How Things Begin: Duke Check

Ed Rickards, a retired lawyer and journalist, writes Duke Check, a blog about Duke University, which I enjoy reading even though I have no connection with Duke. It emphasizes scandals and bad governance but also praises. He started it in 2009. There have been plenty of scandals since then, including the Anil Potti cancer research fraud.

I recently asked him a few questions.

Why did you start Duke Check?

I started DukeCheck — originally Duke Fact Checker — because of a lack of transparency and accountability on the part of the school’s administration. You may want to review this Chronicle profile, especially the comments from the late law professor John (Jack) Johnston, about the need for such a column and my goals. I want to provide stakeholders in Duke — students, parents, faculty, alumni, workers, everyone — with the information so that they can participate and have their thoughts count. I really do not care if they agree with me or not, just so long as they step forward.

After you graduated from Duke, did you have further association with the school (e.g., worked there)?

I graduated from Duke 1963 and Duke Law 1966. No, I never worked for Duke or had any relationship other than alum. I continued to stay in touch, I wrote various letters about my feelings, but the internet is what opened it all up. and made it possible for me to write my blog from either NY (where I used to live) or Coconut Grove (dead of the winter). I have recently closed up NY and live near Princeton NJ . . . on a golf course which is a big switch.

Have you ever been a professional writer?

After brief flirtation with the law, and a job in private equity that was totally boring, I returned to my first love, Journalism, which attracted me while I was in college, and also during the summers when I worked for a local daily newspaper in my hometown. I have worked at the Associated Press, ABC, CBS and NBC, so I have been all around!

[This makes Duke Check a super-hobby — combining the freedom of a hobby with the skills of a professional. This blog, too, is a super-hobby.]

Duke has just opened a campus in China, in Kunshan, which is near Shanghai. The campus is called Duke Kunshan University (DKU). Does the DKU story point to/illustrate any general lesson(s)?

The DKU story will end with an empty campus in Kunshan. Many colleges have hit brick walls with their international adventures and this will be another. 15 years ago, Duke was gung-ho to open in Frankfurt; our president at the time, Nan Keohane, held an international news conference linked by satellite with reporters asking questions in Durham, NY, and Frankfurt. Six years, $15 to 20 million later, it died.

Duke should pursue international opportunities; but trying to export bricks and mortar to China will not fly. For one thing, academic freedom is a very strong tradition at Duke, and no Chinese leader will tolerate it. The new campus cannot teach nor allow religious services. We were founded by Quakers and Methodists.

We also see our administration going overboard on finances. At a time when money is tight, unbelievably tight, we’re exporting green like mad. The numbers do not add up: number of students, amount we can charge them. This may well be the first thing to implode, academic freedom the 2nd.

Myopia Increases Innovation

Big public works projects inevitably cost far more than the original budget. I heard a talk about this a few years ago. The speaker gave many examples, including Boston’s Big Dig. His explanation was that these projects would not be approved if voters were told the truth. The German newspaper magazine Der Spiegel has just published an interview with several architects responsible for recent German projects with especially large discrepancies between what people were told at the beginning and the unfolding reality — Berlin’s new airport, for example. The article’s headline calls them “debacles”. One architect gives the same explanation as the speaker I heard: “The pure truth doesn’t get you far in this business. The opera house in Sydney would never have been approved if they had known how much it would cost from the start.”

I disagree. I see the same massive underestimation of time and effort in projects that I do and that my colleagues and friends do, projects we do for ourselves that require no one’s approval. I think something will take an hour. It takes five hours. Plainly the world is more complicated than our mental model of it, sure, but there is more to it than that. Someone did a survey of people in Maryland who had been in a car accident so bad they had had to go to the hospital. Within only a year, a large fraction of them (half?) had forgotten about it. When asked if within the last year they had had an accident so bad they were hospitalized, they said no. Apparently we forget difficulties, even extreme ones, really fast. If you forget difficulties, you will underestimate them.

If I had realized how difficult everything would be, I couldn’t have done any of it is one explanation, which I’ve heard attributed to Gregory Bateson. From Malcolm Gladwell’s excellent review in this week’s New Yorker of a biography of Albert Hirschman, the economist, I learned that Hirschman — had he realized that this was human nature — would have had a different evolutionary explanation: We underestimate difficulties because this way of thinking increases innovation. Debacle . . . or opportunity? Difficulty is the mother of invention.

