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Can’t talk right now, I’m transferring energy.

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Fri, 09/04/2021 - 11:21pm in

You work all the time. But what is work, really? And how has that changed? In Work: A Deep History, from the Stone Age to the Age of Robots, anthropologist James Suzman digs into these questions. But whether he realizes it or not, he leaves an even bigger one to us.

The future of work is a hot topic. Automation, climate, and inequality make us wonder what’s coming down the pipe, and how to prepare. We might have to change how work works by decoupling labor from pay… difficult questions. But one thing is clear: if we are to change our conception of work, it will help to understand the one we have.

So what’s work, really?

Suzman starts at the beginning—3.5 Billion years ago. Because at its essence, he argues, work is not whatever you get paid for. It is a transfer of energy

Thanks to the law of entropy, he explains, everything in the universe tends to chaos. Life forms impose some kind of order, but creating and maintaining that order takes energy. It requires work to grow leaves or make honey or build a house. So yes, even bacteria and trees do work, despite the fact that they don’t have thoughts about it.

So, Suzman posits that the act of work has been around for a long time, but the idea of work is newer. He explains that our mastery over fire was a likely catalyst. In reducing the energy required to survive, fire gave us leisure. And that might have helped us conceive of its counterpart: work.

How has it changed?

With that energy-definition in place, Suzman talks us through work’s cultural evolution. We start with hunter gatherers: there’s a Kalahari desert tribe who still hunt large animals by chasing them down on foot, just like back in the day. They run until the animal is so dehydrated that it lays down and awaits their spear.

He points out that although such hunts are exhausting, the tribe is lounging most of the time. They conceive of the world as abundant, and have no concept of private property. You only worry about your immediate needs, which are almost always met.

With the arrival of agriculture, that’s what we lost. Because Suzman suspects that the first food surpluses also introduced the concept of scarcity. Once you have a pile of crops, that pile—unlike nature—starts and ends somewhere. And it can be said to belong to somebody.

So farming ushered in modern economics. We started thinking everything was scarce, and inequalities increased. At the same time, farmers had to wait for their crop to mature and thus needed to live on credit for much of the year. So by keeping a record of their debt we created—you guessed it—money.

After that it’s domesticated animals, machines, cities, and the industrial revolution, causing living standards to rise. Working hours rose, then fell, then rose again. Suzman takes us past Luddites, the Great Depression, JK Galbraith, and the War on Talent, all the way until the present where we continue to work a lot while AI seems to breathe down our neck.

As he sends us off, Suzman admits that we can’t go back to hunter-gathering, but hopes that we take inspiration from the tribes and broaden our understanding of work. He reminds us that scarcity and limitless needs are not inevitable truths, nor are they necessary assumptions. These are fantastic points and his detailed evolution of work is very insightful. But it’s missing a piece.

Now for the biggest question

Imagine that you decide to clean up your room, and you call Suzman in to help. He comes over and finds all kinds of junk drawers you didn’t even realize you had, and he spreads the contents all over your living room floor. Then he leaves.

He helped with a crucial step. To reorganize something, you need to know what you’ve got, and identify all the items. But to put them in a better place, you need to know what they’re for. Why did you buy the things you own? And what’s your purpose in rearranging?

To put it bluntly, Work falls short on the question of why. It’s a big book about what we’ve been doing, without much to say about what we do it for. 

To be fair, there are occasions where motives are discussed. One is when he points to a rare bird that builds very elaborate nests only to break them apart and all start over again. Similarly, some people run ultramarathons. Darwin’s survival of the fittest can’t explain it, Suzman says, so it’s probably a way to get rid of energy surpluses. 

I can’t explain the bird either. But ask any ultramarathon-runner, and I bet they’ll tell you they did it because it was a meaningful experience—not because they were sitting on the couch bouncing up and down and only 31 miles would do the trick.

The second occasion is consumer culture. Suzman cites Galbraith who points to the way advertisers exploit our relative needs, making us want to work more to buy more. This undoubtedly plays a role. And to state the obvious, many of those less affluent will do any work that can help them survive.

But is that it?

Consider your own case

Why do you do the job you have? Is it the easiest way to survive? Is it a means to get rid of surplus energy?  I doubt it. The right kind of work GIVES you energy. How does it do that? Because it’s meaningful. Why is it meaningful? Because you are able to contribute something. You are able to make a change. You are fulfilling a purpose you set for yourself. So these are the questions to ask: What’s the work out there that we think needs doing? What should work be for?

