Larry Nocella

Category: Mental Models

  • Marketism: The One True Religion

    Marketism: The One True Religion

    What most people call religions are just hobbies compared to the real worship.

    Is that Good?

    A long time ago, a friend and I were driving, listening to tunes when the news sounded on the car radio. The narrator spit the usual freestyle scat song jargon of a financial report. “The whatever index is up . The futures are down over whatever and blah bippity bop gurgle gurgle ha-cha.”

    After the report ended and the radio ads began, my friend asked, “Is that good?”

    “Huh?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

    “The market report. All those numbers and terms and stuff. Something is up, whatever index is down. I don’t know what any of that means. Is that good? Is it bad news? What does all that crap mean?”

    I didn’t know either and so I made a promise to myself. I would defeat my ignorance.

    I resolved to learn the language of money. Money was how the dickheads who control our planet exercise power. Money is essential to survival, like it or not. I’d best learn the language of this omnipresent force, this lingo used so by oppressors.

    The Only Reason To Buy a Stock

    So began our hero’s journey (I’m telling this tale so I’m the hero, okay?) I headed out to learn the ways of money. As usual when I am confused, I hit the library first. I read many books. All kinds of books discussing all kinds of economics. How to manage money, how it flowed through our society. Stocks, debt, and more. I’ll never say I’m an expert, but I’m definitely wiser than I once was.

    During my quest, I asked a financial-based friend about the stock market and how it worked. This wise chap summarized: “When you buy a stock, you do so because you believe you can sell it to someone else for more than you paid. That’s it.” Let’s highlight that quote.

    “When you buy a stock, you do so because you believe you can sell it to someone else for more than you paid. That’s it.”

    My friend’s answer was oversimplified (you might buy and hold a stock for the dividends) but the core truth was solid. He exposed the financial world as far less cold, numerical facts, and more faith and belief-based.

    My friend’s simplification helped me understand the emergence of bizarre activities like “investing” in NFTs and gold and a lot more. People buy things not to have the thing itself, but because they are convinced at some point, someone will buy it for more. They stoke a belief, a faith that others will want it for more later. (Which is sus because if you’re telling me it’s going to rise in value, why are you selling it?)

    The earlier you buy it pre-upswing (buy low) the better. The sooner you buy a thing before the belief that it will be valuable takes hold, the more you make out. The thing itself doesn’t have to be useful at all. In the case of NFTs, it doesn’t even have to exist.

    The Religion of Marketism

    If I was an alien unlucky enough to be stuck studying Earth (which I sometimes feel I am) I would classify what we call religions as weekend hobbies. What silly humans actually devote their lives to is a religion I call Marketism.

    Compare the infrequent devotions of the common religions to the one true religion: Marketism. The market’s every twitch, the fractions of countless metrics draws attention and is referred to multiple times per day through many channels. The closest competitor I can think of is the Islamic rite of Salah (one must pray five times a day.) That’s still well short of Marketism’s infinite always-on check-ins of devotion.

    Marketism is the universal tradition spoken by all humans. It is the one thing looked at more than any god or philosophy or whacky stone-age campfire sci-fi story about supernatural people overcoming death.

    Marketism. That’s what I’d call it as I submitted my alien report to my commanders. It is the engine of human civilization. It doesn’t necessarily have to be. We could have a society that provided enough for all and then stopped there. But the true zealots of Marketism pressure us all into a treadmill of “serve the market or die.”

    This Is Your God

    Like all 80s kids, I loved the movie “They Live.” By using special dorktastic sunglasses, the protagonists could see past the lies of our world. There is a scene in the film where the character looks at a dollar bill while wearing the glasses. The bill is not the usual USD dead prez paper, but instead in bold letters reads, “This is Your God.”

    It’s not saying, this is your god if you want it to be. This is your god, period. This is the omnipotent force that rules you. It’s not a dude in a robe in the sky, it’s a collective force beyond our comprehension and we must serve it. That’s Marketism.

    Getting back to my friend’s question, is it good? Well, it’s not great. There’s no easy or obvious option out of the negative parts of it’s influence. There’s a constant pressure and it’s difficult to establish a life built on, okay, that’s enough. But it is what we have so we must make the best of it. Like the idea of a real god, it’s real whether we believe it or not. Like a true religion, it’s a way of life you must follow.

    A Glimmer of Hope

    So that’s a little bleak, but then I think there are ways to resist the mostly-negative influence of Marketism. Hopefully you’re thinking of some ideas now. But like any formulaic hero’s journey, we should return to the start. Where it began: a library. Libraries are wonderful little pockets that do their best to be isolated from Marketism. I’m sure there are others, but libraries? They’re my favorite.

    Photo by Jakub Żerdzicki on Unsplash

  • Mental Model Repair Shop: Remember This Before Blaming the Messenger

    Mental Model Repair Shop: Remember This Before Blaming the Messenger

    Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

    Today in the mental model repair shop, we’re going to discuss how we assess hypocrisy. We’ll start with a specific anecdote and expand the lessons learned for many situations.

