A postinstitutional world? That's complexity

Maripier Isabelle and Emily Macrae : It's 5:30 in the morning. From the bedside table, a phone's flashing red light is a reminder that the world never sleeps, even when we allow ourselves to.

Questions, opinions and data circulate over mobile apps and social media without waiting for us to catch up.

In the past five hours, four tweets may have evolved into a heated debate while colleagues may have had a virtual brainstorming session and filled the gap left by our nocturnal silence with speculations on our intentions. Just as many private messages will have to be sent and follow-up phone calls made before the misunderstandings get cleared up and conjectures confront reality.

The speed at which ideas travel and lower physical barriers to communication fuel innovation and enable us to solve problems, from epidemics to energy shortages, that previous generations tackled using card catalogues and long-distance calls. However, the onslaught of online information raises what is expected of millennials, even before they enter the work force.

The concepts of fixed working days and physical workspace are historical notions with little relation to lived reality: The office follows us wherever we go, in our pockets, only one swipe away. These dynamics are not unique to us but, as a generation that came of age in the digital era, the management and monitoring of digital platforms from Twitter to Tumblr is an unwritten aspect of any job description.

However, the shift in expectations works both ways. Just as we encounter new expectations as employees, we have also revised what we expect in terms of connectivity from the institutions that we interact with on a daily basis, whether governmental agencies or private corporations, public services or the news media. Sharing data, operating on flexible schedules, responding to tweets and e-mails as easily as answering a phone call are all ways of operating that our generation has always worked under. We would be more willing to commit to institutions if they adopted a similar approach. We know that this transition cannot be achieved instantaneously, but our trust remains a function of openness, agility and interactivity.

Although we are less likely to trust institutions that cannot meet our standards of speed and responsiveness, we suspect that the trust deficit works both ways. Is the hesitance of both public and private sectors to make their decision-making process accessible online (and especially over social media) a signal that they do not trust the ways millennials interact with and share information? Is the reluctance of public administration to migrate toward open data platforms telling us that they do not have confidence in our capacity to interpret and analyze information? If we are expected to be connected at all times and to respond to work e-mails on weekends, why can't we access most government services through Internet portals on a Saturday afternoon?

In an era of big data, we know that information is both more complex and more available. We are not rejecting our institutions, but we are acknowledging that they exist alongside other vectors for action, channels of communication and ways of building and bridging communities. Turning our backs on our institutions would be a simplistic solution. Instead, combining a more traditional sense of collective action with new forms of collaboration is a more complex but also more complete way of moving forward. What if our generation is choosing complexity because it is synonymous with creativity, dialogue and innovation?

The complexity we choose is the price for connectedness, for the democratization of information, speech and thought. We do not feel like complexity is something to avoid, but rather something to take advantage of.

Are we in – or moving toward – a postinstitutional world? We think that the key to that question is to recognize that is it not our institutions per se that we are losing trust in. Instead, we are reluctant to engage with institutions whose capacity to connect and communicate does not match our own. We are questioning the willingness of our governments, our media, our private and supranational organizations to work with the potential of a fundamentally complex and changing society. We refuse to see complexity as a barrier: Complexity is the paradigm that we have grown up in and it continues to stimulate us.

Stephen Toope : Imagine backing out of your driveway onto a street with no traffic rules. Or moving into a community, only to be told that there are no public schools for your kids. Or searching for the hospital for your sick parent, only to learn that it has closed.

In our era, the mantra is “disruption.” We expect to upgrade our electronic devices every year or two, so anything that's been around for a long time seems static and boring. For many young adults, social connections are organized virtually and participation in formal structures like clubs or political parties is unattractive. Although there is much evidence that these young people hold strong opinions and care as much about the world as previous generations did, engagement patterns show a shift toward private actions such as signing petitions, “liking” advocacy campaigns, boycotting and making online micro-contributions to support causes.

At the same time, trust in institutions, such as Parliament, the civil service, religious bodies, unions, corporations and schools, continues to reach new lows. Hierarchy is seen as inherently bad, and ever-expanding demands for “accountability” mean that distrust in public officials is baked into the system.

Fewer and fewer people are voting. The downward trend is most dramatic among those between the ages of 18 and 35.

