Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Salman Khan: The New Andrew Carnegie?
by Annie Murphy Paul, Time
Meet Salman Khan, your child’s new teacher. If you haven’t heard of Khan, rest assured that your son or daughter is in good hands. He has four degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and Harvard. He got a perfect score on the math portion of his SAT. And he’s very experienced, having taught more than 85 million lessons to students all over the world.
Khan is the former hedge fund manager who set out to tutor his young cousin in math with a homemade video he posted online. From that modest beginning has grown the Khan Academy, a free online library of more than 2,700 videos offering instruction in everything from algebra to computer science to art history. Running the nonprofit academy is now Khan’s full-time job, and he plans to expand the enterprise further, adding more subject areas, more faculty members (until now, all the videos have been narrated by Khan himself) and translating the tutorials into the world’s most widely used languages.
Much attention has been paid to the use of Khan Academy videos in classrooms. Hundreds of schools across the U.S. have integrated his lessons into their curricula, often using them to “flip” the classroom: students watch the videos at home in the evening, then work on problem sets — what would once have been homework — in class, where there are teachers to help and peers to interact with. The approach is promising, and it may well change the way American students are taught.
The real revolution represented by Khan Academy, however, has gone mostly unremarked upon. The new availability of sophisticated knowledge, produced by a trusted source and presented in an accessible fashion, promises to usher in a new golden age of the autodidact: the self-taught man or woman. Not just the Khan Academy, but also the nation’s top colleges and universities are giving away learning online. Khan’s alma mater, MIT, has made more than 2,000 of its courses available gratis on the Internet. Harvard, Yale, Berkeley, Johns Hopkins and Carnegie Mellon are among the other elite institutions offering such free education. When Stanford announced last August that it would be opening to the online public a course on artificial intelligence, more than 70,000 people signed up within a matter of days. The course’s two professors say they were inspired to disseminate their lessons by the example of Salman Khan. Khan Academy’s own videos now go well beyond basic algebra to teach college-level calculus, biology and chemistry.
Read more:
Photos: Left; Steve Jurvetson: Right; Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
Meet Salman Khan, your child’s new teacher. If you haven’t heard of Khan, rest assured that your son or daughter is in good hands. He has four degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and Harvard. He got a perfect score on the math portion of his SAT. And he’s very experienced, having taught more than 85 million lessons to students all over the world.

Much attention has been paid to the use of Khan Academy videos in classrooms. Hundreds of schools across the U.S. have integrated his lessons into their curricula, often using them to “flip” the classroom: students watch the videos at home in the evening, then work on problem sets — what would once have been homework — in class, where there are teachers to help and peers to interact with. The approach is promising, and it may well change the way American students are taught.
The real revolution represented by Khan Academy, however, has gone mostly unremarked upon. The new availability of sophisticated knowledge, produced by a trusted source and presented in an accessible fashion, promises to usher in a new golden age of the autodidact: the self-taught man or woman. Not just the Khan Academy, but also the nation’s top colleges and universities are giving away learning online. Khan’s alma mater, MIT, has made more than 2,000 of its courses available gratis on the Internet. Harvard, Yale, Berkeley, Johns Hopkins and Carnegie Mellon are among the other elite institutions offering such free education. When Stanford announced last August that it would be opening to the online public a course on artificial intelligence, more than 70,000 people signed up within a matter of days. The course’s two professors say they were inspired to disseminate their lessons by the example of Salman Khan. Khan Academy’s own videos now go well beyond basic algebra to teach college-level calculus, biology and chemistry.
Read more:
Photos: Left; Steve Jurvetson: Right; Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
Helicopters and Boomerangs
[ed. Manifestations of these phenomena are found in other parts of the world, too..In Japan, they use the charming euphemism parasite single.]
by Lawrence J. Cohen and Anthony T. Debenedet M.D., Time
As advocates of parent-child rough-and-tumble play, we have often bumped up against the bubble-wrapping tendencies of the helicopter parent. So when Merriam-Webster announced recently that helicopter parent is now a bona fide entry in their dictionary, we took notice. The concept — a parent who is overly involved in the life and safety of his or her child — surely predates the first known use of the phrase, in 1989. But official inclusion in the dictionary suggests that helicoptering is not just a fad that will go out of style. In fact, more and more parents seem to be in hover mode these days, but the trend is worth standing up to. Because the truth is that children benefit from precisely the opposite of helicoptering: rowdy, physical, interactive play — or roughhousing. Roughhousing between parent and child, not helicoptering, makes kids smart, emotionally intelligent, likable, ethical and physically fit. (...)
For others, focusing too much on the future leads to a collapse, a giving up and dropping out of what seems like an impossible and exhausting ordeal. In the words of a “recovered” helicopter parent we know, “I finally got it when I realized all I wanted for my child was a manageable failure, a blip on the screen, a trip to the principal’s office — something to help him learn the art and beauty of imperfection and the fact that life goes on even when it isn’t exactly how we planned it to go.” These ideas bring to mind another term, boomerang child, which was also entered into the dictionary this year. A boomerang child is a young adult who returns home to live with his or her parents after college, usually due to financial reasons. Aside from the obvious economic factors, it’s possible that some of these boomerangers are the result of too much helicoptering, too much attention on the avoidance of falling or failing — and not enough attention on the excitement of risk or the wonders and dangers of the unknown.
