Much Ado About Something

So much has been written about, agonized over and said about cloud-based solutions lately that I think it’s time to make a few observations about what it is…and what it isn’t. Let’s get the basic stuff out of the way. Cloud is nothing more than a way to share the breathtakingly enormous cost of a critical infrastructure asset across a broad number of users, so that the cost can be amortized to make it affordable to a larger audience. That asset might be computers, security, operating systems, storage, applications, or even telecom infrastructure, as we’re now seeing with the arrival of Network-as-a-Service. 

 Cloud offers a virtual resource, meaning that it gives the appearance of dedicated, private ownership when in fact, it’s not. Its greatest advantages are important. First, it eliminates the need for a customer to make vast capital investments in IT infrastructure, instead spending OPEX dollars that can be more flexibly allocated. Second, it means that IT services are now treated the same way as utilities—you pay for what you use, and only what you use, just like water, gas, and electricity. Finally, it becomes a managed service, delivered from a trusted third party’s data center, demonstrating that IT is all about business productivity, flexibility, scalability, and responsiveness to customer requirements—NOT technology.

 My fundamental question is this: If you’re not in the business of running a data center, why are you running a data center? Here are the reasons. First, security is daunting, and there is a chronic lack of in-house expertise. Furthermore, IT professionals are expensive and hard to find. Most data center applications require 24/7 uptime, yet 40% of all private IT shops still run windows server 2003—and it isn’t even made anymore! 

 The list goes on. Upgrades are expensive and have low return; it’s virtually impossible to predict storage growth; infrastructure must be sized for peak usage; scalability is slow; and, if you have to scale up for a temporary need, you can’t ‘unscale’—once the equipment is installed in your data center, it’s there to stay.

 It’s time to adopt a more mature view of managed services and start looking very seriously at third party managed resources. There is no downside—it’s all good.


A Perspective on Current Affairs

Dr. Steven Shepard

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. 

–Edmund Burke, 1770.

I am not a political scientist, nor am I a historian or sociologist. Here’s what I am: well-educated, with an undergrad degree from UC Berkeley in Spanish; a master’s from St. Mary’s in International Business; and a Doctorate from the Da Vinci Institute in South Africa, where I studied technology and its sociological impacts across the world. I’ve worked very hard to become this well-educated, and I continue to, so I won’t apologize for the fact. I am well read, averaging 120 books per year, including everything from fiction of all kinds, to poetry, history, geography, travel, narrative essay, biography, technology, children’s books, and biology. I’m well-traveled: I spent my teen years in Francisco Franco’s Spain, I’ve lived and worked in more than 100 countries, and one of my favorite genres to read is the travel essay, which gives me insights into places I haven’t had the opportunity to visit. Finally, I’m a professional writer, speaker, and educator, with 80 books and hundreds of articles and white papers on the market.

Edmund Burke wrote that opening line in 1770 as part of a longer letter to Thomas Mercer. I find it particularly appropriate today, as unprecedented—and unwarranted—attacks are flying in Washington, much of it driven by harsh language from the White House, all of it targeting four first-term congresswomen, all of them women of color who had the audacity to criticize the treatment of immigrants at our southern border, where there are children living in cages because they have been willfully separated from their parents. I have tried for the longest time to ignore what is happening in this country—MY country—but I can’t do it anymore. I have just returned from another trip outside of the United States where I was once again forced to confront a fundamental question, asked this time most poignantly by my taxi driver. 

“When I was a child in Nigeria, whenever I saw the American flag or heard your national anthem, it made me cry with such a sense of overwhelming joy, because it represented everything that is good and true and strong in this world. The United States represented hope, and faith in a better life, and gentle strength. It made me look at myself and say, ‘I, too, can have hope, because I see the example that America sets for the world.’ I no longer feel that way. I am afraid that America has become a country of bullies, and no one is willing to stand up to Mr. Trump. How can his behavior be allowed in a country that has forever meant so much to the world?”

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. 

