johnmaconline

I’m an engineer. That’s both a vocation and a personality trait.

In college, engineering students are taught that engineering problems have a correct answer — a perfect solution, you might say. On a test, they usually do. But in real life, there are no perfect solutions.

Designing real-life solutions means compromise. We start with requirements, and then we negotiate amongst those requirements.

“Which of these are basic must-haves?”
“Which are the product differentiators?”
“Which are the nice-to-haves if possible?”
“Which can we push out to version 2.0 or 3.0?”

Almost by definition, all solutions will be imperfect. But we can build a great solution if even an imperfect one. To do so, we often strive for elegance.

Engineering elegance can manifest itself in a single line of code, a subroutine, or the interface between internet services. It can be found in the operation of a control circuit, a switching mechanism, or the load-bearing beam in a skyscraper. Elegance also shows up in the line of the fender, the sheen of the exposed pipe, or the lever’s feel in your hand.

Elegance is subjective, but you know it when you see it. Artists speak of it. So do mathematicians and physicists. Elegance usually marries function with aesthetics and has an economy to it.

Finding imperfect but elegant solutions through compromise and negotiation has taught me a great deal about people problems.

Useful solutions will, by definition, be imperfect, but that doesn’t mean we can’t strive for elegance.

If you’re starving and before you sit a plate of carrots and a bowl of razor blades, your choice is instinctual. 

What if, however, your choice was between peanut butter and vegemite? In this case, your choice depends on where and with whom you grew up.

Sometimes, basic human needs drive our choices. Other times they’re driven by desires. Desires are not instinctual, and our central nervous system isn’t going to weigh in on the matter. Therefore, we look outside of ourselves for a model to help us choose what’s worthy of our desire — mimetic desires. 

Our models could be another person, or it could be a tribe.

Mimetic desires lead to benign phenomena such as Christmas toy shortages, the rise and fall of Fireball whiskey, and every fashion trend since the beginning of time. 

But they’re also at the heart of many trends we may consider inherent within ourselves. 

Why does one choose to include pronouns in their profile?
Why does one choose to “buy American?”
Why does one resonate with the protestors in a clash with the police?
Why does one resonate with the police in that same clash?

If we’re not careful, we conflate mimetic desires with labels such as wokeist, nationalist, racist, or fascist. That’s our natural inclination to look at issues as a toggle switch, good vs. evil. 

But the path to a better world recognizes mimetic desires, understands the appeal of models, and respects (if not agrees with) another’s choices. 

Scarcity drives the cost and the status of many things.

For some things, this works. 

For example, take the Mona Lisa.  

Scarcity works here because who cares how much someone is willing to pay for it? The status it proffers on its owner is meaningless outside of a very small circle. Also, would it matter if a private collector, rather than a public art museum, owned and hid it from us? 

However, take an elite institution such as Harvard University.

If this is one of the best colleges on earth, shouldn’t they try to instruct more students, not less? Shouldn’t it be one of the most affordable rather than one of the least (EFC == 0 families aside)?

The problem with scarcity and status, like many things, is a matter of who benefits versus who suffers. If we want to move forward as a culture and a species, let’s stop using scarcity when it matters most.

Think about a moment, whether at work or home, when the chaos was invigorating. The chaos gave you energy, sharpened your senses, and made you happy.

You may have even said to yourself, “This is what its all about. I need more of this chaos in my life.”

Now think about a moment when the calm was invigorating. The calm recharged your batteries, allowed you to think, and made you happy.

You may have even said to yourself, “This is what its all about. I need more of this calm in my life.”

Sometimes I think we get so caught up wishing we had more that we miss the moment. We miss the opportunity before us.

What we really need is more presence and more gratitude in the moment.

I was probably a little unfair with my previous take on SBF and effective altruism. 

I said, “Effective altruists believe that making and then using gobs of money to influence the world is a noble goal as long as you’re very, very smart. “

OK, that’s the kind of hyperbolic leap I often rail against on The250. To be fair, effective altruism is a bit more nuanced. Specifically, it’s about using data rather than emotions to guide the charitable practice (i.e., the smart approach).

But that still misses the point. Altruism, charity, and giving is all about emotions. It’s 100% emotions. 

Effective altruism does exist, but it’s not a function of the smart people who think about it correctly. It doesn’t flow from data because that would require the assumption that an objectively correct vision for the world exists. 

