AU's Coffee Controversy - Social Choice and Individual Values

Returning to AU on Tuesday evening, I picked up a copy of the American Weekly and quickly became apprised of the contending point’s of view in AU’s coffee controversy. Should AU welcome Starbucks or a lesser known “socially responsible” chain that served “fair traded coffee” only. How could this be decided in a manner that appropriately reflected the “preferences” of the “AU community.”

My musings on the controversy immediately brought to mind a classic paper in game theory/welfare economics, Kenneth Arrow’s Social Choice and Individual Values. (From a Google perusal, I learned that Arrow, born in 1921, is still living and writing) and that the classic I read, years ago as a doctoral student, was based on his doctoral dissertation. Unlike many dissertations, Arrow’s paper, and his “impossibility theorem” was a profoundly important contribution to both economic and democratic theory. For serious students of economic theory, political theory and mathematics, reading this paper and developing a deep understanding of its implications, should be a must.

The focus of Arrow’s work is what economists call the “aggregation of preferences.” To oversimplify, Arrow asks the question, is it possible to aggregate individual preferences so than they define “social choices” that meet some criteria of rigor and consistency. Within the context of his models, he demonstrates that this is “impossible” under many circumstances. The principal problem is the role of “intense minorities” and the utility metrics associated with their preferences. Suppose those who prefer Starbucks are in the majority, but those who prefer the fair traded alternative feel much more intensely about their position. How is one to arrive at a meaningful “social choices” that aggregates both of these preference sets appropriately.

As I understand it, AU’s Director of Housing and Dining Services is tasked with the responsibility of aggregating divergent “individual values” into a meaningful “social choice.” The work of Kenneth Arrow, Nobel Laureate and one of the world’s greatest living economists, suggests that her task will not be an easy one.

Vulnerability - Sri Lankans Prepare for a Second Tsunami

News broadcasts began to warn Sri Lankans about Indonesian Earthquake about 10:15 PM. Even though my Sinhala (the principal Sri Lankan language) is minimal, it was easy to pick out the word “Tsunami” from the excited reports. My Colombo lodging was inland so there was nothing to do but listen, wait and then try to get a bit of sleep, with more than 16,000 miles and 30 hours of travel ahead.

My driver arrived punctually at 3 AM. I have made this trip to Bandaranaike International airport, in the darkness of early morning hours, more than a score of times. Years ago, the road was a narrow and potholed two lanes in many stretches; and barely lighted. Now it is wider, smoother and brighter. The small shops and boutiques on the side of the road, the occasional pedestrians, the draft animals and stray ones, the ubiquitous king coconut trees, remain pretty much the same.

In the interim since the first news reports, coastal residents had evacuated their homes. This time, warnings of the quake arrived immediately, was transmitted widely, and taken seriously. Queues of men, women and children stood along the roadside (the Colombo – airport road parallels the coastline, some distance inland.) or lay down on improvised sleeping mats or the ground, trying to get some rest. Some simply remained in the busses that had evacuated them. I saw this all as my air conditioned vehicle sped by.

Years ago, development scholar Dennis Goulet, a sometime acquaintance of mine, wrote that for a development scholar/practitioner to fully engage with an alien culture, he or she must be prepared to accept the “postulate of vulnerability”. Stripped of academic jargon, Goulet’s point was that an American (or other western) passport and a ticket home differentiates the “expatriate” from the “native” in a fundamental way. We expatriates can always ‘go home’ in difficult times. Even though we may choose not to do so, it is still a matter of choice. I am deeply connected to Sri Lanka, but not tied to it by an umbilical cord of nationality and citizenship that cannot easily be cut and, perhaps, not be cut at all. That differentiates me in the eyes of others. I view my surroundings through a fundamentally different lens than my friends and colleagues.

I strongly experienced feelings of differentiation as my taxi sped past the hundreds of Sri Lankans, lining the road and awaiting an uncertain future that the sunrise might bring. I was reminded of an earlier departure. My wife and I had completed an earlier tour of duty in the midst of two civil wars. We left our friends, tickets and passports in hand, at a time that the takeover of Sri Lanka by a Pol Pot type regime seemed a real possibility and the writ of the central government ended at the littoral of the Capital City, Colombo.

