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“But of course!”

That’s the best sort of breakthrough idea.

An idea that after it is seen, can’t be unseen, an idea that changes what comes next.

No need to change the world. A tiny part of the world, even one person, is enough for today.

On doing the reading

It’s essential.

Domain knowledge is a gift. It’s how we advance in our field and in society. The insights and false steps of those that came before us, laid out clearly, there to be learned.

And it’s sort of a trap.

Because you used to be able to do ALL the reading. You could read all the essential science fiction books before you wrote yours. You could watch all the key movies before you directed yours. You could understand all the current thinking in a field of medicine before you prescribed a drug…

No longer.

Some people have responded to the long tail of available “reading” by deciding to do none of it, as if naive beginner’s mind is an appropriate strategy for a professional.

And some have responded by simply freezing in place, demanding perfect knowledge before making an assertion.

Clearly, the successful path lies somewhere on the curve.

There comes a moment in doing your reading where new work begins to rhyme. When you start to see the connections. When you understand who influenced the person you’re engaging with right now.

That’s the moment to begin shipping your work and making your own assertions.

All the answers

In an expert-run industrialized economy, there’s a lot of pressure to be the one who’s sure, the person with all the answers.

Far more valuable is someone who has all the questions. The ability to figure out what hasn’t been figured out and see what hasn’t been seen is a significant advantage.

Rarest of all is the person with the humility (and confidence) to realize that even the list of questions can remain elusive. Finding the right questions might be the very thing we need to do.

The Goldilocks fallacy

One way to tell if the audience is happy is to ask a simple question: “Do you want it spicier?” (or the equivalent).

If half the people want it to go in one direction and the other half want the other, then you know you’re at ‘just right’. You’ve minimized the number of unhappy customers.

Here’s the problem: This assumes that there’s a normal distribution of preferences. In nature, many things are in fact distributed like this. Height, for example, or sensitivity to loud sounds. Most people are in the middle, fewer people are at either end. The goal when making something for everyone, if everyone is distributed normally, is to seek out the middle.

But!

Personal preferences aren’t normally distributed. Most people don’t care at all, some people care a lot.

And!

In any market with choices, you’re no longer going to be able to serve everyone, because given a choice, people will make a choice.

So, seeking the Goldilocks equilibrium is a trap. While it might diminish criticism, it maximizes apathy. While it might increase your appeal to a hypothetical middle-of-the-road consumer, it might be that there aren’t many of these.

For many products and services, the middle is hollowed out. What you’re left with are the people who want a lot more or want a lot less of whatever it is you’re able to adjust.

When in doubt, look for the fear

My friend Amy taught me that “craven” doesn’t mean what I thought it meant. I’ve been using it to mean, “selfish in a particularly short-sighted way.” It actually means fearful and gutless.

But, exploring the thesaurus, I discovered that it also means “dastardly.” I was sure that Snidely Whiplash was a dastardly villain. A dastardly deed must be something bad.

Nope, it means “cowardly.”

But wait!

It turns out that it also means particularly selfish and evil.

When someone is fearful enough, craven enough, they sometimes end up acting in unsocial and even hurtful ways.

While there are definitely some super villains among us, it’s more likely we’re simply dealing with someone who feels like he’s drowning.

[PS I have a brand new short video course on LinkedIn on decision making. It’s free for the next six hours.]

Defending change (or the status quo)

The easy argument to make is that the thing we have now is better than the new thing that’s on offer.

All one has to do is take the thing we have now as a given (ignoring its real costs) and then challenge the defects and question the benefits of the new thing, while also maximizing the potential risk.

“A hand-written letter is more thoughtful, more likely to be a keepsake, and a more permanent record than a simple email.”

On the other hand, the technophile defending change simply has to list all the new features and ignore the benefits we’re used to.

“An email is far faster, cheaper and easier to track than a letter. It is more likely to be saved, and it can be sorted and searched. Not to mention copied and forwarded with no problem.”