Read more:
Photo: David Pollack / Corbis

As advocates of parent-child rough-and-tumble play, we have often bumped up against the bubble-wrapping tendencies of the helicopter parent. So when Merriam-Webster announced recently that helicopter parent is now a bona fide entry in their dictionary, we took notice. The concept — a parent who is overly involved in the life and safety of his or her child — surely predates the first known use of the phrase, in 1989. But official inclusion in the dictionary suggests that helicoptering is not just a fad that will go out of style. In fact, more and more parents seem to be in hover mode these days, but the trend is worth standing up to. Because the truth is that children benefit from precisely the opposite of helicoptering: rowdy, physical, interactive play — or roughhousing. Roughhousing between parent and child, not helicoptering, makes kids smart, emotionally intelligent, likable, ethical and physically fit. (...)
For others, focusing too much on the future leads to a collapse, a giving up and dropping out of what seems like an impossible and exhausting ordeal. In the words of a “recovered” helicopter parent we know, “I finally got it when I realized all I wanted for my child was a manageable failure, a blip on the screen, a trip to the principal’s office — something to help him learn the art and beauty of imperfection and the fact that life goes on even when it isn’t exactly how we planned it to go.” These ideas bring to mind another term, boomerang child, which was also entered into the dictionary this year. A boomerang child is a young adult who returns home to live with his or her parents after college, usually due to financial reasons. Aside from the obvious economic factors, it’s possible that some of these boomerangers are the result of too much helicoptering, too much attention on the avoidance of falling or failing — and not enough attention on the excitement of risk or the wonders and dangers of the unknown.
Read more:
Photo: David Pollack / Corbis
Current Events: So What Exactly is a Technocrat Anyway?
by Joshua A. Tucker, Aljazeera
The sky is falling! The Euro is collapsing! What can we do? Look, up in the sky: it's a bird! it's a plane, it's... technocratic government!
Destined to save small and large European countries alike, we have now been graced with the sudden appearance of technocratic government as a deus ex machina in Italy, where economist Mario Monti has been named prime minister and Greece, where economist Lucas Papademos has been named prime minister. As the hero of our day - the technocratic government - is largely unknown to many of our readers, we summon the spirit of Greek drama for a brief dialogue on technocratic government:
Q: What's a technocratic government?
A: To answer this question we first need to be clear about how governments are formed in parliamentary systems, which are what we find in both Greece and Italy (and most advanced industrialised democracies outside of the United States). Unlike in presidential systems - where the president is largely free to choose the ministers he or she wants in the cabinet - in a parliamentary system the government must be approved by the parliament.
Often this will require the agreement of more than one political party, resulting in a coalition of parties to support the government. As part of this "coalition agreement", the heads of ministries (or what are called Secretaries in the United States) are allocated to the different parties, who place representatives from their parties as the heads of their respective ministries. Moreover, the parties agree on a "Prime Minister" to head the government, usually but not always from the largest party in the coalition. Most of the time, the identity of this "Prime Minister" - conditional on election results - is known during the election campaign.
Q: Ok, so what's a technocratic government?
A: Technically (no pun intended), a technocratic government is one in which the ministers are not career politicians; in fact, in some cases they may not even be members of political parties at all. They are instead supposed to be "experts" in the fields of their respective ministries. So the classic example is that the Finance Minister would be someone with an academic background in economics who had worked for years at the IMF, but has not previously run for elective office or been heavily involved in election campaigns.
Read more:
Photo: Reuters
The sky is falling! The Euro is collapsing! What can we do? Look, up in the sky: it's a bird! it's a plane, it's... technocratic government!

Q: What's a technocratic government?
A: To answer this question we first need to be clear about how governments are formed in parliamentary systems, which are what we find in both Greece and Italy (and most advanced industrialised democracies outside of the United States). Unlike in presidential systems - where the president is largely free to choose the ministers he or she wants in the cabinet - in a parliamentary system the government must be approved by the parliament.
Often this will require the agreement of more than one political party, resulting in a coalition of parties to support the government. As part of this "coalition agreement", the heads of ministries (or what are called Secretaries in the United States) are allocated to the different parties, who place representatives from their parties as the heads of their respective ministries. Moreover, the parties agree on a "Prime Minister" to head the government, usually but not always from the largest party in the coalition. Most of the time, the identity of this "Prime Minister" - conditional on election results - is known during the election campaign.
Q: Ok, so what's a technocratic government?
A: Technically (no pun intended), a technocratic government is one in which the ministers are not career politicians; in fact, in some cases they may not even be members of political parties at all. They are instead supposed to be "experts" in the fields of their respective ministries. So the classic example is that the Finance Minister would be someone with an academic background in economics who had worked for years at the IMF, but has not previously run for elective office or been heavily involved in election campaigns.
Read more:
Photo: Reuters
More Mammoth (and Mysterious) Structures Found in China’s Desert
by Noah Shachtman, Wired
The internet lost its collective mind earlier this week, when a Reddit user stumbled across “what appears to be a monumental military/science experiment going on in a Chinese desert, visible on Google Earth.” But the strange and massive box of jagged lines wasn’t the only odd structure carved into the ground — and this week’s swarm of Google-spotters weren’t the first ones to take an interest in the region.
As former CIA analyst Allen Thomson notes, turning on the DigitalGlobe coverage layer in Google Earth shows all the various times the imaging satellite has been asked to inspect that part of the desert. (Here’s a screenshot, above.) “Starting in 2004, somebody has ordered many, many satellite pictures of it,” Thomson tells Danger Room. “Can’t have been cheap.”
Below are some of the strange things those satellite swoops photographed, which were then uncovered by Danger Room’s community of commenters.