Let me tell you where this is coming from—and please, read to the end. First, I’m ferociously curious. I liveto ask the question, ‘Why?’ I’m not satisfied simply knowing what something does, or even how. That serves me well in my role as a consulting analyst to executive teams, who want advice on their strategic decision-making processes. I’m not satisfied with something because somebody supposedly said it—I want to know why, and I want to know that it’s true. That’s hard work; it means I have to check my sources, and more often than not take the time to dig into the facts before I accept a conclusion. If more people were willing to do that simple thing, to exercise their right, obligation, and responsibility to be healthily skeptical, to respond to a stated fact with, “Are you sure about that? I’m going to check one more source to verify,” the fake news issue wouldn’t be an issue. Like it or not, believe it or not, the Earth is not flat, vaccines work and do not cause autism, we really have been to the moon, the universe is expanding, climate change is real and people do affect it, and evolution is a fact, not a theory. Science is science for a reason: because by its very definition, the things it proposes have been exhaustively verified through a rigorous, competitive process of validation. It’s not opinion: it’s fact. Furthermore, news is precisely that—news. It isn’t opinion. Two talking heads on CNN or Fox or CNBC yammering away at each other is a battle of opinions, not any form of news. Yet in the minds of many, the two are conflated, and far too many people are willing to just accept what they hear or read without question. THAT is an abdication of responsibility as a citizen in a free country.

When we moved to Spain in 1968, we were indoctrinated in the rules of the expatriate road. Do NOT make public comments about the government. Do NOT criticize any public figure. Be wary of the police; they are not your friends. There were two television channels, one sporadically broadcasting Spanish soap operas and cartoons for the kids, the other what we called the “All Franco, All the Time” channel—hours and hours of the Generalísimo standing on a stage, waving his arms.

Let me be clear: I loved growing up in Europe; Spain will forever be in my blood. The experience played a large part in making me who I am today, a person entranced by languages, diverse cultures, strange foods, and the allure of travel. But it also put me in a place where I had the intellectual wherewithal to critically compare the USA to other countries, especially when I started traveling extensively for a living.

America’s involvement in Vietnam was just starting to wind down when I started college. Like so many young people, I was critical of our involvement, because there was no logical reason whatsoever that I could discern for our presence there, certainly no tangible return that was worth the loss of life that that ugly war created. But I remained an ardent supporter of the United States, the Shining City on a Hill, in spite of my disagreement about Southeast Asia.

Years later, I became what I am today—writer, teacher, audio producer, photographer, speaker, observer of the world. I’ve worked all over the planet and have had the pleasure and honor to experience more countries, cultures, linguistic rabbit holes, ways of life, and food than most people will ever see. For that I am truly, deeply grateful.

But it hasn’t always been good. I’ve spent my share of time in totalitarian countries, seeing how people who have no other choice must live, and feeling slightly embarrassed by the fact that I have the choice—the choice—not to live that way. In China, in Tiananmen Square, I was stopped by police and questioned aggressively for quite some time by the police, because I was carrying a professional-looking camera. In that same country, I was told that I had to register my laptop and mobile phone because, as a non-Chinese, I could be bringing in or distributing subversive materials that could be detrimental to the state. In Venezuela, my client would not allow me to go anywhere by myself, assigning me a round-the-clock bodyguard to keep me out of trouble. In Yugoslavia, while driving in a car on the highway, I was frantically hushed by the other people in the car because they were afraid that my question about life under the current regime might be overheard by people outsidethe car. I listened and tried to understand the logic of a Russian man, who, when I took him (at his request) to a grocery store in California to see what it was like, stopped halfway down the coffee aisle, turned to me, and asked, “So many coffees! Why don’t theyjust pick the best one and give us that one?” It took me a few minutes to understand, and my hair stood on end. Why would I want they,whoever theyis, picking my coffee? And in Africa (and frankly, parts of the American south), I watched as institutionalized racism turned my stomach. In Australia, I got into a cab, and soon after outof a cab, when the driver began spewing racial epithets and talking about the new Abo bars he had installed on his car. In Australia, many cars have pipe bumpers on the front that they call “Roo Bars,” referring to the fact that they are designed to keep kangaroos, when struck by the car, from damaging it. Abo bars refer to Aboriginal people—you understand why I got out of the cab. The man was a pig.

