If we create something with purpose, we’ve designed it. It’s not an accident. An axe handle is designed, and so is a symphony.
Some things, though are designy. The designer’s fingerprints are all over it. The typefaces, knurled edges, needless heat sinks and homage to Dieter Rams are there for anyone who cares to look. Why use a word when a vague picture or two is available?
Occasionally (but not always), items are well-designed. Ironically, this happens when we stop noticing the design and simply use it. Software or cookware, menus or conferences–they are well designed when they accomplish their purpose and create the outcomes we were hoping for.
The best way a client can tell if a design is coherent is for the designer to announce who it’s for, what it’s for and what the constraints are.
The question is: How will we know if it is a successful design? An honest answer to all three questions will almost aways fix the design long before it ships.
“I created this to win an award,” or “I did it this way to get buzz online which will spread the word,” are both honest answers, though they might not be why we hired you.
Once we know who and what it’s for, we can give you useful feedback and work together on our shared goals.
Just because it’s useful, needed or worthwhile doesn’t mean it’s a good business.
E-bikes are transforming cities and offering mobility to those who previously couldn’t afford it.
But they’re a commodity, and it’s difficult to make a significant profit producing them.
A good business meets a demand, but it also has scarcity, network effects and market insulation.
[Unrelated from yesterday… a lovely post from my publisher, along with a simple online raffle and, coincidentally, This is Strategy on the Kindle for four bucks for the next day or two.]
Give or take. It’s hard to get the exact count through the sands of time. But it’s at least 10,000 blog posts as of today.
That’s 25 years, once or twice a day.
Back of the envelope, that’s about 2 billion blog post views.
I’ve written and edited every post myself, hence the typos. 3,000,000 words so far.
I’m certain I couldn’t have done it all at once, and that I probably would have hesitated to sign up for a streak like this.
The thing is, most of all, I’m grateful.
I’d write this blog even if no one read it, but the fact that you do, that you subscribe to it and share it, that’s my fuel.
When someone uses my work to teach others or to make something better, the work has achieved its purpose. If you didn’t do your work, there’d be no point to mine.
Thank you.
(The 5,000th post was more than ten years ago. Lots of links and history there if you’re interested.)
A $20 dose of penicillin was priceless a century ago.
The five cents (a nickel!) we spend to light our home might have been the sort of thing we needed to trade an hour of labor for a few generations ago.
The ability to press a button and talk to anyone, by video, anywhere on the planet–it wasn’t even discussed until recently, and now it’s essentially free.
“Compared to what?” is a powerful question. Comparing the miracles of right now to what our parents expected is a useful way to find context and avoid ennui.
It’s easy to get hooked on the miracle of the moment, and to imagine that the next miracle must be even more amazing. And at the same time, we can take a hard look at the real problems people face and decide that no miracle is enough.
But wonder is a choice, and we can find it if we look for it.
Something you are focused on and passionate about. You might read the journals, develop your skills, collect, connect with others in the field, and commit to getting better at it…
Time spent on a hobby feels like time well spent. Obstacles and setbacks aren’t a tragedy, they’re simply part of journey, the things that make it interesting.
It’s possible to bring that mindset to work. Not all the time, certainly, but often. And when we do, it turns out that work gets more productive and even more fun.
When someone makes an obvious mistake, it’s tempting to label them with a term that’s dismissive or even hurtful. A label is permanent, a noun, a way to sort and divide.
But of course, others can say precisely the same thing about us when we were uninformed, selfish or in a hurry.
If it’s permanent, then it’s all of us.
Perhaps instead of, “you are a mistake,” it might be more accurate to say, “you made a mistake.”
Starting from the place that we’re all imperfect makes it easy to find empathy, for others and ourselves.
Anthropologist Gregory Bateson highlighted that often, culture is based on oppositional behavior.
And it can spiral.
They say “up” and the easy thing is to say “down.”
Literally, “the creation of division.”
Your competitor launches a product and you work to undermine it with a different approach. Find small gaps and amplify them.
Schismogenesis is based on perceptions of scarcity, and is amplified by the simplicity of not having to think very hard about our next step. A little gap turns into a large one, which becomes our identity.
It’s really useful for teenagers, but it might be worth outgrowing.
The narcissism of small differences, at a tribal level.
The alternative to schismogenesis is the hard work of creating a movement. Showing up to do work that matters for people who care. When we know where we are going, we don’t have to focus on what others are doing to figure out what we should do next.
It pays to ask: “What kind of people are we?” instead of letting our opponents decide for us.
Along the way, we’ve been pushed to load our decisions with a need for certainty. It’s easier, it seems, to not try than it is to fail.
But the question, “is it worth trying?” unlocks possibility.
A surgeon in the middle of an operation should probably not experiment with an untested technique. But a writer, a leader or a musician can make that question part of their craft.
First, there needs to be rising societal pressure to get ahead, cut the line and find a win.
Second, there needs to be people willing to set aside their ethical principles to take advantage of others in their community.
And third, we need to be lulled into a state of unjustified credulity, eager to believe that seeds might be magical or that motion might be perpetual.
While all three of these conditions are present throughout time, they go in cycles.
And we’re having one right now.
We’re far too tolerant of ridiculous promises, particularly around tech, money and leadership. And instead of quickly learning to become a bit more skeptical, we get caught in a cycle of letting the con man (person, actually) off the hook.
Inevitably, when it ends badly, we overreact and become too risk averse, costing us nearly as much with our skepticism.
If someone tells you that they forgot to put the word ‘gullible’ in the new edition of the dictionary, don’t dismiss them out of hand, but yes, check first.
April 1, 2025
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