How badly do you want to know all the details?
The inner workings of a process, a product, an organization, or anything else you might cross paths with in life.
This information can be valuable. But buyer beware.
You might get more than you bargained for.
In 1906, Upton Sinclair’s novel The Jungle shook America to the core.
The book was an inside look at the meatpacking industry. Sinclair, a muckraking journalist, spent several months working undercover in meatpacking plants as he gathered material for the book. And readers were not ready for his no-holds-barred expose of what life was really like behind the curtain.
The Jungle detailed oppressive working conditions and unsanitary health practices in meatpacking plants. As Americans read the book, they suddenly found their steaks, pork chops and Bratwursts to be far less appetizing.
It turned out, learning how the sausage gets made was a bit too much information. Uproar over the book eventually led to codified employment protections and food handling procedures. But the stain it left on our consciousness was permanent.
The Jungle changed the way we look at the details. And it sparked an interest not only in knowing the details of a process, but also in ensuring they’re up to par with our expectations.
That’s why the book is still talked about, more than 100 years later.
Times have changed, but the message remains the same.
Today, we’re obsessed with how the sausage gets made. We crave transparency throughout the supply chain. No longer is ignorance bliss.
We now demand control over every step of the process. And we demand accountability, by threatening to turn elsewhere if even a single link in the chain doesn’t meet our standards.
This phenomenon isn’t restricted to the companies we buy from, the governments we vote for or the entertainment options we patronize. It extends to our own interactions as well.
In the age of social media, we can learn all we can about everyone we know, and everyone we don’t. We soak this information up like a sponge. And use it to associate, or disassociate, with others.
The point is clear: Details matter. The more transparent and clean those details are, the more likely we’ll support the person, product or organization behind them.
We’ve reshaped societal behavior with this principle. But are we demanding too much?
Are we headed to a point of no return?
You see, our requirements for transparent details comes at a premium. A cleaner, more ethical process doesn’t come cheap.
Yet, we can’t stomach paying more for the convenience. In money, trust or social capital.
We’re hard-wired to search for the discounts. To get the most bang for our buck.
This chasm between what we demand and what we’re willing to give up for it is problematic. It leads providers to get down and dirty to meet our expectations. But once we find out about these tactics, we shame the offending providers and move to greener, cleaner pastures.
It’s a brutal cycle. And one that’s entirely unsustainable.
So, where do we go from here?
Do we dare take accountability for our own skewed expectations? Do we dare devote more time, money or energy to people and entities that go the extra mile for quality?
It’s unlikely. The Why pay more? question is too deeply embedded in our consciousness.
With that in mind, maybe it’s better if we don’t know how the sausage is made. If we focus more attention on the end result, instead of scrutinizing the intermediate points to no end.
Obviously, we’d still need to be aware of some details — particularly as they pertain to health and safety. But otherwise, peering behind the curtain might do us more harm than good.
Whichever way we turn, one thing is clear. Transparency comes with a cost.
If we aim to know all the details, we best prepare to get down and dirty.