What’s truly difficult is being a fair arbiter. I fall into this trap all the time. We begin to develop a point of view, usually around defending the status quo, but sometimes around overturning it, and then the arguments become more and more concrete. While we might pretend to be evenhanded, it’s very hard to do.

Sometimes, we end up simply arguing for or against a given status quo, instead of the issue that’s actually at hand.

And the danger is pretending you’re being fair, when you’re not. In this silly article from the Times, the author (and their editors) are wondering if oat milk and pea milk are a “scam.”

This is a classic case of defending the status quo. Here’s a simple way to tell if that’s what you’re doing: imagine for a second that milk was a new product, designed to take on existing beverages made from hemp, oats or nuts. Defending oat milk against the incursion of cow milk is pretty easy.

The author could point out the often horrific conditions used to create cow milk. “Wait, you’re going to do what to that cow?” They could write about the biological difficulty many people have drinking it. Or they could focus on the significant environmental impact, not to mention how easily it spoils, etc.

Or imagine that solar power was everywhere, and someone invented kerosene, gasoline or whale oil. You get the idea…

There are endless arguments to be had when new ideas arrive. The challenge is in being clear that we’re about to take a side, and to do it on the effects, not on our emotional connection to the change that’s involved.

Messing with Strathern’s Law

“When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.”

Marilyn Strathern expanded on Charles Goodhart’s comment about monetary policy and turned it into a useful law of the universe.

As soon as we try to manipulate behaviors to alter a measure, it’s no longer useful.

That’s why you can’t believe social media metrics. Because they don’t measure anything except whether someone is good at making them go up.

Labor and value

Adam Smith and David Ricardo argued that all value comes from labor, and the value of something is in the amount of labor it took to produce it.

But Henry George understood that this is backward. The value of something lies in how much labor we’re willing to exchange for it.

Too often, we’re tempted to price things based on what they cost us to make. It’s more useful to price things based on what they’re worth to those that might want to buy them.

Gift cards, serial numbers and hard technology

I bought someone a digital gift card the other day. That’s generally a bad idea, since there’s so much waste and breakage, but it was the right answer to the problem in the moment.

The code the person would have to type in to redeem the card was: X5LMFP478DRYTHQY

I’m sure that the team who worked on creating a secure platform for the transfer of billions of dollars of transactions was proud of the hard work they did.

Except no one wants to type this in, and it’s incredibly impersonal.

It could have been just as secure if there was a list of 1,000 words and the code was five of the words. All the words could be positive and easy to spell and remember. Typing in “happy love birthday celebrate friend walrus” is going to be more memorable, fun and engaging, and the computer is smart enough to ignore the spaces.

The day before, the tech support folks at a different big company wanted me to read off the serial number on the bottom of a device. I’m sure the tech folks were proud of the check digits and other elements that were embedded in the serial number, which was printed in grey type considerably smaller than this blog is written in. It included a 0 and an O as well as a 1 and perhaps an l.

And the serial number for my oven requires lying on the floor to read it.

In all of these cases, the organizations failed because they decided that humanity and technical issues don’t overlap. These minor issues I’m complaining about are nothing compared to the life-changing impacts that technology that avoids the hard problems can create.

In medical school, they spend days teaching people to operate on lungs, and no time at all helping young doctors learn how to get their patients to stop smoking and get vaccinated. The technologists forgot about the human issues.

This is most glaring when we go near the edges of a bell curve. Disabled people or folks who are out of the mean in any way are shunted aside by what the busy but blindered tech people think is important. A captcha that doesn’t work, machine learning that doesn’t learn well, systems that don’t serve the people who need them…

Technology that doesn’t solve a problem for the people using it isn’t finished yet.

Raining on your picnic (on your birthday)

A friend just got handed an unreasonable rejection. It came on a platter, delivered with very little in the way of kindness and no hints at all about what to do next.

It is not personal.

Not about her.

She did nothing wrong. It might not even be about her idea.

No one wants exactly what you want, sees what you see, believes what you believe. That’s normal.

Oh, that happened. Now what?

Go plan another picnic.