The decay in support for social institutions began as long ago as the 1960s, when proponents of the counterculture glorified the unorganized, the spontaneous and freedom from the “system.” The same impulses animate some of today's social movements, including radical environmentalism and the back-to-the-land movement.

But ironically, today's most powerful strains of distrust in institutions, especially public institutions, are found on the right of the political spectrum.

Anti-government libertarians argue that all public authority destroys liberty. Even in mainstream conservative circles, explicit policy seeks to shrink the capacity of the civil service.

Advocates for “smaller government” do not differentiate among the costs of security, military, foreign service, development aid and public services such as education, health and immigrant resettlement. For these advocates, reduction is required across the board. People are no longer called “citizens” but “taxpayers,” to encourage them to see the shrinkage of public institutions as in their interest.

Today, forces of technological innovation, with their inevitable promotion of disruption, meld with elements of the political left seeking an end to hierarchy and a right committed to the reduction of publicly provided goods. The product is an increasingly powerful frontal attack on the institutions that have helped build a land of inclusion and relatively distributed opportunity, and sustained a strong social fabric for generations.

Worrying about the decay of our social institutions should not be the sole province of so-called Red Tories, the inheritors of a strain of 19th-century conservatism that yearned for a return to “community,” disciplined by fiscal responsibility. Indeed, the potential failure of institutions from Parliament to schools to religious organizations to the RCMP should concern all Canadians, no matter their political orientation.

Institutions matter. One of the markers of advanced industrial societies is their rich network of institutions that support good governance, ensure security, provide needed social services and foster educated work forces. There is a continuing debate in the developing world about whether strong institutions are needed for economic growth or whether they result from the achievement of a certain income level. What is not in dispute is that successful societies thrive with strong institutions and decay without them.

Crowdsourcing may enable a startup tech company to survive another day; it may help a sick child gain access to specialized medical care. It will never replace a stock exchange or build a health system that's available to all.

Google may soon produce a car that can drive itself. But that car can function only if there are socially mandated rules of the road that allow programmers to know on what side of the street the car should run, and what to do at a red light.

Some children may be home-schooled. Others have parents who will choose to spend a high percentage of their disposable income on private schooling. But for a kid whose parents both work and who do not have access to a loose $40,000 a year, that public school down the street is a necessity.

We can't afford to live in a postinstitutional society, for that really means no society. Our way of life demands that we commit to the institutions built by our forebears. Work to reform them, of course. But don't abandon them.

Megan Kallin : The polar ice caps are melting at an alarming rate, the average global temperature is increasing, and natural disasters are wreaking havoc. We have reached a global consensus that climate change is real, it is happening now, and we must collectively take action. So, why is it that top world leaders cannot reach an agreement? If not them, then who else can take effective action?

Climate change is mired in complexity. It is a cross-border problem that affects us all. Solving climate change comes at a cost though, one that no single country seems willing to pay unless others agree to it too. Time and time again, Canada and many other top carbon-emitting countries fail to enact or sustain seemingly obvious policy solutions.

As millennials we are inheriting this problem from our parents' and grandparents' generations, due to sustained inaction. This failure to act – on climate change as well as many other important issues – leaves us with little faith in our democratic institutions' ability to solve the world's greatest problems.

Some of us who are optimists seek democratic reform and new avenues for change, while others are left frustrated and disillusioned. While we may see climate change as the most important issue of the day, how can we become politically engaged on it?

Canadian provinces also have trouble attempting to fight climate change, without a nationwide strategy. Look at British Columbia, which has imposed a carbon tax, but would not have been able to do so without exempting major emitters like the oil industry. Otherwise, it would have lost these industries to Alberta.

At the national level, on the other hand, tariffs can be imposed in order to maintain competitiveness. How can we ever hope to solve climate change without changing the behaviour of the oil industry?

These setbacks do not mean that we should stop advocating for our national and provincial governments to take action on climate change. Indeed, in order to make truly significant progress, we need to have both of these orders of government on board. Yet, progress on solving climate change does not necessarily need to start there. Given decades of inaction, perhaps it is time that we started thinking about the problem differently, being more innovative, and most importantly, thinking outside the nation-state box.

What is often overlooked in the talk about climate change policy is the role that cities and regional governments can play in helping to solve the problem.

More than half of the world's population now lives in cities. In Canada, more than 80 per cent of the population lives in cities. In addition, more than 80 per cent of carbon emissions worldwide come from cities. Cities are an important source of the problem.

