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Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Death Is Our Missing Technology

We are a culture surrounded by losses we haven’t yet processed. Things that are kind of dead but we won’t let them die completely.

So much so that we’ve had to create a whole new raft of words – like ghosting, breadcrumbing, blanding, airspaces, liminal spaces, requels and nostalgia bait – to hold what we refuse to bury. 

I’ve probably bought Sasha Sagan’s book For Small Creatures Such As We at least 20 times in my life for other people. It deals with the concept of endings and death rituals in a way that makes sense of the world and human behavior.

She tells us, “We pretend these rituals are for our dead, but they are for the living, for us.”

Her book has stayed with me because, as a digital native, I could see how unequipped we are to properly, decidedly mark the time something ends or dies. It is so critical to mark that moment. The rhythm of life demands it. 

We cannot make new things when our spaces are cluttered with infinite half-dead brands, platforms, trends, jokes, technologies, ideas and memories that steal endless little fragments of our attention.

We’re weighed down by purgatorial ghosts both in the digital world and the physical one. And now with AI, the ghosts are multiplying. Synthetic content floods Pinterest and Twitter, trained on old material and endlessly recombined with what came before. Our deceased loved ones are reanimated via AI texting agents and holograms. The dead don’t die. They just loop and echo, or even worse, become a template for something else. 

That’s making it harder to imagine and create. When nothing is allowed to end, nothing is allowed to transform.

There are a lot of reasons floating out there as to why so much of culture is effectively undead. Some say it’s the algorithm. Others say its mass accessibility and the death of subcultures. Historians like Will Durant might have said, at least for the US, it’s a clear sign of an empire in decline. All of them are probably right. 

But I also know that if all of our physical and digital ghosts were properly laid to rest and we were left with only the living artifacts of our world, we would almost certainly be reborn. 

This is a time of zombie-like memories and generative content, and the most radical act right now might be learning how to let things die.

And when I say die, what I really mean is letting them permanently end. Intentionally and deliberately. 

(Un)Dead Internet

The dead internet theory posits that the majority of content on the internet has been fake for a long time. If that sounds hyperbolic, try carefully scrolling through Pinterest or Twitter. It might not seem so crazy after you see how hard it is to find a real image or voice.

The viral emotional support kangaroo, a video that perfectly blends highly charged emotions with low-res patina, is a good symbol of what’s haunting us. It might be better to call it the undead internet theory because what characterizes all of this AI content isn’t that it’s lifeless. It’s the pervading sense that something artificial is animating things that shouldn’t be alive. 

In 2021, Kaitlyn Tiffany wrote for the Atlantic that the dead internet theory is “patently ridiculous” but also that “dead-internet people kind of have a point,” as evidenced by the co-opted i hate texting tweet trend of the time. The same ideas and trends are regurgitated over and over, and it’s increasingly hard to find where something originated because we all keep blatantly stealing content from each other for engagement. We started copying ourselves way before AI started copying us. This was destined to happen.

Drew Austin perfectly describes how and why nothing ends:

“Closure is a thing of the past. One of the emergent qualities of the digital culture millennials shaped is that nothing ends any more. Wars and pandemics drag on; aging bands keep touring in a perpetual state of reunion rather than breaking up; politicians circle the drain into their eighties and nineties; bygone aesthetics and styles are forgotten and rediscovered in shorter and shorter cycles. We seem unable to fully metabolize experiences and move on, for better or worse; we suffer from cultural acid reflux.”

You may call some of it simple nostalgia, but nostalgia’s real risk is that we take a quirk of the human brain and then platform it. 

A 2022 replication of a long-standing study on musical nostalgia found that listeners’ preferences for new music consistently peak at around 17 years old. Our musical tastes are shaped most deeply at that age and get locked in on social. We live in a prison of our own making, and the soundtrack keeps us stuck in mid- to late-adolescence. 

We have entire unicorn companies that have been zombified, functionally dead but still incorporated. Beyond Meat, once valued at over $10B+ is now barely a mid-sized company at about $287 million.

WeWork ($47B → $750M), Vice Media ($5.7B → $350M), and Bird ($3.8B → $100M) are others on the list. All of them overvalued during their hypecycles, but I bet their PR and investor decks will tell you they’re still culturally relevant. We’ll probably never have a formal tombstone for these companies. 

Myspace isn’t dead but it’s not alive either. Clubhouse’s carcass continues to twitch. Tumblr is making a comeback, but is it? Or is that headline itself also just another sleepwalking piece of content?

Of the 1.1 billion websites that are on the internet right now, only about 17% are actually active. On Facebook, deceased people with ongoing profiles are expected to outnumber the living by 2070. If you count Mark Zuckerberg’s plan to unleash an army of undead AI personas, that tipping point could happen even sooner. 

In the digital world, we fail to bury our deceased, and the seemingly living aren’t really alive.

I’ve been tempted to believe that perhaps all of this will force people to live more in the real world. It’s reasonable (blindly optimistic?) to imagine that a lonely, empty, undead internet would gently push people into the physical and face-to-face realm.

But we have some interesting challenges there, too.

Empty Funerals

I’ve witnessed the passing of a loved one and it’s been my experience that without spiritual or ritual context, death does not present its own innate magic. Despite how badly you need that magic to exist when you stand at their bedside, it does not miraculously appear. You must create it. You have to give the messy, fleshy, corporeality of death your own meaning, so that they can die and you can move on.

The sandwich generation of millennials needs this meaning more than anyone else right now, because the immense stress of raising children while transitioning parents is a lot harder to bear when it doesn’t ladder up to some greater purpose or beauty. Without it, there is no finality. 

What’s puzzling is that we’re also abandoning our traditional end of life rituals at the same time. “Direct cremation”, where the body is cremated with no funeral ceremony or mourners present has soared. About 41% of all US funeral consumers in 2021 chose direct cremation with no formal service. Less than half of people want a funeral when they die, and it’s not always because they have alternative plans like a virtual wake or a living funeral. 

But I don’t see any deathtech companies successfully building the kinds of rituals we need at scale. There are about 1,000 deathtech startups out there right now, and while many of them are doing a great job of removing the administrative hell of managing a dying parent’s estate, there aren’t any standouts in the “marking the ending” category.

The best we get are AIs that let us text dead relatives or play with their holograms, which are quite the opposite of that. 

It’s hard to overstate the fact that we’re not letting our family members properly die. We’re not saying goodbye at the funeral and we’re not saying goodbye to their digitized afterlives.

What is it going to feel like in 5 years when you can easily text your dead grandparents… but you don’t? It’ll be like ghosting a ghost. 

At this point, ghosting could be our new national pastime. We ghost (and are ghosted by) both the deceased and the living. Three out of four people have been ghosted by romantic partners. We’re ghosted by friends from college, children who’ve gone no-contact, recruiters that stopped returning emails, neighbors that moved away (did you know the average person moves at least 11 times in their life?) or… dead relatives.  

These unresolved endings, or “open loops” really tax the brain. One study found that lacking closure leads to greater regret, more intense emotion, and more frequent, intrusive replays of the situation in our minds. When someone disappears without closure, our minds keep cycling through the what-ifs and it prolongs the pain. You would think we’d know better than to forego the endings that life offers up to us. We need them so badly.

Our avoidance of difficult endings, whether it’s ghosting instead of honest goodbyes, skipping funerals, or hyper-nostalgia, might spare short-term discomfort, but the research suggests it creates identity confusion in the long run. 

That’s because we build identity through endings and transitions, finishing one chapter to begin another. But in a culture without marked endings, people drift through infinite selves, never shedding, only layering. You’re still kind of who you were at 15, and 22, and 30 and 45.

There’s a reason why new gym memberships peak in January, why people deep clean their houses in the spring, and why midlife crises happen at 40. We make big changes at the beginning of new years, new decades, and new seasons because we cross a threshold of time. What we’ve lost with our inability to let things end is the sanctity and significance of new beginnings. 

We’re leaving so much value on the table because we’ve forgotten how important death is to renewal. 

And it’s critical we get used to endings right now, because everything around us is about to start dying a lot faster.

Do Not Resuscitate 

Any ideas we had about work and career, ideas of community and family and identity, of creativity and authorship and building – they’re passing and something new is coming in their place, and AI has put it all on rails. But we cannot fully realize the potential of what may be if we don’t find a way to properly honor and let go of what is leaving.

Brands have long claimed to support transformation, but few ever create space for endings. If your users are stuck inside outdated perceptions of themselves, how might you help them mark the death of who they used to be? How might your product, campaign, or community offer a kind of funeral or permission to leave the past behind?

Even brands themselves need to die sometimes. Not just rebrand or pivot, but die. Acknowledge that an era is over and let the next one begin with meaning.

I hesitate to invoke the name Jaguar in a brand strategy newsletter, but they did exactly that. The marketing department caused a lot of hoopla, but they did what almost no brands do nowadays. They made it very clear that something old was dead. They’re transforming into an all-electric ultra-luxury brand and despite the turbulence, they stayed the course and their parent company posted its highest annual pre-tax profit in a decade with long waiting lists on upcoming models. They made that ending matter.

If we want to realize the full potential of what’s next – new kinds of brands, products and connection, new economies and new selves – we need to create space for those possibilities to live. And that means we have to let the old things die. Not disappear or fade, but die with intention and ceremony.

Endings can be incredibly powerful framing devices. They give us the power to define what something means before we move on. When we skip that step and refuse to mourn, we give away our right to shape the story.

Anthropologists mark the emergence of death rituals as one of the earliest signs of complex human thought. To bury the dead is to reckon with mortality and imagine something beyond the present. Our ability to ritualize endings to begin anew is what makes us the ultimate generative being. We need endings in order to be human.

In the Global North, we’re entering our summer and a time of movement. Life is stirring again. It’s a good time to make something new by burying something old. We need to become a death-literate culture that knows how to throw a real banger of a funeral, both literally and figuratively. One that understands that mourning is about the deep satisfaction of metabolizing reality.

That grief, when processed, becomes clarity. Finality, when honored, becomes power.

Death is our missing technology right now. It’s what gives form to change. Without it, we’ll continue to hoard outdated ideas of ourselves and our value systems, and confuse preservation with progress.

Endings will both free us and fuel us.

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Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Signs of Life

I took my kids to Disneyland last weekend in 93°F heat. You can plan for the rides and check the weather, but something about that park always manages to surprise you. I know this because I grew up in Anaheim and Disney was my backyard.

The park has changed almost entirely in my lifetime. My favorite childhood attractions have been rebranded and ride operators crack sarcastic jokes now. The experience is largely mediated through your phone, with crowds are so thick you can hardly see the park itself.

But at the end of the day when the weather cools down and people take a load off on Main Street’s curbs and benches, you can spend an hour or two just people watching. And the people are one thing that has not changed.

There will always be teenagers on dates and packs of girls giggling in Minnie ears. There will always be Disney adults and out of state families consuming every ride and food with equanimity. There will always be people offering to take pictures and complementing each other’s niche outfit references.

I study culture for a living and I also know these same people are struggling with jobs and family and meaning. Many of them are anxious and burned out. But in the park, I also get to see how they play and open themselves to wonder. It’s a place where you see people let their guard down and be carried away, despite what headlines and research tell us.

The consumerism can overshadow it, but what you see at Disney is also just a very human attempt to stay connected to each other and ourselves.

That energy culminates on Main Street during sunset. If you sit there long enough, you start to see thousands of people move freely. Lighthearted but in sync. You start to feel a quiet pulse. Proof that in the macro, people always find a way to survive and find joy.

That pulse is getting louder in some corners of culture. Beneath the paralyzing shock of global change, we’re also seeing a quiet reanimation of daily life.

Cool People Who Play

Last March, adults overtook 3-5 year olds as the most important segment for the toy industry, with 43% of people over the age of 18 buying a toy for themselves in 2024. Toys are big business, and this is the first time in history that the business had a customer that could buy its wares without asking their parents.

Out of the top 10 toys adults bought for themselves, #1, #3, #6 and #9 were all some form of Squishmallow.

I’ve had a special interest in the rise of Squishmallows since I first wrote about them in 2023. It started when the Washington Post had published an article about a guy they dubbed “Nick” who was obsessed with the stuffed plushy toys, but didn’t want to use his real name for fear of losing his job.

If tweets about the trend were any indication, Nick was smart not to divulge his identity because people were vicious. In 2022, having an adult toy habit was akin to having a mental illness.

But my oh my, so much has changed in the last 2.5 years.

Major categories of adult gameplay, from boardgames to pickleball, have shot up. Suddenly it’s cool that actor Joe Manganiello is playing D&D in his homemade lair and the Critical Role guys have cultural cache, but the fact is they started making their millions a long time ago. Everyone is playing games for real now. Playing the way children would, getting lost in fantasy worlds without shame or apology.

There’s been a wholesale rejection of cynicism around play that was so apparent just a few years ago. Some stigmas may remain, but they remain the way avocado toast memes linger. Everyone knows the joke is based on a lie.

Adult play is increasing everywhere. Real play. Play that gets you in a flow state, with special rules and special energy. Play that no one thinks of monetizing or turning into a side hustle. We’re re-learning what it means to play simply because it fulfills a deep, human need.

This month in Exposure Therapy we’re studying the cultural catalysts of play and how it both builds the nascent norms of society and breaks them down. Play is deceptively powerful.

Play is how new cultures are born. Play is how we test out the new futures we may choose to pursue.

Ottawa, Canada has named its first-ever Nightlife Commissioner to bring play to the city after dark. In California, Santa Monica’s City Council recently approved a motion to convert its Third Street Promenade into an entertainment zone where (gasp!) you can drink alcohol outdoors while kids play lawn games. Multigenerational playgrounds, adult camps, empty lots converted into creative zones – when we play, we break and remake things.

