Do city-dwellers hold the keys to true happiness?

Hong Kong

This past week, I’ve immersed myself in Harvard Economics Professor Edward Glaeser’s Triumph of the City. Compared to my customary leisure reads (Tina Fey’s Bossypants, anyone?), Glaeser’s book, which incorporates historical fact, urban economics principles, and global research study findings to argue that urban cities “are actually the healthiest, greenest, and richest (in both cultural and economic terms) places to live,” is somewhat of an intellectual upgrade for me.

Before you metaphorically pat me on the back for my efforts, though, I want to make the stakes known.

I’m a mere 45 pages into the book. (The entire work is a hefty 270 pages, for those who wish to gauge my turtle-paced progress.) Regardless, I already sense that I’m starting to develop a clear understanding of how the next 200-odd pages will pan out. Here’s to hoping Glaeser proves me wrong by doling out some shocking, unexpected arguments in the chapters to come.

But first, some thoughts.

Taipei, Taiwan

Beginning from the book’s introduction, Glaeser touts the merits of urban development… and continues to do so page after page. Without completely discrediting Glaeser, who is obviously a well-learned guy who supplements each of his points with research findings and historical fact, I admit that I picked up this book with the expectation of learning about the history of major cities, the logistics and intricacies of urban development, and the ways in which cities thrive and fail; and though Glaeser covers all of these points, I find his constant praise for city-living somewhat distracting.

To elaborate on my point, the following excerpt from page 7 of Glaeser’s work reads as follows:

There is a myth that even if cities enhance prosperity, they will make people miserable. But people report being happier in those countries that are more urban. In those countries where more than half of the population is urban, 30 percent of people say they are very happy and 17 percent say they are not very or not at all happy. [...] Across countries, reported life satisfaction rises with the share of the population that lives in cities, even when controlling for the countries’ income and education.

For reasons I can’t quite place my finger on, I feel uneasy and unconvinced even after Glaeser lays down the statistics. Do these figures really prove that cities result in happier citizens, or is there another factor that is also directly correlated to these populations’ reported happiness levels, such as GDP levels, employment rates, or wealth distribution?

Bangkok, Thailand

In a quest to set the facts straight for myself, I ran a quick Google search on the subject. Here’s what I found:

• The Atlantic‘s Kaid Benfield takes a close look at the same subject in his piece, “Do Cities Really Make Us Happier?” Benfield suggests that “some of the qualities associated with great urbanism–good public transit; easy access to cultural activities, recreation and shops; connectedness–are associated positively with human happiness,” an idea which he elaborates at length on in an earlier piece.
• Statistics from the General Social Survey, a collection of social data collected regularly since 1972, states that between 1972 and 2008, “happiness has been lowest in the nation’s largest cities and has consistently been at its highest levels in small towns and rural areas.”
• To make matters even more ambiguous and confusing, critics have been engaging in an ongoing debate over the best ways to effectively measure happiness, which is a largely subjective emotion. Disagreements over the most accurate methods to study happiness levels could even make some happiness-related findings completely obsolete.

Even as a self-professed city girl who dropped everything to move from the easy, warm suburbs of Orange County, CA, to foggy San Francisco, I find it very difficult to believe that cities are the answer to an entire nation’s collective happiness.

I don’t claim to know the answer to this question, but if there’s one thing I learned from my time as an English major and a global equities research analyst, it is that the best arguments are backed by logic, which is backed by research findings and cold, hard statistics; and the best researchers not only understand this, they also own their right to use factual truths to illustrate some all-encompassing story that points to a single, self-formulated conclusion. In essence, researchers are fact scavengers, persuaders of reason, and storytellers in their own right. It is thusly that I also assert that one cannot possibly expect a single work or study to contain all the answers. It is both our duty and our right as truth-seekers to read between the lines, and, like the very researchers who wrote the works we consult for our own learning, to pick theories apart, dissect study findings, and piece together our own stories which incorporate ideas we’ve picked up along the way.

