Pico Iyer on “the Art of Stillness”: How to Enrich Your Busy, Distracted Life by Unplugging and Staying Put

Hav­ing known Pico Iyer for quite some time, on paper and in per­son, as a per­pet­u­al exam­ple and occa­sion­al men­tor in the writ­ing of place, it delights me to watch him attract more lis­ten­ers than ever with the talks he’s giv­en in recent years, the most pop­u­lar of which advo­cate some­thing called “still­ness.” But at first I won­dered: did this shift in sub­ject mean that Iyer—a Cal­i­for­nia-grown Brit from an Indi­an fam­i­ly who most­ly lives in Japan (“a glob­al vil­lage on two legs,” as he once called him­self), known for books like Video Night in Kath­man­duFalling off the Map, and The Glob­al Soulhad put his sig­na­ture hard-trav­el­ing ways behind him?

Hard­ly. But he did start telling the world more about his long-stand­ing habit of rou­tine­ly seek­ing out the most qui­et, least “con­nect­ed” places he can—the sea­side no-speech-allowed Catholic her­mitage, the rur­al vil­lage out­side Kyoto—in order to reflect upon the time he has spent cir­cling the globe, trans­pos­ing him­self from cul­ture to alien cul­ture. “24 years ago, I took the most mind-bend­ing trip across North Korea,” he tells us, “but the trip last­ed a few days. What I’ve done with it sit­ting still—going back to it in my head, try­ing to under­stand it, find­ing a place for it in my thinking—that’s last­ed 24 years already, and will prob­a­bly last a life­time.”

If we want to fol­low Pico’s exam­ple, we must strike a bal­ance: we must process the time we spend doing some­thing intensely—traveling, writ­ing, pro­gram­ming, lift­ing weights, what have you—with time spent not doing that some­thing, a pur­suit in its own way as intense. He con­nects all this with the 21st-cen­tu­ry tech­nol­o­gy cul­ture in which we find our­selves, cit­ing the exam­ple of folks like Wired co-founder Kevin Kel­ly and even cer­tain enlight­en­ment-mind­ed Googlers who reg­u­lar­ly and rig­or­ous­ly detach them­selves from cer­tain kinds of mod­ern devices, going “com­plete­ly offline in order to gath­er the sense of direc­tion and pro­por­tion they’ll need when they go online again.”

Achiev­ing such a prop­er intel­lec­tu­al, psy­cho­log­i­cal, social, and tech­no­log­i­cal com­part­men­tal­iza­tion in life may seem like a rare trick to pull off. But if you ever doubt its pos­si­bil­i­ty, just revis­it the last talk from Pico we fea­tured, in which he describes his encounter with Leonard Cohen, the only man alive who has suc­cess­ful­ly com­bined the lifestyles of rock star and Zen monk.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Best Writ­ing Advice Pico Iyer Ever Received

Pico Iyer on “The Joy of Less”

How Leonard Cohen’s Stint As a Bud­dhist Monk Can Help You Live an Enlight­ened Life

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Björk’s 6 Favorite TED Talks, From the Mushroom Death Suit to the Virtual Choir

Björk_-_Hurricane_Festival

Image by Zach Klein

Singer-song­writer Björk, cur­rent­ly enjoy­ing a career ret­ro­spec­tive at the Muse­um of Mod­ern Art, cel­e­brat­ed TED’s bil­lionth video view with a playlist of six trea­sured TED Talks. What do her choic­es say about her?

In this talk, artist Jae Rhim Lee mod­els her Mush­room Death Suit, a kicky lit­tle snug­gy designed to decom­pose and reme­di­ate tox­ins from corpses before they leech back into the soil or sky. Despite Björk’s fond­ness for out­ré fash­ion, I’m pret­ty sure this choice goes beyond the mere­ly sar­to­r­i­al.

For more infor­ma­tion, or to get in line for a mush­room suit of your own, see the Infin­i­ty Bur­ial Project.

Con­tin­u­ing with the mush­room / fash­ion theme, Björk next turns to design­er Suzanne Lee, who demon­strates how she grows sus­tain­able tex­tiles from kom­bucha mush­rooms. The result­ing mate­r­i­al may var­i­ous­ly resem­ble paper or flex­i­ble veg­etable leather. It is extreme­ly recep­tive to nat­ur­al dyes, but not water repel­lent, so bring a non-kom­bucha-based change of clothes in case you get caught in the rain.

