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  • >>Amy: Hi. Isaiah Berlin wrote that "the fox knows many little things, but the hedgehog

  • knows one big thing". Steven Johnson knows many big things. Steven Johnson is not only

  • the author of books like "Everything Bad is Good for You," "Interface Culture" and "Mind

  • Wide Open." But he's also an entrepreneur and founder of early online communities. He

  • founded "Outside.in", a provider of hyper-local news and information as well as two influential

  • websites; the pioneering web feed, "Seed," and the community news discussion site, plastic.com.

  • "Emergence" is not only a title of one of his books, but is also a theme throughout

  • his works. "The Ghost Map" illustrates the emergence of public health; "The Invention

  • of Air", the emergence of science, and his latest book, "Where Good Ideas Come From:

  • The Natural History of Innovation", looks at the emergence of the new. Innovation is,

  • of course, central to Google and in his latest book, Steven explores the space of innovation,

  • observing the environments and networks from which good ideas emerge from coral reefs to

  • Building 20 at MIT. He debunks the myth of the lone genius, suddenly struck by inspiration

  • and instead, dwells on all of the work that that genius has built on and connects to.

  • And most importantly for Googlers, Steven proposes six specific patterns that foster

  • innovation within environments. So, please join me in welcoming Steven Johnson to the

  • Authors@Google series.

  • [applause]

  • >>Steven: Thank you, Amy. It's great to be back at Google. As always, you all are wonderful

  • people I like to be around. I’m always inspired by the things that you do, so it's an honor

  • to be back to talk about this new book. So, I wanted to say I come here via Chicago, where

  • I was talking on Wednesday night, but before that, I was in D.C., talking to some people

  • in the government and did a very fun thing at the White House. But then on Tuesday, I

  • was talking about this book and these ideas in the intelligence community, because they

  • were doing a series on being more innovative and creative inside of bureaucracy. So, they

  • invited me to come in and give this talk and they called me up and they said, "Listen,

  • here's the deal. We have to send a special car to pick you up because the building where

  • you're gonna speak does not show up on Google Maps anywhere, even in satellite view. You

  • won't see it at all. So, we have to take you to this special, secure, undisclosed location."

  • Which sounded really intimidating, but then when I got there, it turned out it was great

  • because there's very little Foursquare competition there, so I'm now the mayor of the location.

  • [laughter]

  • I think Cheney was the mayor before, but I can't come out.

  • [laughter]

  • Anyway, so it's nice to be in a slightly more open, architecture environment. So, I wanna

  • talk about this new book, and talk about a little bit about the arguments and then talk

  • a bit about some of the things that I think are happening, particularly with books and

  • e-books, and some of the things that you guys are on the cutting edge right now. So, I'm

  • gonna do a little bit of the book talk and a little bit of something custom-tailored

  • for this particular venue. One of these I would start by doing is telling you a little

  • bit about how I got to this project. It actually dates back to book that Amy alluded to, which

  • is a book called "The Ghost Map", which I was here talking about four years ago. "The

  • Ghost Map" is a story about a cholera epidemic in London, in the 1850s. And I got interested

  • in the story because it was one of those things that I kept colliding with from different

  • angles. So, I'd be reading something about the history of science and I would stumble

  • across this story. And then I'd be reading something about interface design, or cartography,

  • because there's a map at the center and I would stumble across this story, or I would

  • read about something and the history of public health and I would stumble across this story.

  • And anytime there's some interesting nugget of historical data or some perspective of

  • person that you keep colliding with from different angles, it's always a sign that something

  • interesting is going on. And so, I decided to dig in a little bit more and the story

  • is I heard it; went something like this: It's 1854 in London. The city, like many cities

  • in Europe and in the United States, is being regularly attacked by this terrible disease

  • of cholera. Every five years or so, a big epidemic will roll through the city. Five

  • thousand people will die over the course of a summer. Nobody really understands it, but

  • the reigning orthodox theory about cholera is that it's in the air. It's the miasma theory

  • with the dominant model for understanding it, which was somewhat understandable because

  • London was probably the smelliest city in all of the world at that particular point.

  • So people naturally assume that this noxious air that they were breathing had to be the

  • culprit here. But, in fact, we now know that cholera was in the water. It was not at all

  • a problem of poisonous vapors; it was because the water supply was contaminated by this

  • bacterium. So, this outbreak rips through the neighborhood of Soho in London in late

  • August, early September of 1854. It kills ten percent of the population in the space

  • of about ten days. And in the middle of all this, this lone genius, this brilliant man,

  • a local doctor named John Snow goes right into the belly of the beast of the outbreak

  • and starts knocking on doors, investigating what's going on with this outbreak and calculating

  • who has died at what address. And he built this map, and the map shows the number of

  • deaths at each address in the neighborhood with this little, black bars. And when you

  • look at the map, you can see very clearly that there's this very strong pronounced cluster

  • of deaths right around a popular pump at the center of Soho at 40 Broad Street. And you

  • can see the further you get from the pump, the deaths fade away. And so he looks at this

  • map and he says, "Aha! The problem is with the water. It's not in the air. Cholera is

  • a water-borne disease, so if we can clear the water up whatever this is causing this;

  • we'll rid the city of this terrible menace." So, he goes to the authorities, convinces

  • them of his theory. They remove the pump handle, the epidemic stops, they start building things

  • like the London sewers to clean up the water supply and by 1866, the cholera is gone from

  • London forever. So I thought, "That's a great story. It'll be like a Victorian episode of

  • CSI. It's got a page-turner kind of feel, but it's a triumph of science and all this

  • kind of stuff." So, I started to really research it in earnest for this book, and what I found

  • was, quite quickly, was that almost every important fact in that story that I just told