Read more:
The Educational Lottery
by Steven Brint, LA Review of Books
Education is as close to a secular religion as we have in the United States. In a time when Americans have lost faith in their government and economic institutions, millions of us still believe in its saving grace. National leaders, from Benjamin Rush on, oversaw plans for extending its benefits more broadly. In the 19th century, the industrialist Andrew Carnegie famously conceived of schools as ladders on which the industrious poor would ascend to a better life, and he spent a good bit of his fortune laying the foundations for such an education society. After World War II, policy makers who believed in the education gospel grew numerous enough to fill stadiums. One by one, the G.I. Bill, the Truman Commission report, and the War on Poverty singled out education as the way of national and personal advance. “The answer to all of our national problems,” as Lyndon Johnson put it in 1965, “comes down to one single word: education.”
The American education gospel is built around four core beliefs. First, it teaches that access to higher levels of education should be available to everyone, regardless of their background or previous academic performance. Every educational sinner should have a path to redemption (most of these paths now run through the community colleges). Second, the gospel teaches that opportunity for a better life is the goal of everyone and that education is the primary — and perhaps the only — road to opportunity. Third, it teaches that the country can solve its social problems — drugs, crime, poverty, and the rest — by providing more education to the poor. Education instills the knowledge, discipline, and the habits of life that lead to personal renewal and social mobility. And, finally, it teaches that higher levels of education for all will reduce social inequalities, as they will put everyone on a more equal footing. No wonder President Obama and Bill Gates want the country to double its college graduation rate over the next 10 years.
The advance of the education gospel has been shadowed from the beginning by critics who claim that education, despite our best efforts, remains a bastion of privilege. For these critics, it is not that the educational gospel is wrong (a truly democratic, meritocratic school system would, in principle, be a good thing); it is that the benefits of education have not yet spread evenly to every corner of American society, and that the trend toward educational equality may be heading in the wrong direction. They decry the fact that schools in poor communities have become dropout factories and that only the wealthy can afford the private preparatory schools that are the primary feeders to prestigious private colleges. The Higher Education Establishment recognizes critics like these as family. They accept the core beliefs of the education gospel and are impatient only with its slow and incomplete adoption.
Other heresies are more radical, and thus more disturbing to settled beliefs about the power of education. One currently growing in popularity we might call “the new restrictionism.” According to the new restrictionists, such as the economists Philip Babcock and Mindy Marks, co-authors of the 2008 paper “Leisure College USA: The Decline in Student Study Time,” access to higher education may have gone too far. Our colleges and universities are full to the brim with students who do not really belong there, who are unprepared for college and uninterested in breaking a mental sweat. Instead of studying, they spend time talking on the phone, planning social events, chitchatting about personal trivia and popular culture, and facebooking. Faculty members demand less of these students, according to Babcock and Marks, both because they are incapable of doing more and because they will punish faculty members with bad evaluations if they are pushed to try harder. The students often consider courses that require concentration “boring” and “irrelevant.” They argue and wheedle their way into grades they do not deserve. The colleges, out of craven financial motives, do not squarely face the fact that not all of their students are “college material.” Worse, they cater to ill-prepared and under-motivated students, dumbing down the curriculum to the point where a college degree is worth less, in terms of educational quality, than a degree from one of the better high schools. Institutions at the tail end of academic procession are, as David Riesman once put it, “colleges only by the grace of semantic generosity.” (...)
Another heresy, and a very old one, is the idea that schooling provides education for servitude rather than freedom. It crushes the spirit, rather than expanding it. It is easy to see the elements of truth in this critique: Schools do line students up in rows, make them raise their hands, set them on task after evaluated task, insist on discipline in the classroom, and reward the motivated conformists. The “free the students” heresy goes back at least to Rousseau; though popular among Romantics of all eras, it had a major resurgence in the 1960s, when Paul Goodman, John Holt, and Ivan Illich carried the “free the students” flag. For them, children are born creative and curious, only to have the schools drum out these natural dispositions in order to create good soldiers for “the system.” (...)
John Marsh is a proponent of another old heretical sect: the “fool’s gold” group. These heretics specialize in debunking the social progress beliefs of the educational gospel. Although education does indeed lead to social mobility for some, Marsh argues, it cannot do so for most. For the working classes, a much better approach, he believes, would be to attack the proximate sources of inequality: tax laws that privilege the rich and labor laws that restrict the rights of unions and set the minimum wage below a decent living standard. “Given the political will,” he writes, “whether through redistributive tax rates, massive public works projects, a living wage law, or a renaissance of labor unions, we could decrease poverty and inequality tomorrow regardless of … the number of educated and uneducated workers.” Left to its own devices, he argues, expansion of the educational system will produce not social equality but credential inflation: the condition in which higher levels of education (or distinctive brands of education) are necessary to “buy” standards of living previously associated with lower levels (or generic brands) of education. As workers attain the bachelor’s degree, middle-class incomes become associated with the attainment of master’s or first professional degrees, and access to truly powerful opportunities requires attendance at an elite institution. (...)
Finally, there is the “true educators” sect, to which University of Chicago professor of education Philip W. Jackson belongs. This group takes the standpoint of the Platonic form of education to inspire deeper appreciation of craft and, at least indirectly, to hold up a mirror to the deficiencies of our current system of schooling. For these heretics, upward mobility is beside the point; to dwell on such sociological factors is to neglect the true nature of education. What does “true education” look like? Drawing on Hegel, Kant, and Dewey, Jackson has an answer.
