The technology frontier has always been a turbulent place. Solyndra's failure should be no surprise or cause for alarm.
Without knowing the technological, financial, and political details of the Solyndra bankruptcy, I can't say what part -- supplier technology, company management, or political decisions -- failed, or whom (if anybody) we should blame. Given the FBI's recent seizure of documents, I'm sure we can look forward to thorough post-mortems.
The size of the loss was probably much greater than it had to be, but can big failures be avoided entirely in the high-tech industry? Perhaps our technological competition with China makes daunting goals and huge risks inevitable, as they were in America's hotter rivalry with the Soviet Union during the Cold War. The historian of technology Philip Scranton, my friend and colleague, has written about dauntingly chaotic process of developing jet aircraft:
Viewed from a distance, the development of jet propulsion in the US may appear to have been a chronicle of progress through skillful management of technology and organization. Examined closely, it stands rather as a shining example of non-linear, irrational, uncertain, multi-lateral, and profoundly passionate technological and business practice, yielding success not through planning but through dogged determination, a certain indifference to failure (which secrecy aided), and massive expenditures of public funds. Brunsson and Olsen were right. We have here business and public 'organizations [that were] conflictual, polycentric, and loosely coupled, rather than coherent, hierarchical and tightly coupled... coalitions living with unresolved conflict'.Their activity does not conform to standard rationality-centered thinking about the history and processes of business contracting, product innovation, military procurement, and technological development...
So many Cold War failures were secret, which is one reason for the persistence of UFO speculation. (Of course that doesn't mean that there weren't, or were, real extraterrestrial sightings.) Advanced green projects also call to mind peaceful development programs as well as arms races. In a famous paper, the great development economist Albert O. Hirschman outlined the principle of the Hiding Hand (a corollary to Adam Smith's Invisible Hand), according to which we undertake many ultimately successful ventures because we don't realize how difficult they'll be, yet once committed we find ways to make them work:
Creativity always comes as a surprise to us; therefore we can never count on it and we dare not believe in it until it has happened. In other words, we would not consciously engage upon tasks whose success clearly requires that creativity be forthcoming. Hence, the only way in which we can bring our creative resources fully into play is by misjudging the nature of the task, by presenting it to ourselves as more routine, simple, undemanding of genuine creativity than it will turn out to be.
I'm not suggesting complacency about Solyndra or any other high-tech failure, only care in drawing conclusions. In principle we glorify learning from failure and emerging stronger, but in practice we still recoil, and understandably so. In the 19th century, the failure of the original Panama Canal Company in 1889 devastated the reputation and fortune of France's greatest engineer, Ferdinand de Lesseps. Yet the project's many negative lessons helped make possible the even more ambitious American Panama Canal project. (It was also an energy project, with an eye toward more secure and efficient transportation of California petroleum to the East Coast. I've written about it here.) Of course, since President Obama was ready to take credit for a successful Solyndra, he can't avoid blame. But the real point should be not partisan advantage for either side but a better understanding of the future of a still-challenging technology at a frontier that can't be managed.
Edward Tenner is a historian of technology and culture, and an affiliate of the Center for Arts and Cultural Policy at Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School. He was a founding advisor of Smithsonian's Lemelson Center.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in Obergefell v. Hodgeswill shift the debate over gay-marriage debate from a legal fight to a cultural and religious conflict.
God appears exactly twice in the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, which held that gay marriage is a constitutional right in America. Both mentions come in Clarence Thomas’s dissent to the majority opinion: Once, he cites the 1754 writings of the English churchmanThomas Rutherforth, who argued that the only restraints on liberty are “the law of nature, and the law of God.” Toward the end, he also quotes the Declaration of Independence, noting that the Framers established their vision of rights based on the dignity bestowed upon them by their Creator.
God probably deserved a little more credit than he received in the footnotes of the case’s four dissents, also authored by Samuel Alito, John Roberts, and Antonin Scalia. In their own ways, each of the justices defended the “traditional” definition of marriage—or, in less veiled language, a certain Judeo-Christian understanding of marriage as an institution created and commanded by God.
The social network learns more about its users than they might realize.
Facebook, you may have noticed, turned into a rainbow-drenched spectacle following the Supreme Court’s decision Friday that same-sex marriage is a Constitutional right.
By overlaying their profile photos with a rainbow filter, Facebook users began celebrating in a way we haven't seen since March 2013, when 3 million peoplechanged their profile images to a red equals sign—the logo of the Human Rights Campaign—as a way to support marriage equality. This time, Facebook provided a simple way to turn profile photos rainbow-colored. More than 1 million people changed their profile in the first few hours, according to the Facebook spokesperson William Nevius, and the number continues to grow.
“This is probably a Facebook experiment!” joked the MIT network scientist Cesar Hidalgo on Facebook yesterday. “This is one Facebook study I want to be included in!” wrote Stacy Blasiola, a communications Ph.D. candidate at the University of Illinois, when she changed her profile.
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.
Was the Concorde a triumph of modern engineering, a metaphor for misplaced 20th-century values, or both?
The box sat untouched in his bottom desk drawer. For weeks we discussed opening it, and one January morning he was ready. I set the box on his white bedsheets and removed the stack of passports, which could have belonged to a family with dual citizenship. But all nine—from 1956 to a valid update issued in 2014—belong to my 89-year-old grandfather.
Lying in bed, he unfolded a stamp-covered page like an accordion and held it open above his chest. “Oh my,” he kept repeating. He paused, and pointed.
London. March 22, 1976. My then-50-year-old grandfather, Raymond Pearlson, the inventor ofSyncrolift, was traveling the world selling his shiplift system. Concorde had launched commercially that January. He knew exactly what this stamp represented: Washington Dulles to London Heathrow in 3.5 hours—the first of at least 150 supersonic flights he took on the legendary aircraft.