Perhaps Suzman didn’t get to these questions because there wasn’t much room for them in the past. In that case, fair enough. It may be that today’s circumstances of relative affluence and increasing levels of automation give them real relevance only now. But if we want a concept of work that we can carry forward, we can’t let ‘em drop.

And Suzman will be happy to know that there are plenty of young economists ready to do away with the assumptions of scarcity and limitless needs. But doing away with things is not enough. We need to introduce some new stuff too. And if you’re asking me, that new stuff is meaning

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some work to do •

About the Author: Heske van Doornen is Manager of the Young Scholars Initiative and co-founder of this blog. Twitter: @HeskevanDoornen

Buy the Book
Work: A Deep History, from the Stone Age to the Age of Robots Book
By James Suzman | Penguin Press (2021)

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Book note: Emily Kenway, The Truth About Modern Slavery

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Sun, 04/04/2021 - 2:36am in

I spend yesterday reading Emily Kenway’s excellent The Truth About Modern Slavery (Pluto Press, 2021). Kenway, a former advisor to the UK’s anti-slavery commissioner has her sights set on one of the most pernicious moral panics of recent years, espoused by right-wing politicians and “radical feminists” alike and used to legitimize a range of policy interventions, but particularly the hardening of borders, increased surveillance and, in relation to the sex industry, the “Nordic model”. Kenway’s argument is that the “modern slavery” industry, leveraging a parallel with actual slavery that is unjustified, promotes a focus on practices of coercion and exploitation that are represented as exceptional and abusive and as contaminating a system of labour and employment that is otherwise well-functioning. It leads to a discourse that emphasises the rescuing of victims from the evil gangs that exploit them and obscures the fact that the everyday operations of capitalism and the nation state generate the the conditions under which people make choices, often freely and rationally, to accept pretty horrible conditions, because those conditions are, for them, the best ones on offer. The book is very much focused on the UK, but readers elsewhere will certainly find parallels in their own countries.

Kenway is very good on the way in which the very same politician who have made “modern slavery” into a crusade have also been the ones who have increased the precarity that marginalized workers and irregular migrants experience. At the same time as May was issuing declarations on the subject, she was pioneering, as UK Home Secretary, the Hostile Environment that made it far more difficulty for migrants to get employment in the regular economy. Kenway highlights the ambigious status that workers at the sharp end of this discourse have: victims, if they are found dead in a trailer or “rescued” from a brothel; perpetrators and immigration offenders if they emerge from a trailer alive. The book is very up to date, but since its publication Priti Patel, the UK’s new Home Secretary, introducing a yet more restrictive immigration regime has complained that “illegals” are “abusing” the modern slavery protections in order to remain in the UK. So it goes.

Another strong point in the book is an examination of the way in which horror statistics are manufactured to fuel moral panic. How many trafficked women are there in the UK, for example? An academic study starting with 71 definite cases in 1998, moved through extrapolation to an upper bound of 1420, but by 2007 the now-disgraced MP Denis Macshane was confidently telling the House of Commons that there were 25,000 sex slave. Something must be done.

Kenway exposes the limitations of voluntary reporting of abusive practices by companies checking their supply chains (often difficult to impossible to achieve) and of suggestions that consumers can change practices by ethical shopping. If often turns out that plantations and factories with ethical certification have more abuse going on that those without. Rather, she argues for states tackling abuse through properly funded inspectorates and application of labour law. At present, even in countries such as the UK, sweatshops can thrive because the same policians who are banging on about modern slavery are starving factory inspectors of resources! Trade unions also provide a necessary defence against exploitation. And safe, legal migration pathways coupled with better wages and conditions in origin countries would both provide workers with better options and deny the unscrupulous the opportunities to take advantage of them. UBI gets a mention too, though not uncritically. “Modern slavery” is represented as contaminating something that is basically OK: the reality is that people face horrible choices and practices that are common in the mainstream of the economy (hello Amazon, Uber, Sports Direct) are cranked to an extreme for the most vulnerable. Recommended.

The Bakery That’s Owned by an Idea

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 16/03/2021 - 1:10am in

It’s really hard to bake in a wood-fired brick oven, says Matt Kreutz, who has been working in bakeries since 1996, at age 14, and first baked in a wood-fired brick oven at age 17.

