Tag: capitalism

Power Dynamics

As I stared at my phone’s home screen, frustration washed over my face.

The neat grid of app icons I’d perused just hours earlier was now an imperceptible mess.

I had updated the phone’s operating system overnight. And the new OS seemed to have put all the app icons in dark mode.

The white space on each app tile was now a dark gray. And the app icons were now a faded array of colors. This made the apps for Ford, AT&T, Venmo, Garmin and The Weather Channel appear interchangeable.

This was a first world problem of the highest order. But it was still a problem.

Indeed, I felt as lost navigating the screen at 6 AM as I had at 1 AM, when I’d stumbled to the kitchen for a glass of water. I knew the general direction of where I was headed, but getting there required a lot of squinting and some tentative movements.

This had to stop.

I turned to the phone settings screen and tried to revert the darkened icons. But this turned off dark mode entirely — making all the apps on my phone blindingly bright and draining the phone’s battery in the process. I rolled back that change quickly.

I thought about complaining to Apple, who was behind this phone update. Hey, maybe don’t tether dark mode to the app icons, or at least let us opt out of that view.

But I knew better.

This was Apple, after all. The company which once had Think Differently as it’s tagline. The poster child of the closed ecosystem.

Apple wasn’t going to make it easy for me to file a consumer complaint. And even if I persisted, they weren’t likely to take that complaint into account.

The power dynamics were not in my favor.

If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.

Such were the musings of Henry Ford. While it’s uncertain if he said these words verbatim, there’s no doubt that he thought along these lines.

Ford came of age in the first era of capitalism. Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations had been published in 1776, and it placed market dynamics front and center.

Without demand, Smith stated, there would be no impetus to create goods. And without those goods to sell, there would be no commerce.

Smith called the combination of these forces The Invisible Hand. And the term soon became ubiquitous.

The United States had also come to be in 1776. And as it established its economy, it deferred heavily to the power of consumer demand.

There was a heavy focus on producing items that the populace had expressed a need for. And on bringing those items to market at a fair price.

It was The Invisible Hand in action.

Innovation had trickled into the fold over the ensuing decades. But such efforts mostly focused on efficiency of production, or the quality of finished materials.

The machines in east coast textile mills helped turn more cotton, silk, or wool into clothing each day. The steel from Andrew Carnegie’s foundries helped build taller buildings and sturdier bridges.

The transportation needs of the people wearing that clothing and crossing those bridges to get from building to building? Those were accounted for by horses, steamships and railroads.

Those were the methods consumers used. As such, those would remain the areas of focus for businesses in the market.

Until Henry Ford turned the whole system on its head.

Ford had a grand vision for the automobile. The motorized wagon had cropped up in Europe, and it had recently found its way to America. Still, it was mostly a novelty for the rich, with no sign of widespread demand.

Ignoring these headwinds, Ford set out to create a reliable vehicle – the Model T. Then he rolled out new production techniques to assemble that vehicle at scale. He offered the vehicle at an appealing price point. All while unleashing messaging sure to spur interest.

Ford’s efforts ushered in the age of the automobile. Horse-drawn travel faded away. Suburbs became viable. The road trip became a thing.

And the second era of capitalism found its spark.

By succeeding with something the market hadn’t asked for, Henry Ford had usurped control.

No longer were consumers pulling the strings. Ford was the one who knew best what was needed. And he ran his company accordingly.

Consumers didn’t always like this, and some did voice their complaints. But as the automobile fast became ubiquitous, those complaints mostly fell on deaf ears.

The power dynamics was not in their favor.

Roughly a century after the Ford Model T hit the market, Steve Jobs took the stage at an Apple keynote. Partway through his presentation, he unveiled the iPhone.

Apple’s first smartphone didn’t come out of left field the way Ford’s automobile had. Consumers had already been using mobile phones for some time. And some of those phone models had email and text messaging capabilities.

But Jobs paid little attention to what consumers had expressed demand for. Instead, he spurred Apple to create something entirely novel.

The result was a pocket-sized supercomputer. One that embedded messaging and phone calls into the touchscreen. And one that allowed for additional functions through programs called phone apps.

Apple didn’t make the iPhone as affordable as Ford had made the Model T. And it took time for consumers to flock to the device.

But once they did, they ended up giving more than their money to the tech behemoth. They handed over leverage as well.

Indeed, the iPhone ended up transforming the way many went about their everyday lives, from accessing entertainment to paying bills to ordering food. Phone apps helped re-imagine these processes.

Many of these apps were built and managed by third parties. But Apple still controlled access to them through a proprietary App Store found on each iPhone.