Here's my point. There’s a lot to criticize about the United States. Racism, sexism, gender bias and ageism are alive and well in America—the country was founded, after all, by a group of white slave owners.. There is a growing income gap, driven by the overzealous forces of capitalism, that is tearing at the very fabric of the national society. Educationally, we are in a tailspin, and the perceived value of education for the sake of education and its profound impact on the future of the country is at an all-time low. 

Politically, we’ve never been more polarized. Some months ago, I had a conversation with a very well-educated man—I emphasize that, well-educated—in the deep south, who took exception to something I said about the polarized nature of American politics. So, I invited him to have a conversation. 

“What do you believe?” I asked him.

“I’m a Republican,” he replied. 

“That’s not a belief—that’s a club you belong to,” I pushed back. He couldn’t get past that. So, I tried to make it easier. 

“Look—I’m going to give you a series of questions; answer any one of them. Here we go: Tell me one thing that we could do in this country to fix the education system, or healthcare, or the economy, or infrastructure, or political gridlock, or the widening economic divide.”

He was unable to answer. But he reiterated his position as a Republican three times. 

This is part of the problem. In the 60s and 70s, the chant that was often heard or seen on bumper stickers was, “My country, right or wrong.” Today, it seems to be, “My party, or my candidate, right or wrong.” And this is where I have a fundamental problem. 

In the United States, we have a tricameral government to ensure checks and balances, to prevent one of the three from becoming more powerful than the other two. And, we have a two-party system, because they are ideologically different. One conservatively stresses small government, big business, and a culture of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. I applaud that, when it’s possible. 

The other party advocates for larger, more involved government, expanded social programs, and a more liberal approach to success. We need both, because somewhere in the middle lies the fundamental essence of democratic freedom. Today, however, there is a massive, unfathomably wide gap between the two ideologies, driven by political zealotry, greed, and government representatives who have forgotten that public service was never intended to be a career, an opportunity to feather one’s own nest. Government is not a business—and yet, based on the money that changes hands, and the extraordinary influence it wields over decisions that affect the governed, it is.  

And yet: I support American Democracy, the so-called American Experiment, because I’ve seen the other side. I know what happens when totalitarianism is allowed to flourish, eroding individual freedoms, crushing the hope of women and minorities, destroying entire swaths of regional and national economies, stifling individual and organizational innovation, forcing businesses to flee to more open countries, slapping down the will of the people, and shuttering the media.

And this is why I wrote an essay on Facebook, in response to the so-called Helsinki Summit a year or so ago, in which I said this:

I never express political arguments on a public forum, but for this, I make an exception. As someone who grew up in a country run by a dictator, and has traveled and worked in more than 100 countries, many of them run by despots and autocrats whose police harassed me because I carried a camera, required me to register my phone and laptop because I might engage in subversive activities, and suppressed the rights of their people to have a basic, fulfilling life and denied them a voice over their own destiny, I say ENOUGH. I can tolerate a lot, but this decision on Donald Trump’s part to ignore and openly criticize what we stand for as a free people and as a democratic nation goes far beyond ‘a misstep.’ This is not politically motivated on my part: it is motivated by indignation, anger, disappointment and shame. I am tired of having to spend the first half-hour of every class I teach outside of this country, trying to explain the actions of this pompous fool who pretends to represent our country. ENOUGH. ENOUGH. ENOUGH.

That paragraph above, that talks about what happens when totalitarianism and one-person rule are allowed to become the law of the land, describes Russia, North Korea, China, Turkey, Venezuela, Myanmar, the Philippines, and others. 

Now, cast an eye on the United States. Singlehanded, unilateral decisions, in the interests of big business, are swiping away vast swaths of public wildlands and National Park and Monument holdings. The current president and his appointees are giving a voice to extreme right-wing ultra-nationalists and white supremacists, destroying years of civil rights work. Women are once again fearful that their individual reproductive rights will be taken away, thanks to conservative appointments. News flash: a woman’s body is her and hers alone to govern, and governments cannot and should not legislate morality. That model is already taken: It’s called Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan. 

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. 

