New Caledonia

New Caledonia: a mine challenging democracy

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When an industrial mining complex wanted to release a pollutant into their lagoon in the late 1990s, the inhabitants of the southern province of Grande Terre took action. In their fight against the environmental and cultural danger, the citizens found it difficult to make their voices heard. Today, almost 20 years have passed since the scientific and social controversy first shook this region. Work in the area of sociology, carried out by Julien Merlin from Mines ParisTech and Mines Nancy reveals how these inhabitants succeeded in changing the game, and making their political voice heard over time.

 

It is June 8, 2006. Angry voices fill the streets in Nouméa. This anger has mobilized the 2,500 people gathered together by the indigenous committee of Rhéébu Nùù—a citizen collective advocating for Kanak interests. On this day, demonstrators once again took to the streets to demand an end to the landscaping projects underway on the Goro plateau, on the southern tip of the main island, and the construction of the associated mine site. Yet, historically, New Caledonia had not been opposed to mining. Mining activity had been going on in the territory for over a century. Nouméa was even home to a nickel mine operated by Société Le Nickel (SLN), which was founded on the island in 1880 to tap into this local mineral resource.

But the project on the Goro plateau was different. The mining activity was operated by another company from Canada: Inco. When the company decided to establish a mine here in 1999, it proposed an innovative project, which broke with the extraction and upgrading methods the other New Caledonian mining complexes had been using. Inco was interested in the nickel found in laterites, a different rock type than the garnierite sought after by its competitors. However, a different type of process is used to extract the nickel from the laterites. The hydrometallurgical process that is required leads to the release of a chemical element, manganese, that Inco planned to discharge into the New Caledonian lagoon. But the inhabitants living near the Goro plateau said “no”. This was the start of a long social and scientific debate that remains emblematic of citizen mobilization that can succeed in creating new values.

As a sociologist specializing in controversies with Mines Nancy and Mines ParisTech, Julien Merlin is particularly interested in social conflicts related to mining operations. The “Goro-nickel” project initiated by Inco is his favorite topic—and the focus of the thesis he will complete next fall. He presented part of this thesis at a scientific seminar organized by the Mine & Société Network of Excellence on May 16, 2017 at Mines ParisTech. By analyzing disputes between citizens, administrations and companies, he studies how new demands arise and how stakeholders structure their action. In the background, what is unfolding is a new way of organizing democratic life on a local level. How do these controversies lead to the creation of an identity citizens connect with? What connections are created between civil society actors in order to promote citizen expertise, and how is this expertise recognized?

The young researcher sees the Goro-nickel as emblematic of these issues. When the first voices were heard speaking out against the project in 2002, they were dissonant. On the one hand, the Kanak tribes made economic demands. “The indigenous community demanded that the entire subcontracting sector related to the factory, such as earthmoving operations and staff catering facilities, be assigned to local Kanak companies,” Julien Merlin explains. On the other hand, environmental organizations, like Corail Vivant, fought for the preservation of the New Caledonian lagoon, so that it could become a UNESCO world heritage site. And a pipe dumping manganese into the ocean represented a serious obstacle in obtaining this designation.

Strength in Unity

It’s hard to imagine any motive that would bring these two different arguments together. However, over the next two or three years, the environmental organizations forged relationships that did not previously exist with Kanak tribes to create a common cause. “We have to understand that behind the indigenous peoples’ economic motivations was an assertion of their identity,” the sociologist explains. “What they were seeking, above all, was a recognition of their link to the land, within the context of an economic imbalance between the Kanak population and the population descended from colonial settlers.”

Little by little, the two movements began to harmonize. The two groups came together under one banner set to kill two birds with one stone. The assertion of identity and the economic demands now became the movement in defense of cultural and natural heritage. The local Rhéébu Nùù collective drew on international legal tools, defined by the UN, in defense of traditional indigenous intellectual property. For example, based on an article of the United Nations Convention on Biological Diversity, the Kanak citizens asserted the right to monitor the land development of their territory based on their status as an indigenous population. They saw the New Caledonian environment as an integral part of their culture and history: they must have decision-making power in these issues.

Protection of the New Caledonian lagoon became a common cause that united the actors speaking out against the Goro-Nickel project. Photo: Thomas Pesquet.

 

“The actors coming together in this way, as the direct result of Goro-nickel project controversy, created new values and new identity,” Julien Merlin points out. “Before these two groups formed a common cause, the discourse related to indigenous identity in New Caledonia was primarily nationalistic.” The Goro-nickel controversy therefore caused a new type of discourse on identity, based on heritage and the connection to nature. Locally, the Rhéébu Nùù collective’s influence was so great that in the Yaté municipality, near the Goro plateau, mayor Étienne Ouetcho was elected on the collective’s ticket and held office from 2008 to 2014. It was the first time since 1977 that the FLNKS independentist party was replaced in the city’s administration—before again winning the municipal elections in 2014. This change can also apparent regarding environmental issues. Whereas before these issues received little attention, they are now key components in New Caledonia’s political debates. “At the same time as this new indigenous identity was emerging, a new identity was also created for the land, as an environment that must be protected,” the researcher explains.

Citizen expertise  

The reason this new discourse on environmental issues and identity has resulted in such a strong local response, is that it was able to gain legitimacy, putting the Goro-nickel project on hold for several years. Throughout the entire first phase of the controversy, the organizations forming a common cause were not being heard due to the absence of an established institutional mechanism that could increase their impact. In addition, their inability to provide any expertise to counter the project engineers and scientists was systematically emphasized.

So how did the citizens succeed in changing this situation? “In response to the refusal to hear their arguments, the organizations and local population went to the industrial site to destroy equipment, stop the construction work, and prevent the work site from continuing any further,” explains Julien Merlin. When they found it impossible to make their voices heard, the citizens chose “a situation of extreme violence,” the researcher explains. To handle this situation, the local authorities decided to create an information, consultation and oversight committee (CICS) to assess the environmental impacts of the Goro site. The committee brought together representatives from the government, Inco company, and the Rhéébu Nùù collective. Each with their analyses and specialists.

With the establishment of this consultation committee to examine the assessments and counter-assessments, the manganese problem could be introduced into the discussions. The technical demands were also heard. Problems such as the amount of manganese released into the lagoon, were therefore brought to the forefront. The company had planned to release 100 milligrams per liter of water into the ocean, whereas legislation in mainland France only authorized amounts 100 times less than this. The organizations were also able to present its case using local expertise on the lagoon’s current patterns, demonstrating an accumulation of manganese that would be higher in this context than in the context of coastal regions in mainland France.

 

[padding right=”10%” left=”30%”]« In the Goro-nickel project case, the citizens perfectly demonstrated their ability to understand the social and technical issues. »[/padding]

 

“In this case, the technical issue truly brought forth an issue of democracy at the micro-local level: how can small-scale citizen demands be taken into account?” Julien Merlin observes. And it built on a criticism often made concerning citizens involved in this type of struggle: “This mobilization is clearly deeper than an instinctive refusal based solely on factory’s geographical proximity.” The “not in my backyard” syndrome, or Nimby, as some scientists refer to it, is too limited to encompass the deep motivations of the indigenous community and environmentalists. “This approach views citizen action almost as pathological: people take action because they do not understand the problems. But in the Goro-nickel project case, the citizens perfectly demonstrated their ability to understand the social and technical issues.”

The lessons from Goro-nickel

Has the New Caledonian case changed consultation processes on a larger scale, by influencing other regional planning projects? It’s a tricky question. First because the New Caledonian administration is independent, making the transfer of political practices complex. Secondly, the social and cultural issues differ depending on the context. The mineral drilling project at the Merléac site in Brittany recently made the news after coming to a halt due to citizen mobilization and government announcements. Julien Merlin—who is also studying this case—emphasizes that the Merléac project, for example, does not have the same implications in terms of identity issues as those involved in the Goro-Nickel project. The consultation mechanisms that work well in one situation are not necessarily effective in another situation.

