Sunday, October 31, 2021

Digital minimalism



Academic work, and especially writing, requires focus and perseverance. According to Cal Newport, author of Deep Work (2017) and Digital Minimalism (2019), these are two abilities that have become increasingly rare in the 2010s. In a single decade, smartphones and social media have fundamentally changed people’s behavior. Most people spend many hours every day on their phones. Hence, according to Newport, being one of those who do not represents a great competitive advantage. The value of focus and perseverance has never been greater. 

The behaviors he opposes are not particularly difficult to explain. Several of the most highly valued companies globally now operate in the so-called “attention economy.” Their business model is that as many people as possible should spend as much time as possible on their particular platform. The more screen time, the more revenue. As a result, these products are designed to encourage and maintain specific behaviors. It’s no coincidence that feeds follow the same principle as a slot machine. Hit refresh, perhaps there’s an update? Or a like showing that someone notices you. 

I have experienced this myself every Tuesday during this year when I have advertised my weekly blog posts on Facebook and Twitter. It’s very difficult, not to say impossible, not to check how this week’s post is doing. Any likes? Any comments? How many readers this week compared to the one before? This is not a good recipe for maintaining focus and exhibiting perseverance. The good stuff is always a click away. The sense of unpredictability only makes it more attractive. Email may have the exact same function. Because who knows what’s to be found in the inbox? 

Newport’s two books offer practical strategies for managing the state we’re in full of distractions. The core of these books is “intentionalism.” In other words, we ourselves need to figure out how we want to use different digital technologies and develop a “digital philosophy” serving as our foundation. Based on this, we may then establish personal rules regarding what, when, how much and in which ways we want to use different platforms. Unless we do this, we will probably spend more time on these than we really want to. A quick glance easily turns into 15 minutes of lazy surfing. A few chips easily turn into an empty bag. 

But how do you figure out how you want to live in this regard? As a first step, Newport recommends uninstalling everything and spending 30 days offline. After that, you may make well-considered decisions on what, when, how and how much. Which platforms and features offer value and quality of life? Which do not? Is it possible to get everything I want out of Facebook by using it for 30 minutes every Wednesday night? Do I need Instagram? Is it sufficient that I only check my inbox after lunch? 

The answers to these questions are not given. They differ from individual to individual. As far as I am concerned, however, I don’t find these problems particularly difficult at work. Here, I’m pretty good at setting the timer on my phone to 40 minutes, carrying out my unit followed by a break. In the lunchroom, I rarely have a strong need to check my cellphone or send a text message. At home, however, I find this more difficult. Here, it’s much more common that I do the things I don’t want to do (email after office hours, scroll through Facebook or Twitter). Perhaps it’s time to hide the phone and have a few days offline? 

In fact, my wife and I actually tried this during the summer. We both read Digital Minimalism and decided to fully try out this concept for a certain period of time. Among other things, this includes scheduling social time. So, when the kids went to sleep at night, going to bed or reading a book was not an option for us. We should talk even if we were tired! The experiment was quite successful. We managed three weeks offline and these were three lovely weeks. In particular, we appreciated going to playgrounds and on family excursions without bringing a cellphone. We felt so free. Nothing could disturb us. We ourselves decided what we wanted our vacation to look like. This is why we also continued using this “technique” in the fall. When the whole family is going to do something together, we frequently leave our cellphones at home. I hope we will continue to do so!

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Sunday, October 24, 2021

Co-writing: Part 3




The third person with whom I co-wrote in the spring of 2016 was Johan Östling. We knew each other well, although not nearly as well as we do now. At this time, we had worked together for a couple of years to introduce and develop the history of knowledge in the Nordics. Johan was a research director. I was a postdoc and funded through his project. Hence, this writing project differed from the ones I was engaged in with Isak Hammar (part 1) and Anna Kaijser (part 2). The stakes were higher. I really didn’t want to botch this. At the same time, I experienced a great deal of safety. If there was one article I was certain would be of high quality and flow smoothly through the peer-review process, it was this one. 

The article we wrote concerned “circulation.” It was a theoretical, historiographical and conceptual text. It thus differed from everything I had written thus far. There was no firm empirical core. As a result, our writing efforts began with a broad reading of secondary literature, especially history of science literature. The key text was James Secord’s “Knowledge in Transit” (2004), but we moved across broad fields: early modern global history of science, history of popular science and Swiss-style history of knowledge. Much of this was new to me, and I felt that I would need a long time getting ready to write. 