Read more:
Education is as close to a secular religion as we have in the United States. In a time when Americans have lost faith in their government and economic institutions, millions of us still believe in its saving grace. National leaders, from Benjamin Rush on, oversaw plans for extending its benefits more broadly. In the 19th century, the industrialist Andrew Carnegie famously conceived of schools as ladders on which the industrious poor would ascend to a better life, and he spent a good bit of his fortune laying the foundations for such an education society. After World War II, policy makers who believed in the education gospel grew numerous enough to fill stadiums. One by one, the G.I. Bill, the Truman Commission report, and the War on Poverty singled out education as the way of national and personal advance. “The answer to all of our national problems,” as Lyndon Johnson put it in 1965, “comes down to one single word: education.”
The American education gospel is built around four core beliefs. First, it teaches that access to higher levels of education should be available to everyone, regardless of their background or previous academic performance. Every educational sinner should have a path to redemption (most of these paths now run through the community colleges). Second, the gospel teaches that opportunity for a better life is the goal of everyone and that education is the primary — and perhaps the only — road to opportunity. Third, it teaches that the country can solve its social problems — drugs, crime, poverty, and the rest — by providing more education to the poor. Education instills the knowledge, discipline, and the habits of life that lead to personal renewal and social mobility. And, finally, it teaches that higher levels of education for all will reduce social inequalities, as they will put everyone on a more equal footing. No wonder President Obama and Bill Gates want the country to double its college graduation rate over the next 10 years.
The advance of the education gospel has been shadowed from the beginning by critics who claim that education, despite our best efforts, remains a bastion of privilege. For these critics, it is not that the educational gospel is wrong (a truly democratic, meritocratic school system would, in principle, be a good thing); it is that the benefits of education have not yet spread evenly to every corner of American society, and that the trend toward educational equality may be heading in the wrong direction. They decry the fact that schools in poor communities have become dropout factories and that only the wealthy can afford the private preparatory schools that are the primary feeders to prestigious private colleges. The Higher Education Establishment recognizes critics like these as family. They accept the core beliefs of the education gospel and are impatient only with its slow and incomplete adoption.
Other heresies are more radical, and thus more disturbing to settled beliefs about the power of education. One currently growing in popularity we might call “the new restrictionism.” According to the new restrictionists, such as the economists Philip Babcock and Mindy Marks, co-authors of the 2008 paper “Leisure College USA: The Decline in Student Study Time,” access to higher education may have gone too far. Our colleges and universities are full to the brim with students who do not really belong there, who are unprepared for college and uninterested in breaking a mental sweat. Instead of studying, they spend time talking on the phone, planning social events, chitchatting about personal trivia and popular culture, and facebooking. Faculty members demand less of these students, according to Babcock and Marks, both because they are incapable of doing more and because they will punish faculty members with bad evaluations if they are pushed to try harder. The students often consider courses that require concentration “boring” and “irrelevant.” They argue and wheedle their way into grades they do not deserve. The colleges, out of craven financial motives, do not squarely face the fact that not all of their students are “college material.” Worse, they cater to ill-prepared and under-motivated students, dumbing down the curriculum to the point where a college degree is worth less, in terms of educational quality, than a degree from one of the better high schools. Institutions at the tail end of academic procession are, as David Riesman once put it, “colleges only by the grace of semantic generosity.” (...)
Another heresy, and a very old one, is the idea that schooling provides education for servitude rather than freedom. It crushes the spirit, rather than expanding it. It is easy to see the elements of truth in this critique: Schools do line students up in rows, make them raise their hands, set them on task after evaluated task, insist on discipline in the classroom, and reward the motivated conformists. The “free the students” heresy goes back at least to Rousseau; though popular among Romantics of all eras, it had a major resurgence in the 1960s, when Paul Goodman, John Holt, and Ivan Illich carried the “free the students” flag. For them, children are born creative and curious, only to have the schools drum out these natural dispositions in order to create good soldiers for “the system.” (...)
John Marsh is a proponent of another old heretical sect: the “fool’s gold” group. These heretics specialize in debunking the social progress beliefs of the educational gospel. Although education does indeed lead to social mobility for some, Marsh argues, it cannot do so for most. For the working classes, a much better approach, he believes, would be to attack the proximate sources of inequality: tax laws that privilege the rich and labor laws that restrict the rights of unions and set the minimum wage below a decent living standard. “Given the political will,” he writes, “whether through redistributive tax rates, massive public works projects, a living wage law, or a renaissance of labor unions, we could decrease poverty and inequality tomorrow regardless of … the number of educated and uneducated workers.” Left to its own devices, he argues, expansion of the educational system will produce not social equality but credential inflation: the condition in which higher levels of education (or distinctive brands of education) are necessary to “buy” standards of living previously associated with lower levels (or generic brands) of education. As workers attain the bachelor’s degree, middle-class incomes become associated with the attainment of master’s or first professional degrees, and access to truly powerful opportunities requires attendance at an elite institution. (...)
Finally, there is the “true educators” sect, to which University of Chicago professor of education Philip W. Jackson belongs. This group takes the standpoint of the Platonic form of education to inspire deeper appreciation of craft and, at least indirectly, to hold up a mirror to the deficiencies of our current system of schooling. For these heretics, upward mobility is beside the point; to dwell on such sociological factors is to neglect the true nature of education. What does “true education” look like? Drawing on Hegel, Kant, and Dewey, Jackson has an answer.
Read more:
Paul Newman, Decency Manifest
[ed. Love letter to Paul Newman in text and pictures from the gals at the Hairpin. And, really, who doesn't love Paul Newman? One of the interesting things, beyond his movie career, was how successful he was as a race-car driver.]
by Anne Helen Petersen, Hairpin
So let’s set things straight: Paul Newman isn’t from Classic Hollywood. In fact, he’s not even scandalous — if anything, he managed to avoid scandal altogether, in a way that few stars have before or since. His star image was that of a genuinely talented actor, a kind man, a passionate philanthropist, and an absolutely devoted husband....