  • you was wrong. And the first part of it was that Snow had the theory of cholera as a water-borne

  • disease for six years before the outbreak came to Soho. He was convinced in late 1848

  • that, in fact, everybody was wrong about this disease and, in fact, it was a water-borne

  • problem, not an air-borne problem. And he wrote a number of essays, wrote a number of

  • letters to "The Lancet", he actually created a couple of other maps and basically, his

  • whole theory was roundly ignored by the authorities for a very long time. When the outbreak finally

  • came to Soho, the map he made was actually not triggering a eureka moment--a sudden moment

  • of clarity in his head--it was, in fact, more of a marketing vehicle for an idea that he'd

  • had for a long time that he'd been working on for a long period of time. And it turned

  • out, also, that Snow's interest in all this was actually just a hobby that he had on the

  • side. Most of us don't have cholera as a hobby, but Snow was that kind of guy,

  • He was trained as a physician and an anesthesiologist, but he was interested in a million different

  • things, and cholera was one of those things. In fact, it turns out to be a trait of a lot

  • of people that I look at in this new book that unusually innovative people have a lot

  • of hobbies. This is a very interesting characteristic. So, it turned out to be precisely because

  • he did have a number of different hobbies and interests that it was the interaction

  • between all these different passions that allowed him to see around a lot of the orthodoxies

  • of the day and solve this riddle in a way that other medical authorities couldn't. But

  • the most important thing that I found in researching this book was that Snow had a collaborator

  • that no one had talked about. It was almost entirely written out of the historical accounts

  • of this outbreak. And this collaborator was this guy named Henry Whitehead, who was a

  • local vicar; not at all a man of science. He was one of these local vicars, he was a

  • classic connector figure who knew everyone in the neighborhood, he had a great social

  • intelligence and he got involved in the case, initially actually, to try to prove Snow wrong,

  • which was kind of funny, and then became an ally of Snow's. And it was Whitehead who did

  • a lot of the shoe-leather detective work; particularly in tracking down people who had

  • left the neighborhood because he had these thick ties to them socially. And it was Whitehead

  • who ended up tracking down the patient zero of the whole outbreak, which turned out to

  • be crucial in addition to the map in convincing the authorities that Snow's theory was right.

  • So, what had been this kind of classic story of the lone genius having a eureka moment

  • of sudden clarity, turned out to be a much slower, much more complex, and much more collaborative

  • and networked process than the story had originally been told to me, and I thought much more interesting.

  • And so, I realized as I was writing that book that there was, in a sense, a latent theory

  • of innovation of breakthrough ideas in the environments that make them possible that

  • was lurking in the background of this story I was telling you about cholera. So, I decided

  • to make that story, that theory, front and center in a new book. And so, I went to my

  • publisher and persuaded them that I should write a book about innovation and the spaces

  • that encourage innovation. And early on, I decided that I would look not only at human

  • societies and cultural environments, but also biological ones and that there would probably

  • be an interesting set of analogies to draw between human innovation and biological innovation.

  • And so, I knew that I wanted to look at environments like rainforests and coral reefs that have

  • a long track record of generating biological diversity, because I figured there would be

  • patterns that you would see in both of them. The problem was then, when I actually sat

  • down to decide what would go into the book, I realized that I had set the scope of this

  • project ridiculously wide because it could include potentially, any good idea that any

  • human being had ever had in the course of human history, or any interesting life form

  • that ever evolved in the course of life on Earth, which, when you're sitting--

  • [laughter]

  • with Google search box open on your desktop and a cup of coffee in the morning, is daunting

  • when you can include everything like that. So, I had to figure out and for a while I

  • panicked and thought that I had made a terrible mistake. But, eventually what I realized is

  • that I was seeing these recurring patterns that were showing up again and again in the

  • environments that I was looking at. And I decided that each chapter, basically, should

  • be devoted to one of these patterns and eventually came up with seven of them really. There's

  • an introductory one that you can count as one or not. And once I had that, it got a

  • lot easier to write because the patterns, in a sense, became these magnets that would

  • attract all these different stories to the right slot and then it became really fun.

  • And it was almost a question of "where do I stop?" cause there was so much to say. And

  • I wanted to talk a little bit about a few of them and tell you a little bit of my theory

  • about them. The first is one that we've already seen in the case of Snow. It's what I call

  • "the Snow hunch." There seems to be this almost innate desire to tell stories about innovation

  • in terms of eureka moments. For some reason, we just want to condense them down to these

  • moments of sudden clarity where a light bulb pops over someone's head and they suddenly

  • see the world differently. The apple falls from the tree and they have a theory of gravity;

  • whatever the trigger is. But when you actually go back and look at it, it turns out that

  • the historical record is an historical record of innovation. Eureka moments are the exception

  • and not the rule. Almost always, there is a very long incubation period that goes into

  • a breakthrough idea where people start with this inkling, this sense, that there's something

  • interesting in a particular problem; a feeling that the authorities are missing something

  • or there's an opening, but they can't quite put their finger on it. And for whatever reason,

  • they have patience or they have a work environment, or they're just stubborn or they have good

  • tools that help them remember these things and they are able to keep these hunches alive

  • for long periods of time. This is a great example of this. I show this slide a lot.

  • This room will probably guess what this is cause you can see in the upper left hand corner,

  • it says "CERN." It says, "This machine is a server. Do not power down." Right? So, this

  • is the first World Wide Web server that Tim Berners-Lee put together. This is back in

  • the day when the World Wide Web was on one server, where you could trip over the power

  • cord and be like, "Oh, I'm so sorry. The World Wide Web is down."

