A Guide to Defending Your Industry
In Fortune, Dan Primack wrote a defense of Silicon Valley:
[W]hat about the countless networking and software companies that are, at their core, trying to improve the efficacy of communications? You know, that little human endeavor that in past generations has resulted in everything from the printing press to the carrier pigeon to the telephone to the Amber Alert? Are those efforts disposable, just because some may be quixotic or callous?
This, it turns out, is a helpful template for defending practically any industry.
Big Pharma is easy to bash with broad strokes, but that doesn’t mean we should.
Big Pharma is teeming with ill-mannered bros whose childhood participation trophies have led them to boast about how their mediocre drugs will change the world. It’s insufferable. Big Pharma is also full of sincere geniuses who wake up every day to work hard on solving serious problems that could indeed change the world. It’s inspiring.
Both of these Big Pharmas exist. Or, rather, they co-exist. And often the dichotomy blurs. For some reason, however, this complexity is being ignored with increasing regularity, in favor of black-and-white caricatures that would be more appropriate in John Oliver’s rant on Big Pharma than in media analysis of the actual industry.
To be sure, I understand the impulse to bash with broad strokes. Particularly as an East Coaster who reads medical sites that drool over new drug treatments as if they’re dying of xeroderma. But for every Viagra or Solvadi that is cited as emblematic of Big Pharma’s vapidness or greed, there is a researcher like Ian Frazer that is developing medicine to help prevent the outbreak of deadly diseases. Is Frazer’s HPV vaccine not solving a “big” enough problem? If successful, does it not “matter?”
Or what about the countless pharmaceutical and bioengineering companies that are, at their core, trying to improve the efficacy of medicine? You know, that little human endeavor that in past generations has resulted in everything from antibiotics to vaccines to Prozac to HIV treatments? Are those efforts disposable, just because some may be quixotic or callous?
Remember, thousands of drugs go through clinical trials each year alone. But only a couple dozen drugs receive FDA approval. The perception and reality don’t match.
Most drugs will fail, and even a majority of the successes will only end up having a minor impact, if any, on wide swaths of people or illnesses. But that would be true even if every single company in Big Pharma was focused on curing cancer (which, by the way, plenty are). Does the existence of Viagra somehow tarnish Phizer? Is a community’s output diminished because its inputs include an over-representation of narcissists and sycophants?
To me, it isn’t.
Big Pharma is far from perfect because, well, because it’s a real place. In New Jersey. It should always strive to improve and be held to account, particularly in areas of equality, charity and relevancy. But to use its flaws as an excuse for ignoring its virtues is lazy and unfair. And it does a disservice to those who legitimately are working to change the world.
Wall Street is easy to bash with broad strokes, but that doesn’t mean we should.
Wall Street is teeming with ill-mannered bros whose childhood participation trophies have led them to boast about how their mediocre bank will change the world. It’s insufferable. Wall Street is also full of sincere geniuses who wake up every day to work hard on solving serious problems that could indeed change the world. It’s inspiring.
Both of these Wall Streets exist. Or, rather, they co-exist. And often the dichotomy blurs. For some reason, however, this complexity is being ignored with increasing regularity, in favor of black-and-white caricatures that would be more appropriate in Oliver Stone’s depiction of Wall Street than in media analysis of the actual place.
To be sure, I understand the impulse to bash with broad strokes. Particularly as an West Coaster who reads finance sites that drool over hedge funds as if they’re dying of xeroderma. But for every Lehman that is cited as emblematic of Wall Street’s recklessness, there is a company like Goldman Sachs that is developing financial products to help predict and prevent the outbreak of underutilized capital. Is Goldman not solving a “big” enough problem? If successful, does it not “matter?”
Or what about the countless hedge funds and financial companies that are, at their core, trying to improve the efficacy of the economy? You know, that little human endeavor that in past generations has resulted in everything from the printing press to the carrier pigeon to the telephone to staggerlying complex financial products that add nothing to the economy but generous enormous sums of money for the firms peddling them? Are those efforts disposable, just because some may be quixotic or callous?
Remember, there thousands of banks. But only around six have been outright criminally convicted of rigging the market in the last week. The perception and reality don’t match.
Most hedge funds will fail, and even a majority of the successes will only end up having a minor impact, if any, on wide swaths of the economy. But that would be true even if every fund in Wall Street was focused on advancing capitalism (which, by the way, plenty are). Does the existence of Lehman somehow tarnish Goldman? Is a community’s output diminished because its inputs include an over-representation of narcissists and sycophants?
To me, it isn’t.