….who just happened to the most gorgeous thing on the planet. Sometimes I’ll say that a movie star is good looking, or sexy, or handsome, but I also realize that my opinion is subjective, and others might not find him to be so. But when it comes to Paul Newman, it is impossible not to find him attractive. He is objectively handsome. His blue eyes are un-unlikable.
What’s that you say? You don’t find Paul Newman attractive? You’re going to tell me so in the comments? You are a robot.
Usually the prettiest boys are the biggest assholes. If you went to high school or ever set foot in a fraternity, you know this to be true. But sometimes the prettiest boys don’t realize they’re pretty, and they somehow end up becoming decent human beings, getting really into car racing, making lots of pantry items, and using the profits from said pantry items to let kids go play en plein air. Paul Newman is one of those few and far between. Or, more precisely, his image is that of one of the few and far between — the guarantor that hotness and decency are not mutually exclusive.
Read more:
by Anne Helen Petersen, Hairpin
So let’s set things straight: Paul Newman isn’t from Classic Hollywood. In fact, he’s not even scandalous — if anything, he managed to avoid scandal altogether, in a way that few stars have before or since. His star image was that of a genuinely talented actor, a kind man, a passionate philanthropist, and an absolutely devoted husband....
….who just happened to the most gorgeous thing on the planet. Sometimes I’ll say that a movie star is good looking, or sexy, or handsome, but I also realize that my opinion is subjective, and others might not find him to be so. But when it comes to Paul Newman, it is impossible not to find him attractive. He is objectively handsome. His blue eyes are un-unlikable.
What’s that you say? You don’t find Paul Newman attractive? You’re going to tell me so in the comments? You are a robot.
Usually the prettiest boys are the biggest assholes. If you went to high school or ever set foot in a fraternity, you know this to be true. But sometimes the prettiest boys don’t realize they’re pretty, and they somehow end up becoming decent human beings, getting really into car racing, making lots of pantry items, and using the profits from said pantry items to let kids go play en plein air. Paul Newman is one of those few and far between. Or, more precisely, his image is that of one of the few and far between — the guarantor that hotness and decency are not mutually exclusive.
Read more:
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Investing In Packers, Wallet And Soul
by Ken Belson, NY Times
In any other place, they would be called souvenirs, documents suitable for framing, or even a sham. But here in the heart of Packers country, they are stock certificates that confer to the owner a microscopically thin and perhaps meaningless slice of the hometown team.
The Green Bay Packers are the only publicly owned team in the N.F.L., but the value of the shares they will soon offer to fans is almost strictly of the sentimental variety. They offer none of the privileges, or risks, of normal shares: they do not appreciate, are not traded on an exchange and produce no dividends. Owners get no discounts on tickets, although some merchandise is available only to shareholders.
Perhaps the biggest benefit is that they get to attend the annual shareholders’ meeting, where they can vote on new board members and pepper management with questions.
Yet with the economy flirting with recession and more than 4.75 million shares outstanding, the Packers, who already have 112,264 shareholders, are confident that their fans will line up by the thousands to buy shares again. And chances are they’re right.
In the coming weeks, the team expects to complete its offering of new shares. According to a filing with securities regulators in Utah, the Packers plan to issue shares for about $250 each. And fans who have closets full of Brett Favre jerseys and foam cheeseheads, as well as old stock certificates hanging on the wall, may well shell out hundreds of dollars for more shares, if only because they cannot resist the chance to support their team and indoctrinate the next generation.
“We live and breathe the Packers,” said Chuck Olsen, the owner of Olsen’s Piggly Wiggly, which does a big business selling bratwursts to tailgaters on game days. “Everyone wants to be part of this, so I’ll buy a share for my grandson, who is now 1 year old.”
The team hopes to raise at least $22 million after fees, about what was generated in 1997, the last time it sold shares. The money raised will help offset some of the $143 million needed to add as many as 7,000 seats and replace the scoreboard and sound system at Lambeau Field.
In an era when teams routinely beg, threaten and cajole their host cities into helping them build new stadiums, the Packers’ approach of asking their fans to contribute is refreshingly quaint. And something of a tradition.
The team’s fans are fiercely proud of the Packers’ publicly owned status, which dates to 1923 when Curly Lambeau and four local businessmen incorporated and sold 1,000 shares of the team at $5 each to keep it afloat. The Packers also issued stock not just in 1997, but also in 1950 and 1935 to bolster their sagging finances. Each time, fans snapped up the shares even though they were little more than a gift to the team.
Read more:
Photo: Morry Gash/Associated Press
In any other place, they would be called souvenirs, documents suitable for framing, or even a sham. But here in the heart of Packers country, they are stock certificates that confer to the owner a microscopically thin and perhaps meaningless slice of the hometown team.

Perhaps the biggest benefit is that they get to attend the annual shareholders’ meeting, where they can vote on new board members and pepper management with questions.
Yet with the economy flirting with recession and more than 4.75 million shares outstanding, the Packers, who already have 112,264 shareholders, are confident that their fans will line up by the thousands to buy shares again. And chances are they’re right.
In the coming weeks, the team expects to complete its offering of new shares. According to a filing with securities regulators in Utah, the Packers plan to issue shares for about $250 each. And fans who have closets full of Brett Favre jerseys and foam cheeseheads, as well as old stock certificates hanging on the wall, may well shell out hundreds of dollars for more shares, if only because they cannot resist the chance to support their team and indoctrinate the next generation.