Third party programs would have to confirm to Apple’s standards to remain in the App Store. Consumer demands carried little weight. What Apple wanted, Apple got.

The same held true for the iPhone’s underlying software. Apple could redesign it at will – by, say, making all app icons appear in dark mode – and then deploy the update to all phone users. The consumer had no say in the matter.

The power dynamics were not in their favor.

A day after the darkened phone icons wrecked my morning, I got a notification.

Check out the guide to your new operating system.

I scrolled through the tutorial, learning how to style text messages and customize my lock screen.

Suddenly, there it was. A tip for customizing my app icons on the phone’s home screen.

I followed the instructions. The process was anything but intuitive, but I got my icons to appear as before.

As I stared at my phone, I felt a mix of emotions.

I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to quint at my phone anymore to open the right app. But I was annoyed that it took a dose of fortune to get back something that never should have been taken from me.

I feel this way all too often in life. And I’m certain that many others do as well.

Our leverage has been taken from us in the name of innovation. And we’re forced to jump through hoops for the privilege of being strong-armed.

It’s a pernicious cycle. But it doesn’t have to be a self-fulfilling one.

We can demand more from those we buy from. We can buoy alternatives to send a message. And we can model behavior that shows more equitable power dynamics between buyer and seller.

None of this will be easy. And some of it might demand some sacrifice.

But it will prove worthwhile.

Power dynamics have gotten out of hand. It’s time to flip the script.

The Safety Net Vice

I was starving.

All around me, options abounded to quell my hunger. Just about any cuisine I would possibly desire — all available within my hotel complex.

I started perusing menus and checking wait times. But I quickly realized there was a significant problem.

For I was in Las Vegas — the land of $50 steaks and $25 burgers. And those options wouldn’t fit within the contours of my Per Diem.

For those uninitiated with business travel, the Per Diem is a daily flat rate for meals. It’s set by the United States government but paid out by companies to their employees.

The Per Diem is meant to level the playing field. It aims to set a benchmark for how much companies should expect to reimburse.

Normally, the Per Diem is a relatively fair proxy for meal costs. Maybe not a one-to-one match. But at least in the ballpark.

Yet, this was not the case in Las Vegas.

And so, I was left to determine the value of my starvation. Was it worth paying a bunch of my own money for the privilege of my nourishment? Or should I go without, in hopes of being made whole financially?

I chose the second option.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

This advice is practically gospel. For it’s the truth.

I experienced this truth firsthand during my misadventures in the desert. Unsatiated hunger has a strange way of driving home hard lessons.

But the no free lunch principle goes much deeper than my own foibles. It strikes at the heart of the Per Diem system itself.

Yes, it’s hard to find anyone who’s truly a fan of the Per Diem as it exists today. Many feel that it should be increased, or that companies should cover expenses on top of the set limits.

Such sentiments are understandable. Who wouldn’t want to avoid the mental gymnastics I went through in Las Vegas?

But this desire for a kinder Per Diem system misinterprets its purpose.

After all, the Per Diem is not a government handout. And even if it were, we would pay into that handout in the form of hefty taxes.

By contrast, the Per Diem is motivational tool. It’s something that incentivizes us to take our work on the road — and incur related costs — by recouping some of that spending.

The Per Diem isn’t designed to help us live high on the hog. It’s meant to help us work with what we’ve got.

But in doing so, it opens a whole other can of worms.

Many Texans know the legend of Judge Roy Bean.

The 19th century saloon keeper also served as the Justice of the Peace in Val Verde County. He branded himself as The Only Law West of the Pecos [River], often adjudicating from his saloon.

Val Verde County was part of the Texas frontier back then. And the law in that part of the world was open to some degree of interpretation. Judge Roy Bean espoused his flavor of it, and his work became Wild West legend.

Judge Roy Bean is long gone. And so is the world he lived in.

Indeed, modern-day Texas is governed by a series of uniform laws. Legislative codes that look the same in Mentone (population 22) as they do in Houston (population 2.3 million).

And perhaps the most notorious of these laws are the state’s liquor regulations.

For those uninitiated, Texans can only buy packaged hard liquor — such as bourbon or rum — from liquor stores. Those liquor stores must remain closed on Sundays. And on all other days, they cannot open earlier than 10 AM or close after 9 PM.

Liquor stores could keep even shorter hours, of course. But in all my years traversing the Lone Star State, I’ve yet to find one that wasn’t open from 10 to 9, Monday to Saturday.

There are some valid reasons for this conformity.

You see, operating a liquor store is challenging in Texas. Many counties are dry, banning packaged alcohol outright. Even in wet counties, some cities will ban liquor sales, but allow stores to sell beer and wine.