For more infor­ma­tion on Lee’s home­grown, super green fab­ric, vis­it Bio­Cou­ture.

Björk’s clear­ly got a soft spot for things that grow: mush­rooms, mush­room-based fab­ric, and now…building mate­ri­als? Pro­fes­sor of Exper­i­men­tal Archi­tec­ture Rachel Arm­strong’s plan for self-regen­er­at­ing build­ings involves pro­to­cols, or “lit­tle fat­ty bags” that behave like liv­ing things despite an absence of DNA. I’m still not sure how it works, but as long as the lit­tle fat­ty bags are not added to my own ever-grow­ing edi­fice, I’m down.

For more infor­ma­tion on what Dr. Arm­strong refers to as bot­tom up con­struc­tion (includ­ing a scheme to keep Venice from sink­ing) see Black Sky Think­ing.

Björk’s next choice takes a turn for the seri­ous… with games. Game Design­er Bren­da Romero began explor­ing the heavy duty emo­tion­al pos­si­bil­i­ties of the medi­um when her 9‑year-old daugh­ter returned from school with a less than nuanced under­stand­ing of the Mid­dle Pas­sage. The suc­cess of that exper­i­ment inspired her to cre­ate games that spur play­ers to engage on a deep­er lev­el with thorny his­tor­i­cal sub­jects. (The Trail of Tears required 50,000 indi­vid­ual red­dish-brown pieces).

Learn more about Romero’s ana­log games at The Mechan­ic is the Mes­sage.

Remem­ber those 50,000 indi­vid­ual pieces? As pho­tog­ra­ph­er Aaron Huey doc­u­ment­ed life on Pine Ridge Reser­va­tion, he was hum­bled by hear­ing him­self referred to as “wasichu,” a Lako­ta word that can be trans­lat­ed as “non-Indi­an.” Huey decid­ed not to shy away from its more point­ed trans­la­tion: “the one who takes the best meat for him­self.” His TED Talk is an impas­sioned his­to­ry les­son that begins in 1824 with the cre­ation of the Bureau of Indi­an Affairs and ends in an activist chal­lenge.

Proof that Björk is not entire­ly about the quirk.

See Huey’s pho­tos from the Nation­al Geo­graph­ic cov­er sto­ry, “In the Spir­it of Crazy Horse.”

Björk opts to close things on a musi­cal note with excerpts from com­pos­er Eric Whitacre’s “Lux Aurumque” and “Sleep” per­formed by a crowd­sourced vir­tu­al choir. Its members—they swell to 1999 for “Sleep”—record their parts alone at home, then upload them to be mixed into some­thing son­i­cal­ly and spir­i­tu­al­ly greater than the sum of its parts.

Lis­ten to “Sleep” in its entire­ty here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear the Album Björk Record­ed as an 11-Year-Old: Fea­tures Cov­er Art Pro­vid­ed By Her Mom (1977)

A Young Björk Decon­structs (Phys­i­cal­ly & The­o­ret­i­cal­ly) a Tele­vi­sion in a Delight­ful Retro Video

Björk and Sir David Atten­bor­ough Team Up in a New Doc­u­men­tary About Music and Tech­nol­o­gy

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Artist Takes Old Books and Gives Them New Life as Intricate Sculptures

New York-based artist Bri­an Dettmer cuts into old books with X‑ACTO knives and turns them into remixed works of art. Speak­ing at TED Youth last Novem­ber, he told the audi­ence, “I think of my work as sort of a remix .… because I’m work­ing with some­body else’s mate­r­i­al in the same way that a D.J. might be work­ing with some­body else’s music.” “I carve into the sur­face of the book, and I’m not mov­ing or adding any­thing. I’m just carv­ing around what­ev­er I find inter­est­ing. So every­thing you see with­in the fin­ished piece is exact­ly where it was in the book before I began.”

brian-dettmer-book-art

Dettmer puts on dis­play his pret­ty fan­tas­tic cre­ations, all while explain­ing how he sees the book — as a body, a tech­nol­o­gy, a tool, a machine, a land­scape, a case study in archae­ol­o­gy. The talk runs six min­utes and deliv­ers more than the aver­age TED Talk does in 17.