And what of the incipient trade wars looming on the horizon? Yes, there may be reasons to engage in tough conversations with our economic allies about trade imbalances, but waging a tariff-based trade war is not the answer. Here’s what we know from economic history that goes back to 15th-century China, when they were the dominant economic force on the planet. Global competition keeps the price of many goods down, which is good for everybody—and which is severely impacted in a tariff war. Free trade allows access to a wide range of services and goods, which tariffs diminish. Many of the gains of protectionism are short-lived and counter-productive; in fact, periods of protectionism have a historical habit of ending in economic downturn, most notably the Great Depression of the 1930s.

Closer to home, and more relevant in today’s world, when trade barriers go up, jobs that rely on the Internet disappear, as the barriers to the free movement of capital and labor get higher. Companies that are protected from outside competition may flourish in the short term but are invariably less efficient in the longer term. Finally, foreign importers may cut costs to offset the impact of tariffs, which further exacerbates the problem. 

A couple of months ago, I was in Northern California and southeastern Oregon, and I got into a conversation with a farmer who runs an enormous operation—thousands and thousands of acres. I asked him how things were going, given the talk of tariffs and such. He told me that tariffs were the least of his concerns, although they wereconcerns. His biggest issue was that his entire workforce had disappeared, because of fears of immigration coming down on them. And, all thoughts to the contrary, he couldn’t find local people willing to do the work that his previously Hispanic workforce was willing to do. He told me that he was down 80% of his staff, and that that was common across all the farms in the area. His solution? “Easy,” he told me. “Since Trump’s immigration policies have made my workforce disappear, I can’t operate my farm. So, I’m moving my farm to Mexico. The country is giving me tax breaks, so it’s a great deal.” 

Great deal indeed. If the workers can’t come to the farm, the farm goes to the workers. And, of course, any products shipped out of Mexico to the United States will be classified as agricultural imports and will therefore be taxed at a higher rate—which means higher prices at the grocery store. Very smart.

Finally, I have to speak out on behalf of the Press. I believe fervently that the single most important Freedom listed in the Bill of Rights is the first one: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.One thing that makes our system of government as good as it is, is that the press has the right, the obligation, and the responsibilityto question government at every turn. That’s its job. When I hear our current president taking potshots at the Fifth Estate, it chills my blood. If you don’t want the press questioning your actions, then don’t engage in controversial actions that attract their attention—or if you do, have a cogent reason why to share with them. And by the way, be happy that you live in a country where the press has the right to do precisely that—and doesn’t serve as a marketing arm of the government. Again: that’s called Iran, or Russia, or North Korea. The free Press serves as our collective societal conscience, and today we need it more than ever.

So yes—our government is not perfect, by any measure. It has warts, ugly parts, and is prone to make mistakes. But it also has an obligation and responsibility to ultimately do the right thing for the people of this country. Yet here we stand, watching the chief executive of our country hurl racial epithets at elected officials because he doesn’t like the fact that they are doing their jobs. Are they young, perhaps naïve, and inexperienced? Yes, some of them are. They are also correct. Giving voice to white supremacy, putting children in cages, sanctioning the kind of jingoistic, racist chants that have no place in this country—I say, ENOUGH.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed

From the consent of the governed—not the other way around. 

This is not about blame: it’s about responsibility. It is not a partisan issue; it is a People of the United States issue, and ‘people’ includes those that we, the governed, place in office to serve us—not the other way around. As I told one person, this challenge is not political—it’s genital. It’s time for the people of this country, starting with the so-called Republican Party that refuses to sanction the man they put into office, to grow a set, put on our big boy pants, and do the hard work of being responsible by reminding Washington, through our voices and actions at the polls, that this country is better than its government, and that the government serves the will of the people. I’ve spent too much of my life seeing firsthand what the alternative looks like in less-privileged countries: we mustnot and willnot allow despotism or nationalism to define who we are. We’re better than that.

Here’s the full text of Edmund Burke’s letter. Pay particular attention to the final paragraph.

