Washable nappies, green technologies and modernity

Warning: this post contains reference to human waste. (But only briefly.)

I was changing Gregory's nappy tonight. He'd filled it pretty efficiently and pretty full. The results had gone right to the edge of the nappy, but not beyond thankfully, so no need to change his clothes as well. We're not always so lucky, but 9 times out of 10 we are. At home, we use washable nappies. When he goes to nursery, we put him in disposables (to make life easier for the staff). He comes back with soiled clothes about half the occasions he goes to nursery. Some of that is down to how rapidly they change him (lots of little ones in the room, so they mostly work on a schedule rather than when he needs a change). But I think most of it is down to the quality of the nappy.

Now, the arguments for and against washable nappies are pretty well-rehearsed. In favour - they use less energy in producing the nappies, they don't leave hard-to-degrade containers of human excrement in landfill sites, they don't fill up bins and landfill so much, they save money. Against - they're less convenient, require effort to store and wash and dry, there's a higher up-front cost, and washing nappies takes energy too (this last is based on very spurious numbers but is often repeated). The bulk of the arguments for washables are essentially moral ones, and perhaps behind both arguments is a worldview about what really matters.

What doesn't get said often enough (though it's not absent from the debate) is that washable nappies work better than disposables. They hold more waste products, keep them safe for longer, and significantly reduce the risk of nappy rash.

Why is this argument not made more often? I think it's to do with the issue of worldviews. Those who use washable nappies do it because they're green-minded. Those who use disposables do it for convenience. To say that washables are more practical is to cut across these categories, so must be inadmissable in some way.

An interesting question is around modernity. When disposables first came in, they were definitely perceived as the Modern Option. Your parents used washable nappies ("terries"), huge things which could only be fixed with a pin and required a week of soaking before they could be washed. Definitely old-school. Moreover, the very complexity of the manufacturing process of disposables made them attractively Modern. And as David Edgerton describes at length in his masterful book The Shock of the Old, the process by which technologies get labelled as Modern is a very strange one, which belies the fact. Of course, contemporary washable nappies are easy to use and clean, and constantly undergoing 'updates' - but the idea that they're Not Modern persists.

So to green technologies more generally. Whether it's windfarms, hybrid cars, or even just bikes, environmentally-responsible technologies are often sold because they're greener, and the question of their practicality (let alone their modernity) is left to one side. The Prius is an exception of sorts - it's very gadgety - but it's fairly rapidly become associated with wealthy American liberals (Hollywood actors etc) for whom practicality is not the main thing. There's now a hybrid version of the Honda Jazz, a car that's very largely sold for its practicality (we have one, and it is indeed very practical) - it will be interesting to see whether the hybrid version is sold as practical++, or as practical design + green engine.

So: what would happen if manufacturers of green technologies sold them as Modern and practical, instead of as green? It would at the least be interesting to see the results.

Easter and the Apple-Pip Princess: transforming the land and making it blossom again

A couple of days ago, I was reading a favourite book with our daughter Alice, The Apple-Pip Princess by Jane Ray, and it made me think of Easter. The story (beautifully illustrated - you can see the pictures at Amazon) tells of three princesses whose task is to convince their father the king that they should inherit the kingdom. The land is dry and parched, the people in despair. The youngest princess, Serenity, decides to use a gift from her late mother to bring the land back to life, but in the seven days given by the king she can only do a small amount. On the seventh night, she falls asleep in the desolate land in despair. The next morning she is awakened by the king to see the following (quoting from the book now):

As far as her eyes could see, there were plants and graceful trees. There were fruit trees and olive trees and nut trees, all fresh and green in the early-morning sunshine. Serenity and her father walked slowly, arm in arm.

The air was full of the scent of flowers and all around them children were playing. People were picking fruit and tending the trees, and the old people were resting in the dappled shade.

The old King felt his poor unhappy heart fill with warmth again, as all his sadness drifted away on the breeze.

"Serenity, my Serenity", he said. "You shall rule the kingdom! For you have transformed the land and made it blossom again."