So, why not invite cities to be part of the solution? There is a great deal that cities can do (and that many are already doing), like improving public transportation, introducing more bicycle lanes, developing mixed-use neighbourhoods, planting trees, and upgrading old buildings to be more energy-efficient.

There are international city organizations like ICLEI (the International Council for Local Environmental Initiatives) – Local Governments for Sustainability, which are enabling cities to act together and to share best practices. Cities do not need to wait for top world leaders to reach an agreement. International city mayors can make their own agreements with each other, or simply take action and develop their own climate change strategies.

Mayors are pragmatists and problem-solvers. Cities are constantly adapting to modern challenges, unlike our provincial and national governments, which are much more rigid institutions that are struggling to keep up to the complexity of the modern age. Cities are the world's oldest institutions, yet they have adapted.

In Canada, they may be the institutions best positioned to initiate strategies on climate change, and they have a responsibility to do so.

In the end though, we need to have a national strategy and a global one. We cannot hope to solve climate change without these. Moreover, we cannot afford to wait any longer. With the price of oil at an all-time low, there has never been a better time to put a price on carbon. Even the Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers has taken the position that they would support a nationwide carbon tax, cap-and-trade system or renewable energy incentive program.

The solution should be obvious. Yet, perhaps it will take the bold actions of our cities to finally convince our provincial and national leaders that climate change is something worth solving. Cities, lead the way.

Peter G. Martin : With anthropogenic climate change upon us, we are at a “Houston, we've had a problem” moment for the entire spaceship Earth. In this case Mission Control is, as in Pogo's “we have met the enemy,” us. What should be the public policy response?

On the one hand an honourable mayor opines a “lot of folks” view: “Someday we'll have a low carbon world. And I think it would be deeply irresponsible for us to leave that [tar sands] resource in the ground so that it will be worthless for future generations. I think the public policy indication is clear.”

On the other hand the recent Synthesis Report of the scientific Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) concludes that “Without additional mitigation efforts beyond those in place today, and even with adaptation, warming by the end of the 21st century will lead to high to very high risk of severe, widespread, and irreversible impacts globally (high confidence).” Leaving that same resource in the ground is then of great worth to future generations.

Why the deep contradiction? Is our oil a buried treasure or the sword of Damocles? Why too is there more social disapprobation of farting in an elevator than fouling the global biosphere. It is partly a matter of perspective. Evolution has equipped us with instincts to function at the village level. Thinking globally and into the future, reaching out in space and time requires more than instinct, rather a conscious analytical yet creative effort.

Looking beyond what is known is the very essence of science, a culture based on curiosity and a thirst for evidence. There is a matter of communication too. A horse can be led to water, but should a bemused scientist at the well of knowledge be surprised to confront, at first, a horse's ass? At a fundamental level the role of science in society must be to broaden perspectives and provide evidence that enables society to grapple with issues that are complex. So too is its role in public policy.

An enlightened perspective on the insignificant size of planet Earth compared to the vast universe, on the miniscule time span of “civilization” compared to the age of the universe, and that life on this Earth will surely end, might lead to cosmic nihilism. But appreciating how we are so fundamentally a natural product of the universe we could instead be absorbed by what is still unknown, seeking evidence of life elsewhere in the universe from which, perhaps, some deeper meaning might be gained on where our cosmic footnote is to be placed.

The IPCC report concludes that climate change leads to increased risks that are unequally distributed. “Climate change will amplify existing risks and create new risks for natural and human systems. Risks are unevenly distributed and are generally greater for disadvantaged people and communities in countries at all levels of development.” But among the ethical dimensions raised there appear to be no absolutes. This is perplexing given the UN Declaration of Human Rights: “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.” Why are the unjustifiable deaths from climate change ignored, not abhorred? Being displaced in space and time they matter not? Are we numbed to accept “collateral damage?”

In discussing scenarios of mitigation and adaptation the IPCC report is hardly sanguine, but rather on the melancholic side of apocalyptic. The report is intentionally non-prescriptive on policy. Not ideally then, the report is a “here are the facts” hand-off to policy makers (and their political masters – us?) who are to run with the ball. The post-Kyoto record is not impressive, what with running in the wrong direction on targets and changing the goal posts – charitably, backsliding. Even assuming no outright fumble and some eventual traction, might gradualism with its emphasis on trade-offs, process trumping results, bring new meaning to studying something to death?

