Take something simple and take it seriously.
This has been popularized as one of Charlie Munger’s witty quotes, although the author we should be thanking is Garrett Hardin. One of Charlie Munger’s recommended books is Hardin’s Living Within Limits. And as book recommendations can be simple, they too need more seriousness, as I have previously argued.
What can be converted into a list has the risk of being automated. Checklists, the harnessing tool of complexity, can be automated. Playlists, the songs we categorize by themes and activities, can be automated. As can book lists.
When an activity has been automated, it becomes simple. Breathing. Chewing. Seeing. Technically, several steps follow from each of these actions, but our organic systems have honed the steps down into automation to the point where we don’t notice when they happen.
The nervous system can be converted into the somatosensory and the autonomic systems. The autonomic ones take over without our conscious control. Their rules are simple — rest and digest or fight, flee, or freeze.
Businesses that make their interactions with customers simple, not necessarily pleasurable, win big time by possibly converting customer experience into an automatic one. Consider how certain words have been converted into verbs. Google and Uber are perfect examples. Getting their services is simple, and by now, getting an Uber app is nearly automatic.
When businesses convert what was initially complex into something simple, certain lines can get crossed. These are the moments when we have to summon the words of Garrett Hardin and take the simple seriously, because they might be used for ugly outcomes.
It becomes simple when…
A thumb swing is automatic.
To which Nyashinski would comment, “Umezoeshwa vibaya ndio hujiwezi, umh.”
The thumb is opposable to improve our grasp of objects. As we evolved from quadrupeds to bipeds, our hands were freed for tool manoeuvrability. Tactile prehension improved. It took millions of years.
In contrast, it has taken a few years to convert the thumb into a flipping or scrolling phalange. For many growing kids, they may not know how to hold a pencil, a pen, or a chalk. Cursive writing may disappear in a single generation, leaving patches of residual writers who may have prided themselves on letter writing.
Activities become simple when they have been automated. So why not automate the urge to log into our social media accounts and scroll the feed?
That word, “feed,” is telling. Who do we typically feed? The baby. Cattle. Pets. They say you are what you eat or consume, not what you feed. The feed converts a complex brain into something easy to control, like a baby, cattle, or pets. It’s an amazing innovation that makes it easy for users.
Consider someone with a thousand followers or friends. Without the feed, they would have had to go to every account to see what they posted. It would have been tedious. The feed and stories have lifted that burden. It has made it simple. Then, by learning your patterns, it “feeds” you the kind of content you may like. This is a subtle but stepwise process to get to know you without asking any questions. An algorithm has converted a complex being such as yourself into a simpleton. The companies can then improve it to make it automatic such that you will continue liking the stream of content you feed on.
While I have used the example of babies, pets, and cattle, I like to think of ourselves as cattle. Herders kept cattle because it was a source of pride, wealth, and means of sustenance. Since I have a social media account, I am a cow in the herd.
A herder wouldn’t want any of their cattle to get sick. Death has to come out of the herder’s command. They will otherwise prevent it from happening. Think of the time when you tried to delete your Facebook account. I deleted mine in 2015. They just couldn’t let me. They kept on asking at every step if I still wished to delete the account. They were losing control of what they thought was within their reach.
For the cows, the Maasai can whip them back into the herd. For humans, you can’t unleash such a weapon. You have to soothe them back. If you can harness the nostalgic moments, even better. Deplatforming is the weakness of platforms.
Simplification is encouraged until that point when its utility is meaningless.
Think of Pi. Its fraction form, 22/7, is the most complete version. In contrast, its decimal form can be shortened. From 3.142 to 3.14 to 3.1 and eventually to 3. We cannot say that 3 is Pi, but when you round it off, 3.142 is closer to 3 than 4. Simplification destroys the power of the decimal version of Pi.
Pi is a transcendental number. It goes on infinitely with no known end and without any clear pattern. For that reason, it is unique, strange, and without comparison. Between two finite numbers, 3 and 4, lies an infinite one. Hidden, meaningful, powerful detail. That is the amount of power simplification can take from us.
Which brings me to the other word I dislike — content. Dislike serves as a soft censure when the goal is apparent among the platform owners. Every single account that hopes to steal our attention does so by using “content.” Every form of creation, if it is convertible into its digital version, can get the untoward, unpalatable label of content.
You drew or even prompted AI to make caricatures, then you shared them on IG? Content. You do TikTok dances? Content. You make podcasts and share the shorts on YouTube? Content.
Every form of online creation gets the same name. It takes the diversity and collapses it into a single, bland word. Simplification of this kind destroys art. With a thick cover, simplifying in this sense hides deep, meaningful, and powerful detail.
Consider how writing has evolved over the years. At some point, it was on walls and tablets. It changed to papyrus sheets and manuscripts. Then came paper and books. Now we have blogs and e-books. The evolution of writing has not destroyed the art of writing. What it may have dimmed is the handwriting, which was a unique way for an author to pour themselves onto a surface without anyone ever copying their work. Using universal fonts simplified everyone’s writing. Times New Roman on your tablet is no different from mine on my mini laptop. Simplification tends to have such an effect.