However, a few initiatives have shown that the French administration is trying to take this new mobilization dimension into account at the national level. One such initiative, launched in April 2015 by Emmanuel Macron when he was France’s Minister of Economy, Industry and Digital Affairs, is worth mentioning. In his role in charge of the mining projects associated with his ministry, he launched the initiative entitled “Responsible Mining” (“Mine responsable”) to ensure that these sites met the requirements of the new national sustainable development strategy. Yet the consultation aimed at bringing the stakeholders together did not prove successful. “The environmental organizations chose to withdraw from the process,” the young sociologist recalls. “They were not satisfied with the format of the consultation. This shows that the real problem is linked to the representation issue: how can organizations, experts, and industrial players all be fairly represented?” The administration appears to be seeking answers to this question. For example, in late May, Nicolas Hulot, the new Minister of Ecological and Solidarity Transition, announced that he wanted to commission an independent study of the Merléac drilling project.

Hidden behind this issue are questions of democracy and legislation, regardless of where the controversy takes place. By using technical, identity and economic arguments, the organizations openly question what the projects’ impacts will be. They question what the economic consequences will be at the local level, and call into question the general interest of resuming mining operations in France. Furthermore, their objections often highlight the outdated Mining Code. Few changes have been made to this code over the past few decades, and those changes were primarily related to post-mining:  management of the former mining sites, upgrading the facilities… The organizations contest the mining timetable that pushes projects through before a comprehensive reform of the code, which must be brought into line with the Environmental Code. 

What does the future hold for Goro?

Now back to Yaté and the Goro plateau, where do things stand today? In 2006, the Brazilian company Vale acquired the Inco project, and continued the consultation process with the various stakeholders, including the citizen associations. The environmentalists and indigenous organizations no longer form a common cause, but primarily for procedural reasons: each group is represented within the consultation associations. In order to limit the release of manganese in the lagoon, Vale chose not to complete the hydrometallurgical process on site. The company therefore complies with legislation of mainland France by only releasing a quantity that is less than the threshold amount of 1 milligram per liter of water. To accomplish this, the company had to develop a new method for the processing change. The residents’ social action has therefore been become a part of the project’s technical aspect.

The operation was therefore able to begin, although protests persisted, despite 6 marine sites becoming UNESCO world heritage sites in 2008. That year, Vale suffered several mishaps, including a major acid leak in the lagoon at the southern tip of the island, a little over two years ago. The citizens and organizations are therefore continuing their fight to increase industrial safety and better protect the environment. At this point, the actors have already structured their action, and it appears things are running more smoothly than they were fifteen years ago, when the mobilization was still in its infancy. The citizen expertise has been institutionalized. The CICS still exists, and a Grand Sud environmental quality monitoring system has been created: l’Œil. Created directly following the Goro-Nickel controversy, the goal is to expand this initiative to include the entire southern province. Yet this could create new controversies. Would it be legitimate for the local Goro collective to represent the entire territory? Should new collectives be integrated in the process? One thing is for sure, the sociologists will closely study these developments.

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2 questions for Julien Merlin, controversy sociologist

Julien Merlin is conducting his thesis work on New Caledonia, funded by a doctoral contract at the Centre for Innovation Sociology at Mines ParisTech. He is also conducting post-doctorate work on the resurgence of mining activity in mainland France, funded by Labex Ressources 21 and the Grand Est region, at Mines Nancy and the University of Lorraine. In two questions, he explains the significance of his research.

Why study scientific controversies?

Julien Merlin: What’s interesting is to study the “productive” aspect of controversies. They lead to the formulation of new social identities, to the production of new expertise and knowledge, and reveal the political nature of science and technology. Therefore, the goal is not to study everything related to science and technology on the one hand, and sociological issues on the other. On the contrary, the goal is to study how these aspects are produced together.

What does the Goro-Nickel controversy contribute to sociology?

JM: Goro-Nickel is an exemplary case. An issue that could be reduced to a technical problem —the environmental impact of a pipe dumping manganese— or a social problem —the Kanak identity— exists in a co-definition dynamic. It is interesting to note that this feature is now ubiquitous, and extends far beyond mining projects. Not too long ago, it was not easy to say that science and technology raised questions of democracy. The study of controversies sheds light on this aspect. In the future, the role that science and technology should play within companies will certainly be discussed by civil society actors to a greater extent.[/box]

Trust in the digital age

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How does the concept of trust play out in the context of new technologies? At a time when blockchain technology is experiencing phenomenal success in the corporate sector, it has become crucial to examine the mechanisms involved in building trust. Behind the machines’ apparent infallible precision, there are humans, with all their complexity and subjectivity. What risks does this create? And, more importantly, what role can trust play in mitigating these risks?

Finding an answer to this question sometimes requires examining the past, and studying the current technological breakthroughs in the light of those our society has experienced before. Because, ultimately, what is trust? Isn’t it simply, like any other value, a permanent social construction that must be examined to gain insights on our behavior?

In this special series, I’MTech addresses these issues by looking at current research in the areas of philosophy, sociology and economy. It is being published to coincide with the release of the new Fondation Mines-Télécom booklet on the new balances of trust.

 

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Is blockchain the ultimate technology of trust?

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Trust, a tool for reducing technological risks?

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Trust and identity in the digital world

Risks, La confiance, un outil pour réduire le risque technologique ?

Trust, a tool for reducing technological risks?

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This article is part of our series on trust, published on the occasion of the release of the Fondation Mines-Télécom brochure: “The new balances of trust: between algorithms and social contract.”

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A sociologist with IMT Atlantique, Sophie Bretesché is specialized in the risks associated with technology. She has worked extensively on the issue of redeveloping former uranium mines in mainland France. She believes that trust between the stakeholders at each mine site is essential in better preventing risks. This emblematic case study is presented at a time when technological development seems out of control.

“Private property.” Those who enjoy walking in the woods are very familiar with this sign. Hanging there on a metal fence, it dashes any hopes of continuing further in search of mushrooms. Faced with this adversity, the walker will turn around, perhaps imagining that a magnificent forgotten castle lies hidden behind the fence. However, the reality is sometimes quite different. Although privately owned forest land does exist, some forests are home to former industrial sites with a heavy past, under the responsibility of operating companies. In Western France, for example, “private property” signs have replaced some signs that once read “radioactive waste storage.”

Inconvenient witnesses of the uranium mines that flourished in the territory from 1950 to the 1990s, these signs were removed by the private stakeholders in charge of operating and rehabilitating these sites. Forgetfulness is often the tool of choice for burying the debate on the future of this local heritage. Yet seeking to hide the traces of the uranium operations is not necessarily the best choice. “Any break in activities must be followed by historical continuity,” warns Sophie Bretesché, sociologist with IMT Atlantique and director of the Emerging risks and technology. In the case of the uranium mines, the stakeholders have not taken the traces left behind by the operations into account: they simply wanted them to be forgotten at a time when nuclear energy was controversial. The monitoring system carried out using measuring instruments was implemented on the sites without any continuity with the land’s history and past. According to the researcher, the problem associated with this type of risk management is that it can lead to “society mistrusting the decisions that are taken. Without taking the past and history into account, the risk measurements are meaningless and the future is uncertain.”