 

 

 

The Lessons of Tisano Tea

I was curious how Tisano Tea began (yesterday’s post) because it was an unusual product (chocolate tea). There wasn’t any point I was trying to make. At a party last night, however, I found myself talking to the daughter of a diplomat (Tisano Tea was started by the son of a diplomat). I told her the story of Tisano Tea. And I couldn’t help pointing out two generalizations it supports:

1. I’ve blogged many times about the value of insider/outsiders — people who have the knowledge of insiders but the freedom of outsiders. Patrick Pineda, the founder of Tisano Tea, was not an insider/outsider but he connected two worlds — the United States and Venezuela (in particular poor Venezuelan farmers) — that are rarely connected.

2. When people from rich countries try to help people in poor countries, the usual approach is to bring something from the rich country to the poor country. Nutritional knowledge, medicine, dams, and so on. One Laptop Per Child is an extreme example. Microcredit is a deceptively attractive example. In recent years, the flaws in this approach have become more apparent and there has been a shift toward local solutions to problems (e.g., the best ideas to help Uganda will come from Ugandans and those who have lived there a long time). Tisano Tea illustrates something that people in rich countries have had an even harder time imagining: people in a poor country (Venezuela) knew something that improved life in a rich country (the United States) — namely, that you can make tea from cacao husks. A small thing, but not trivial (maybe chocolate tea supplies important nutrients). An American desire for Venezuelan cacao husks improves life in Venezuela. Ethnic food trucks are a more subtle example. When immigrants from poor countries manage to make a living in a rich country — using knowledge of their own cuisine is a good way to do this — they often send money home. As far as I know, this possibility has been ignored in development studies.

My research, which shows how a non-expert can do research that teaches something to experts, is related to the second generalization. For example, my research on faces and mood has something to teach experts on depression and bipolar disorder. Although the term “home remedy” is standard, and lots of non-experts have improved their health in ways not approved by doctors, I have never heard a health expert show a realization that this could happen.

How Things Begin: Tisano Tea

Tisano Tea, based in San Francisco, sells chocolate tea. It was started in 2010 by Patrick Pineda, Leonardo Zambrano, and Lucas Azpurua. I was curious about the company because I like two chocolate tea blends very much: Red Cloud Cacao (a black tea/chocolate tea blend from Peet’s, no longer available but they will bring it back) and CocoMate (from American Tea Room).

Patrick’s father was an ambassador from Venezuela. Patrick grew up in California and England and went to college at the University of East Anglia. After studying for a Master’s in Film Production from Columbia University (New York), he started working for Al Jazerra in Venezuela making documentaries. He also worked for a local TV station making segments for a children’s program. One segment was about cacao. He learned that Venezuelan cacao beans were among the most highly-valued cacao beans in the world. The cacao beans from one valley (Chuao) sold for ten times the usual price.

While making the segment, he met cacao farmers. He discovered a group of cacao farmers whose beans had been organically certified by the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) due to local NGO sponsorship (the NGO paid for it). The farmers saw it as free training. The organic certification took lots of paperwork to maintain. The farmers had hoped that the certification would allow them to sell their beans at a premium. However, after four years, this hadn’t yet happened. At the end of each harvest, they’d had to sell their beans at the conventional (non-organic) price.

This struck Patrick as an opportunity – a niche (organic) within a niche (Venezualan). In the US, there was a growing demand for organic products. The co-op grew about 16 metric tons of organic cacao beans each year. In 2009, with the financial help of his older brother and friends, he bought 10 metric tons ($40,000). A month earlier, he hadn’t known that chocolate comes from cacao.

He soon realized there was a problem: How to get it out of the country? If taken straight out, the government would fumigate it and it would lose its organic certification. It would have to be processed in Venezuela. There were several cacao processing plants in Venezuela but to them 10 metric tons was nothing. Patrick finally convinced one of them that organic might be the future. He taught the employees how to process the beans organically while learning it himself. After that it was relatively easy to get the processing plant certified organic.

