About Marc Hummel

Marc Hummel is a copywriter for a large company in West Chester you've always known about but haven't thought about in awhile. He holds a B.A. in English from Rutgers University and is pursuing a graduate degree in Communications and Business Strategy at Temple University. Marc lives in the Rittenhouse Square neighborhood of Philadelphia, a city he has called home since 2006. He shares his apartment with his girlfriend, small dog, a good amount of handmade furniture and a lot of clothes. 

 Marc enjoys music, non-fiction books, Woody Allen, listening to NPR, trying new restaurants and drinking hoppy beers. Read press stories about Marc Hummel here. Marc's other hobbies include coffee snobbery and trying new recipes. His guilty pleasures include ice cream, spreadsheets and attending a lecture at the Free Library followed by a visit to T.G.I. Friday’s.

Lost potential

subway

The past ten years have been an exceptionally big waste of human potential. (And I’d probably extend my assertion back even further if I knew more about world history.)

But since the financial crisis of 2008, access to capital (for governments or private companies) has been incredibly cheap and plentiful. Yet we haven’t invested significantly in public infrastructure, despite more than a decade worth of promises and proclamations. Elon Musk is one of the few people in the public sphere willing to make spectacular bets. (Or perhaps he’s just better at PR than his fellow crazy billionaires.)

If you want a hint of what this lack of investment feels like, just go for a ride on the NYC subway. Most of the cars and stations are living monuments to a time when we thought it was OK to spend money on big, crazy projects—like digging a gazillion tunnels underground and figuring out how to wire them with enough electricity to move a few thousand pounds of steel and flesh 100 miles under a river, 24/7. Part of me thinks that it’s great that these cars are old! It shows that good ol’ fashioned steel (not plastic!) can stand the test of time.

But the system isn’t keeping up with demand. The cars are packed with commuters and delays are the norm. The personal inconveniences I face every morning aren’t what I’m concerned about here; I do OK. My $2.75 subway ride is usually 20-30 minutes and everyone in my workplace faces the same delays and frustrations.

But every morning, I wonder what the subway could be like, and how that would make life more pleasant for the hundreds of thousands of NY commuters. It might encourage more investment or sway a few people from leaving the city. It could also start restoring people’s faith in public institutions, demonstrate that organizations can respond to change, create dynamic plans based on measurable objectives, and deliver some degree of improvement.

I suppose this is why it’s more fashionable to point to dictators as a desirable way of running a government. “What has democracy done for me, lately,” one might wonder.

I don’t endorse this selfish view of a sprawling and complex system like our democracy, which was designed to deliver a slow pace of change. But is it unreasonable? To hope for a different way, when the current trajectory and recent examples don’t make it likely that our institutions will rise to the challenge and deliver the things people want?

I don’t want to pass too much of the blame to social media; it’s an easy out. But Facebook and Twitter are really good at clustering people into like-minded groups, then feeding them niche stories that are likely to foster “engagement” (i.e. make them mad). It’s not even that the content is hyper-partisan or even false. The harm is in the curation. We don’t get a balanced daily media diet when so much of our news comes from social media. And that means we’re all the more likely to see the stories that push our buttons and offend our beliefs, which pushes us further away from each other, and further away from imagining a different way.

There’s a lot I’m leaving out here. I don’t have a conclusion. I’m just trying to flesh out my thoughts. Perhaps I’ll return to this topic on another day.

[photo cred]

You are what you consume: Facebook v. Twitter

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You are what you read, watch, and listen to. The content you consume changes how you think about the world, and determines what topics you’re aware of and concerned about. Over the past century, countless thinkers have explored this idea, and from a variety of perspectives.

McLuhan focused on the media type (i.e. books vs. television), and asserted that the medium through which content is delivered changes how the content is encoded by the creator, and decoded by the recipient. More recently, Nicholas Carr argued that ways digital media affects our ability to focus and follow complicated arguments. Eli Pariser coined the term filter bubble to describe the way social media is designed to show us content we already agree with—clustering us into like-minded groups infrequently exposed to ideas that challenge our existing attitudes and beliefs.

But what if social media, the same technology that helped create today’s highly polarized political environment, could be used to reverse the trend? What if you could assemble a custom feed of diverse thinkers representing an eclectic range of voices from across the political spectrum, or whichever thing you’re into. And since your thoughts are influenced by the content you consume, this could help your thinking be more inclusive of a range of views. It’s a personalized news feed more directly curated by you, rather than Facebook’s engagement algorithms.

That’s how I use Twitter. I follow an eclectic mix of artists, journalists, comedians, entrepreneurs and startup influencers, and political thinkers from both sides. When I open my Twitter homepage, I’m exposed to views I agree with and those I do not. It’s a way to take me out of my bubble every once and awhile, and remind me that “the other side” often has good points to make and  deeply held beliefs to defend.