London, UK

With that said, I present my story regarding cities and happiness levels:

Well-developed, affordable urban cities have much to offer its inhabitants, including a heightened sense of physical connectedness to other demographic groups; proximity to shops, eateries, and recreational activities; and public transit for easier commutes. Urban cities attract large populations of young, single professionals with disposable incomes, ambitions to climb the career ladder, and a desire to socialize and network with other professionals in their age groups. Because of this, city dwellers often log longer work hours because they are generally unmarried, seeking promotions at work to save up for the future, and influenced by their same-aged peers who also happen to be in similar scenarios.

The belief that urban cities promote happiness is a narrow, unprovable assumption. Starry-eyed, ambitious populations may flock to their hometown’s urban counterparts with inebriating dreams of glamorous city-living or hopes of a brighter economic future, but happiness ultimately can’t be sustained solely by one’s dwelling place. To even argue that urbanites live happier lives is to undermine the sacrifices city-dwellers make to live in such high-in-demand cities as New York City–the high rent costs, the lack of personal physical space, the perpetually crowded streets and sidewalks, the close proximity to violent crime and high-risk neighborhoods.

City living isn’t the sole indicator of happiness levels. It may be a contributor for some, but it is never the be-all and end-all. 

Paris, France

Readers, what do you think? Is Glaeser’s argument that urban living is directly correlated to happiness valid? And if so, how can we improve upon and redesign our existing urban cities to further promote a better quality of living for its residents?

“hay, where can I git sum edumacation?”

Before I say anything else, I want to apologize firstly for my long lapse in blogging. My transition home has been nothing short of smooth and blissful, though my mind is often preoccupied with such pivotal questions as, “What’s my next step?” and “What do I really want to do with my life?” But I’ll save the quarter-life, post-graduate musings for a later day. First things first:

Last week, I received the latest issue of TIME in the mail. If you’re curious, it looks like this:

I’m unemployed at the moment, so as you can guess, this is just one of the several questions that has been bubbling and brewing in my mind lately. On a broader scale, I think it’s safe to say that the global financial crisis and its after-effects have diluted our visions of the American Dream. Despite the importance of recognizing our current situation, though, I believe the call to understand the circumstances that set the stage for our current predicament rings even louder. How can we possibly begin to piece together a more opportunistic, brighter future for America without first pinpointing and patching up the potholes we’ve dug for ourselves along the way?

One editorial piece in this issue, written by Fareed Zakaria and titled “When Will We Learn?”, attributes the gradual decomposition of the American Dream to deep-rooted, long-running failures in the public education system.

Zakaria introduces his argument with the modern day paragon of the American Dream, Steve Jobs. Most of us credit natural talent, vision, and charisma to much of Jobs’ success, but Zakaria takes it a step further and points out that Jobs graduated from a high school in Cupertino, CA, in the seventies, when “California’s public schools were the envy of all the world.” In fact, Jobs met Apple’s co-founder, Steve Wozniak, there. According to Zakaria, the California public school system “gave [students like Jobs and Wozniak] an educational grounding that helped them rise.”

With that, I have to wonder what kind of solid evidence aside from the knowledge that Jobs and Wozniak graduated from a high school in California in the 1970′s exists to prove that public education played a monumental, decisive role in the shaping of these two inventors and the future they went on to carve out for Apple. Because frankly, Jobs continued his education only to drop out after his first semester of college because he found his courses boring and irrelevant. Can we call that a triumph for the longstanding American institute of higher education?

All notions aside, though Zakaria may or may not been overreaching with the Jobs and Wozniak analogy, he still brings up some great points in his piece about the shortcomings of modern American education in comparison to our global counterparts.

For starters, Zakaria proposes two solutions to the education endemic–work harder (and longer) and hire better educators.

(It sounds a lot simpler on paper than it is to actually carry out, I presume.)

To elaborate on Zakaria’s suggested solutions, he presents the case of Asia’s work ethic by comparing the average American student’s hours spent in school to that of a South Korean student. Calculations show that the average South Korean high school senior has spent up to two years more in school than his American counterpart, which, Zakaria argues, results in higher standardized test scores.

Zakaria’s logic makes sense to me; but there is, of course, another side to the story. I have several friends who have spent a year or more in South Korea teaching English at after-school tutoring academies because, no, nine-hour schooldays are simply not enough in Asia–the studying continues after-hours. An overwhelming majority of these after-school teachers report that their South Korean students are generally overworked, unexcited to learn, and more inclined to trite memorization than independent problem solving.