During processing, 12% of the weight is “lost” in shells that are normally discarded. Patrick took the shells with him back to America hoping he could do something with them. In Venezuela, he had met an indigenous tribal community that drank tea made from cacao shells as remedy for asthma and to sooth coughs. He looked academic journals for other uses. He eventually found about 120 published papers. The shells had been used as toothpaste and to increase the Vitamin D content of milk by feeding them to cows. The only common uses, it turned out, were as fertilizer (due to the nitrogen content) and animal feed (due to the fiber and Vitamin D content). Neither use was high-price.

What about tea? Patrick sent samples to his partners. They were unenthusiastic. “This tastes like grass. Why would anybody drink tea from a by-product?” However, he was selling chocolate butter and nibs online. With each order, he included an 8-ounce pouch of cacao shells with instructions how to brew the tea. His customers – at least, some of them – were enthusiastic: How unique, how great, they emailed him. A German woman said she hadn’t drunk such tea since World War II ended. During World War II, cacao shells had been added to tea to extend it. His customers wanted to buy more.

He convinced his partners to go to a trade show. In 2010, they went to Expo West, a natural and healthy food product show in Anaheim. Out of all of their products, the tea got the most attention. It won Best in Show for tea. Out of about 500 new products, it was one of four that won Best New Product of Show. People from Twinings Tea and Stash Tea complimented them on their product.

After the trade show, Patrick decided the tea was a good concept and decided to make it a separate brand. Dark chocolate without the guilt. No sugar, no caffeine. He launched Tisano. The name comes from tisane (herbal tea in French) and artesano (artisanal in Spanish).

When I tasted Tisano’s chocolate tea, it tasted very familiar. That’s because Tisano’s cacao shells are the cacao shells in both American Tea Room’s CocoMate and Peet’s Red Cloud Cacao. There is no doubt that Patrick has created a new niche within the American (and maybe world) tea market: chocolate tea. I don’t know how well CocoMate is selling at American Tea Room but I decided to buy it after smelling maybe 40 teas. At Peet’s, Red Cloud Cacao sold surprisingly well and they will bring it back seasonally.

How Things Begin: LightSail Energy

LightSail Energy is a Berkeley company that makes compressed-air energy storage devices. It was started in 2008 by Danielle Fong and Steve Crane. A year later, they got significant funding. When I think of energy storage, I think of batteries or flywheels or pumping water uphill. Use of a quite different technology intrigued me. Compressed-air energy storage is sometimes disparaged (“ a lousy way of storing energy“).

Fong went to college (Dalhousie) when she was 12. She studied physics, computer science, math, economics, and philosophy. When it came time to apply to graduate school, she decided she wanted to work on something important. Energy was important. She had read and admired The Limits to Growth (1972). We are running out of convenient fossil fuels, she thought. We are running out of other things, too, such as arable land and aquifers, but solving these problems would require energy.

She decided to go to Princeton and study plasma physics, hoping to improve fusion technology. It was not what she expected. Her professors were brilliant, working on exciting things, such as compact magnetic confinement devices. In the background, however, “everyone’s jumping through hoops,” she says. Her professors were constantly writing grants. Their grant proposals were hard to understand. They went to “dark and foreboding” federal organizations, where they were misunderstood. Funding was cut “randomly and mercilessly” by forces outside the professors’ control. Among the graduate students, she found “a cadre” of interesting people but most of them, she thought, were overly concerned with finding something that had not been done before that meshed with a professor’s interest, in contrast to doing something important that they themselves found interesting. She also thought the other graduate students were not concerned enough with foundational questions. There were “too many good soldiers.”

Why rely on political whims I can’t control when I can create my own fortune and fund whatever research I want, she thought. If you were a mediocre physicist at any top graduate school, you could go to Wall Street and become a quant or go to Silicon Valley and build stuff. In 2007, she talked to Wall Street quants. “I was studying their derivative and option pricing theories,” says Danielle. “They assumed that price was given by an infinite series of small independent factors.” The independence assumption struck her as unlikely because much of the market relied on the same pricing theory. “This foundational assumption was poorly founded,” she says. It works, the quants said. The market collapsed three months later. Before it did, she decided to leave Princeton (after two years) and go to Silicon Valley.