What a wonderful image for the new life of Easter! I sometimes think the church (especially the Protestant church) is a bit over-keen on Good Friday. We put great emphasis on the death of Jesus, talk a lot about the power of the crucifixion and the importance of his sacrifice. We spend six weeks in Lent preparing to empathise with Christ's suffering. It's important, but it pales into insignificance compared to Easter.

Easter changes everything. From despair comes hope. From death comes life. From grief comes joy. It shouldn't be possible. It isn't possible. It throws over all the expectations of the world, both of 1st century Palestine and of our 21st century world. Whether to interpret it in literal physical terms I'm not sure, though I'd certainly agree with David Jenkins (often misquoted) that it is "much more than a conjuring trick with bones". But however it happened, it cannot be ignored. As we heard in our church today, it was the conquering of death by life - "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:55).

And that's why Easter Sunday matters, more than bunnies and chocolate eggs and even more than Good Friday. And it's why the resurrection, like the quote above, transforms the land and makes it blossom again.

Information in two surprising places

In two successive podcasts from the RSA, I was very struck to hear mention of information systems where I didn't expect them.

First, Martin Simon talked of money as an information system, in that the exchange of money for particular purposes carries with it certain messages. Some of these are current: when I purchase one brand of breakfast cereal instead of another, I am sending a message both to the cereal maker and the supermarket as to my preferences. Some of them are historic: the money I possess and the way it is saved carries messages both about my values and the value society places upon my work. But Martin Simon's work on 'timebanking' also encourages us to view the way we use our time as an information system, in many ways like money but behaving somewhat differently.

Second, Tim Flannery talked of DNA as an information system. It's quite a familiar idea that viewing genetics in terms of DNA is to frame biology as information. But the additional idea for me here is the idea that DNA not just holds information but also processes it.

In work on information with David Chapman, we have often made the point that in today's society (and academia), many phenomena are now framed in informational terms which previously were seen in physical terms. These examples emphasis this trend, but also the importance of the system within which the information sits and is processed.

Life with Android 1

I was telling my colleague John Naughton, who has a keen sense of what matters in technology, of my having bought an Android phone. He sensibly suggested I keep a diary. Not sure if I should be doing it on this or a more work-related blog, but here goes…

I've not had a new-style smartphone before (i.e. an iPhone style). I previously had a Symbian phone with keypad - good Internet access but a small screen + an OS that felt a bit long in the tooth. I've had two kinds of touchscreen PDA though - beloved Psions with great keyboard & software, and a Palm with good screen (and WiFi) but a bit dated. Enough history, on to the present.

So I have an Orange San Francisco - big bright screen with great resolution, small + light, and cheap. Lots of Orange bloatware, but I can ignore that and in time delete it.
Experience so far is positive. All the PDA stuff (calendar + contacts) easy to shift from old phone via Gmail + Google Calendar. Texting + calls fine. Music player also seems to do all you might expect.

Internet access is smooth + easy, with a neat little browser. WiFi is fast at home, though it was a nasty shock to discover that it can't handle proxy servers, so thus far can only use 3G at work.

And the apps are a delight. So far I've installed: Facebook + Twitter (natch), DropBox for updating files on phone & home/office PCs, Adobe Reader, neat Barcode Scanner, and Blogger (yes I wrote this post on it).

Not a lot to dislike, though I find the touchscreen interface a bit unintuitive at times. Still to work out the best way to move around long text boxes when composing and editing text. And the resolution is so good that selecting text links can be a bit tough. Oh, and very little onboard help. But I hope to get over these in time.

More on my Android experiences as time goes on.

The miracle of daily life

Mars Hill Bible Church (in Grand Rapids, Michigan) is a rare thing, a liberal mega-church. It's also a source of wonderful sermons, which they make available as podcasts. They've just finished exploring the book of Ecclesiastes ("vanity, vanity, all is vanity" - except that as every sermon they give emphasises, the Hebrew word translated as "vanity", or "meaningless" in modern texts, is better translated as "vapour", temporary and passing rather than unimportant).