Democratic Sri Lanka – and most – not all - of my friends survived. This time, the impending threat was nature-made, rather than man-made. But many of my feelings were similar, as my air conditioned taxi sped onwards towards the airport – and “home”.

I have seriously considered becoming a Sri Lankan citizen, but have not fully accepted that ‘postulate of vulnerability” – at least not yet.

Back from halfway around the world

Sri Lanka is a long way away, quite literally halfway around the world and, since it is on the equator, at about the same latitude as Venezuela. When my wife realized that this island nation was going to and ongoing preoccupation, she remarked, if you wanted to study an island nation with political instability, why didn’t you pick Jamaica? !!

When I traveled years ago and returned, people always would ask, What time is it in ….? I don’t know why this question occurred, but the answer is – 9 Am tomorrow morning in Sri Lanka, for a total travel time of about 28 hours – door to door.

As readers will know – or may know – the news of a second Indonesian earthquake reached Sri Lanka about 10 PM. This time the warnings were taken seriously. As “Pali..” , my driver for this trip and I drove along the Colombo Negombo to road to the airport, it was lined with evacuees from the low lying coastal areas. Pali’s wife pleaded with him not to come and meet me – she was fearful that the Kelaniya river, that divides Colombo from the Bandaranaike airport would overflow, drowning both of us. But there was no danger.

I need to stop now. I am pretty practiced sleeping on airplanes. I rarely watch movies any more. But my eyes are closing. Obviously I am not up to the test of an ultramarathon runner, previewed on the Diane Ream show this evening. Missing two night’s sleep, with intermittent airplane respites, seems to be my limit.

By the way... I didn't meet a mean, disagreeable or unhelpful person on my entire trip. Pretty amazng considering that international travel can be a pretty stressfrul and exhausing business. It is a testimony to the basic resiliency and goodness of the human spirit.

More tomorrow……

I'm alive!

Getting email access in Sri Lanka is a bit difficult, but I'm surviving and good things happend with the book this week. Distribution poses a new set of challenges, however. More about this later. The trip was productive and I even got a chance to visit with on Saturday. Many, I have known for fifteen years or more. Watch this trip for a full update on my trip later. Perhaps I will draft it in an airport or on the plane, If I am not do exhausted. Departure time from Colombo 3 AM. Total transit time, about 28 hours. Of course AU students are such world travelers that the routine of early mornning departures and long flights is nothing new.

Greetings from London - the half way point

Colombo is not quite on the other side of the world from Washington, DC, but nearly so. London's Heathrow airport is a transit, if not a geographic mid point. Were this not a busy time at the University, I might stop over for a day, but in mid semester I fly straight through, treating myself to a business class ticket on the 11 hour London-Colombo Lounge.

The Heathrow business class lounge is a familiar setting. Everything is the same, but some things are different. Where I am sitting now, on the first level, used to be the Concorde Lounge, an exclusive setting for passengers willing to spend $10,000 a ticket. Now it is just another lounge, but with free internet service provided - a new feature since last summer, I think. The PCs are Dell - interesting.

Heathrow has become more humane in the last eight months, even for the masses - usually including me - who can't spring for a business class ticket. There seems to be a recognition that passengers stopping over, with time to wait, may not want to spend all of it in a glitzy shopping mall, with no place to sit! There is a multi faith prayer room, where I was able to take a break for morning prayers and meditation.

It is hard to believe that my book is actually done; that I will be able to see the physicality of it. My mother used to tell me that when everything is going smoothly - watch out! Until yesterday - departure day - things were going smoothly. Then there was a glitch that chewed up time, threw me off stride and raised concerns it didn't know were still part of my make up. This is all to the good.

I chose The Essential Gandhi as my traveling companion. Better than taking advantage of "48 viewing options." I have not read the book in a few months and already it is having a positive impact.

