Didn't your mother ever tell you to share your toys?


Many years ago, I was involved in student politics. It was a great way to understand the fundamental disconnect between the ways different people see the world.

I remember having a blazing row high-spirited discussion with someone about the way I thought about society. In a fit of rage an attempt to provide clarity, I tried using a metaphor:

"Didn't your mother ever tell you to share your toys?" I asked.

He looked at me, baffled.

"No..." he said, cautiously. "We each had enough toys."

That is the strawman crux of the issue. Those of us who grew up with limited resources know that sharing is caring. We've been taught from an early age that the only way to fulfilment is to share our possessions.

We were raised on a diet of Stone Soup. But other people were not so lucky.

To them, lending a toy just means losing a toy. There is nothing the borrower could reciprocally lend you that you don't already have. There is literally no advantage to sharing. If you really want something, just buy it.

At school, you probably went through the fad of collecting stickers, Pogs, cards, or some other merchandise. The playground was full of swappers. Everyone engaging in the social activity of trade. That's another fertile training ground for understanding the limits of friendship the pleasure of working together for a common goal.

Except for that one kid whose dad just bought them a full set.

How do we embed the positive value of sharing at all levels of society?

There's sometimes a pernicious fear that lending a toy might result in someone else profiting from it.

That's the question at the heart of the Open Data debate. What if someone finds a way to monetise our data - and doesn't share the revenue?

I think - and it's only a think - that's the wrong way to approach things. Most data sits locked away in a vault. It isn't used to generate insights and it certainly isn't making money. It's the same with our toys. Most are at the bottom of the toybox, generating pleasure for no one.

When we open up data - or share our toys - we create opportunities for someone else to derive use from something we have no use for. We give up exclusivity and, in return, discover new ways that we can all have more fun.


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One thought on “Didn't your mother ever tell you to share your toys?”

  1. says:

    "No..." he said, cautiously. "We each had enough toys."

    I.. uh.. wh... h....

    Huh.

    I don't think I could come up with a reply that they'd understand.

    There is almost a trickle of theft accusation in that reply. A sort of hint that their mind is entrenched in a different direction and that trying to move them would not be taken as good-hearted, but instead as a threat/scam.

    This reminds of a little tale from my family. My mother's aunt migrated from Greece to Australia, worked, saved and then helped several other family members across.

    Many decades later my parents organised a dinner and invited my mother's aunt over. They wanted it to be special so they freshly made pasta from scratch. If you've never had this before: the texture and flavour is a bit different to dry store bought stuff, I quite enjoy it.

    During the meal my parents hinted that they made the pasta themselves.

    My mother's aunt was shocked.

    "You can't even afford pasta? You should have told me you were doing it rough!".

    Reply

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