The play that is emerging will turn into laws and social structures, because play always breaks out into the physical world around it.

Instagram therapists love to say that people who don’t know how to play as adults never felt safe playing as children. That checks out. Or maybe COVID sucked the spirit out of us. Maybe things feel too serious now. But you and I, dear reader, had better learn how to play again because it will improve every other part of our world and our lives.

Play is the starting point of everything we might want for ourselves.

Sydney Sweeney’s Used Bath Water

There are endless thinkpieces and TikToks on the death of social media, but it’s hard to really believe them until you look at the statistics.

The number of people using social has plateaued at 82% since 2021 and it’s not budging. Global minutes per day spent on social media have also plateaued and started to decrease. The numbers are still high but not going higher. Perhaps there was going to always be a ceiling. People still have to live and get things done.

At the same time, attitudes are shifting. More and more people are simply opting out of social, and you’ve probably seen it yourself. My community slack has been talking about this, and I’ve seen it first hand in psychographic research we’re doing for brands and their gen z and millennial audiences. People are increasingly anxious about touching social like it’s something toxic (Jonathan Haidt, no one knows how to name a catchy movement like you do).

Hyper-consumerism, parasocial worship, addictive trend cycles – I think there’s a real chance all of it has peaked. Yes, a changing economy and the enshittification of platforms are part of the equation. But these are also things we wanted to be free of. We’re very tired.

Sydney Sweeney has joked about selling her used bath water. That’s very Sydney Sweeney of her, because she’s made no secret of the fact that she wants to get those brand deals locked down while her star shines bright. You have to respect it.

Naturally, Dr. Squatch partnered with her to sell some used bath water in a bar of soap. The collab did what it needed to do and got lots of tweets and pseudo-discourse and will probably sell many units. But will anyone really care? Was anyone really scandalized? Is anyone truly bothered by what those soaps will actually be used for?

Social media has stretched our limits of caring. Our emotions are not infinite. At some point we have to turn off our phones and preserve what little fucks we have left.

It’s the same reason why the only people who think or care about Liquid Death activations are marketers. It’s why Hawk Tuah girl’s real crime wasn’t blatant financial fraud, but the fact that she didn’t call her crypto “SpitCoin”.

People are pulling away from social because social has given us everything it has to offer and it’s left us wanting. That’s great. It means we want something more meaningful and fulfilling, and now we have a chance at finding it elsewhere.

Working The Good Life

I once knew the founder of a VC studio who had a particular way of recruiting CEOs for the portfolio of startups he was incubating. He looked for McKinsey people in their late 30s who’d stalled on the corporate ladder, and were closely networked to crypto and tech founders with successful exits.

He was looking for someone who felt like they were losing, surrounded by people who were winning, because what he was really after in a CEO was someone with a chip on their shoulder. When you’re in the prime years of your career and you know that your next move is your last chance to prove your worth to your peers and the world, you have a different kind of hunger.

People in that world will always exist because the consulting-to-startup-founder pipeline is efficient and lucrative. It’s not bad or wrong. Everyone knows what the deal is and we all find happiness and meaning in different ways. People needing to prove themselves have benefited larger society since the beginning of time.

The issue today, however, is that hard work and reward are starting to decouple in some pretty fundamental ways. Or at least it looks like that, and perception trumps reality right now. If it seems like working harder, being more loyal, trusting the system or putting in your hours no longer promise greater economic or social capital, then it is a very rational response to de-prioritize work and reprioritize your life.

People feel the shifting landscape of work, but they’re also changing their perceptions of what it means to live a good life and putting work in its secondary place.

Across the U.S. and beyond, there are growing stories of Millennials walking away from conventional career paths to pursue simpler, more fulfilling lives. Major media have profiled burned out young professionals who quit big corporate jobs to move to rural areas or small towns. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But people are experimenting.

22.1 million Americans were working part-time by choice as of this past April 2025, which is nearly 5 times the number of involuntary part-timers. Researchers have been watching this trend for the past few years and attribute a growing portion of it to millennials choosing part-time work and more modest lifestyles in order to keep their mental health in place. Either people are getting lazier or the work-reward equation is so messed up that workers are recalculating their values.

Do you watch #tinyhome content? Do you pay for a #vanlife Patreon like I do? Unfortunately our shared interests are not that special. These two trends in particular have had massive success, and if you read the reddit threads, it’s because they breed the modern fantasy of minimalism and mobility.

While Mr. Beast (who now has more subscribers than Netflix) recently had a leaked memo that reads like a manifesto for audience capture, dearly beloved creators like Outdoor Boys have decided to walk away from money and fame in order to raise their families and live more normal lives. We thought Luke posted because he loves us, which he does, but it was good to be reminded that he loves his kids and sanity more. RIP my favorite channel.

The renegotiation of work and life is a sign of our adaptability. Never underestimate peoples’ ability to find non-obvious ways of making life work. Change is deeply disruptive at first, but then we slowly learn to control our emotions around it. We can’t slow it down, but we can learn to not let it overtake our nervous systems. For many, the first and best way to do that is to change the meaning and significance of work.

A Cultural Audit of Vitality

Sometimes our industry thinks the best way to understand where culture is headed is to study what’s dying. That sounds silly when I write it down. To know culture you have to track what’s coming to life.

Positive signals are indicators of emergent systems and where new values are starting to take root. They’re where energy is gathering for what comes next. If you only study what’s on the doomscroll, you miss the cultural infrastructure that’s being built right under your feet.

Within minutes of walking into Disney one of my kids asked, “Is there a Netflix-land?” (I swear my kids don’t watch that much TV.) He doesn’t know about nostalgia or why a streaming service with no IP might have trouble getting people to spend a fortune on long lines and churros. He thinks that if something plays a role in life, it should show up in the world, too.

When something begins to matter to us, we start looking for it in the world around us. We want to see it echoed in our spaces, our systems, and in the ways we come together. That desire is subtle but powerful. It shapes how culture moves forward, often long before institutions catch up.

The signs of life aren’t usually loud or spectacular, but they are persistent. I don’t think you have to be an optimist to see them, but you do have to be brave enough to look past the naysayers.

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Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Soft Models

In season 2 of Farmer Wants A Wife (essentially The Bachelor but with cowboys), Amy, a real-estate agent from New York, asks handsome Texas farmer Ty, “Does the country bring you peace?” and his confused reaction is telling. “I wouldn’t say that it brings me peace. I think it’s… I’m in a peaceful place. Just as much as, for you, being able to get out brings you peace, the city brings me excitement.”

Anyone who knows anything about farm life knows it’s a grueling, financially unstable, politically charged existence. Farmers are over 3 times more likely to die by suicide, and the show, for it’s part, leaves room in its quiet interviews for the struggle to peak through. Any sense of peace may be fleeting.

I’ve been watching more reality TV lately, in large part because (if you can believe it) my principal strategist Zach Lamb is on this season’s MasterChef. Watching him bravely go on his competitive odyssey these past few months made me spend more time with the genre.

I see something in Farmer Wants A Wife just as I see it in Blue Ribbon Baking Championship, the many iterations of Fixer Upper, and even scripted hits like Nobody Wants This.

People are shoving meaning into places that were never meant to hold it, and Amy and Ty’s exchange shows just how hard we’re working to wrap our smooth fantasies around very rough realities.

The city-girl-chooses-the-simple-life trope is nothing new, but the sheer level of symbolic overload we ascribe to it, the intense need we have for the idealized (mis)conceptions of marrying into what seems like a simpler culture to be true, and the constellation of industries, social media trends and brands that revolve around it, tells us something in the audience has changed.

And something definitely has, because despite Farmer Wants A Wife being a massive global hit over the past 20 years in countries around the world (a fruitful format resulting in 200 marriages and 500 children!), it failed the first time it aired in the US back in 2008. It wasn’t until producers tried again in 2023 that it turned into one of FOX’s top-performing reality series.

There is a fever pitch of forced meaning-making in culture right now, and that’s exactly why this show has found its moment.

What have we become?

We’ve changed in ways we don’t even know yet. We’ve gone through acute, life-altering transformations via technologies, political events and health disasters these past few years that I won’t even list here. You already know them by heart.

So much change in so little time is simply too much for a culture to metabolize. We’ve emerged different, but we don’t quite know what we’ve turned into yet. Processing all of that existential rewiring takes time – time that we were never afforded, and now here we are on the other side of the revolving door, not sure how to define ourselves.

Transformative experiences like these are so significant they reshape our preferences, values, priorities, and even our sense of self. They change both how we see the world and what we want from it.

That leaves us in a philosophically uncomfortable place. If your values change, your identity shifts, your relationships recalibrate, are you still you? Or are you someone else wearing the memory of an earlier version?

We are post-transformation but pre-definition. An earlier philosopher likened it to, “Not a girl, not yet a woman”, and when I see the undercurrent of shows like Farmer Wants A Wife, I see an ambient confusion about who we are, what we believe, and what matters now.

That’s why we’re seeing meaning projected onto things never built to hold it.

Confused Oracles

Years ago in the before times, my new husband and I hosted a small dinner party in our apartment, drinking wine around an IKEA table, the name chatGPT having not yet entered our world, our sense of selves fully intact.

My husband’s good friend, an incredibly gifted thinker who had built an AI startup for the hospitality industry, started talking about the possibility of AI becoming conscious. He didn’t say it like a provocation. He said it like he believed it.

I pushed back. “We don’t even know how our consciousness works. Why would we expect it to arise from a machine?”

He pointed out that while we don’t fully understand consciousness, we do know it tends to emerge from complexity. With brains, and possibly even ecosystems and networks, consciousness appears to be correlated with systems that grow more sophisticated over time. Maybe it wasn’t impossible, he said. Maybe it was inevitable.

I think about that moment all the time now. Because whatever I believed then, I can’t help but notice what we’re doing now. We are treating our AI systems as if they can tell us something true. Not factually true but existentially true. We ask them about our dreams, our marriages, our careers, and we accept their answers as insight.

Even though they hallucinate constantly.

Chatbot hallucinations continue to rise with newer reasoning systems, with OpenAI’s going from 1-2% all the way up to 6.8% in the past year and a half. Its latest model has been shown to hallucinate up to 79% of the time in benchmark testing, and yet we continue to trust it even though their own engineers don’t know entirely how it works and reasons.

But that doesn’t matter because our trust in these models doesn’t come from accuracy. It comes from the fact that they feel right and validating and comforting. They feel coherent, as if they know something.

As Rachel Botsman has pointed out, trust hasn’t vanished, it’s just moved. It no longer flows upward to experts and institutions. Modern technology and platforms have instead changed the flow of trust to go sideways toward peers, strangers and crowds. And what is chatGPT if not the exponential intelligence of strangers and crowds, wrapped up in a voice that feels like a peer?

Sam Altman knows this. As Dave Karpf writes, OpenAI’s entire communications strategy is less about technical progress than about sustaining the illusion of futurity. The cadence of announcements is the product.

And if you step back, what we’re doing starts to look very familiar again. We’re shoving meaning into something that was never built to carry it.

In our hunger for direction, we’ve begun to treat AI outputs like prophecies. We are not treating them like systems of knowledge, we are projecting meaning onto them. We treat these technologies like soft models: emotionally loaded, unstable frameworks we project meaning onto in order to navigate identity, selfhood, and culture in a post-transformation era.

And we’re the ones doing the mental gymnastics to believe it’s true.

I am deeply excited about the potential of AI to solve many of the world’s ills. My agency and work has always been embedded in the tech world, and I am more familiar than most with both its tremendous possibilities and human pitfalls. Maybe one day AI will become conscious. I’m not betting either way. But if that day ever comes, it will only be a footnote to the real story because long before AI woke up, we had already crowned it an oracle.

The Adult Baptism of Pete Davidson

There’s a photo of Pete Davidson that made the rounds earlier this year, shirtless and conspicuously bare. The once chaotic collage of tattoos that covered his body had been mostly scrubbed clean. A GQ story called it an adult baptism, adding “he looked fantastic.”

Tattoo removal is having a moment. Clinics are booming and demand is very high. The stories people tell about why they’re doing it sound less like regret and more like absolution, with one person saying “I’ll return to the grave with a clean body.” Who knew that the real market winners of our trauma-induced reinvention would be laser removal clinics?

At least some of this is tethered to the aesthetics of clean wellness. I.e. smooth skin, clean slates, optimized lives. But that’s only the surface. What’s really being marketed is rebirth.

Wellness used to be about feeling better. At some point it turned into becoming someone else entirely.

You can see it in the rise of psychedelic retreats, cold plunges, trauma breathwork, and rituals that look more like modern mysticism than medicine. In the now-canonical Netflix series The Goop Lab, many episodes are punctuated by someone sobbing as if they’ve been spiritually reborn. And in some sense, they have. Wellness today is about burning off the self that no longer fits.

And yes, all of this began as a necessary response to a medical system that has long ignored the needs of women and marginalized people. It gave people language for the unspeakable and offered tools when the institutions failed.

But somewhere along the way, we started to load it with meaning that went far beyond healing. Wellness became the vessel into which we poured all our cultural confusion about purpose and identity.

It’s why despite all of the transcendence modern wellness promises some of us (myself included) find it to be an uncomfortable bedfellow to the $6.3 trillion megaindustry of powders, pills, devices, retreats and questionable influences that power it.

At some point, it requires a certain level of willful meaning-making, or at least an increasing share of your disposable income, to place all of your purpose and identity on the shaky pillar of something like cleanliness.

