Archive for year: 2019

Ideas about diversity are often fallacious. Sociology has shown that women are seen as being responsible for their own inclusion in places where they are a minority. Chantal Morley is conducting research in this field at Institut Mines-Télécom Business School. She is especially interested in diversity in technological fields, whether they be companies, universities, engineering schools, etc. In this interview for I’MTech, she goes over the right approaches in promoting diversity, but also the wrong ones. 

 

You suggest that we should no longer approach the issue of diversity through a filter of exclusion, and instead through inclusion. What is the difference?

Chantal Morley: This idea comes from seeing the low impact of the measures taken in the last 20 years. They are aimed at women solely in the form of: “you must keep informed, you have to make an effort to be included”.  But men don’t have to make these efforts, and history tells us that at one point in time, women didn’t have to either. These calls and injunctions target women outside working spaces or territories: this is what we call the exclusion filter. The idea is that women are excluded and should solve the problem themselves. Thinking in terms of inclusion means looking at practices in companies, discussion spaces and education. It is about questioning equality mechanisms, attitudes and representations.

Read on I’MTech: Why women have become invisible in IT professions

In concrete terms, what difference will this make?

CM: The reason women do not enter IT professions is not because they are not interested or that they don’t make the effort, but because the field is a highly masculine one. By looking at what is going on inside an organization, we see that technical professions, from which women have long been excluded, affirm masculinity. Still today, there is a latent norm, often subconsciously activated, which tells us that a man will be more at ease with technical issues. Telling women that they are foreign to these issues, through small signs, contributes to upholding this norm. This is how we have ended up with a masculine technical culture in companies, schools and universities. This culture is constantly reinforced by everyday interactions – between students, with teachers, between teachers, in institutional communication. The impact of these interactions is even stronger when their socio-sexual nature goes unquestioned. This is why practices must be questioned, which implies looking at what is going on inside organizations.

What are the obstacles to diversity in technological fields?

CM: Organizations send out signals, marking their territory. On company websites, it is often men who are represented in high-responsibility jobs. In engineering schools, representations are also heavily masculine, from school brochures to gala posters produced by student associations. The masculine image dominates. There is also a second dimension, that of recognition. In technology professions, women are often suspected of illegitimacy, they are often required to prove themselves. Women who reach a high status in the hierarchy of a company, or who excel in elite courses, feel this discreet suspicion and it can make them doubt themselves.

What does a good inclusion policy involve?

CM: We carried out a sociological study on several inclusion policies used in organizations. A successful example is that of Carnegie-Mellon University in the United States. They were first asked to undertake an analysis of their practices. They realized that they were setting up barriers to women entering technology courses. For example, in selecting students, they were judging applicants on their prior experience in IT, things that are not taught in schools. They expected students to have skills inherited from a hacker culture or other social context favoring the development of these skills. However, the university realized that not only are these skills usually shared in masculine environments, but also that they are not a determining factor in successful completion of studies. They reviewed their admission criteria. This is a good example of analyzing the space and organization in terms of inclusion. In one year, the percentage of female students in IT rose from 7% to 16%, reaching a stable level of 40% after four years. The percentage of female applicants accepted who then chose to enroll more than doubled in a few years.

Read on I’MTech: Gender diversity in ICT as a topic of research

Once women have joined these spaces, is the problem solved?

CM: Not at all. Once again, Carnegie-Mellon University is a good example. On average, female students were giving up their IT studies twice as often as men. This is where notions of culture and relations come in. New students were subject to rumors about quotas. The men believed the women were only there to satisfy statistics, because they themselves had been conditioned by clichés on the respective skills of men and women in IT. The university’s response was a compulsory first-year course on gender and technologies, to break down preconceived ideas.

How necessary is it to use compulsory measures?