“We live and breathe the Packers,” said Chuck Olsen, the owner of Olsen’s Piggly Wiggly, which does a big business selling bratwursts to tailgaters on game days. “Everyone wants to be part of this, so I’ll buy a share for my grandson, who is now 1 year old.”
The team hopes to raise at least $22 million after fees, about what was generated in 1997, the last time it sold shares. The money raised will help offset some of the $143 million needed to add as many as 7,000 seats and replace the scoreboard and sound system at Lambeau Field.
In an era when teams routinely beg, threaten and cajole their host cities into helping them build new stadiums, the Packers’ approach of asking their fans to contribute is refreshingly quaint. And something of a tradition.
The team’s fans are fiercely proud of the Packers’ publicly owned status, which dates to 1923 when Curly Lambeau and four local businessmen incorporated and sold 1,000 shares of the team at $5 each to keep it afloat. The Packers also issued stock not just in 1997, but also in 1950 and 1935 to bolster their sagging finances. Each time, fans snapped up the shares even though they were little more than a gift to the team.
Read more:
Photo: Morry Gash/Associated Press
Two Degrees of Disaster
by Elizabeth Kolbert, New Yorker
Two years ago, at a meeting in Copenhagen, world leaders agreed on the goal of limiting global warming to two degrees Celsius, or roughly three and a half degrees Fahrenheit. The so-called Copenhagen Accord, which Barack Obama personally helped negotiate, contained no mechanism for meeting this goal, so even though the President called it a “meaningful and unprecedented breakthrough,” many others questioned whether it was worth the proverbial paper it was printed on. Unfortunately, it now seems, the many others had a point.
On Wednesday, the Paris-based International Energy Agency released its annual “World Energy Outlook.” Among the report’s key findings is that, in spite of a shaky economy, global carbon-dioxide emissions rose by five per cent last year, to more than thirty billion metric tons. Meanwhile, energy efficiency—defined as the amount of energy used per unit of economic output—declined for the second year in a row. According to the I.E.A., “The door to 2°C is closing.” The group warned that unless dramatic action is taken by 2017, so many additional billions of tons of emissions will effectively be “locked in” that a temperature increase exceeding two degrees will become inevitable.
“If we don’t change direction soon, we’ll end up where we’re heading,” the report said.
One of the (many) obstacles to engaging the public on the issue of climate change is that, in the context of daily life, a temperature increase of two degrees Celsius (or even the larger number in Fahrenheit) sounds like no big deal. The problem, of course, is that daily life is a poor guide when the issue you’re dealing with is the global average. In that context, an increase of two degrees spells—at the very least—massive disruption. In fact, many scientists have warned that holding the average global temperature increase to “only” two degrees Celsius is a bit like limiting yourself to “only” a few rounds of Russian roulette: unless you’re uncommonly lucky, the result is not likely to be happy. As a group of climatologists put it on the blog RealClimate,
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Photograph by Nicolas Asfouri/AFP/Getty Images
Two years ago, at a meeting in Copenhagen, world leaders agreed on the goal of limiting global warming to two degrees Celsius, or roughly three and a half degrees Fahrenheit. The so-called Copenhagen Accord, which Barack Obama personally helped negotiate, contained no mechanism for meeting this goal, so even though the President called it a “meaningful and unprecedented breakthrough,” many others questioned whether it was worth the proverbial paper it was printed on. Unfortunately, it now seems, the many others had a point.

“If we don’t change direction soon, we’ll end up where we’re heading,” the report said.
One of the (many) obstacles to engaging the public on the issue of climate change is that, in the context of daily life, a temperature increase of two degrees Celsius (or even the larger number in Fahrenheit) sounds like no big deal. The problem, of course, is that daily life is a poor guide when the issue you’re dealing with is the global average. In that context, an increase of two degrees spells—at the very least—massive disruption. In fact, many scientists have warned that holding the average global temperature increase to “only” two degrees Celsius is a bit like limiting yourself to “only” a few rounds of Russian roulette: unless you’re uncommonly lucky, the result is not likely to be happy. As a group of climatologists put it on the blog RealClimate,
Even a “moderate” warming of 2°C stands a strong chance of provoking drought and storm responses that could challenge civilized society, leading potentially to the conflict and suffering that go with failed states and mass migrations. Global warming of 2°C would leave the Earth warmer than it has been in millions of years.Meanwhile, other scientists have already turned their attention to a future beyond two degrees. Earlier this year, Britain’s Royal Society devoted an entire issue of its journal Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A to this topic. One of the articles in the issue posed the question “When could global warming reach 4°C?” (Which is to say, an increase of more than seven degrees Fahrenheit.) The answer, it concluded, was fairly soon. If the world continues on its current emissions path, then by the 2070s, the authors calculated, average global temperatures should be about four degrees higher than they were before the Industrial Revolution. If certain carbon “feedbacks” turn out to be stronger than currently predicted, then that four-degree rise could occur by the 2060s. A second article looked at what this might mean for society. The author, Rachel Warren, a researcher at the University of East Anglia, observed that in
a 4°C world, the limits for human adaptation are likely to be exceeded in many parts of the world, while the limits for adaptation for natural systems would largely be exceeded throughout the world.Since we can’t know the future, it is possible to imagine that, either through better technology or more creativity or sheer necessity, our children will be able to find a solution that currently eludes us. Somehow or other, they will figure out a way to avoid “a 4°C world.” But to suppose that an answer to global warming can be found by waiting is to misunderstand the nature of the problem. Once you’ve dumped CO2 into the atmosphere, there’s no getting it back, at least not on a human timescale. When it comes to global warming, the future really is now.
