This revolution is small but it matters to me
How many layers must you wade through in the search for your own writing’s common thread?
I once said that persuasion was my own writing’s common thread, but now I’m realizing there’s more to it.
Humanity. The human condition. What does this mean for the humans involved? These are the matters that often surface in my writings, whether blog posts or short stories or aspiring novels.
Can one argue that these questions are irrelevant? Don’t they hit at the heart of what really matters? Whether we’re talking business or tech or relationships, humans are the most important part of the equation. And not just shareholders. Or the C-suite. But top to bottom. Within and throughout and beyond.
My recent rereading of Paul Kalanithi’s beautiful memoir When Breath Becomes Air sees me returning to my roots of asking about the point of life.
Why bother if you feel it’ll all be pointless at some time? What’s the point of it all while we’re here? What do we focus on for however many days we have?
To that question, I answer: human connection. Human connection is what makes life rewarding. Interesting. Meaningful. Life is meant to be shared with other humans.
When you remove human connection, you miss something. Again, look at business and tech, two aspects of our lives that have become far less human and less human-centered over the years. I’m well aware that businesses of all types exist to make money, but I worry the pendulum has swung too far in the wrong direction. I have similar worries for tech, as humanity is the largest component missing in the AI devolution (AKA the codification of average).
In his book Survival of the Richest, Douglas Rushkoff recounts how some tech elites met with the author for advice about surviving in their doomsday bunkers during the inevitable societal collapse. When one of the bros asked Rushkoff how he should persuade his head of security to protect him in a time in which money is worthless, Rushkoff suggested he try treating the security personnel well now, before things fall apart. The tech bros laughed.
Can they not fathom any value beyond money and bits and bytes and likes and shares? Can they not see the value in relationships and can they not see why someone else may find value in simply being treated like a human being?
The bad news is that humanity seems to be missing in so many of our regular transactions. The good news is that I think this is a great opportunity for businesses. The standards are so low, it doesn’t take much to add a personal touch to an experience. I’m getting similar vibes to when Apple started promoting privacy as a feature of its products. Sure, we can poke holes into Apple’s claims all day. But the obvious answer is reminiscent of the joke about happening upon a hungry bear in the woods: I don’t have to outrun the bear; I just have to outrun you. Apple doesn’t have to have the highest privacy standards; their standards just have to better than the competition’s.
And businesses don’t have to be truly human—they just have to be better than their peers. (Grocery stores can start by replacing self-checkout lines.)
If we continue to choose paths that remove humanity from our regular experiences, then what kind of existence are we creating and endorsing? If nothing else, we’re making it easier for machines to replace us, because we’re negating our greatest advantage. We’re leveling the playing field. This is one situation in which we should not follow this strategy.
I want more humanity in business. In tech. I want the Web to be more human and messy and strange. I want stories that are about more than plot points—I want to know what those experiences mean for the humans involved.
I want more humanity in my day-to-day. Is that too much to ask?
Note: The title of this post is borrowed from the lyrics of ‘Without Any Words’ by ‘68.