Yes, it’s no secret that students in East Asia work hard, for the most part, but I wouldn’t go so far as to declare that their education system is necessarily better. It’s just different. 

On the flip side, Western education generally hones in on creativity and problem solving, and here’s where Zakaria’s piece gets really compelling, in my opinion. He brings up Finland, a Western nation that tied with Denmark, Australia, and New Zealand for first place on the Education Index in 2008. Interestingly, the Finnish education curriculum emphasizes creativity over test-taking, which sets it apart from South Korea, another highly ranked country. And get this: Finnish teachers, after being selected and trained through a competitive, rigorous process, are afforded decent wages and treated with the same respect as doctors and lawyers.

Therein lies the secret sauce–great, qualified educators. 

And here, Zakaria suggests, is where we fall short.

In stark contrast to Finland, where all teachers are required to have master’s degrees, about half of America’s teachers graduated in the bottom third of their college class.

Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing but respect for America’s educators. But let’s be real here: American education as a whole simply isn’t getting all the respect it deserves. Why do we as a society insist on paying our teachers low wages, neglect issues such as school funding, and then shake our heads and wonder why our education system is deteriorating?

To make matters worse, the American public education system is so steeped in tradition (e.g. teachers’ unions that aim to protect the status quo) that reconstructing the hiring and development process for teachers appears nearly impossible at this point. Even if it were somehow possible to give American education a facelift, getting the funding to make it all happen is another story in and of itself.

So what’s the silver lining, Zakaria?

“You can get excited by the meta-reformers on the outside who are trying to revolutionize the system,” he writes.

One example he cites is Sal Khan, the creator of Khan Academy. For brevity’s sake, I won’t explain the backstory behind the organization (Google it if you must), but I will say this: I watched Khan’s finance tutorials in Taiwan during my first few months of work when I was still learning the ropes, and they were brilliant.

Another example (not mentioned by Zakaria, but I have to bring it up while I’m on this topic) is Skillshare. They’re a community-based marketplace for classes; in essence, they’re crowdsourcing education by recruiting ordinary people to design and teach classes based on their area of expertise.

Khan Academy and Skillshare are testaments to the role technology can–and has–played in making education widely accessible.

I believe that America is, inevitably, shifting towards a free-for-all educational system, one that enables and advocates for independent learning and community-driven support. And if the traditional public education system doesn’t get its act together soon, it may very well be left in the dust.

Yes, I know that’s an audacious statement to make. But perhaps our education system needs a louder, bolder call to action.

Maybe, just maybe, then we will finally start to wake up.

And, staying true to habit, I close this post with yet more questions:

• Where did the American education system go wrong?
• How can we reform the hiring process to ensure that teachers are well-trained, qualified, and prepared to enter the field?
• And last but not least, how can we, as a society, reinvigorate our zeal to learn and rekindle our reverence for education?

Has hard work become an exotic concept?

A few weeks back, I came across an NY Times piece that basically expounds the innovation-driven, creativity-centric values that encapsulate Steve Jobs’ life and career and brands America as the all-encompassing hub for such risk-taking pioneers. I already wrote an entire post about Jobs’ ideologies, but I have to comment on them again, perhaps because they strike such a deep, personal chord in me.

Before I delve into personal technicalities, though, the piece I’m discussing, appropriately titled Reaping the Rewards of Risk-Taking, classifies Jobs as the vanguard of innovative thought, experimentation, and so-called “recombinant mash-ups,” or disruptive products that blend perspectives from different disciplines. According to writer Steve Lohr, at the core of all this creating and revolutionizing are the tried and true American values of pioneering, innovating, and risk-taking; and it is, in fact, these very principles that put our nation at a competitive advantage to other countries, even despite the latter’s heavy government financing for scientific research and educational achievements in science and technology. Going along those lines, businesses like Apple, who are credited with revolutionizing the computing and electronics sectors, generally trade at higher valuations on the stock market because they enjoy what is called an “innovation premium.”

In other words, it’s the truly innovative businesses that are the game-changers. And being a game-changer brings in serious dough–and power.

Now, you’re probably wondering why this all matters to me as an individual aside from the knowledge that 1.) I’m a huge admirer of Jobs, and 2.) I’m all about creativity and risk-taking. 