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Photograph by Nicolas Asfouri/AFP/Getty Images
A Saint With Sharp Elbows
In her race for Ted Kennedy’s old Senate seat, is Elizabeth Warren running against Scott Brown and Obama?
by Jason Zengerle, New York
In January of last year, Elizabeth Warren went on The Daily Show and did what was then, and still is, that rarest of things: She gave a cogent, compelling, almost crystalline account of the financial collapse. It wasn’t the first time she had delivered this story, but her task seemed particularly urgent that night. A Republican named Scott Brown had just won Ted Kennedy’s old Senate seat, depriving Democrats of a filibusterproof majority and prefiguring the bloodbath the party would take during the midterms. Barack Obama had been in the White House for a little more than twelve months, and already it appeared that he was losing control of the political narrative.
Warren tried to wrest it back. The problems started not with Obama, she said, but in the eighties, when the financial regulations that had been put in place after the Great Depression began to be repealed. This allowed “the big financial firms, the titans of Wall Street,” to “start selling ever more dangerous mortgages, ever more dangerous credit cards, ever more dangerous car loans,” which they then repackaged and sold again, producing, in addition to huge profits and bonuses, huge risk. After the market took a downturn, “all that risk that’s been built into the system starts to come home, somebody’s got to pay,” and “those same CEOs on Wall Street basically turn around to the American people and say, ‘Whoa, there’s a real problem here, and you better bail us out or we’re all gonna die.’ And so we did, that was TARP. And now we’re about to write the last chapter in this narrative.”
The story could have two endings, Warren said: one that favored “the CEOs on Wall Street” or one that turned out okay for the rest of us. “This is America’s middle class. We’ve hacked at it and chipped at it and pulled on it for 30 years now, and now there’s no more to do. Either we fix this problem going forward or the game really is over.” Jon Stewart, who had mostly kept quiet during Warren’s spiel, seemed momentarily shocked. “I know your husband is backstage,” he told her, “but I still want to make out with you.”
It was performances like that one that helped propel Warren, a Harvard law professor who was then chairing the congressional panel that oversaw TARP, higher into the political firmament. And as Obama’s star waned in the eyes of many liberals, hers rose in inverse proportion. That the story Warren was telling seemed increasingly destined to end more as she’d feared than as she’d hoped only served to boost her standing. Warren’s remarkable powers of explanation—and her willingness, even eagerness, to take on Wall Street—were precisely the qualities that the president seemed to lack and precisely what so many liberals were yearning for. “What Liz can do, maybe better than anyone walking the Earth, is talk about financial markets and the complexities of our economic system in a language that people understand and that resonates with them,” says Jared Bernstein, a former economic adviser to Joe Biden.
Warren was so good at this that, although she was relegated to the fringes of the bureaucracy—first running the relatively toothless TARP PANEL and then advising Obama on getting the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau off the ground—she cut the public profile of a cabinet official. Stewart, Charlie Rose, and Bill Maher frequently invited her on their shows to talk about the economy; online petitions urging Obama to appoint her head of the CFPB garnered hundreds of thousands of signatures. Warren’s ubiquity became a sore spot for some Obama officials, who especially didn’t appreciate the fact that she was often as willing to criticize Democrats as Republicans. Her public grillings of Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner when he appeared before her TARP panel—“A.I.G. has received about $70 billion in TARP money, about $100 billion in loans from the Fed. Do you know where the money went?”—were political theater at its finest.
The result is that now, in large swathes of blue America, Warren’s star actually eclipses Obama’s. Her announcement in September that she would run for the U.S. Senate—that she would seek to take back the seat Scott Brown won in 2010—has been greeted by Democrats with the sort of passion and energy not seen since that heady night in Grant Park three Novembers ago. A grainy YouTube video of Warren speaking in a supporter’s living room became such a viral sensation that the Washington Post columnist E. J. Dionne Jr. deemed it “the declaration heard round the Internet world.” And while the presidential race is undoubtedly the most important election of 2012, Warren’s campaign is shaping up to be the most anticipated, as it affords liberals a chance to prove that the path that Obama pointedly did not take—the story he failed to tell for so long—can win at the ballot box.
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Photo: Pari Dukovic
Paramilitary Policing From Seattle to Occupy Wall Street
by Norm Stamper, The Nation
They came from all over, tens of thousands of demonstrators from around the world, protesting the economic and moral pitfalls of globalization. Our mission as members of the Seattle Police Department? To safeguard people and property—in that order. Things went well the first day. We were praised for our friendliness and restraint—though some politicians were apoplectic at our refusal to make mass arrests for the actions of a few.
Then came day two. Early in the morning, large contingents of demonstrators began to converge at a key downtown intersection. They sat down and refused to budge. Their numbers grew. A labor march would soon add additional thousands to the mix.
“We have to clear the intersection,” said the field commander. “We have to clear the intersection,” the operations commander agreed, from his bunker in the Public Safety Building. Standing alone on the edge of the crowd, I, the chief of police, said to myself, “We have to clear the intersection.”
Why?
Because of all the what-ifs. What if a fire breaks out in the Sheraton across the street? What if a woman goes into labor on the seventeenth floor of the hotel? What if a heart patient goes into cardiac arrest in the high-rise on the corner? What if there’s a stabbing, a shooting, a serious-injury traffic accident? How would an aid car, fire engine or police cruiser get through that sea of people? The cop in me supported the decision to clear the intersection. But the chief in me should have vetoed it. And he certainly should have forbidden the indiscriminate use of tear gas to accomplish it, no matter how many warnings we barked through the bullhorn.