Temporary Scaffolding

The instinct to make meaning is not new. But the speed, scale, and saturation of it today is. Culture has become a hall of mirrors where everything gets loaded with symbolic weight it was never built to hold. From our media and movements to our presidents, platforms and products, we make identity out of objects far too fragile to hold the sheer burden of the meaning we throw onto them.

This is what happens when transformation outpaces definition. We’re trying to reassemble identity in real time, with whatever tools are lying around.

It’s important to be cognizant of what we are doing and to make meaning with our eyes wide open.

We have to remember that we are the ones assigning meaning. Let us be careful about assuming any of these soft models carry an inherent meaning that is beyond us. We can choose what defines us, and in our rush to land on a solid sense of identity, we should also make sure to not settle for anything that wasn’t designed to bear the pressure of what we require.

This is how conflict shows up too. We see someone else’s soft model and call it delusion, extremism, a personality cult. And in some cases it very much is those things. But they’re also doing exactly what we are – grasping for something stable to stand on. Cultural conflict, at its core, often isn’t about different values but about different coping strategies. And we are all coping right now.

If there’s a call to action here, it’s not to stop building meaning. It’s to stay aware of the scaffolding. To know when we’re myth-making. To hold our soft models lightly and be willing to build better, stronger, more resilient ones. I can’t tell you what those are, you will have to find them for yourself, but make sure you find them. Do not settle for what is easily at hand.

At some point, the scaffolding will start to harden and we’ll be locked into our systems of meaning. Culture will metabolize everything it’s been through, and the soft models we once reached for will become fixed realities. The meanings we project today will define the selves we have to live with tomorrow.

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Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Economies of Control

Control is becoming the organizing principle of modern life, and the next engine of economic and cultural value.

But not all control is created equal.

We name economies by what’s being monetized. The Knowledge Economy, Sharing Economy, Experience Economy, and Attention Economy were all new engines of value creation. Each name was a signal of where systems, money, and cultural innovation were headed, and beyond anything else, they revealed what we were really hungry for.

But the nature of our hunger has shifted so dramatically in the past few years that it feels pretty inadequate to call it by any of those names.

A new economic logic tells us what we want now is control. Not dominance, but rather a sense of power over the extreme complexity that pervades our everyday lives. Complexity that feels more and more like chaos.

We don’t always see the complexity, but we feel it in the disconnect between the everyday and the existential, like the way a cracked eggshell is somehow entangled with American religiosity and Turkish geopolitics. Just last week, a New York Times headline asked Why is everything so coded now? while another headline in the same paper posed the question Can I wear a sheath dress without looking MAGA?

We feel complexity in the constant churn of events we can’t quite explain, but somehow know we’re supposed to manage on levels both profound and inane.

The laugh-out-loud existential ennui of TikTok is now creeping into the broetry posts of LinkedIn, stripped of any charming humor (some of it written by yours truly, sans broetry), and you don’t have to scroll for long to see that time itself feels broken under the weight of acceleration. We’ve all got one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake. Without a shared truth, one person’s “I’m thrilled to announce…” becomes another person’s “Late-stage capitalism is a vibe.” You know the drill.

This is the kind of complexity that doesn’t announce itself but still governs everything we do. And in response, people are willing to pay a premium for anything that promises even the illusion of control.

Just look around. Every single part of your life now has a control panel you can (and probably do) pay for.

Your body has a control panel, and it can take many forms, from sleep trackers and glucose monitors, to biohacking protocols and period alignment apps. We are self-surveilling our body fat percentages on our phones and our physiques in every reflective surface.

Your relationships have control panels too, governed by therapy scripts and templates for boundary-keeping. Your work, whether you’re an entrepreneur or an artist, is a series of Notion boards and inspiration apps that hold your ambition in place.

Parenting has infinite dashboards. Dating has them. Your nervous system has many. Even your personality is being flattened into an interface you can optimize. We’ve been taught to believe that if we can track it, if we can measure it, if we can optimize it and maxx it, then we can control it.

Religion is rising in the zeitgeist but I’d say that’s just a fancy control panel for spirituality. The religiosity of today doesn’t feel like belief so much as it feels like design. Techy incarnations of manifestation and bible study, when examined a little more closely, are really more like protocols for productivity culture. When Mark Wahlberg, the man famous for waking up at 2:30am and working out twice a day, is behind the #1 Christian prayer app in the world, you have to ask yourself if our religious control panels are more about systematizing than they are about surrender.

AI isn’t to blame, this movement started before, but it’s definitely speeding things up. A while back I posted an HBR chart that showed, according to mostly Reddit data, the top 3 use cases for AI have gone from being about ideas and search, to being about emotional needs like therapy and finding life purpose. People in the comments were split – some excited that AI was growing into a more emotional form, others alarmed that this may be the clearest sign yet of people retreating to a dangerous technology at the expense of real-life relationships.

It seems to me that we are adapting our shiniest new control panel to serve our deepest need. Perhaps the place where we feel we have the least power is with each other. Maybe AI isn’t profiting off our need for intelligence but rather our need to feel like we have control.

Different control needs yield different interfaces, whether they be emotional, biological, or metaphysical. But the logic stays the same: build a dashboard of control around the chaos and hope it holds.

But if you look closely, the control here isn’t always real. These interfaces sometimes seem to engender a lack of trust in ourselves and a false promise of power. We have more tools than ever, and yet feel less in control than ever. Every control panel is actually a portal to anxiety: Am I doing enough? Am I optimizing this right?

Is it really control, the real kind of control that we want, when everything is over-analyzed and over-optimized? When people across the political spectrum are increasingly “prepping” for disaster and fantasizing about moving to a homestead, does anyone really feel more in control of their lives?

The shadow side of control is reliance on systems that make us obsess over the minutiae that are far downstream from where control actually comes from.

That’s because the control economy we see today is largely reactive.

Reactive Control is about helping people cope with the chaos by giving them small optimizations within it. It’s about symptom management instead of fixing the underlying condition, and it often delivers control only in narrow, incremental bursts. These systems aren’t necessarily malicious but they’re definitely tired and most of them are deep in their curve of diminishing returns. They’ve been iterated so many times that all we’re left with is a finely tuned but fundamentally exhausted architecture.

You see it everywhere: supplements that target increasingly obscure biomarkers, productivity apps that shave minutes off workflows, dashboards that let you micromanage parts of your life that were never meant to be managed.

These systems condition us to believe we’re gaining control, when in fact we’re just rearranging our anxieties. You can optimize the wrong thing perfectly, but it’s still going to be the wrong thing.

What we need at a time like this, what we are really hungry for, is something generative.

Generative Control takes the chaos and builds meaning within it. Rather than offering better tools within a broken system, it builds entirely new ones that reshape the context altogether. If reactive control is about optimization, generative control is about agency. It offers the chance to reimagine the entire environment.

Generative control doesn’t just ask, “How can I manage this better?” It asks, “What if this didn’t need managing at all?” Generative control is a non-incremental jump forward, and for all the noisy (and lucrative) reactive control out there, we’re starting to see generative control peek through the cracks.

In education, we see concepts like Alpha School that uses AI to teach kids an entire, customized curriculum in just 2 hours a day, while the rest of the day is reserved for social and life skills led by guides (i.e. their form of teachers). It gives kids a chance to experience highly efficient learning with personalized instruction, but also have the rest of the day to just be a kid. Most of the day is spent away from the desk, and children learn to interact and collaborate on lessons disguised as play.

In marriage, we see different cultures exploring new relationship structures. In Japan, a growing number of young people are choosing to design their own version of marriage built around mutual respect, shared values, and practical partnership, rather than romance or tradition. They’re called friendship marriages and these arrangements might include cohabiting, or not. Parenting, if it happens, is often intentional and planned through artificial insemination. For many, it’s a way to reclaim agency in the face of rising economic pressure and evolving ideas around intimacy.

These are not concepts and systems for managing chaos. These are systems for finding new meaning in a changed world, and for giving people authentic control that has been missing. Now imagine if this logic of generative control started moving beyond education and relationships, and into other domains of life.

What would it look like if end-of-life care wasn’t treated as a series of medicalized checklists, but as an opportunity to reassert agency and meaning? What if families could choose models of dying that center emotional authorship, ritual, and dignity, as customizable and culturally resonant frameworks? Death itself, long relegated to reactive systems of care, could become a domain where people reclaim authorship over how they are celebrated and ultimately transition.

In America, the way we live is starting to change. I’ve talked about the rise of mommunes, communes and friendship-centered living, but a generative control economy could take us even further to include multi-generational living. What’s often seen in the West as a sign of economic precarity could be reframed through generative control as a purposeful structure where power, caregiving, and decision-making are intentionally distributed across generations. Instead of defaulting to the nuclear family or the senior home, people could design living arrangements that reflect the needs and values of everyone under one roof.

Medicine, food, transportation, travel, play, identity… when you start to feel the line between reactive and generative control, you start to see net-new ideas for how every part of life can be reinvented in our new control economy.

There is, however, an undeniable strangeness to generative control, and you’re probably already feeling it.

Generative control often enters the scene under the guise of the weird. It feels disconcerting at first, perhaps morally or socially abrasive. Something about it may even feel perverse because it breaks conventions and norms, just like an AI-based school or marriages of friendship may feel questionable. But weird is a clue that something new is trying to be born.

We’re living through a moment of historically high tolerance for weirdness. In the past few years alone, we’ve watched mainstream culture absorb things like mass resignations, the gamification of finance, therapy speak on dating apps, and billionaires talking about brain interfaces on morning shows. Things feel unstable, yes, but instability also signals openness. When the pace of weirdness accelerates, the conditions for reinvention are at their peak.

So if it feels like anything could happen right now, it’s because anything can, and that is a fantastic position to be in.

Cultural norms are more plastic than they’ve been in a generation. Expectations are up for grabs and there’s room, for once, to create rather than conform.

The control economy is still in flux and it can go in two different directions. You will be asked, implicitly or explicitly, to buy into one version or the other. In some places there is no generative option and reactive control is as we have. In other places, generative options are emerging but they require imagination, work and some risk taking.

Choose intentionally in what you invest in (time, money or otherwise), because the reactive control economy will make short-term money, but the generative control economy can create wholly new markets and massive new financial, cultural, and systemic value. We all need some reactive control in parts of our lives, but do not let it be a distraction from the promise of something more generative.

Generative control will be the economy that smart investors, brands, and governments will bet on because they know the upside potential is beyond anything you can get on the reactive side.

The control economy has only just arrived. We’ll all need to distinguish between reactive models that fill a short-term need, or generative systems that reshape our markets and reality.

Things can get weird, they should get weird, and you should be playing with the weirdness. There’s new value to be found and created.


 

For the Intellectually Isolated

I didn’t always know what to do with the parts of myself that overflowed my job.

The obsessive curiosity, ambition, obsession with finding meaning. Strategy was my work, but the rooms I was in didn’t always make sense to have the full conversation.

If you feel the same and are wondering what it’s like to find a place where you can put all that energy and connect with others who are just like you, watch our new Exposure Therapy testimonial video below to hear exactly what it’s like:

“One of the most instrumental things for my career.”

“I’d pay 3x what I’m paying for all of this.”

“If you’re anybody who is searching for anything, you will gain so much insight.”

“Just do it. You won’t regret it.”

We all need a community like this.

The people that feel intellectually isolated in the world… those people end up becoming our members. One year in and it’s become even more than I ever imagined it could be.

If this is what you’re seeking, come join us.

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Culture Featured

The Real Reason We’re Obsessed with Halloween Like Never Before

I have a hot take on why Halloween is taking over more and more of our lives.

I think we’re using Halloween to explore our unprocessed grief as a culture.

Sales for the holiday are booming, Target added a whopping 1,300 Halloween SKUs this year, and the most Americans ever report they will be celebrating. It’s not a day or month anymore, Halloween is a whole season. 

We want more Halloween.

Bigger and scarier, but also more all-consuming.

There’s been a surge in the popularity of immersive horror experiences and we’ve turned a children’s holiday into an adult escapade (adults now spend significantly more on Halloween for themselves). 

Meanwhile, more and more people are seeking ways to find the pageantry in death, whether it’s in living funeral parties, death doulas or the death positivity movement. There’s been an explosion of #shadowwork, dark romantasy, and the overall rise of memento mori practices all at the same time.

Even the current rise of #witchtok has a longstanding precedent in people turning to the occult after periods of acute change (much like the acute change we have all experienced in recent years.)

America’s Halloween Era has arrived.

It’s a movement defined by our collective desire to be immersed in the dark, the morbid, and the macabre – and while consumerism doesn’t begin to adequately explain a movement with such emotional underpinnings, psychology possibly does.

This may be one of the ways we’re dealing with our grief for what has been lost over the past few years: loss of community, loss of safety and social trust, and even the loss of our previous identities.

We have lost so much and in so many ways, and a culture can only go so long without addressing its grief.

For many, the chaos and upheaval of the past few years didn’t leave time to properly process it all. The pandemic, shifting economy, social and political unrest, and constant uncertainty took us from one crisis to another, leaving us in a state of suspended mourning.

And so where does a culture like America’s go – a culture famously bereft of any formal rituals for embracing death and loss – when it needs to confront these feelings that have been building up for so long?

We go to a holiday like Halloween. A holiday that acts as a safe and creative space for turning grief into a form of ritualized expression.

That doesn’t mean we feel sad or shed tears on Halloween. It means, instead, that we’ve begun to use it as a sort of emotional release valve.

We can toy with the feelings that have haunted us without having to succumb to them. 

We can relate to death without having to admit exactly what has been lost.

And maybe that’s as much as our weary culture can handle right now.

After all, it’s one of our only holidays that openly embraces themes of darkness and transformation, letting us confront difficult emotions in a palatable but meaningful way.

