Weibel Lines

Principles of Linked Data Recast

In my previous post on linked data, I made the argument that TimBL's four principles for linked data really boil down to two:

1. Identify stuff with HTTP URIs
2. Aggregate identified-stuff in standard [web-based] ways 

There is an additional implicit requirement if linked data is to move the Web to the next level of usefulness: openness.  The tantalizing payoff for linked data approaches is its use in open systems.  Indeed, the term linked open data is often used to describe the idiom.  So, I revise my version of the linked data principles yet again:

1. Identify stuff with HTTP URIs
2. Aggregate identified-stuff in standard [web-based] ways
3. Make the data open and available without impediments

Web 2.0 gave us a taste for the possibilities with mashups and the proliferation of social applications. The openness that allowed mashups to capture the imagination of developers and users was largely accidental... a side effect of sites leaving the doors ajar, rather than planning for open doors.  Ironically, the wild success of many social applications has substantially reduced the opportunities for mashups.  The sluice gates are closing to prevent all that money from flowing downhill.

And the moniker mashup... well, it even sounds painful.  Like slamming the car door on your fingers.  Someone has to know the structures of the mashed-up-data, and... well... mash them together into a new structure.  Bespoke interoperability.  One-offs. Short-lived. Expensive.

Linked data involves designing the data beforehand for hands-free interoperability. Organic mash-up-able-ness comes from scrupulously observing principle number 2.  This all sounds better and better.  Do your interoperability design when you start, adopt web standards, and throw that data out there for the world to use, and the Web becomes one big mashup?

Not so fast. I'm afraid we need another principle.  Data curation.  Data worth linking to is cared for, managed, corrected, updated.  In the words of the old song (and yes, I expose my age) "Does your chewing gum lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?"  Bit-rot prevails, as sure as death and taxes.

To recapitulate, my own list of linked data principles went from four, to three, to two, and back up to four, though slightly different than TimBL's:

1. Identify stuff with HTTP URIs
2. Aggregate identified-stuff in standard [web-based] ways
3. Make the data explicitly open
4. Eschew uncurated data

If you've rummaged around in the linked data world you've come across the Linked Open Data Cloud.  A summary of currently available linked data sources has just been updated this week: State of the LOD Cloud.

There is interesting information on the state of linked data in this document, including indications that there is a growing proportion of data sets that are curated.  Perhaps the best indicator of this is whether the data are published by the data producers themselves, or by third parties who found a juicy data set that they thought could be of research interest, and massaged it into usefulness.  Research is good. Proof of concept is good.  Neither are likely to be persistent or reliable.  According to this report, only about a third of the LOD sets are currently producer-published. 

There is a good deal of other data in this report worth unpacking, including metrics of conformance to a set of best practices that are emerging in the community.  Perhaps the most important one of these is the availability of explicit licensing information.  Without this, systems builders are writing code to shifting sands.  Open today, closed tomorrow.  Why would anyone take such a risk?  The report indicates that fewer than 10% of the data-sets in the LOD cloud contain such licensing information.  A bad sign.  Lets hope it improves.  It will be useful to see how these metrics change over time, but they are but indirect measures of the changing health of the LOD cloud.  The proof, of course, is in the applications.

The library community is actively exploring the benefits of linked data applications as the means of providing more and better services on the Web.  There is a W3C incubator group for Library Linked Data that is preparing a report on use-cases and potentially useful directions.  This report will provide a milestone for the community and will, one hopes, lead to concrete steps toward a stronger presence for libraries in the linked data realm, and hence, on the Web in general.  The challenges are not limited to the principles, best practices, and technical issues of linked data, however.  If libraries are to succeed in this space, there are systemic community issues that must be reconciled as well.  I will share my perspectives on these issues in a succeeding post.

Finally, my apologies if I have monkeyed around too much with established principles that people agree on.  I do so in the interest of creating a teaching moment, and perhaps to challenge current thinking about the topic in a small way.  I don't think I have a prayer of knighthood.