This mistrust is only reinforced by the fact that these former mines that are not without risks. On certain sites, water seepage has been observed in nearby farming fields. There have also been incidents of roads collapsing, destroying trucks. When such events take place, citizens voice their anger, begin to take action, and initiate counter inquiries that inevitably bring to light the land’s uranium-linked past. Development projects for the sites are initiated without taking the presence of these former uranium mines into account. Locally, relations between public authorities, citizens and managing companies deteriorate in the absence of an agreement on the nature of the heritage and impacts left behind by uranium mining. The projects are challenged and sometimes the issues take several years to be resolved.

 

Trust for better risk prevention

There are, however, instances in which the mining heritage was taken into account from the start. Sophie Bretesché takes the example of a former site located 30 km from Nantes. When the question came up concerning “sterile” or waste rock—rocks that were extracted from the mines but contained amounts of uranium that were too low for processing—citizens from the surrounding areas were consulted. At their request, a map was created of the locations linked to the mining industry, explaining the history of the industry, and identifying the locations where waste rock is still stored. “New residents receive a brochure with this information,” the sociologist explains. “Though they could have tried to sweep this past under the rug, they chose transparency, clearly informing newcomers of the locations linked to the region’s mining history.”

This example is emblematic of the role local culture can play in taking these risks into account. In the case of this mine, research was initiated to report on the site’s past. This initiative, carried out with former miners, elected officials, and environmental organizations, made it possible to write the site’s history based on the citizens’ knowledge. In order to prevent “history from stuttering”, the researcher followed the mining operations from the initial exploration phase to the present day. “It’s another way of addressing the risks,” Sophie Bretesché explains. “It allows citizens to get involved by accepting their local knowledge of the sites, and raises the issue of heritage in general. It’s a different way of conducting research by developing participatory science programs.”

From an institutional standpoint, trust is established when the various economic stakeholders involved in a mine site accept to work together. Sophie Bretesché again takes this emblematic example of the former uranium mine bordering a quarry. The Local Information and Monitoring Commission (CLIS), chaired by the mayor of the municipality where the site was located, brought together the former site operator and the quarry operator. “The two industrialists take turns presenting the findings related to their activities. More than an institutional monitoring program, this initiative results in vigilance at the local level. This continuity with the industrial past, maintained by the presence of the quarry, is what enables this,” she explains. “The debate becomes more positive and results in better regulation throughout the territory.”

 

Unpredictable technology

The trust factor is all the more crucial given the unpredictable nature of the risks related to science and technology. “The mines are emblematic of the difference in time-scales, between the use of technology and the management of its consequences,” Sophie Bretesché observes. Over a 40-year period, uranium mines sprung up across mainland France and then shut down. Yet the consequences and risks from the creation of these mines will continue for hundreds of years. Transparency and the transmission of information, already important in ensuring unity among the population at a given time, will become even more important in ensuring the population’s future resilience in light of risks spanning several generations.

In this regard, the mines are far from being an isolated example. The work Sophie Bretesché’s chair has conducted at IMT Atlantique is full of examples. “Email is a form of technology that is integrated into companies, yet it took society 30 years to realize it could have negative impacts on organizations,” she points out, in passing. While uranium mines and email inboxes are very different things, they both must adopt the same approach to more effectively preventing risks. In both cases, “the communities that are directly exposed to the risks must be taken into account. Local culture is vital in reducing risks, it must not be left out.”

 

Blockchain, trust, technology

Is blockchain the ultimate technology of trust?

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This article is part of our series on trust, published on the occasion of the release of the Fondation Mines-Télécom booklet: “The new balances of trust: between algorithms and social contract.”

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Due to its decentralized nature, blockchain technology is fueling hopes of developing a robust trust system between economic stakeholders. But although it offers unique advantages, it is not perfect. As with any technology, the human factor must be considered. That factor alone warrants caution in considering the hype surrounding the blockchain, and vigilance regarding the arbitrations taking place between policymakers.

 

“The blockchain is a tool of government distrust.” According to Patrick Waelbroeck, an economist with Télécom ParisTech, it is no coincidence that this technology was first introduced in 2008. In the context of the global financial crisis, the release of the first bitcoin blockchain testified to citizens’ loss of trust in a state monetary management system. It must be said that the past decade has been particularly hard for centralized financial organizations, in which transactions are controlled by institutions. In Greece, residents had daily ATM withdrawal limits of a few dozen euros. In India, bartering is now preferred over unstable currency.

In light of these risks, the blockchain solution is viewed as a more trustworthy alternative. Based on a decentralized framework, it theoretically offers greater security and transparency (read our article What is a Blockchain?). Furthermore, blockchains generating cryptocurrency offer parallel solutions for financial transactions. “Friedman and Hayek, both winners of the Nobel Prize in Economics, were supportive of alternative currencies such as this, because they offered the only means of preventing governments from financing their debts via inflation,” Patrick Waelbroeck points out. In the event of inflation, i.e. a drop in the value of the state currency, citizens would turn to alternative forms of currency.

In addition to this safe-guard aspect, blockchain technology, by its very nature, prevents falsifications and theft. It therefore naturally appears to be a solution for restoring trust among economic stakeholders, and resolving one of the major problems currently facing the markets: information asymmetry. “We are living in the age of the ‘black box’ society, in which information is difficult to access,” Patrick Waelbroeck observes. “Visibility has been lost regarding market realities. We have an example of this in the digital economy: users do not know what is done with their personal data.” An inquiry led by the Personal Data Values and Policy Chair in cooperation with Médiamétrie shows an increase in distrust among internet users. “The risk is that consumers could withdraw from these markets, resulting in their disappearance,” the economist explains.

And as the icing on the cake, the most commonly used public blockchains, such as Ethereum and Bitcoin, have what economists refer to as a positive network externality. This means that the more users a blockchain has, the more robust it is. Scaling up therefore provides greater security, and the users’ increased trust in the technology.

 

Humans behind the blockchain

The hopes for the blockchain are therefore great, and rightly so. Yet they must not cause us to forget that, as with any form of technology, it is developed and overseen by humans. This is a key point in understanding the technology’s limits, and a reason for vigilance that must kept in mind. Private blockchains have the advantage of allowing several tens of thousands of transactions to take place per second, because they are not as strict in verifying each transaction as the large public blockchains, like Bitcoin, are. But they are managed by consortiums that define the rules, often in small groups. “These groups can, overnight, decide to change the rules,” Patrick Waelbroeck warns. “Therefore, the question is whether people can make a credible commitment to the rules of governance.”

Public blockchains, too, are not without their faults, inherent in the human character of their users. Ethereum is becoming increasingly successful due to its “smart-contracts” that it allows to be anchored into its blockchain by having them certified by the network of users. Recently, an instance of smart-contract abuse was reported, in which a hacker utilized mistakes in a contract to receive the equivalent of several tens of thousands of euros. The architecture of blockchain is not at issue: a human mistake made when the contract was drafted is clearly what allowed this malicious use to occur.

The Ethereum users see smart-contracts as an option for standardizing the uses of this blockchain, by including ethical constraints, for example. “The idea being that if a smart-contract is used for illegal activity, the payment could be blocked,” Patrick Waelbroeck summarizes. But this perspective gives rise to many questions. First of all, how can ethics be translated into an algorithm? How can it be defined and must it be “frozen” in code? Given the fact that we do not all have the same visions of society, how can we reach a consensus? Even the very method for defining ethical rules appears to spark a debate. Not to mention that defining ethical rules implies making the technology accessible to some people and not others. From an ethical standpoint, is it possible to grant or prevent access to this technology based on the values the user upholds?

 

Trust and punishment

The operation of large public blockchains, though it may look simple, is built on complex human factors. “Little by little, communities are realizing that despite decentralization, they need trusted human third parties, called ‘oracles,’” the researcher explains. The oracles represent an additional type of actor in the blockchain organization, which increases the structure’s complexity. Their role is not the only one that has been born out of necessity. The difficulty beginners face in accessing this technology has led to the creation of intermediaries. “Teller” roles have emerged, for example, to facilitate the access of novices and their resources to the various registers.