CM: There are two major reasons. On the one hand, stereotypes are even stronger when they are activated subconsciously: we therefore have to create conditions under which we can change the views of people within a group. In this case, the compulsory course on gender or the differentiated first-year courses enable all students to take the same courses in the second year, boost self-confidence and create a common knowledge base. The measure improved the group’s motivation and their desire to move forward. Cultural change is generally slow, especially when the non-included population is strongly in a minority. This is why we have to talk about quotas. Everyone is very uneasy with this idea, but it is an interim solution, which will lead to rapid progress in the situation. For example, the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), another case of successful inclusion, decided to open additional places for women only. Along with a very clear communication strategy, this approach saw female student numbers rise from 6% to 38% in one year and saw the creation of a “community” of female engineers.  The percentage of women admitted stabilized, and the quotas were abandoned after three years. The issue of separate spaces is also interesting. Carnegie-Mellon, for example, launched an association for female IT student which it still supports. With help from the school’s management, this association organizes events with professional females, as women felt excluded from the traditional alumni networks. It has become the largest student association on campus, and now that the transition period is over, they are gradually opening up to other forms of diversity, such as ethnic.

Is there such a thing as bad inclusion measures?

CM: Generally speaking, all measures aimed at promoting women as women are problematic. The Norwegian University of Science and Technology is an example of this. In 1995, it launched an inclusion program attracting women by taking the “difference” approach, the idea that they were complementary to men. This program was statistically successful: there was an increase in the number of women in technology courses. Sociological studies also showed that women felt wanted in these training spaces. But the studies also showed that these women were embarrassed, the notion of complementarity implied that the university considered that women’s strong points were different from men’s. This is not true, and here we see the fundamental difference with Carnegie-Mellon, which attracted women by breaking down this type of cliché.

Since 1995, has this stance on complementarity changed?

CM: At the Norwegian University of Science and Technology, yes. After the reports from female students, the approach was largely modified. Unfortunately, the idea of complementarity is still too present, especially in companies. All too often, we hear things like “having a woman in a team improves communication” or “a feminine presence softens the atmosphere”. Not only is there no sociological reality behind these ideas, but also they impose qualities women are expected to have. This is the performative side of gender: we conform to what is considered appropriate and expected of us. A highly talented woman in a role which does not require any particular communication skills will be judged preferentially on these criteria rather than on her actual tasks. This representation must be broken down. Including women is not important because they improve the atmosphere in a team. It is important because they represent as large a talent pool as men.

 

Written by Franck Guarnieri, Aurélien Portelli, et Sébastien Travadel, Mines ParisTech.
The original version has been published on The Conversation.

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[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t’s 2019 and for many, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster has become a distant memory. In the West, the event is considered to be over. Safety standards have been audited and concerns about the sector’s security and viability officially addressed.

Still, the date remains traumatic. It reminds us of our fragility in the face of overpowering natural forces, and those that we unleashed ourselves. A vast area of Japan was contaminated, tens of thousands of people were forced from their homes, businesses closed. The country’s nuclear power plants were temporarily shut down and fossil fuel consumption rose sharply to compensate.

There’s also much work that remains to be done. Dismantling and decontamination will take several decades and many unprecedented challenges remain. Reactors are still being cooled, spent fuel must be removed, radioactive water has to be treated. Radioactivity measurements on site cannot be ignored, and are a cause for concern for the more than 6,000 people working there. Still, the risk of radiation may be secondary given the ongoing risk of earthquakes and tsunamis.

Surprisingly, for many Japanese the disaster has a different connotation – it’s seen as having launched a renaissance.

Rebuilding the world

Our research team became aware of the need to re-evaluate our ideas about the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster during a visit in March 2017. As we toured the site, we discovered a hive of activity – a place where a new relationship between man, nature and technology is being built. The environment is completely artificial: all vegetation has been eradicated and the neighbouring hills are covered by concrete. Yet, at the heart of this otherworldly landscape there are cherry trees – and they were in full bloom. Curious, we asked the engineer who accompanied us why they were still there. His answer was intriguing. The trees will not be removed, even though they block access routes for decontamination equipment.

Cherry trees have many meanings for the Japanese. Since ancient times, they have been associated with 気 (ki, or life force) and, in some sense, reflect the Japanese idea of time as never-ending reinvention. A striking example is that in the West we exhibit objects in museums, permanently excluding them from everyday life. This is happen in Japan. For example, the treasures making up the Shōsō-in collection are only exhibited once each year and the purpose is not to represent the past, but to show that these objects are still in the present. Another illustration is the Museum Meiji-mura, where more than 60 buildings from the Meiji era (1868-1912) have been relocated. The idea of ongoing reinvention is manifested in buildings that have retained their original function: visitors can send a postcard from a 1909 post office or ride on an 1897 steam locomotive.

