the kind handmodel.)
Haciendo mandados, me toco platicar hoy con una señora que dirige un cibercafe mientras los dos haciamos fila. Le pregunte sobre su negocio y dos cosas me llamaron mucho la atencion. La primera es que un cibercafe gasta mas, mucho mas, en luz que en el internet mismo. Mientras que esta señora pagaba 650 pesos por internet al mes, la luz le salia de 2,600 a 3,000 pesos—casi 5 veces mas. Asi que lo que uno paga es mas bien la electricidad, no el internet. En vez de cibercafes deberian pues llamarlos electrocafes.
La otra cosa que me intereso fue que los cibercafes locales se aliaron para fijar el precio minimo por una hora de internet (12 pesos, si mal no recuerdo). Que, segun eso, a menos no les sale. Lo que no alcanzo a entender es porque necesitan imponer un precio minimo. Si alguien lo da a ese precio y no le sale, pues alla su problema si quiere regalar su dinero, no? Me recuerda una platica con un taxista que me decia que si no estuvieran restringidas las licencias para taxis, habria tanta competencia que ya para nadie saldria. Sera?
Bueno, hubo una cosa mas, una meta-cosa, que tambien me llamo la atencion en la platica: cuanto puede enseñarte una conversacion casual sobre esferas tan distantes a las tuyas.
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