I will try to take a personal approach to analyze each of the three major readings we did this week and connect it with the questions we have been asked to think about for the blog post.

Imagine that you are commuting to work in the morning on the subway and just searching for some articles to read around the topic of bias in algorithms. Maybe you even work in public policy or journalism or just somebody really into AI ethics and advocacy. You come across the ProPublica article on your phone. The article paints a clear message of real-world problems caused by racial bias in algorithms. The article can make you think of a friend who once faced some form of discrimination and feel a strong connection to the issue. Or maybe as a public policymaker, you think of your constituents and how best to serve the public cause. The article feels close to the heart. Somewhat like a call to action. Yet, you wonder if it’s a bit too straightforward and if there might be more to the story.

A few days later, while in a library, you stumble upon the ACM conference paper as you research maybe for a potential research paper. It feels like a heavy paper, filled with academic jargon. You recall that one philosophy class you took in college. The paper dives deep, reminding you of those intense classroom debates on ethics. It’s thorough and enlightening, but you can’t help feeling a bit lost in the complex terms. You wonder how many people outside of academia would connect with this.

Then, one rather boring evening as you are doomed to scrolling social media, you learn about AI Comics and since you are already bored with nothing else to do, you decide to see what is about. The visuals instantly grab your attention. You’re reminded of those educational comics you loved as a kid. This one explains algorithm ideas in a fun, engaging way. As you flip through the pages, the colorful illustrations simplify those tricky concepts, making them feel approachable. Yet, there’s a nagging feeling that some of the depth might be missing in favor of appealing visuals.

Each of these sources, with their respective unique style, feels like a different conversation you might have with friends: one urgent and rooted in reality, the second intellectually stimulating, and the third creatively engaging.

One challenge might be thinking about how each of these approaches can be brought together to build a more well-rounded conversation about the ethics of algorithms, or even making step-by-step instructions for somebody very interested in the topic. Maybe starting with a more easy-to-understand, engaging manner to introduce the topic, slowly getting into the rather academic and thought-provoking aspect and finally rounding it up with analysis, laying out plans for future development and providing insights for public policymakers and advocacy groups on how to ensure that the public interest is best served.

In our current digital age, Data Journalism’s role is one that is highly important. Through data gathering, analysis, and reporting, journalists can unveil truths, confront biases, and advocate for reform. This influence, however, demands an unwavering commitment to data integrity.

Consider Caroline Criado-Perez’s “Invisible Women.” She exposes a “male-fits-all” bias, spotlighting data omissions that bypass women. Whether in medical studies or city planning, data often mirrors male-centric standards. These tendencies emphasize the need for inclusive reporting and addressing imbalances.

Kevin Guyan’s “Queer Data” underlines the importance of capturing data on underrepresented groups, especially those with diverse sexual and gender identities. This isn’t just about representation; it’s about grasping our community’s multifaceted realities.

Nikki Stevens’ “Data Set Failures” offers insights into the challenges of collecting data from diverse open-source communities. She highlights the nuances in data-gathering techniques, reminding reporters of data’s multifaceted essence and the obligation to handle it judiciously.

The Data & Society podcast “Becoming Data” notes that data, while enlightening, can misguide if stripped of context. The power structures inherent in data suggest that tools may be impartial, but their usage isn’t. Reporters must ensure data amplifies truth, not just power dynamics.

So, what is data journalism’s duty? It’s a relentless quest for authenticity, translating complex data into lucid tales, and safeguarding against data misuse. In essence, it is at the nexus of digital innovation, truth, and public trust. It can spotlight marginalized narratives and champion the unheard, but with great power comes the duty to ensure data’s genuine portrayal of our shared human journey.

Recently, while reading various articles as part of understanding topics in my Demography course, I stumbled upon a compelling piece of data journalism by The New York Times titled “Mapping Migration in the United States”. It wasn’t just another article. Instead, it employed interactive maps to weave a tale of America’s internal migration, painting a picture of how and where its citizens have moved over the years as well as those in a state who are identified as being foreign born. Using a deep dive into census data, this piece narrated the American journey, county by county.

Unpacking the Article’s Worth

What struck me about this article was its straightforward yet profound approach to storytelling. At the heart of quality journalism is the ability to relay information in a manner that resonates, informs, and engages. This article does precisely that. America, in all its sprawling vastness, has a diverse populace whose migratory patterns have profound implications—from policy decisions to economic trajectories.