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It is my great good fortune to be in Japan on the cusp of cherry blossom season.  This picture was taken in Gion district of Kyoto -- a week or two early, but with tantalizing with promise.

 

Radiation Exposure in Tskuba, Japan following the Tohoku Quake

I tweeted a back-of-the-envelope calculation concerning radiation exposure here in Tsukuba, Japan, and in a few minutes had a slew of demands for documentation.  I asserted that, at current exposure rates you'd have to stand outside 24 hours a day for two years to get as much exposure as the flight from Seattle to Tokyo. So, here is my evidence.

Tsukuba has a High Energy Physics Institute (KEK) which includes a Radiation Science Center.  SInce the Fukushima accident, this group has been measuring background radiation in Tsukuba, and it is available online, in one minute intervals here.  They report that typical background radiation is from 0.07 to 0.09 microSieverts per hour.  At this moment the reading is 0.17 microSieverts/hr.  Thus, the radiation exposure is between 2 and 3 times normal.  An extrapolated daily radiation dose from background would currently be about 4.08 microSieverts.  Of course, variations occur during the day, but as I said, this is back of the envelope stuff.

The Health Physics Society has a public information page that lists various references for radiation exposure due to commercial flying.  Somewhere (I've lost the link) I saw a number of 3 milleSieverts for a transoceanic flight.  The HPS ranges are broader, but that number is probably a pretty reasonable mark for an 11 hour flight in the northern latitudes.

So, the math:

~ 3000 microSieverts for an 11 hour transoceanic flight

~ 4 microSieverts for a day's background radiation exposure in Tsukuba at the current time

3000 / 4 = 750 days of exposure

And who stands around outside all day and all night, anyway? 

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last season's Lotus pods decaying in the lake at Ueno park in Tokyo

 

 

 

Its the Identifiers, Stoopid!

I don't recall the date, or even the year, but the moment I saw a URL emblazoned on the side of an eighteen wheel truck was an epiphany.  The Web was no longer a geeky idea belonging to a now-beknighted mathematician at CERN, but rather a tool of commerce and a vehicle of innovation. Nowdays, it is hard to find a truck without a URL on it, and indeed, the trucks themselves often have their own web identities (embedded in RFID chips that allow automated tracking of the trucks and their contents so as to streamline supply chains).

Linked data is the Next Big Thing among webulationists, but its really the last big thing recast.  TimBL's principles of linked data (shamelessly cut and pasted from Wikipedia) look an awful lot like... well... the Web as we have known it from the start:

1. Use URIs to identify things.
2. Use HTTP URIs so that these things can be referred to and looked up ("dereferenced") by people and user agents.
3. Provide useful information about the thing when its URI is dereferenced, using standard formats such as RDF/XML.
4. Include links to other, related URIs in the exposed data to improve discovery of other related information on the Web.

Ok, first off, 1 & 2 are redundent.  So, there are really only three principles. 

1. Identify stuff (with globally unique identifiers in the Web namespace).
2. Associate information with the identifiers in standardized ways
3. Link to other useful stuff.

Yikes... there are really only two principles.  Number 4 just means that the 'associated information' also has web identifiers.  As was true when the web started, various entities in a given [assertion|page|dataset] are expressed with web identifiers that allow a user or application to navigate a web of links:

1. Identify stuff with HTTP URIs
2. Aggregate identified-stuff in standard ways

As Maimonides said... All else is commentary.  At least, I think it was Maimonides.  Anyway... when I started this post, it was not my intention to simplify Sir TimBL's elegant representation of global knowledge.  Rather, I was pondering the ubiquity of our shared namespace, and its implications for libraries.  And, parenthetically, why libraries, august guardians of the world's knowledge for centuries, are so poorly represented on the Web.  As a community, libraries practically invented principle number 2.  Henriette Avram (and her colleagues) wrote the book... literally... on aggregating bibliographic descriptions in standard ways.