Dormgrandpop's next report will be from Colombo.

Helping Others: The Life - Organizing Principle of a Remarkable Human Being

As readers will know, I spent a long weekend with my daughter in Florida. She is an amazing and wonderful person because she has discovered the secret of helping others without enabling their self induced weaknesses or victim tendencies. This is a remarkable talent and it is remarkable to see it in action. She does not publicize her numerous acts of kindness and is not resentful if they go unacknowledged (though she appreciates acknowledgement, like all of us). Not surprisingly, she is beloved – and respected by a legion of friends. Her stock of good karma must surpass that of most human beings.

Thinking about a single phrase to capture the organizing principle of an individual’s life lead me to see there was a word or phrase that would capture my own – and others. The phrase I chose for myself was “empowering mentor’. For my son, I chose “entrepreneur with integrity.” For my daughter in law the phrase was “family values” (in the best sense of the term, not as a political “wedge” issue crafted by political strategist Carl Rove). For my stepson, the phrase was “uncompromising authenticity.”

Can you characterize the organizing principle of your life in a single word or phrase? What would that be? Is that what you would like it to be? If not, what could you do to change things? Would you be willing to make such changes?

The Dean and Dormgrandpop were out on the tennis court again this morning. We each won a set. We speculated as to whether our games have improved over the fifteen years we have been playing together and decided the definitely have! Perhaps we are just aging at the same rate. My phrase for the Dean: “entrepreneur with a vision.”

Sixty-seven years old. Do I feel different inside?

“The funny thing is that I don’t feel any different inside” said my 84 year old mother, then a recovering stroke patient. I thought of this as I as my 67th birthday unfolded yesterday. My mother was trying to capture the idea that while her physical body had changed – the parts were gradually wearing out – she was experiencing some interior essence that had not.

My experience differs from my mother’s… but how? How does life at 67 differ from that of the 20 year olds who are my closest neighbors on most days? How am I different than when I was twenty?

At 67 I am more….
Creative
Inventive
Empathetic
Patient (about most things)
Willing to take risks
Willing to listen
Observant
Accepting of what comes
Financially secure
Forgetful
Spiritual
Wrinkled
Efficient
Willing to share thoughts and feelings (as in this blog)
Protective of my time and discretion
Appreciative of life (I have less of it to live)
Disciplined

At 67 I am less
Physically strong
Agile on the tennis court (but not much less!)
Scattered
Secretive
Interested in being a spectator
Patient (about some things)
Uncertain about my likes and dislikes
Able to see without my glasses
Intense about relationships
Sentimental
Interested in “leisure activities”

Upon reflection, 67 seems like a pretty good time to be alive.

Of course the biggest difference between 20 and 67 is that at 20, you can only wonder how things will turn out in your life. At 67, you mostly know how they did turn out. You are living with the consequences and memories of your good, bad and indifferent choices, with a liberal seasoning of divine intervention added to the mix. At 67 you know you can be in control of some things, but not everything. You know that, as the Lord Buddha said, existence is impermanent. You know that while the speck of conscious mortality that you are remains vital, this hour, minute and second, you are definitely scribing the concluding chapters of its existence, at least on planet earth.

It is time to seize – and savor – the moment!

How things are "outside the beltway."

