You plan to grill steaks for yourself, spouse, and kid. Each steak takes 15
minutes per side. Your grill has space for two steaks at a time. How long until
the three of you can sit down to dinner together?
The obvious answer is an hour. First, you grill two of the steaks. At 15
minutes per side, that takes half an hour. Then you grill the third steak.
Another 30 minutes. In all, an hour.
Can you do better?
Sure you can.
Start as you did before, by grilling two steaks simultaneously. But this time, after 15 minutes, do something different: flip one steak (let's call it steak #1), set the other steak aside on a plate, and put steak #3 on the grill. After another 15 minutes, steak #1 is done, plate it. Flip steak #3 and grill that along with steak #2 (uncooked side down). In 15 minutes, all three steaks are done. Total turnaround time? 45 minutes. A 25% improvement over the obvious solution.
Now, there are no tricks involved. The first procedure, which takes an hour, has the following steps:
Steak1.side1 and Steak2.side1 ...cook 15 minutes... Steak1.side2 and Steak3.side1 ...cook 15 minutes... Steak2.side2 and Steak3.side2
...cook 15 minutes...
The second procedure is faster because it involves only three stages instead of four. Now, let's ask: Can you do better than 45 minutes?
You cannot and here's why: The meat needs a total of 90 minutes on the fire (3 steaks times 2 sides each times 15 minutes per side). At most, two steaks can be cooked simultaneously. So the best possible turnaround time is 45 minutes (90 minutes divided into 2).
The two-step described above -- finding a better way and showing that it is the best possible -- lies at the core of a discipline called Operations Research, or OR.
The OR expert straddles business, information technology (IT), and the mathematics sciences. The business world is rich in process environments whose efficiency may be profitably improved. The OR expert transforms the "problem" into models and algorithms that can be programmed on computers to yield usable results. (In our example, we went from the world of backyard grilling to into the abstraction of sequencing "operations".) This process, as much art as science, often needs a judicious synthesis of tools from mathematics, computer science, and statistics.
Our lives are improved by OR every day. To highlight a few examples, using OR,
Utilities generate electricity inexpensively and deliver it reliably to your home,
The postal service and express shippers optimize deliveries and pick-ups on the fly, and
Retailers decide how much of each item to stock, how to price it, and where to display it.
Admiral Mike McMullen, America's current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, has often mentioned the importance of his OR background. (Here Adm. McMullen talks about how OR influences his world-view. Note for hard-core Fallows fans: He even mentions China!)
Yet, mentions of OR in the popular press are few and far between. Worse yet, popular media articles covering OR manage to avoid mentioning OR entirely! This points to a severe problem for the profession, which I will take up in a later post.
James Fallows is a national correspondent for The Atlantic and has written for the magazine since the late 1970s. He has reported extensively from outside the United States and once worked as President Carter's chief speechwriter. His latest book is China Airborne.
Mike Huckabee and Ted Cruz are suggesting there might be ways for states and cities to nullify the justices’ ruling. They’re wrong.
The Supreme Court’s decision last week did make gay marriage legal around the nation. Unfortunately for social conservatives, it did not, however, make nullification legal around the nation.
Nullification is the historical idea that states can ignore federal laws, or pass laws that supercede them. This concept has a long but not especially honorable pedigree in U.S. history. Its origins date back to antebellum America, where Southern states tried to nullify tariffs and Northern states tried to nullify fugitive-slave laws. In the 1950s, after Brown v. Board of Education, some Southern states tried to pass laws to avoid integrating schools. It didn’t work, because nullification is not constitutional.
I spent a year in Tromsø, Norway, where the “Polar Night” lasts all winter—and where rates of seasonal depression are remarkably low. Here’s what I learned about happiness and the wintertime blues.
Located over 200 miles north of the Arctic Circle, Tromsø, Norway, is home to extreme light variation between seasons. During the Polar Night, which lasts from November to January, the sun doesn’t rise at all. Then the days get progressively longer until the Midnight Sun period, from May to July, when it never sets. After the midnight sun, the days get shorter and shorter again until the Polar Night, and the yearly cycle repeats.
So, perhaps understandably, many people had a hard time relating when I told them I was moving there.
“I could never live there,” was the most common response I heard. “That winter would make me so depressed,” many added, or “I just get so tired when it’s dark out.”
But the Polar Night was what drew me to Tromsø in the first place.
As he prepares for a presidential run, the governor’s labor legacy deserves inspection. Are his state’s “hardworking taxpayers” any better off?
This past February, at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) outside Washington, D.C., Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker rolled up his sleeves, clipped on a lavalier microphone, and without the aid of a teleprompter gave the speech of his life. He emerged from that early GOP cattle call as a front-runner for his party’s nomination for president. Numerous polls this spring placed him several points ahead of former Florida Governor Jeb Bush, the preferred candidate of the Republican establishment, in Iowa and New Hampshire. Those same polls showed him with an even more substantial lead over movement conservative favorites such as Ted Cruz, Rand Paul, and Mike Huckabee. In late April, the Koch brothers hinted that Walker would be the likely recipient of the nearly $900 million they plan to spend on the 2016 election cycle.
People labeled “smart” at a young age don’t deal well with being wrong. Life grows stagnant.