However, Johan soon said that we should get started. I trusted his judgment, so we sat down, discussed our ideas and drafted a synopsis. We then divided up the parts and started writing. It went surprisingly smoothly. A coherent text started to take shape, and I felt that I learned a lot during the course of writing. I wasn’t used to working like this. I typically needed much more time to get started. 

Nevertheless, we finished our manuscript. We asked a couple of colleagues to read it, reworked it a bit and then sent it to Historisk tidskrift (HT). At the end of the semester, Johan suggested that we should translate it into English and submit it to Journal of Modern History. No sooner said than done. I felt that my research existence had moved up a gear. Was it really possible to work this quickly? 

The months passed, and one day we received the comments from HT. One reviewer was positive and one was very negative. I don’t recall the exact wording, but it started something like this: “This is an ambitious article aiming for the stars. These can be very good or very bad. This is the latter.” The editor expressed regret about the comment and said that the article could not be accepted. However, we were given the chance to cut it by half and have it published as an essay. Spontaneously, we felt that this was out of the question. We had submitted a really good, well-written article serving as a significant contribution to general history (in our view!). Surely, we couldn’t cut it in half and turn it into some lightweight essay… 

But after having looked it over with fresh eyes the following day, this was exactly what we did. Pride is to be swallowed and the tough reviewer had clearly made some good points. In addition, we were keen to get our ideas out quickly and not wait for another six months to – perhaps – publish the text in another journal. In the spring of 2017, the essay “Cirkulation – ett kunskapshistoriskt nyckelbegrepp” was thus published. 

We also encountered difficulties in Journal of Modern History. But not at all for the same reasons. We received a “revise and resubmit,” but our revision received some severe criticism (especially the parts I had been responsible for revising). However, this was not the end of the story. At the same time as all this was going on, we had initiated a Nordic edited volume project: Circulation of Knowledge (2018). This needed an introduction and there were a few things here and there that we could use from our failed article project. We wouldn’t have been able to do so had our text been “under publication” in Journal of Modern History. Failing there thus turned out to be something positive. We managed to publish the most important elements in the text in a book that was open access and which – it would turn out – ended up being read by people from all over the world. Our text ended up placing the history of knowledge environment in Lund on the world map, and Johan was invited to Washington DC, Cambridge, Sydney, Paris… 

At the same time, we were, once again, fully engaged in writing applications. Here as well, the text we had written proved useful. We were soundly rejected by a large number of funding bodies, but we did get a positive reply from the Ridderstad Foundation. In addition, Johan went on to the next stage with an ERC application, which was to a large extent based on our English circulation text. He eventually didn’t make it across the finish line, but the same text was useful when he later had the opportunity to apply to become a Wallenberg Academy Fellow. Here, he hit the bull’s eye. 

What I want to illustrate with all this is that some of the texts we write circulate in many different ways. They turn into publications, applications, successes and failures. In hindsight, things may seem obvious, but in the middle of the process, it’s impossible to know what is what. It is thus important to keep moving, trying to notice opportunities and not being too depressed when things fail. Because they will. Even when working with Johan Östling. However, and as I have pointed out in previous posts in this series, all this is much easier to handle when you’re writing together with someone else. In such a case, adversities don’t feel personal. And success is better when shared.

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Sunday, October 17, 2021

Win some, lose some




At around 3 p.m. yesterday, the Bank of Sweden Tercentenary Foundation published its decisions for this year regarding which projects and programs are to receive funding. The majority of applications were rejected as early as this spring. Of the ones remaining, about half would be given funding. As for me, I had two opportunities in relation to the same research idea. Both in the form of an individual project and in the context of a large program. On paper, my chances were good. But, as we all know, probabilities and outcomes are two different things. 

An hour or so after lunch, I received the first announcement. My individual project was rejected. The two experts offered similar criticisms in their opinions, but they reached different conclusions. One recommended the project, while the other had “mixed feelings” but argued that it should be rejected. When reading the comments, feelings of emptiness washed over me. Followed by a nagging feeling of doubt. In myself and in the project. 

At the same time as I frequently updated the Bank of Sweden Tercentenary Foundation website, I also tried to get some work done. That didn’t go so well. And for each update, it felt as if my chances decreased. There was not much left of the confidence I had experienced that morning. I saw a long series of future rejections before my eyes. After a while, I emailed the comments to my wife and started to process them over the phone. In the middle of a discussion on how I could improve my application next spring, Johan Östling came downstairs and congratulated me. Jenny Andersson’s program Neoliberalism in the Nordics: Developing an Absent Theme had been accepted! 33.1 million Swedish kronor! Six years! 