  • [laughter]

  • Which we've moved beyond that. But, it's a famous story, but Berners-Lee, this is a classic

  • instance of a slow hunch, right? He starts working at CERN in 1982, almost as a consultant

  • and he's overloaded with all the information and projects and people who are there and

  • so he starts working on this project he calls ENQUIRE for a while. And then he puts that

  • aside and a few years later, he starts working on something called Tango, which doesn't really

  • take off and then it's only three or four years later after that, that he starts working

  • on something that he ends up calling the Web. And, of course, he's basing it on existing

  • platforms that are out there; he's basing it on the Internet, of course, and parts of

  • SGML and things like that. And it's only eight years after this hunch starts to be cultivated

  • in his mind that he finally goes to his bosses and says, "I think I may have invented a new

  • global medium here. Could this be part of my day job, please?" Right? And I think it's

  • in part because he didn't set out to invent a globally transformative communications platform

  • in 1982, that he was ultimately able to do it. If he tried to do that from the beginning,

  • it would have been too much; it would have been too ambitious, but because he started

  • with a smaller, less ambitious project and let it incubate for a long period of time,

  • and because he had an environment and a certain sensibility that allowed that to happen, he

  • was able to turn it into something that changed all of our lives and made this company possible.

  • You often find, even in individual cases, people in telling the stories of their own

  • innovations, they will invent these eureka moments, even if it turns out it didn't really

  • happen. So, one great example of this is Darwin. For many years, the standard story of Darwin's

  • discovery of the theory of natural selection was that he had this epiphany. In his study,

  • late one night in October of 1838, when he was sitting around--

  • reading Malthus' book on population and he writes about this in his autobiography; he

  • actually describes this what scholars eventually call the "Malthusian Epiphany", where he's

  • reading Malthus one night and, as he writes in the autobiography, suddenly the idea for

  • the algorithm of natural selection pops into his head. And he writes, "At last I had a

  • theory with which I could work." And it all sounded great and he writes this in his autobiography.

  • And for a hundred years that was the canonical story of the roots of evolutionary theory.

  • But about 20, 25 year ago, a really interesting scholar named Howard Gruber went back and

  • read through all of Darwin's notebooks from this period. And Darwin kept these wonderful

  • notebooks which were called in that period "The Commonplace Books." And the whole genre

  • of "The Commonplace Book" is very interesting. Many Commonplace Books, which were crucial

  • to the explosions of intellectual activity and the enlightenment in the 1700s and 1800s,

  • what people would do with Commonplace Books, is they would find interesting quotes and

  • jot them down, transcribe them word by word in these Commonplace Books and they would

  • intersperse them with their own ideas on thoughts about the world and their various inquiries

  • and crucially, they would then go back and reread through these books. And so, they would

  • take all these different voices and different snippets and remix them, intersperse them

  • with their own ideas and by rereading all these different voices, they would give birth

  • to their own intellectual sensibility to the world. Thomas Jefferson did this, John Locke

  • did this, Darwin did this, Erasmus Darwin did this and it was actually a really crucial

  • intellectual vehicle for the period and I'll come back to that in a second. With Darwin,

  • he kept these wonderful notebooks, or he wrote a lot of his own ideas as well as borrowing

  • quotes and things and doing sketches and stuff like that. We have all these notebooks. So,

  • Gruber went back and read through all these notebooks; they're all chronologically organized

  • very clearly, and what he found was there is, in fact, a moment of excitement in late

  • October of 1838, when Darwin is reading Malthus. There are a lot of exclamation points that

  • night and he's all excited. But, what Gruber found was, in fact, there are many, many passages

  • from months and months before the alleged epiphany where Darwin writes out whole paragraphs;

  • it seemed like they are taken straight from a contemporary evolutionary theory textbook,

  • where he seems to have the whole theory of natural selection in his head on some level.

  • And then you have the epiphany, and the next day there's no sense that he's passed this

  • really important watershed point, like he's not like, "I have solved my big problem."

  • He goes and writes his own entry on the sexual curiosity on primates that has nothing to

  • do with his big, new discovery the night before. He's had the most important idea in 19th century

  • science and the next morning, he's like, "All right, I'm gonna do the crossword puzzle."

  • There's no sense that some momentous thing has happened, right? And, in fact, it's not

  • for another two months before Darwin actually starts writing about his theory as this thing

  • and he has to then figure out what he has to do with it, which he spends, of course,

  • 20 more years trying to figure out. And so, Gruber's point is if you try and pinpoint

  • the exact moment that Darwin has the idea, you can't do it; that you can say pretty confidently

  • from the notebooks that he doesn't have it three months before the epiphany and he clearly,

  • fully has it two months after. But when you try and get more precise in that, it's actually

  • very blurry. It's really hard to specify and that's because the idea is not a single thing

  • that happens in an instant; it's a much more evolutionary process, a much slower process.

  • Now, when you think about the process of innovation as something that is built around hunches,

  • and it built around ideas from other people colliding and being mixed in other ways, it

  • sets up, I think, a lot of different assumptions about the kind of tools that you use to make

  • sense of these ideas and to keep track of them. So, for many years, I've been using

  • this piece of software--I think I may have talked about this in one of the times I was

  • here in the past-- that is called Devonthink. How many people have seen Devonthink? Anybody

  • else? Yeah, a couple folks have seen it. I should get royalties from these people. I

  • think I've about this. This is an obscure, German software company that makes this thing;

  • it's Mac only, but I've been using it for a long time. And it is my version of the Commonplace

  • Book, although, I'm working on something that will be a little bit different that may replace

  • this. For years, I've been keeping digital clips of quotes that I find useful from books,

  • anticipating that software like this was gonna come around. So, initially, I would actually

  • just take the book and I would type in the excerpts. I tried OCR-ing the books to get

  • the text in there, which never really works very well. I had this amazing technology called

  • A Research Assistant, but it's fantastic, very accurate and just a little more expensive

  • than some of the other techniques to get the quotes in digital form. And now, of course,

  • because of e-books, it's getting easier and easier, although it's harder than it should

  • be which I will get back to. To get quotes from books and put them, store them here.

