Turning 30 is weird. First, because it means I’ve existed for three bloody decades, which… holy shit. Second, because it implies I am now “an adult” (in theory). Third, because it's been changing how I see things. Call it the prospect of starting to make some serious decisions that will impact life as I know it for the foreseeable future. Stuff like buying a house, kids, marriage. Or call it a quarter-life crisis. My third or fourth in the last decade, anyway.
30 is a time of potential, because life ain’t over yet, but it’s also a time of thinking about consequences. And both of those things – potential and consequences – are eerily related to whatever we’re meant to do when we do strategy. We think of potential futures. And then we evaluate the consequences of those futures. One cannot live separated from the other if we’re to be effective.
Anyway. This is more about life.
Consequences without potential means you’ll live scared all the time and never leave the house. But potential without consequences means you’ll live chasing your tail all the time. And for better or for worse, that now makes me think of our collective notions of progress. What it means and what it does. To us and to others.
"These people [elites] love to ask what they can do, they never ask what they have done." — Anand Giridharadas
I have a mixed relationship with progress. Because while we desperately need more progress on issues like gender equality, diversity and mental health, to name a few, other types of progress do make me wonder about where we’re actually headed. Such types mostly seem to come from the tech industry these days.
I’m not an academic on the subject, but from what I’ve read about the post-1970s history of “the tech industry”, it seems to be profoundly rooted on the idea that only technology can liberate us from our current maladies. The world is a technical problem to be solved, and tech can solve it. Which in principle is a powerful vision. But in practice, it’s led us to some pretty fucked up places.
Places where the largest social network in the world is consistently and effectively weaponised for geopolitical interests. Where more work equals more happiness, but actually it just means more shit to do until all you have in your life is your job (but hey, #lovethehustle). Where the promise of universal basic income seems to be a solid pitch to get companies with monopolistic ambitions to outsource their salaries to the government. Or where the future of food is conflated with the optimal level of nutrition, as if food were just a function to be fulfilled and not one of the great joys in life.
I have a problem with how our tech-driven society seems to want to reduce things to their ultimate function. And I have a problem with efficiency as the only measure of progress. If efficiency is all there is, then all we’re aiming for is an endless run to making things faster, cheaper, more automated and therefore utterly meaningless. You want to talk to me about how when everything’s automated we’ll all rejoyce in our newfound love for painting or poetry or Aperol Spritz? Who do you think will run the machines?
I am not against tech. I am against the idea of tech eating the world, especially if that means it will also eat our humanity by the time it’s done. Yes, efficiency is important. But if we don’t balance its potential and consequences, we’ll be left with a binary vision whereby the worthwhile things in life are either more efficient or never good enough. [tweet this]
In the interest of efficiency, I’ll finish with three carefully chosen words that adequately express my feelings: Fuck. That. Shit.
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