Tapestries-56 | What I learned this year
Reflecting on what I learned in 2022.
Hey Tapestry readers. I’ve been on the road again, this time visiting Australia, hence the slow publishing rhythm. I wanted to get something out before the year ends, so here’s this year’s reflection. It’s the fourth time I’ve written a piece like this. You can find prior versions here: 2019, 2020, and 2021. I hope it’s an enjoyable read, and look forward to seeing you again in the new year.
And with that, here’s what I think I learned this year.
#1 The world is changing, but the future is coming into view
The future is uncertain, but that doesn’t make it completely unknowable. The last few years have been confusing and full of turbulence, and this year it felt like we started to get some clues about what the shape of the future may look like.
This year presented us with a step-change in the development of artificial intelligence. As the year went on, we were treated to exhibitions of AI creating art, supplementing the writing of software code, and responding to complex text queries. What does the future of technology look like? I’m not entirely sure, but it seems pretty clear that AI’s newfound ability to generate complex content and operate as the “autocomplete for everything” will form a foundational pillar of everything to come.
The war in Ukraine accelerated a repositioning of international alliances. What does the future of geopolitics look like? It remains to be seen how the world aligns itself in reference to a changing global order. But the interim phase is coming into view. With the US and Europe on one side, and China and Russia on the other, a middle block — comprised of states in the Gulf, South East Asia and India — has emerged as a group willing to do the important work of trading with both sides. The implications for defense, supply chains, and energy are significant.
The debate about the climate’s future has been anchored to one of two extremes. These extremes suggest we’re either about to experience a planet-level inferno and apocalypse, or that we’re about to go back to normal life and leave the climate emergency hysteria behind us. What does the future of the climate look like? It’s still too early to call, but at least we can be more confident that the extremes above seem less likely now, “with the most terrifying predictions made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay.” The question now is less is the world ending, and more how will we adapt?
#2 Energy regained its dominance as a global force
Energy is the most important driver of human progress. The quantity and density of energy we are able to harness is what distinguishes the past, present and future. It is what separates the rich, developed world, and the poor, developing world. To my mind, the most important element of a move toward a more prosperous and equitable future, is the provision of cheap, abundant and clean energy to the world’s entire population. Growing overall energy production is a civilization-level imperative.
To sustainably grow energy production, we have to shift our primary energy mix away from fossil fuels, and decarbonize energy production and supply chains. But this shift has to balance pragmatism and progress in a way that doesn’t undermine other strategic imperatives. This year made clear what some of the trade-offs may involve, and also made clear how different groups of people think about these trade-offs.
I wrote earlier this year about the centrality of oil, the inauthenticity of ESG™, and their impacts on global energy markets. Later in the year, I wrote about rare earth metals, their importance to the energy transition, and the perils of ceding control of them to our geopolitical rivals. Climate now sits at the center of global trade and geopolitics, with energy dominating the maneuverings of the US, China, Russia, Saudi Arabia and the whole of Europe. We need to deal with energy as adults, as it will shape the decade to come. To do so, we must push back on climate hysteria, and build policies that adequately balance protecting the environment, with growing global energy generation.
#3 I’m learning about my emotional range of experience
I’ve spent time this year learning more about my personal make-up, and how that make-up interacts with those around me. I generally have a pretty stable emotional band. My personal extremes of emotional highs and lows live in relatively close proximity to my average state. Said another way, I generally don’t experience many emotional lows, but on the flipside of the band, I also generally don’t get particularly excitable about things.
On reflection, that seems like a pretty healthy approach to me, and one I have actively tried to cultivate. I want to live with balance and equanimity, and I’m very comfortable trading away some excitability in return for a symmetrical reduction in negative emotions. But there is a risk to this approach. Life isn’t lived within the confines of our individual bands. Our bands must coexist and overlap with the bands of others within our personal orbits. To the extent those close to me have different emotional ranges (e.g. for my purposes, much wider bands of emotional experience), dealing with their emotions that fall outside of my band can lead me to impulsive reactions that don’t help a situation.
My lesson this year has been that my band has an unusual shape, and that when I deal with people and things outside of my usual range, I must acknowledge and suppress the impulse to react in reference to my band (where the emotion in question is unusual), and instead acknowledge that their experience of this particular emotion is probably a normal one within the flow of their lives. This may be a relatively abstract lesson to describe, but in terms of applicability, it’s been one of the most important lessons I’ve learned this year, and is helping me be a better husband, friend and family member.