Southwest Florida on a March afternoon is a bikers paradise. The sky was cloudless.
The temperature was about 65 and breezy, validating the decision to wear tights under my shorts. I rode for more than four hours, extending my trip when I got lost twice – and I didn’t care. Both the ocean and the lagoon that separates barrier islands and mainland sparkled.
But it is a conversation that lingers in my memory. A barbershop caught my eye as I pedaled along, after a lunch of oysters and stuffed mushrooms. It was empty and getting a haircut before embarking for Sri Lanka was on my ‘to do’ list. I stopped, locked my bike and entered. The owner was an attractive, if a bit careworn middle aged woman. Like an amateur Studs Terkil I sought to learn something about her and her life.
She had opened the shop a year ago, after spending more than 25 years working for others “which was hard.” Her clients were predominantly men; women who wanted permanents went to the mail “hair stylist” a few doors down. (he drove a sporty Miata, I later noticed). She had two grown boys – she had advised them not to go into the hair cutting business. Hair cutting was hard, because you were on your feet all day. Her back and neck hurt and she feared that the disks in her spine might be degenerating. I recommended chiropractic assistance, but of course could not refer her to my incomparable Dr. Cheryl Gottesfeld, who seems to have a remedy for most things that ail me. She was not complaining about her circumstances and was cheerful, for the most part. She accepted the pain that accompanied her working and many of her non working hours as reality.
But lack of health insurance, it became clear, was an overriding concern. “I don’t go to the doctor, or even to a chiropractor, because they would just tell me I need to do something I can’t afford,” she told me, “and I worry about what will happen to me if my back gets so bad that I can no longer work.” This was not a slick politician’s sound bite on the Sunday morning talk shows or part of a multi million dollar TV campaign by supporters or opponents of some health care option. This was simply the reality of a middle aged woman, who had raised two sons and opened her own business, worrying about her future on a beautiful Florida afternoon.
American is a rich country. In time of need or crisis, our political leaders can rise to the occasion. We found the wealth and the will to topple the Taliban and Saadam Hussain. We have the wealth to fund Super Bowl commercials and multimillion dollar political campaigns. Television adds (unlike me, my daughter has a TV, so I can expose myself to this facet of our culture) endlessly extol the virtues of prescription drugs, while reminding us, in the last sentence to “talk to our doctor?” As if most of us, even those with health insurance like me, had a personal doctor or if we did have one, that he or she had time for a conversation with us.
Yet here is a woman who, one day, may have the misfortune to be incapacitated by a physical condition that, in all likelihood, could be remedied by some decent medical attention. This is not a Tsunami victim, an amputee from Sierra Leone’s conflict, an AIDS victim in Botswana, young children left bereft by marauding militias in Darfor, an Iraqi policeman who took the job to feed his family blown to bits by a suicide bomber. These are tough problems; perhaps unsolvable problems. This is just an ordinary woman, a decent human being, with chronic back pain and a job that makes it worse.
Amidst the posturing, hypocrisy, dissembling and ideological wrangling that has become the norm of political discourse in Washington, our political leaders have not found away to provide many middle class American citizens, let alone impoverished ones with decent health care. It makes me sick – and ashamed. Where are our priorities? America’s two tier health care system, is an abomination and a disgrace. As citizens, we can at least acknowledge this reality – every day – rather than engaging in slick self-delusion.
Solving this problem is not my top priority, but it should be someone’s priority. It should be a priority of the Senators and Representatives we elect in our democracy to represent us. It should be a priority of our President.
My haircut cost $10. I paid my new acquaintance, left a $2 tip, promised to return when I visited next year, and went on my way.
That’s how things are outside the beltway, this Friday evening.

An interconnected world

Some of us, at least, come to take an interconnected world for granted. Sitting here, in the tranquil retirement enclave, where my daughter's purple house stands out among uniformily pastel ones, I can be (have been) connected to Rome, Sri Lanka, Washington DC with a few taps of my blackberry key or my daughter's DSL hookup.

Of course the connection is partly real and partly illusory. Those with whom I can connect represent a relatively thin veneer, a top a growing mass of humanity who remain unconnected - also, unfed (often) and unwell. I feel it is important to keep them in my consciousness, but hopefully not to allow this consciousness become immobilizing.

Anyhow, God has provded a day in the high 60s filled with sunshine and a clear sky. I need to accept this gift with a long bicycle ride along the beach front and then up the Pinellas trail. Perhaps this will help me to amass some peaceful karma, in preparation for three intense weeks in Sri Lanka and Washington that lie ahead.

For what have I been chosen?