Well, once upon a time (two weeks ago, to be exact), I lived and worked in Asia. It was a unique, eye-opening experience that I’ll never quite be able to put into words and all that other jazz that you hear from everyone else who’s lived abroad, but the reason I bring this up is because I’ve seen firsthand the cultural disparities that underlie Western and Eastern societies. The West champions its free-spirited, individualistic culture, while the East generally values discipline, respect for authority, and academic excellence. In this respect, a Westerner might look at an Asian and label him as rigid and self-deprecating, and an Asian may view his Western counterparts as undisciplined and disrespectful.

I won’t take sides, but I will say that as a born and raised American, my time in Asia has allowed me to better understand how the Eastern side of the world thinks and operates. Thus, speaking solely from sheer observation alone, I believe that Lohr’s article, though compelling, presents a one-sided, ethnocentric perspective that completely ignores the strengths of other cultures, particularly those of the East.

To elaborate on this point, I have seen a handful of Americans in my age group with lofty, elaborate dreams of pursuing their passions eventually settle into dry, unfulfilling jobs. Off the top of my head, I can cite a number of reasons for this phenomenon–lack of drive, personal insecurities, to name a couple–but I believe that at the root of it all is an unwillingness to work hard, to exercise discipline, and to suffer a bit in order to reap the future rewards. And while I advocate strongly for the mantras of our generation that egg us on to pursue our passions, I believe that these adages need to come with a forewarning–something along the lines of, “Go hard after your dreams–but be dang well prepared to work your butt off for them and encounter some setbacks along the way. THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.“

The truth of the matter is, taking risks is exponentially tougher than simply going after what’s safe and socially accepted. In this respect, taking risks requires hard work and discipline, virtues that Eastern societies hone in on. Sure, Jobs dropped out of college after his first semester and spent some time traveling India, which is awesome and all, but he also slept on the floors of his friends’ dorm rooms and went to a local temple every week to partake in a free meal. Oh, not to mention that he started Apple in his parents’ garage and spent ten years building it into a multi-million dollar business. If that doesn’t sound arduous and even a bit unsexy, then I don’t know what is.

With that said, I’ve encountered and worked alongside multitudes of bright, hardworking individuals during my time in Asia. The work ethic is so strong there, it almost puts our good ol’ American working middle-class values to shame. However, what I also witnessed in Asia was an unquestioning and borderline passive stance towards societal norms. Nearly every time I thought to challenge authority in some way shape or form, my remarks were almost always met with an all-too-accepting “that’s just the way things are.”

On the flip side, Americans are great at questioning the status quo, engineering new ideas, and standing up for their opinions and beliefs. It is, essentially, this flourishing spirit of creativity and outside-the-box thinking that attracted me back home. Nonetheless, aside from our dedication to individualism and appetite for creativity, I worry that a good number of my fellow Gen Y-ers simply cower in fear at the prospect of being challenged and stretched beyond their perceived means. It is this distaste towards discomfort that paralyzes us and puts us as a competitive disadvantage on the global scoreboard.

Therefore, I’d like to expand on Lohr’s points and argue that while America is a unique, vibrant nation with a strong knack for creativity, we should never allow ourselves to get away with believing that our school of thought is superior to any other culture’s. Instead, we should be utilizing our resources to continuously seek out new ways to grow, to adapt to our increasingly globally-connected world, and to broaden our perspectives. Like Jobs instructs, it is our duty as a nation that fosters innovation to cultivate an environment that rewards curiosity and open-mindedness.

And that, my friends, takes some hard, unadulterated work.

What do you think? Do you agree that our current and future generations would be better off finding and achieving a delicate balance between Western ideals of personal freedom and creativity and Eastern morals of discipline and respect, or am I way over my head with this one?

Steve speaks, and the world halts.

At 6:42 this morning, in a half-conscious stupor, I checked my Twitter feed. My eyes jerked open at the headlines:

Steve Jobs resigns as CEO of Apple.

Though the general public has known of his ailing health condition for some time now and expected the scenario to unfold like so, I don’t believe anyone was exactly prepared for the actual announcement when it actually happened. In disbelief, I even double-checked my sources to verify that it wasn’t just some lame, sick joke.