She moved to the Bay Area and started couch surfing. During her first year there, she worked on several different projects with different cofounders and consulted for a variety of startups. Her “theory” was that she would learn how things work and find the right thing to do. She met Paul Graham and consulted for Y Combinator companies. She realized her “limiting factor” – what she needed the most – was a good co-founder. “Innovation is social,” she says. David McIntosh, a co-founder of Redux Games, “read [her] blog” and put her in touch with Max Crane. Max Crane is Steve Crane’s son. Steve was helping someone else start a video game company in Petaluma that needed a part-time programmer. Danielle was living in San Francisco at the time. Steve offered her the job and offered to drive her to Petaluma. “Every time we would drive up we would talk about different ideas,” said Danielle. “I had 50 different ideas for startups.” The one she kept coming back to, kept thinking about, was making a compressed-air-powered vehicle.

A friend, Nick Pilon, had asked her, “How far can you drive with the [solar] energy you could collect on a garage roof in a day? Is it enough to handle the average American commute?” To answer this, she had to provide a solution to the problem of making a practical, efficient vehicle. Batteries were a serious problem. They are expensive, heavy, and degrade relatively fast. Better energy storage would make a solar-powered vehicle more plausible. Several years earlier, her dad had sent her a link about a car that ran on compressed air. In that case, the CEO had been arrested for fraud. The car didn’t exist. However, MDI International in France had made some progress. (Well before Peugeot.) She suggested this possibility to Steve. It could be very inexpensive and fast to refill. They could make a scooter. Steve got really excited. “I’d love to help you get this funded,” he told Danielle. Eventually he put in $100,000 and joined Danielle as a co-founder. He left his other jobs to work with her.

The thermodynamics of air compression were discouraging. (So much so that in 2009 Berkeley researchers published a paper arguing that a compressed-air vehicle would not be viable any time soon. “The BEV [battery electric vehicle] outperforms the compressed-air car [CAC] in every category. Uncertainty in technology specifications is considerably higher for CACs than for BEVs, adding a risk premium.”) When air is compressed, it gets hot — and heat may leak away. When air expands, it cools — and cold air provides little pressure. Danielle realized that you could solve both problems by adding heat capacity to the air. This could be done by adding water (mist) during compression to absorb heat and using the stored heat to warm the air during expansion. If you could continuously supply the expanding air with heat, efficiency would increase from the low 20s to 70-85%. Such an engine – driven by compressed air – would be cheaper, lighter, and more powerful.

They spoke to Ed Berlin (whom Steve called “the most brilliant inventor I know”). Coincidentally, Ed had been working on a compressed-air hybrid vehicle. They joined forces. Ed introduced them to Keith McCurdy, who advised them about financing. At a party, Keith told Vinod Kholsa, the venture capitalist, about the idea. This led to a meeting with Ford Tamer, one of Kholsa’s partners, who specialized in two-wheeled vehicles. He was more excited about what they could do for the power grid (by storing excess power during times of low demand). They had a whole PowerPoint presentation about vehicles. They scrapped it and made another one.

Steve and Ed built the first prototype. Danielle measured its performance. “Ed had a machine shop in his garage and knew how to use it,” says Danielle.

An especially important early hire (Employee Number 6) was Kevin Walter, who became Vice President of Development (developing the engine that compresses the air). He had previously worked for one of the top racing car teams in the world and had developed many race-car engines. “We knew how to build engines in theory,” says Danielle, “but he had actually built them.” He knew, for example, where to drill holes so that oil would get to the right places. He also contributed a great deal of (psychic) energy, focus, and perseverance.

Being located in the Bay Area really helped. The Bay Area has many people (in the “low thousands”) who are good at making things. One LightSail employee (Liam McNamara) made a steam-powered automobile from scratch for Burning Man and won Junkyard Wars. Another (Keith Johnson) built electric cupcake cars and an electric pumpkin carriage. The Bay Area has “an atmosphere of possibility,” says Danielle. “The idea that when you have a great idea that is doable, you should do it. No one else is going to do it. Burning Man is a condensation of this. After people come, they feel they really can do something. And once they start, the deadline helps make sure they get it done.”