Business as usual, not to mention accelerated growth to avoid stranded assets, could for some, like that genius Wile E. Coyote, offer a fine mid-air view of the canyon wall but with reality lacking a video game's oops/reset, no soft landing from the fall. In confronting this complex situation there is palpable tension. On the one hand is hubris: there are no limits to human innovation, discovery, and development. But even then, do we rely on crises and emergencies with unjustifiable deaths to punctuate the process? Should we wait to pull the ripcord when only one metre off the ground, vainly hoping that “geo-engineering” will save the planet? On the other hand, is resilience even achievable or does a complex society, now our global one, inevitably collapse? There are high stakes, with no joy in “I told you so” after the fact.

It was with wise irony that Shakespeare penned “The evil that men do lives after them… They that have done this deed are honourable.” Untaken opportunity to do good will surely be interred with our bones. Holding a significant fraction of the world reserves of fossil fuel gives us in Canada a moral advantage and responsibility for leadership toward reducing the risk of unjustifiable deaths and even mutual self-assured destruction. Scientists, policy makers, the whole

continuum of us spanning all walks of life, are in the biosphere together. To paraphrase an earlier debate: This world needs leadership. We have an option. We must do better.

This silent spring we should pause to cry for our beloved planet but not let future generations become the inheritors of our fear. It is time to reject the scourge of irrationality, resist the opiates that so distract us, and redirect the power of persuasion that has produced so cynically such a socially pre-Copernican century of self. Alongside evidenced-based policymaking we must “give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space” and so close

the empathy gap.

Hugh Segal : Complexity in government and all forms of public administration rarely happens by design. In fact, complexity often emerges when different regimes and regulatory purposes, or a hierarchy of competing accountabilities get in the way of clear-minded and straightforward engagement.

Under the immense pressure of war, Winston Churchill would write “action this day” on memos to the British public service who took it upon them themselves to decide why certain things could not happen quickly or at all. There is a famous story on this about the rusted flag poles throughout the UK that could not be fixed. A public and civil administration beset by Nazi bombings, the risk of an invasion and a war effort that was not always going well, saw no reason to bother with flag poles. Mr. Churchill concluded that this was a simple matter of morale and could not be delayed. He issued an “action this day” memo for the painting of flag poles.

We need not look far back in history to see how complexity, either by virtue of flawed translation from legislated purpose to street level implementation, has frustrated public purpose. Lyndon Baines Johnson's “War on Poverty” legislation looked very different when specific policies and administrative details surfaced on the streets of Harlem or Watts. Think about the myriad complex rules around the administration of welfare programs in different Canadian provinces that actually frustrate the poverty abatement goals of those well-meaning programs.

Reflect on how the genuinely constructive purposes of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms have been interpreted in complex ways that, for example, now mean that no one has to retire ever from some public institutions in the educational field. This is a purpose never contemplated by those, including the undersigned, who were part of the negotiating teams that worked on the charter in 1981-83. Think about the way financial, broadcast, or foreign investment regulation often work in a fashion that produces perverse and complex outcomes and procedures that do not necessarily improve the public interest. In health care, think of the different professional licensing bodies that make it harder for competent health professionals from abroad to be licensed to practice, even when there is a need for more practitioners.

Part of the challenge in government in a modern democracy is the unpacking of complexities so that a singular clarity of purpose and measurable outcome can be achieved. Too much of government is about measuring inputs, confirming processes, ensuring broad involvement from different parties rather than measuring actual outcomes. It is, of course, the outcomes that matter, in policing, in health care, in poverty abatement, in education. Yet it is the inputs (how much are we prepared to spend, how many person years are involved in the program, who are the groups to be consulted in program design?) that dominate the public debate or legislative discussion.

Part of this emerges from the estimates process which is almost always about prospective program design and delivery, or statutory frameworks, than about actual measurable outcomes. Even when a government moves to facilitate more transparency, as in mandating in law quarterly financial reports by all federal government departments and Crown corporations and agencies so that there can be a real time discussion in parliament, the media and the community at large, about comparable outcomes quarter by quarter, very few if any legislators, journalists or civil organizations (beyond the Parliamentary Budget Officer) actually engage in serious measurement.