Reflecting upon historical accounts, like Henrietta Wood’s narrative in “Data: the New Cotton,” reveals the deep-seated importance of understanding such migratory shifts. Henrietta’s experiences, tied intricately to the migrations forced upon her, provide a lens into the societal, economic, and personal implications of movement.

Yet, an essential aspect of data journalism to consider is “Data Absenteeism.” In this context, certain groups, especially undocumented immigrants, might not be reflected in datasets due to their invisible status within official records.

Who Benefits from this Narrative?

The scope of readers who might find value in this is broad. Academic circles, especially historians, sociologists, and demographers, will find a treasure trove of insights into patterns of movement. Policymakers can get crucial information to guide their decisions. Meanwhile, everyday readers get a lens to trace how migration works in the country. or simply fathom the ebb and flow of the American population.

Beyond Mere Data: A Broader Implication

This isn’t just an article—it’s a call to introspection. It prompts readers to think, converse, and understand the nuances of societal shifts. Against the backdrop of modern-day challenges, such as the rise of surveillance capitalism, there’s a clear undercurrent. Yesterday’s migrations, influenced by societal constructs and economic demands, echo today’s digital migrations. Today, it’s not just about where we physically move, but where our data traverses in the vast digital expanse.

Economic structures of the past were often driven by tangible commodities like cotton. Today, intangible data steers the ship. But history has lessons to offer: unmonitored and unchecked movements, be they human or data, can lead down a path of misuse and exploitation.

The article has offered more than a data-driven exposé. It’s a reflection, a lesson, and a bridge to understanding our past, present, and potentially our future. When data journalism is executed with such finesse, it doesn’t merely inform—it motivates introspection and action.

In my eyes, the “public” can be defined by the usage of the idea of set theory, a foundational concept in mathematics. If we recollect everything of society as a regular set, individual communities or groups with shared hobbies, ideals, or traits can be viewed as subsets within this universal set. Much like elements in a set, every person belongs to a couple of subsets (or groups) and contributes to the identification of each. Intersections among these subsets constitute people or groups with overlapping traits or interests. Thus, defining the “public” in any given context corresponds to identifying a selected subset or aggregate of subsets inside the universal set. The “public” can be defined at various levels of this universal set whether at the level of smaller communities, nations, or one that attempts to encapsulate shared interests at the grand scale.

The tragedy of the commons often surfaces when members of the public are either detached or insufficiently engaged with communal issues. When we have subsets of our society, be they communities, entities, or even lone individuals, leveraging common resources without foreseeing the broader repercussions, what we witness is a “tragedy.” In mathematical terms, it’s reminiscent of isolated elements acting out of pure self-interest without accounting for their interconnectedness to other groups—resulting in the gradual exhaustion or decline of resources in our communal subset. (Note to self: explore the application of game theory in this concept).

On a brighter note, the commons have the potential to be our “solution.” Drawing on my understanding of Harney and Moten’s thoughts, we can develop the idea of a collective approach to disseminating resources and knowledge. In my eyes, this could be akin to building a fresh, intersectional subset, one that actively prioritizes the well-being of the overarching set. Such a synchronized endeavor could, I believe, transform the commons into a tool for innovation, mutual cooperation, and shared affluence.

Drawing upon Toomey and Sweeney’s insights, I’ve come to realize the double-edged nature of technology in this context. Technology has the power to either amplify the tragedy of the commons or usher in innovative solutions and platforms for debate. In today’s digital age, it’s fascinating to me how even virtual spaces have joined the ranks of the “commons.” How we navigate this novel realm will, I think, be instrumental in sculpting the trajectory of public interest.

Lastly, the commons often emerge as a battleground for political and social contest. We can observe that different factions (subsets) within the public (universal shared set), segregated perhaps by financial metrics, ideological beliefs, or other criteria, engage in a tug-of-war for dominance over our shared resources. This power play, from what I sense, often defines the rules governing our shared space, making it an indispensable facet of public participation.

To sum up, the “public” and the “commons” are complicated, overlapping, and dynamic, much like complex sets in mathematics. The commons may be a tragedy if improperly managed, a solution if well managed, and undoubtedly a place of social and political conflict.