At whatever agesmart people develop the idea that they are smart, they also tend to develop vulnerability around relinquishing that label. So the difference between telling a kid “You did a great job” and “You are smart” isn’t subtle. That is, at least, according to one growing movement in education and parenting that advocates for retirement of “the S word.”
The idea is that when we praise kids for being smart, those kids think: Oh good, I'm smart. And then later, when those kids mess up, which they will, they think: Oh no, I'm not smart after all. People will think I’m not smart after all. And that’s the worst. That’s a risk to avoid, they learn.“Smart” kids stand to become especially averse to making mistakes, which are critical to learning and succeeding.
In 1908, photographer Lewis Hine traveled across the U.S. to document child laborers and their workplaces. His portraits were used by reformers to drive legislation that would protect young workers or prohibit their employment.
At the start of the 20th century, labor in America was in short supply, and laws concerning the employment of children were rarely enforced or nonexistent. While Americans at the time supported the role of children working on family farms, there was little awareness of the other forms of labor being undertaken by young hands. In 1908, photographer Lewis Hine was employed by the newly-founded National Child Labor Committee (NCLC) to document child laborers and their workplaces nationwide. His well-made portraits of young miners, mill workers, cotton pickers, cigar rollers, newsboys, pin boys, oyster shuckers, and factory workers put faces on the issue, and were used by reformers to raise awareness and drive legislation that would protect young workers or prohibit their employment. After several stalled attempts in congress, the NCLC-backed Fair Labor Standards Act passed in 1938 with child labor provisions that remain the law of the land today, barring the employment of anyone under the age of 16.
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
The untold story of the improbable campaign that finally tipped the U.S. Supreme Court.
On May 18, 1970, Jack Baker and Michael McConnell walked into a courthouse in Minneapolis, paid $10, and applied for a marriage license. The county clerk, Gerald Nelson, refused to give it to them. Obviously, he told them, marriage was for people of the opposite sex; it was silly to think otherwise.
Baker, a law student, didn’t agree. He and McConnell, a librarian, had met at a Halloween party in Oklahoma in 1966, shortly after Baker was pushed out of the Air Force for his sexuality. From the beginning, the men were committed to one another. In 1967, Baker proposed that they move in together. McConnell replied that he wanted to get married—really, legally married. The idea struck even Baker as odd at first, but he promised to find a way and decided to go to law school to figure it out.
This week, there were fires in at least six predominantly African American churches. Arson at religious institutions has decreased significantly over the past two decades, but the symbolism remains haunting.
Updated on July 1, 11:50 a.m. ET
On Wednesday, July 1, a fire was reported at the Mount Zion African Methodist Episcopal Church in Greeleyville, South Carolina. The AP reports that an anonymous federal official said the fire did not appear to be intentionally set, but Winfred Pressley, a division operations officer at the regional Alcohol, Firearms, and Tobacco division, said that the investigation is still ongoing, as did other local investigators. Shanna Daniels, a spokesperson for the FBI, declined to comment on the case, but said that church arson “has been a hot topic over the past few days.”
“What's the church doing on fire?”
Jeanette Dudley, the associate pastor of God's Power Church of Christ in Macon, Georgia, got a call a little after 5 a.m. on Wednesday, June 24, she told a local TV news station. Her tiny church of about a dozen members had been burned, probably beyond repair. The Bureau of Alcohol, Firearms, and Tobacco got called in, which has been the standard procedure for church fires since the late 1960s. Investigators say they’ve ruled out possible causes like an electrical malfunction; most likely, this was arson.
For centuries, experts have predicted that machines would make workers obsolete. That moment may finally be arriving. Could that be a good thing?
1. Youngstown, U.S.A.
The end of work is still just a futuristic concept for most of the United States, but it is something like a moment in history for Youngstown, Ohio, one its residents can cite with precision: September 19, 1977.
For much of the 20th century, Youngstown’s steel mills delivered such great prosperity that the city was a model of the American dream, boasting a median income and a homeownership rate that were among the nation’s highest. But as manufacturing shifted abroad after World War II, Youngstown steel suffered, and on that gray September afternoon in 1977, Youngstown Sheet and Tube announced the shuttering of its Campbell Works mill. Within five years, the city lost 50,000 jobs and $1.3 billion in manufacturing wages. The effect was so severe that a term was coined to describe the fallout: regional depression.
Many authors have been tempted into writing revisionist histories of the 37th U.S. president, but these counterintuitive takes often do not hold up under closer scrutiny.
Every once in a while someone writes a book arguing that Richard Nixon has been misunderstood. These authors tend to focus on some particular aspect of his presidency that, the argument goes, is more important than that Watergate business. They’ve focused on his domestic policy or his foreign policy as achievements that override his flaws and his presidency’s denouement. Nixon’s highly complex persona also has led to books that probe his psyche—a hazardous and widely debunked practice, though that hasn’t discouraged further attempts.
And, as with other major figures, but all the more so given the drama of his time on the national stage, Nixon’s complexity and essentially low repute tempts some authors to offer revisionist approaches to his place in history. Such approaches have to be assessed on their own merits, not accepted merely because they’re counterintuitive or receive a lot of attention, as new assessments of the controversial and fascinating Nixon tend to do. Two major revisionist books about Nixon argued that his domestic policy was so expansive, humane, and innovative that it overrides his unfortunate behavior; their accounts relegate Watergate to a far less important role. The problem with these books is that they don’t stand up to close scrutiny.