The emergence of these new roles shows just how imponderable the human factor is in the development of blockchains, regardless of their size or how robust they are. Yet the more roles there are, the more fragile the trust in the system becomes. “For technology to be just and fair, everyone involved must play the part they are supposed to play,” Patrick Waelbroeck points out. “In a centralized system, the manager ensures that things are going well. But in a decentralized technological system, the technology itself must guarantee these aspects, and include a punitive aspect if the tasks are not carried out correctly.”

From a legal standpoint, private blockchains can be regulated, because the responsible parties are identifiable. A punitive system ensuring users are not taken advantage of is therefore possible. On the other hand, the problem is very different for public blockchains. “Due to their international nature, it is unclear who is responsible for these block chains,” the economist points out. And without any established responsibility, what kind of assurances can users have regarding the strategic decisions made by the foundations in charge of the blockchains? Far different from the myths and candid hopes, the issue of trust is far from resolved regarding the blockchain. One thing is sure, in the future, this question will give rise to many debates at various levels of government in an attempt to better supervise this technology.

Trust, Armen Khatchatourov

Trust and identity in the digital world

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This article is part of our series on trust, published on the occasion of the release of the Fondation Mines-Télécom booklet: “The new balances of trust: between algorithms and social contract.”

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What does “trust” mean today? Technology is redefining the concept of trust by placing the issue of identity transparency in the forefront. But according to Armen Khatchatourov, a philosopher with Télécom École de Management and member of the IMT chair Values and policy of personal information, the question is much deeper, and this approach is problematic. It reveals how trust is reduced to mere risk management in our social interactions. This new perception is worth challenging, since it disregards the complexity of what trust truly is.

 

In our digital societies, the issue of trust seems closely linked to identity transparency. In order for us to trust something, must we know who is behind the screen?

Armen Khatchatourov: It seems to me that reducing trust to an issue of identity is very simplistic. This association is increasingly present in our society, and bears witness to a shift in meaning. Trust would mean being able to verify the identity of those we interact with on digital networks—or at least their legitimacy—through institutional validation. This could mean validation by a government system or via technology. Yet this offers a view of trust that is solely an assessment of the risk taken in the context of interaction, and suggests that increasing trust is, above all, a matter of reducing risks. Yet in my opinion, this approach is very simplistic in that trust is not such a uniform concept; it includes many other aspects.

 

What are the other aspects involved in trust? 

AK: Work by sociologist Niklas Luhmann shows that there is another form of trust that is rooted in the interactions with those who are close to us. This typically means trust in the social system as a whole, or the trust we build with our friends or family. A child trusts his or her parents for reasons that are unrelated to any risk calculation. Luhmann used two different words in English—“trust” and “confidence”—which are both translated by one word in French: “confiance”. According to Luhmann, this nuance represented a reality: “trust” can be used to describe the type of assurance that, in its most extreme form, can be described as pure risk management, whereas “confidence” is more related to social interactions with those close to us, a type of attachment to society. However, things do not seem as consistent when we consider that both terms can apply to the same relationship. I would tend to use “confidence” in describing the relationship with my friends. But if I decide to create a startup with them, what I experience would be more appropriately described as “trust”. The opposite can also be true, of course, when repeated interactions lead to an attachment to a social system.

 

Does the idea of “trust” take precedence over the concept of “confidence”?

AK: Unfortunately, the difference between these two terms related to trust tends to be lost in our society, and there is a shift towards one standardized concept. We increasingly define trust as recommendations that are combined to form a rating on an application or service, or as a certification label. Economic theory has thematized this in the concept of information asymmetry reduction. Here we see the underlying conceptual framework and the primarily economic notion of risk it is associated with. Incidentally, this form of “trust” (as opposed to “confidence”) is based on opaque mechanisms. Today there is an algorithmic aspect that we are not aware of in the recommendations we receive. The mechanism for establishing this trust is therefore completely different from the way we learn to trust a friend.

 

So, is identity transparency a non-issue in the discussion on trust?

AK: Some people are reluctant to embrace pseudonymity. Yet a pseudonym is not a false identity. It is simply an identity that is separate from our civil identity, as defined by our identity card. In a sense, you have a sort of pseudonym in all traditional social relationships. When you meet someone in a bar and you develop a friendly or romantic relationship, you do not define yourself according to your civil identity, and you do not show your ID. Why should this be different for digital uses?

 

Aren’t there instances where it remains necessary to verify the identity of the individuals we are interacting with?

AK: Yes of course. When you buy or sell a house you go through a notary, who is a trusted third party. But this is not the issue. The real problem is that we increasingly have a natural tendency to react with an attitude of distrust. Wondering about the identity of the person offering a ride on the Blablacar carpooling website illustrates this shift: no one who is hitchhiking would ask the driver for his or her ID. What didn’t seem to pose a problem a few years ago has now become problematic. And today it is unheard of to say that transparency is not necessarily a sign of confidence, yet this is precisely the kind of issue we should be discussing.

 

Why should this shift be challenged?

AK: Here we need to look at the analysis, the approach at the heart of philosopher Michel Foucault’s work, of things that seemed to go without saying at a given time in history, from underlying mechanisms to representations accepted as essential components. He particularly examined the transition from one construction to another, the historical evolution. We are likewise in the midst of a new system, in which something like a “society” is attainable via social interactions. This shift in the themes of identity and trust bears witness to the changes taking place in society as a whole, and the changes in social connections. And this is not simply a matter of risk management, security, or economic efficiency.

 

Isn’t this identity-focused trust crisis contradictory in a context of personal data protection, which is increasingly necessary for new digital services?

AK: Yes, it is, and it’s a contradiction that illustrates the strains on the notion of identity. On the one hand, we are required to provide data to optimize services and demonstrate to other users that we are trustworthy users. On the other hand, there is an urge to protect ourselves, and even to become withdrawn. These two movements are contradictory. This is the complexity of this issue: there is no one-way, once-and-for-all trend. We are torn between, on the one side, a requirement and desire to share our personal data—desire because Facebook users enjoy sharing data on their profiles—and, on the other side, a desire and requirement to protect it—requirement because we are also driven by institutional discourse. Of course, my position is not against this institutional discourse. GDPR comes to mind here, and it is, as we speak, most welcome, as it provides a certain level of protection for personal data. However, it is important to understand the broader social trends, among which the institutional discourse represent only one element. These tensions surrounding identity inevitably impact the way we represent trust.

 

How does this affect trust?

AK: The chair Values and policy of personal information that I am a part of led an extensive inquiry with Médiamétrie on these issues of trust and personal data. We separately assessed users’ desires to protect their data, and their sense of powerlessness in doing so. The results show a sense of resignation among approximately 43% of those questioned. This part of the inquiry is a replication of a study carried out in 2015 in the United States by Joseph Turow and his team, in which they obtained results of a sense of resignation among 58% of respondents. This resignation results in individuals providing personal information not to gain an economic advantage, but rather because they feel it is unavoidable. These results inevitably raise the question of trust in this report. This is clearly an attitude that contradicts the assumptions some economists have made that the act of providing personal data is solely motivated by a cost-benefit balance the individual can gain from. This resignation reveals the tension that also surrounds the concept of trust. In a way, these users are neither experiencing trust nor confidence.