“You have to monitor it all the time. It’s a pain in the ass, it’s dirty, it’s really challenging to control, challenging to work with,” Kreutz says. “But the amount of thermal mass you can bring to bear to baking, it means you can manipulate the dough in different ways. It just allows you to get a level of caramelization you’re not going to get with a regular gas oven. You get unique characteristics for sure.”

Kreutz founded Firebrand Artisan Breads in 2008, with just four employees in a West Oakland warehouse, baking bread and pastries in a wood-fired brick oven. In 2017, Firebrand moved to a new, larger facility, jumping overnight from a dozen to 55 employees. It now has its own cafe and hundreds of retail partners across the Bay Area, from local coffee shops and delis to four Whole Foods locations.

It’s going to be another big year for Firebrand, which is building out a new, larger wood-fired brick oven bakery in Alameda. At least 40 more employees will join the company once it’s up and running as expected in April.

Anyone can already apply for one of those potential jobs. Firebrand has for years practiced an open hiring policy, with a focus on hiring people with high barriers to employment, such as people experiencing homelessness or who were formerly incarcerated. The advertised starting wage is $16.50 an hour, with health and vision and dental insurance kicking in after 90 days of employment, paid time off up to 40 hours, and 72 hours paid sick leave. Are you a night owl? The bakery has been running 24/7 since 2012.

Food and beverage businesses like this one, on this kind of growth trajectory, would normally be a prime candidate for investment from a venture capital firm. It’s a unique, high-quality product flying off the shelves wherever it goes, a great story behind a brand that gives it a narrative edge that Millennials and younger consumers value. It’d be relatively easy to rope in a venture capital partner that would help finance the new bakery facility and then work on taking the brand national, eventually going public or selling the company for some ungodly amount to Amazon or Unilever or some other corporate giant. Either would mean a huge payday for Kreutz.

breads“I didn’t want that temptation, didn’t want people coming in with different motivations. I just didn’t want that voice in the room,” says Kreutz. Credit: Naoto Sato / Flickr

Industry analysts estimate food and beverage startups raised $9.5 billion in venture capital worldwide from 2013-2018, funding everything from regional restaurant chains to Beyond Meat — which went public in 2019. But if Firebrand went that route, what would happen to the workers in Oakland or Alameda, not to mention the families and the neighborhoods who they support? Would shareholders or corporate executives leave them behind to move production to somewhere far away for the sake of lower labor costs or land costs? How much wealth would that create for Kreutz, a white cis man, and venture capital investors, who are overwhelmingly white cis men, while simultaenously reducing wages and upward mobility for Firebrand’s workers, who are 80 percent people of color?

Firebrand instead worked with outside advisors and lawyers to incorporate something called a perpetual purpose trust to serve as a new parent company, and Kreutz donated 51 percent of his voting shares to the trust to hold in perpetuity. The governing body of the trust is a stewardship committee, consisting of Kreutz, Firebrand employees and external community members who work on issues affecting Firebrand’s employees.

Firebrand then sold $2.5 million in shares to private investors, which the company used to finance the buildout of the new bakery facility in Alameda — which includes a worker resource center to offer career development services and classes to Firebrand workers and others seeking assistance.

“I didn’t want that temptation, didn’t want people coming in with different motivations,” says Kreutz. “I just didn’t want that voice in the room. I wanted us to be able to control our destiny and sink or swim because we do what we do.”

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Selling or transitioning a business into the ownership of a trust isn’t exactly new. It’s been common as part of estate planning for small business owners who have historically used it as a way to avoid estate taxes after the original owner passes away but wants the economic benefits of the business to stay within their family. There’s a whole universe of law firms, accountants, financial planners and other advisors who help business owners take advantage of trust ownership transitions. As 10,000 baby boomers retire every day, it’s becoming more and more popular for those who happen to own a business.

Perpetual purpose trusts are a subset of trusts where the legal beneficiary is a purpose, instead of a person or family. To set up its perpetual purpose trust, Firebrand worked with Stoel Rives, a Minneapolis-based law firm that is an industry leader in trust laws and administration.

Only five states currently — Delaware, New Hampshire, Maine, Oregon and Wyoming — have trust laws that allow for perpetual purpose trusts, according to Purpose US, a nonprofit founded in 2017 to advance steward-ownership and build the field for inclusive ownership, governance and finance. Purpose US also worked with Firebrand to help structure the bakery company’s perpetual purpose trust, which it incorporated in Delaware.