Fol­low us on Face­book, Twit­ter and Google Plus and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. Or bet­ter yet, sign up for our dai­ly email and get a dai­ly dose of Open Cul­ture in your inbox.

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The Origins of Pleasure: Paul Bloom Explains Why We Like Expensive Wines & Original Paintings

Let’s say you spend a con­sid­er­able amount of mon­ey for a paint­ing by a not­ed artist. Or maybe you get it for a steal. Either way, the paint­ing hangs promi­nent­ly in your home, where it is admired by guests and brings you plea­sure every time you look at it, which is often. Years lat­er, you acci­den­tal­ly dis­cov­er that your paint­ing is not the work of the artist whose sig­na­ture graces the low­er right hand cor­ner of the can­vas, but rather a hereto­fore anony­mous forg­er.  How do you react?

Do you laugh and say, “When I think of all the hap­pi­ness that liv­ing with this beau­ti­ful image has brought me over the years, I feel I have got­ten my money’s worth many times over. I don’t care who paint­ed it!”

Or do you look as though you’ve just real­ized that evil exists in the world, which is how Hitler’s right hand man, Her­mann Göring, reput­ed­ly looked when, as a pris­on­er at Nurem­berg, he was informed that his beloved Ver­meer, ”Christ with the Woman Tak­en in Adul­tery” (below), was actu­al­ly the work of the Dutch deal­er who had sold it to him.

vermeer

Göring’s reac­tion may have been the most human thing about him. Accord­ing to Yale psy­chol­o­gist Paul Bloom, the plea­sure we take in the things we love is deeply informed by their per­ceived ori­gins. For­get mon­e­tary val­ue. For­get brag­ging rights. We need to believe that our paint­ing was not just paint­ed by Ver­meer, but han­dled by him, breathed upon him. If only that Ver­meer of mine could talk…I bet it could set­tle once and for all the exact nature of his rela­tion­ship with that lit­tle serv­ing girl. Remem­ber? The one with the pearl ear­ring?

Oh, wait. She was fic­tion­al. I for­got.

But that’s the sort of prove­nance we crave. The kind that comes with a sto­ry we can sink our teeth into.

The sto­ry must also fit the cir­cum­stances, as Bloom makes plain in his won­der­ful­ly enter­tain­ing TED talk on the Ori­gins of Plea­sure.

Unknow­ing­ly hop­ping in the sack with a blood rel­a­tive or eat­ing rat meat are intrigu­ing nar­ra­tives, pro­vid­ed they hap­pen to some­one else. Knowl­edge of such sto­ries could deep­en your con­nec­tion to a par­tic­u­lar piece of art.

(Can’t you feel the sex­u­al anguish ooz­ing out of my Ver­meer? Did you know he had to choose between buy­ing brush­es and buy­ing food?)

Not the sort of ori­gin sto­ry you’d want to find at the bot­tom of your own per­son­al soup bowl, how­ev­er.

Ergo, let us say that when it comes to plea­sure ema­nat­ing from food, we savor tastes we per­ceive as com­ing from whole­some organ­ic farms, arti­sanal oper­a­tions, restau­rants that are known to have passed the Board of Health’s san­i­tary inspec­tion with fly­ing col­ors. 

And when it comes to drink, we will will­ing­ly believe in the supe­ri­or fla­vor of any­thing poured under the aus­pices of an acclaimed label. Sci­en­tif­ic evi­dence con­firms this.

(On a relat­ed note, I once hung on to a bot­tle after drink­ing the lux­u­ry vod­ka it once con­tained, think­ing I’d refill it with a cheap liquor hack I had read about. The exper­i­ment end­ed when my hus­band com­plained that the water in our Bri­ta pitch­er tast­ed fun­ny.)

Speak­ing of roman­tic part­ners, it turns out that beau­ty tru­ly is not so much in the eye, but the brain of the behold­er. And it’s prob­a­bly not a bad idea to make sure you’ve got the facts regard­ing a poten­tial lover’s age, gen­der, and blood­lines. Caveat emp­tor, as any­one who’s ever seen the Cry­ing Game  will attest.