After navigating this labyrinth just to open their doors, liquor store proprietors generally yearn to keep them open as much as possible. And if they don’t, they’re wary of competitors. Competitors who could take a bite from their customer share if they opened late or closed early.

In essence, Texas’ liquor sales laws have put proprietors in a bind. They don’t directly mandate a 10 AM to 9 PM schedule, six days a week. But they make it nearly impossible to operate any other way.

This principle can be found in countless other corners of our society.

Sales tax rates tend to stay in a basic range from town to town and state to state. Banks generally refuse to guarantee anything above the $250,000 limit covered by the Federal Deposit Insurance Commission. And of course, companies tend to stay within the guidelines of the Per Diem.

By setting an artificial floor in our capitalistic system, the U.S. government has also lowered the ceiling. Any chance at variety is crushed, leaving us all with immobile, undesirable options.

It’s a phenomenon I call The Safety Net Vice.

The Safety Net Vice might seem like a force of nature. But we’re not powerless against it.

How can this be? Well, let’s consider the factors.

On one side, there is legislative action of some kind. Tax codes, deposit guarantees, and Per Diem guidelines are all influenced by government entities.

We have few means to influence this factor. While we do vote our representatives into office, we have little impact on what they will do once they’re in place.

Indeed, it’s the other side of the equation that is key. The demands of the free market impact our behavior, all too often giving that legislation its vice grip.

This is the area where we can drive change. By tweaking the ways we spend our money, we can flip economic patterns on their heads. The status quo will no longer be tenable, and institutions will have an impetus to offer guarantees above safety net levels.

The road to this outcome is sure to be long and arduous. But the longer we delay the journey, the more treacherous it gets.

So, let’s break free of the Safety Net Vice. Let’s stop starving ourselves in the desert. And let’s seek out a path that works better for everyone.

The time is now.

Accepting The Blame

It’s our fault.

The way the world treats us. The opportunities are given and taken from us. The narrative that we see in the world around us.

It all comes back to us.

It’s tempting to blame others for our misfortunes. To blame our bosses for not giving us the raises we feel we deserve. To blame corporate executives for escalating prices on the services we rely upon.

It’s tempting to blame others for exposing us to risk. To blame self-interested investors for hitching our collective destiny to the uneasy wagon of the stock market. To blame banks for taking on bad debt risk and tanking our economy.

And it’s tempting to blame others for leaving a bad taste in our mouths. To blame Mark Zuckerberg for giving away our data to bad actors. Or the media for providing us story after story of blood and guts, deceit and divisiveness.

But it all comes back to us.

We’re responsible.

You see, our capitalist society is built upon more than the principle of free enterprise. It’s built in our image.

Yes, a system built on the tenets of supply and demand reflects our desires. Oftentimes, it reflects the best aspects of humanity. But other times, it speaks to the darkest parts of our nature.

Namely, our overindulgent, win-at-all-costs tendencies.

These flaws lie within all of us, regardless of character. While some of us outwardly display them more than others, they’re certainly omnipresent.

One look at the capitalist structure proves that.

The pursuit of the almighty dollar owns all in this society. The exchange of money plays a fundamental role in our everyday lives.

On a basic level, we trade money for the services needed to survive. That’s a value exchange that benefits both sides of the transaction.

But we’re not okay with staying at that basic level. We want to live into The American Dream.

We want the bigger house, the nicer car, the flashier amenities. We want more, more, more — regardless of the collateral damage that comes with it.

This setup speaks to overindulgence. To a game with winners and losers that continually requires us to get an edge.

The corporate world reflects these values we espouse.

It has to.

Companies come into existence to satisfy our needs. Our overindulgence keeps them alive and thriving – as it provides fledgling companies an abundance demand to serve.

All until companies reach critical mass, and become mature. At that point, the goal becomes to keep that edge. To grow that demand even further, in order to satisfy their investors and keep their competitors at bay. Just as with our individual pursuits, there can never be enough.

Humanity inevitably gets lost in this process. Companies prioritize profits over people. Customers become commodities and employees become expendable.

It’s easy to vilify faceless corporations or their executives for being heartless, greedy and cruel when we feel the sting of these decisions. But it’s far more likely that the real villain is in staring back at us in the mirror.

We are the engine that drives business. Our needs, wants and desires impact the outcomes we see.

We have the voice and power to stem the tide, to turn things in a brighter, less ugly direction.

But we must accept the blame.

We must let go of the narrative that we are good and the world is evil.

We must recognize that the flaws we have within us impact the results we see without.

And we must work to exhibit restraint. To resist overindulging or winning at the expense of others.

No more scapegoats.