That was then, and this is now, and libraries still, largely, use that same book (MARC).  Its a bit dog-eared, and not well-suited to a world where trucks are known by their URLs.  But that isn't why libraries have such a dismal presence on the web.  Its the identifiers. Too many of them.

Search Engine Optimization (Google-juice, for the irreverant among us) is largely about concentrating the web identity of ideas, descriptions, or things under a single identifier.   Two identifiers rather than one?  Google-juice is diluted by half (assuming equal distribution of identifiers).  Three identifiers?  Four?  Pretty soon, you have that warm bucket of spit that Harry Truman popularized.

Can this be fixed?  Stay tuned for the next episode (but you know the answer already).

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The National Diet Library, Japan's national library, has three facilities.  This striking entry signage is for the International Library of Children's Literature, one of the three.  The Children's Literature library is located adjacent to the Tokyo National Museum, adjacent to Ueno Park.  The main NDL facility is also in Tokyo, and the third, the Kansai Kan facility, is south of Kyoto, near Nara (more on this as I catch up a bit).

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Thank you to Matthew Beacom for catching an error in the first formulation of this post.  I'm too embarrassed to admit what it was, having written this be-nighted (be-tween 2 and 4 in the be-ginning of the day, and may have been be-dazzled by the tiniest touch of the Jack Daniels that be by my bedstand (for the medicinal [and apparently unsuccessful] treatment of insomnia).

 

Illiteracy and Surprise

I've been in Japan for two weeks now, having arrived a few days after the Tohoku Quake shook the country, the financial markets, the outlook for nuclear energy on Planet Earth, and left the most casual observer with compassion for the displaced and awe for the power of water.  Friends and relatives have asked if evacuation was imminent, if the water was safe, if there was food on the shelves, and if I was afraid for my safety.  I've learned a good deal about radiation risks (or at least acquired some candidate perspectives). 

Mostly what I can report is that life is fairly normal here, if you happen not to reside along the north east coast of Honshu (the main island of Japan).  Ibaraki prefecture, where Tsukuba is, is the southernmost neighbor to Fukushima prefecture.  The ground here is still shaking with regularity, and there are reminders of the quake (some bareness of shelves, a closed shopping center of some size, disrupted train schedules, gasoline queues, and delays in the return of university students).  Prudence dictates attention to news sources that keep one apprised of radiation levels and water safety.  So far, the news here is encouraging.

From the perspective of a westerner with scant knowledge of Japanese, however, the main theme is my own illiteracy and the surprises that issue therefrom.  This is my eighth entry on three editions of passports, and one thing that no longer surprises is the civility and regard for confused visitors.  My string of unsolicited-assistance-in-train-stations remains unbroken.  Stand on a train platform in Japan with confusion on your face, and someone will venture assistance. 

This being my first visit longer than a week, I am seeing the country with a somewhat different perspective, however.  I have to shop.  It is a task I loathe under the best of circumstances, though here, it at least takes on the mantle of novelty.   Eggs come in tens, not twelves.  No packaging glyphs are remotely recognizable.  If it isn't see-through, it is opaque in the most profound sense.  Even if it *IS* see-though it is mostly opaque.  I bought something that looks like cooking oil (I tasted it tentatively when I got it home... think it is).  I bought something that looks like dishwashing detergent (yellow plastic squeeze bottle, a lemon icon on the label).  I'm not sure.  It contains a creamy whitish viscous fluid where I expected a yellowish clear viscous fluid. It may be sensible to abandon any notion of self provisioning and eat all my meals out.

The remote contol for the heating device in my room sometimes behaves predictably, other times leaves one bundled in long underwear and wool socks for the night.  The water pot has four buttons, the functions of two of which have become evident.  The controls for the toilets (in one hotel, it was also a remote control device) at least have charming icons that give you a clue that you've graduated to a new level of hygiene.  No one, not even the Germans, do plumbing this well. 

