In my fist was a single piece of candy wrapped in bright yellow cellophane, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of guilt and sadness. I had just seen a little boy grab four: one for him, one each for mum and dad, and one for grandma, presumably back at home. There was a sign on the wall saying “Please Take One”, but it still didn’t feel right.
“We shouldn’t do this. Don’t you see? We’re killing him.”
“Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)”, Félix González-Torres, 1991. Multicolored candies, individually wrapped in cellophane; ideal weight 175 lb.; installed dimensions variable, approximately 92 x 92 x 92 cm (36 x 36 x 36 in.)
The under-representation of women and minorities within certain areas of academia, business and education, particularly in high-paying jobs and managerial roles is well documented. Anti-discrimination laws can only do so much when unconscious bias is rife. This is where affirmative action comes in, controversial as it is, in the form of any of the following:
- scholarships for minorities
- prioritising minorities given equal qualifications
- diversity quotas.
The general idea is to account for the “selection function” that is privilege. In science, data is collected from objects which satisfy certain criteria. Often, the data we really want is convolved with the selection function. An example from astronomy is when you include only galaxy clusters brighter than a certain threshold in your sample; you are more likely to include objects: of higher mass; at low-medium redshift; that have cool-cores. If one wants to know the properties of an otherwise “fair” sample, you must perform some kind of deconvolution or correction (easier said than done). That’s what affirmative action attempts to do (also easier said than done). For the rest of this blog-post, I look at recent attempts to improve the representation of women, in particular, as well as responses to these .
The protestor clashes with policemen. One sprays tear gas not 5 centimetres from his ear, while the other holds him in a tight grip. You have barely begun to acclimatize to the mood of the room — the undercurrent of rage and fear — when suddenly, you are confronted by bodies. Dead. Mostly children. On the street; in coffins; in ambulances; in pools of oil; and, in the World Press Photo of the Year by Swedish Paul Hansen, carried through the streets of Gaza in the arms of grieving uncles.