#4 Opinions are like assholes; everyone has one, and if you’re not careful, you might sound like one too
There have been plenty of emotive topics to discuss over the past few years: Covid, racism, gender, tech, climate etc. — the list goes on. While I have my own biases and starting points, in my writing I’ve tried to address these issues from what I’d consider a relatively neutral, sensible starting point, and have sought out other writers who share my philosophical or political worldview. But having reflected on some of my writing of the last two years, I’m now conscious that I’m at risk of falling into the same lazy typecasting and caricaturing I’m very quick to call out in others.
I maintain that my writing and thinking remain driven by openness, humility and curiosity, but am also conscious that having regular punching bags or villains (like “woke” ideology or the New York Times) makes me look and sound like the lazy mob I’m trying to distance myself from. There are indeed worldviews and opinions I fundamentally disagree with, and I’m not suggesting I should try to change that. I’m suggesting that I don’t want to develop and articulate a worldview that’s simply a hammer that views every complex issue as a nail. The world is grey, and I want my writing to reflect that, hence the importance of observing how it’s evolving over time, and course-correcting where necessary.
#5 Writing a book is hard
I’m about 30,000 words into the book I’ve been chipping away at. I feel like I’ve got line-of-sight to completing the first draft, as I know the content of the remaining 2-3 chapters. I’ve found writing the book challenging in a way that’s different to writing essays, and it has to do with feedback and validation.
Writing Tapestry pieces comes relatively easily to me. I draft something in ~2 hours on a Saturday or Sunday, I send it to Tali and my brother for a read, incorporate their feedback, and then publish. The time between drafting, feedback, iteration, publishing and validation, is pretty short. The tightness of the feedback loop means that the product seems to be improving quite quickly, and the relative immediacy of the validation from readers gives my ego the tickle it seeks. And when you consider I can experience that cycle fortnightly or monthly, it’s clear why I find publishing regularly, easier.
Not so with a book. Writing a book has been more challenging because the feedback loop is so much longer. However many months in, and I’m still at the drafting stage. When I re-read parts of the book, I think some sound ok? Other parts, not so much. But I won’t receive feedback or validation until I share a first draft, and the toil in between is a different type of challenge.
There’s probably a broader lesson in here about taking on hard projects, and doing them for the joy of the work instead of the recognition of the crowd. Success — however you define it — can be found by taking on projects where you are willing to sustain effort where others will not. Finding some joy in the grind, whether writing, running or building, is where one can go from good to great. And doing things without the need for external validation is a powerful trait to cultivate.
#6 Antisemitism is heading in the wrong direction
I don’t want to write more on this topic. I discussed it in detail in the 2021 edition of this piece, and again this year here and here. I am simply noting it here again because to leave it off this list would be disingenuous.
#7 I’m going to be a dad
This should probably have been #1, but I thought I’d leave it at the end, because more than anything else I’ve learned this year, this fact will create more change than everything else I’ve mentioned.
Tali is due in June, and I think it’s fair to assume that you, dear Tapestry readers, will be hearing much more about the journey as we enter the new year. It’s been almost four years of publishing, a few hundred subscribers, and a wild turn of global and personal events. It’s been a pleasure sharing some of them with you along the way, and I look forward to lots more writing and engagement in the coming year.
As we close this one out, I wish you all well for the holidays, and a fresh start into the new year.
Selected books from this year
The following books are those I took the most from reading this year.
Four Thousand Weeks, by Oliver Burkeman. An incredible look at our interaction with time, and how we risk squandering a lifetime trying to optimize this ephemeral concept.
The Tyranny of Merit, by Michael Sandel. An original and thought-provoking look at the concept of merit and a meritocracy, that challenges whether we should build societies with merit at their cores.
The World for Sale, by Javier Blas and Jack Farchy. A look at the history of commodity houses, the roles they’ve played in helping move the world’s commodities around the globe, and the larger-than-life characters and organizations at the center of this industry.
Persian Fire, by Tom Holland. An entertaining look at the Greco-Persian wars of the 5th century BCE, and an analysis of what we’ve inherited from Persian and Greek culture.
When we Cease to Understand the World, by Benjamin Labatut. A cool hybrid non-fiction or historical fiction format that progressively introduces more fiction to the storylines document the people behind world-changing scientific or mathematical discoveries.