“When we started in 2017, the first conversion into one of these [alternative ownership structures] cost over $1 million in legal fees,” says Camille Canon, executive director at Purpose US. “Since then, we’ve gotten the average cost of one of these transactions down to $25,000. We’ve made it so by the time the folks we work with actually get to legal counsel, they’ve already made all the key decisions about the trust. Lawyers don’t always like us because we take away a lot of their $800-an-hour billable hours.”

The key decisions for a perpetual purpose trust start with defining the purpose of the trust and codifying that in the trust’s charter. Firebrand’s perpetual purpose trust charter contains 11 “purposes” that cover everything from maintaining a profit-sharing program for workers to engaging workers in management and governance to prioritizing the hiring of people who are formerly incarcerated, homeless, or otherwise have high barriers to entering the workforce. It even requires the underlying company’s supply chain to be used to promote equitable business opportunities and fair labor practices.

“We have this document of 11 principles that we have to uphold,” says Allison Hill, one of the two employee representatives on Firebrand’s stewardship committee. “So we have to start thinking about fleshing them out and figuring out what that means for Firebrand. For me, I do all the procurement so it’s all about making sure our vendors are aligned, thinking about what it would it mean to assess our vendors according to those principles and maybe there are vendors we want to work with but can’t yet produce the quantity that we need, but maybe there’s a way we can support their growth.”

Then there’s the key decision about who sits on the stewardship committee and how they are selected. Since Firebrand is still taking time to educate employees and create a culture around its new ownership structure, Kreutz handpicked the first set of stewardship committee members, including himself. Going forward, the trust stewardship committee will elect its own replacements as terms expire.

“I was kind of iffy about it at first, like are you selling us out? But, no,” says Xevion Vega, the other Firebrand employee on the trust stewardship committee. “I was honored that he brought me into this. It’s not everyone for themselves. We’ve been having open meetings to figure out things together.”

And finally, there’s the key decision about profit sharing under the new trust-ownership arrangement. For Firebrand, to start out, employees split up 10 percent of the profits among themselves and investors split up a 90 percent share among themselves until each investor gets back twice what they originally invested. After that point, the arrangement flips so employees split 90 percent of profits and investors split the remaining ten percent.

There are other ways to incorporate and structure a business so that it has a social purpose embedded in its ownership structure — like worker-owned cooperatives. Or benefit corporations, for which 37 states have laws on the books. Kreutz thought about all of them, and even looked into employee stock-ownership programs, or ESOPs, which are very popular across the country as a way to share the fruits of a successful business more inclusively.

But none of the other options really addressed everything that Kreutz had in mind when it came to the future long-term ownership of the business.

Under the prevailing ESOP model, employees accrue shares in the business over time, and eventually those shares can amount to a majority stake in the business. But there’s a catch — if the employees collectively have a majority-share and they receive an offer from investors or larger firms to buy the business at a share price that is higher than the currently appraised value of the business, the employees can approve the offer and sell the company.

That’s exactly what happened not too long ago to two famously employee-owned firms in the food and beverage industry — Full Sail Brewery, acquired by a private equity firm in 2015; and New Belgium Brewery, which accepted an offer to be acquired by a multinational craft brewing company in 2019. The employees at Full Sail and New Belgium did benefit financially from cashing out their shares under the terms of each company’s acquisition, with some employees netting six-figure checks for their shares.

Kreutz didn’t want to find himself in that position nor ever put the employees at Firebrand in the position to have to make the decision between owning and controlling the company and cashing out a windfall the likes of which would be nearly impossible to refuse.

“This made it so none of those options would ever be on the table,” says Kreutz. “There’s no liquidation in this model.”

Liquidation is another way of referring to going public or being acquired by a larger company, and ruling it out also rules out a lot of investors who would need that to happen — which is largely the point. “There’s not a lot of people out there who will hear that and then be like, ‘That sounds amazing,’” says Kreutz.

But there are a growing number of investors out there who are now actively looking for ways to invest their money in ways that will proactively address environmental injustice or structural racism.