Last night I listened to a sermon from a few weeks ago, given by Shane Hipps. It was full of wisdom, but especially talked about living life to the full. Here are some extracts from near the end, starting about minute 38 (I've not noted omissions):

"There is one miracle that is as important as the Resurrection and in fact it is so important that if this other miracle didn't happen, the Resurrection is impossible. The Resurrection is irrelevant if this other miracle didn't happen first. Do you know what that miracle is? You were born. If you were never born, if you never lived this life, there is no resurrection for you. This is the miracle. It's unfolding right now before your very eyes, this is the miracle. If we cannot appreciate the first miracle of our existence, what makes us think we will appreciate the second one of resurrection? If we can't actually see how extraordinary this gift of life is right now, do you really think you're going to appreciate it when you get it again? We must learn to enjoy every moment of this passing life."

Brilliant stuff. And it goes along with something posted by a friend to Facebook, about the quality of life to be found in a baby who has the degenerative disease Tay-Sachs, but right now is full of life and doesn't know anything other than the present moment. It's a heart-wrenching but life-affirming read.

As another Mars Hill sermon on Ecclesiastes said, the past is gone; the future is yet to be. The only reality is the present moment, and our greatest joy can be found in celebrating that moment.

Busyness and leaving space for God

Written as an editor's letter for the monthly Record magazine of Abington Avenue United Reformed Church, Northampton.

Busy busy busy. There’s work to do, children to look after, committees to serve on, people to visit, things to do at the church, cooking, cleaning… Many of us lead an over-busy life – me included (so this message is for me as much as anyone else).

In the Reformed tradition, it’s long been believed that salvation comes through faith and God’s grace, rather than through any action of ours. However, Reformed Christians have also kept constantly busy, following what the sociologist Max Weber called the Protestant work ethic. The Kingdom of God won’t come about by itself, you know!

Well actually, yes it will. Our minister, Alan Spence, reminded us in church recently of “the hope to which he [God] has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe” (Ephesians 1:18-19, TNIV). God’s power is so great that our actions are small by comparison.

This doesn’t make our actions insignificant. There are great injustices in the world – poverty, hunger, violence, inequality, prejudice, environmental destruction. These injustices were created by people, not by God, and it is people who must address them. When confronted with the money-changers in the Temple, Jesus was enraged and threw over their tables. And as St Teresa of Avila wrote, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours”.

But that doesn’t mean we need to be constantly busy with our work for the Kingdom. We will achieve more if we also learn to stop sometimes, to be still, to recharge, to sit and experience the power of God wherever we find it. I have long been fascinated by how active is the verb in Psalm 23 which says “he makes me lie down in green pastures”. The psalmist doesn’t say that God invites us to have a quick lie-down, just for a few minutes, if we’re not too busy. God does not invite, God insists.

If we are not constantly trying to do things, we leave more space for God to do things for us, to bring us into new states of being, to give us strength and wisdom. That way, we will be in a much better state to be able to take forward the work of building the Kingdom – and we will have a much deeper and better sense of what that work is.

Moreover, if we are not trying to do too much, we also leave space for other people to do things for us. If we see ourselves only as givers, not receivers, then we miss a huge blessing – and we don’t allow others the opportunity to become givers to us. When Jesus washed the disciples’ feet and encouraged them to wash each other’s feet, there needed to be feet available for washing just as much as someone to do the washing.

The story of Martha and Mary is a familiar one about busyness, and it divides people strongly. For some, Mary seems idle, self-indulgent, unwilling to take her share of the household burdens; for others, Martha seems too busy, unwilling to stop and listen, uninterested in the things that matter. If Jesus is with you, what matters more – to attend to his teaching, or to do your work? Surely the answer is both. In our own lives, we must neither be just a Martha or a Mary, but a mixture of the two – a doer and a contemplator.

There is a piece of Quaker advice on this subject: “Attend to what love requires of you, which may not be great busyness”. So – work for the Kingdom, in whatever way God calls you to do, but leave space to hear his call too.

Now, what was I supposed to do next?

Where this blog get its title

"The God of Heaven is present on earth,

In word and silence and sharing,

In face of doubt, in depth of faith,

In signs of love and caring."

(A hymn by the Iona Community.)