I enjoyed reading this article on Wired the other day on the downsides to that apparent silicon valley cult of Effective Altruism. EA (or Alt-Eff, as I like to shorten it, for no particular reason) is on the surface of it an attractive proposition: a well-informed and clever organisation finds the technical metrics for clearly stating the most effective ways of supporting humanity around the globe, and focusses its spending on those.

The trouble is that the whole culture of rationality and programmability pervading silicon valley, added to the lack of time individuals (can) take to analyse the situation for themselves, means that metrics tend towards the overly technical, rational and clear - and thereby susceptible to omission of the humanity behind the sheer number of humans that they purport to aid.

It reminds me of the Aristotelian modes of knowledge of techne and phronesis, which relate to crafting and making (techne) and to inter-relational politics (phronesis). If you are by nature and training a technical person revelling in programming or financial analysis, you are at great risk of missing the interpersonal, or even the overall human aspect of your undertaking.

Tipping already barely stable relationships amongst societies and governments, providing targets for capture by the powerful and unscrupulous, misuse and even environmental pollution are all possible dangers that don’t appear to have been covered in the same way by Alt-Eff as the traditional on-the-ground aid agencies try to deal with.

Better than doing nothing? I’m not even so sure of that - perhaps better that the hugely rich tech bros (and their finance cousins) actually pay fair taxes to their own governments to support funding for inter-governmental overseas aid… Aid and charity are tricky, and that article goes to great depths to show why: worth a read!

I went swimming today with my daughter, happy to be back home after a week-long training course (which I should write about) near Stuttgart, to spend time with her. I am not a good swimmer, but, with the pool being fairly empty today, I managed to snatch 30 minutes in the “Schnellschwimmerbahn” (the lane reserved for fast swimmers) to work on my… OK, to try to create even the slightest bit of a semblance of endurance.

After those 30 minutes I went to the bathroom and, on the way back, I encountered one of those extremely trim gentlemen who, so utterly focussed on their sport, seem to forget about mere bobbers like me: he scowled past me twice in and out of the showers, and then found a lane to his liking. In the pool, he was indeed fast, a swimmer of such speed, apparent endurance and efficiency that I can only dream of. But with that totally understandable focus on technique and power, on his own body, he seemed to consider other bodies as hinderances. It’s how he made me feel, anyway.

That stance (floating pose?), I will admit, is something I can be accused of, too, since there really are swimmers slower and older than me, who do seem to take up room and enter into my swum furrow. It’s a sense of irritation and entitlement that feels justified but, upon inspection, isn’t really. So when I do feel that sense of irritation about the slow swimmers, I should take it upon myself to see their position to me as being in the same relation as mine to that über-swimmer (who, just as is always the case on the Autobahn, will find himself the “hunted” by other, younger, fitter, faster swimmers) - to recognise their efforts, to embrace the obstacle as a swimming challenge, and to smile.

And the best way to forget about all of that? Splashing and diving with my daughter, totally annoying other “proper” swimmers, whilst we’re at it. We don’t mean it that way, honest!