Today, I spent several hours in the care of Fujimoto san, who patiently led me through the bureaucracy of registering as a resident alien, getting a bank account, and paying my rent.  I can't imagine having surmounted these challenges alone.  Stores, billboards, kids clothing, eateries everywhere have English words in abundance, but it is unusual to find speakers of English.  I can ask for directions in Japanese, but rarely can understand the reply (point please!).  Still, the enthusiasm and civility that meets my feeble efforts gratifies.

Being illiterate and uncomprehending is intimidating and anxiety provoking, but also sharpens one's awareness, and primes for surprise.  Most everything is a surprise.  Especially the satisfactions of successfully negotiating a transit connection, an oasis of peaceful quiet in a raucous urban environment, the variety of dehydrated noodle soups for 100 jpy (a dollar or so).   So the ground shakes from time to time.  I've never felt more safe.

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Mount Fuji from the Shinkansen (Bullet Train, Kyoto to Tokyo at 300 km/hour)

 

 

 

Speaking of Vulnerability....

My friend Sharon Corner brought this Ted Talk to my attention:

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability

Goodness, there's a lot to unpack here

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A pair of lanterns from the Michinoku Wooden Boat Museum... such beauty in the commonplace

 

More on assessing personal risk (Japan quake and tsunami)

Selene Delap in Seattle posted the following link on her facebook page:

Some Perspectives on the Japan Earthquake

It is worth reading to counterbalance the inflammatory coverage that seems to be the main theme of the earthquake/tsunami coverage outside the country (and maybe within, to a degree... I can't tell, given my nearly non-existant Japanese language skills).

I don't mean to downplay the enormity of this tragedy... five times the loss of life of the Trade towers (but .01 times the terror).  The social and economic losses are staggering and scary.  The dislocation of the power grid is a significant and long term problem, considering the country relies on nuclear power for 30% of its energy needs (some of the train problems at this time are due to energy issues, not track disruption).

As an interested observer, I am spending a fair amount of time reading about the Fukushima reactor issues, and my own understanding of it is that the consequences are far closer to Three Mile Island than Chernoble.

I gather that the University of Washington is calling its students back to the US, in response to state department travel warnings.  Interesting that much of the information in this release describes the situation on March 11, and does not reflect what is happening in Japan today.  Extreme caution is entirely defensible in circumstances of extreme problems and high uncertainty.  If you're responsible to parents, the public, and the students themselves, it is understandable to err on the side of caution.  From my own perspective on the ground, there seems much less to be concerned about.

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A 'bear claw' clam rake I saw in the Michinoku wooden boat museum in Aomori last December.  I don't know how they fared in the quake.  Thew Aomori harbor should have been well protected from the tsunami.

 

 

 

The Unsolid World

The world is an unsolid place.  Most everyone knows this, but only those who live in seismically active places truly believe it.  When I was in grammar school, plate tectonics was brand new, and certainly not something we were taught.  Heresy, really.  Now, it is dogma known to every educated person.  Still we don't believe it.  Unless the earth moves under us... frequently.  As it is doing at the moment I am writing this sentence, eroding my disbelief.

Scarcely an hour passes without a reminder that the earth is a dynamic entity indeed.  Some of the reminders are so subtle as to be no more than a sub-aural rumble that might be a truck two streets distant.  Others last a minute or more -- uncertain seconds, one after another, that feed the imagination.  I haven't the experience to distinguish the fearful from the routine, so mostly I welcome their novelty and celebrate the brilliance of Japanese architectural practice that gives me the confidence of serene sleep in a nine story hotel four days after the fifth largest earthquake in recorded history. 

The unsolid sea, of course, is another matter entirely.

Falling Asleep in Class

Well, here I am.  It is 1:12 AM, and I am wide awake, having made the foolish mistake of falling asleep to CNN (and hence waking up to it not much later).  What a dreadful network, though good to know that they are going to stamp out human slavery (about time someone did that... really).

There have been water sytem issues and rolling blackouts in Tsukuba (I'm drinking Sapporo in a dimly lit hotel room to do my part).  I gather these problems are getting sorted out, so I'll need a different excuse soon.