    Hating Dissent in the Land of the Free

    Long ago, my primary cause was animal rights. I read all the books, visited vegan restaurants, and attended protests against animal cruelty. Regarding those rallies, I was shocked at the scorn we received. Not because people disagreed with us, but because they seemed to dislike protest as an idea—without even knowing our cause. Maybe it was paranoia, but I often felt an ambient hostility from those passing by before they could see our signs or talk to us.

    I gradually realized that people love to complain, but they hate hearing others do it. This attitude permeates American life. “America! Love it or leave it!” Wait, can’t I stay and voice a concern?

    It still shocks me that most Americans have never used their First Amendment right to stand somewhere with a sign and protest anything. Do they really find everything perfect exactly how it currently is? Protesting is 100% legal. Why not do it? Because nobody wants to hear complaints, and people instinctively know if they complain, they’re in for some disdain.

    The Classic “Sticker Defense”

    Those driving by would often yell something, but it was impossible to understand them. Here’s a tip for drive-by commenters: hand gestures (thumbs up or middle fingers) are more effective. Funny thing is, from a distance, and at high speeds, they look the same.

    For those walking by, there was a different tradition. Haters would point at our shoes and laugh. “You hypocrite! You care about harming animals for fur, but you’re wearing leather shoes!” Like too many wannabe-wits, these folks always considered this oft-repeated criticism wildly original, totally hilarious, and a complete invalidation of the suggestion that we shouldn’t be cruel to animals.

    I had the solution. I printed labels with big block letters that read, “NOT LEATHER.” Each protester stuck them to the top of our shoes. Most of us wore niche brand vegan footwear—rubber, canvas, etc.—so this was mostly true.

    When one of these aspiring contrarians strolled by and attempted to demonstrate their unique humor with a comment we had heard a thousand times, they would look down, point, and BAM! Thwarted! 

    A Busted Mental Model

    Despite that, I took to heart the criticisms of hypocrisy. There was a grain of truth in them. In the years since, I’ve noticed that it’s a standard line of attack against anyone who proposes an idea for positive change. 

    Instead of assessing an idea, mediocre minds immediately size up the messenger, searching for any failing. No matter how microscopic, one is inevitably found, and the lazy thinker gladly returns to their unchanged mind, confident that the one speck of inconsistency holds back an avalanche of support.

    I wanted to ask these folks. “Do you really think a vegan, sincere about their beliefs, trying with all their might to avoid animal cruelty, would buy leather shoes on purpose?” The answer is, “Of course not.”

    Dear reader, have you ever tried to buy footwear that isn’t leather? Back then (20+ years ago) it was nearly impossible. It’s better now, but still not easy. There are many things labeled cruelty-free that sure feel like they aren’t. Have the materials changed? Or just the labeling? 

    It’s not necessarily the vegan who is hypocritical. The systems we live in don’t allow for many choices that are kind to our fellow animals.

    A Lack of Options

    That is the core of today’s discussion: whether by natural law or by human design, our choices are often so limited that we seem to be hypocrites no matter what we attempt. Our ability to impact the world as we desire is often impossible due to a restricted field of options, not our failures. 

    Suppose you want to resist the ongoing atrocities of the oil and gas industries (endless wars, climate change, worker exploitation, etc.) You buy an electric car. Then you learn that building them is also damaging to the environment. So you buy a bicycle. But there are no bike paths. Bicycling on roads with cars isn’t safe and is often illegal. You try and try, but your choices are limited, and/or your life is made more difficult. But if you finally get there, someone will point out the tires on your bike and the paved roads are also petrol products. Oh well.

    This isn’t to whine that creating change is difficult—it always will be. My point is that we live in several severely controlled and artificial environments that have made 100% purity in our drive for positive change with personal choices nearly impossible.

    Let’s try buying clothes. Many manufacturers have horrible labor practices in countries with no worker protections. You could make your own. But few have the skill to do that. Just because someone says, “I’m anti-child labor,” yet they wear shoes made in a factory that supports child labor – doesn’t mean they are wrong. It could mean they’re lazy and want the appearance of caring. It could also mean that buying new clothes that don’t exploit labor is nearly impossible.

    I’ve seen this before. Someone says, “I want to avoid fossil fuels,” then some wannabe big thinker says, “Much of what you’re wearing comes from petroleum products.” My friendly contrarian, you may have exposed a hypocrite, but just as likely, you’ve exposed a restricted system.

    Less Evil is still Evil… but it’s still Less, too

    The key is to be wary of purity tests, because one of the most solid mental models is: Nobody’s perfect. When someone proposes an idea and appears hypocritical, I’d vote to consider the messenger, but also remember to consider the message.

    There’s a righteous saying, “In choosing the lesser of two evils, one still chooses evil.” That’s true. But it neglects that, in many cases, a system is set up where we must choose one of a few evil (or least not good) choices. If you MUST choose, and both choices are “evil” — then choosing the lesser evil makes sense. 

    Rather than criticize the choice, it might be better to blame a system where you’re only given two flavors of evil to choose from.

    Image by Bing Co-Pilot AI. Prompt: A king in an ornate throne room, standing before his throne, angrily pointing out of the room, ordering a messenger to leave.

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