After reality finally sank in, the instinctual reaction that followed snapped me to the realization that I’ve seriously been working in finance for too long. At the wake of a pivotal moment in tech history, I wondered,

Did Jobs specifically choose to leave at this moment because he sees something that most people don’t: that is, that Apple has hit its peak and, with the weakened global economy, will probably never again be able to maintain the same top line growth that it has been consistently pushing for the past several years now?

To be fair, Jobs is a phenomenal leader and I’m sure his health, above anything else, was the main determining factor behind his resignation. If you want my financial opinion, investors will panic and sell off their AAPL shares (naturally), but in the short-to-medium term I don’t see Jobs’ absence as a major loss to the company’s success. The iPhone 5 and iPad 3 are still scheduled to roll out later this year–of course consumers will eat that up–and Apple still has the same workforce of talented, creative, design-savvy executives, engineers and developers that Jobs helped recruit and attract during his stint as CEO. In the long term, however, it is tough to say–although my sentiments are more bearish. If the Apple momentum fades, the company could lose some of its top talent to competitors, and then… well, it’s all downhill from there. I just haven’t heard word of anyone at Apple–or in the world, for that matter–with Jobs’ charisma and vision. He was, essentially, the driving force behind the company’s formidable success.

(Edit: To counter my predictions, I came across this extremely compelling and convincing piece in The Harvard Business Review that argues that Jobs has so successfully and seamlessly reworked the Apple culture that the company doesn’t even need him anymore–similar to what Pixar is today. Thoughts? Feel free to comment below!)

But if you want my human opinion, Jobs is a visionary genius and his resignation is felt two-fold: we mourn that the tech world must bid farewell to one of the most pivotal eras of its history, and yet we look ahead in anticipation and wonder. In fact, now that I’m done talking finance, I get to get into the real good stuff–the sentimental, tear-jerking cheese-ball Steve Jobs quotes. The Wall Street Journal was great enough to compile an entire collection of them dating back to the 80′s, and I ate it up. 

One particular piece made me literally tear right in my office cubicle (it was lunch break, and thank goodness my coworkers take naps at lunch.) It was Jobs’ Stanford commencement speech, delivered on June 12, 2005. In an emotional high, I even e-mailed the piece to my friends, because I think Jobs’ words embody the truth that our generation needs to hear and live out. I urge everyone to read the entire speech before I close with this nugget of wisdom from the man himself:

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

The markets are tough, the future seems hazy, but may nothing stop us from staying hungry and foolish.

If YouTube & karaoke had a baby, would it be Singboard?

Last week, my boyfriend e-mailed me with some great news:

“I’m going to San Francisco tomorrow on business!”

I suppose one of the perks of being a freshly minted member of the full-time workforce is the inevitable excitement that comes hand-in-hand with the first business trip. To say we were thrilled is an understatement: I practically threw a party right then and there by myself in my office cubicle. It was 7:40 in the morning.

Soon enough, I discovered that the b-friend was attending 500 Startups’ Demo Day. He met loads of intelligent, passionate people, pitched his company’s product to a few VCs, saw some phenomenal pitches, and returned with a handful of stories to share.

“Emma, these founders are all about 21 years old or younger. Everyone’s so talented and smart, but they all help each other out. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I couldn’t fathom it.

So in true Research Analyst fashion, I set out to see for myself what the heck the deal was with these underaged start-up founders and their big ideas.

One Google search and a couple hours later, I found Singboard. Well okay, that’s only a half-truth: I’d already seen all the Twitter buzz going around about their pitch the prior day and read some stories about the event. Watching the live video feed, however, made me believe all the hype: the pitch was well-executed, convincing, and funny. The last part mesmerizes me because 1.) these guys are from Asia, and hey! I live in Asia, and 2.) Asians don’t generally specialize in or understand deadpan humor.

Take a look at this.
(Due to WordPress’s security restrictions, I wasn’t able to embed the video directly into this post–very weird, in my opinion.)

Ray Chan is a master. I’d love to be his apprentice and learn the art of pitching from him.

