I've been sharing Rogers production adoption curve for a long time, but I realize that it doesn't viscerally explain what's actually happening. Here's a better way to think about it:
[Click to enlarge]
Different people have different mindsets when encountering various markets. Some people are eager to try new foods, but always rely on proven fashions or cars. Some people live on the edge of popular culture when it comes to lifestyle, but want to be in the back of the room when it comes to their understanding of the latest science…
Every important idea starts out on the fringe. It's not obvious, proven or readily explained. And a tiny group of people, people who like the fringe, engage with it.
Sometimes, that fringe idea begins to resonate with those around the fringe-loving. This might have been what happened to punk music at CBGB. Now it's risky, but there are more people doing it. Again, these are the kind of people who like to seek out things that are risky (but hey, not fringe, they're not crazy.)
Sometimes, more rarely, the risky idea is seen by some culture watchers as a 'new thing'. They alert their audience, the folks that want to be in on the new thing, but can't risk being wrong, so they avoid the risky.
When enough people embrace a new thing, it becomes a hot thing, and then the hot thing might go mass.
The numbers don't lie: There are more people in the mass group! There are people who only buy pop hits, who only go to restaurant chains, who only drive the most popular car. In fact, it's the decision of this group in aggregate that makes the thing they choose the big hit.
Finally, when enough people with the mass worldview accept an idea, they begin to pressure the rest of the people around them, insisting that they accept the new idea as if it's always been the right thing to do, because that's what this group seeks, the certainty of the idea that has always been true.
You can apply this cycle to Talking Heads, diet ideas, the role of various genders and races in society, precepts of organized religion, political movements, sushi, wedding practices… Things that are accepted now, things that virtually everyone believes in as universal, timeless truths, were fringe practices a century or less ago.
The mistake idea merchants make is that they bring their fringe ideas to people who don't like fringe ideas, instead of taking their time and working their way through the progression.
If you agree with every step of the argument, but the conclusion leaves you angry or uncomfortable, it might be time to reconsider your worldview, not reject the argument.
Parents, taxpayers, citizens, let's not waste another year. What happens if every teacher and school board member starts discussing what school is for? Please share with four people… that's all it would take to start the conversation.
One last thing to think about: What would happen to our society if we spent twice as much time and money on education as we do now? And not just on the wealthy, but on everyone, especially on everyone.
What if every six-year-old was reading, if math and science were treated as opportunities, not chores, if community service and leadership got as much space in the local paper and on TV as sports do?
The real win is creating a generation that actually delights in learning. Once people want to learn, there are more self-directed avenues open than ever before.
I wonder how many people will have to speak up before we end up redefining what 'good enough' looks like when it came to the single most important thing we do for our future and our kids.
1. Advertising and marketing are no longer the same thing.
2. The most valuable forms of marketing are consumed voluntarily.
3. The network effect is the most powerful force in the world of ideas.
(The last assertion is based on the fact that culture changes everything about how we live our lives, and culture is driven by the network effect… society works because it's something we do together.)
Just about every big organization ignores all three.
Yesterday, I visited a shop that only sells children's books. The store was empty and I asked the clerk, "Do you know where I can find Yertle the Turtle?"
He walked over to the computer, typed a few keystrokes and said, "I don't think we have it, do you know who the author is?"
Stunned silence.
[I found the section myself–they had three copies]
It's possible that he thinks his job is to be a clerk, to keep people from stealing things, to type letters into a computer and to read the results out loud as he stands at the cash register.
If that's the case, this store, like all stores staffed by clerks who are taught to be merely clerks, is doomed.
On the other hand, it's possible that his job is to take it personally, to be interested, to notice, to care, to add more value than a website can.
Who gets hired, how are they trained, where is the magic?
What happens when the boss cares enough to only hire, train and work with people who take it personally?
It's a pretty easy way to let ourselves (or someone else) off the hook. "Hey, you did your best."
But it fails to explain the improvement in the 100-meter dash. Or the way we're able to somehow summon more energy and more insight when there's a lot on the line. Or the tremendous amount of care and love we can bring to a fellow human who needs it.
By defining "our best" as the thing we did when we merely put a lot of effort into a task, I fear we're letting ourselves off the hook.
In fact, it might not require a lot of effort, but a ridiculous amount of effort, an unreasonable amount of preparation, a silly amount of focus… and even then, there might be a little bit left to give.
It's entirely possible that it's not worth the commitment or the risk or the fear to go that far along in creating something that's actually our best. But when we make that compromise, we should own it. "It's not worth doing my best" is actually more honest and powerful than failing while being sort of focused.
No one knows the right answer, no one knows precisely what will happen, no one can produce the desired future, on demand.
Some people are better at guessing than others, but not by much.
The people who are supposed to know rejected Harry Potter, Tracy Chapman and the Beatles. The people who are supposed to know sell stocks just before they go up, and give us rules of thumb that don't pan out.
If you mistakenly believe that there's someone who knows, you're likely to decide that whoever that person it is, it's not you.
And if it's not you, what a great reason to hesitate.
In fact, the gap isn't between the people who know and those that don't. It's between the people who show up with their best work, and those that hold back.
