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Think of the Warehouses

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

In one of those online discussions I wish I kept a link to, someone posed a comment along the lines of “Imagine how many warehouses we’d need to store the data we have if we didn’t have computers?” For a moment I thought that “yes, that’d take a lot of space” followed by me getting a lot more thoughtful.

I love a good exercise of “what if we didn’t have X/did X” even if it means contemplating the horror of a world without video games. So let’s imagine all the data we collect by computer today and if we had to store it and move it physically – with the occasional phone call to get someone to dig around in a box.

Think about all the data you have to fill out on the job and in your life, all the forms and orders and everything else. Imagine it if you had to do it on paper, file it store it, mail it. Quite a lot isn’t it? Imagine the nonexistent warehouses your employer and government would need.

Now, ask yourself why we collect all of that data, because you know what, I bet we don’t need it.

How many fields and forms do you fill out because the software is collecting data based on some default setting? Pay a bunch of money to a SaaS vendor, flip on all the settings, and go. There has to be a reason for all those fields, right? Why assume that? We’ve made it easy to collect data for no good reason or by accident.

Now imagine if all that unneeded data needed warehouses

In fact, on that subject, how much software and setup collects data “just in case” or “because someone asked?” Someone in a department that’s part of another department figured they might need the data. Someone else figured you add that extra field so they don’t get in trouble. Software gives us an amazing ability to create more work for ourselves fast.

More data. The imaginary warehouses get larger.

Then with all of this data we’re collecting that we don’t need and don’t want (and probably get wrong) there are going to be horrible errors. We’re going to have to hunt for information we forgot we didn’t need anyway. We’re going to loose data because we filled out that other form we didn’t need. That just generates more data to track down the errors in our data.

We’d need warehouses to store data about errors in our warehouses.

All of those above complaints/rants/notes also make it much harder to collect and store the actual data we need. We can’t even use the warehouses we have and they’re imaginary.

The purpose of this extended, self-indulgent metaphorical walk is to illustrate painfully a truth we’re all low-key aware of. We collect too much damn data we don’t need and it makes things worse. It’s so easy to get information, put in a web field, or scan a document that we rarely stop to ask if we need any of it or if it does any good.

Thinking about computing systems and asking “what if we had to store this physically” is a great way to find out how much we care.

I honestly wished such a metaphorical exercise wasn’t so useful – this is me, I like technology. We should be asking if we need data, if it’s hard to collect it, how much risks we’re creating by collecting all of this.

But if a physical example is needed, as I think it is these days, so be it.

Steven Savage

We’re Not Serious

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Ted Giola wrote a fascinating article asking if the US is in a crisis of seriousness. I found this relevant as it codified my feelings about many things the last year or two, as well as the election. As I often warn, this column’s inspirations may not be who you think, but it’s easy to think it’s about THEM. So assume this post is about everyone including you and me.

The article is worth a read, so much so that I’ll just summarize it that ye, the US and to an extent the world is in a crisis of seriousness. We’re performative, we’re working on outrage, our culture is about special effects and marketing, but none of it is serious. Everything is a business, marketing, or frivolous – and oft mass-marketed (I’d argue the latter somewhat). Even when we attempt to be serious there’s nothing too serious about it as we churn out memes and pointless protest and anything but real stuff that feels real and is real.

If we can even recognize reality anymore.

This struck me as for the last year or two I’ve been feeling a decreased lack of interest in many things. It wasn’t depression as I had no sign of that. I was enthused about things, new things, in ways I hadn’t experienced before or in decades. But so much felt empty or pointless, disconnected.

New anime, so what. Some films that looked cool, but . . . eh. Same old same old. No there there. Unserious.

Now I look at this idea that so much of life is performative, unseriousness, spectacle (dare I say, a Society of the Spectacle) that I realize how much I don’t care. I’m bogged down in ads I didn’t want, on websites I don’t like anymore if I ever did, and while I can find great, truly real things on YouTube or Roku, a lot, and I mean a lot is performative shallowness.

And politics? Well I couldn’t tell eighty percent of that from my Youtube or Podcast surfing, or the memes that came across facebook, or anything else. So much is InstaXTubeBook posts (made worse with AI), so much is performing. It’s no wonder people embrace “authentic” even if most of the time they don’t know what authenticity is anymore.

