Making It Fair

As a sophomore at the University of Pittsburgh in 2003, I enrolled in a course entitled "The Sociology of Sports" more because I needed an easy A than because I needed a sociology class. I expected the sociology of sports to be the sociology of fan-dom. I was wrong. In fact, the main subject of study was the manner in which sports teams can be improved. The instructor, an entrepreneur who began his own consulting business, worked directly with professional sports teams. He analyzed every sociological aspect of the franchise -- from clubhouse atmosphere to the (im)balance between different sectors of the team. The hypothesis under which he worked was that all aspects of the franchise must come together in a balanced and logical way such that victory is the outcome. He analyzed defense, offense, management, and specialists on and off the field. At the core of his work was this fundamental question: how can I take an under-performing team and make it into a winner?

I aced the course, and the instructor wanted to hire me. Even though I had little sociological knowledge or technical know how, the core question struck a chord in me because the whole process of team improvement intrigued me. I was the Queen of Fair as a kid, often driven to tears by the simple fact that something was unfair, regardless of whether or not the outcome involved something I wanted. The idea of compromise didn't appeal to me, unless I judged it to be a fair compromise. In other words, I have never been easily appeased. The process of making losing teams into winners was a great outlet for my passion for fairness. I loved the challenge for all its complexities, and I loved the outcome. Making teams into champions was never the goal -- it was always to make them competitive to such a degree that they had the chance to be a champion.

The semester after I studied the sociology of sports, I embarked on my semester at sea, shifting my studies toward globalization, international development, and cultural studies. My obsession with fairness found a new outlet, one which was aimed at the ultimate practice in justice: the fairness of the human condition. Until I completed my bachelor's degree, my studies focused on the political history and development of Latin America. Now, my attention is turned more toward the economic and human factors of development, and I feel the same amount of excitement for the conundrum set before me that I did in 2003. When I gaze down at the pile of notebooks, articles, developmental theory textbooks, and scholarly essays that surround me, I see the pieces of a puzzle. I'm saddled with the responsibility of putting these pieces together in such a way that societies have the opportunity to be winners. A finished puzzle wouldn't be the next economic super power, it would be a society in which people are competitive to the degree that they have the chance to champion their own causes.

At first glance, it seems an obsession with baseball and football is a petty passion for a person involved in the study and practice of international development, but upon closer inspection you can see that the two interests are just different sides of the same coin. I want to know how to take that which fails to meet its potential and create opportunities it can seize with success. I've found two outlets for this challenge, but there are many more. The front office managers of weak professional sports teams aim to provide their team with the tools it needs to compete. Classroom teachers strive to give under-performing students the tools they need to realize their potential. Philanthropic foundations work to give struggling organizations and entrepreneurs the tools they need to succeed in their aims. In international development, the goal is to give countries, governments, societies, or individuals the tools they need to actualize the goals they value.

How do you take something that performs poorly and make it into a winner? The pervasiveness of this question appears rooted in the fact that there is no single answer. The question opens a Pandora's box of complex circumstances, and it seems innately human to find the fun in sifting through them in search of combinative solutions that lead to success.

My Maple Syrup Brain

My head is spinning and I'm not quite sure what set it off. Could it be the massive amounts of development theory I am reading through each day? Or maybe it's the economic equations with their dozens of variables that set my brain on a spiraling path to insanity. Could the dizzying pace at which I have settled into life in Vancouver be contributing to the madness? Without a doubt, the sheer volume of names and faces and stories and places that have muscled their way into my consciousness must be complicating my mental state.

When it comes to school, I have theories on everything and opinions on nothing. Each book contradicts the next. Easterly says development is economic growth, and the only path to success is through incentivizing investment. But Sachs argues that debt forgiveness and education and disease control are the goals which will lead to development. Easterly mocks Bono; Sachs is Bono's mentor. Sen argues that everyone is completely bonkers -- and the only way we can measure development is by the capabilities of individuals; development is freedom. But such a broad definition of development opens the door to arguments both for and against anarchy, Marxism, capitalism, industrialization, de-industrialization, economic reform, universal education, and globalization.

I'm in Vancouver because I want to learn about development, which to me is the minimization of misery and the increase in equality among all people, not just within a given community or country. I think this requires sacrifice on the part of the wealthiest -- I see no practicableness in the idea that we can keep economies growing infinitely to the end that everyone is wealthy. No, wealth is built on the exploitation of others. To achieve equity and fairness, sacrifices must be made. The system must be radically changed (destroyed?). I'm in Vancouver, and I spend 10 hours a day thinking about all these things that need to be done. I think, I listen, I discuss, I think some more, I argue a bit, I think, I go home, I read, I think, I try to synthesize it all, and I end up turning to my journal or this blog or a friend's unoccupied ear in the hope that if I ramble long enough about all these ideas, some sort of cohesive thought will eventually form in my brain and tumble off my tongue in a coherent manner. But all that I've got is the previous sentence: 75 words of gibberish.

In an ideal world, everyone would have the opportunity to expend this much mental energy on theory and philosophy and concepts, but there would be no need because there would be no desperation for change. Even though I know that the opportunity for this thought is what separates the free from the unfree, I don't think that life should really be lived this way. Life should be simple, clean, happy. People should throw off desire, embrace reflection, nature, and the generosity of others. Buddha had it right -- but the problem with Buddhism is that we are all supposed to toss away our possessions and rely on the generosity of others in order to obtain what we need to survive. If everyone is throwing off desire and possessions, then who is left to give charity?

That was way off the point, but it's been an idea that has crept into my head more than once today, and I thought perhaps the best way to deal with its annoying presence in my mind would be to try to communicate it to someone else. It's not that the idea annoys me, but I feel that my mental energy is so pushed to the limit that any thought not directly related to Sen, Easterly, Keynes, Mosse, Harriss, the IMF, Bono, Sachs, the World Bank, globalization, the dalit, the WTO, Marxists, hippies, anarchists, and famine is mental energy that is being wasted.

But then on the other hand -- what good is my position in a "developed" society if I cannot exercise my mental capacities in the way that I see valuable? I want to think about football and chocolate, sunsets, leprechauns, the Hold Steady, Buddhism, paper airplanes, the attractive people I see everywhere, movies, Naipaul, cotton vs. hemp, and quesadillas. Thinking about that stuff is fun. It makes me feel alive. Thinking about development economics does not make me feel alive; it makes me feel like I am drowning in molasses (or should I say maple syrup?), but that perhaps someday I'll have one single great thought that could make a huge impact on the world and rocket me out of my sugary grave. So I am trapped inside my own mind. On the one hand, I want to exercise the parts of my brain that give me instant gratification, and on the other hand I want to push my brain to the absolute limit of my capacity for abstract thought, even though it is painful, frustrating, and apparently doomed to futility, since I have more questions and no answers.