On another note, though, I’ve also been pondering over Singboard’s business model and execution plan, which is pretty ambiguous at the moment since the start-up is still approaching its private beta stage. Per usual, I wrote up a list of questions that sprang up along the way:

1. Karaoke has a longstanding tradition of being a group activity. Even though Singboard allows users to compete with their friends online (bridging the “group” aspect), how will it go about convincing people that the karaoke experience can exist beyond karaoke rooms/bars and in-home karaoke systems?
2. Would Singboard ever consider selling the rights to its product to karaoke bars? Is that even legally feasible if it’s streaming the content directly from YouTube?
3. Considering the fact that Singboard hopes to generate its revenues through online ads and a $4.99 monthly premium subscription and paid mobile app, how will it entice users to dish out money for the premium subscription and app? (You gotta be pretty dang serious about your karaoke to pay for that!)

Going even further on that thought, my overactive imagination also conjured up a low budget, three-point early stage marketing plan for the start-up:

1. Target college students by recruiting volunteer campus ambassadors. At my former college, there was a popular, outdoors relax-and-hang-out area called the Student Center. I envision Singboard utilizing such spaces as these that centralize on social interaction to set up a few “Singboard stations” (i.e. a laptop with the browser opened to their page) for students to try out the product with their friends. After singing a song or two, students can choose to 1.) save their video for themselves, 2.) share the video via Facebook, Twitter, or other social media outlets, and/or 3.) enter themselves into an on-campus karaoke contest (winners get free Singboard t-shirts!) This way, the product gets early exposure among college students, which I expect will be its main user base anyways, at very little cost. I’d also make an effort to connect with particularly inquisitive and enthusiastic early-adopter users and propose a potential Singboard campus ambassador opportunity for them. Basically, the campus ambassador’s role will be to tout Singboard’s merits to his or her friends; in exchange, Singboard mentors its ambassadors on how to pitch a product, gives them firsthand exposure to its business, which could take off in the future, and grants them free access to monthly premium subscriptions and mobile app downloads.
2. Engage the YouTube community. With the advent of YouTube personalities, artists, and comedians gaining media coverage and exercising influence among diverse audience groups, Singboard could run a search to find out who’s who’s in the YouTube sphere and target these individuals by inviting them to try out the product and offering them free monthly premium subscription and mobile app downloads in exchange for v-blogging about and/or using Singboard.
3. Plan awesome, nostalgia-inducing Singboard events at local bars and pubs. Similar to the earlier idea of engaging early-adopter users through interactive “Singboard stations” on college campuses, I’d arrange a few local MeetUps centered around grub, drinks, karaoke, and fun. The whole premise of the event would be to create an epic, memorable experience for potential users that will spark a desire to re-create the same experience on a later day and use the product over, and over… and over, again.

What do you think? Will Singboard succeed in de-cheesifying the online karaoke experience?

Are geeks and hackers the Caesars and Aeneas of the modern day?

I’m fascinated with stories. I believe there is something mystical and inherently human about yearning to experience and comprehend the world through narratives that too many are quick to neglect. I often wonder how profound my interactions would be if I always took the time to understand the stories behind others’ motivations and individual pasts, or how passionate the world would be if everyone lived their lives as if they were the star protagonist of an epic adventure story.

All abstractions aside though, I stumbled upon this long form piece in The New Yorker from September 2010 chronicling Mark Zuckerberg’s ascent from programming child prodigy to, well, a global giant that incites fear and rivalry among top executives at big-name Internet businesses like Google and LinkedIn and perhaps more notably, the government of China. I know I’ve written about Facebook already, but I don’t think stories about “the real face behind Facebook” will ever cease to intrigue me. Again, I’m all for the stories.

To Zuckerberg’s credit though, the press generally (and unfairly, in my opinion) depicts him as a stoic, socially awkward, quintessential “computer geek,” for lack of better wording, who seriously lacks in the likability capacity. Going off that thought, the Hollywood Blockbuster The Social Network springs to mind–which in fact, the article cites as one of the harshest critiques of Zuckerberg yet. I loved the film, if not only for its entertainment value, but I can’t help but think sometimes that the media just wants to have a field day and reinforce societal perceptions about coders and programmers as socially impaired, emotionally distant cogs, so to speak. Zuckerberg is the perfect target for such press antics, what with his t-shirt and flip-flop ensemble and quiet demeanor and all.

