Well-run libraries are filled with people because what a good library offers cannot be easily found elsewhere: an indoor public space in which you do not have to buy anything in order to stay. In the modern state there are very few sites where this is possible. The only others that come readily to my mind require belief in an omnipotent creator as a condition for membership. It would seem the most obvious thing in the world to say that the reason why the market is not an efficient solution to libraries is because the market has no use for a library. But it seems we need, right now, to keep re-stating the obvious. There aren’t many institutions left that fit so precisely Keynes’s definition of things that no one else but the state is willing to take on. Nor can the experience of library life be recreated online. It’s not just a matter of free books. A library is a different kind of social reality (of the three dimensional kind), which by its very existence teaches a system of values beyond the fiscal.from The North West London Blues - Zadie Smith
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
A video that I should watch every morning
Addendum: and let's not forget the great Husky Power video!
at 12:03 AM
Friday, November 23, 2012
Here's one passage that really touched me. Even though it's about a slum district in Nairobi, I feel like these words could easily apply to our ger districts as well. Perhaps this is an indication of the scope of his perspective that allowed him to distill the universal from a particular observation.
They go, either tempted by the mirage of employment, or frightened by an epidemic that has suddenly broken out nearby, or evicted by the owners of the clay huts and verandas, whom they were unable to pay for the space they occupied. Everything in their life is temporary, fluid, and frail. It exists and it doesn't exist. Even if it does exist—then for how long? This eternal uncertainty causes my neighbors to live in a perpetual state of alert, of unabating fear. They fled the poverty of the countryside and made their way to the city in the hope tha,t life would be better for them here. Those who succeeded in tracking down a cousin could count on some support, some help getting started. But many of these former peasants did not find any of their relations, or any fellow tribesmen. Often, they didn't even understand the language being spoken in the streets, didn't know how to ask about anything. Still, the force of the city absorbed them, its life became their only world, and by the next day already they were unable to extricate themselves from it."My Alleyway, 1967" from Ryszard Kapuściński's The Shadow of the Sun
The passage also reminded me of this another brilliant point by Edward Glaeser. Especially when discussing the issues of ger districts, it is essential to understand that those people are here because they find relatively better conditions in the cities. I wish the public discourse in Mongolia would explicitly acknowledge this fact.
The basic point here is that cities don’t make people poor. They attract poor people with economic opportunity, with a better social safety net, the ability to get around without a car for every adult. People are moving for a reason. It’s a terrible thing that there are so many poor people in the world, but it’s not a terrible thing that they have come to cities to try and make their lives better.Edward Glaeser - Triumph of the PPP: A Leading Urban Economist on Risks and Rewards
Or perhaps those people who discriminate recent migrants should read more carefully what the great David Simon recently said,
So what am I saying? Do you all need to move to Baltimore, or Mogadishu, or Karachi and flagellate yourselves because you happened to be born and raised and educated in better circumstance? Of course not. That’s not what this is about. No one’s asking for cheap, useless guilt here. No, this is about empathy, about a shared sense of humanity, about – and here it comes again – responsibility.
at 12:21 PM
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
And in this way, I began to think, our libraries perhaps say nothing very particular about us at all. Each brick in the wall of a library is a borrowed brick: several thousand people, perhaps several hundred thousand, own books by F. E. Peters. If I were led into Edmund Wilson's library in Talcotville, would I know what it was Edmund Wilson's library, and not Alfred Kazin's or F. W. Dupee's? We tend to venerate libraries once we know whose they are, like admiring a famous philosopher's eyes or a ballet dancer's foot.
at 2:51 PM