The Future of Email: What I Want

In this essay, which I learned about from Alex Tabarrok, Paul Graham complains about email. Too easy for someone to send him email. Also slow. He thinks of email as a todo list. Here’s what he wants:

More restrictions on what someone can put on my todo list. And when someone can put something on my todo list, I want them to tell me more about what they want from me. Do they want me to do something beyond just reading some text? How important is it? (There obviously has to be some mechanism to prevent people from saying everything is important.) When does it have to be done?

Here’s what I want: A price per email. A service that charges people for each email they send me (e.g., $1/email). I get most of the price, the company providing the service gets a small percentage (1%?). With two additional features: 1. The initial charge is just for me to look at it. Then, after I read the email, there is a mechanism that allows me to easily charge more to do what they ask, such as give them Shangri-La Diet advice. 2. I can easily put people on a list that allows them to send me email for free.

Since Google already has Google Checkout, it might be relatively easy for them to add this to gmail.

How Things Begin (honey wine vinegar)

At the recent Fancy Food Show in San Francisco, the most impressive product I encountered was a honey wine vinegar made by Slide Ridge Honey, a small family business in northern Utah. I interviewed the developer, Martin James, about how the business and product began.

How did your business begin?

I started keeping bees when I was 9 years old. It was a hobby. When I was in my thirties, I wanted to start a business. I’d been doing flooring. Carpet, linoleum, that sort of thing. Large commercial jobs and residential. I wanted to be my own boss, control my own destination, have my own business. I started a honey business with my two sisters, one older, one younger.That was 10 years ago.

How did this product begin?

We wanted a more unique product. We wanted to expand beyond Utah. When you ship butter somewhere, it’s already there — local honey. So it’s hard to enter the market. We wanted to diversify our business so we weren’t only selling honey. We wanted higher profit margins.

My sisters and I discussed lots of possible products. Eventually vinegar came out the favorite. There are only two other people making honey wine vinegar — one in Washington State (Honey Ridge Farms), the other in Italy. If you put our products side by side, you’ll see they’re totally different.

The development took 7 years. The first step was to use honey to make wine. I got yeasts from wine shops, brewing shops, and mail order. I needed to find a yeast that was compatible with honey. The first ones I tried produced off flavors — for example, the wine smelled like gasoline. I finally found a yeast that was compatible with honey, that made an excellent honey wine. The next step was to produce vinegar. To do that I used an acetobacter — a microbe that eats alcohol and makes acid. It feels like piece of wet leather. What kombucha makers call a scooby. I found the acetobacter I needed from a vinegar maker in Napa Valley — a vinegar maker.

There was also four years of paperwork. Local, state, federal.

What has surprised you?

The reception. When they taste it, people’s eyes light up. I hadn’t prepared myself for the product to take off so well. Repeat customers buy 3 bottles. A lot of specialty chefs have taken an interest. A lot of TV chefs have come by.

 

 

 

 

 

The Legacy of Steve Jobs

Sue Halpern has written the first interesting assessment of Steve Jobs I’ve seen, in the form of a book review of Isaacson’s biography. It happens to be very negative. She says little about his now-well-known bad treatment of coworkers, friends and family (“a bully, a dissembler, a cheapskate, a deadbeat dad, a manipulator”) and focusses on the effects of Apple Computer, which are obviously much greater.

She makes one very bad point. He should not call himself an artist, she argues:

There is no doubt that the products Steve Jobs brilliantly conceived of and oversaw at Apple were elegant and beautiful, but they were, in the end, products. Artists, typically, aim to put something of enduring beauty into the world; consumer electronics companies aim to sell a lot of gadgets, manufacturing desire for this year’s model in the hope that people will discard last year’s.

“In the end, products”? “Gadgets”? Are books gadgets? I cannot imagine a future without books. Nor one without cellphones and laptops. If they are lovely and work well, so much the better for all of us. Moreover, cellphones and laptops, much more than other necessities (food, clothes, housing, transportation, medicine) help us express ourselves — our hidden inner selves — in so many ways. (Like art and books, but better.) Mark Fraunfelder made a similar point (obliquely).

