An essay questioning the fruits of optimisation.

Part 2: Optimisation and Fragility. What is the “cult of efficiency” doing to our humanity?

Adrian Petrice (PhD), Benjamin Sager (MA), Samuel Johns (MA)

This is part 2 of a 3 parts essay: part 1 can be read here, part 3 coming soon.

Optimisation and fragility

Back to our optimisation-fragility conundrum. The principle is simple: ‘Any system can be optimised to maximise performance. Any system can also be over-optimised to the point of maximum fragility’. The assumption here is that we take ‘optimisation’ to mean maximum efficiency. We could say that maximum efficiency means delivering the desired outcomes with minimum resources and minimum redundancy or buffer. Maximum efficiency will mean no buffer, no interval, everything just in time, just where it’s needed, and no space or resources for new opportunities. Everything is maxed out and/or spread thin, just where the needs are. 

Yet complexity without diversification is also a sign of fragility. Over time this can become a threat to stability. Again, if we consider the natural world, we see that every complex ecosystem has fallow periods (or intervals of redundancy), in order to ensure its resilience. Our world counters this logic. Consider the financial world post-2008 and the Great Recession. In finance, idleness of money is seen as unproductive money (or a lack of efficiency), even whilst it provides a safeguard against unknown shocks. Business models are mostly built on the ‘just in time’ (JIT) principle, for the sake of efficiency. 

Kofi Annan, the former Secretary General of the United Nations, said in 1999:

“Globalisation is a fact of life, but I believe we have underestimated its fragility”.

The Covid-19 pandemic has reminded us that in times of crisis, ‘just in time’ can incur huge human costs when circumstances deviate from what is considered ‘optimal’. Consider the cries of health services around the world— from the NHS in the UK to government authorities in Australia—pleading with the public to respect health measures so as not to overwhelm health services. The meteoric rise in shipping and logistics costs since the start of the pandemic reiterates the fact that JIT efficiency operates poorly in times of stress. The more we optimise our systems for JIT efficiency, the more fragile and complex they become: any deviation from the ‘normal’ can prove to be enormously disruptive. (*1)

The links between optimisation and identity

Let us turn for a moment to the 20th century and the great Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy, arguably the most famous writer of that time period. He suggested this: ”All great literature is one of two stories; a man goes on a journey, or a stranger comes to town.” In the first, “a man on a journey”, the horizon awaits and the story unfolds: a tale of daring and courage, replete with challenge, mired by disappointment along the way, but culminating in a myth of great adrenaline and inspiration. In the second, “a stranger comes to town,” our familiar setting is disturbed and disrupted by a new presence. Distinct, different tastes and traits are introduced into the everyday to shock the status quo, to rustle the feathers of the reader, and to wake us from our soporific culture.

What if Tolstoy—the great titan of literature—had his words adapted by the streams of our culture. Our materialistic society celebrates beauty and perfection. The story of a “man going on a journey”, has become the story of the “man who seeks the holy grail: to take hold of perfection”. (Forgive the gendered language, but after all the context Tolstoy is writing in is Russia in 1901.) The story of perfection has close parallels to the story of the adventurous journey - the tale of daring and courage, of challenge and obstacle, of dealing with disappointment and of ultimately culminating in a great tale of inspiration. In Britain, we would say of such a story: “that is one to tell the grandchildren”.

Yet the story of the adventurous journey appeals only to the adrenaline-fuelled hedonist, ready to risk it all to feel fully alive in the moment, and the armchair traveller, living vicariously through the daring deeds of another. The story of perfection, on the other hand, is a story almost all of us buy into. We are all motivated by tales of skill and learning in lockdown - a new musical instrument, perhaps, or perfecting pronunciation in a foreign language. We’re inspired by TikTok creators with their impressive camera angles and action-fuelled short reels. We’re driven to achieve by the mantra “couch potato to 5k”, or “get well and get on”. In the age of curated content on Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, and Facebook, perfection is staring us in the face almost every day.

The dangerous relationship between optimisation and humanity

Optimisation. Perhaps we can boil everything down to this word. We are driven by the relentless desire to optimise. To eke out more performance. To streamline our efforts. To avoid wastage and baggage. To hit optimal output. To perform, again and again and again. We are no strangers to this logic. Week in week out, training in the local swimming pool, I (Samuel) race the guys I train with to get fitter, faster, stronger. It’s not the Tokyo 2021 Olympics I’m aiming for, but still the Olympic motto of the rings in our ears: “Citius, altius, fortius.” Faster, higher, stronger. 

Yet two thoughts concern us, deep in this logic of dopamine-driven desire. Firstly, that raised by the British philosopher Bertrand Russell:

“There was formerly a capacity for light-heartedness and play which has been to some extent inhibited by the cult of efficiency. The modern man thinks that everything ought to be done for the sake of something else, and never for its own sake”. 

What is this “cult of efficiency” doing to our light-hearted play? (*2) And ultimately, what might this do to our humanity?

Secondly, philosopher Byung-Chul Han writes (2010): “Every age has its signature afflictions. From a pathological standpoint, the incipient twenty-first century is determined neither by bacteria nor by viruses, but by neurons. Neurological illnesses such as depression, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), borderline personality disorder (BPD), and burnout syndrome mark the landscape of pathology at the beginning of the twenty-first century”. (*3)

The Covid-19 pandemic certainly challenges Han’s notion that our age is not defined by bacterial or viral infections. However, his stark warning regarding our neurological health should be heeded.

Part 3 following soon.

Notes:

*1:  Crisis Economics employs a similar language – with maximum efficiency comes also maximum fragility. There is a clear tension between efficiency (working to eliminate redundancy) and resilience (that relies on a stock of redundancy).

*2:  Karl Marx warned: “Only work and no play makes stupid!”

*3: Byung-Chul Han (2010) continues: “They are not infections, but infarctions; they do not follow from the negativity of what is immunologically foreign, but from an excess of positivity. Therefore, they elude all technologies and techniques that seek to combat what is alien”

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Written in the summer of 2021, during long, non-optimised days of work and study

Adrian Petrice (PhD) holds a doctorate in Political Science. Adi is the European Co-ordinator for Cross-Current, a network of young Christian professionals integrating their faith and work, to benefit all.

Benjamin Sager (MA) holds a master’s in Psychology from the University of Zurich, Switzerland. Ben works with young professionals within the VBG network of IFES.‍

Samuel Johns (MA) studied Human Geography and Philosophy at UBC, Vancouver. Samuel writes on identity and immediacy in the (post)modern world, and works with the Cross-Current network.