Note: Paul Bloom has taught a free course through Yale called “Intro­duc­tion to Psy­chol­o­gy,”. It’s avail­able in our col­lec­tion of Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy Cours­es, part of our larg­er col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why We Love Rep­e­ti­tion in Music: Explained in a New TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion

A Dar­win­ian The­o­ry of Beau­ty, or TED Does Its Best RSA

1756 TED Talks List­ed in a Neat Spread­sheet

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

This is Your Brain on Jazz Improvisation: The Neuroscience of Creativity

It’s clear that ama­teur sax­o­phon­ist and Johns Hop­kins sur­geon Charles Limb has an abid­ing inter­est in the neu­ro­science of cre­ativ­i­ty.

He’s also an unabashed fan­boy. I’ll bet the spir­it of sci­en­tif­ic inquiry is not the only moti­vat­ing fac­tor behind this jazz fan’s exper­i­ments on jazz impro­vis­ers.

Sure, he has them play spon­ta­neous vari­a­tions on a MIDI key­board in a func­tion­al MRI tube in order to study blood oxy­gen lev­els in var­i­ous parts of their brains.

But he also gets to hang out in the technologist’s booth, ”trad­ing fours” with cap­tive musi­cian Mike Pope, whom he describes in his TED Talk, above, as “one of the world’s best bassists and a fan­tas­tic piano play­er.”

Is this an exper­i­ment or a DIY fan­ta­sy camp?

I’m not sure one needs thou­sands of dol­lars’ worth of med­ical equip­ment to con­clude that impro­vi­sa­tion thrives when the inner crit­ic is ban­ished. But that’s exact­ly what Dr. Limb’s find­ings reveal. Activ­i­ty in the lat­er­al pre­frontal cor­tex, an area asso­ci­at­ed with self-mon­i­tor­ing, dropped dra­mat­i­cal­ly, while that in the medi­al pre­frontal cortex—a struc­ture asso­ci­at­ed with the self-expression—spiked.

The same thing hap­pened when a rap­per named Emmanuelle was in the tube, free-styling on a set of prompts con­tained in a rhyme Dr. Limb com­posed for the occa­sion:

My pas­sion’s not fash­ion, you can see how I’m dressed 

Psy­cho­path­ic words in my head appear

Whis­per these lyrics only I can hear

The art of dis­cov­er­ing and that which is hov­er­ing 

Inside the mind of those uncon­fined 

All of these words keep pour­ing out like rain 

I need a mad sci­en­tist to check my brain 

(For me, the best part of the TED Talk was when a ner­vous Dr. Limb game­ly per­formed his rap for the crowd, the lyrics pro­ject­ed on a giant screen in case they want­ed to chime in. What I wouldn’t give to have a scan of his brain in this moment…)

The ulti­mate val­ue of Dr. Limb’s research remains to be seen. If noth­ing else, we may get a bit more insight into the work­ings of this most mys­te­ri­ous of organs. But I was struck by a remark he made in an inter­view with Abil­i­ty, a mag­a­zine focus­ing on health, dis­abil­i­ty and human poten­tial:

At some point, every musi­cian grap­ples with whether they’re going to pur­sue it as a pro­fes­sion, or do some­thing else to make a liv­ing. Some musi­cians absolute­ly feel that there’s no oth­er road for them. And then there are oth­er peo­ple, like me, who could have gone into music, but I didn’t feel like I deserved to. And what I mean by that is I wasn’t will­ing to suf­fer for my art. You have to have the con­vic­tion, that you can ride out the lows, to be a real­ly suc­cess­ful musi­cian.

Per­haps in the future, those with the tem­pera­ment for a career in impro­vi­sa­tion­al jazz will use an fMRI to dou­ble check that their deoxy­he­mo­glo­bin con­cen­tra­tions are also up to the task.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

Why We Love Rep­e­ti­tion in Music: Explained in a New TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion

Play­ing an Instru­ment Is a Great Work­out For Your Brain: New Ani­ma­tion Explains Why

Philoso­pher Jacques Der­ri­da Inter­views Jazz Leg­end Ornette Cole­man: Talk Impro­vi­sa­tion, Lan­guage & Racism (1997)

Son­ny Rollins Describes How 50 Years of Prac­tic­ing Yoga Made Him a Bet­ter Musi­cian

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, home­school­er, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. She stud­ied com­e­dy impro­vi­sa­tion with Del Close and plays the piano poor­ly. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

How Languages Evolve: Explained in a Winning TED-Ed Animation

Lan­guage. It’s as adapt­able as Darwin’s finch­es.