The key to a brighter, warmer kinder world lies within.

Let’s seek it out.

Trust the System

Who can we trust?

This is a fundamental question in life. One that permeates from the board room to the dining room.

Trust is perhaps the most critical element for productive relationships. Yet, it’s both as difficult to obtain and as easy to destroy as fine china. And when trust is broken, it’s as if the knife’s being twisted in our back.

So, we do what we can to protect ourselves from this outcome. When encountering new people, we toggle our trust switch to Off by default. We indicate trust must first be earned, and then be kept.

This indication runs both ways. It requires that we prove our worth to others. And that others prove their worth to us.

We implicitly understand this construct on an individual level. But what about on a wider scale? Can we implicitly trust the systems and constructs our society has built?

Seth Godin says no.

The marketing guru recently penned an article decrying unbridled capitalism. Godin claimed that capitalist utopias can’t exist because people can’t be trusted. That without regulation, the free market system will fail. And that it will fail because it’s human nature for those with unfettered power to unethically exploit those without it.

I’m a huge fan of Seth Godin. I read his blog voraciously and I take his sage advice to heart. I even model my Words of the West articles after his.

But I must admit that Seth is wrong in this instance.

Why? Because he directly implies that people can’t be trustworthy. That without someone watching over our shoulders, our natural instinct is to hurt others.

I find that description upsetting. In part because it kowtows to the wave of divisiveness engulfing our society. And in part because it indicates that we have no free will.

You see, it is true that without anyone lording over a capitalist society, some bad apples would do all they could to exploit others. Heck, these bad actors would probably do this without any remorse.

But would all of us do this by default? No flipping way!

Most of us do have an intact moral compass. We know where True North is, and we are committed to following it.

We learn about right and wrong early in life. And we learn about the fragility of trust through the connections we build with others as we mature.

These principles can help us stay ethical, even when no one’s watching. After all, we recognize that the Golden Rule is still in effect.

To dismiss this behavior as a byproduct of regulation is just plain wrong. It completely discounts the goodness inherent within us.

With that said, here’s what I believe:

I believe the system deserves our trust.

I believe humanity deserves the benefit of the doubt.

And I believe that a free market system is more beneficial than one saddled by regulations.

Most of all, I believe that we need to trust in something in order to trust in each other. So why not trust in a system our own society has built? One that speaks to the inherent goodness within us.

The system works. Trust it.

Keeping The Balance

Not long ago, I denounced our society’s excessive reliance on money as a determining factor for all that we do. I’ve also recently outlined the ramifications of upsetting the apple cart.

So what gives?

In truth, neither have to.

We can gradually improve the system we have without causing undue strife. We all stand to gain from this track — our socioeconomic model moves closer to ideal without us sacrificing our identity.

Consider what some prospective leaders of this nation are proposing — that we all reap the benefits of something others pay for. Others could be foreign nations or, more troublingly, our own financial elites. In our money-driven society, many might consider this a dream come true — we can reap the benefits of healthcare, education, housing and more at the expense of those who stash their money away in offshore bank accounts. The recent revelations of the measures the global rich take to keep that money from being taxed has added the fuel of righteousness to these arguments.

In light of all this, many are supporting the idea of requiring the rich to cede even more of their wealth to fund services for the less affluent, to funnel more money towards the financial mean. In reality, this solution would bring unintended consequences.

While it’s true that a surplus of money leads to all the ugly behavior wealth preservation brings —selfishness, egotistical behavior — the possibility of accruing wealth in our society is a powerful incentive. The opportunity to provide ourselves and our loved ones a better life is something that drives us to give our 100% professionally. If we were to compress everyone to the financial mean, to remove the carrot of potential wealth by redistributing those earnings among the masses, there would be no stick driving us to give our all — as we’d end up at the same point no matter how much effort we put into our vocations.

This is why communism and socialism don’t work for our society. In those models, people have very little control over their destiny; no matter what they do, the government has a stranglehold on what they get and pay for. There is little incentive to grow professionally, to stay engaged, to avoid the debilitating effects of laziness.

Capitalism, ostensibly, gives us equal opportunity to determine our own fate. While the side effects are notable — a sizable income gap, greed, aggressive behavior and class divides — it does provide us with the inspiration to innovate, grow and expand our potential. It’s key for us not to attack this system, but instead to fix the inefficiencies that deny so many that equal opportunity they should be provided. Furthermore, we each have a responsibility to both act ethically and keep our financial status separate from our obligation to contribute to the communities we reside in.

With some small improvements — many from within our realm of personal responsibility —  we can help make the system more efficient, and our society better from top to bottom. All while keeping the balance.