I suppose I could use Facebook to achieve a similar result. But in my experience, this isn’t how that service is used. Facebook is more for private, personal news and achievements; people seem to be acutely self-conscious when posting there. Twitter is more free-form, public, and informal. Twitter starts with the assumption that you’ll follow people you might not know (i.e. famous people); Facebook is based on precisely the opposite premise.

And really, you could achieve this type of thought diversity by reading different books, picking up magazines from “the other side” every once and awhile, etc. But the cost of engagement is lower on Twitter; all you have to do is click the “follow” button.

Why I use a VPN (most of the time)

Control keyShort answer:

I’m paranoid and easily impressionable

Long answer:

Earlier this year, Congress voted to repeal rules that restricted ISPs like Comcast, Verizon, and T-Mobile from selling information about the websites you visit. (Go here for a good overview courtesy of The Verge.)

I don’t have anything to hide; my internet history is basically just Twitter, New York Times, Amazon, and a few banks. But it’s not about whether or not you have something to hide. When combined with other publicly available data and information companies can buy about me (i.e. credit report, job history, location of home and work), my web browsing history can convey a fairly robust and accurate picture of my life.

It’s just another way we lose a bit of our privacy (and ourselves) to private corporations, so they can better target us with stuff to buy. Using a VPN is a way to get back a bit of control back.

How a VPN protects your privacy

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A typical internet connection links your device up right to your ISP’s infrastructure.

When you connect to the internet via VPN, there’s a middleman that encrypts all traffic to and from your ISP. This means that your data is anonymous to your ISP, and certain information your browser automatically shares with other websites are anonymized, too.

Why I said I use a VPN “most of the time”

I always use my VPN when on public wi-fi. Even if the coffee shop wi-fi is protected by a password, it’s super easy for a bad guy to steal your logins and passwords. (Learn more here.)

At home, my internet connection isn’t usually fast enough to support a VPN connection. But if you have a normal internet situation (i.e. cable internet) you probably won’t even notice a speed difference.

How VPNs work:

You can add a VPN in your device settings. Most VPN services come with their own apps, that make setting everything up super easy.

I use PureVPN, which has apps for Mac and iPhone. I tried another service, but it didn’t work as reliably as PureVPN. It’s usually $11/month, but they’re having a promo now for an annual subscription for $80.

From “War of the Worlds” to Benghazi

A recent article by Adrian Chen about fake news in the New Yorker begins with my favorite myth: That a 1938 radio broadcast of Orson Welles’s *War of the Worlds* caused a mass panic. (It very likely did not.)

Next, Chen pivots to a more contemporary concern about the truthfulness of news content: the election of Trump, and Facebook/Twitter’s role in it. Much has been written about this topic. (Here are some of my favorites: Stratechery, Nieman Lab, Wired, Bloomberg).

What the hot takes I’ve read so far seem to miss is that we’re looking at this as a computer science problem. That is, since technology created the problem, it can fix it, too.

Chen:

It’s possible, though, that this approach comes with its own form of myopia. Neil Postman, writing a couple of decades ago, warned of a growing tendency to view people as computers, and a corresponding devaluation of the “singular human capacity to see things whole in all their psychic, emotional and moral dimensions.” A person does not process information the way a computer does, flipping a switch of “true” or “false.” One rarely cited Pew statistic shows that only four per cent of American Internet users trust social media “a lot,” which suggests a greater resilience against online misinformation than overheated editorials might lead us to expect. Most people seem to understand that their social-media streams represent a heady mixture of gossip, political activism, news, and entertainment. You might see this as a problem, but turning to Big Data-driven algorithms to fix it will only further entrench our reliance on code to tell us what is important about the world—which is what led to the problem in the first place. Plus, it doesn’t sound very fun.

As Chen explains later in the piece, automated solutions to the “fake news problem” also lend themselves to manipulation (i.e. people reporting news they don’t like as fake) and claims of bias directed toward the tech company themselves.

While I agree with the dangers of automated solutions to the fake news problem, I think the tech-rooted discussion also miss a larger issue with social media and the ways it’s changing how we interact with the world: the algorithms themselves, and the *types* of news they promote.

Facebook and Twitter are optimized for engagement, which is a bias that affects what you see when you use those platforms.

Alexis C. Madrigal:

Facebook’s draw is its ability to give you what you want. Like a page, get more of that page’s posts; like a story, get more stories like that; interact with a person, get more of their updates. The way Facebook determines the ranking of the News Feed is the probability that you’ll like, comment on, or share a story. Shares are worth more than comments, which are both worth more than likes, but in all cases, the more likely you are to interact with a post, the higher up it will show in your News Feed. Two thousand kinds of data (or “features” in the industry parlance) get smelted in Facebook’s machine-learning system to make those predictions.

Spreading false information on the platform itself is a problem that has a feasible solution. But the larger effects Madrigal talks about are the more worrisome ones, and have far less obvious answers.