  • So, I've collected, I don't know what it is now, six thousand fragments from books and

  • from webpages and various things that I found that I've been working on for basically 12

  • or 13 years. And so, I've curated this Commonplace Book of interesting ideas that I don't know

  • really where they're gonna be useful or what they're gonna be good for, but I've been storing

  • them around and porting them along from computer to computer. Now, what Devonthink does is

  • it lets me store all that stuff, but basically it lets me do a pretty smart, semantic analysis

  • of text of these little snippets so that I can select one and say, "Show me things that

  • are like this." Right? So, I use it sometimes as a straight search query where I'm like,

  • "I need to find that one passage about turtles." And so, I search for turtles and I find it.

  • But the interesting use that I have for it is I use in an improvisational way, right?

  • I use it an idea association generating way as a triggering tool, not just as a search

  • and retrieval tool. And so, I'll take a passage that I'm interested in and I'll say, "Show

  • me other things that are like this. Do you wanna think?" And it'll give me this list

  • of things. Sometimes, I will write a passage in my own words and I'll say, "Show me things

  • that are like this passage that I've just written," because the number of things that

  • you've, of course, forgotten that you've read, even things that you really love and found

  • interesting is immense. You forget much, much more than you remember, right? So, keeping

  • this outboard memory is extremely valuable to me. But what's crucial about it, is that

  • it's not everything. It's not everything I've ever read, it's not everything in every book

  • that’s ever been written. It's massively filtered by my own interests, my decisions

  • to read a certain book and then my decisions to pick these passages as being the most important

  • ones. But it also has this noise to it, right? It's not tremendously accurate. Oftentimes,

  • the number one result will be the next paragraph from that book that I've quoted at the beginning

  • to start the search query, and I'm like, "Yes, do you even think I know that passage is interesting?

  • I just read it." And sometimes it'll be irrelevant, but the noise, the surprise and serendipity

  • that you get from the software suggesting things that are kind of off but not totally

  • off, has generated a number of trains of association and some of which have led to entire chapters

  • of books that I've writ. And so, there's a very interesting question, which of course,

  • you all wrestle with all the time, which is "When I have that idea, when there's an idea

  • suggested to me in association between something I've read and something else I've read, and

  • it leads to something as substantive as a chapter in a book. Who's having that idea?"

  • Is it me or the software, all right? On some level, obviously it takes me to curate it,

  • it takes my intelligence to curate, my intelligence to recognize that that's the valuable connection

  • and my intelligence to then build a whole chapter out of it, and that's important. I

  • still have value in that chain, right? But I probably wouldn't have made the connection

  • without the associative intelligence of the software. And so, in a real sense, it's a

  • duet between these two different--very different--kinds of intelligence collaborating on new ways

  • of thinking. So it's the beginning of that digital Commonplace Book I think that could

  • be so powerful if we keep working on this. But it's not just environment; it's like software

  • where ideas come together, where hunches can collide with other hunches. I also spend a

  • lot of time in the book looking at physical environments, I've got some insight; physical

  • environments that have been unusually innovative, real world environments where people get together,

  • where ideas get together and I look at environments. It's like office environments and cities and

  • things like that. Well, one of my favorites, which I've now written about in a couple of

  • books, is the coffeehouse of the 18th Century. The coffeehouse, particularly in London and

  • Paris and in Vienna and a little bit in Boston and United States, the coffeehouse was a tremendous

  • driver of innovation in this period and just an amazing number of really world-changing

  • ideas in science and in politics and religion and in business, technology, have somewhere

  • in their story a coffeehouse. And the question is why? What is it about this space that made

  • it so generative? What were the core ingredients that made it so powerful? Now, one answer

  • which is important but a little off-topic, is the fact that they were drinking coffee,

  • right? I mean, this is not a trivial thing, right, because until coffee and tea became

  • affordable for mass audiences, the daytime beverage of choice for both mass and elite

  • people was alcohol. It was the safe thing to drink because the water wasn't safe to

  • drink; it was the healthy choice, basically. So, people would wake up and they would have

  • some beer with breakfast and then would have a little more beer during the morning and

  • they'd have some wine at lunch and in the 1600s, they drank a lot of gin. Gin was the

  • big craze in the 1600s. And so, you really, truly had a population that was just drunk

  • all day long. That was the standard state of existence in society. And so, it's--sounds

  • like a joke--but it's not an accident that when a society moves from a depressant to

  • a stimulant in their daily intake, they're gonna have better ideas as a society.

  • [laughter]

  • It's just gonna happen. So for those of you who spend all day drinking alcohol, you should

  • think about, and one of the key takeaways; my talk is maybe wanna switch to coffee.

  • But it wasn't just the coffee. What was so important about these environments is that

  • they were hubs where different interests and passions and hobbies were able to collide

  • and connect with each other in surprising new ways, right? When Ben Franklin would hang

  • out at the London coffeehouse near St. Paul's, he would have this group called the Club of

  • Honest Whigs. This was during the period of time, the long period of time when Franklin

  • was in London and they would meet every fortnight and they would hang out and they would have

  • these five hour long sessions where they would just talk about the American political situation

  • and the science of electricity and new developments in chemistry and business models and all this

  • kind of stuff. And it was precisely because the space wasn't so structured; it wasn't

  • an office environment, it wasn't a lecture, but it wasn't completely chaotic and disorganized.

