Category: Society & Culture

  • Share Values Part 1

    In business, the share price of a company is an abstraction of value – a single number that subsumes every quality and quantity that affects the business. Or, in the succinctly insightful words of Ben Evans, an opinion of the future. This post is not about share prices, it is about sharing. But I felt a connect with both the above ‘definitions’. On the first, given the volume of sharing we now do online, it is no surprise that likes/shares/subscribers/followers are an abstraction of value. In many ways, the commoditisation of an individual. And so on the second, can the answer to ‘why we share’ explain the changing mindset of society at large, and thus shine some light on what this will lead to?

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  • Accustomed Reality

    Shared understanding is something I have been interested in for a while and have written about in some of my earlier posts – Default in our stars, An IG Story* – among the most recent ones. While the posts were primarily on the individual context, my concern has also been at the societal and species levels because the ability to create and act on a shared understanding is what got us this far. Variety, serendipity, and the opportunity to debate, agree, disagree, identify biases, agree to disagree but hopefully in a civilised manner.

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  • Mall me, maybe

    On a Friday last month, D and I decided to do something on a whim. We broke our now established weekend pattern of ‘logically arguing’ with ourselves and deciding to stay at home and watch a movie on OTT. Off(line) we went to the neighbourhood mall to watch a Malayalam movie, which turned out to be excellent, though the movie hall was just about half-packed. Since we’d had an early dinner, we decided to drop in at a Third Wave that we thought was new. But we hadn’t been to the mall in ages, and couldn’t be sure.

    In a lovely post titled Fountains of Youths, Jamie Loftus visits food courts from Alaska to Arizona and talks to teens about the local mall, and their favourite fare at the food courts. As I read it, I found myself time travelling to the 80s. To Suburban Store in well, the suburbs of Cochin. It was a department store but with malls being non-existent this was magic enough for me. They had two aisles full of toys after all. In the 90s, it was Abad Plaza on Cochin’s main street, the only place that had French fries! 🙂

    Zoom to the early 2000s and Transit at the Forum Mall, Koramangala was a regular hangout. We weren’t teens, but if Jamie talked to us, we would have had a few perspectives. In the 2010s, when Phoenix opened shop in Whitefield, we used to make the trek twice a year from Koramangala for the end of season sale. And chocolate momos at the food court were a ritual.

    Our visits have dwindled since then, and just before COVID, I was melancholic about my snobbery (or about finally adulting?) when passing through a food court, I realised that my sensibilities had changed to an extent where I asked D, how we could have eaten this! And in the context of the mall, “why are so many people here!” 😐

    At 10PM, we were one of a handful of customers at Third Wave. I sat sipping a Chamomile (I had given up after experiments at home, but thanks to this, realised that it is possible not to thoroughly destroy something!). The shops were closed and my cherished people-gawking pastime was impossible, but I realised I liked this. Late night in an empty mall. The coffee shop is adjacent to a book store and I told D that I missed the ‘discoveries’ at book stores. Amazon has spoilt me.

    One of two other customers at the coffee shop was an elderly man. It was only when his driver (I think) came to wheel him out that I noticed he was in a wheelchair. He tried to convince his helper to have something, and failed. He left, checking out books as the security watched him, and smiling at us as he went past. I sighed. A few minutes later, we paid and left. Once upon a time we would have walked home, but the roads have too many dogs that turn to dire wolves. Once upon a time, I’d have carried a stick, but now a fight has too many downsides.

    Something has shifted in me, I realised, as I turned back to look at the mall before getting into the cab. Maybe I will give Crossword some of my book business. And every once in a while, watch a movie in theatres. Discovery doesn’t just work for books. There is a joy in seeing other people laugh at the jokes while watching a movie, smiling back at an old man in a wheelchair in a mall at 10PM, and just seeing people outside the confines of a screen or an office. It seems we have come full circle. We are human again.

  • Relative rationality

    After a failed exchange plan, I gave our TV to the apartment security guy. I had thought it would be an upgrade for him, but it turned out he had no TV at home, and therefore no clue what to do with it. I suggested talking to the cable guy in his neighbourhood, but the next day he gleefully announced that his daughter had connected it to the mobile and they were now watching YouTube. I told him about data charges but overall, the issue was resolved.

    Them

    Around the same time, D got a call from a relative in Kerala about her daughter joining a college in Bangalore. She wanted to know if we knew about the college, and also check how far we were from it. We were especially far away, and I wondered why they didn’t use Google Maps since all relevant locations were known to them. Later, it turned out that they even visited Bangalore to get the hostel sorted and apparently went right back because classes had not begun and any stay in the hostel would involve extra charges! This time I wondered why they didn’t use the phone to call ahead and ask the college before setting out! I found it especially surprising because the girl’s brother claimed to regularly shop from Amazon! I automatically compared these two kids to the security guy’s daughter, roughly the same age. Did staying in Bangalore provide a kind of ‘tech privilege’, or was it a mindset?

    Us

    We also have a few friends in their 40s who have settled abroad. A conversation about waiting times for doctors in Europe led to a quality of life comparison. We have now spent close to two decades in Bangalore, and never really made any attempts to settle elsewhere. I remember how in my 20s, my mindset was that we’d be second class citizens anywhere else in the world. I also didn’t want to move far away from Kerala, though this was at a time when culture – food, movies etc – wasn’t as portable as it is today. Traffic notwithstanding, I really like Bangalore and wouldn’t trade places, but the 40s are when you face your “what ifs” head on, and ideally get some closure! But I digress.