Yet, the same sources who ruthlessly pick apart Zuckerberg’s mannerisms and implicitly underpin “hacker” stereotypes are, ironically, almost always also the very people who hint at his supposed intention for “world domination,” in the literal and virtual sense. One excerpt from this piece asserts, “Zuckerberg’s ultimate goal is to create, and dominate, a different kind of Internet,” one that is wholly separate from Google’s helm. Near the story’s end, the writer even draws a direct relation between Zuckerberg’s love for classical literature, particularly Greek odysseys, and his innate “imperial tendency.”

Seriously now? I loved the movie American Gangster. I raved about it nonstop for weeks after I watched it, and apparently still do today. Does my love for gangster films also point to some burning, hidden desire of mine to sell heroin and other illegal substances on the streets of Manhattan?

(The answer is a very definitive no, in case I’ve completely lost you.)

In all fairness, though, the writer gleans details about Zuckerberg from firsthand interactions with the man himself and some of his mentors and business partners. And he does paint a very compelling, fascinating picture that takes you from Zuckerberg’s earliest days as a kid working and programming in his dad’s basement to a powerful, mysterious CEO billionaire. In the end, though, I have to wonder: why insert subtle references to Zuckerberg’s geeky, shy persona and then pointedly bring up his so-called inclination towards global domination?

Are we all secretly afraid of the geeks and hackers of society actually achieving what they supposedly set out to do and trying to tune down our fears with jarring stereotypes and subtle mockery?

Or am I simply out of my mind?

Social justice: but what is it, really?

A few months ago, I received my first work assignment: to research and compile a report outlining Saudi Arabia’s current political, social, and economic situation and predict whether or not the nation would be the next country to break out into revolution. This was in late February 2011 during the wake of a “domino effect” in the Middle East, perhaps better known as the Arab Spring, that kicked off in Tunisia and gained momentum and widespread media attention in Egypt. Questions about the likelihood of Saudi Arabia joining the ranks of its neighbors started springing up, particularly among investors concerned about Saudi Arabia’s future ability to continue producing and exporting oil to other global powers such as the U.S.

My job was to figure out whether our global equities department should dispel these fears or weigh in on them.

To say that the project kept me occupied me for the next two weeks is a far cry from the truth: it consumed me.

Not only was the issue pressing–rumors were already circulating over the Internet about a planned March 11 revolt in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia’s capital–but I also needed to make a lasting impression, it being my first work report and all. So I lived and breathed the Middle East for 13 days. I followed liberal, educated Saudi bloggers and revolutionaries on Twitter and sat in front of my laptop at 10 P.M. every night (6 A.M. Saudi time) to watch my feed fill with new developments, insights, and updates on the situation. I spent nearly every waking minute of each day reading news stories, research reports, investment statements, editorials and blogs, keeping tabs on my findings, jotting down pertinent information, and eventually compiling all the information I’d collected into a presentation.

Most importantly? I loved it. My work felt personal, relevant, and urgent. It tinkered with my brain and challenged me to empathize with and understand a culture that, in many cases, clashed with my own Western, Gen Y perceptions of justice and freedom in nearly every respect.

For all my researching, I discovered that the one topic that drew me in the most was the issue of women’s rights in Saudi Arabia.

As a self-proclaimed feminist myself (I have this personal theory that any female student who chooses the liberal arts route is implicitly declaring herself a practicing feminist, but I don’t want to generalize or anything!), I initially reacted with shock and outright horror when I learned about the stark disparities between gender roles in Saudi Arabia. To briefly spell it out…

• Females in Saudi Arabia of all ages are required by Muslim law to have a male guardian. Essentially, the guardian’s permission is needed to carry out tasks such as accepting a job offer, attending college, and traveling. This law has enabled some fathers to sell off their daughters as child brides at as young as age 10.
• Saudi Arabia is the only nation in the world that bans women drivers.
• The Muslim law requires all females to wear an abaya, or full-length black coat, and hijab, or face veil, in public; though the hijab requirement varies by region.
• Gender segregation in malls, supermarkets, and mosques are commonplace. Even several household residences are built with two separate doors for this purpose.

Are you appalled yet? The truth of the matter is, as a Western-minded, pro-democratic U.S. citizen raised on the ideals of self-sufficiency, personal liberty, and equality for all, I could not, for the life of me, wrap my mind around the idea of these Saudi women forgoing their so-called “individual freedoms” in the name of Muslim law and tradition.