“Products” and “gadgets” is Halpern’s conventional anti-consumerism. She goes on to make two equally conventional but much better points:

According to a study reported by Bloomberg News last January, Apple ranked at the very bottom of twenty-nine global tech firms “in terms of responsiveness and transparency to health and environmental concerns in China.” Yet walking into the Foxconn factory, where people routinely work six days a week, from early in the morning till late at night standing in enforced silence, Steve Jobs might have entered his biggest reality distortion field of all. “You go into this place and it’s a factory but, my gosh, they’ve got restaurants and movie theaters and hospitals and swimming pools,” he said after being queried by reporters about working conditions there shortly after a spate of suicides. “For a factory, it’s pretty nice.”

Apple had (and has) the power to improve working conditions at Foxconn. I completely agree: this was (and is) an enormous missed opportunity, for which Steve Jobs is completely responsible. No doubt he said that Apple products empower individuals (and they do) — well, how about empowering Foxconn workers?

Halpern’s final point is about recycling:

Next year will bring the iPhone 5, and a new MacBook, and more iPods and iMacs. What this means is that somewhere in the third world, poor people are picking through heaps of electronic waste in an effort to recover bits of gold and other metals and maybe make a dollar or two. Piled high and toxic, it is leaking poisons and carcinogens like lead, cadmium, and mercury that leach into their skin, the ground, the air, the water. Such may be the longest-lasting legacy of Steve Jobs’s art.

Yeah. Apple could (and can) lead the world in making their products easy to recycle. They haven’t. Entirely Steve Jobs’ fault. As Halpern says, this really matters.

Steve Jobs spent his working life (a) exploiting the commercial potential of new products (home computer, etc.) in large part by (b) caring obsessively, much more than others in his rarefied position, such as Bill Gates, about how they made him feel. Apple made products that Steve Jobs enjoyed. Fine. The problem is what Steve Jobs enjoyed. My take on him is a lot can be explained by (a) he cared little what others thought of him and (b) he lived in a tiny, uncomplicated intellectual world — as illustrated by his remarks about Foxconn and his Stanford graduation speech. Nabokov might say he had the emotional development of a child and the curiosity of an adult.

He left behind a company that reflects the shallowness of what he cared about. Those who take over Apple Computer are likely to be less shallow than he was — most people are. I predict the company will begin to care more about working conditions, ease of recycling, and other things beyond immediate user experience.

Evidence-Based Medicine Versus Innovation

In this interview, a doctor who does research on biofilms named Randall Wolcott makes the same point I made about Testing Treatments — that evidence-based medicine, as now practiced, suppresses innovation:

I take it you [meaning the interviewer] are familiar with evidence-based medicine? It’s the increasingly accepted approach for making clinical decisions about how to treat a patient. Basically, doctors are trained to make a decision based on the most current evidence derived from research. But what such thinking boils down to [in practice — theory is different] is that I am supposed to do the same thing that has always been done – to treat my patient in the conventional manner – just because it’s become the most popular approach. However, when it comes to chronic wound biofilms, we are in the midst of a crisis – what has been done and is accepted as the standard treatment doesn’t work and doesn’t meet the needs of the patient.

Thus, evidence-based medicine totally regulates against innovation. Essentially doctors suffer if they step away from mainstream thinking. Sure, there are charlatans out there who are trying to sell us treatments that don’t work, but there are many good therapies that are not used because they are unconventional. It is only by considering new treatment options that we can progress.

Right on. He goes on to say that he is unwilling to do a double-blind clinical trial in which some patients do not receive his new therapy because “we know we’ve got the methods to save most of their limbs” from amputation.

Almost all scientific and intellectual history (and much serious journalism) is about how things begin. How ideas began and spread, how inventions are invented. If you write about Steve Jobs, for example, that’s your real subject. How things fail to begin — how good ideas are killed off — is at least as important, but much harder to write about. This is why Tyler Cowen’s The Great Stagnation is such an important book. It says nothing about the killing-off processes, but at least it describes the stagnation they have caused. Stagnation should scare us. As Jane Jacobs often said, if it lasts long enough, it causes collapse.

Thanks to Heidi.

Testing Treatments: The Authors Respond

In a previous post I criticized the book Testing Treatments. Two of the authors, Paul Glasziou and Iain Chalmers, have responded. I have replied to their response. They did not respond to the main point of my post, which is that the preferences and values of their book — called evidence-based medicine — hinder innovation.

Sure, care about evidence. Of course. But don’t be an evidence snob.