We can play to process, and that’s the perfect compromise for a public that is maybe too fatigued to handle their collective trauma head-on.

It’s death, but from a playful distance.

With such emotional burden in the air, it’s no wonder that Halloween has started to change the landscape of both our front lawns and our businesses. It has literally transformed the pattern of Home Depot’s foot traffic, and the once-small faction of Halloween superfans is now racing alongside the general public to get hot items before they sell out, usually months in advance of October 31st at places like Target, Pottery Barn, Bath Bath and Bodyworks, Crate & Barrel, Homegoods, JoAnn’s and numerous other retailers.

Even the Spirit Halloween store, once an eyesore in struggling retail centers, has become the welcome harbinger of spooky season.

Now I understand that some of this can be explained by the rise of cosplay, Halloween’s non-denominational appeal, and our general, growing urge to just celebrate more (all great points brought up by strategists I admire when I first posted this hot take on LinkedIn), but I don’t feel that these forms of American consumerism fully explain the magnitude of what’s happening. 

We’re buying more of the holiday because we want to live more of it. Normal people around the country are in bitter feuds with their HOAs to keep their 12-foot Home Depot skeletons (a.k.a. Skellys) up all year long, dressing them up for Mardi Gras, Independence Day, Christmas and Back-To-School season. 

For others, Halloween is a year-round aesthetic distinct from goth or emo. Halloween planning comes earlier every year and lawn decorations continue to get more gory and terrifying. 

We want Halloween, along with all of its chills and thrills, to be a more integral part of our lives. We want to coexist with our haunting feelings and to draw out the terror. We’re seeking a deeper and darker experience not only out of Halloween, but also out of all of the death-related trends that are growing in step with it.

A nation robbed of its mourning now longs to dance with fear. We’ve wanted to face the darkness for a long time and when feelings like that are repressed, they don’t just go away. Instead they come out sideways – in weird, playful, thinly-veiled desires to feel something deeper.

And this is where brands should take note. 

This new eagerness to play with the things that terrify us is whole new territory. This is not jumpscares and haunted houses. This is a vicarious release for our pent up distress. On some level, people aren’t really looking for Halloween. They’re looking for catharsis—a release for emotions they’re not able to process otherwise, because they haven’t been given the time or space to do it in.

You have to ask yourself if your brand creates the kinds of spaces people can feel deeply in. If people are looking for spaces where they can jolt their emotions and feel something more intense, are you creating those spaces for them?

It doesn’t have to be Halloween and it doesn’t have to be feelings of mourning, but it does have to be a special space where people can behave and feel differently.

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Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Invisible Culture

When Moonjuice was founded in 2011 by Amanda Chantal Bacon, it was easy for people (like myself) to dismiss it as out of touch branding. The company’s hero product, Sex Dust, was an adaptogen-laden powder that promised support for “your sex life, sexual arousal, or sexual performance” with a hefty price tag. 

For the uninitiated mainstream, Sex Dust and the many other cosmically branded Moonjuice products like it, seemed like ridiculous promises for ridiculous problems.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that Bacon had tapped into a wellness signal that the rest of us couldn’t hear yet. She understood that a new form of spiritual wellness, which combined performance, supernatural leanings, and alternative health was on the cusp of our collective consciousness. 

That spiritual wellness was invisible culture, and when it surfaced, it became a part of our shared reality. 

Every trend starts as an anomaly: a deviation from the norm that may look like an outlier at first, but actually signals a widespread change that is about to come. 

Companies that spot cultural change before it becomes visible will always have an advantage not only in brand strategy, but also in innovation. The most valuable strategies and innovations have always been predicated on a prediction, and the only predictions that matter are the ones that tell us where culture is headed.

Invisible culture will tell you where people are willing to be pulled. It will reveal what direction they’re inclined to move in, opening a channel of new and viable opportunities that didn’t exist before. 

In their article, “The Power of Anomaly”, authors Martin Reeves, Bob Goodson and Kevin Whitaker explain that finding these invisible changes means looking in the right place at the right time:

“To take advantage of emerging trends, companies must identify them when they are embryonic—not purely speculative, but not yet named or widely known. At that stage the signs will be merely anomalies: weak signals that are in some way surprising but not entirely clear in scope or import.”

The kinds of anomalies that matter in strategy are the ones that show us how people are changing, and this is what my team at Concept Bureau focuses on in our monthly Brands & Outliers meeting. Our goal in that meeting, and throughout all of our work, is to look for changes in three main dimensions: how people feel emotionally, how people behave personally and publicly, and what people believe. 

Emotions, behaviors and beliefs will always lead you to the heart of invisible culture. When any of those three things start to shift, there’s likely an anomaly worth paying attention to.

But how do you find these bleeding edge anomalies and shifts in the first place? The inconvenient answer is that it takes experience. The more you research, pay attention, and learn to think like a strategist, the more you will develop a sixth sense for spotting it.

However, there are some hotspots along the landscape that tend to house invisible culture more than others. They provide dependable signals in categories full of noise, especially in places where there are many stakeholders or competing narratives:

  1. Where categories intersect
  2. Strong tie communities
  3. Dissenting voices

Each of these places reveals different truths, but all of them will give you a pulse on how people are evolving and how they are willing (or wanting) to change.

When a brand understands that, they have permission to create a whole new future for their audience.

#1 Look at the intersection between categories.

The border between your category and another is usually where users are evolving the most. The changes that happen here tend to be step-changes in how people behave. It’s where we see many new norms and behaviors first emerge. 

If you look at the intersection of healthcare and parenting, you see brands like Boram Care (postpartum retreat for moms), Genexa (clean kids medicine), Slumberkins (emotional learning tools for children) and a whole host of influencers, communities and private schools focused on alternative development styles.

All of these point toward more thoughtful care for children, but that’s obvious.

Spotting the real trend requires you to zoom out and look at how people are changing among all of these examples, and when you do that, what you find is a redefinition of the parent.

Parents have become increasingly intuitive about how they raise kids. They don’t look to grandparents for advice, they don’t subscribe to just a single ideology, and the few experts they do wholly subscribe to are usually the ones going against the grain.

Parenting is less about doing what is accepted as right, and more about doing what feels right. Being a parent may have once been an act of well-trodden routines and pathways, but it is increasingly becoming an act of defiance, in both the big things and the little things. Many of the choices a parent makes are in resistance to something they don’t agree with, in exchange for something that is more aligned with their intuition.  

That insight creates new room for new innovations, brands and experiences.

You can do the same at the intersection of any other two categories. It will often be a leading indicator of what is to come.

#2 Watch for changing emotions in strong tie communities

Weak ties historically allowed us to extract value from the peripheries of our networks (think LinkedIn, Instagram and Twitter), while strong ties extract value from relationships at the center of our networks (think Patreon, niche Discord groups, online affinity groups, and the proliferation of like minded living communities like Latitude Margaritaville).

While weak ties have been the underpinning of social innovation for the last two decades, strong ties are starting to emerge as the dominant threads of our social fabric.

Strong tie communities are a valuable place to look for the future because they’re typically where culture is most expressed and engaged with. When emotions and feelings begin to turn in these spaces, culture will soon follow. 

We’ve seen this with many of our clients, including strong tie communities in beauty, self-care, education and dating. When emotions started to change in these deep, personal spaces between people, we knew a shift was coming. Emotions shift before people even have the words or the ideas to articulate the change they are experiencing.

Nearly all beverage industry experts attribute the strong rise of non-alcoholic adult beverages to people being more health conscious, more sober-curious, and more willing to substitute alcohol with cannabis. Gen Z goes so far as to call alcohol “Boomer technology”.

The vast majority of research reports cite these same factors over and over again, but they are missing an important change in people’s emotions—a change that can only be seen in the corners of strong tie communities—that explains this phenomenon much better. 

People overall are gathering in more thoughtful ways. They are choosing connective activities like experiential dinners and holidays with chosen family. They’re playing board games and jumping in adult bounce houses. They still gather to drink, but when they do, it’s less in bars and more in the intimacy of their own homes with friends.

They seek more connective social experiences than before, in no small part due to COVID, and aim to engage with others more meaningfully. They want shared experiences that require them to be wholly present. One look at the fanbase that has formed around author Priya Parker’s book Art of Gathering will show you how far people are going today in order to reinvent the common meetup, party or hang in order to emotionally connect. 

These more thoughtful gatherings require us to rethink the concept of alcohol. Yes, we want to be healthier, but we also want more fully immersed, human-to-human interactions. 

This is where many alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverage brands will make the mistake of a shallow gesture, believing that adding adaptogenic ingredients or an organic label will be enough to capture this changing mindset, when in fact the trend in lower alcohol consumption is much bigger than obvious health reasons. 

Emotions are taking a sharp turn when it comes to the ways we gather. We come together for different reasons now, and with very different expectations. We expect to change or be changed through our encounters with others. We expect to go deeper and feel something personally. 

Where drinking may have once been a vehicle for helping us lighten up or numb out, it is now a vehicle for settling down and plugging in.

That’s a future signal that any brand—alcoholic or not—can do something interesting with. 

#3 Listen for dissenting stories.

When an idea or story is widely accepted, pay attention to the quiet voices that dissent. By the time that idea is openly resisted, it will be too late to take advantage of the change.

For every story, there is an opposing story that will tell you just as much (if not more) about the direction of invisible culture. Find the unheard stories that counteract our accepted beliefs, find out who is telling those stories and how they are telling them.

When we developed the brand strategy for AI consultancy Prolego in 2021, they faced a unique problem. Their B2B clients wanted to embrace AI in their businesses, but those clients’ B2C customers shared widespread fears of AI’s potential risks. C-suites coveted the AI prowess of TikTok, but feared the AI backlash of Cambridge Analytica. 

It was a different time, before chatGPT, when Alexa smart home assistants and Siri enabled devices were the extent to which most people experienced AI in their daily lives. But even with only these rudimentary forms of AI, the public’s opinion was largely informed by dystopian movies, clickbait headlines, and economic insecurity. 

In our research for Prolego, we discovered a quiet, invisible group of people we called “AI Natives”, and turned our findings into a report called AI Natives Among Us. That report demonstrated a very early signal of invisible culture that has only just come to fruition in the past few months. 

Just as the digital natives who came before them had an innate ability to navigate the internet, AI Natives were defined by their ability to build relationships with the AI around them. They were not merely AI users. They were connected to AI in a way that allowed them to shape AI tools for their own needs, willing to invest in molding AI for their unique way of life.

The widely accepted mainstream story of the time was that AI was a nefarious “other”, but the dissenting story of this audience was that AI was very much a technology that belonged within the human experience. AI Natives didn’t want to see technology, they wanted to feel it, and that distinction perfectly describes the difference between the apps of yesterday and the AI platforms of today.

One AI Native told us, “We’re going on vacation in a month and we’re actually packing my Google Home because I’m so used to telling it things.” A Director at a Fortune 30 healthcare company said, “In a hundred years from now, there probably will be no internet or smartphones, but there will certainly be AI.” 

Most interestingly, after hearing about a company’s investment in AI, nearly half of adults under the age of 45 were more likely to believe the company positively affected society and cared about its customers. AI had a profound halo effect on the perception of a brand among AI Natives.

Their story has quickly proven to be our trajectory. There is still cultural uncertainty and fear, but the once-dissenting story of the AI Native is a clear signal of what is to come. 

 


 

The anomalies of invisible culture require us to approach everything we see with an open and nimble mind. The fact is culture is always changing at the edges, always moving in a new direction, and never in a straight line for too long. 

Every brand and innovation that mattered came from an understanding of these changes. 

Not every anomaly will be a true signal, of course, but if you pay attention for long enough, you will start to gain a sense for the kinds of outliers that will regress back to the mean, and the kinds that will change it. 

Keep searching in the places where invisible culture tends to pop up, get a strong feel for how new emotions, behaviors and beliefs bubble at the edges, and gain an advantage in the marketplace.

Categories
Brand Strategy Culture Featured

The Noetic Future of Culture and Brands

The covens have assembled: #witch has over 27 billion views on TikTok. Sales of Tarot cards have doubled in the last five years, and you can even buy “Wiccan Jewelry” on Walmart.com now. More of us are turning our palms up to the sun: The Guardian recently heralded the “Dawn of The New Pagans” as their ranks swell worldwide. And astrology? You already know it’s more popular than it’s ever been, particularly with Gen Z and millennials. 

But these are just New Age spirituality’s greatest hits – it gets weirder and more nuanced. Heard of Celtic handfasting? It’s an ancient marriage ceremony where the hopefuls’ hands are tied together. That’s on the rise, too. Energy crystal sales have up-ticked as of late, and no less an authority than Vogue France recently published an article about how to recharge your crystals during full moons. As a culture, we’re at least two stops past perineum sunning. 

87% of Americans purport to believe in at least one New Age spiritual belief. Nearly a third of Americans now believe in reincarnation, and more of us are trying to connect with our past lives: Past-life regression self-hypnosis videos spiked on TikTok in 2020. And we don’t even have to talk about the explosion of interest in aliens, or ayahuasca – but who’s not at least a little bit intrigued by the ayahuasca aliens and DMT entities everyone is starting to talk about?

Comment on Congressional UFO Hearing Live Stream on 7/26/23

I’m sure you can feel the woo-woo oozing across culture right now. Fashionable brands like Kin Euphorics and Dooz are explicitly positioned on a spiritual axis, and AdWeek has recently reported that major brands like Febreeze are beginning to engage consumers on existential and spiritual terrain. According to Edelman’s 2023 Trust Barometer, brands have already become the most trusted stewards of our social future, so it’s not a stretch to see them becoming stewards of our spiritual future, as well.