 

Tunisian revolution

Saving the digital remains of the Tunisian revolution

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On March 11 2017, the National Archives of Tunisia received a collection of documentary resources on the Tunisian revolution which took place from December 17, 2010 to January 14, 2011. Launched by Jean-Marc Salmon, a sociologist and associate researcher at Télécom École de Management, the collection was assembled by academics and associations and ensures the protection of numerous digital resources posted on facebook. These resources are now recognized as a driving force in the uprising. Beyond serving as a means for rememberance and historiography, this initiative is representative of the challenges digital technology poses in archiving the history of contemporary societies.

 

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]t approximately 11 am on December 17, 2010 in the city of Sidi Bouzid, in the heart of Tunisia, the young fruit vendor Mohammed Bouazizi had his goods confiscated by a police officer. For him, it was yet another example of abuse by the authoritarian regime of Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, who had ruled the country for over 23 years. Tired of the repression of which he and his fellow Tunisians were victims, he set himself on fire in front of the prefecture of the city later that day. Riots quickly broke out in the streets of Sidi Bouzid, filmed by inhabitants. The revolution was just getting underway, and videos taken with rioters’ smartphones would play a crucial role in its escalation and the dissemination of protests against the regime.

Though the Tunisian government blocked access to the majority of image banks and videos posted online — and proxies* were difficult to implement in order to bypass these restrictions — Facebook was wide open. The social networking site gave protestors an opportunity to alert local and foreign news channels. Facebook groups were organized in order to collect and transmit images. Protestors fought for the event to be represented in the media by providing images taken with their smartphones to television channels France 24 and Al Jazeera. Their desired goal was clearly to have a mass effect: Al Jazeera is watched by 10 to 15% of Tunisians.

“The Ben Ali government was forced to abandon its usual black-out tactic, since it was impossible to implement faced with the impact of Al Jazeera and France 24,” explains Jean-Marc Salmon, an associate researcher at Télécom École de Management and a member of IMT’s LASCO IdeaLab (See at the end of the article). For the sociologist who is specialized in this subject, “There was a connection between what was happening in the streets and online: the fight to spur on representation in through Facebook was the prolongation of the desire for recognition of the event in the streets.” It was this interconnection that prompted research as early as 2011, on the role of the internet in the Tunisian revolution —  the first of its kind to use social media as an instrument for political power.

Television channels had to adapt to these new video resources which they were no longer the first to broadcast, since they had previously been posted on the social network. As of the second day of rioting, a new interview format emerged: on the set, the reporter conducted a remote interview with a notable figure (a professor, lawyer, doctor, etc.) on site in Sidi Bouzid or surrounding cities where protests were gaining ground. A photograph of the interviewee’s face was displayed on half the screen while the other half aired images from smartphones which had been retrieved from Facebook. The interviewee provided live comments to explain what was being shown.

 

Tunisian revolution, LASCO IdeaLab, Télécom École de Management

On December 19, 2010 “Moisson Maghrébine” — Al Jazeera’s 9 pm newscast — conducted a live interview with Ali Bouazizi, a local director of the opposition party. At the same time, images of the first uprisings which had taken place the two previous nights were aired, such as this one showing the burning of a car belonging to RCD, the party of president Ben Ali. The above image is a screenshot from the program.

 

Popularized by media covering the Tunisian revolution, this format has now become the media standard for reporting on a number of events (natural disasters, terrorist attacks, etc.) for which journalists do not have videos filmed by their own means. For Jean-Marc Salmon, it was the “extremely modern aspect of opposition party members” which made it possible to create this new relationship between social networking sites and mass media. “What the people of Sidi Bouzid understood was that there is a digital continuum: people filmed what was happening with their telephones and immediately thought, ‘we have to put these videos on Al Jazeera.’”

 

Protecting the videos in order to preserve their legacy

Given the central role they played during the 29 days of the revolution, these amateur videos have significant value for current and future historians and sociologists. But, as a few years have passed since the revolution, they are no longer consulted as much as they were during the events of 2010. The people who put them online no longer see the point of leaving them there so they are disappearing. “In 2015, when I was in Tunisia to carry out my research on the revolution, I noticed that I could no longer find certain images or videos that I had previously been able to access,” explains the sociologist. “For instance, in an article on the France 24 website the text was still there but the associated video was no longer accessible, since the YouTube account used to post it online had been deleted.”

The research and archiving work was launched by Jean-Marc Salmon and carried out by the University of La Manouba under the supervision of the National Archives of Tunisia, with assistance from the Euro-Mediterranean Foundation of Support for Human Rights Defenders. The teams participating in this collaboration spent one year travelling throughout Tunisia in order to find the administrators of Facebook pages, amateur filmmakers, and members of the opposition party who appeared in the videos. The researchers were able to gather over a thousand videos and dozens of testimonies. This collection of documentary resources was handed over to the National Archives of Tunisia on March 17 of this year.

The process exemplifies new questions facing historians of revolutions. Up to now, their primary sources have usually consisted of leaflets published by activists, police reports or newspapers with clearly identified authors and cited sources. Information is cross-checked or analyzed in the context of its author’s viewpoint in order to express uncertainties. With videos, it is more difficult to classify information. What is its aim? In the case of the Tunisian revolution, is it an opponent of the regime trying to convey a political message, or simply a bystander filming the scene? Is the video even authentic?

To respond to these questions, historians and archivists must trace back the channels through which the videos were originally broadcast in order to find the initial rushes. Because each edited version expresses a choice. A video taken by a member of the opposition party in the street will take on different value when it is picked up by a television channel which has extracted it from Facebook and edited for the news. “It is essential that we find the original document in order to understand the battle of representation, starting with the implicit message of those who filmed the scene,” says Jean-Marc Salmon.

However, it is sometimes difficult to trace videos back to the primary resources. The sociologist admits that he has encountered anonymous users who posted videos on YouTube under pseudonyms or used false names to send videos to administrators of pages. In this case, he has had to make do with the earliest edited versions of videos.

This collection of documentary resources should, however, facilitate further efforts to find and question some of the people who made the videos: “The archives will be open to universities so that historians may consult them,” says Jean-Marc Salmon. The research community working on this subject should gradually increase our knowledge about the recovered documents.

Another cause for optimism is the fact that the individuals questioned by researchers while establishing the collection were quite enthusiastic about the idea of contributing to furthering knowledge about the Tunisian revolution. “People are interested in archiving because they feel that they have taken part in something historic, and they don’t want it to be forgotten,” notes Jean-Marc Salmon.

The future use of this collection will undoubtedly be scrutinized by researchers, as it represents a first in the archiving of natively digital documents. The Télécom École de Management researcher also views it as an experimental laboratory: “Since practically no written documents were produced during the twenty-nine days of the Tunisian Revolution, these archives bring us face-to-face with the reality of our society in 30 or 40 years, when the only remnants of our history will be digital.”

 

*Proxies are staging servers used to access a network which is normally inaccessible.

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LASCO, an idea laboratory for examining how meaning emerges in the digital era

Jean-Marc Salmon carried out his work on the Tunisian revolution with IMT’s social sciences innovation laboratory (LASCO IdeaLab), run by Pierre-Antoine Chardel, a researcher at Télécom École de Management. This laboratory serves as an original platform for collaborations between the social sciences research community, and the sectors of digital technology and industrial innovation. Its primary scientific mission is to analyze the conditions under which meaning emerges at a time when subjectivities, interpersonal relationships, organizations and political spaces are subject to significant shifts, in particular with the expansion of digital technology and with the globalization of certain economic models. LASCO brings together researchers from various institutions such as the universities of Paris Diderot, Paris Descartes, Picardie Jules Verne, the Sorbonne, HEC, ENS Lyon and foreign universities including Laval and Vancouver (Canada), as well as Villanova (USA).