Speaking about fonts, insisting on Times New Roman or Arial collapses the options to two versions approved in most formal settings. That is now the real consequence of simplification. It becomes almost automatic which font to use. That is not what art is about. Art is a verb. It should change the creator and the viewer. Simplification can dull this effect. Now, back to that ugly word, content.
Content converts every artistic form into a single batch, smoothing the rough edges we appreciate in particular art forms. It’s like the decline of colour. In the past, movies were awash with different versions of colour, but that diversity has narrowed down. Attempting to create a film like it was in the olden days requires courage. Simplification can destroy the incentive to deviate from the normal.
Courage is what the production team did with Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. They included 3D animation, anime versions, black-and-white scenes, and 2D snapshots into a single motion picture. It is by far the greatest animation I have ever seen. Art. No simplification. Rather, tapping into creativity and hoping the audience appreciates what the art was conveying. Small wonder they won many accolades.
On social media, this simplification of the word “content” easily rolls off the tongue, the way the thumb scrolls the screen. It has been automated. Boxing each creation into a single word makes it easier for the platform to create the rules. Who wins? The one with the most engagement. So why not gamify the entire process?
Likes. Bookmarks. Reshares. Subscriptions. Followers. And to make the cattle bend to the cracking of the whip, subject every content to the rules of the algorithm. Let the creators struggle to crack it.
Simplification takes the power from the artist and gives it to the platform owners. While the classical Bohemian artist did not conform to the demands that shackle their creativity, they only yielded to the artistic call. What would you have an artist do when they no longer control the very creation they make? Rather, they are made to feel like they have no control over it.
In the past, Renaissance artists would make their work and move on to the next one with little care for the previous ones. The art compelled them to work. By releasing their artistic work to the world and swiftly moving on to the next one, they freed themselves from the chains of their previous work. Their creation left an indelible print of the artist, confident that, combined with the idea they intended to convey, it would stand alone. No need for validation by likes. No need for reshares. No need for virality.
Some artwork became viral after the death of the artist. As a writer, my favourite art includes books. Jane Austen’s creative work gained prominence after she died. That is the creed of the artist. Create, unflinchingly, and let the world do what it wishes, provided they don’t destroy your work.
Converting every creative work into “content” numbs these artistic powers.
The same sequence applies to AI consultations. LLMs, to be specific. Don’t know something? Well, you can ask ChatGPT. You don’t even need to know what is being asked. Consider an online argument about a concept. You can copy-paste the entire paragraph and ask ChatGPT what it means and whether you can build a rebuttal. You then copy-paste the rebuttal and hope the other side yields. That’s not how thinking works, but the offloading of thinking to these platforms has been simplified. It has been so simplified that it is not that far away from automation. And when something is automated, you don’t think about it. Outsourcing our thinking to LLMs is practically a global means to convert humans into mindless herds.
In a gold rush, don’t dig for gold — sell shovels
I have taken days thinking about this quote.
How can one make money from the gold seekers? First, create an idea that what is difficult to get is valuable. Gold has to be mined from the ground and purified. But it is not a guarantee that you will find it. This hazy possibility is the substance of economies and successful business. From it, you can begin to milk the cow. Sell shovels. Let the buyers do the mining.
Centuries later it became oil. Don’t go seeking it; sell the derricks and derrick-adjacent equipment. If not that, then the ships. If not that, then issue a customs fee in the journey from source to market. Create economies off it by subjecting everyone to a life that would grind to a halt if a strait is blocked.
The structure is no different from what I have already shared. First, convert something complex into something simple. Then automate it. Automate the transport business. Automate the price of simple goods. Automate the power grid. The same method is afoot with the use of rare metals.
Online, the new oil has been called attention. Get everyone’s attention, and you’ll be making money. And like the gold rush, every young adult wants to become an influencer because they have been sold this story. It’s a hazy boundary. You may not get this oil. Compared to shovels and derricks, it is cheap. You can take photos, use filters, and post.
Shovels and derricks come in different forms. They are these very filters. They come for free too.
Strange.
Why are the platform owners not selling these filters? These options for sharing your material? Why are they not paywalling the reshare button?
Well, “Bundles zako zikiisha utapitwa usipo-renew.”
Some are. A premium account on LinkedIn or a verified badge on X increases your reach. But now many people would opt in. Not everyone with a social media account is a creator. Thus, they hit two stones with one bird. Influencers make money because of their reach, and the passive consumers sell their preferences for free to the platform creators and owners.
Preferences are acquired by converting the thumb into a scrolling tool. Content is gamified to note which account owners fit which businesses. Their products and services are thrown at you through the feed. The process is automated to secondarily serve the influencers, but primarily the platform owners. Simplify and automate.
The other shovels are not sold to online account users, but the companies wishing to market their products. It comes at a fee. It is a promise that should these companies mine, they are not going blindly at it, hoping to strike a huge oil reserve. It is a near guarantee. Make that three stones with one bird.
As much as I like the simple, I don’t like how this has been weaponized.
What I’m trying to say is…
Take something simple and take it seriously.
Now that I have broken the process down into simple steps — simplify and automate — we need to take it seriously.
Some billionaires have. And because others are not taking it seriously, they have been converted into cattle.
But as Nyashinski says, “Standard ya quality sisi hapa.”
Let’s create our standards. And let’s do it seriously.
This song inspired some of the lines used in this article. Source — YouTube