A photo of the STEVE I saw last night. If you are reading this as an email, click the post title to see the image.
You have to chase the beautiful things sometimes. Be in the right place, have a bit of luck, being open to a bit of surprise.
On Sunday I was really sick with some kind of blow-through flu/cold that laid me out all weekend. But I managed to drag myself out of bed later in the day and get a walk in. One of my favourite walks on my home island takes me down a little road below my house that hugs the north shore of Mannion Bay above the waterfront houses and then leads into Miller’s Landing, where you can choose a couple of options for places to sit and look at the sea. For me, it was Miller’s Landing beach, which was deeply exposed for the super low tides we get at this time of year. When I got down to the little bench above the beach there was a family of four standing at the railing looking out to the water. I recognized the look of people who had just seen whales.
There’s a special stance that happens when whales appear near enough that you can hear them breathe. I always find myself standing up quickly, at attention, with a shiver down my spine, because there are very few sounds in my life as profoundly moving as the breath of a whale. I asked them if they were seeing whales and they said that a pod of 5 or 6 orcas had just passed by a few minutes before. They had rounded the point and were now out of sight. I congratulated them on their luck and secretly wept a little inside that I had just missed them.
However, last night I had a chance at the only other thing that makes me shiver like that. There has been a massive series of geomagnetic storms rocking the earth’s atmosphere over the past few days and that means we get a chance to see auroras. Even though at this time of year we don’t actually get a completely dark sky, if the auroras are bright enough, they still show up in June, and they never fail to make me stand in profound awe.
I went out to my favourite spot with a view looking straight northward up Átl’ka7tsem/Howe Sound. Last night there were auroras, but they were fairly diffuse; a quiet green glow arcing across the head of our inlet far off to the north. Still beautiful, though. I watched them for a while wondering if it would dark enough to see any structure or movement. I was fixated on the diffuse glow, and the sounds of sea lions splashing in the dark sea below me. Nothing else was happening and so I lifted my gaze to see if I could see some planets, just in time to see a STEVE stretching across the sky. And I got that same feeling – stood at attention, chills running down my spine, watching a ribbon of super hot ions for 10 minutes stretch across the upper atmosphere hundreds of kilometres above my head.
STEVE is a phenomenon that accompanies geomagnetic storms, but is not the same as an aurora. As Aurorasaurus.com puts it, “if the ambient aurora was a symphony, STEVE would crash in with an electric guitar riff.”
STEVE has only recently been identified and scientists still don’t know exactly what they are, but it’s possible you’ve seen them. They stretch from east to west across the sky, further south than the aurora typically does. It’s not obvious what they are when you see them. The one I saw last night stretched right over my head at 49 degrees north, while the aurora appeared far away over the northern horizon. This is the second time I have positively seen a STEVE, the first time being probably 2017 or 2018 when I stepped out onto a friends deck during a party and saw what looked like a narrow concentrated band of the aurora overhead stretching away to the west. It didn’t make sense that there was no other aural activity so I thought it might be just a high cloud or a contrail illuminated by the moon and perhaps the lingering twilight. But then it began to dance and twist like the aurora. My friends at first didn’t believe me when I told them it was up there, but they were soon convinced and a whole party of people that had been dancing and carrying on stopped and grew silent at the appearance of this strange river of light flowing above us into the western sky.
I love those moments of awe. I never get used to seeing whales and auroras. And STEVE.
It’s undeniable that in the time I have been publishing on the web (and before that on usenet and bbs’ dating back to 1992) we have seen a shift from protocols to platforms. Back in the day, people made protocols so we could all talk to each other, regardless of the platforms we used to do it. The web today runs on these protocols, which allows us to use all kinds of different platforms to communicate. Think email. We all use different email programs, but when I send a message, it gets to you regardless.
