02.11.10
angry villagers
Was looking at this Professor Obama post linked by Will the other day. Here was my response-
I haven’t found this attitude to hold true for the academics I know. Their failing is in assuming that people who make claims relevant to their field are a) up to speed on the latest research and theories, b) rational, and c) using the same static word/phrase definitions that their field uses. If anything, I’ve found that academics initially treat anyone who challenges their ideas as a rival academic.
I don’t think Volokh is wrong, but maybe that’s not the whole story. I work in a fairly technical field: web design. It’s not rocket surgery, but it requires a fair amount of knowledge specific to the field. We also work fairly closely with people who aren’t experts in the field: clients who want their messages posted to the Internet.
I’ve noticed a tendency, especially among clients and managers who are middle aged and older, to resent needing us. Sometimes we have to go back to clients with the bad news that their content won’t work well on the Web – image resolutions are too low, text won’t fit inside a box, hyperlinks won’t pass credentials for unprivileged users, etc.
To someone frustrated by their ignorance of technical details but desperate to get their message out, I think it can seem like we’re an elite priesthood governed by whim and secret, arbitrary rules. I’ve actually been criticized for “forcing people to dance through hoops and ask for things in a certain way before I will help them” (really, I don’t). I frequently face legalistic arguments against strictly technical problems: “You guys did it for this other site, so just copy and paste that for mine” when their data architecture is completely incompatible. Bargaining: “Just try doing it anyway. Maybe it will work.” I’ve also been called “opaque” and “uncooperative” when I cite substantive reasons for not trying these things or suggest alternatives they don’t like.
So, I’m stuck. If I go back to a manager and tell them I would rather not pass credentials in a GET or embed validation logic on the client side of a data transaction or that their links are malfunctioning in the preview but will work in production because they are coded relatively rather than absolutely, I’m accused of throwing out a cloud of jargon to dodge work. On the other hand, car analogies can only take an explanation so far.
At a certain point, a specialist must say: “You must trust my recommendations on this problem.” The entire economic basis of specialization depends on this trust relationship. A lay person may choose not to follow their recommendations because of factors external to the problem you hired them to solve, but it is deeply uncool to question the expert’s judgment and motives simply because the lay person doesn’t like what they say.
This holds true regardless of whether the specialist is a climate scientist, a web designer, a surgeon, a plumber, a banker, or a dog groomer.
I mentioned that these cries of “elitism” tend to come from an older crowd. I suspect it’s a generational divide. Perhaps the older generation grew up in an era when people had an expectation of mastering decisions in the world around them. Perhaps the younger generation is used to diving in, going with the flow, learning just enough, just in time, to get by, and moving on when that knowledge becomes obsolete. I suspect the frustration the older generation feels comes out as these cries of “elitism.”
See if this holds water:
Specialists act as the gatekeepers of success. (You rely on them to accomplish things.)
Specialists are bound by complicated rules governing their fields. Sometimes these rules are human (tax codes, standards, laws). Sometimes these rules are physical (logic, mathematics, physics). Sometimes the outcomes of these rules are unpredictable, and therefore seem arbitrary.
So, it’s natural to read personal or political motives in the decisions of specialists when one can’t figure out their decision-making process. It’s really tempting to see them as some kind of priesthood, conducting secret eldritch rituals, reading tea leaves and chicken entrails to tell you that the really expensive server you bought last year needs more gobblehurts and the wocky array won’t handle the next sherbanging.
It’s not the specialist’s fault.