Some are already investing money in ways designed to push back against over-policing and over-budgeting for police departments. Some of those investors are also looking at those other alternative ownership structures like worker-owned cooperatives or real estate cooperatives, because they’re seeing Black, Indigenous and other communities of color turning to those models as more worthwhile or accessible alternatives to traditional ownership models.

A lot of those investors are in the Bay Area, where of course there’s a lot of money that’s been made off of tech booms driven by the conventional founder-venture capital-going public model. By the time Firebrand went out to raise $2.5 million last year, it found more than enough investors who were more than happy to invest in something that would never give them the chance to make billions.

Firebrand’s employees are optimistic about the future. “It’s all still fairly new,” says Hill. “It’s hard to say exactly how it’s going to play out. It does feel comforting that we have a legal structure that requires us to do this. It’s not just something we can give up on.”

This story was originally published by Next City. It is part of the SoJo Exchange from the Solutions Journalism Network, a nonprofit organization dedicated to rigorous reporting about responses to social problems.

The post The Bakery That’s Owned by an Idea appeared first on Reasons to be Cheerful.

Things we learn at school

Published by Matthew Davidson on Sun, 27/12/2020 - 2:24pm in

For the last few years I have been working at a local supermarket. Because there are three of them within walking distance, and provided I don't specify which one it is, I believe I can talk about what it's like without violating any confidentiality agreements I may have made during the "yeah, whatever" signing-on-dotted-lines stage of the hiring process.

I was happy enough to do the job for a year or two, but then 2020 happened, so let's make that three or four.

As one of those people who push a trolley round the shop picking online orders, I'm basically paid to get in peoples' way. The maddening thing about it is that when I am in somebody's way, it's they who apologise. Stop saying sorry, people! You haven't done anything wrong!

There's the occasional exception to this rule, memorable for it's rarity. Recently an old fellow grunted "Can you move?", not even prefaced with "excuse me". (Witty response that came to me five minutes too late: "Can I move? You should see me on the dance floor, grandad!")

However by and large, the job is utterly uninteresting, if physically taxing, which comes as a relief to this middle-aged burnout case. If one has to choose, it's far better to punish your body than your psyche.

A while ago my GP asked how work was going, and I replied that over time, the range of things I've been asked to do has expanded. "Oh good," he said, "Intellectual stimulation. You need that."

He's a queer fish, my GP. He makes so much money from treating sneezes and sniffles, and the various diseases of suburban despair, that he's on holiday most of the time for tax reasons, drifting around the world in a little bubble of affluence. I don't think he's quite grasped how much intellectual stimulation is involved in any aspect of running a supermarket — or indeed in most jobs. Which is to say, none whatsoever.

There are points of interest to the experience, mainly derived from observing what various people bring to it. I've seen a lot of people come and go in a few years, which is not unusual down here near minimum wage.

On my trolley is a little computer which, when it's not malfuctioning, leads me about the supermarket by the nose like a pack animal, telling me what to get and where to get it. When you are new to the job, in the process of being broken in, it is emphasised that if you can't find something quickly you should "out of stock it" and move on. Of course the little computer is surveilling you and extracting performance metrics at all times, so speed is of the essence.

Eventually, you realise that the system's little database of stock is chronically incomplete and inaccurate, so you develop workarounds. You also work out that the people who stock the shelves are likewise evaluated by crude metrics, and that it's not in their interest to take care in their work if they will be punished for it, so (for example) a tin of tomatoes is a tin of tomatoes. Whether it's whole, diced, or crushed tomatoes is not a distinction they'll be rewarded for honouring; just get it all on the shelves as quickly as possible.

Once you've amassed a catalogue of all the managerially-imposed perverse incentives relevant to your task, you can start to reverse engineer from these a mental map of the ways that things will inevitably go wrong, and graduate from following a precisely wrong model of how the place works to a fuzzily right model.