They must be miserable! I grieved, outraged and upset. Someone needs to step in and intervene.

In retrospect, my sentiments at the time seem to echo a Western imperialistic notion, one that assumes that any values and beliefs that directly challenge mine and cause me discomfort must be unjust and wrong. 

To put the facts into context, Muslim teaching traces Saudi Arabia as the birthplace and home of prophet Muhammad, also the man who inspired the writings of the Qu’ran. In this respect, the Muslim faith and its laws are highly revered as an integral part of everyday life in Saudi Arabia. So essentially, the Muslim law isn’t just a rule set in place by a human ruling authority: it’s a divine decree, backed by centuries of tradition, that carries heavy connotations of blasphemy and contempt for those who fail to follow suit.

In the end, it was such stories as this NY Times piece outlining the great divide among Saudi women’s views towards gender laws (a female Saudi interviewee proclaims, “As a Saudi woman, I demand to have a guardian.” Who would’ve thought?) and this extensive report by the Center for Strategic & International Studies dissecting the complex nuances in Saudi culture and perspective that woke me to the reality that it is downright impossible to fully understand another culture without first consciously and continuously shedding all prior biases and personal values. Who is anyone to pass judgment on another without first exploring all the possible implications and conflicting viewpoints from a holistic, impartial perspective?

But of course, given the notion that all humans perceive reality through individual experiences, is it even feasible to completely and wholly understand the intentions, thoughts, and beliefs of another? Or is it more sensible to simply admit, “I don’t really understand, but I respect you anyway”?

Why smart UI and airports are practically one and the same (well, sort of…)

I came across this Wall Street Journal piece today about Facebook design lead Soleio Cuervo, more commonly known as the guy who revolutionized the way we dole out compliments in the virtual sphere (and more increasingly, in real-time, too) and measure social currency.

How um, romantic?

In other words, he’s the guy behind the Facebook “like.”

Before I say anything else, I would like the record to reflect that I am avid “liker” myself. To paint an example, my friends poke fun at my habit of “liking” even the comments, photos, and status updates that I post.

Well, what can I say? The “like” knows no limits! If I like it, I “like” it!

Going off that thought, it was only natural for me to be a little curious about how this ultra-likable feature came into being, pun intended and all. In the end, what I was most surprised to discover was how much introspection, trial and error, and deliberate thought went into its development. To sum it up…

• Cuervo is painstakingly meticulous with his work. He draws out his 16-by-16 px images one dot at a time in Photoshop with one window of the image zoomed in so he can see his microscopic work-in-progress as a series of big boxes. I assume this is how he achieves the 80′s Atari video game look. Homeboy is serious about his craft!
• To get a more holistic view, Cuervo takes a screenshot of different pages on the website and zooms out so he can visualize patterns from a “bird’s eye” view, so to speak. Because “people experience Facebook as a whole,” he reasons. Fair enough.
• The article deems Cuervo “a student of the airport.” People expect to navigate the airport with ease; in the same way, Facebook’s design hones in on simplifying the user experience, enabling people to squeeze in the most activity with as minimal effort as possible on their part. In that respect, smart, effective UI is more than just “looking pretty.” It’s about understanding user patterns, ergonomics, and even a bit of human psychology.

In summary, it seems like the process of designing the UI at Facebook is essentially a matter of being able to visualize the website at both the micro and macro levels, identify and integrate functional design based on user patterns, and generate clean, crisp work. Mix that in with a little bit of creative ingenuity, and there you have it–something to like for a good time to come!

What do you think about my cheesy puns? Like ‘em?

The departure: an introduction

Welcome aboard! I’m Emma. You can read more about me here.

After getting pretty good at blogging about myself for the past few years, I’ve decided to venture into uncharted territory and blog about stories I come across or insights and questions that pop up along the way–because trust me, I always have a ton of the latter to go around.

Feel free to contribute to my thought processes by commenting on my posts, tweeting me, or shooting me an e-mail. By no means do I claim to be an expert about the topics on this blog, so please, I ask you to call me out when I may be completely off. I’m all about collaboration and am always excited about meeting new people!