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AutoMat, Télécom ParisTech

With AutoMat, Europe hopes to adopt a marketplace for data from connected vehicles

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Projets européens H2020Data collected by communicating vehicles represent a goldmine for providers of new services. But in order to buy and sell this data, economic players need a dedicated marketplace. Since 2015, the AutoMat H2020 project has been developing such an exchange platform. To achieve this mission by 2018 — the end date for the project— a viable business model will have to be defined. Researchers at Télécom Paristech, a partner in the project, are currently tackling this task.

 

Four wheels, an engine, probably a battery, and most of all, an enormous quantity of data generated and transmitted every second. There is little doubt that in the future, which is closer than we may think, cars will be intelligent and communicating. And beyond recording driving parameters to facilitate maintenance, or transmitting information to improve road safety, the data acquired by our vehicles will represent a market opportunity for third-party services.

But in order to create these new services, a secure platform for selling and buying data must still be developed, with sufficient volume to be attractive. This is the objective that the AutoMat  project — began in April 2015 and funded by the H2020 European research programme — is trying to achieve by developing a marketplace prototype.

The list of project members includes two service providers: MeteoGroup and Here, companies which specialize in weather forecasts and mapping respectively. For these two stakeholders, data from cars will only be valuable if it comes from many different manufacturers. For MeteoGroup, the purpose of using vehicles as weather sensors is to have access to real-time information about temperatures or weather conditions nearly anywhere in Europe. But a single brand would not have a sufficient number of cars to be able to provide this much information: therefore data from several manufacturers must be aggregated. This is no easy task since, for historical reasons, each one has its own unique format for storing data.

 

AutoMat, Télécom ParisTech, communicating vehicles, connected cars

Data from communicating cars could, for example, optimize meteorological measurements by using vehicles as sensors.

 

To simplify this task without giving anyone an advantage, the technical university of Dortmund is participating in the project by defining a new model with a standard data format agreed upon by all parties. This, however, requires automobile manufacturers to change their processes in order to integrate a data formatting phase. But the cost of this adaptation is marginal compared to the great potential value of their data combined with that of their competitors. The Renault and Volkswagen groups, as well as the Fiat research centre are partners in the AutoMat project in order to identify how to tap into the underlying economic potential.

 

What sort of business model?

In reality, it is less difficult to convince manufacturers than it is to find a business model for the marketplace prototype. This is why Télécom ParisTech’s Economics and Social Sciences Department (SES) is contributing to the AutoMat project. Giulia Marcocchia, a PhD student in Management Sciences who is working on the project, describes different aspects which must be taken into consideration:

“We are currently carrying out experiments on user cases, but the required business model is unique so it takes time to define. Up until now, manufacturers have used data transmitted by cars to optimize maintenance or reduce life cycle costs. In other sectors, there are marketplaces for selling data by packets or on a subscription basis to users clearly identified as either intermediary companies or final consumers.
But in the case of a marketplace for aggregated data from cars, the users are not as clearly defined: economic players interested in this data will only be discovered upon the definition of the platform and the ecosystem taking shape around connected cars.”

For researchers in the SES department, this is the whole challenge: studying how a new market is created. To do so, they have adopted an effectual approach. Valérie Fernandez, an innovation management researcher and director of the department, describes this method as one in which “the business model tool is not used to analyze a market, but rather as a tool to foster dialogue between stakeholders in different sectors of activity, with the aim of creating a market which does not currently exist.”

The approach focuses on users: what do they expect from the product and how will they use it? This concerns automobile manufacturers who supply the platform with the data they collect as much as service providers who buy this data. “We have a genuine anthropological perspective for studying these users because they are complex and multifaceted,” says Valérie Fernandez. “Manufacturers become producers of data but also potential users, which is a new role for them in a two-sided market logic.”

The same is true for drivers, who are potential final users of the new services generated and may also have ownership rights for data acquired by vehicles they drive. From a legal standpoint nothing has been determined yet and the issue is currently being debated at the European level. But regardless of the outcome, “The marketplace established by AutoMat will incorporate questions about drivers’ ownership of data,” assures Giulia Marcocchia.

The project runs until March 2018. In its final year, different use cases should make it possible to define a business model that responds to questions relating to uses by different users. Should it fulfill its objective, AutoMat will represent a useful tool for developing intelligent vehicles in Europe.

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Ensuring a secure, independent marketplace

In addition to the partners mentioned in the article above, the AutoMat project brings together stakeholders responsible for securing the marketplace and handling its governance. Atos is in charge of the platform, from its design to data analysis in order to help identify the market’s potential. Two partners, ERPC and Trialog, are also involved in key aspects of developing the marketplace: cyber-security and confidentiality. Software systems engineering support for the various parties involved is ensured by ATB, a non-profit research organization.

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Digital social innovations

What are digital social innovations?

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Müge Ozman, Télécom École de Management – Institut Mines-Télécom and Cédric Gossart, Institut Mines-Télécom (IMT)

One of the problems that we encounter in our research on digital social innovation (DSI) is related with defining it. Is it a catch-all phrase? A combination of three trendy words? Digital social innovations (DSI) are often associated with positive meanings, like openness, collaboration or inclusion, as opposed to more commercially oriented innovations. In trying to define such a contested concept as digital social innovation, we should strive to disentangle it from its positive aura.

The following figure is helpful for a start. Digital social innovation lies at the intersection of three spheres: innovation, social and environmental problems, and digital technologies.

Authors’ own.

The first sphere is innovation. It refers to the development and diffusion of a (technological, social…) novelty that is not used yet in the market or sector or country where it is being introduced. The second sphere concerns the solutions put in place to address social and environmental problems, for example through public policies, research projects, new practices, civil society actions, business activities, or by decentralising the distribution of power and resources through social movements. For example, social inclusion measures facilitate, enable and open up channels for people to participate in social life, regardless of their age, sex, disability, race, ethnicity, origin, religion or socioeconomic status (e.g. the positive discrimination measures that enable minority students to enter universities). Finally, the third sphere relates to digital technologies, which concern hardware and software technologies used to collect, process, and diffuse information.

 

From innovative ideas to diffused practices

Many digital technologies are no longer considered innovations in 2017, at least in Europe, where they have become mainstream. For example, according to [Eurostat] only 15 % of the EU population do not have access to the Internet. On the other hand, some digital technologies are novel ones (area C in the figure), such as the service Victor & Charles, which enables hotel managers to access the social-media profile of their clients in order to best meet their needs.

As regards the yellow sphere, many of its solutions to social and environmental problems are neither digital nor innovative. They relate to more traditional ways of fighting social exclusion or pollution, for example. To solve housing problems in France, the HLM system (habitations à loyer modéré) was introduced after the World War II to provide subsidised housing to low-income households. When introduced it was an innovative solution, but it has now been institutionalised.

At the intersection between the solutions and digital technologies we find the area B which does not intersect with the blue innovation sphere. There we find digital solutions to social and environmental problems which are not innovative, such as the monthly electronic newsletter Atouts from OPH (Fédération nationale des Offices Publics de l’Habitat), a federation of institutions in charge of the HLM system, which uses the newsletter to foster best practices among HLM agencies in France. We also find innovations that aim to solve social and environmental problems which are not digital (area A). For example, the French start-up Baluchon builds affordable wooden and DIY micro-houses that enable low-income people to live independently. As for area C, it concerns innovative digital technologies which do not aim to solve a social or environmental problem, such as a 3D tablet.

 

Using digital technologies to address real-world problems

In the area where the three spheres intersect lie digital social innovations. DSI can thus be defined as novelties that use, develop, or rely on digital technologies to address social and/or environmental problems. They include a broad group of digital platforms which facilitate peer-to-peer interactions and the mobilisation of people in order to solve social and/or environmental problems. Neighbourhood information systems, civic engagement platforms, volunteered geographic information systems, crowdfunding platforms for sustainability or social issues, are some of the cases of the DSI area.