Whilst men are linked together, they easily and speedily communicate the alarm of any evil design. They are enabled to fathom it with common counsel, and to oppose it with united strength. Whereas, when they lie dispersed, without concert, order, or discipline, communication is uncertain, counsel difficult, and resistance impracticable. Where men are not acquainted with each other’s principles, nor experienced in each other’s talents, nor at all practised in their mutual habitudes and dispositions by joint efforts in business; no personal confidence, no friendship, no common interest, subsisting among them; it is evidently impossible that they can act a public part with uniformity, perseverance, or efficacy. In a connection, the most inconsiderable man, by adding to the weight of the whole, has his value, and his use; out of it, the greatest talents are wholly unserviceable to the public. 

No man, who is not inflamed by vain-glory into enthusiasm, can flatter himself that his single, unsupported, desultory, unsystematic endeavours, are of power to defeat the subtle designs and united cabals of ambitious citizens. When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.

I close with this. I recently read Brené Brown’s book, Braving the Wilderness. In it, she suggests four actions that would go a long way toward helping us get through this dysfunctional, angry, blame-ridden period. She says,

1.    People are hard to hate close up. Move in.

2.    Speak truth to bullshit. Be civil.

3.    Hold hands. With strangers.

4.    Strong back. Soft front. Wild heart. 

Those four statements are profound, and they define, as clearly as anything I’ve ever read, the soul of America. It’s time to get back to that, to the Shining City on the Hill, the model of strength, kindness, reason, and diplomacy that much of the world holds up as the model of global decorum. Speak up, think, be curious, and act, people. It’s your right, and it’s your responsibility. We owe this to our children, and we owe this to the world.

Looking Back

Dr. Steven Shepard

When I first became an instructor for the AMP leadership curriculum at USC back in 1993, my job was to deliver a single half-day program on wireless technologies. Let me be clear: This was a technical presentation, and included such things as how Code-Division Multiple Access worked, how Direct Sequence Spread Spectrum differed from Frequency-Hopping Spread Spectrum, what frequencies CDMA operated in vs. those that GSM occupied, and what the technical differences were among GEO, MEO, and LEO satellite arrays. And the best part? The audience, made up largely of telecom executives, actually cared.

Over the years, my presentation focus shifted. I delivered a half-day program about multimedia, before anyone really knew what that was; I gave programs on the industry phenomenon known as convergence, in the great days leading up to the collapse of the mighty (yet ephemeral) telecom bubble; and I taught a program about the Internet—an introduction to that mysterious world that no one had yet come to understand. At the time there were precisely four commercial Web sites in existence on the planet; I remember how the executives would gather around me and my little Mac PowerBook and watch in awe as I dialed into the Internet using my blazingly-fast 56 Kbps modem and filled my screen with a Web site. Magic.

It’s easy to laugh at ourselves when we think about those simpler times, but in reality, how are they any different than the times we find ourselves in today? We are no more insightful about the future impact of quantum computing, natural language processing, robotics, artificial intelligence, various alternative realities, analytics, and Internet of Things than we were in the 90s about the World Wide Web. So, my challenge to everyone in or around the technology domain is to take a step back, think about those heady days of yore, and now think forward. It’s a leadership thing: We know where we are; where could we be? What is the new status quo? As Alan Kay of Apple once observed, ‘The best way to predict the future is to invent it.’ I think we owe it to future generations to start inventing. Now.

The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu

Dr. Steven Shepard

Over the course of the last three months I’ve taught a writing workshop at our local library in Williston, here in Vermont. The schedule was a bit haphazard because of my travel, but we made it work. My audience was people interested in becoming better writers. Interestingly, a significant proportion of them weren’t interested in getting published; they just wanted to be better at the craft of writing. Refreshing!

 I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t spent much time in our library since our kids were growing up. Being the lover of books that I am, my library became Amazon, as I assembled my own cherished library at home. It’s funny: I recently did a quick survey of our house and was pleased to discover that there are books in every single room of the house—except for the bathrooms! Go figure.

 Anyway, the library we had back when the kids were in school and the library we have today are worlds apart. It has expanded, both physically and in terms of what it offers. The Dorothy Alling Memorial Library, situated on the Williston town green in front of the Williston Central School and adjacent to the town gazebo where the town band (the Williston Wheezers) plays on the 4thof July, still has books, but now offers a computer room with available instruction for those looking to develop their digital skills; a massive media collection; Internet access; loads of learning programs; and after-school activities for kids, which are well-attended.