  • It was in this middle zone that I call "the liquid network," where ideas were free to

  • bounce off each other and collide and take these new forms. It was the multi-disciplinary

  • nature of the space that made it so powerful. And, in fact, went back to London when I was

  • writing this last book, "The Invention of Air", to see if there was any plaque or anything,

  • but this London coffeehouse was absolutely just an amazingly historic place for so many

  • different reasons, and there's no record of it anywhere, except there is a Starbucks basically

  • right where it used to be.

  • So, they're holding, they're keeping the torch alive, basically, for the memory of it. And

  • so, it's that kind of environment, that liquid fluid environment, where there's a lot of

  • diversity in the points of view and in the hobbies of all the people there that you're

  • so often the generator of innovation. Now, in biological terms, there's a clear parallel

  • here in terms of the importance of diversity and multi-disciplinary thinking. It's a somewhat

  • awkward word, but I find it really useful; it's worth knowing. Originally coined by Steven

  • Jay Gould and Elizabeth Verba about 30 years ago in a paper about the mechanisms of innovation

  • in evolution. And the word for it is "exaptation." And exaptation is the idea that there is a

  • feature of some kind, that is sculpted by evolution for a certain purpose. It turns

  • out, when the environment changes for some reason or some new possibility opens up, turns

  • out to be good at something else that wasn't the original point of that feature, of that

  • trait. So, the classic example is feathers, right? Feathers originally evolved, we think,

  • for thermal regulation, for just keeping an organism warm and it turned out that some

  • of the feather owners decided to adopt this crazy new lifestyle of flying and the ones

  • that had feathers were suddenly better at it. And so after that point, feathers started

  • to get sculpted by selection to be more aerodynamic. In fact, you can see a very clear difference

  • in the feathers of flying birds versus non-flying birds, because non-flying birds' feathers

  • are perfectly symmetrical, which makes them less aerodynamic. So, what Gould and Verba

  • were saying is that that's a big driver of new lifestyles and new features and new functionality

  • in the evolutionary record, which is that things designed for one thing turn out to

  • be good some surprising new use down the line; it's not just driven by mutation, but it's

  • driven by this kind of migration across different uses. So, something is exapted for a new purpose.

  • That's the way you use that phrase. And it turns out that the history of technology is

  • replete with examples of exaptation, right? I mean, think of all the ways in which the

  • Web has been exapted to do all these things that Tim Berners-Lee never dreamed of, right?

  • That's so much of what we do in this business is take old things and put them to new uses

  • that were not in the minds of their creators by any means. But it actually dates back to

  • early technology, so when Gutenberg was coming up with the original technology of the printing

  • press, he'd done this amazing work with movable type and with inks he'd had this state of

  • the art technology because of his skills of a metallurgist, but he didn't actually have

  • a pressing mechanism for all this. And so, he's missing this key component and so he's

  • stuck. And so, it turns out to be wine grape harvesting season in Rhineland, Germany, so

  • he goes up to the hills and decides to drink some wine because coffee wasn't available

  • yet.

  • And he's hanging out there and one day looks over and he sees this ancient technology,

  • the screw press, which is being used to press grapes and has been around for two thousand

  • years. And he looks at it and he's like, "Hahaha, that's what I need." And so he exapts this

  • very old machine designed to press grapes and reconfigures it, remixes it, and turns

  • it into a machine for printing Bibles. And so, that kind of borrowing of ideas of across

  • their original uses and across disciplines is really a crucial part of it; the history

  • of innovation. Now, this has an interesting implication, which is that there is conceptual,

  • all creative value that comes from surrounding yourselves with a diverse set of influences.

  • There was a really interesting study a number of years ago by a Stanford Business School

  • professor named Martin Roif, who looked at unusually innovative people in corporate America

  • and entrepreneurs and looked at their social networks, not their Facebook, Twitter networks,

  • but the people that they actually know. And then compared their social networks to folks

  • who were--to put it nicely--less innovative in their careers, which is, by the way, the

  • part of the experiment you don't want to be asked to participate in. When they call you

  • up and say, "You seem very dull. Could we talk to you a bit about your friends?" Don't

  • answer the phone, right?

  • [laughter]

  • So, Roif looks at all these things and what he finds is that unusually innovative people

  • have this very distinct pattern in their social networks, which is that they have strong and

  • weak tie connections to a much more diverse range of professions, right? So, they work

  • in an ad agency, but they're friends with an architect, a Web developer and a Popular

  • Science writer and government contract writer, a lawyer and a plumber. Whereas, the less

  • innovative people are just friends with other people who work in ad agencies. And what I

  • think that shows is that in a sense, the power, the creative power of exaptation, you're an

  • architect and you're talking to your Web developer friend and there's something in the way that

  • the Web developer deals with his kind of work flow that turns out to be really interesting.

  • If you poured it over architecture, it does something new and it gets you out of your

  • conventional way of thinking about the world. And so, where you end up when you think about

  • things that way is in a sense the non-political argument for diversity. It's not that we'll

  • be better as a society and more tolerant to society if we surround ourselves with people

  • who are different from us. That is certainly true, but also, that will be smarter on some

  • level. We'll be more original in our thinking if we surround ourselves with people who have

  • different interests. And that's part of the reason why people with hobbies are so innovative

  • in their careers; it's because hobbies, in a sense, give you that kind of coffeehouse

  • environment, even when you're by yourself, right? Because you're constantly bouncing

  • back and forth between different kinds of projects and different interests. One of the

  • things that happened after Gutenberg is the printer and the printer's workshop became

  • the coffeehouse of this period. This is one of Gutenberg's original disciples who went

  • on to; he's Peter Schiffer, who went on to become actually the first financially successful