We can better understand the relationship between this perception of time and events at Fukushima Daiichi by revisiting the origins of the country’s nuclear-power industry. The first facility was a British Magnox reactor, operational from 1966 to 1998. In 1971, construction of the country’s first boiling-water reactor was supervised by the US firm General Electric. These examples illustrate that for Japan, nuclear power is a technology that comes from elsewhere.

When the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami struck in 2011, Japan’s inability to cope with the unfolding events at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant stunned the world. Eight years having passed, for the Japanese it is the nation’s soul that must be resuscitated. Not by the rehabilitation of a defective “foreign” object, but by the creation of new, “made in Japan” technologies. Such symbolism not only refers to the work being carried out by the plant’s operator, the Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO), but also reflects Japanese society.

A photo selected for the NHK Fukushima cherry-tree competition. NHK/MCJP

The miraculous cherry tree

Since 2012, the Japanese public media organisation NHK has organised the “Fukushima cherry tree” photo competition to symbolise national reconstruction. Yumiko Nishimoto’s “Sakura Project” has the same ambition. Before the Fukushima disaster, Nishimoto lived in the nearby town of Naraha. Her family was evacuated and she was only able to return in 2013. Once home, she launched a national appeal for donations to plant 20,000 cherry trees along the prefecture’s 200-kilometre coastline. The aim of the 10-year project is simply to restore hope among the population and the “determination to create a community”, Nishimoto has said. The idea captured the country’s imagination and approximately a thousand volunteers turned up to plant the first trees.

More recently, the “Miharu Takizakura” cherry tree has made headlines. More than 1,000 years old and growing in land contaminated by the accident, its presence is seen as a miracle and it attracts tens of thousands of visitors. The same sentiment is embodied in the Olympic torch relay, which will start from Fukushima on March 26, 2020, for a 121-day trip around Japanese prefectures during the cherry-blossom season.

Fukushima, the flipside of Chernobyl?

This distinctly Japanese perception of Fukushima contrasts with its interpretation by the West, and suggests that we re-examine the links between Fukushima and Chernobyl. Many saw the Fukushima disaster as Chernobyl’s twin – another example of the radioactive “evil”, a product of the industrial hubris that had dug the grave of the Soviet Union.

In 1986 the fatally damaged Chernobyl reactor was encased in a sarcophagus and the surrounding area declared a no-go zone. Intended as a temporary structure, in 2017 the sarcophagus was in turn covered by the “New Safe Confinement”, a monumental structure designed to keep the site safe for 100 years. This coffin in a desert continues to terrify a population that is regularly told that it marks the dawn of a new era for safety.

Two IAEA agents examine work Unit 4 of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station (April 17, 2013). Greg Webb/IAEA, CC BY

At the institutional level, the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) responded to Chernobyl with the concept of “safety culture”. The idea was to resolve, once and for all, the issue of nuclear power plant safety. Here, the Fukushima accident had little impact: Infrastructure was damaged, the lessons learned were incorporated into safety standards, and resolutions were adopted to bring closure. In the end, the disaster was unremarkable – no more than a detour from standard procedures that had been established following Chernobyl. For the IAEA, the case is closed. The same applies to the nuclear sector as a whole, where business has resumed more or less as usual.

To some extent, Japan has fallen in line with these ideas. The country is improving compliance with international regulations and increased its contribution to the IAEA’s work on earthquake response. But this Western idea of linear time is at odds with the country’s own understanding of the disaster’s framework. For many Japanese, events are still unfolding.

While Chernobyl accelerated the collapse of the Soviet Union, Fukushima Daiichi has become a showcase for the Japanese government. The idea of ongoing reinvention extends to the entire region, through a policy of repopulation. Although highly controversial, this approach stands in stark contrast to Chernobyl, which remains isolated and abandoned.

Other differences are seen in the reasons given for the causes of the accident: The IAEA concluded that the event was due to a lack of safety culture – in other words, organisational failings led to a series of unavoidable effects that could have been predicted – while Japanese scientists either drew an analogy with events that occurred during the Second World War, or attributed the accident to the characteristics of the Japanese people.

Before one dismisses such conclusions as irrational, it’s essential to think again about the meaning of the Fukushima disaster.