One must also be clear that certain aspects of the public sector have an interest in the salutary obfuscation of complexity. National security agencies, finance departments, central banks, some immigration and social service regimes find complexity and conflicting goals and applications helpful in maintaining their unchallenged jurisdiction and broad discretion. Their intent may be constructive but constructing through rules, regulations, contradictory and time-sensitive criteria and related machinations a cloud of uncertainty raises complexity and its construction to an act of sheer artistry.

The challenge for governments and those who care about democracy is not of doing away with complexity – which in a multifaceted, multi-racial and economically diverse society is unavoidable. The challenge is in finding ways to reduce it, simplify it and manage it so that the complexity itself does not destroy the efficacy of public institutions but even the public desire for those institutions to exist and be of service in the first place.

Ainslee Beer and Marc Desormeaux : We live in the Age of Information. The question is: How much of it is good information? And while no doubt more data exist than ever before on how people act and make decisions, does it mean we've entered a new, sunny era of evidence-based policy making? The answer is: Not quite. And maybe even: Not at all.

And in that vagueness and muddle of contradictory numbers, the victim is trust, the public's trust in political decision-making, which is the essence not only of our democracy but of the cohesiveness of our Canadian society.

We will take as an example Keystone XL (KXL), the 1,897-kilometre-long pipeline that, if built, would carry crude oil from Hardisty, Alta., to Steele City, Nebraska. It provides a perfect illustration of the advantages and pitfalls of data in today's policy making process.

What people are looking for in data is to tell them is how to balance the project's economic benefits against the damages its operation and construction might cause to the environment. The economic impact of the pipeline is, to say the least, a matter of debate.

Keystone XL's economic benefits are usually expressed in the form of new jobs being created in the United States and Canada. However, the precise number of jobs projected varies greatly. TransCanada, the builder of the proposed pipeline, at one point claimed the project would create “20,000 new jobs,” which they calculated using the estimated expenditures associated with the pipeline. Meanwhile the U.S. State Department has most recently estimated that while the project could support more than 42,000 direct and indirect jobs during construction, it would create only 35 permanent positions after completion.

How does the public judge?

Environmental analyses project similarly varied numbers. KXL's potential environmental impacts fall into two main categories: oil spills and increases in carbon emissions. While environmental organizations are certain the pipeline would wreak havoc in both areas, the U.S. State Department's Environmental Impact Statement has concluded the pipeline met all environmental standards.

Again, how does the public judge? This brings us back to complexity, decision-making and, above all, trust in decision-makers.

Our objective here is not to debate the exact number of jobs Keystone XL will or will not create, or to quantify environmental damages. It is to highlight the way data can be tailored to the message a particular group wants to propagate.

All of the data used as inputs were run through regularly used economic estimation models. However, many of the “jobs” may in fact be temporary construction positions that would only last a matter of months. The economic models may not account for the changes in oil prices that would likely result from the increased volume of oil being transported into the U.S.

With varying data available from an ever-increasing number of sources, politicians and interest groups of all stripes have the ability to choose the data that best suits them. And the data being used does not necessarily take the entire picture into consideration. It can be selectively chosen to further a political agenda.

So, what does this mean for the public? If Canadians are constantly being presented with contradictory information, all based on supposedly reliably measured data, how are individuals supposed to form concrete and informed opinions?

Of course, we cannot expect politicians and interest groups to align themselves entirely with the evidence; there will always be some discord between political communications and the scientific process. But to effectively design policy for the future, we need two things.

First, the data we use must tell the truth. Being able to quantify economic effects is invaluable for informed policy decisions, but any projection made is only as good as the data used. In the case of KXL, entering temporary positions as “jobs” – no matter how short in duration – may not reflect how much economic value is actually being created for workers.

Second, we need to be constantly recalibrating existing economic and environmental estimation tools and developing new ones. Many of the economic impact models used for the estimates above do not account for factors such as oil price changes. No economic model is perfect, but we do need constant re-tooling and rethinking of the ways in which we assess impacts as our economy evolves.

Big data and the proliferation of information bring with them both pros and cons. There may be more information than ever before, but there is also more noise to sift through and as such, more opportunity for the data to cloud the truth where it should be unveiling it. Effective evidence-based policymaking in the coming decades will require that governments not just use the mass of data available in the ways they always have, but also to develop new models and engage and inform the public in the process.