The enclosure of the commons that I wrote about last year is the fundamental shift in the way we communicate and talk to each other. It creates walled gardens of activity that regulates what happens inside and which limits connection to the outside world. I used to be able to publish my blog posts directly to Facebook for example, but that functionality was removed a long time ago. Facebook will not allow users in Canada to post hypertext links to media sites, which is a pretty reliable indicator that they want to own the web and not participate in it. Platforms limit possibilities and are driven by control. Protocols open up possibilities and enable self-organization and emergence.
Mike Masnick’s paper on Protocols,Not Platforms traces this history very well and makes these arguments for focusing on protocols that “would bring us back to the way the internet used to be.”
I came to Mesnick’s paper after reading an article in the New Yorker about J Graber and her involvement with Bluesky. I was struck at the parallels between the work I do with social technologies and the work that people are doing around social network technologies. When I first got into working as a facilitator, I focused on large group work (and I still do) and my focus was on the platforms of Open Space Technology and later World Café and Appreciative Inquiry and other methods of large group interventions.
These methods for large group dialogue are platforms, but what underlines them our protocols of organization and facilitation the protocol I use is the Art of Hosting, a simple four fold practice, which is applicable to a variety of contexts from meetings to structuring organizations to planning large scale change work. The art of hosting is a protocol that enables more collaboration, more creation, and more resilience among individuals and groups who are leaning into complexity and uncertainty.
On Friday, I’m going to talk about this more and I think I will use the Protocols, Not Platforms idea as the way to talk about how we do change work, and you could join us. The organizational development world is besotted with methods, and a good method for the right need is a good thing. All methods are context bound, however, so to really make change in complex domains, one need to be aware of the context for the work and rely on a context-free protocol to help engage and work. So if you join in on Friday you will learn about how context matters, how complex contexts in particular are composed, the simple protocol for working in complexity that is rooted in the four fold practice, and then maybe some stories of using methods that fit the need.
It’s a snow day here on Nexwlelexwm/Bowen Island. After a couple of weeks of clear warms weather, winter seems to have finally gotten around to giving us a little blast of snow and cold. we’re looking at a week or so of colder than normal temperatures on the back of these squally snow events we’ve been having for the past twelve hours.
After shovelling and salting the driveway, wrapping my water pump in a blanket and checking the heat tape on the pipes, I settled in to watch soccer and catch up on local news. It’s been 24 hours of utter chaos at the continental level, so I turned to The Undercurrent, our local newspaper to see what’s happening.
I realize that had missed this story: “New names chosen for Bowen beaches“:
A pair of Bowen beaches will be receiving new names in the coming months.
The two destinations set to change names are Crayola Beach in the Bluewater neighbourhood and Pebble Beach at Cape Roger Curtis. They’ll be known as Xéla7an and Smí7mant Áyalhkw respectively going forward, drawing their new names from the Squamish language. The initiative is a result of a Bowen Island Parks Plan recommendation for collaboration with Squamish Nation, and a means to clear up some practical issues with the current names…
Aaron Williams, a language specialist with Squamish Nation, provided the guidance for the new names. Joined by his mother and cousin, the three came to Bowen last fall and met with manager of environment and parks planning Carla Skuce to explore the beaches in question.
This is fantastic. It follows on the heels of a ceremony held in 2020 to officially add “Nexwlelxwm” to the island’s welcome gateway, and I’m thrilled that Aaron and Vanessa came over to do this work. The two names came to Aaron and Vanessa on their visits to the beaches.
The first beach they visited is at Cape Roger Curtis and is known as “Pebble Beach” which confuses it with “Pebbly Beach” located on the opposite side of the island.
“One of the main things we noticed at this beach is that there were lots of little pebbles, it was like somebody went in there and dumped tons and tons of tiny little pebbles, and you could tell they were all rounded from the ocean… that was a very huge indicator for this name,” said Williams as he presented the new names to council last month.
“It was very striking to see that… this indicated this beach was very untouched and unscathed from development, which was very beautiful to see,” added Williams. As a result he felt Smí7mant Áyalhkw – translated to ‘place of pebbles’ – appropriately reflected the setting of the beach, a “reference to the wonderful state and condition that the beach is in.”