  • printer because Gutenberg was kind of a disaster as a businessman. But Schiffer built this

  • printing business and it became this really interesting hub where all these different

  • people from the community--you had religious people coming to talk about the Bibles, you

  • had technology who wanted to help build the machines, you had businessmen who were coming

  • in to think about investing in this and you had the secular, intellectual groups, such

  • as they were, the protoscientists and things like that hanging out because this is where

  • the ideas were. And so, you had this interesting hub that was created by this technology, but

  • supported this interesting space of diversity that led to the early, late-Renaissance, early

  • enlightenment stuff that the book unleashed. Now, one of the things that Schiffer did in

  • the years after the first printing presses were created, it's a wonderful period to study

  • and there've been a bunch of interesting pieces, written about Clay Shirky has written about

  • it a little bit and talked about it recently, because in a sense, what happens all these

  • early printers, is that they have this feature war that breaks out where they're printing

  • new books and they're talking about the new books that they're doing, but they also start

  • innovating in terms of the features included in their books. So, they start saying, "Hey,

  • we've got a new index," or "we've got this new way of organizing of the pages," or "we've

  • got this new supplementary material." And literally, the language they use sounds like

  • the language we use to describe new software features. So, this right here is this edition

  • of St. Augustine's, "On the Art of Printing," which was published in 1467, I think it was.

  • And it is, we believe, the first printed book to have an alphabetized index. You see it's

  • alphabetical down the side. They don't actually have page numbers, where we didn't have Arabic

  • page numbers for another hundred years; it hadn't become standardized. But this idea

  • of alphabetizing all these things that you could go and find things, in some fashion,

  • which is big innovation and Schiffer's description of the book actually included this plug that

  • said, "You know, the index is worth the price of the book alone. It makes it much more easy

  • to use." So, he's literally like, 'it's user friendly! You should adopt this book cause

  • of these new features we have. It's got a great interface for finding the information."

  • This is 15th century search technology right here, is what you're seeing. Now, what's cool

  • about this is the idea that they were competing, although the problem with it is that each

  • new feature would come out every 20 years. It was an arms race, but it was very slow

  • arms race between all the competing printers. But, when all of these things coalesced, when

  • you developed page numbers, when you had alphabetical indexes, when you created a system of citation

  • and footnotes and all that kind of stuff and a reliable way of storing these books, that

  • became a platform that sustained alongside the coffeehouse, a lot of the great, amazing,

  • extraordinary, world-changing innovations of the enlightenment, because you had a whole

  • system of agreeing on where the information was and how to point to it, right? There was

  • a whole standardized way of saying, "Here's this idea that somebody has and now I'm gonna

  • build on top of that idea and we've agreed on a way to figure out where it is, what it's

  • address is, and how we point to it." And it was from these early innovations coming together

  • to form the standardized platform that everyone adopted, basically, in terms of scientific

  • reference. It became one of the key architectural frameworks that made the enlightenment possible.

  • So, you know the parallel here, right? You know where I'm going with this, right? This

  • is exactly what Berners-Lee did; this is exactly what this business was built around; this

  • world-changing consensus of agreeing where the information lives and how to point to

  • it. That created a platform that enabled this company and enabled millions of other businesses

  • and non-profits and amazing innovations that have happened because we had this kind of

  • standard agreement about where the information was and how to get people to it, right? Now,

  • the question is what is happening now with that agreement and that platform? And that's

  • really what I wanna just say a couple of words about, then we can answer some questions and

  • I'm happy to sign books because there's this big article that Chris Anderson did, The Web

  • is Dead, and all this talk about apps and things like that. And the truth is I'm not

  • so worried about the app world because there's a lot of what's happening in apps that is

  • not necessarily, we don't necessarily need to have it be linkable in the way that we

  • have. I mean, nobody needs to link to one particular screen of angry birds. I think

  • that's all right if you lose that ability to point to that information, right? But there

  • is information that is going to be built and stored in the app world that will be unlinkable,

  • or we haven't figured out a way to make it linkable. But more importantly, there is a

  • massive influx of information and really the best information in the world that is coming

  • online at an incredible speed or becoming digital at incredible speed is because of

  • e-books, all right? My last book, I think, two percent were in e-book format; this book

  • will 20 to25 percent in e-books, right? Within two years we've had two percent to 20 percent.

  • This is actually faster way of than I think we saw with the original Web in '94, '95,

  • '96. And that's really extraordinary. And right now, all that information is digital,

  • so it should be part of this whole world, part of this platform, it should be the ideal

  • mechanism for creating commonplace books. It should be a fantastic mechanism for going

  • in and pointing to things and citing them and building platforms and doing all the amazing

  • things that we've done on the Web and open up all space for innovation on the Web. We

  • should be able to that with the world's best information; the information that's stored

  • in books, but it's not quite working right the way it is now. We don't fully agree on

  • a standard of how you link like cite a particular point in a book, right? The Kindle has locations;

  • they've done away with page numbers altogether. You can point to a particular page, in a google

  • book edition online, and that can work, but that's not the standard reference URL for

  • that page. And being able to move text around and grab a quote and put it somewhere else,

  • put in on a Devonthink, share it, send it to a friend, is very complicated--the new

  • Google Book Reader, as far as I can tell, does not allow you to copy text at all in

  • any form. I may be wrong about that, but it seems from my experiments with it in the last

  • two days, it doesn't seem like you can actually select text and copy it. And it seems to me,

  • I understand why publishers and authors guilds, I mean, I'm going against my constituency

  • here in saying this, but I know that the publishing industry is the driving force behind this

  • and they're saying, "No, no, no. We don't want to have another Napster for books." And

  • they're all concerned about words getting out there. But it seems to me, at a certain

