Should we go fast or slow? Think short term or long?
In antiquity, speed and immediacy weren’t necessarily a good thing.
Aesop tells the story of the tortoise and the hare: the fast but arrogant hare loses a foot race to the slow yet determined tortoise. It was a moral lesson about overconfidence.
During the Roman empire, Augustus was known to utter the phrase “festina lente” — “make haste slowly.” He favored military commanders who took their time and executed properly.
In Silicon Valley, we decided to break with history.
Now, speed means everything. The technorati speak of terms like churn, burn rate and stickiness. All the metrics are real-time.
As consumers, we venerate the companies that “move fast and break things.”
Threads, Meta’s so-called “Twitter killer,” is the current talk of the town. In just the past week, it amassed over 100 million sign-ups. Apparently, it will help you, the user, to “join the conversation” and “tune out the noise.”
For the uninitiated, that’s tech-speak for instant gratification and a never-ending cycle of dopamine hits.
How did we get here?
Before Threads, TikTok was all the rage.
Before TikTok, it was Clubhouse. Remember them?
Before that? Snapchat. Instagram. Twitter. Facebook.
All of these disrupters, businesses that steal our time and monetize our attention, are less than 20 years old:
2023 (Threads)
2019 (Clubhouse)
2016 (TikTok)
2011 (Snapchat)
2010 (Instagram)
2006 (Twitter)
2004 (Facebook)
If they were a human being, they wouldn’t be old enough to buy a beer in the U.S., although I’m sure they’d have a fake ID and look like this guy:
What to make of all this?
Threads is fresh out of the oven. Who knows what it will become? (And who cares?)
Clubhouse is irrelevant.
TikTok’s CEO recently went before Congress and had to explain why his 8-year-old child isn’t on it.
In a Wall Street Journal expose (paywall), we learned that Facebook executives were aware that Instagram was toxic for teen girls.
Facebook, meanwhile, “was born, lives and thrives in scandal.”
Will these companies be around in another 20 years? 50? Would you bet your life on it?
The lesson: going fast is messy. It’s uncertain.
Without guardrails, it can be reckless.
And that’s what we celebrate here in Silicon Valley.
We love speed.
We pay for eyeballs and clicks.
We want to win now.
We don’t care about inspiring true customer loyalty or having a sterling reputation. Give me the drug!
We’re the hare.
Japan, however, plays a very different game.
It’s the tortoise.
THE SHINISE
Japan is home to roughly half of the world’s companies that are over 200 years old.
The Japanese call these businesses shinise — “old shop(s).” It refers to long-established organizations that have operated for at least one hundred years.
As of 2020, Japan had more than 33,000 shinise. Of that number,
3,100 are over 200 years old
140 are over 500 years old, and
At least 19 claim to be operating for over 1,000 years
The oldest among these include:
Kongo Gumi (founded in 578 CE) — the oldest continuously operating company in the world, it focuses on the design, construction, restoration and repair of shrines, temples, castles and cultural heritage buildings
Nishiyama Onsen Keiunkan (705 CE) — the oldest hotel in the world
Genda Shigyo (771 CE) — produces ceremonial paper goods, such as mizuhiki, gift wrapping and betrothal gifts
Tanaka Iga Butsugu (885 CE) — produces Buddhist goods, including Butsudan shrines for traditional Japanese homes
Tsuen Tea (1160 CE) — the oldest teahouse in the world
Unlike Silicon Valley, the shinise do not pursue “hypergrowth.” They are not concerned with the inconsequential, quarterly expectations of Wall Street. They don’t chase profits or trends.
Instead, to survive for a millennium (or more), it is a higher purpose that drives them.
The shinise call these core values kakun — family precepts.
These principles include:
Continuity
Tradition
Look after your employees
Support the community
Strive to make a product that inspires pride
Do one thing and do it well
Accumulate cash reserves and
Avoid debt and other risk
At Ichiwa, a Kyoto-based small shop located across from an old shrine, the purpose for the business was to provide refreshments for weary travelers who came from across Japan to pray for pandemic relief — in the year 1000 CE.
To this day, it only serves mochi and roasted green tea. Ichiwa does one thing, and it does it well.
THE LONG GAME
Are you playing for now or eternity?
Are you attracted to the brilliant sizzle of instant gratification? Or are you drawn to the slow burn of a life dedicated to self-mastery?
In your pursuits, be it work, relationships, family, or whatever else, do you treat them with the emotional distance of a Zoom meeting? Or do you approach them with the care of an artisan?
In my yoga classes, we hold certain poses for a considerable length of time. The poses are physically demanding, and it’s readily apparent that the students want to move on. They can’t hold it any longer. Their bodies shake. Their minds scream.
Why?
We want to escape the pain.
We want to keep the monkey mind stimulated by moving on to the next thing.
It’s easier to navigate through life in short, mindless bursts. Swipe left!
And that’s when I ask the students to pause.
To hold in place.
To remember to breathe.
I want them to savor this moment, even — especially! — the suffering.
I say: “Imagine that this is the last pose that you will ever do.”
In that moment, how closely would you focus?
How much could you withstand?
I then ask my students: “What is your intention? What propels you forward?”
The shinise are driven by something deeper.
When I look at the 11 oldest shinise, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that five are hotels, three make ceremonial and religious goods, two construct temples and shrines, and the last (Ichiwa) makes soul food.
Hotels are hospitality. They are service. They are a roof over your head and a comfortable bed to rest your tired mind and body.
Ceremonial and religious goods symbolize our communion with a higher power (whatever that means to you), and they create a deeper bond between mortals (the giver and receiver).
Construction and repair of religious and heritage sites is at the very essence of what it is to be Japanese: attention to detail, respect for the past and a steadfast dedication to excellence.
And Ichiwa makes consistent, sweet-tasting mochi and hot tea for all those who travel to visit the nearby shrine. Travelers go to the shrine to fill their soul, and they come to Ichiwa to fill their cup and belly. After centuries of relying on the honor system, only after World War II did Ichiwa start to charge a fixed price per plate.
These services stand the test of time because they meet deep, persistent, human needs:
To be housed.
To feel part of something greater.
To remember where we came from.
To be fed.
To be loved.
I fear that technology is eroding our humanity.
I fear that the turbulent times that we’re living in are making us more isolated and less committed to our communities.
I fear that it’s all happening so fast — quick, before the Snapchat disappears! — that no one is bothering to notice.
In response, I vow to think (and act) more slowly and deliberately.
I vow to look you in the eye and treat you with the hospitality that you deserve.
I vow to do one thing — to live this life, in service to myself and others — and do it well.
Will you play the long game with me?
It gets repetitive when I say that your writings are powerful and full of insights. Keep writing.