My best shot at providing a useful pronunciation of this name is “SMEH-munt EYE-alk.” In Squamish the “7” is a glottal stop and the “lh” sound is pronounced like the “tl” in the word “Atlanta” except a bit softer. The k in “Áyalhkw” is actually underlined, by that character doesn’t show up in my typeface. It’s sounded deep in the throat and the the w indicates that you make the sound with rounded lips. But “SMEH-munt EYE-alk” is a good starting point!
Further north on Bowen’s west side the group visited Crayola Beach, occasionally known as Bluewater Beach. Aaron’s mother Vanessa noticed red markings left by water tides on rock banks and bluffs. This brought forward memories of petroglyphs, a form of communication where messages are created through a technique of marking rocks.
“It was something that really stood out to her, and reminded her of our old way of educating the future through the petroglyphs,” explained Aaron. This led to the name Xéla7an, which means ‘marked/coloured on the cheek/side’.
That name – actually spelt with an underlined X – could be pronounced HEL-ah-un. The “HEL” should be pronounced with a guttural sound like you’re saying “Chutzpah” in Yiddish.
It’s amazing to have these two new names for features on our island. Great work and much appreciation to our Council, Carla, and to Aaron and Vanessa.
Interesting links that crossed my path this month. You can find these in real time at my Mastodon site, which is also mirrored on Bluesky.
- One of the most significant pieces of work I am currently doing is helping the Squamish Nation develop their Constitution by supporting large in-person and online community gatherings. It’s hard work and important work for the Nation, and I’m really happy to be a part of it. I get to work with the inimitable Amanda Fenton who supports the online work and Squamish Nation member Tyler Baker, who is my in person partner when we work at two different sites simultaneously.
- BC Child Poverty Rate Climbs as Income Inequality Grows: Policy Note. Child poverty is unacceptable, especially as we learned it can be nearly eliminated by a small universal basic income. The pandemic supports helped us to see something I will never be able to unsee: this challenge is possible to address, and quickly.
- The science and natural history of the fault zones of the west coast of North America. We live in a very active landscape.
- If you want to understand the complexities and nuances of life in British Columbia in 2024, this collection of books from The Tyee is a grand place to start.
- I met Lightning Bill Austin selling his art in the Pybus Market in Wenatchee, Washington this month. An absolute legend. Here’s his story.
- Contemporary Poets Respond (in Verse) to Taylor Swift: Perhaps the most inventive way to celebrate and honour Taylor Swift’s work and her impact on the world.
- This is the year-end summary of the highlights from EV Nautilus, a research vessel that explores and studies the geology and fauna of deep-water sea mounts. I love this channel because it is populated with scientists who show nothing but utter delight in seeing the creatures that they love. I’ve shared this link on my out of office responder this month.
- There’s No Place Like Home: Humanity and the Housing Crisis from CBC Ideas. Calling for housing to be a human right should not feel like the Quixotic quest that it appears to be. This is a fantastic lecture even if it leaves me deflated by the challenge.
- The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. The whole thing. Online and searchable.
- Dave Pollard writes a great piece on “What We Don’t Know.” The undermining of expertise by folks who think they can hold their weight with people who have devoted their lives to fields of study and practice is ridiculous and dangerous.
- The Cosmos Teems with Complex Organic Molecules.Reading Stuart Kauffman’s work (especially Reinventing the Sacred) will also make it clear how inevitable organic chemistry is and how easy it is for the processes of life to get started.
- Narrative jailbreaking for fun and profit! Matt Webb and a chatbot hallucinate together. (And I suspect the chatbot has discovered Matt’s blog!)
- Tangerine is my new favourite Christmas movie.
- There is a reason that we don’t do icebreakers in meetings. Check-ins, yes, but disconnected icebreakers? No. McSweeney’s gets it.