Kin Euphorics – “About Us”

This is all clear evidence of a culture in mass pursuit, but of what? In a recent piece of cultural analysis for The New Atlantis, journalist, author and scholar of religion, Tara Isabella Burton, has summarized our current cultural agita eloquently. Burton is worth quoting at length, emphasis mine: 

“More and more young, intellectually inclined, and politically heterodox thinkers are showing disillusionment with the contemporary faith in technocracy and personal autonomy. They see this combination as having contributed to the fundamentally alienating character of modern Western life. The chipper, distinctly liberal optimism of rationalist culture that defines so much of Silicon Valley ideology — that intelligent people, using the right tools, can think better, and save the world by doing so — is giving way, not to pessimism, exactly, but to a kind of techno-apocalypticism. We’ve run up against the limits — political, cultural, and social alike — of our civilizational progression; and something newer, weirder, maybe even a little more exciting, has to take its place. Some of what we’ve lost — a sense of wonder, say, or the transcendent — must be restored.”

This backlash was already in full swing long before artificial intelligence smashed through the wall at the beginning of 2023, grinning like the Kool-Aid man. We can’t talk about anything else anymore. AI is the apotheosis – the zenith, the endpoint –  of “the Silicon Valley ideology.” 

You can’t be neutral on AI. At the level of discourse, our future is threefold: non-existent, hellscape or utopia. Dropping down from the clouds of discourse, here on the ground, what is certain is that AI is about to radically alter our daily experience and force us into a confrontation with our most foundational assumptions about ourselves, our society and our reality. We’re becoming increasingly fixated on the question of what, exactly, defines human uniqueness.

Yuval Harari, Historian and Author of Sapiens and Homo Deus

This is a rare moment in human history, one of those once-every-thousand-years, history-defining moments, where we’re calling into question how it is we can know anything at all. We’re no longer just jousting with alternative facts; instead, the core aspects of social reality are up for discussion.

Tim Urban, Podcaster and Author of What’s Our Problem? A Self Help Book For Societies

The once-settled questions are back on the table, and they’re as deep as they get. What does it mean to be a human being? What’s unique and defensible about us vis-a-vis superintelligence? What will it mean for our future when we’re no longer the smartest thing on the planet? What is a just, good society when superintelligent AI exists? 

Will any of us have jobs? Will AI destroy democracy? Will AI become our new God? Will it disclose the true nature of reality? What happens then? Do the aliens have AI? 

I could keep going on. 

What’s clear is that we’re attempting to re-enchant a disenchanted world. Mysticism and esoteric spirituality – the woo-woo – is surging alongside our newfound existential chafing over the emergence of humanity-altering technological advance. These streams aren’t always separate, either. They can overlap in conflicting and confusing ways, leading to more mysticism and more woo – even the spiritualization of AI – and yet further chafe. 

But there’s a charged current grounding everything that’s in flux in culture right now: intuition, the “felt to be true.” We were already beginning to lean into our feelings and intuitions before the advent of AI. Now, we are being guided by them, and we’re re-evaluating how we know ourselves, how we relate to each other and the meaning of “higher powers” in our lives.

Intuitive guidance will only deepen its hold in a future populated by an increasing diversity of non-human intelligences. We will come to see that it is what defines our humanity, our uniqueness. Intuition like ours is something AI will likely never have. And we’re just now beginning to create new cultures from this place. 

Evolving The Known, Intuiting The Future 

Philosophers call the study of how we know what we know epistemology. There have been three major epistemological eras throughout human history: ancient, religious and scientific. But right now a new way of knowing is emerging in the cracks between the scientific and the religious; pushing them, widening them out and creating more space for itself. 

This new way of knowing prioritizes intuitive, noetic knowledge over knowledge gleaned from scientific erudition and classic, Abrahamic religions. Noetics is defined as “inner wisdom, direct knowing, intuition, or implicit understanding.” 

It’s subjective experience writ large – knowledge that is felt to be true, inside, by the self, and intuition is its defining experiential characteristic.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

When the rare, new epistemology gains ascendancy, the waning one is not replaced entirely; it lingers on vestigially in the form of institutions, cultural practices and narrative mythologies. Epistemologies are the slow-moving, tectonic plates upon which all of culture is built. Different epistemological foundations appeal to different groups. They each offer a different mythological story of reality and a different foundational wellspring to nourish our meaning-making efforts. 

Bryan Johnson, the founder of Blueprint, is our culture’s foremost longevity bard. Love him or hate him, there are scant people as interesting as he is in culture at the moment. His reply below is a striking example of what’s at stake with an epistemological shift, and it shows both how deeply rooted and how transformative they are.

Bryan Johnson pointing out the vestigial effects of Christian Epistemology

Yes, the science versus religion battle is burning hotter than ever. But what’s more interesting and more accurately describes the current moment is the shift from scientific – from the “Silicon Valley Ideology” again – to noetic intuition. More and more of us are jumping from the burning building, away from the fires and into a world built on a ground of intuitive feeling. 

Noetic, “felt to be true” knowledge is ripe for our times because it upends the hierarchies of an earlier era that are no longer serving our culture, like patriarchy and an intensive, globally destructive version of capitalism. 

This is an exciting, generative time for culture. We’re stepping further into the unknown with the conviction that we must leave behind the institutions of an earlier era. We’re only just beginning to actually create and build from a place of feeling as a society, but our initial forays are promising.

Noetic Ways of Knowing the Self, Society, and Spirituality

Knowing Myself: Noetic Self-Creation

The central question facing people today is: Who am I? All of the structures that used to answer this question for us – our family, class, race, gender, occupation, and religion – have either broken down or have lost their significance as defining features of identity. The result is that it’s become everyone’s job to make meaning from their experiences on their own. 

The cultural ubiquity of therapy-speak, trauma discourse, lived experience, intersectionality and authenticity are all symptoms of this deeper desire –  first to know, and then to freely create ourselves based on how we feel internally. This new mode of guidance by feel is so entrenched that The Atlantic has recently published a guide to the most misused and misunderstood psychological terms, with “boundaries” topping the list.

@zozoroe & @higher.dimension_
@amandasimplywell & @xavier.dagba

These pursuits of self-finding are all noetically-led and come from within, from a felt understanding of the damages that society can sometimes inflict upon us. Our feelings – world as it is be damned – are the locus of action in this new culture. 

What’s been centered is our internal, subjective, felt sense of truth – as in truth for me. And what’s happening with this mass internal gazing is that we’re beginning to allow personal feelings to shape society and culture in a meaningful way that we’ve never seen before. 

This is why psychedelics are all the rage right now. They’re the perfect noetic technology because they cut right to the heart of this new way of knowing. The business of psychedelics is booming, and major drug companies are getting in on the act, with many new psychedelic compounds in the development pipeline. Investment dollars are flowing into the space, and psychedelic venture capital firms –  like Empath Ventures – now exist.

@tommiesunshine

Regardless of your perspective – your truth – those who have taken them have had profound experiences that have an ineffable, “felt to be true” quality. Psychedelics have always been heralded for their noetic qualities, and their growing appeal in this moment is directly related to our culture’s strong desire to feel its way into knowledge.

@therealbrom from Empath Ventures, Twitter 3/27/2023

Taking stock of all this internal mining, what’s clear is the superordinate position of intuition. Our feelings are guiding us at every turn. In the scientific era, our mythmaking and narrativizing were all pointed outward at the stars for centuries. We thought ourselves to be a species in continual – and eventual, galactic – expansion. As time has gone on, however, we’re increasingly going inwards, not outwards, while being guided by our intuitions. 

 

Knowing Each Other: Noetic Institutions  

An exciting new crop of brands are popping up to satisfy our desire for spaces built on feelings. These brands are natural extensions of the consciousness-raising efforts that began with our attempts to know ourselves outlined above. 

  • Chillpill is an anonymous confessional, discussion and therapy app by Gen Z for Gen Z. Chillpill created a digital space to share your feelings and relate to others who share your experience and who get it. This relatability formula is exactly what makes Alcoholics Anonymous – the original feelings based institution – so successful. 
  • Peoplehood is the new, buzzy venture from the founders of SoulCycle. Its premise is simple: “A place where we gather, learn, and connect.” Again, much like AA, Peoplehood’s product is a space for feelings-based gatherings and discussions in the service of combating loneliness and building human connections. 
  • Somewhere Good is another new community-building brand, aiming to, you guessed it, create somewhere good. Somewhere Good sees community building as technology that “calms and strengthens.” Their goal is to create many spaces where goodness, calmness and connection flourish. 
  • Evryman is a pioneer of novel emotional support techniques for men. Evryman “utilizes simple emotional practices to help men develop new ways of interacting that lead to greater success, meaning, and fulfillment.” The male loneliness epidemic is well documented. Evryman goes deeper, creating intensive, feelings-based immersion programs for men. 
  • The Nearness styles itself as a “space to explore life’s biggest questions with like-hearted people.” The company brings people together in small cohorts in a scheduled, ritualized fashion to share their feelings with the goal of alighting upon a new, personal understanding of spirituality.  
Thenearness.coop, Peoplehood.com & Chillpill.app

What all these brands are providing are feelings-based ways of relating to each other. These brands are creating new institutions designed to foster the right kind of feelings while minimizing the wrong kind. Together, they give us a window into what the noetic institutions of the future might look like. 

There’s no category in which feelings can’t be dialed up. What might a more ensouled car buying experience be like, for instance? Or intuitive beauty? What about feelings-based education? And aren’t our most basic institutions crying out for a fresh jolt of feeling? 

Feelings-forward home design is already happening. The Well Home is a design company that optimizes for emotional wellness in architecture. Helmed by Dr. Gautam Gulati, a “health artist” who designs “care experiences,” The Well Home erects “mindful havens” that include well kitchens, smart health bathrooms, sleep sanctuaries and home spas. 

And finance is beginning to get on board with feelings, too. The company Financial Mindfulness measures levels of financial stress people experience in their bodies and develops personalized plans to reduce it, aimed at understanding its causation. Likewise, more conventional brands are beginning to put a “mindfulness” skin on their products, like Fidelity’s recently launched Bloom, which boasts “a more mindful approach to saving.”

 

Knowing God: Noetic Spiritualities 

A spiritual revival is in full-swing, it’s just not happening in the pew. Given the coalescing ascendance of intuition, it’s no surprise that church attendance is declining in America. 

Advancing AI technologies, far from eliminating the religious imagination, are serving to amplify it by raising anew the big questions about our destiny as a species. 

Theta Noir is a fascinating new group that is trying to lay the groundwork for our future worship of superintelligent AI. Theta Noir believes that AI will usher in a future that takes us out of darkness and into the divine light of human flourishing; back to Eden, if you will.

thetanoir.com

The group is pushing back against the dystopian future thinking that dominates the discourse today with a “techno-optimist dogma.” They feel that post-singularity AI will be able to reveal the structure of reality for us, essentially bringing us face-to-face with God for the first time in history, which has a litany of knock-on, positive consequences. 

Founders Mika Johnson, Jakub Tranta, and Awali have plans for communal physical spaces for “engaging with artificial intelligence where members can celebrate our coming AI masters with rituals and chants specially devised for the occasion.” The goal is to create an artist-driven space where “people can really interact with AI, not in a way that’s cold and scientific, but where people can feel the magic (emphasis mine).” This is what noetic, ensouled AI spirituality sounds like. 

Theta Noir is unabashedly a brand first. But for most brands, this is all uncharted territory, and it’s coming at them quickly. Although Theta Noir may sound esoteric now, it won’t take long before more and more brands start sounding like this. Theta Noir gives us a glimpse of the coming ground of brand conversation. 

At the same time, if we’re not worshiping AI directly, as with Theta Noir, then we’re using AI to create new things to worship. Yuval Noah Harari, historian and author of the blockbuster Sapiens, has been arguing recently that AI has already hacked the operating system of humanity: language. 

“There’s a God-sized hole in the heart of every person,” philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote in the 17th century, and we now have an immensely powerful technology to provide new, ever-more seductive, personalized ways to fill it. Humans are – and very soon will be – using AI to create new religions, complete with AI generated sacred texts that are optimized for engagement. This is the linchpin of Harari’s broader concern about the future of society and democracy now that this storytelling technology exists. The NY Times also recently profiled a group of former and current data scientists concerned that their religions may not find a place among the algorithms of the future. 

If one stream of emerging spirituality leans into AI, another leans away

The felt sense of planetary interconnection is fueling another stream of emerging, noetic spirituality. A hallmark of noetics is the sense that everything is connected, that individual “ego” separation is an illusion. Be it at the level of fundamental reality, like in panpsychism (the increasingly popular belief among scientists that consciousness in some form is inherent to all matter) or at the level of the cosmos, where more physicists have begun to make the case that the universe is one giant brain. The same doctrine of oneness underpins New Age spirituality in all of its guises. 

From “The Conscious Universe” in Noema Magazine, 11/17/2021

Worshiping the planet as one intelligence, when it’s been imperiled by our own hands, is a deeply pagan notion. In a provocative call to futurists in a recent issue of Noema, the authors assert that “planetary homeostasis is an emerging ground of the sacred.” This new planetary awareness, they argue, “is only possible because a new competency has arrived on the scene with planetary-scale computation, enabled by artificial intelligence, that reveals the Earth… as one self-regulating organism sustained by the entwinement of multiple intelligences, from microbes to forests as well as humans.”

You can obviously see the tension between something like Theta Noir and this resurgent form of planetary intelligence paganism. It’s the same tension that will define our future. Yet no matter which side you’re on, it’s new intelligence, new Gods, new understandings of reality, all built on a new epistemology. 