The meaning of this has not yet begun to sink in. It will probably be a while. On a personal level, it’s obviously tremendous that several years of research have been secured. However, a research program of this magnitude means so much more. It offers an almost unique opportunity for academics to work together on major and challenging issues. The kind that, in individual projects, you often have to be content with “highlighting” or “offering perspectives on.” In addition, the research group gathered by Jenny is impressive. It’s extremely inspiring to get the opportunity to be part of this context. I will surely learn a lot! 

So, what am I going to research? Well, something completely different from what I am now writing a monograph on. The new project concerns the profound transformation of the Swedish savings and investment culture over the past four decades. What I will primarily focus on is the popularization of stock saving and the circulation of financial knowledge. My primary empirical entry is the Swedish Shareholders’ Association, whose archives have recently been deposited at the Centre for Business History in Stockholm. In the project, I will also analyze the emergence of the phenomenon known as FIRE (financial independence, retire early). That is to say, living extremely frugally and investing in stocks or index funds in order to be able to quit your job in your thirties or forties and live the rest of your life on capital gains and dividends. 

There is always a special feeling involved in taking aim at a new research area and it’s certainly a bit scary. I feel at home in the environmental debate of the late 1960s. With regard to the financial culture of the 1980s, however, I am a novice. But there is obviously also an appeal in this. As an academic, I find not knowing to be the most exciting part of research. Because that is the phase when you get to experience discoveries and insights more frequently! 

But, of course, feeling at home is not a bad feeling either. And Hans Palmstierna’s correspondence is captivating. Good thing I still have some writing left to do!

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Sunday, October 10, 2021

What to do when things get busy?



Regardless of how well you plan, there are periods when things get busy. Mid-October is a typical such period. I obviously have no idea what your calendars look like, but mine is filled to the brim. There are conferences, workshops, various deadlines and commitments. In addition, there are some major and important announcements I am waiting for. Of course, I’m unable to do anything about these. Nevertheless, it’s difficult not to think about them. 

When the calendar starts to fill up, there are two things that are typically neglected: time for planning and physical exercise. Skipping these quickly gives you a few extra hours. Time that can be used to push onward. In my experience, however, this kind of behavior is counterproductive. If there is a time when I need to clean my head with a run, it’s when I’m stressed. If there is a time when I need to set aside an afternoon for planning, it’s when I feel that I don’t have enough working hours. 

A technique I tend to use in such situations originates from David Allen’s modern classic Getting Things Done (2001). The point is to sit down with an empty piece of paper and write down everything entering your mind. Job stuff, private stuff, worries – everything that comes up. Simply put, a brain dump. The aim is to achieve a complete overview of all the “projects” currently in progress. In this context, projects refer to everything requiring you to take one or more actions. Allen refers to these as “open loops.” 

Step two involves thinking about what needs to be done to push each individual project forward and – in a best-case scenario – to be closed down. The key question is: what is the next action I need to take? This may involve minuscule things: printing an article, sending a reminder email or buying a train ticket. The point is that even if you’re unable to do everything at once, it’s good to know exactly what you need to do next (in all ongoing projects!). This makes the situation more concrete. This means that you can do something about it. 

The third step is to consider when the various actions are to be carried out. A basic rule, for which Allen is famous, is the two-minute rule. That is, if it takes less than two minutes – do it! If it takes longer – decide when to do it. This is particularly important when the calendar is full. What may be postponed? What needs to be done in the next week? What can be finished if you happen to have 15 minutes available before a lunch meeting? 

A key principle is to try to have as few open loops as possible. The reason is that they drain you of energy and require your attention. You become like an old, slow computer with lots of open programs. For the computer to work, you need to close down a few programs. This, according to Allen, also applies to people. By finishing things – submitting a proof for a book chapter, creating a PowerPoint presentation, booking a hotel room or correcting exams and entering grades – a loop is closed. The project is gone. Out of sight, out of mind. To continue using the above analogy, this frees up RAM capacity in the old computer. Suddenly, Word works again! 