It’d be inter­est­ing to know how the Inter­net changes the game. Seems like it would go a long way toward democ­ra­tiz­ing the process by which lin­go gets min­gled.

Alex Gendler’s TED-Ed les­son, win­ning­ly ani­mat­ed by Igor Coric, rolls back the clock to a time when com­mu­nal groups would sub­di­vide and strike out on their own, usu­al­ly in order to beef up the food sup­ply.

This sort of geo­graph­ic and tem­po­ral sep­a­ra­tion was bound to take a toll, lin­guis­ti­cal­ly. Evo­lu­tion is need-based. Vocab­u­lary and pro­nun­ci­a­tion even­tu­al­ly betray the specifics of the speak­er’s sur­round­ings, their cir­cum­stances and needs.

It takes some foren­sics to fig­ure out how, or, even if, var­i­ous lan­guages relate to each oth­er. A cun­ning lin­guist (for­give me) will also have the pow­er to fill in his­tor­i­cal gaps, by iden­ti­fy­ing words that have been bor­rowed from neigh­bor­ing cul­tures, as well as more tran­sient acquain­tances.

As a lit­tle exper­i­ment, look at the way you talk! Those of us with­out roy­al blood or a stick up our heinies tend to speak a mon­grel patois cus­tom tai­lored by our own expe­ri­ence. A lit­tle bit of region­al­ism, some pro­fes­sion­al jar­gon, a few col­or­ful words gleaned from life’s char­ac­ters, lines from long ago enter­tain­ments deployed as if the ref­er­ences were fresh.

I’ll bet a lin­guist would have a field day with you, Bub.

Even if you’re the most straight­for­ward con­ver­sa­tion­al­ist on the plan­et, the peo­ple who can’t under­stand a word you say would great­ly out­num­ber those who can.

Maybe we  should all “speak Man­darin,” as per the bill­boards I saw in Sin­ga­pore on a post-col­le­giate trip. (As a West­ern back­pack­er in Birken­stocks and a wrap-around hip­pie skirt, I was exempt, leav­ing me plen­ty of time to wor­ry about being caned for spit­ting gum on the side­walk, a thing I’d nev­er do, by the way.)

Back to the ani­mat­ed les­son, above. While I agree that polit­i­cal and nation­al inter­ests can be huge­ly influ­en­tial with regard to lan­guage devel­op­ment, I’m not sure a pig is the wis­est choice when depict­ing this lin­guis­tic phe­nom­e­non as an ani­mal’s worth of re-zoned pri­mal cuts, labelled a la the for­mer Yugoslavia.

Pork is haraam, and treif, and  ‘pig,’ in and of itself, is hard­ly a flat­ter­ing epi­thet, a sit­u­a­tion that’s sort of insult­ing to a nat­u­ral­ly intel­li­gent and fas­tid­i­ous beast.

I digress.

As does lan­guage, which explains why there could be as many as 8000 of them in use. A more con­ser­v­a­tive esti­mate puts the num­ber at 3000. Not to alarm you, but if the num­ber of peo­ple who speak your lan­guage is what the food­ie hip­sters of Brook­lyn would refer to as “small batch,” there are lin­guists who would down­grade your tongue to mere dialect.

In which case, this list of obscene ges­tures from around the world might well come in handy.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn 48 Lan­guages Online for Free: Span­ish, Chi­nese, Eng­lish & More

Ali G and Noam Chom­sky Talk Lin­guis­tics

The Ideas of Noam Chom­sky: An Intro­duc­tion to His The­o­ries on Lan­guage & Knowl­edge (1977)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day’s high­ly idio­syn­crat­ic approach to lan­guage can be stud­ied in sev­en books, a num­ber of antholo­gies, and her long suf­fer­ing zine, the East Vil­lage Inky. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

1756 TED Talks Listed in a Neat Spreadsheet

TED-Gates

A quick update for TED heads. In ear­ly 2011 we men­tioned that some­one put togeth­er a handy online spread­sheet that lists 875 TED Talks, with handy links to each video. It’s worth men­tion­ing the spread­sheet again because this evolv­ing Google doc now lists 1756 talks. That works out to more than 440 hours of “riv­et­ing talks by remark­able peo­ple.” Because the page gets updat­ed on a reg­u­lar basis, you’ll want to book­mark it and keep tabs on the new addi­tions.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices.