After asking everyone else where they were going for their break, as Anderson Hall emptied. I get to go on a short break myself – to spend a long weekend with my daughter, who lives in Florida. These visits are almost pure “hang out” time, which I really enjoy, even though I do bring my computer along and do some work. But I have to begin with a 6:30 flight from Baltimore. This means a 3:30 wake up. Great for beating traffic, but who wants to get up at 3:30 on a cold morning, even to go to Florida. It reminds me of standing the early morning watch at sea in the North Pacific.

A bigger trip is on the horizon- to Sri Lanka for the “launch” of my book, Paradise Poisoned: Learning About Conflict, Terrorism and Development From Sri Lanka’s Civil Wars. This culminates an eighteen year project, about which I have written before and a real threshold. For instance in my second marriage, there has never been a moment when this book did not loom. What will life be like?

The phrase “I am chosen” that my daughter in law chose to begin the card announcing Olivia Grace’s arrival keeps running through my mind. So for what have I been 'chosen'?

…to write this book

… or my other books

…to begin the faculty residence program at American University

…or to manage and improve AU’s technology support services

…or just to hang out with my daughter in Florida

…or what

All of us have been chosen for something. Part of life is discovering what?

I am chosen

Apart from my Anderson Hall neighbors, whom I sometimes think of as my grandchildren, dormgrandpop has three grandchildren of his own – with a fourth on the way. Two of them are adopted, Gregory, now age seven, joined the family from Hong Kong about a year ago, after the death of this mother. The newest member, Olivia Grace became a member of our family about eight months ago, but completion of formalities on both the Indian and US side kept her in a Bangalore (India) orphanage until last week.

Of course I followed the process closely – in fact I had hoped I might make the trip, but that proved impossible. But her parents chose the most beautiful and wonderful way to announce Olivia Grace’s official arrival in their home – with a picture and a card that read:

I AM CHOSEN

Olivia Grace [dormgrandchild]

Is welcomed with great joy

Born
[date] in Bangalore, India

Joined big brothers Adam and Gregory

and parents Bradford and Sherry

[date]

In India, now, only girl children are put up for adoption to the West. For a variety of cultural reasons, they are less “valued” than boys. Boys receive a dowry, upon marriage and often remain in an extended homestead to support their parents. Parents of girl children must often raise a dowry. Their daughters live out their lives in their in-laws extended homestead, serving them.

Having worked and traveled in South Asia, especially Sri Lanka, for nearly 20 years, I know that Olivia Grace is one of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of girl child orphans. Why was she “chosen” for a different life than most of her contemporaries? How will the scenario of her life unfold? How will that she has been "chosen" it make a difference?

There are some things it is better simply to accept, taking joy in the microcosmic event and the opportunity to enfold, love and nurture this newcomer in our rich, diverse, somewhat unconventional family.

Dealing Compassionately with Your Enemies and Living Simply

I received this morning, the newsletter of the Gandhi Memorial Center, which is located at 4748 Western Avenue, in Washington D.C. (www.gandhimc.org). It included the following passage.

During his detention in Aga Kahn Palace (during World War II) Gandhi gave Khadi (homespun cotton cloth) handkerchiefs as a birthday present to the jail superintendent. Each one bore the initials of the superintendent embroidered by Gandhi, who was then 74 years old. He never cared for show, but detested a shabby, torn dress. At a meeting when he noticed a hole ina worker’s dress he sent a note, saying “to wear torn clothes is a sign of laziness … I could not appreciate it, for it is not a sign of poverty or simplicity.” Gandhi believed that a simple life, whether rich or poor, can be lived elegantly with dignity.

A Reprieve for AU Tennis and Golf

As I was reading email before leaving my office, I received word that AU President Ladner had postponed discontinuing AU’s tennis and golf teams for one year. An excerpt from the press release follows.

“We recognize that the timing of the initial announcement caught our student- athletes, their families, and fans off guard,” President Ladner said. “This new timetable will provide sufficient time for our student-athletes to compete for another season while planning for their future.”

