Slow Information

2011 was the year of information. It seeped into our consciousness over the year, this idea that the volume of information now available in the world truly was overwhelming.

Fifteen years ago, few people used the Internet. Not many used email and even if you actually did, you couldn’t assume that even a small fraction of the people you knew did. So it had little currency.

Today we live in a state of daily information overload. But, I would argue, the fundamental problem remains, that of finding meaning and relevance.

When I was a kid, I was taught how to search for information. It was a slow process, involving travel to a library, index cards, often asking a person for help. And the information available to me was just the information available to me. If it wasn’t physically where I was, then I couldn’t have it.

I could ask others for help, and in so doing, I’d have access to the information to which they has access. So my reach was now wider. And they might consult with someone on my behalf, for another plus one.

Surely this was slow and as certainly this was labor-intensive. But I’m going to argue that in some ways it was superior than what we often do today.

When we did first-hand research then broaden our search by consulting others, there was a legitimacy to the process. I remember doing a research project as a kid on zoos. Aside from some primary library research, we had to talk to people who worked at zoos. We gathered first-hand accounts and perspectives. While the volume of information we collected paled in comparison to what we get today, it was deep and
robust.

Now we have instant access. From almost anywhere in the world, we can immediately find information on devices that, in 1995, made only phone calls and that very few people had. As the devices that are the conduits of information became ubiquitous, the volume quickly ramped up. Just the other day I read that the amount of information an elementary school student can access in a day eclipses that to which a
fine scholar would have had access in a lifetime less than a century ago. Phrased in this way, I envision a toddler holding a gun that can down elephants.

So if 2011 was the year of information, I think that 2012 will be the year of transparency. The true currency of information is trust. In my research example from when I was a kid, I trusted the librarians, the encyclopedia, and the people I spoke to who worked at the zoo. After all, if you want to know what it’s like to work at a zoo, isn’t it a
better idea to ask someone who does rather than enter a “query” into a “search engine?”

How many university student would you guess consult online resources when they’re considering entering a profession? I would guess a massive percentage. They go online and learn about, say, different specializations in the Law, what new associates earn at a set of firms they choose to plug into their search. There’s a lot of data online and they do a diligent job in diving into it.

How many do you think arrange in-person meetings with several lawyers? How many ask questions in person like “Are you a happy person?” “If you had to do it again, would you become a lawyer?” It’s not just asking the question (sure, that can be done online), it’s about the intimacy of the research, the reception of indepth emotion and nuance that one can only get in person. It’s about a trust that happens when said experienced lawyer whispers “Honestly, the just isn’t for me. I’m stuck and I’d love to get out. And here’s why…”

2012 will be a year where the value of information finally seeps into the public consciousness. The conversation will become about not only what we know but how we know that what we know is meaningful. We will shift from an orientation of quantity to one of quality. It’s not that we won’t use the Internet, it’s not that Google will disappear – of course not.

I like to think of it as Slow Information.

Just as the Slow Food movement brought a shift in perspective to how we thought about food and eating (and how we gathered food, and where and why), Slow Information (an elegant counterpoint, I would argue, to the hyperfastness of information today) is about meaning and meaning is currency.

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