Wall Street is far from perfect because, well, because it’s a real place. It should always strive to improve and held to account, particularly in areas of equality, charity and relevancy. But to use its flaws as an excuse for ignoring its virtues is lazy and unfair. And it does a disservice to those who legitimately are working to change the world.
Hollywood is easy to bash with broad strokes, but that doesn’t mean we should.
Hollywood is teeming with ill-mannered bros whose childhood participation trophies have led them to boast about how their mediocre movie will change the world. It’s insufferable. Hollywood is also full of sincere geniuses who wake up every day to work hard on creating art that could indeed change the world. It’s inspiring.
Both of these Hollywoods exist. Or, rather, they co-exist. And often the dichotomy blurs. For some reason, however, this complexity is being ignored with increasing regularity, in favor of black-and-white caricatures that would be more appropriate in HBO’s parody of Hollywood than in media analysis of the actual place.
To be sure, I understand the impulse to bash with broad strokes. Particularly as an East Coaster who reads entertainment sites that drool over celebrities as if they’re dying of xeroderma. But for every Lindsay Lohan that is cited as emblematic of Hollywood’s vapidness, there is a director like Roland Emmerich who is developing films to help predict and prevent societal problems. Is Emmerich not solving a “big” enough problem with a movie like 2012? If successful, does it not “matter?”
Or what about the countless celebrities and directors that are, at their core, trying to improve the efficacy of entertainment? You know, that little human endeavor that in past generations has resulted in everything from the printing press to the stage to the radio to television? Are those efforts disposable, just because some may be quixotic or callous?
Remember, thousands of movies have been terrible. But in history, only around two Paul Blart films were made. The perception and reality don’t match.
Most films will fail, and even a majority of the successes will only end up having a minor impact, if any, on wide swaths of people. But that would be true even if every studio in Hollywood was focused on entertaining the masses (which, by the way, plenty are). Does the existence of Michael Bay somehow tarnish Christopher Nolan? Is a community’s output diminished because its inputs include an over-representation of narcissists and sycophants?
To me, it isn’t.
Hollywood is far from perfect because, well, because it’s a real place. It should always strive to improve and held to account, particularly in areas of equality, charity and relevancy. But to use its flaws as an excuse for ignoring its virtues is lazy and unfair. And it does a disservice to those who legitimately are working to change the world.
The prison-industrial complex is easy to bash with broad strokes, but that doesn’t mean we should.
The prison-industrial complex is teeming with ill-mannered bros whose childhood participation trophies have led them to boast about how their inhumane prisons will change the world. It’s insufferable. The prison-industrial complex is also full of sincere geniuses who wake up every day to work hard on solving serious problems that could indeed change the world. It’s inspiring.
Both of these prison-industrial complexes exist. Or, rather, they co-exist. And often the dichotomy blurs. For some reason, however, this complexity is being ignored with increasing regularity, in favor of black-and-white caricatures that would be more appropriate in HBO’s fictional depiction of prison than in media analysis of the actual place.
To be sure, I understand the impulse to bash with broad strokes. Particularly as an East Coaster who reads law and order sites that drool over corrections officers as if they’re dying of xeroderma. But for every Sheriff Joe Arpaio or Rikers Island that is cited as emblematic of the prison-industrial complex’s cruelty and abuse, there is a company like the Corrections Corporation of America that is developing prisons to help incarcerate and prevent the outbreak of deadly prisoners. Is CCA not solving a “big” enough problem? If successful, does it not “matter?”
Or what about the countless jails and prisons that are, at their core, trying to improve the efficacy of incarceration? You know, that little human endeavor that in past generations has resulted in everything from London Bridewell to the panopticon to the electric chair to the Supermax? Are those efforts disposable, just because some may be quixotic or callous?
Remember, over 2.23 million adults were incarcerated in the United States in 2009 alone. In history, very few corrections officers have ever been convicted of abuse. The perception and reality don’t match.
Most inmates will be released, and even a majority of those will only end up back in jail or prison. But that would be true even if every single facility in the prison-industrial complex was focused on corrections reform (which, by the way, plenty are). Does the existence of Joe Arpaio somehow tarnish CCA? Is a community’s output diminished because its inputs include an over-representation of narcissists and sycophants?
To me, it isn’t.
The prison-indusrial complex is far from perfect because, well, because it’s a real place. It should always strive to improve and be held to account, particularly in areas of equality, charity and relevancy. But to use its flaws as an excuse for ignoring its virtues is lazy and unfair. And it does a disservice to those who legitimately are working to change the world.