My support for a militaristic solution caused all hell to break loose. Rocks, bottles and newspaper racks went flying. Windows were smashed, stores were looted, fires lighted; and more gas filled the streets, with some cops clearly overreacting, escalating and prolonging the conflict. The “Battle in Seattle,” as the WTO protests and their aftermath came to be known, was a huge setback—for the protesters, my cops, the community.
More than a decade later, the police response to the Occupy movement, most disturbingly visible in Oakland—where scenes resembled a war zone and where a marine remains in serious condition from a police projectile—brings into sharp relief the acute and chronic problems of American law enforcement. Seattle might have served as a cautionary tale, but instead, US police forces have become increasingly militarized, and it’s showing in cities everywhere: the NYPD “white shirt” coating innocent people with pepper spray, the arrests of two student journalists at Occupy Atlanta, the declaration of public property as off-limits and the arrests of protesters for “trespassing.”
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Photo: REUTERS/Kim White
They came from all over, tens of thousands of demonstrators from around the world, protesting the economic and moral pitfalls of globalization. Our mission as members of the Seattle Police Department? To safeguard people and property—in that order. Things went well the first day. We were praised for our friendliness and restraint—though some politicians were apoplectic at our refusal to make mass arrests for the actions of a few.
“We have to clear the intersection,” said the field commander. “We have to clear the intersection,” the operations commander agreed, from his bunker in the Public Safety Building. Standing alone on the edge of the crowd, I, the chief of police, said to myself, “We have to clear the intersection.”
Why?
Because of all the what-ifs. What if a fire breaks out in the Sheraton across the street? What if a woman goes into labor on the seventeenth floor of the hotel? What if a heart patient goes into cardiac arrest in the high-rise on the corner? What if there’s a stabbing, a shooting, a serious-injury traffic accident? How would an aid car, fire engine or police cruiser get through that sea of people? The cop in me supported the decision to clear the intersection. But the chief in me should have vetoed it. And he certainly should have forbidden the indiscriminate use of tear gas to accomplish it, no matter how many warnings we barked through the bullhorn.
My support for a militaristic solution caused all hell to break loose. Rocks, bottles and newspaper racks went flying. Windows were smashed, stores were looted, fires lighted; and more gas filled the streets, with some cops clearly overreacting, escalating and prolonging the conflict. The “Battle in Seattle,” as the WTO protests and their aftermath came to be known, was a huge setback—for the protesters, my cops, the community.
More than a decade later, the police response to the Occupy movement, most disturbingly visible in Oakland—where scenes resembled a war zone and where a marine remains in serious condition from a police projectile—brings into sharp relief the acute and chronic problems of American law enforcement. Seattle might have served as a cautionary tale, but instead, US police forces have become increasingly militarized, and it’s showing in cities everywhere: the NYPD “white shirt” coating innocent people with pepper spray, the arrests of two student journalists at Occupy Atlanta, the declaration of public property as off-limits and the arrests of protesters for “trespassing.”
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Photo: REUTERS/Kim White
Monday, November 14, 2011
From ‘Made in China’ to ‘Bought in China’
by J. Gabriel Boylan, Boston Globe
We read the phrase all the time, even if we’ve long since relegated it to the part of our brains that processes parental warning stickers or emergency-landing procedures: MADE IN CHINA.
China, for most of us in the West, is where things are manufactured, and here on the other side of the Pacific is where those things get bought. That organization of the world is a way to make sense of the big changes we see: America’s deindustrialization, the rise of our tech and service sectors, and China’s growing appetite for energy and resources. It is also a comfortable place to be: If you’re the world’s top consumer, then everyone else is worried about providing the things you want.
But what if the arrow were to turn, and China, brimming with a population of over 1.3 billion, started buying with a vengeance? What if China became the place that manufacturers looked for their cues?
That question is quickly turning from a what-if to a how-soon. Hundreds of millions of Chinese want the sorts of things we want — from televisions and washing machines to bottled water and organic food — and more and more of them are turning those wants into purchases. China’s annual consumer spending is now around $4 trillion; though still only half the US figure, it is already a bigger consumer economy than Japan and close to that of the European Union. China is now the world’s largest consumer in a number of categories, including beer, cigarettes, and — remarkably — cars. Some Western automakers have begun skipping US and European markets and debuting models in China first.
Karl Gerth, an East Asian studies professor at Oxford, has traveled to China many times in the past 25 years, building a body of research on China’s consumer history and habits. He has amassed data and interviewed colleagues and strangers alike about what they buy, what they’d like to buy, and how it’s all changed over the years. His latest book, “As China Goes, So Goes the World,” now out in paperback from Hill & Wang, documents China’s massive shift in lifestyle and spending.
Gerth draws a picture of a consumer culture that in some ways remains vastly different from the West’s. The state still plays a huge role in directing the manufacturing economy and prodding certain kinds of consumption. A long-held culture of saving means the Chinese are a long way from our comfort with credit and household debt. But some of the trends are familiar: Chains are spreading through the country; advertising is increasingly shaping consumer tastes across China’s diverse regions; golf and skiing, formerly the provinces only of the super-wealthy, have begun to attract middle-class fans. And as a token of prestige, the classic Chinese liquor Moatai is swiftly giving way to a taste for cognac.
Gerth spoke to Ideas from his home in Oxford, England.
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MARK RALSTON/AFP/Getty Images
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