 But they’re not unique in this, as it turns out. According to information published in The Atlantic, 84% of libraries in the country offer some form of software training, while 90% teach basic Internet skills. In fact, in 2016, 113 million people enrolled in programs offered by their local libraries, including digital literacy. In other words, libraries have gone from being passive repositories of dusty books to active educational institutions. And the value of the investment is returned handsomely: In Ohio, in 2014, for every dollar spent on public libraries, the state received $5.48 in added economic value. Not a bad return on investment.

 These libraries have morphed into learning centers, digital community centers, and career hubs. Some libraries are partnering with local businesses to develop learning programs that will generate a steady flow of high-quality, skilled employees, ready to undertake work in the 21stcentury. 

 When was the last time you visited your local library? Check it out—it might surprise you. And if you have kids, make it a regular thing to visit with them. What this demonstrates, once again, is that knowledge really matters. It leads to the development of skills that create differentiation, opportunity, and hope. And where better to have that happen than the local public library?

 And that’s why I want to tell you about a book I just finished reading. The name alone should hook you: The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu, by Joshua Hammer. It’s equal parts thriller, geography, history, and geopolitical intrigue. And, it’s all true. Here’s the story, without giving away the fun parts. Timbuktu (which means ‘Boctou’s well’ in the local dialect) has for centuries been a center of Islamic scholarship, an oasis of culture, knowledge and understanding in the center of Saharan Mali. 

 Abdel Kader Haidara, a minor government functionary in the 1980s, came to a realization one day: scattered across the Saharan sands  of Mali there are tens of thousands of ancient manuscripts, some dating from the 5thcentury, all hand-illuminated, and all crumbling to paper dust because of heat, dry air, and termites. Stored in rotting chests or buried in the swirling sands of the Sahara, these books include early religious texts, medical treatises, political texts, manuals of early law, political treatises, personal journals of early explorers, accounts of travelers, and much, much more.

 Knowing the incalculable value of the knowledge captured in these books, Haidara set out on a quest that would make Don Quixote AND James Bond proud: to collect as many of them as possible, bring them to a world-class, centralized repository  for restoration and digitization, thus preserving the wisdom of the ages. But there were some challenges: the restoration facility didn’t exist; and the books were mostly in the hands of families who didn’t trust the government (for good reason) and weren’t about to turn them over to a junior representative of that very same government.

 And then, there was the Al Qaeda problem.

 Sworn to destroy all vestiges of existing society and its historical foundations, Haidara knew that Al Qaeda would burn the books if they were found. So, he took on the incredibly hazardous task of preventing that from happening by mounting an enormous smuggling operation to move the books, in secret, away from Al Qaeda.

 You need to read this book—it’s a FANTASTIC story.

 And hey, if you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out the Natural Curiosity Project Podcast, where you’ll find other stories designed to intrigue and educate. You can find a link to it here.

 Thanks for dropping by.

Where Do Stories Come From?

Dr. Steven Shepard

I’m often asked where my stories come from. I do have a lot of them, and I add new ones all the time. The truth is that I’ve never really stopped to think about the answer to that question. I’m curious by nature, so if I get the impression that someone might be interesting to have a conversation with, I engage. If I see something happening that impresses me, or someone doing something that intrigues me, I go over to learn more. 

 When I teach writing or photography workshops, there’s one mantra that the participants hear me chant over and over again: There’s a difference between looking and seeing, andbetween hearing and listening.Everyone hears, but relatively few of us actually listen. And everyone looks, but relatively few of us actually see. 

 Over the years I’ve forced myself to listen, and I’ve forced myself to see. It hasn’t been easy; I still find myself tuning out sometimes, thinking about what great things I’m going to do with this amazing interview when I get back to the office, but realizing at the same time that I have missed what the person said for the last 90 seconds. 

 Stories are a gift. When someone agrees to tell you theirs, take it for what it is: A gift of the highest order. When a person agrees to tell you their story, they are sharing something important, so be honored, and listen. Everyone has a story to tell, and every story is a good one. The trick is getting them to tell it. 