But it wasn’t just this performative, unseriousness element. I realized what made this worse than annoying is that our Unseriousness in the US (and elsewhere) is paired with something worse. Something that together with this unseriousness puts us in pretty deep trouble.

I’ve written here – as many have written elsewhere – about how our economies and governments actually don’t do what we need. A lot of systems have gone stark raving mad, because people focus on things not related to the job they say they’re going to do. You can become rich laying off most of your company and juicing stocks even though your company doesn’t do the job it says it does. Politicians cut all sorts of insane ads to get into office to deliver nothing – its a joke how many get caught endorsing the results of a bill they performatively rejected.

We have economic and political systems where people benefit from not actually doing what they say they’re going to do. We’ve built A System that smart, or clever, or lucky people can manipulate for fame and power, but it has nothing to do with what we say it does. You can get rich by not doing anything useful – and are probably destructive – and be hailed a “leader” or a “genius.”

The Economy and Politics are complex systems, built over decades and centuries, and some people learned how to push the buttons over and over so money pops out.

Now combine the Unserious and Performative with Gaming The System and you get an extremely dangerous and toxic blend. How many so called “leaders” or “experts” are just people putting on an act and who found where the Money Button is? They don’t do anything productive or useful – in fact they’re destructive – but they learned to put on an oft-buffoonish act and how to get that bread.

It reminds me of a person grousing about politics saying, roughly, “at least sometimes kings had to lead a battle.” They weren’t royalist at all, but were making a similar point that useful should be important.

That’s where I find myself, looking at my disgust and dissatisfaction over the last few years, Giola helped me see it. It’s the lack of seriousness and the manipulation of the system, entirely disconnected from anything real. We’ve built a stupidly complex world we didn’t need, didn’t really want, and boy did some idiots get rich off of it.

I said at the start this should be taken as being about you and me first, before we talk The Others. I can honestly say the last year or so I’ve looked back at myself and seen how much I’ve done that was Unserious in the bad way. Yes it got me here, but I can also see how much time and resources and even relationships I wasted not being properly serious.

At least I have the self awareness, but as we’ve been careening around the last few decades, I don’t think a lot of people “in charge” do.

(By the way, don’t expect this to be the last column on the subject. Like “The Unaccountability Machine” this one hit HARD.)

Steven Savage

Empty Content

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I hear about “Content” constantly, and I’ve grown tired of it.  People need Content for their YouTube channel, to keep an audience, fill books, etc.  I finally realized why it gets up my nose – because the focus on Content doesn’t consider meaning.

Too often, when people talk about Content, it’s about needing to have it for some reason.  The channel has to have Content for the algorithm!  The blog needs Content to keep people’s attention.  The Podcast needs Content because you’re on a schedule and people expect it.  The existence of Content matters more than what the Content is.

When we speak of Content, we mean writing, discussions, videos, etc.  We’re talking about something that is meaningful or should be.  It may be a good chuckle or a life-changing revelation, but Content is about something supposedly that has value in itself.

The demand for Content makes our creations secondary to mathematical formulae and marketing calculations.  Content is just something we use to fill a space, the packing peanuts of the soul.  The meaning of that Content is secondary to just having something to pour into a container.

That’s what irritated me about the constant chats about Content – the value, the importance of the creative work wasn’t relevant.  You could boost the YouTube algorithm with a picture of you shirtless and silently reading Terry Pratchett or a detailed guide to creating resumes, and the result might be the same.  The idea of Content these days flattens the value and meaning of creation itself.

This situation makes it harder to become better at what you do.  When your critical goal is creating Content, then shoveling works out the door takes priority over making better works.  It’s all attention or meeting a wordcount, or whatever first, the work is secondary.

There’s a soullessness to it all and I can now put words to it.

For me, I think I’m going to think over what I make and why a little more.  I can see where I’ve fallen into the Content trap and where I’ve sought depth.  I also see where I may get distracted by “shiny Content” and not ask if it’s something I care about.

But for now, when I cringe at yet another discussion of Content I’ll know why.

Steven Savage