The practical upshot of this is that, for example, you don't "out of stock" so often, yet you still get round the shop relatively quickly. Can't find something where your computer says it will be, though there's supposed to be plenty of in stock? Is the amount claimed to be in stock plausible, or likely an artifact of the periodic farcical charade known as "stocktake" (where every item gets counted, but as the item that is supposed to be in that position rather than the item it actually is)? Is it on special this week (in which case it is likely to be on prominent display somewhere else not know to the system, as it's not worth being too fussy about updating the location database week-by-week; that degree of accuracy is not easily measured, and is therefore not incentivised)? Have a look a couple of inches or feet away where there's another product with quite similar packaging. Peer right to the back of the shelf. Insert your arm, James-Herriot-style, up to the shoulder and have a good rummage. When your fingertips make contact with something, grab it, and give it a good yank, bloodying knuckles in the process. Aha! Beep it, bag it, move on…

Now none of that is intrinsically interesting. What is interesting is how long it takes for people to surmount the blind faith in the flawless way that things are supposed to work. Now after a few years, I believe I've identified a statistically significant age-related difference in the attitude that one brings to a new job, which generalises beyond this particular example. It can be summarised like so:

  • Teens/twenties: How does it work?
  • Thirties: How should it work?
  • Forties and older: In what ways is it f**ed up?

You'll be slower and less effective for longer the younger you are, and more likely to be leaned on (which in a deregulated workplace includes being given fewer and fewer hours) till you quit. There are exceptions of course. Personally, I was wandering about in a comically innocent daze until I was in my forties. But in general I've found that the strength of this childlike belief in a world which is pretty well ordered, by grownups who know what they're doing, is proportional to one's degree of, and temporal proximity to, formal education.

So it's not strictly age related. If you're on the sort of career track where you're enjoying "lifelong learning", then clearly reality is not for you. You've taken the blue pill. You're paid to push an arbitrary sort of accountability down the hierarchy by measuring the easily quantifiable, and your only worry is the smaller degree of whimsical discipline imposed from above by those even deeper in cloud cuckoo land.

There's an interesting body of academic work on this, which I'll write about when I get round to reading it. It basically all boils down to Goodhart's Law.

The general cause of the problem is a neoliberal shift from academic education, concerned primarily with how the world actually is, to vocational education which, whether the practitioners know it or not, is about how this or that group of people believe the world should be. In extreme cases, such as mainstream economics, there's no recognition of a possible distinction between the two, since we live in a Panglossian best of all possible worlds, and one can not only derive ought from is, but also go in the other direction. Fault therefore lies not in our systems, but in ourselves. Therefore, it makes sense to measure our virtues using the simple numerical targets of our broken systems: in a word, meritocracy.

My whole working life I've heard conversations among exasperated colleages that run something like "Why do they still not get it? What can we do with them?", often in rooms I've just entered which suddenly fall silent when I'm noticed. To be functional in a fantasy world is to be able to practice the doublethink necessary to insist that the system is fundamentally sound, while intuitively implementing baroque workarounds for the fact that it is fundamentally broken. This phenomenon is fractal, and scales up to the global level, which might give one pause as we "return to normal" in 2021.

I've no conclusion to this…

Now there’s a concept. Make the holidays permanent....

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Sat, 26/12/2020 - 8:22am in

Now there’s a concept. Make the holidays permanent. Petersham.

Unsanitized: Being Thankful in a Pandemic

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 26/11/2020 - 4:47am in

The pandemic has made us a more social people. That sounds paradoxical, given the fact that so many of us have locked away in our homes for the past eight months. Continue reading

The post Unsanitized: Being Thankful in a Pandemic appeared first on

The Future of the Professions

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 16/02/2016 - 10:58pm in

In an era when machines can out-perform human beings at most tasks what are the prospects for employment? In an era when machines can out-perform human beings at most tasks, what are the prospects for employment, who should own and control online expertise, and what tasks should be reserved exclusively for people? The Future of the Professions predicts the decline of today's professions and describes the people and systems that will replace them. In an Internet society, according to Richard Susskind and Daniel Susskind, we will neither need nor want doctors, teachers, accountants, architects, the clergy, consultants, lawyers, and many others, to work as they did in the 20th century.

The authors Richard Susskind OBE (Author, speaker, and independent adviser) and Daniel Susskind (Lecturer in Economics, Balliol College, University of Oxford) explore these questions with Joshua Hordern (Associate Professor of Christian Ethics, Oxford Healthcare Values Partnership), Vili Lehdonvirta (Research Fellow, Oxford Internet Institute) and Judy Wajcman (Anthony Giddens Professor of Sociology, London School of Economics). Chaired by Kathryn Eccles (Research Fellow, Oxford Internet Institute and Digital Humanities Champion, Humanities Division, University of Oxford).

Today's winner of the "I Feel Good About Myself and What I Do for a Living" award is …

Published by Matthew Davidson on Mon, 02/09/2013 - 10:04pm in