I settled into my accommodations for the night (The Daiwa Roynet Hotel -- even in this stressful time, the staff are unfailingly friendly and courteous).  My twitter about being in Tsukuba got a raised-eyebrow mention concerning the latest status report on the Fukushima reactors.

A friend in Seattle sent me a link concerning measured radiation levels by prefectures, and the numbers are alarming.  Reading the comments, though, one is reminded of how tricky risk assessment is, and in particular when the technicalities and uncertainties are as great as in the present circumstance. 

I wish I had absorbed a bit more from my radionuclides class in graduate school.  The dominant memory from that term was waking with a start in the class, my notes in front of me having trailed into illegibility like a flattening EKG.  I can't recall, before or since, falling asleep in the act of writing.

So, reading these reports, I realize that I am incompetent to evaluate them.  I flail for truth, or even simple facts that admit common sense interpretation.  My ham-fisted decision framework for deciding   whether to stand or run is shaping up something like this:

• Governments are unlikely to be reliable sources of good decision-making fodder.  Eschew the pronouncements of bureaucrats.
• Radioactivity releases that do not involve the spewing of heavy metals into the atmosphere are probably not a serious threat at a distance.
• Significant venting or additional systems malfunctions at the Tokai nuclear power station (45 miles distant) will make me an avid student of travel timetables in Japan (which of course will be futile, as the queue will be rather long).
• Containment vessel breeches in any of the Fukushima reactors (120 miles distant) will furrow my brow and shake my confidence.
• Containment vessel breeches in the Tokai plant will occasion flight.
• Pay attention to what the locals are doing and saying (yes, problematic given my exceedingly limited Japanese language skills).  There is an English-language Facebook group for Tsukuba residents that will help (thanks, Melissa).
• Pay attention to what actual scientists say to those of us with limited expertise.  My go-to site for this is now the MIT Nuclear Information Hub (http://web.mit.edu/nse/).

Suggestions for elaboration welcome.

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Narita was very quiet this afternoon... spooky.

 

I

 

I arrived at Narita at 4:10 PM, early, in spite of a strange flight pattern that I can only interpret as a radiation-avoidance path (hard right at the southern end of Hokaido, between Honshu and Hokaido, south along the western margins of Honshu, then back over land at roughly the level of Sado Island, and into Narita).  Email from friends suggests there has been a further explosion at one of the Fukushima plants while I was in the air, but I haven't seen any news that I can understand as yet.  I had heard something to this effect before I left Seattle, but I don't know if it is the same explosion.

There was also news (before I left) of a problem at the Tokai nuclear plant in Ibaraki prefecture (where Tsukuba is located), but all I've heard so far is that it seems not to be an issue at the present time.

Clearing customs was eerie.  Elapsed time from plane door to the arrivals lobby was 20 minutes.  Very few people ahead of me, in spite of the fact I was nearly last off the plane.  Thanks to Shigeo's instructions about where to find the bus tickets, I got my ticket for Tsukuba and had lots of time to catch my breath, get some currency, and board a 5:25 bus.  The greatest hazard I've faced thus far was an American girl who sat beside me on a bench outside, waiting for the bus, and lit up a cigarette.

Watching CNN now, tucked into my hotel room at Tsukuba Center, but its mostly fluff, of course.  In the morning, I'll meet Shigeo and we'll find out whether the visiting scholar residence has water and electricity.

Before and After

The link to the New York Times' before and after images of various sites in the path of the tsunami appeared in my Twitter and Facebook feeds multiple times.  Pretty shocking evidence of the calamity that has, literally, swept over the country best prepared of any in world for such a disaster.

I am leaving for Japan Monday to begin a three month stint as visiting scholar at the Information School at the University of Tsukuba.  This will be my 8th visit to Japan, and by far my longest.  It will be a privilege to participate in the academic life of the school, and also to witness first-hand the determination of a great culture in meeting the challenges of one of the most severe natural disasters of our era.

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stones on Ruby Beach (or there abouts) on the Pacific coast of the Olympic Penninsula