  • point, the whole point of having digital text is that you can do stuff with it. You can

  • move it around, you can take it into new environments, you can borrow it, and repurpose it and remix

  • in all these different ways. And when we have software that keeps you from actually being

  • able to just select a paragraph and paste it somewhere else, but that's not a feature

  • we'd like to have, or something that would be nice to have. That's almost an inalienable

  • right of digital text in this age, right? Copy and paste within limits, right? Put limits

  • on it, so you can only copy and paste ten percent of this book, that's fine. We can

  • establish those things. Fair use limits is perfectly appropriate. But to not allow it

  • at all, to have the words, in a sense, behind glass there where you can't touch them and

  • move them around, I think is a great mistake because we have this wonderful opportunity

  • to build a new platform with a whole new trove of information that's out there. And so, to

  • me, the overarching message of this book is we spent a lot of time historically thinking

  • about new ideas and innovation in terms of the importance of protecting those ideas.

  • Keeping them locked up in R&D labs, wrapping them around in intellectual property laws

  • and patents as best as we can, and making sure that they're hidden away so they're valuable,

  • but I think what's happens when you look at the history of innovation from the perspective

  • of these different patterns, both in the online world and the history of science, even in

  • the history of nature, is that we do ourselves a disservice if we only emphasize the protective

  • side of information. That, in fact, there is oftentimes more value and more creativity

  • that comes from connecting ideas; making those new links and building platforms to make those

  • connections easy to make. Thank you very much for listening.

  • [applause]

  • >>Steven: OK, we got a few minutes for questions about any of this stuff?

  • If anybody's working on the e-book side, I would love to hear what you are thinking of.

  • I'd like to learn, take this opportunity to steal some ideas from you all. Yeah?

  • >>audience #1: I was interested by--

  • >>Steven: OK.

  • [laughter]

  • >>audience #1: OK, so I was interested in your discussion of the feature wars in the

  • early days of printing with moveable type.

  • Can you tell us about any innovative features introduced in that time that didn't work out

  • and that we don't remember today?

  • >>Steven: Oh, that's a really good question. That's a great way of approaching-- I'm trying

  • to think if there's anything that jumps to mind. One of the things I'm really interested

  • in terms of the history of ideas is that kind of reverse history, where we tend to tell

  • the history of the winners. And it's just as important, I think, to look at two different

  • kinds of losers. I'm gonna give a theoretical answer because I can't think of a good concrete

  • example. There are two different kinds of losers that are worth studying. The first

  • is, the good idea that failed, right? So, in the book, one of the things I talk about,

  • I'm sure this is familiar to most people in this audience; one of the most fascinating

  • stories in the history of technology was Charles Babbage. And basically, inventing the computer,

  • the digital computer in the middle of the 19th century, with Ada Lovelace, the first

  • programmer; Lord Byron's daughter, helping him. It's such a cool story because he was

  • literally a hundred years ahead of his time, which almost never happens, right? It's amazing

  • how reliably ideas come at the right time; people really jump a hundred years ahead.

  • And what Babbage was trying to do was build a programmable computer with steam industrial

  • era parts. He was trying to build a steam-powered programmable computer and you just couldn't

  • do it, right? So, that's one way in which-- his idea, as visionary as it was, it was so

  • far ahead of its time, it died out and most of the principles had to be rediscovered a

  • hundred years later when people started actually to build computers with vacuum tubes and so

  • on. So, there are ideas that fail because they are good, but they're just ahead of their

  • time in some kind of way. The other question is ideas that in a sense are bad ideas that

  • stick around for too long. This is a big thing that I think intellectuals historians should

  • spend more time on; the history of being wrong. Because no doubt, we're all walking around

  • with our own biases or misunderstandings of the world that 30 years from now, or a hundred

  • years from now, we're gonna go, "How were we so stupid?" Right? And trying to figure

  • out how those ideas have historically stayed in place for such a long time. In the "Ghost

  • Map", the theory of the Miasma theory, the cholera being in the air is one of those.

  • Like, why did it stick around for as long as it did? I think it's a really interesting

  • kind of problem. So, to totally fail to answer your question, but hopefully say something

  • interesting, I think that going back and looking at innovations that failed, either because

  • they were wrong or poorly designed, but interesting. Or innovations that were so good that people

  • couldn't deal with them yet on some level. That's a really fertile field of discovery.

  • Go ahead.

  • >>audience #2: I'd be interested in your take on a classic question from the history of

  • technology, which is, are innovations inevitable?

  • Or, meaning, could ideas come together by someone who just puts them together in the

  • right way or is it a matter of genius, or a matter of an individual’s contribution

  • seeing things that maybe are apparent to others, but who they fail to put together?

  • >>Steven: Yeah. It's a great question. By the way, another fantastic book that deals

  • with this and maybe a little bit more, although I talk about this is Kevin Kelley's book,

  • "What Technology Wants". I'm sure Kevin has been here, or is coming here yet.

  • [laughter]

  • Two weeks ago, there you go. Kevin and I, we did a fun event near a public library,

  • which is online, actually. And we talked about this quite a bit. There's a term for it, which

  • is the multiple, right? In the history of science and technology where they're again

  • and again, there are these multiple, independent discoveries, or inventions, or the same basic,

  • the same thing, happening without direct interaction between the participants and it just, there

  • are like, 150 of them in the canon of big ideas that are out there and have been collected.