For true GTD fans, this approach is more or less considered a lifestyle. Myself, I’m not really that hardcore. But, in mid-October, when the calendar fills up and I feel that I have less and less control, this is the technique I turn to. I did so as recently as last. I had set aside time intending to write, but my head was not in it. Everything was spinning around. This meant an empty piece of paper, a brain dump and a ventilation lunch. After that, the slow, old computer started working again…

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Sunday, October 3, 2021

Research from scratch



The book I’m writing has emerged over the course of five years. In addition to the introductory and final chapter, it will consist of six empirical chapters. Most of these are based on studies I have already carried out and published. The primary purpose of my book is to collect the different studies and give me room to make four to five significant points. In addition, I want to make my research available to more people through the book format. 

There are a number of advantages associated with this approach of going from journal articles to books. Not least the fact that I can write the actual book relatively quickly. Some chapters only require a slight revision of previous works. The fourth chapter, which I wrote before the summer vacation, was an example of this. This chapter is called “Två kvinnliga pionjärer” (Two Female Pioneers) and focuses on how journalist Barbro Soller and historian Birgitta Odén at the same time – but in different ways – developed a strong environmentalist commitment. This resulted in their lives and careers changing course. Here, my work primarily concerned translating my own text from English into Swedish (Soller) and making a journal article shorter (Odén). 

However, the chapter I’m currently working on, the fifth, has a completely different character. It is, to refer to Martin Ericsson, “research from scratch.” This chapter is based on Hans Palmstierna’s personal archives and is mainly based on letters. In the late fall of 1967, Palmstierna became Sweden’s first truly influential environmentalist – something highly noticeable in the correspondence that has survived. From this time until his death in 1975, a lot of people wrote letters to him. I may thus use these letters to get insights into the chain reaction of activity initiated by the breakthrough of environmental issues in Swedish society. Analyzing this material is incredibly fascinating. 

The material includes letters from students, bankers, high school teachers and priests. It includes communists and conservatives, centrists and liberals. Politically, however, it is dominated by social democrats. Palmstierna was an active party member, and in 1967–1968, he was given increasingly important tasks. For instance, he belonged to the group preparing the Social Democrats’ first environmental policy program. In March 1968, he left the Karolinska Institute to work at the Swedish Environmental Protection Agency. Six months later, he joined the Environmental Advisory Council. 

Even more interesting, however, is to see how he was invited to public television and the various branches of the labor movement. Most important in this context was the fact that in December 1967, the cooperative insurance company Folksam (the largest insurance company in Sweden at the time) decided to launch the first national environmental campaign: “Front mot miljöförstöringen” (Front against Environmental Degradation). Hans Palmstierna prepared the study material, recorded videos and designed the campaign. The basic idea was to get young people involved in environmental issues so that they would then exert pressure on decision-makers. The campaign culminated in the spring of 1969, when school students throughout Sweden organized public hearings with local politicians and business leaders. 

At this time, there was no “environmental movement” in the current sense of the word. There was no Greenpeace, no Friends of the Earth, and the term “Green Wave” had yet to be coined. But people’s involvement in relation to the environment was on the rise and it was channeled – as shown by the Folksam campaign – through established social organizations. The letter material also shows that student associations adopted a prominent role. At the Chalmers University of Technology, a group of architectural students created the exhibition “Än sen då” (So What?). It was launched in the spring of 1968 after which it toured the country. Other students signed up as volunteers in the new popular movement beginning to take shape. None of this existed in the spring of 1967. 

Exactly how this chapter will turn out remains to be seen. I have given myself some 25 pages and outlined a rough structure that is essentially chronological. The latter aspect is important to me since one of my points with this chapter is to highlight chain reactions. In other words, showing how someone’s actions led others to do something, which, in turn, had further consequences. To some extent, I also want to show how the “reaction time” differed between different organizations and groups. 

Nevertheless, there is no doubt that this represents a fun and creative phase of the research and writing process. I here find a sense of productive uncertainty not found in chapters where the bulk of my work was done a long time ago. Obviously, I also find lots of new leads that I’m curious to follow up. What, for example, is hidden in the Folksam archives? How difficult would it be to get in contact with people involved in hearings in the spring of 1969? What is preserved in school basements? Such as at Porthälla in Partille, which in April 1968 organized an environmental week ending with Hans Palmstierna coming to give a presentation. And what can we find out about the hundreds of study circles organized by adult education associations ABF, Vuxenskolan and others? 

There is certainly no shortage of ideas. But if I am to finish this book, further research will have to wait. “Get a plan and stick to it,” as the saying goes. But it’s certainly tempting to turn over just another stone.

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