    The discussion made me wonder how an objective observer would evaluate our decision to not move abroad. I think we could have easily done it in our 30s if we had decided to, especially given we had no procreation plans. And yet we didn’t really consider it or even have a serious discussion about it. Arguably, the quality of life in at least some parts of the West is better, and so, would that observer think of it as an opportunity wasted? And think of us the same way I thought of D’s relatives – not using the access they had to ‘unlock’ information and opportunities?

    Everyone

    The concept, of course, is bounded rationality – the idea that rationality is limited when individuals make decisions, and under these limitations, rational individuals will select a decision that is satisfactory rather than optimal. Satisficing vs optimising. But what I am realising now are a couple of things. One, it is practically impossible to be objective about it. I continued to rationalise even as I wrote about our domicile non-decision! And it’s not just for the self after time has passed – it’s a moving target because one evolves. Not stepping into the same river twice and all that. It is also for others about whom one can be relatively more objective. Funny how I expect them to optimise when I don’t always do it in my personal life. Yet another reason to stay from being judgmental about others, and self! And two, the increasing levels of satisficing that happens as one grows older. Interestingly, I automatically compartmentalise work and life and am an optimiser in the former. But in personal contexts, it’s a struggle because there are two opposing mindsets – “growth happens at the end of your comfort zone” vs “you do you”. And I can’t even say do what you’re comfortable with because that’s clearly in the comfort zone. Maybe a better framing is “what makes me feel alive”.

  • Moral Signs 2

    “It’s these times. Morality is a moving target”

    Robert Folger, Snowpiercer

    A ‘grandchild’ at work wants to move to an edtech. She is convinced it’s an ‘opportunity that she won’t get later’. I contest on both counts. She is immensely talented, and given her work ethic, it is easy to see that she will be an absolute star. I would like her to do well, but it is an organisation I have actively talked against – IRL and on Twitter – and there is enough proof of its misdeeds. She wasn’t aware of this, and is nonplussed, but doesn’t want to turn back now. I bring up our debates on how she felt Seagram’s “Men will be men” was legitimising misogyny, and furthering a regressive world view. That got us on to morality. I remembered the ‘professional’ version I had written a while ago and sent it to her. I also remembered that I had meant to write this personal version earlier.

    Morality and self image

    (from the previous version)

    “We’re living in an era of ‘woke’ capitalism, right? I’m Nike, I pretend to care about black people. You pretend to hate capitalism and buy my trainers.”

    “Industry” (BBC/HBO)

    This pretension helps us retain our self image while consuming the things and experiences. There is narrative cohesion while avoiding uncomfortable truths. And sometimes, even some virtue signalling. 

    In general, the world is hyper competitive, and the choices we make might not sit well with self image, especially when morality is also at play. In the post, I had brought up the point that having a moral compass means saying goodbye to what would be considered lucrative opportunities. Even more so in the last few years. Crypto, real money gaming, fintech, edtech – the big pillars of the recent startup boom – all have moral loopholes (generalising). Same goes for Big Tech. But now regulation and external factors are catching up.

    The self image is gloating with “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” (Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.) But everything is a cycle.

    Let’s go beyond work and take say, entertainment. Recently, I tweeted

    You can catch many discussions on Saudi blood money around the web. If one were absolutely moral, one should immediately stop watching these sports. I don’t watch any of these, but that’s largely because I am uninterested.

    And anyway, I can make similar cases against movies and every other general consumption – apparel, on-demand deliveries, house help, and practically every daily touchpoint. It isn’t easy for me to slither out of everything.

    As you can see, being very objective about one’s own morality is dangerous for self image, and thus sanity. Maybe that compromise is the origin story of cancel culture (canceling on Twitter only, not in life). While I can see how that helps self image, I also do believe there is a limit to not being objective about oneself.

    Morality is plastic

    The Activa is being sold to the husband of one of the housekeeping staff at the apartment. He comes by on a Saturday evening, after his daily labours, and shows me his Aadhar card on a taped-up plastic-covered mobile phone. He doesn’t know how to forward it, so he’d give me a photocopy, he says. He also insists that I count the cash. He seems very particular that I treat the entire transaction with the dignity it deserves, including our price negotiation. It furthers my own narrative about why I shouldn’t give it to him for free, but hey, I am watching me. I know that an equal reason is that this amount is part payment for something I have been eyeing. Something I don’t need but would like to have. I tell myself that he and his family will be rid of a few commute problems at a lower cost. That it’s a net positive.

    There is an intense discussion happening in the apartment WhatsApp group – a couple of street hawkers (no, not fancy bikers) have set up shop on the pavement and the residents are worried about the area becoming a hub, and thus creating bigger problems. I see the case for shooing them away though I won’t voice it. I also won’t voice the contrarian view – D and I didn’t want to trigger a WhatsApp war. I see one of the hawkers when D and I go for a stroll after dinner. He is selling plastic items, and is using one of his buckets as the seat. It is around 9PM on a Saturday night. He is older than I am, and I begin to think about my conversation in office about how our chairs aren’t ergonomic enough.

    A moral operating system

    I used to judge myself by the only morality is action, but I couldn’t handle all the trade-off. I also realise that this entire conversation is from a position of privilege. And that my estimation of how easy that makes it, is woefully lowballing it. I remind myself that there is no morality in nature, only causality (Jonathan Haidt). Maybe we need to evolve a lot more if we need morality and practicality to co-exist. And maybe that won’t happen.

    So what can I do? I can stretch myself and do the right thing even if it takes me away from my comforts. I can recognise the limits, and stop being judgmental of self and others.

    Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

    Rumi