Effective altruism flows from the giver. It’s about intention and the emotional investment of the giver. It’s about one person or group giving what they can out of love to help another person or group. 

It’s about the people who feel about it correctly.

Even if you don’t know anything about crypto, you’ve probably heard of Sam Bankman-Fried and the meltdown of his crypto exchange FTX.

You have plenty of opportunities to spend your outrage budget on what happened, crypto, greed, politics, political donations, mainstream media, and capitalism. 

But so far, I think we’re missing the real opportunity.

SBF (clearly, we’re all on an acronym-name basis with him, aren’t we?) has stated his purpose in getting wealthy as “effective altruism.” Effective altruists believe that making and then using gobs of money to influence the world is a noble goal as long as you’re very, very smart. 

This is utter bullshit.  

It’s one of the most pretentious, condescending, and narcissistic philosophies I could imagine. 

“I’m rich. Therefore, I’m smart. Therefore, I know best. Stand aside and watch me make this world a better place — the way I think it should be.”

Altruism, at its core, isn’t about outcomes or amounts. It’s also not about some objectively correct vision of the world. 

The real opportunity here is to shine a light on true effective altruism. 

Altruism is about the giver. It’s about you, your humanity, and how much you care about your fellow humans.

Have you seen the Progressive “what really happened?” replay commercials? Brilliant 30-second storytelling, and equally good at unveiling our lack of factual recall.

How many times would you have loved to throw the challenge flag in the middle of an argument and revisit the replay to prove how it actually happened (or, rather, your version of how it happened)? 

Certainly, the replay will match the story in your head, right?

Ah, but what would the replay show? What were the facts of the story? Who did what? What was the sequence? 

Many studies have concluded that we’re generally terrible at remembering factual details of past events. However, our brains are excellent at remembering how that event made us feel. Sometimes we’ll even distort the details to preserve or enhance the remembered emotions.

Hence, the intriguing carrot of the challenge flag and replay. Let’s set the record straight (and prove you wrong).

Revisionist history happens every day in all parts of our lives. We do it. Leadership does it. Tribes do it. Sometimes intentional (and malicious), but most often not. 

I often wonder how much more unity and progress we could generate if, rather than focusing on past facts, we led with the understanding that whatever those facts were, they generated the feelings that now exist.

You see, setting the record straight isn’t always about who’s right and who’s wrong, but why we feel the way we do. 

Kanye West is just the latest in a long line.

Before him came Kenneth Halliwell, Paul Gauguin, and Picasso. How about Louis CK, Dave Chappelle, and Bill Cosby? And depending upon your political lean, you might even raise an eyebrow at Kid Rock, Bruce Springsteen, Aaron Lewis, or Neil Young.

What if we expand the definition of “art” a bit?

What about Colin Kaepernick, Mike Vick, Pete Rose, Barry Bonds, Lance Armstrong, or Muhamed Ali?

What if we expand it a little further?

George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abe Lincoln, or Robert E Lee?

We could keep going and expanding the definition of art until we land right on your front doorstep.

Yes, you. And me.

Can we separate you and me from what it is we do? That’s a bit messy, isn’t it? Because we have some of us in all of our work. Of course, we do.

Take me, for instance. I work in the tech industry. I create biometric sensor software. One could plausibly say I’m part of the evil, anti-freedom, Big Brother empire. But am I?

If we canceled the work of every person who’s sinned, we’d be left with zero work, except that from a single human. 

The only way forward is to ask ourselves, “Is consuming, participating, or utilizing the same as condoning?”

Only you can decide for yourself. Don’t let the tribe do it for you. 

You have 86400 seconds each day.

Today. Tomorrow. The day after that.

You are free to decide how you’ll spend your emotions during those seconds. No tribe can tell you how to spend your emotions.

But they sure will try.

You are a free and sentient human being. Act like it.

Why does someone become a barista?

Maybe they love coffee and the atmosphere of the cafe.
Maybe they love people, especially coffee people.
Maybe they’re an artist.
Maybe it’s simply a job that they could get.

A good barista makes all the difference. Not just in the coffee itself but the whole experience.

We’re fortunate to live in a world that allows most to choose a path. This variety (dare I say diversity?) brings a richness to our lives that we can easily take for granted. We often assume that everyone should be like us, want the same things as us, or see the world the same as us.

Besides coffee, what other services and experiences in your life are enhanced by the physical proximity and personal touch of another human?

The barista has chosen this path. Let’s remember that it’s hard to do that work remotely.