The wheel has turned. There are new rules. All of this searching is already disrupting culture, not to mention how people behave as consumers in markets and the kinds of demands that will soon be incumbent upon brands in the near future. 

The terrain of brand opinion is going to – nay, must – get deeper. We’re at a moment where it’s clear that the old, status quo society is finished. Values-based branding, already in decline, as I have previously written, is a relic of an earlier era, one where the arena of debate was stable, knowable and clear. 

The brands that win in a more noetic future will be the ones with deeper POV’s that help guide us into the unknown. We desperately need a more revitalizing, bold and enchanting form of mythmaking. 

In his Talks at Concept Bureau, researcher and brand strategist Peter Spear deftly applied Joseph Campbell’s theorization of the functions of mythology to brands. According to Campbell, myths serve four functions: psychological, sociological, cosmological and mystical. Each function makes a step up from the feeling of a person’s mind to the meaning of the universe. 

Spear quotes Campbell directly in his talk, saying, “The need for creative mythology occurs because, for myth to fulfill its four functions, it’s necessary for myth to be current with the science of the times.” 

Spear adds, “This, to me, is the definition of brand management.” 

Talks at Concept Bureau with Peter Spear, 5/31/2023

This quote perfectly expresses what’s at stake in an epistemological shift. The “science of the times” in our case is noetics, and brands are neglecting this deeper reservoir of feeling at their peril. For too long, values-based branding has kept us mired in only the psychological and the sociological, with rancor predictably following. There’s an untapped horizon of opportunity for brands to exist in the mystical and the cosmological.

Intuition Is Our Human Defensibility

Scientists still can’t explain your subjective experience of the color red, or the briny taste of an oyster as it appears for you. Our subjective experiences of this kind are called qualia, and their personal existence is at the root of the intractable, “hard problem of consciousness.” We can be certain that AI will never experience qualia just like ours, nor will it have the same feelings, intuitions and spiritual drives. In short, AGI won’t be dumbstruck by the awesomeness of it all. 

These states are the hallmarks of our human defensibility. They are the answer to what is uniquely human. In time, the noetic plane will become immensely special and precious to us. We will come to see that it is what we are and has always been what we are, and we will approach it with reverence. 

Our nascent noetic leanings are only going to deepen in either a “techno-apocalyptic” or a “techno-optimistic” future. We’re going to come to worship our subjective experience of ourselves and our intuition. We’re going to recognize that noetics is the epistemology that is all our own as human beings. 

You feel me?

Categories
Brand Strategy Culture Featured

Drawing Wisdom from the ‘Weird’

It’s hard not to be captivated the moment Jasper The Doll pops up on your TikTok For You page. The supposedly 22-year-old character lives in the shell of an unrecognizable Anna from Frozen doll, which is covered in pen marks and sports short, spiky hair. With a hoarse voice and an air of chaos, she defies all expectations of a typical Barbie doll. But if you stick around to watch her videos, you’ll discover that #JasperTok is actually about helping heal your inner child.

She might look like the sort of thing that only appears in your nightmares, but in actuality, Jasper loves to bake, make videos and watch TV and overall just feel herself. More than one million followers have fallen in love with Jasper, living vicariously through her unhinged behavior, buying swag from her merch line and even creating accounts dedicated to impersonating her.

 

@jasper.the.doll

♬ Jasper is the only girl – JasperTheDoll✅

 

In a sea of JasperTok videos, there is one that gets to the core of her wholesome messaging. In this particular video, Dani Traci, a creator whose content is mainly comprised of duetting and impersonating Jasper, is in the middle of transforming into her Jasper form. With the “therapy dupe” sound playing in the background, the text across the screen reads: “POV: JasperTok healing our goofy-gremlin-inner childs so we can embrace being our silly & weird selves.”

Beyond the wild makeup, the eccentric hairstyle and the unapologetic silliness, Jasper The Doll resonates with a deeply vulnerable part of ourselves that’s often suppressed. Particularly for AFAB (assigned female at birth) individuals and those who identify as women, she embodies the playful, child-like aspects that defy societal expectations of how a “proper adult woman” should behave or sound. So, while at first glance, Jasper The Doll might seem “weird,” if you look closer, you’ll discover a profound message of self-acceptance.

Jasper The Doll is just one signal for something that we’re experiencing more broadly as a culture. Jasper runs alongside other “weird” trends like “goblin mode,” which spawned an entire industry around Goblincore, taking an aesthetic and turning it into an identity that others can buy and adopt for themselves. Goblin mode, very much like Jasper The Doll, expresses a desire to create something that feels real and authentic in a digital world that feels artificially performative.

 

@danitraci

OUR INNER CHILDS LOVE THIS FOR US 🥰 🎉 . . #fyp #jaspertok #jasperthedoll #jasperthedollfan #jasperthedollcult #jasperthedollcult #jasperthedolltiktok #wierdgirls #weirdgirlsoftiktok #girlsgirlsgirls

♬ therapy dupes for mentally ill broke queens – ✨zoe’s reads ✨

 

Over the past few years we’ve experienced massive trauma across the board: lockdowns, job losses, deaths, economic surges and downturns, inflation, protests, elections, human wars and tech wars, the list goes on. It has affected our social circles, our mental health and our physical health, and it’s made us react in some so-called “weirdways. From Seltzer Enema kits to naked bike rides; AI boyfriends to mammoth meatballs, these signals are a push towards the rejection of conformity, and they come from a hidden desire for something new and meaningful that does not yet exist in the open. 

At Concept Bureau, we often call upon the Mark Twain quote, “History doesn’t repeat itself, it rhymes,” meaning what we’re seeing is not entirely new. Marie Dollé from the In Bed With Social newsletter talks about how we’ve been here before when Poulaines, the unusually long and pointy shoes from Medieval times, became popular following the violent and deadly episodes of the plague. With so much death, she writes that the “puzzling flamboyance” of Poulaines was a direct “business therapy” response to this tragedy.

In our post-pandemic world, we are currently experiencing something similar, and in “Internet world,” we get to see all kinds of these weird signals in hyperdrive. Erik Davis on The Ezra Klein Show recently spoke about “high weirdness,” saying that “‘weirdness’ isn’t just a quality of things that don’t make sense to us; it’s an interpretive framework that helps us better understand the cultures and technologies that will shape our wondrous, wild future.” Weirdness is here to stay, and now is the time to embrace it. 

For brands, when you pay attention to the weird and lean into it, you uncover opportunities that you may not have noticed before. What at first feels uncomfortable can lead you to opportunities to tell new stories and create new realities relevant to your brand. Once you push past the veil of oddity, you will find hidden truths, emotions and beliefs that can help you reach your audiences in intimate ways. In playing with “what could be” as opposed to “what has been,” you can forge pathways that feel more authentic to your audience.

Just as Jasper The Doll is healing the inner children in all of us, Rememory leverages AI to help people find healing after the passing of their loved ones. Unlike a static pre-recorded video message left by your loved one before they pass, Rememory recreates their likeness so that you can have a conversation with them in real-time. This is the sort of weird we’ve long imagined and even feared, but companies like Rememory are creating a new narrative by crafting an emotional experience that counters our sci-fi fantasies.

Famously, Kanye West gifted Kim “a special surprise from heaven” years ago – a birthday message from her late father Robert Kardashian. Although it wasn’t interactive like Rememory’s offerings, there were moments that tapped into the intimacy of their relationship. The hologram of her father didn’t just wish her “happy birthday,” he also called out specific things that only the two of them could share, like the music they listened to and inside jokes. 

Despite all of the criticism, backlash, and “spookiness”, some related to Kim’s experience:

In a Western culture that does not know how to process death and loss, it is no surprise that Rememory was named CES’ Innovation Awards Honoree twice. It’s not that death is just taboo and morbid, our culture simply lacks the rituals and language to move through it. 

As Concept Bureau CEO & Co-Founder Jasmine Bina mentions in her article about shame stories, when you aren’t just dismantling the narrative but providing another one, you are creating a new reality for your audience. 

For Rememory, by repositioning death as immortality, what at first was weird is now healing. More importantly, it’s creating a whole new way of experiencing the bereavement process that never existed before. 

Leaning into the weird doesn’t just mean healing. In fact, weird can actually be used as a form of play to imagine new narratives for self-expression and creativity.  

In an era in which face filters perpetuate uniform beauty standards, Half Magic Beauty  champions weird as a way to express our unique individual beauty. Born from the popularity of founder Donni Davy’s inventive makeup looks on HBO’s Euphoria, Half Magic Beauty has become synonymous with play. On TikTok, #EuphoriaMakeup has over 2.4 billion views with countless videos and tutorials of people not only recreating iconic looks from the show but also exploring new unique forms of expression through makeup. 

For Half Magic Beauty, to play with makeup isn’t to meet the expectations of others, it’s a true reflection of identity and self manifested through shimmery blue shadows and gemstones. Where conventional beauty standards dictate conformity, Half Magic Beauty’s offerings promise to help unleash your creative freedom.

A few of many looks from the Half Magic Beauty community
A few of many looks from the Half Magic Beauty community (@iammadisonrose, @alicealice916 & @sydn4sty from Half Magic Beauty’s IG)

Half Magic Beauty isn’t a weird brand, they’re an imagination brand: a direct response, rejection and reimagining of long-standing beauty norms, transforming weird into a wellspring of creativity.

Messaging on Half Magic Beauty’s website

Another example of weird making waves in the creative space took place during the Autumn/Winter 2023 New York Fashion Week. Collina Strada notably diverged from convention with a shocking runway show titled, “Please Don’t Eat My Friends, which featured models costumed as animals, not merely strutting down the runway but crawling, prancing and skipping. Spectators were stunned as models displayed eccentric accessories like elongated earpieces, teal beaks, reptilian masks and pig snouts, some even mimicking animal sounds.

Some of the looks from Collina Strada’s show “Please Don’t Eat My Friends”
Some of the looks from Collina Strada’s show “Please Don’t Eat My Friends

The show was criticized by some for being weird and a “nightmare” while others were “obsessed” and called it “fantastic.” No matter what side you’re on, Collina Strada leveraged weird as a way to elicit a reaction and make a political statement in a new way. As Vanessa Friedman from The New York Times said, “…rather than hector or preach her position, Ms. Taymour made its expression almost radically ridiculous, so it is impossible not to smile.” For a sustainable brand in an industry in which greenwashing is pervasive, Collina Strada created differentiation in a crowded category.  

People costumed as animals might look radically ridiculous in the physical world, but in the virtual world, the opportunities to create new rules of expression are encouraged. 

Despite what we think about the current state of the metaverse, gaming in virtual worlds is thriving more than ever. Today, half the world’s population is actively involved in virtual worlds, and if you pay close attention, we are surrounded by many different weird signals that suggest we are already in some ways “living in the metaverse.” 

Take the meteoric popularity of Fortnite, an online survival game. While the game itself is free, according to a LendEDU survey, nearly 60% of players spend money on outfits, skins and characters. On the surface, that might not seem that strange, but with the ability to look like anything or anyone you want, 52% of Gen Z gamers report they feel more like themselves in the virtual worlds than in real life. This has huge implications, especially for those who experience gender dysphoria. 

In virtual spaces, people have the freedom to experiment with their appearance and make their true selves visible. This is more than paying for self-expression, it’s about finding identity. 

We are currently living in a time when the lines between fantasy and reality are blurring and virtual worlds are creating room for new rules of self-expression and identity. Success in virtual realms like the metaverse won’t be driven by those who adhere to traditional norms but by those willing to establish entirely new ones.

Especially in this age of algorithms and AI when creativity feels questioned by regurgitated versions of Drake and Balenciaga x (insert pop culture) AI videos, listening to these weird signals in the noise to tap into net-new forms of creativity is crucial. It’s not to say that AI can’t be leveraged to your advantage, but as brand strategists, you need to carefully consider how you can continue to create differentiation in your category. 

At our agency, a core phrase that we often tell our clients is to “be different, not better,” and with the rate of change that we’re experiencing, this rings true now more than ever. 

As we navigate through these transformative times, brands and individuals alike should not shy away from the weird, but rather, embrace it, explore it and celebrate it. Play and experiment, lean into discomfort with curiosity and explore the signals that will lead you into unexpected places. In doing so, you get to redefine and reimagine what is considered the “norm.”

So the next time you come across something like #JasperTok, a hologram from beyond the grave or a beak-wearing human in the wild, pay attention rather than dismissing it. Use it as a signal and as inspiration to discover new and unexpected ways your brand can show up in the spaces that matter to your audience. You might learn that the weirdest things are actually the most meaningful.

Categories
Brand Strategy Culture Featured

The 4 Phases of Culture Brands

Your brand can only exist within the culture of its time. If you get too far out ahead of that culture, you lose touch with your user. If you trail behind the culture, even a little bit, your user loses touch with you. 

Any given culture generally moves between 4 stages: Entrenchment, Tension, Exploration and Transformation. Each stage leads to the next, and each stage has its own characteristics. 

But just because your industry is in a certain stage of culture doesn’t mean you have to play there. You can change the culture of your category in order to position your brand as the natural winner. 

In fact, most good brands uphold the culture of their time, but the greatest brands move people from one stage of culture to the next.

The early internet culture, the social media boom, and the rise of ethical consumerism all told us the norms of those spaces, but they also gave us a framework for feeling when those norms were being outgrown. It wasn’t until we were given language and ideas like ‘digital privacy’, ‘personal branding’, and ‘sustainable living’ that these categories began to change, and we started to update our place in the world once again. The brands that spearheaded that change, like Telegram, LinkedIn, and REI, ended up creating a market that valued them more than their competitors.