Happy New Year to all.
Confirmed yet again that the way to build community, and indeed strengthen participatory and democratic societies is to do work together.
Peter Levine, who I feel like everyone should read, has a nice little blog post today that serves as a bit of a gateway to his own research and thoughts on this topic. Here’s his basic thesis:
People are more likely to trust institutions if they are involved in diverse, participatory groups, because such participation gives them a feeling of agency, teaches them that compromise is necessary (it’s not a sign that leaders are corrupt), and encourages them to share and critically assess information.
A few times this past year I have been in situations that have borne out this reality, for better or worse. For example working with folks in different places on the opioid crisis, for example, it is clear to me that folks can come together across all kinds of ideological differences if there is actual work in the centre to do. Grappling with the realities of governance, community building, the provision of services and policy making is edifying work. It’s hard, and requires relationship and commitment. Everyone has opinions about things, but rolling your sleeves up and getting to work is where relationships and therefore community is built.
It has been true for a while, but community engagement – the traditional “ask the people what they think” kind – is now clearly a dead end way to make things happen. Polling drives policy and as a result you get truly stupid decisions that don’t at all improve life for people but rather just keep the voters electing populists to power. Simplify problems, seed the population with simple platitudes and memes, convince them that “your guy” has the answers and then poll them on the results.
Trust in democratic institutions, a key theme of Peter’s work, is undermined by this approach to community. People don’t believe polls (except the analytics folks working for parties that shape narrative as keenly as marketers working with personalized market segmentations – see what I mean?) and people don;t believe in surveys either. A recent survey in my home community of 5000 people had 250 returns, to which a suspicious refrain of Facebook amongst folks with zero statsitics backgrounds was “That’s all? How can they make decisions based on such a paltry sample.”
The exercise of engagement is often window dressing. It can result in hundreds and hundreds of text answers on qualitative surveys that have no rhyme nor reason to them. Comments like “fix the potholes on Elm Street” don’t mean anything without context, even if a bunch of people say them. And worse still when you ask people how to make the neighbourhood safer, you will be stuck with all manner of opinion and regurgitated talking points fed to folks who know nothing about sociology, criminology, policing or urban design. The value of the content is nil. The value of the exercise is “we consulted with the community and decided to fix the pot holes on Elm Street as a way of solving the problem of community safety.” And so leaders do what they want.
Election success now is about saying you will do a thing, then doing something and successfully externalizing all the bits that didn’t work so you can take credit for the small thing you did. If people buy what you are selling, you will get re-elected. It’s easier just to say vacuous things like “Axe the Tax, Build the Homes and Bring it on Home” over and over and over and over again until people get so sick of you that they elect you to office just to shut you up. From there, you meet the realities of governing, and memes and slogans won;t get you through.
But there are ways out of this state of affairs. On the decision-making side I think we should be investing heavily in citizen assemblies, such as the one currently underway in Saanich and Victoria which is exploring how to merge two cities. These bodies, in which citizens are chosen at random and enter into a learning journey together to understand the issues at play and recommend courses of action. My friend and colleague Aftab Erfan has recently written about the results and potential of citizen assemblies to do proper engagement which honours democratic and participatory principles and generates meaningful accountability for elected leaders in using their power.
And, back to Peter Levine’s work, I believe there is a tremendous potential in the approach of shared work that he advocates above. Some of the most engaging work I have done has included Participatory Narrative Inquiry approaches, which help people gather, listen to and make sense of each other’s stories as they seek openings and affordances for taking action on complex topics. The process itself builds the social connectivity that builds the basis for collaboration and community. It complexities the work of building things like justice (which Peter has a lot to say on) and helps us to understand that there is no single authority that can deliver the perfect outcome in a society.
Democratic societies thrive where there are democratic institutions that help stabilize the conditions that create freedom and diversity of association, participation and contribution. We are entering a period of dire outlook for this kind of rich ecosystem of collaboration. Get out there and make things together with others.