For example, the Ushahidi application, designed to map violent acts following the 2008 elections in Kenya, aggregates and diffuses information collected by citizens about urban violence, which enables citizens and local authorities to take precautionary measures. As for the I Wheel Share application, it facilitates the collection and diffusion of information about urban (positive and negative) experiences that may be useful to disabled people. Two other examples involve the use of a digital hardware (other than a smartphone). First, KoomBook, created by the NGO Librarians Without Borders, is an electronic box using a wifi hotspot to provide key educational resources to people deprived of Internet access. Second, the portable sensor developed by the Plume Labs company, which can be used as a key holder, measures local air pollution in real time and diffuses collected data to the community.

 

Theoretical clarity, practical imprecision

But as it always happens with categorisations, boundaries are not as clear-cut as it may seem on a figure. In our case, there is a grey area surrounding digital social innovations. For example, if a technology makes it easier for a lot of people to access certain goods or services (short-term recreational housing, individual urban mobility…), does it solve a social problem? The answer is clouded with the positive meaning attached to digital innovations, which can conflict with their possible negative social and environmental impacts (e.g., they might generate unfair competition or strong rebound effects).

Take the case of Airbnb: according to our definition, it could be considered a digital social innovation. It relies on a digital platform through which a traveller can find cheaper accommodations while possibly discovering local people and lifestyles. Besides avoiding the anonymity of hotels, tailored services are now offered to clients of the platform. Do you want to take a koto course while having your matcha tea in a Japanese culture house? This Airbnb “experience” will cost you 63 euros. Airbnb enables (some) people to earn extra income.

www.airbnb.com

 

But the system can also cause the loss of established capabilities and knowledge, and exclude locals who may not have the necessary digital literacy (neither lodgings located in central urban areas). While Airbnb customers might enjoy the wide range of offers available on the platform as well as local cultural highlights sold in a two-hour pack, an unknown and ignored local culture lies on the poor side of the digital (and economic) divide.

 

Measuring the social impact

Without having robust indicators of the social impact of DSI, it is difficult to clarify this grey area and to solve the problem of definition. But constructing ex-ante and ex-post indicators of social impact is not easy from a scientific point of view. Moreover it is difficult to obtain user data as firms intentionally keep them proprietary, impeding research. In addition, innovators and other ecosystem members can engage in “share-washing”, concealing commercial activities behind a smokescreen of socially beneficial activities. An important step towards overcoming these difficulties is to foster an open debate about how profits obtained from DSI are distributed, about who is excluded from using DSI and why, and about the contextual factors that ultimately shape DSI social impacts.

The ConversationAs troublesome as definition issues may be, researchers should not reject the term altogether for being too vague, since DSI can have a strong transformative power regarding empowerment and sustainability. But neither should they impose a restrictive categorisation of DSI, in which Uber and Airbnb have no place. The involvement of a broad variety of actors (users and nonusers, for-profit and not-for-profit…) in the definition of this public construct would do justice to the positive reputation of DSI.

 

Müge Ozman, Professor of Management, Télécom École de Management – Institut Mines-Télécom et Cédric Gossart, Maître de conférences , Institut Mines-Télécom (IMT)

La version originale de cet article a été publiée sur The Conversation.

Enhanced humans

Technologically enhanced humans: a look behind the myth

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What exactly do we mean by an “enhanced” human? When this possibility is brought up, what is generally being referred to is the addition of human and machine-based performances (expanding on the figure of the cyborg popularized by science fiction). But enhanced in relation to what? According to which reference values and criteria? How, for example, can happiness be measured? A good life? Sensations, like smells or touch which connect us to the world? How happy we feel when we are working? All these dimensions that make life worth living. We must be careful here not to give in to the magic of figures. A plus can hide a minus; something gained may conceal something lost. What is gained or lost, however, is difficult to identify as it is neither quantifiable nor measurable.

Pilots of military drones, for example, are enhanced in that they use remote sensors, optronics, and infrared cameras, enabling them to observe much more than could ever be seen with the human eye alone. But what about the prestige of harnessing the power of a machine, the sensations and thrill of flying, the courage and sense of pride gained by overcoming one’s fear and mastering it through long, tedious labor?

Another example taken from a different context is that of telemedecine and remote diagnosis. Seen from one angle, it creates the possibility of benefitting from the opinion of an expert specialist right from your own home, wherever it is located. For isolated individuals who are losing independence and mobility, or for regions that have been turned into medical deserts, this represents a real advantage and undeniable progress. However, field studies have shown that some people are worried that it may be a new way of being shut off from the world and confined to one’s home. Going to see a specialist, even one who is located far away, forces individuals to leave their everyday environments, change their routines and meet new people. It therefore represents an opportunity for new experiences, and to a certain extent, leads to greater personal enrichment (another possible definition for enhancement).

 

Enhanced humans

Telemedecine consultation. Intel Free Press/Wikimedia, CC BY-SA

How technology is transforming us

Of course, every new form of progress comes with its share of abandonment of former ways of doing and being, habits and habitus. What is most important is that the sum of all gains outweighs that of all losses and that new feelings replace old ones. Except this economic and market-based approach places qualitatively disparate realities on the same level: that of usefulness. And yet, there are things which are completely useless —devoting time to listening, wasting time, wandering about — which seem to be essential in terms of social relations, life experiences, learning, imagination, creation etc. Therefore, the issue is not knowing whether or not machines will eventually replace humans, but rather, understanding the values we place in machines, values which will, in turn, transform us: speed, predictability, regularity, strength etc.

The repetitive use of geolocation, for example, is making us dependent on this technology. More worryingly, our increasing reliance on this technology is insidiously changing our everyday interactions with others in public or shared places. Are we not becoming less tolerant of the imperfections of human beings, of the inherent uncertainty of human relationships, and also more impatient in some ways? One of the risks I see here is that in the most ordinary situations, we will eventually expect human beings to behave with the same regularity, precision, velocity and even the same predictability as machines. Is this shift not already underway, as illustrated by the fact that it has become increasingly difficult for us to talk to someone passing by, to ask a stranger for directions, preferring the precise, rapid solution displayed on the screen of our iPhone to this exchange, which is full of unpredictability and in some ways, risk? These are the questions we must ask ourselves when we talk about “enhanced humans.”

Consequently, we must also pay particular attention to the idea that, as we get used to machines’ binary efficiency and lack of nuance, it will become “natural” for us and as a result, human weakness will become increasingly intolerable and foreign. The issue, therefore, is not knowing whether machines will overthrow humans, take our place, surpass us or even make us obsolete, but rather understanding under what circumstances — social, political, ethical, economic — human beings start acting like machines and striving to resemble the machines they design. This question, of humans acting like machines which is implicit in this form of behavior, strikes me as both crucial and pressing.

 

Interacting with machines is more reassuring

It is true that with so-called social or “companion” robots  (like  Paro, Nao, NurseBot, Bao, Aibo, My Real Baby) in whom we hope to see figures, capable not only of communicating with us, acting in our everyday familiar environments, but also of demonstrating emotions, learning, empathy etc. the perspective seems to be reversed. Psychologist and anthropologist Sherry Turkle has studied this shift in thinking of robots as frightening and strange to thinking about them as potential friends.  What happened, she wondered, to make us ready to welcome robots into our everyday lives and even want to create emotional attachments with them when only yesterday they inspired fear or anxiety?