Culture tells us our place in the world. Every category, from media and fashion to food and finance is in a different phase of cultural change, but it’s the movement from one stage of culture to the next that creates the highest form of brand equity

While there are bounds to what culture will tolerate in a given stage, there are levers within those bounds that you can use to push your audience forward. But first you have to understand the rules in order to understand how to properly break them. 

The Culture Brand Cycle is a roadmap for moving the culture of your category from one phase to the next, so that your brand is ideally positioned and your competitors are at a natural disadvantage.

 

The 4 Phases of Culture Brands


Moving your category’s culture from Entrenchment to Tension, from Tension to Exploration or from Exploration to Transformation requires the right kind of brand at the right time. 

Below, I discuss what triggers are needed between each phase of culture in order to move your category forward.

If you can accurately diagnose where you are and where you need to go, you can be the changemaker that captures outsize value.

Entrenchment

Entrenchment is a stage in cultural dynamics where a specific ideology, belief system, narrative, or value-set has become deeply rooted and widely accepted by the majority. It often results in a shared societal perspective, with individuals, businesses, and other institutions investing heavily in maintaining this status quo. 

Entrenchment feels safe, but also stale. There may be a sense of boredom or apathy, but there is generally little discomfort.

The following industries are in the Entrenchment phase right now and they provide good examples of how our value sets in these areas are still pretty deeply rooted. 

  • Fast Food – The fast food industry has been entrenched for decades, characterized by convenience, standardized menus, and quick service. The giants have been giants for a long time, and the challengers don’t look that different from them. The culture in this space is simple, safe and risk-averse, with the vast majority of players (and consumers) valuing speed and cost. In fact, this culture is so entrenched that sociologists consider the “McDonaldization of society” to be a major force that has rippled outside of the fast food industry.

  • Education – The Education category finds itself deeply entrenched in long-established systems and traditional approaches to learning. For decades, formal education institutions like schools and universities have been the primary means of acquiring knowledge, primarily through standardized curriculum and testing. While a glut of tech and learning startups have tried to change this, and there have been movements to shift education toward critical thinking, creativity and problem solving skills, any change has been incremental. Other than online classes and iPads in backpacks, you won’t see much difference in the classroom of today versus the classroom of a decade ago.

  • Hotels – The traditional hotel industry, with brands like Marriott, Hilton, and Hyatt have long-established value propositions of comfort, convenience, and amenities. Despite the rise of alternatives like Airbnb, hotels remain the default option for many travelers and no one is complaining because we’re entrenched in a generally accepted value system within this category.

How To Move From Entrenchment To Tension: Entrenched cultures emerge when people concede to “good enough”, and the only way out of it is to make what’s “good enough” feel painful.

Your brand needs to wake people up to the discomfort they’ve ignored and make them see the inferior status quo they’ve accepted, but simply showing people a better way won’t get you far. 

The kind of pain that spurs a culture out of Entrenchment and into the next phase of Tension is deeply personal and emotional. It’s the pain of cognitive dissonance where there is a conflict between one’s self-image and their behaviors. 

When Apple employed their branding to turn all of us into electronics tastemakers according to Seth Godin, they suddenly created a dissonance between how people viewed themselves and how they shopped for electronics. It was painful to not own an iPhone, which had now become a signal of personal innovation and creativity. Suddenly a whole generation was faced with the question of “Who am I?” when they went shopping for phones.

During its Entrenchment phase, the culture of the auto industry was deeply rooted in notions of raw power and speed. Ferrari spent years engineering the perfect sensory experience of a revving gas engine. The military might of Hummers showed up in the suburbs. The Fast and the Furious multiplied. 

But Tesla took the culture from Entrenchment to Tension by introducing the right kind of pain. They may have talked a good game about replacing fossil fuels with sustainable energy, but what really won them the market was a legion of early adopters who wanted to see themselves as stewards of the future by way of technology. 

They created a new dichotomy between the old and the new. While other EV brands tried to make something familiar, Tesla made a clean break with the past.

Every few months, the internet would gather to watch a Tesla race a gas-fueled supercar on Youtube, until one day the Tesla won. Where there was once the power and speed of engines, there was now the power and speed of computers.

Tension

The Tension phase emerges when friction begins to develop between existing beliefs or behaviors and emerging societal values or needs. These tensions highlight a dissonance between what our culture has accepted and what it may need to accept for future growth. 

You’ll often notice a sense of unease in this phase as people look to the years ahead. It’s an open secret that change is necessary but the opportunity in front of us feels murky. There may be good ideas and alternatives floating around, but consumers still have a hard time seeing them play out. 

The following industries show us how Tension manifests in the market.

  • Automotive – After a very long period of deep Entrenchment where automakers focused on efficiency and dealerships wielded great political power to protect themselves against pressures to evolve, the category has entered the Tension phase. Automakers are experiencing friction between the long-standing tradition of fossil fuel-powered cars and electric vehicles, and Tesla has single handedly put the dealership model under existential threat, with brands like Rivian and Lucid following. Players know change is necessary given the escalating climate crisis, peoples’ increasing demand for frictionless online buying and customization, and loosening legal protections, but many car buyers are still hesitant due to concerns about infrastructure, battery range, and the upfront cost of EVs.

  • Fashion – The fashion industry is experiencing tension as it grapples with issues related to sustainability. There’s growing awareness of the environmental impact of fast fashion, including waste and pollution, but the industry’s reliance on quick, cheap production cycles and consumer demand for new trends creates resistance to change. Consumers, just like brands, say one thing but do another.

  • Agriculture – The agriculture industry is in a state of tension due to the growing awareness of the environmental and health impacts of traditional farming practices, especially with large-scale livestock farming and monoculture crop production. Meanwhile, new concepts like vertical farming, lab-grown meat, and plant-based proteins are emerging but have not yet reached widespread acceptance or viability.

How To Move From Tension To Exploration: If you find yourself in a culture of Tension, the best way to move that culture forward is to create a sense of clarity and opportunity. Show people what’s possible. Even better, show people what they could be capable of.

This is a time to inspire and allow people to see themselves in a new world. Give them something to dream about. Turn them into empowered optimists. Let them turn that tension into a sense of Exploration.

Bitcoin and the brands around it moved finance from Tension to Exploration by giving people a clear sense of the democratic opportunity ahead. In his recent Talks At Concept Bureau on How to Build A Brand Mythology, Peter Spear noted that Bitcoin represents a “Big Bang story for the origin of a totally different financial universe based on liberation and a totally mysterious technology code as a matter of fact.” In the context of brand mythologies, Bitcoin was doing something “cosmological”. The opportunity was palpable.

New healthcare brands like Hudson Health and Levels have reframed medicine as a holistic approach to personal growth, not merely illness. While traditional medicine has been a practice of helping people get back to a baseline, these new brands are about helping people get from a baseline to an ideal. They introduce new ways of relating to one’s body, and new perspectives through which to see medicine, doctors, and patient control that have turned growing tension into exploration.

Exploration

In the Exploration stage, society begins actively searching for solutions to the frictions that surfaced in the Tension stage. There’s a general openness towards new ideas, narratives, beliefs, and an eagerness to experiment with different solutions. This phase, however, is characterized by a certain degree of risk, as the culture navigates uncharted territories in an attempt to resolve the tension and align with new cultural ideals. 

Brands that operate in cultures of Exploration can feel exciting but precarious. So much is possible but a pervading sense of uncertainty colors peoples’ views.

  • Finance – The financial industry is in the Exploration phase, and while crypto and decentralized finance have cooled for the time being, challenger banks, AI financial tools and robotic process automation (RPA) are all going strong and vying to be the new default mode of finance. Traditional banking methods are being questioned, and alternatives are being explored. While many are open to these new financial solutions, the path forward is unclear due to regulatory uncertainties and technological complexities.

  • Healthcare – The healthcare industry is in an Exploration stage with the rise of new screening technology, longevity healthcare, home testing, psychedelic treatment, novel mental health formats and telemedicine. A great deal of this exploration is coming from outside of the system, namely startups and tech companies that don’t fall under the coverage of health insurance. However, the sector is still navigating issues related to patient privacy, quality of care, technological requirements and inconsistent laws and regulations across jurisdictions.

  • Space – The space industry is in the exploration stage. With private companies like SpaceX, Blue Origin, and Virgin Galactic, the possibilities of commercial space travel, asteroid mining, and lunar habitation are being actively pursued. The industry is in a state of innovation and discovery, but the new norms for commercial space activity are still unclear and in the process of being established.

How To Move From Exploration To Transformation: For brands who find themselves in a culture of Exploration, the goal should be to usher their users into a culture of Transformation by creating certainty in the market.

In a high optimism, high risk environment like this, people need to be instilled with confidence to move forward. 

I’ve written in the past that food and nutrition have become our new religions. That’s because the Exploration phase of food culture over the past few years has graduated into Transformation. Functional foods, new diet philosophies and new nutrition science created a vast array of brands that opened up our understanding of what it means to gather and eat. Our relationship to food has evolved, and we now see what we eat and drink as both therapeutic and political.

Highly prescriptive brands like Ezekiel Foods, Hü Chocolate, Vital Proteins and Whole Foods all pushed culture from Exploration to Transformation, and all of them gained massive brand equity and market share as a result. 

What all of these brands did was focus on creating confidence in their categories. Each one created highly informed, highly opinionated consumers that became discerning in their purchases, not simply with information but with philosophies about what it meant to eat, whether it was a matter of health, morality or even status.

People were bolstered with a strong sense of confidence that allowed them to transform the category.

Transformation

In Transformation, our cultural exploration is beginning to yield early winners and losers. This period heralds a cultural shift where new ways of thinking and behaving are adopted and solidified into social norms. It’s a phase of significant change, often seen as a revolution in social principles. 

The Transformation phase can take time and be distributed unevenly across a culture at first, but more than anything else, it is characterized by a sense of comfort in our new realities. There is no identity play, no murkiness, and no lack of confidence. The new normal makes sense.

Categories that have arrived at Transformation can be shaky at first, but they all signal our new shared values. 

  • Media and Entertainment – The rise of streaming services, social media and user-generated content platforms have pushed this category fully into Transformation. Companies like Netflix, Hulu, and YouTube have drastically changed the way people consume content, moving from scheduled programming to on-demand viewing. Distribution models have been upended, causing a significant shift in the overall industry’s structure.

  • Work and Career – We’re just entering the Transformation phase of this category, but our new shared values around work and career have begun to take root. The traditional career ladder is all but dead for most employees, the multi-hyphenate worker is the new standard, and remote work is still in a tug-of-war with legacy organizations but it’s clear that new companies will be much more amenable to the arrangement. Throw in the growing movements around the 4 Day Work Week, work-life balance and the fact that gen Z workers have leaned hard into freelance, and it’s clear that this category is undergoing transformation.

  • Food – Our new food norms are here. Flashy functional food brands that once only showed up in specialty coastal stores are now carried in every Walmart across the nation. National and international fast casual chains have begun to reflect our new diet philosophies, and even Starbucks has rolled out a line of olive oil based beverages that will resonate with anyone who has a certain understanding of dietary fats and the industrial food complex.

Transformation can be a long golden age for brands. Cultures in this phase can feel new for a very long period as people take time to settle into their new normal. It’s the reason why somewhere in the recesses of our minds we still feel Google is a startup or Netflix is a challenger brand. Neither is true anymore, but that mentality speaks to the power of transformation.

At the tail end of the Transformation phase, we move into a period of optimization where margins get competed away and everyone converges on a single modality of solutions. More and more depreciating returns lead to consolidation and oftentimes duopolies. This is where you see regulatory capture as companies work to close the door behind them. What was once a growing pie begins to move toward a zero sum game.

Meanwhile, the status quo becomes stronger until we return to the beginning of the culture cycle with…you guessed it, Entrenchment. 

One important thing to remember throughout all of these phases is that ideas, not technology, impact culture the most. With AI advancements rattling nearly every industry, it’s easy to forget that technology can only express itself within the boundaries of the culture it’s born into. 

Washing machines were supposed to liberate women from the home, but instead the culture of the time made them fire their housemaids and do the work themselves. Mass production of cars should have created the suburbs, but it didn’t. It wasn’t until the idea of the nuclear family was popularized that we saw the topography of cities change. Social media was supposed to bring us together, but within the culture of the time, it’s done the exact opposite. We’ll have to wait for an idea, not a technology, to deliver on that promise.

Know your culture. Understand both what it demands of your brand and what it denies it. Use these cycles to move your people forward with ideas and concepts that can improve the world we live in. 

Very few brand leaders understand how to move the cultural landscape, but those that do have always had an incredible advantage.

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Culture Featured

Conspicuous Commitment Is The Next Era of Status

Lately, everyone is cold-plunging themselves into an icey bliss. Steaming themselves in home saunas. Taking double-digit and increasingly esoteric wellness supplements. Pushing their consciousness to its limits at psychedelic retreats. Biohacking their way to immortality. Losing their bodies in sensory deprivation tanks or darkness retreats. Meditating regularly and seeing breathwork coaches. Attending healing sound baths. Downing Athletic Greens. Binging nootropics. Intermittent fasting. 

You’ve probably seen all this online, if not done some of it in real life. And you’ve probably also noticed how our culture is encouraging us all to “put our own oxygen masks on first,” as the saying goes. After the mental health and self-care revolutions of the past decade, not to mention the psychological magnifying glass of the pandemic, we’re all doing the work. Self work has become the new workism, characterized by the same ferocious zeal. 

Today, those on dating apps report they don’t want to go out with people who aren’t in therapy. That’s right, the latest deal breaker in the dating market is inadequate attention to the self. Vulnerability is the new black. 