 But my stories don’t just come from conversations with others. Some of them are pushed to me via email. Here are my favorites. I’m not going to describe them, because they’re well-described at their respective Web sites, and besides, the short trip over to visit them will do you good (remember—that’s what curiosity is about).

And then there are the Podcasts I listen to. Here are the ones that I go back to, week after week, because they yield stories worth remembering and sharing.

99% Invisible

Aaron Menke’s Cabinet of Curiosities

BBC Earth

Costing the Earth


Curiosity Daily

Damn Interesting

How Sound

Levar Burton Reads


Nature Guys


Radio Atlantic



Science Rules (Bill Nye)

Anthropocene Reviewed

The Kicker (Columbia Journalism Review)

If you’re looking for a specific topic and you don’t find it here, let me know—chances are I know where to find it. And remember—the Natural Curiosity Project, my own regular program, has some great content as well!

Until next time—thanks for dropping by. And hey, if you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out the Natural Curiosity Project Podcast, where you’ll find other stories designed to intrigue and educate. You can find a link to it here.

Why I Started the Natural Curiosity Project

Dr. Steven Shepard

Now that I’ve launched a new Web site, thanks to the creative capabilities of my son, I’ve decided to take his suggestions to heart, one of which is to write a regular Blog. So, this is the first post of what will become a weekly (or so) message, updating you on things that I think are important and worth writing about.

For this first post, I want to take you back in time—to 1999, the year before I started this business, the Shepard Communications Group. I was in Washington, DC, giving a talk via a Comsat satellite facility to a group of people that were scattered all over the world, the vast majority of them in Africa. The Internet was still a nascent phenomenon back then; indeed, Google was less than a year old at the time, and a really good connection to the Web was 56 kbps, via an analog modem. AOL was a happening place.

Anyway, the talk was a wonderful experience—people asked questions in English, French, Portuguese, Swahili, Spanish, and a few languages that I needed help with—it was AMAZING. I loved every minute of it. In fact, it ran way over time; we stopped when the satellite provider called and said they needed their transponder back.

One of the participants on the talk was a guy from Kenya, named Edwin, who contacted me after the broadcast to help him build a plan to use email to grow his business in east Africa. We swapped a few messages, I gave him some suggestions, and as is typical, our exchanges went from frequent, to infrequent, to nonexistent, once he got his business up and running. I thought nothing of it until I received this letter in the mail—let me be clear, a paper letter (still framed on my wall):

Dear Professor Shepard: I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me start my Internet business in Kenya. It was not easy: I had to take out a large business loan for $100, but I believe that I will be able to pay it back within 18 months. Already I have made sales of my magazine in the US and Europe and because of your help my family is eating well and my children are smiling. God bless you and the Internet. 

Asante Sana, rafiki wako Edwin.

God bless me and the Internet. Talk about feeling humble—wow.

I share that story because it was one of the reasons I started this company—one of the catalytic forces that made me want to write more books, take more photographs, publish more articles, produce more videos, give more talks, and focus so much of my professional and personal effort on the developing world. That letter humbled me, made me reflect, and gave me focus. I realized that all this technology that I had worked so hard to know so much about, to understand the inner workings of, was pretty useless without a sound application in front of it. Until Edwin wrote me that letter, I hadn’t given the Internet all that much thought, other than to see it as a technological curiosity

And there’s that word—curiosity. 

I’ve always been curious, but I never thought much about it until I started doing this job and realized how many people I come in contact with aren’t—curious, that is. And that, to me, is a problem. Why? Because of the belief behind the Podcast: that curiosity leads to discovery, discovery leads to knowledge, knowledge leads to insight, and insight leads to understanding, something that seems to be missing in an awful lot of public discourse today. Let me give you an example.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in a taxi in LA, driving from the airport to my hotel downtown. As I always do, I channeled one of my (weirder than most) heroes, journalist Charles Kuralt (weird because after his death it was discovered that he had two separate, simultaneous families, neither of which knew of the other). That’s not the part I channeled. He once was asked what his job consisted of, given that it involved driving around the country with a film crew in a luxury RV, interviewing people. His answer was great, and I’ve never forgotten it: “My job is to find extraordinary things in ordinary people.” And by ‘ordinary’ he didn’t mean sub-standard—he meant everyday people, living their lives. He rarely interviewed heads of state, or CEOs, or wealthy octogenarians (unless no one knew they were wealthy octogenarians), or sports superstars. He interviewed farmers, mechanics, birdwatchers, firefighters, teachers, and volunteer doctors and nurses. He interviewed crop duster pilots who also delivered medicine. He interviewed game wardens and park rangers. And every one of them—EVERY one—had a compelling, mesmerizing, hang-on-every-word story to tell. And Charles found them.