 

Enhanced Humans, Gérard Dubey

Korean robot, 2013. Kiro-M5, Korea Institute of Robot and Convergence

 

After several years studying nursing homes which had chosen to introduce these machines, the author of Alone together concluded that one of the reasons why people sometimes prefer the company of machines to that of humans is the prior deterioration of relationships which they may have experienced in the real world. Hallmarks of these relationships are distrust, fear of being deceived and suspicion. Turkle also cites a certain fatigue from always having to be on guard, as well as boredom: being in others’ company bores us. She deduces that the concept of social robots suggests that our way of facing intimacy may now be reduced to avoiding it altogether. According to her, this deterioration of human relationships represents the foundation and condition for developing social robots, which respond to a need for a stable environment, fixed reference points, certainty and predictably seldom offered by normal relationships in today’s context of widespread deregulation.

It is as if we expect our “controlled and controllable” relationships with machines to make up for the helplessness we sometimes feel, when faced with the injustice and cruelty reserved for entire categories of living beings (humans and non-humans, when we think of refugees, the homeless or animals used for industry). A solution of withdrawal, or a sort of refuge, but one which affects how we see ourselves in the world, or rather outside the world, without any real way to act upon it.

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Gérard Dubey, Sociologist, Télécom École de Management, Institut Mines-Télécom
This article was originally published in French in The Conversation France

supply chain management, SCM, industrial engineering, Mines Albi, génie industriel

Supply chain management: Tools for responding to unforeseen events

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The inauguration of IOMEGA took place on march 14, 2017. This demonstration platform is designed to accelerate the dissemination of contributions by Mines Albi researchers in the industrial world, particularly concerning their expertise in Supply Chain Management. Matthieu Lauras, an industrial engineering researcher, is already working on tools to help businesses and humanitarian agencies manage costs and respond to unforeseen events.

 

First there were Fordism and Toyotism and then came Supply Chain Management (SCM). So much for rhyming. During the 1990s businesses were marked by globalization of trade and offshoring. They began working in networks and relying on information and communication technologies which were constantly changing. It was clear that the industrial organization used in the past would no longer work. Researchers named this revolution Supply Chain Management.

Twenty-five years later SCM has come a long way and has become a discipline in its own right. It aims to manage all of the various flows (materials, information, cash) which are vital to a business or a network of businesses.

Supply Chain Management today

Supply chain management considers the entire network: from suppliers to final users of a product (or service). Matthieu Lauras, an Industrial Engineering researcher at Mines Albi, gives an example. “For the yogurt supply chain, there are the suppliers of raw materials (milk, sugar, flour…) then purchasing of containers to make the cups and boxes, etc.” Supply chain management coordinates all these various flows in order to manufacture products on schedule and deliver them to the right place, in keeping with the planned budget.

SCM concerns all sectors of activity from the manufacturing industry to services. It has become essential to a business’s performance and management. But there is room for improvement. Up until now, the tools created have been devoted to cost control. “The competitiveness problem that businesses are currently facing is no longer linked to this element. What now interests them is their ability to detect disruptions and react to them. That’s why our researchers are focusing on supply chain agility and resilience,” explains Matthieu Lauras. At Mines Albi, researchers are working on improving SCM tools using a blend of IT and logistics skills.

Applied research to better handle unforeseen events

A number of elements can disrupt the proper functioning of supply chains. On one hand, markets are constantly changing, making it difficult to estimate production volumes. On the other hand, globalization has made transport subject to greater variations. “The strength of a business lies in its ability to handle disruptions,” notes Matthieu Lauras. This is why researchers are developing new tools which are better suited to these networks. “We are working on detecting differences between what was planned and what is really happening. We’re also developing decision-making support resources in order to enhance decision-makers’ ability to adapt. This helps them take corrective action in order to react quickly and effectively to unforeseen events,” explains the researcher.

As a first step, researchers are concentrating on the resistance and resilience of the network. They have set up research designs based on simulations of disruptions in order to evaluate the chain’s response to these events. Modeling makes it possible to test different scenarios and evaluate the impact of a disruption according to its magnitude and location in the supply chain. “We are working on a concrete case as part of the Agile Supply Chain Chair with Pierre Fabre. For example, this involves evaluating if a purchaser’s network of suppliers would potentially be able to face significant variations in demand. It is also important to determine if the purchaser could maintain his activity in acceptable conditions in the event of a sudden default of one of these partners,” explains Matthieu Lauras

New technology for real-time monitoring of supply chains

Another area of research is real-time management. “We use connected devices because they allow us to obtain information at any time about the entire network. But this information arrives in a jumble…that’s why we are working on tools based on artificial intelligence to help ‘digest’ it and pass on only what is necessary to the decision-maker,” says the researcher.

In addition, these tools are tested through collaborations with businesses and final users. “Using past data, we observe the level of performance of traditional methods in a disrupted situation. Performance is measured in terms of fill percentage, cycle time (time it takes between a certain step and delivery for example), etc. Then we simulate the performance we would obtain using our new tools. This allows us to measure the differences and demonstrate the positive impact,” explains Matthieu Lauras.

Industry partners then provide the opportunity to conduct field experiments. If the results are confirmed, partners like Iterop carry out the necessary development of commercial devices which then serve a wider range of users. Founded in 2013 by two former Mines Albi PhD students, the start-up Interopsys develops and markets software solutions for simplifying the collaboration between the personnel of a company and their information system.

A concrete example: The Red Cross

Mines Albi researchers are working on determining strategic locations around the world for the Red Cross to pre-position supplies, thus enabling the organization to respond to natural disasters more quickly. Unlike businesses, humanitarian agencies do not strive to make a profit but rather to control costs. This gives them a greater scope of action and allows them to take action in a greater number of operational areas for the same cost.

Matthieu Lauras explains: “Our research has helped reorganize the network of warehouses used by this humanitarian agency. When a crisis occurs, it must be able to make the best choices for the necessary suppliers and mode of transport. However, it does not currently have a way to measure the pros and cons of these different modes. For example, it focuses on its list of international suppliers but does not consider local suppliers. So we have decision-making support tools for planning and taking action in the short term in order to make decisions in an emergency situation.”

But is it possible to transpose techniques from one sector to another? Naturally, researchers have identified this possibility, which is referred to as cross-learning. Supply chains in the humanitarian sector already function with agility, while businesses control costs. “We take the best practices from one sector and use them in another. The difficulty lies in successfully adapting them to very different environments,” explains Matthieu Lauras. In both cases, this applied research has proven to be successful and will only continue to expand in scope. The arrival of the IOMEGA platform should help researchers perform practical tests and reduce the time required for implementation.

 

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IOMEGA: Mines Albi’s industrial engineering platform

This platform, which was inaugurated on March 14, 2017, makes it possible for Mines Albi to demonstrate tools for product design and configuration as well as for designing information systems for crisis management, risk management for projects and supply chain management.

Most importantly it offers decision-making support tools for complex and highly collaborative environments. For this, the platform benefits from experiment kits for connected devices and computer hardware with an autonomous network. This technology makes it possible to set up experiments under the right conditions. An audiovisual system (video display wall, touchscreen…) is also used for the demonstrations. This helps potential users immerse themselves in configurations that mimic real-life situations.

IOMEGA was designed to provide two spaces for scenario configuration on which two teams may work simultaneously. One uses conventional tools while the other tests those from the laboratory.

A number of projects have already been launched involving this platform, including the Agile Supply Chain Chair in partnership with Pierre Fabre, the AGIRE joint laboratory dedicated to the resilience of businesses in association with AGILEA (a supply chain management consulting firm). Another project is a PhD dissertation on the connected management of flows of urgent products with the French blood bank (EFS). In the long term, IOMEGA should lead to new partnerships for Mines Albi. Most importantly, it strives to accelerate the dissemination of researchers’ contributions to the world of industry and users.

© Mines Albi

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