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Watch Six TED-Style Lectures from Top Harvard Profs Presented at Harvard Thinks Big 5

Har­vard has a few propo­si­tions it would like you con­sid­er. Take, for exam­ple, the one expound­ed on above by Robert Lue, whose titles include Pro­fes­sor of the Prac­tice of Mol­e­c­u­lar and Cel­lu­lar Biol­o­gy, Richard L. Men­schel Fac­ul­ty Direc­tor of the Derek Bok Cen­ter for Teach­ing and Learn­ing, and the fac­ul­ty direc­tor of Har­vardX. As an Open Cul­ture read­er, you might have some expe­ri­ence with that last institution—or, rather, dig­i­tal institution—which releas­es Har­vard-cal­iber learn­ing oppor­tu­ni­ties free in the form of Mas­sive Open Online Cours­es (or MOOCs). You’ll find some of them on our very own reg­u­lar­ly-updat­ed col­lec­tion of MOOCs from great uni­ver­si­ties. Per­haps you haven’t enjoyed tak­ing one, but you may well do it soon. What, though, does their increas­ing pop­u­lar­i­ty mean for uni­ver­si­ties, one of the old­est of the tra­di­tion­al indus­tries we so often speak of the inter­net “dis­rupt­ing”? Lue, who offers eight and a half min­utes of the choic­est words on the sub­ject, would like you to con­sid­er the MOOC’s moment not one of dis­rup­tion for the uni­ver­si­ty, but one of “inflec­tion, and ulti­mate­ly a moment of poten­tial trans­for­ma­tion.”

Lue’s argu­ment comes laid out in one of the six brief but sharp lec­tures from Har­vard Thinks Big 5, the lat­est round of the famed uni­ver­si­ty’s series of TED-style talks where “a col­lec­tion of all-star pro­fes­sors each speak for ten min­utes about some­thing they are pas­sion­ate about.” Jef­frey MironSenior Lec­tur­er and Direc­tor of Under­grad­u­ate Stud­ies in the Depart­ment of Eco­nom­ics and senior fel­low at the Cato Insti­tute, has a pas­sion for drug legal­iza­tion. In his talk just above, Miron tells us why we should recon­sid­er our assump­tions about the ben­e­fits of any kind of drug pro­hi­bi­tion — or at least, the ben­e­fits we just seem to assume it brings. And as we rethink our posi­tions on the role of gov­ern­ment in drug use and tech­nol­o­gy in the uni­ver­si­ty, why not also rethink the role of large news orga­ni­za­tions — and large orga­ni­za­tions of any kind — in our lives? Below, Nic­co Mele, Adjunct Lec­tur­er in Pub­lic Pol­i­cy at the Shoren­stein Cen­ter at Har­vard’s Kennedy School, explains why all kinds of pow­er, from man­u­fac­tur­ing san­dals all the way up to gath­er­ing news, has and will con­tin­ue to devolve from insti­tu­tions to indi­vid­u­als.

The rest of the Har­vard Thinks Big 5 line­up includes Senior Lec­tur­er on Edu­ca­tion Kather­ine K. Mer­seth advo­cat­ing careers in teach­ing,  Pro­fes­sor of Mol­e­c­u­lar and Cel­lu­lar Biol­o­gy Jeff Licht­man advo­cat­ing “chang­ing the wiring in your brain,” and African Amer­i­can Stud­ies pro­fes­sor and Hiphop Archive at Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty found­ing direc­tor Mar­cyliena Mor­gan advo­cat­ing a rich­er study of what grown-ups used to call, with a groan, “rap music.” You can read more about the talks and the pro­fes­sors giv­ing them at the Crim­son, before watch­ing and decid­ing whether to agree with them, dis­agree with them, or sim­ply con­sid­er — in oth­er words, to think. The videos are also avail­able on iTune­sU.

Kather­ine K. Mer­seth

Jeff Licht­man

Mar­cyliena Mor­gan

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Har­vard Presents Free Cours­es with the Open Learn­ing Ini­tia­tive

Har­vard Thinks Green: Big Ideas from 6 All-Star Envi­ron­ment Profs

Har­vard Thinks Big 4 Offers TED-Style Talks on Stats, Milk, and Traf­fic-Direct­ing Mimes

Har­vard Thinks Big 2012: 8 All-Star Pro­fes­sors. 8 Big Ideas

Har­vard Thinks Big 2010

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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