So: my taxi driver. From his accent and the name on the driver’s placard I knew he was Armenian. So, I asked him how long he had been in Los Angeles. Many years, it turned out. He asked me what I do; I told him I’m a writer. I’m a writer, he responded. Really, I asked? (everybody’s a would-be writer). What do you like to write? Essays, he told me. He then asked me who my favorite writers were. And then, before I could answer, he told me his.

“Actually, Dostoevsky is quite good for global and historical perspective. Tolstoy is tedious. Mark Twain, the American essayist, is a genius—he should be read by everyone in the world. Kipling has a wonderful read on human behavior. And as for poets, which many people don’t read, but should, I very much like Pablo Neruda. He has a lover’s soul, yet he’s a pragmatist.”

Had I not been in the habit of letting my curiosity drive my actions, I never would have had this conversation with my driver, with whom I exchanged books we had each written. 

Here’s the thing. Curiosity is free—it costs nothing, yet its yield is inevitably priceless. It broadens our view of the world, makes us more aware and sensitive, causes us to be more informed, and inevitably makes us better people. And, it requires minuscule effort. It looks like this:

·      “You know what? I’d like to know a little more about that.”

·      “Are you sure about that? I think I’ll check one more source.”

·      “That person over there looks kind of interesting. I think I’ll go over and say hi.”

·      “OK—I have to ask. What’s the story of that hat?”

·      “Forgive me for asking. What language are you speaking? I love how it sounds.”

I’ve come to the conclusion that curiosity has become optional for many. And I don’t think it’s because they set out one day to no longer be curious; I think it’s a side-effect—and a hazardous one—of the deluge of data that we are inundated with every second of every day. The dangerous thing about this is two-fold. First, we grow comfortably complacent with being awash in data, falsely assuming it to be knowledge, or insight, or wisdom, or even information. 

Second, we allow ourselves to trust it without question. Volume or quantity do not equate to correctness, any more than having tens of thousands of people walk through your store, day after day, without buying anything, equates to retail success. It’s an exercise in empty calories. Because we have so much at our fingertips, we become intellectually lazy. We allow ourselves to believe that we don’t have to work hard to be well-informed or well-educated. And this, my friends, is a dangerous, slippery slope, and it’s largely to blame for the mess we’re in today. If only people would ask that simple question, ‘are you sure?’, or would take the time to check one more source before blindly accepting a statement as fact, we’d all be much better off. But it takes effort, and a willingness to be proven wrong every now and again.

So, curiosity can be lost, or perhaps better said, anaesthetized. But it can be revived. And that’s precisely why I started my Podcast, the Natural Curiosity Project. I am blessed with natural curiosity. Perhaps it’s part of being a writer, or due to the fact that I’m a voracious reader, or maybe it’s because I go out of my way to meet people—to follow Charles Kuralt’s mantra. Whatever it is, I ask a lot of questions, which yield a lot of very interesting answers, insights I didn’t have before I asked the questions. I think those insights are important—important enough, in fact, to share them with you.

So, each episode is different, but they all have one characteristic in common. I promise that I will try with every episode to tell you something you didn’t know before. Why? Because of the mantra upon which the Podcast was created: curiosity leads to discovery, discovery leads to knowledge, knowledge leads to insight, and insight leads to understanding. Understanding leads to better relationships, more effective businesses, more innovative products and services, more insightful competitive behavior, and better-behaved, more understanding humans. And we can use more of those these days.

If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out the Natural Curiosity Project Podcast, where you’ll find other stories designed to intrigue and educate. You can find a link to it here.