Vice President of University Relations Al Checcio, who oversees AU athletics, expressed appreciation for “the comments and suggestions from our student body, student-athletes, alumni, and parents on this issue,” and indicated that “the University will continue to seek opportunities in the days and weeks ahead to meet with those who have been affected by the decision.”

While this recently announced decision would have been the more humane and sensitive process, initially, it will be useful to view the initial decision and and how it was communicated as a “teachable moment” from which there are still lessons to be drawn. Drawing such lessons, from a variety of life experiences, is a special responsibility of faculty members. President Ladner has often spoken movingly on this faculty role.

Equally important, this is a time for the AU community to come together and move forward; with transparency, candid sharing of views, compassion and mutual respect. Dormgrandpop looks forward to participating constructively in that process.

Patience!

As some readers know, I begin the agenda of CTE’s weekly Management Group meetings with a parable or saying that is intended to raise issues or evoke thoughts that may be relevant to the work we do in CTE. Here is this week’s quotation.

Be patient. God isn’t finished with us yet.

Patience is our compassion for the distance between what we are now and what we know we can be. Because we have such fertile imaginations, we can envision ourselves scaling mountains one moment and swimming oceans the next. To get from the mountaintop to the beach, takes a certain amount of time. If we’re on the mountain and want to go to the ocean, that’s fine. But if we strike at ourselves for not being at the ocean right now, we’re being impatient.

Peter McWilliams, You Can’t Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought, p. 429

When I set these words down I was trying to engender (mostly in myself) a philosophical attitude to institutional processes at AU that sometimes seem to drag on longer than I wish they would. But the thought is applicable to other processes as well – creating a good and also sustainable relationship, raising a child, educating a Ph.D. student from admission to completion of the dissertation, getting tenure and, of course finishing my book!

A beautiful snow

On Monday evening I completed my office hours in Anderson Hall – don’t hesitate to take advantage of these – and trekked back to my office at about nine to spend three hours grappling with CTE budget issues. I was not a happy camper as I left my office after midnight. Sometimes I characterize myself as effective – pretty good at getting things done – but not efficient – it seems to take me longer than most. The empirical evidence is found in the fact that my office light burns later than most. This is not something to be particularly proud of, but has been the story of my life, so I probably need to simply accept the fact that this is so.

In any case, as I left Hurst Hall and walked across the quad, toward Anderson, I encountered one of the most beautiful snowfalls I can remember. There was no wind. It was cold enough to be brisk, but not to be uncomfortable. The gold-orange of the sodium vapor lights reflected on the flakes and fallen snow made the scene more beauful. The campus seemed almost completely deserted – this “aloneness” on the quad is an advantage of being a campus dweller who often rises early and turns in late.

By the time I reached the Anderson entrance, the frustrations of the evening had completely dissipated.

I was at peace and feeling good about life... and myself.

"Save our teams!" - a time for empathy, compassion and civil discourse

I have been an active friend of AU's tennis team and some of its members for several years. Though I am rarely able to watch matches, I have been proud of the track records of these fine men and women, academic and athletic. Thus I was saddened when a team member took me aside, Saturday morning, for an anguished discussion of the decision, suddenly announced two days before to players and coaches, to abolish AU's tennis and golf teams. For at least some team members, my sense is that these events have had an impact similar to a sudden death in the family.

About the financial considerations that motivated this sudden decision (or suddenly announced decision) I have no information and, therefore, nothing to say. As time permits, I am seeking understand what happened and why it happen. Out of my understanding, perhaps I will have something useful to share with students to come to me, seeking an understanding of forces that buffeted them and over which they seem to have no control. For the moment, regretfully, I have little to offer, other than empathy - and sympathy - for all concerned.

To me, what seems most important is that this is a time for compassion, empathy and civil discourse. Civil discourse is what distinguishes an academic community at its best. Compassion and empathy is needed not only by players, coaches and parents who have been impacted by this decision. It may be needed even more by those who made what must have been deeply anguishing decisions about cutting the teams and how the news should be communicated to those whose lives had a stake in them. Giving priority to human beings is another attribute that distinguishes an academic community at its best.