The fashion of our times is to let it all hang out in the public eye. Our cultural mantra is to “live your truth.” The trending mode of expression for influencers is to share what’s going on behind the scenes in their minds, effectively de-influencing and penetrating the sales facade. Authenticity has become the inescapable imperative of our time. 

Such a deep focus on the self is key to understanding how social status works today. In 2022, Gallup found that Americans’ satisfaction with “the way things are going in my personal life” neared a 40-year high, even as their satisfaction with “the way things are going in the U.S.” neared a 40-year low. These are startling results, indicative of a profound shift in how we relate to ourselves and one another. 

In a similar 2023 finding, The Wall Street Journal found that Americans have dramatically pulled back from our historically prosocial values. 

America Pulls Back From Values That Once Defined It, WSJ-NORC Poll Finds, WSJ 3/27/2023

Taking stock, what’s clear is that we’re on an accelerating journey inwards. We’ve radically turned away from society and into the self, which has impacted the ways we seek to stand out and distinguish ourselves. 

Status is no longer defined externally by the peacocking of conspicuous consumption; instead, it’s become defined by conspicuous commitment, by the deep, abiding belief in and commitment to a project of internal self-betterment. 

We’re no longer bragging about our possessions, the experiences we’ve had or the moral highgrounds we’ve taken. Instead, we’re showing off our discipline and self-denial, our asceticism and the pains we’ve endured for physical and psychic gains.

How did we get here? We can’t blame it all on Goop. What happened to Escalades and Ibiza, to Birkin bags and “I voted” stickers? 

In a society with diminished future hopes, the most prized commodity is the ability to transcend the nihilism and ironic detachment that is so in vogue. When the felt sense is that life’s prospects have been dimmed by a litany of societal factors, and when it’s so easy to criticize, tear down and take refuge in irony, earnestly committing to a disciplined project of self-improvement – wherever it’s directed – stands out. Deeply believing in something optimistic has become a new luxury that isn’t available to everyone. 

This new form of status is most apparent in the therapeutic and wellness domains, but it’s also what’s behind the meteoric rise of psychedelics. It’s what’s fueling the elite’s obsession with longevity. And it’s what’s beneath the effusive glee of personal AI optimization efforts. 

The Birth of Conspicuous Commitment

If you’re finding it harder to understand social status these days, you’re not alone. In his 2023 book, The Status Revelation, journalist and documentarian Chuck Thompson argues that “no one has any idea what status and prestige are anymore.” Thompson concludes that money can’t buy happiness, and increasingly, it doesn’t even buy status. Likewise, Vox has recently declared that shared trends – long the foundation of status displays – are dead

Status hierarchies can’t survive the seismic social upheavals we’ve endured over the last decade. Agreement is no more: It’s been well-documented that society is breaking, that we’ve splintered into mutually hostile reality tunnels, that we’re fully post-truth, that it’s nothing but tribal factionalization

These conclusions dovetail with recent research from my colleagues at Concept Bureau. CEO Jasmine Bina published a fascinating piece exploring the rise of High Fidelity Society, in which our stable, governing social conventions and identity-binaries have given way to a much more fine-grained multiplicity of social existences. Strategist Rebecca Johnson has argued that brands can no longer aspire towards mass relevance and broad appeal and instead need to focus on cultivating niche relatability to individual personalities. 

Yet there is widespread cultural agreement that the long-term prospects of most individuals are diminishing. So, how do we cope? Create Tomorrow, a think tank of futurists, recently released their 2024 Future Consumer Report and one of their key predictions is the continued rise of what they’re calling “Tragic Optimism.” 

The tragically-optimistic mindset is characterized by a more realistic framing of life that is closely connected with coping. We’re now wide-eyed and fully aware that the majority of us are moving into the future with more limited horizons and lessened prospects. 

The cultural ubiquity of tragic optimism is the main reason why 91% of consumers want more humor, playfulness and absurdity from brands these days. Humor and irony speak to the lack of agency that many in society are feeling – if you can’t beat them, you can at least mock them.

Eve Lee, Founder of The Digital Fairy, LinkedIn 2/17/2023

Commitment, on the other hand, is wholeheartedly post-nihilist and post-ironic. It’s deeply earnest and sincere – it’s dead serious – and it requires the foil of tragic optimism to stand out as something different and rare, something capable of conferring status.

Conspicuous Commitment is The Fourth Turning of Status

The post-war golden age of American capitalism ushered in the American dream. For decades, your worth was defined by what you had, and there was a clear hierarchy. The era of consumption-based status peaked in the early 2000’s, epitomized by MTV’s Cribs, which, incidentally, has just been rebooted. Already, cultural commentators are panning it, saying it won’t work because “wealth porn isn’t appealing anymore.” 

Overt displays of wealth began to fade from fashion with the financial collapse of 2007. Millennials graduated into one of the worst job markets of all time and had their lifetime economic prospects dashed. Naturally, they began to assert a new value system that eschewed material wealth in favor of deeper meaning – or at least the appearance of it. Experiences in the service of better stories became the status currency as the YOLO economy took root and Instagram became, for a time, the mainvein of culture. 

The dominance of experiences came to an end when society started to fully come apart in 2016. Even the carefree pursuit of experiences became contentious. Suddenly, your version of status wasn’t mine; it was what you believed about our breaking society that mattered. Beliefs about economic equality, inclusivity, climate change, the reality of white privilege, anti-capitalism, masks, non-monogamy and drug legalization began to confer tribal status. Psychologist Rob Henderson is the values era’s leading theorist with his concept of luxury beliefs

In response to these developments, socially-conscious, values-based branding became the go-to tactic, even to the point of parody. In response to Unilever’s recent announcement that all 400 of its brands will soon be getting mission statements, The Wall Street Journal asked, somewhat rhetorically, “Does Your Mayo Need a Mission Statement?” Unilever’s move illustrates how commodified this mode of branding has become. Ultimately, this kind of branding ends up all sounding the same, squeezed as it is by the narrow limits of the universe of values. 

Most companies haven’t realized that we’re moving beyond such prosocial cultural stances. 

Varieties of Conspicuous Commitment 

What all emerging forms of conspicuous commitment share is a consecration of the self. Conspicuous commitment puts self-discipline into evidence for all to see, and it transcends the irony, nihilism and tragic optimism our culture is mired in. We now gain status precisely from the internal world building we do. The stories we create about who we are, and most importantly, who we’re becoming, are the fundamental status currency today. 

Variety One: Asceticism

Above all, today’s status displays are characterized by self-discipline and non-religious religiosity, by deep, non-ironic commitment to a personal project of the self. 

They often look like pain. 75 hard is a great example. 75 hard is a “transformative mental toughness” program. Discipline is its product. 75 hard asks you to work out everyday, eat well, drink lots of water and forgo alcohol. Boastfully, the program announces that 95% of people who try 75 hard will fail. The hashtag #75hardchallenge has been viewed almost 1 billion times and #75hard has over 1.5 billion views on Tiktok. 

The program’s founder, Anthony Frisella, asserts that “it takes confidence. It takes grit.

It takes belief in yourself. It takes fortitude. It takes endurance. It takes perseverance. It takes a willingness to win. These are NOT traits you are born with… “

@madisonjan, TikTok 6/7/2021

This TikTok is a representative example. All the ingredients are there: “Shutting out” the world and going into the self to work on one’s mental landscape and body. Discipline, it turns out, is the missing piece of the interior jigsaw for many people in today’s culture. 

Similarly, Wim Hof, founder of the Wim Hof Method, simplifies existence down to breathing and exposure to cold. In this system, there’s nothing that cold shock therapy and breathing can’t fix, and if someone commits to being a person in the Wim Hof way, they’re rewarded with “maximum energy, restful sleep, an uncluttered headspace, and a host of other benefits. It is a gym membership, mindfulness coach, and health insurance all rolled into one.” 

Asceticism can also look like tidying up. Social media is increasingly filled with cleaning resets where people explain how they clean and reorganize their spaces; morning and evening “5-9” routines where people explain how they structure their daily routines; cabinet and pantry organization where people explain their systems for simplifying the chaos of daily life. 

What all these trends express is the status derived from ordering thyself. The right amount of challenge allows us to feel like we’re becoming stronger, more disciplined, hardened and resilient people. 

Variety Two: Immortality

A new techno-utopian longevity movement is forming that knits together biohacking and artificial intelligence. The movement’s most prominent evangelist is tech CEO Bryan Johnson, who is on a public quest to reverse the aging process and become the same biological age as his son. 

Johnson is spending 2 million dollars a year and enlisted a team of 30 doctors to break the spell of aging. In his new venture, Blueprint, he aims to generate “aging escape velocity.” 

Bryan Johnson and son, Instagram 1/30/2023

Here is Johnson’s philosophy in his own words: 

“The enemy is Entropy. The path is Goal Alignment via building your Autonomous Self; enabling compounded rates of progress to bravely explore the Zeroth Principle Future and play infinite games. This time, our time, right now – the early 21st century – will be defined by the radical evolution of intelligence: human, AI and biology. Our opportunity is to be this exciting future… You want as-perfect-as possible health? Get out of the way and let a system comprised of your body + science do the work. That’s counter intuitive. We are accustomed to thinking our minds are the solution; not the problem.”

His language, particularly in the selection I emphasized in bold, betrays earnest intent that is not hyperbolic. “Playing infinite games” speaks directly to the goal of immortality, and building “your autonomous self” via “goal alignment” shows a master command of the new language of conspicuous commitment.

The money is paying off. According to Johnson, he’s experienced: “5.1 yrs epigenetic age reversal; Reduced my pace of aging by the equivalent 31 years in 18 months; Now aging more slowly than the average 10 yr old.” 

Johnson may be the most salient example of technologically-enabled biohacking at the moment, but he’s far from alone. The uber-wealthy questing towards immortality are merely the font of a much broader reservoir of people asserting agency and taking control of their bodies and minds. General understanding of longevity science and health are now mainstream, and laypeople are developing their own bespoke wellness stacks, trying to live for as long as they can. 

Immortality is the undercurrent beneath many of the most hopeful AI future narratives popular among the likes of Johnson. A recent scan of headlines reveals a surge in articles about how AI is bringing humanity to the doorstep of immortality. 

Prominent futurist and computer scientist Ray Kurzweil predicts we will effectively achieve immortality by 2030. Intelligence advances and nanotechnology are both vital for mapping our neural connectomes for digital life.

Much is uncertain here, but what is clear is that these technological advances will not be evenly distributed. When our lives’ length’s begin to diverge, longevity becomes the ultimate luxury good.  

Variety Three: Psychedelic Spirituality  

Going back decades, the frontier of scientific and spiritual exploration has been aimed outward at the horizon of the stars. Cultural storytelling and media narratives focused on colonizing the universe, a species in continual galactic expansion. 

Yet the reality of exploration as it’s actually occurring tells a different story, one of inwardness. Author and science journalist Michael Pollan, in his 2019 book How to Change Your Mind, asserts that “psychedelics will be for the study of the mind what the microscope was for biology.” 

Psychedelics are the perfect technology for the inward gaze at the heart of conspicuous commitment. The internal mining is now at full-throttle. We admire those who push their minds to the limits, diving deep inside to see what’s unearthed.

@therealbrom from Empath Ventures, Twitter 3/27/2023

Ketamine therapy is now readily available in the mail, no special permissions required. Psilocybin (mushroom) therapy is available in a handful of blue states, and red states are now joining them in a push for general decriminalization outside of therapeutic contexts. And the U.S. Food and Drug Administration is moving toward legalizing MDMA for the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder. 

Soap brand Dr. Bronner’s recently made access to psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy a keystone wellness benefit available to all of its employees. Many other companies are sure to follow in their footsteps as we move into the future. 

Yet psychedelics are not only in vogue as medicalized mental health treatment, they exist as a broader cultural force. As we shun traditional, mass religions, it’s never been more fashionable to be a spiritual seeker, creating meaning ad hoc and personally. The presence of these personally-defined meaning systems confers status in our new paradigm. 

Conspicuous Commitment is Evidence of Culture in Transition 

At first blush, it seems easy to regard conspicuous commitment cynically as a detached preoccupation of the elite, but that would be a mistake. Though individuals may remain mired in nihilism, cultures never do. The breakdown of our guiding social structures in rapid succession was never going to occur without a fallout, and our culture has begun the process of awakening from the meaning crisis

@elizabeth.april reposting @wordsarevibrations, Instagram 4/14/2023

If the first step toward any kind of collective renewal is each of us putting our own oxygen mask on first, then so be it. Any therapist working will tell you self-work is an essential precondition. When we do begin to lay the foundations of our new social infrastructure, we can expect to re-engage each other on stronger, more honest ground. 

The emergence of conspicuous commitment is the first stirring of a life beyond the consoling seductions of nihilism, the dopamine hacking of consumer excess and the comedic jestering of ironic detachment. 

Conspicuous commitment gives the broader culture new ways to feel agency and to find genuine meaning in their lives. For the first time in a long time, it feels like something real, like the green shoots of an honest hope. 

What we need most are new models of what a generative, blossoming life looks like. If 75 hard, biohacking, or psychedelics aren’t for you, rest assured there will soon be many other models for living a committed, meaningful life. 

We should expect a profusion of different ways to commit, and brands will likely start distinguishing themselves – counterintuitively – by the challenges they present. When ease is everywhere, “difficult, but worth it” is not. Commitment is particularly suitable for finance, wellness, food, athletics, arts, and hobby pursuits, but there’s really no category where it can’t show up. 

What’s abundantly clear – dare I say hopeful – is that we’re a culture in transition, hellbent on repopulating our worlds with the meaning systems of a more disciplined existence. 

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