Affect: noun (a-fekt): a set of observable manifestations of a subjectively experienced emotion.
Benjamin Franklin popularized the phrase “time is money” circa 1748 in his essay “Advice to a Young Tradesman.” Never since have so few words of advice been accepted so wholeheartedly, while simultaneously being so pervasively destructive. You see, Ben embodied what once passed as the model of what it meant to be a man. He was a “Renaissance man.” But in an ironic twist of fate, his advice murdered the archetype.
As testimony to Mr. Franklin’s advice, speed has become virtually synonymous with business success. UPS moves “at the speed of business.” Mark Zuckerberg thinks we should “move fast and break things” because “unless you are breaking stuff, you are not moving fast enough.” Marc Benioff goes so far as to conflate the terms, stating “Speed is the currency of business.” Can there be any doubt that since Franklin’s time the world has just continued to move faster, and faster, and faster?
To compensate for the demands associated with maintaining such blistering speed, society has responded by delegating knowledge more diffusely. Meaning, of course, each of us knows our role more intimately, while simultaneously knowing less about the world writ large. And while the business community acts as if speed exists in a vacuum, in reality, speed invariably exists in relation to mass. Thus, as applied to society, the “turning the ship” metaphor is incomplete and must be extended. We’re not only a massive ship traveling at tremendous speed, but one powered by eight billion parts, each so singularly focused on the specialized task at hand that no single part has the ability to comprehend the danger posed by the rocks just off the bow. The ship is without a captain.
The tragedy in this is that extremely smart people abound today. What appears to be lacking is leadership born of wisdom. We can always refer to specialists as smart, intelligent, or knowledgable. But how often do we refer to them as possessing wisdom? And, do we necessarily equate specialists with good leadership? Sometimes, I suppose. However, we always seem to equate good leadership with wisdom.
So where does the wisdom that guides good leadership come from? What do the great leaders of the past share that the specialists of today do not? It’s simple. They share a high concentration of knowledge in its disparate forms. For example, Franklin had a wide range of interests including natural sciences, literature, and politics. He was an inventor, civil activist, diplomat, author, and political theorist. Thomas Jefferson was many things, including an architect, author, lawyer, musician, botanist, inventor, philosopher, political theorist, and naturalist. And while Abraham Lincoln didn’t fit the lettered tradition associated with the Renaissance archetype, he certainly made up for it by being a remarkable autodidact in business, military affairs, law, and engineering. For example, he still holds the distinction of being the only U.S. president to receive a patent by designing a system for lifting riverboats off sandbars.
The never-ending quest for speed through specialization appears to have come at a steep cost. We haven’t changed the way each one of us thinks about ourselves individually. Our egos still tell us all that we’re all of above average intelligence. However, we have drastically changed the way we educate ourselves by emphasizing, to an absurd degree, the value we place upon commodifying ourselves to be more marketable. Who has time to learn something that isn’t marketable? We’ve STEM’ed ourselves stupid.
Psychologists talk about the Dunning-Kruger effect. If we’re unaware of what we don’t know to such a degree that we can’t conceive of somebody knowing more about it, we tend to think we’re as knowledgable about the subject as those who actually do know the subject inside out; witness Donald Trump. As such, I think we need a new term to describe what society is suffering due to our dogmatic adherence to Franklin’s “time is money” maxim. Perhaps, the societal malaise can be summed up as mass suffering from the Dunning-Kruger effect.