  • And historically, it's been described in this very vague zeitgeisty way. Like, something

  • was in the air, and I think that in saying that these ideas on some level are inevitable,

  • that you reach a certain point and someone will figure out how to build a personal computer,

  • digital computer, a phone, is true. It doesn't mean there aren't geniuses, right? This book

  • is not against the idea that some people are, by nature of their genes or their education

  • and probably some mix of that; some people are smarter than other people. So, whoever

  • it is who gets to discover that thing in that particular moment of time is gonna be more

  • likely to be someone who's smart and well-educated than someone who's not, but it's very, very

  • hard for someone to have that insight at the wrong time, right? It's impossible to invent

  • a microwave oven in 1650. It just cannot be done, right. There are just limitations on

  • that. So, the example that's very close to my heart is, in The Invention of Air, the

  • hero of that book is Joseph Priestly, who is most famous for isolating oxygen for the

  • first time. He's known as the discoverer of oxygen, although when he did it, he called

  • it "dephilostigated air" instead of oxygen, which was not a very good brand and didn't

  • really stick. And it turned out that actually, two other people, Lavoisier and Scheele, the

  • Swedish, I believe, scientist, also isolated oxygen within about a year; somewhere between

  • 1772 and 1774. Three people, more or less independently, have isolated oxygen for the

  • first time. So, weird, right? How did that happen, right? But when you go back and look

  • at it, you realize that there are a set of supporting platforms that basically make that

  • thought thinkable for the first time, right around that period. And some of it is technology,

  • right? One of the key things that they has is they developed, in the 1750s, very accurate

  • scales. And part of the way that they could figure out that oxygen was something was that

  • when you burn things, they got ever so slightly heavier, right? Because of combustion and

  • so, but you couldn't pick that out if you didn't have really, really precise scales.

  • And the other thing they had was they discovered vacuums about a century before. And up until

  • the discovery of a vacuum, people never thought of the air as been something you study; it

  • was just this empty space between things. If you were gonna use this great, new scientific

  • method, you wanted to study a tree or a body or a rock, but why would you study the stuff

  • between all those things, right? But then they figured out that there was this thing

  • called a vacuum, which seemed to look just like air, but not be air. And so, it suddenly

  • suggested this idea that there was something between us all that we could study. So, without

  • unlocking that as a kind of a paradigm that you could get interested in, you couldn't

  • even start to solve the problem. So, I think what happens is there are these stages and

  • the technology advances, the perspectives advance and they unlock a whole new set of

  • possibilities. In the book, I call this the adjacent possible, which is a phrase from

  • Stewart Kaufman. And then who actually explores the adjacent possible, some of it is luck,

  • some of it is environment, some of it is education, some of it is skills, mental skills, curiosity,

  • but there are many, many doors that can't be unlocked until you get to the next level,

  • which is suddenly sounding like a video game, but anyway.

  • That's the video game theory of scientific creativity. All right. We probably have a

  • little bit of time, yeah?

  • >>audience #3: So, this isn't exactly a question about your book, but I was wondering if you

  • could say a little biographical background, what led you to write about the things that

  • you've written about--

  • >>Steven: Yeah.

  • >>audience #3: and have the entrepreneurial experiences that you've had. What's your background?

  • >>Steven: Yes. Sure. Well, it's very funny because I'm more often than not described

  • as a science writer, which is hilarious because I have no scientific training, whatsoever.

  • My parents are still like, "We saw your biology grades in high school." Like, this is ridiculous;

  • what's going on? Well, my background is media theory. I did graduate work at Columbia in

  • English Literature, actually. And I studied the 19th century metropolitan novel, so I

  • spent a lot of time on the cultural history of London and the city. So, some of "Ghost

  • Map" is out of that, but I always had a technology interest. And so, when I was still in grad

  • school, I started "Feed", the first online magazine that had established writers writing

  • for it. And really, in a way, that's become a lot more common now. It built my writing

  • career by publishing myself and my friends at my web scene, basically. We didn't have

  • blogs back then, we had web magazines. And so I sold my first book, which was "Interface

  • Culture", about technology and interfaces on the backs of my experience with "Feed".

  • So, it was the first generation of writers who built a career for themselves through

  • the self-publishing mechanism of the Web, which is now much more commonplace. And then

  • at a certain point after I wrote that book, I looked at my shelf and realized the last

  • 30 book I've read were all science books and that was just the direction my brain was going

  • in. So, I thought, "OK, maybe I could try and do that myself." And so, I wrote "Emergence",

  • which is half technology, half science, half urban theory I guess. And I loved so much

  • this moving back and forth between different disciplines; all the things I was talking

  • about today. And the only other thing that's interesting I would say about my career is

  • that I've done these little start-ups while writing the books. And the start-ups, in a

  • way, are hobbies that I was talking about, right? I think of myself primarily as an author,

  • but I love going off and starting some new Web thing and actually going and hanging out

  • with human beings and talking to them and building something together. And each start-up

  • I've done has had a direct connection to something that I was writing, in one way or another.

  • And so, Outside.in, the hyper-local service, came out of writing "Ghost Map". I was writing

  • about communities and maps and neighborhoods and I was reading all these local bloggers

  • in Brooklyn where I live. And truly, I actually owe you all a thanks for this; the Google

  • Maps API had been released, so I was writing about neighborhoods, communities, I was reading

  • local bloggers and there's this new platform of mapping that was suddenly possible. And

  • Outside.in is the intersection of those three vectors, basically. The best thing about it

  • is that I've been incredibly lucky that I basically get to write about whatever I'm

  • interested in and sometimes my publisher is like, "Wait, what are you writing a book about

  • 18th century chemistry? What's going on?" But most of the time, they've let me just

  • do these things and trusted me, which is a great gig.

  • All right. All right, thank you for coming out. It's great to see you all here and I'd

  • be happy to sign some books.

  • [applause]

>>Amy: Hi. Isaiah Berlin wrote that "the fox knows many little things, but the hedgehog

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