Unsubject by Simon

Boeing was once the gold standard in aviation, synonymous with safety, reliability, and engineering brilliance. For decades, its aircraft not only filled the skies but did so with unmatched precision and excellence. However, the Boeing of today is a far cry from the Boeing of yesterday. In the last few decades, the company has been embroiled in scandal, tragedy, and strategic miscalculations that seem almost unthinkable for an entity of its reputation.

In many ways, Boeing is a case study of what happens when engineering processes gives way to bureaucratic performance metrics, and when close relationships with regulators result in oversight failures. It also shows the inevitable problems that arise when engineering culture—built on responding to feedback, improving incrementally, and adhering to evidence-based practices—is replaced by the desire to accommodate the wishes of higher authority.

The 737 MAX: A Tragic Consequence of Shortsighted Decisions

The most glaring example of Boeing’s downfall came with the 737 MAX. In 2018 and 2019, two of these jets crashed—Lion Air Flight 610 and Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 —taking the lives of 346 people. The tragedy sent shockwaves through the aviation industry and left the world questioning how Boeing, once the industry leader in safety, could have allowed such catastrophic failures.

The root cause of these crashes was the Maneuvering Characteristics Augmentation System, also known as MCAS. MCAS was supposed to help pilots handle the 737 MAX's altered flight dynamics due to the addition of larger, more fuel-efficient engines. Rather than redesign the entire airframe—a costly endeavor—Boeing opted for a software patch that effectively disguised the aerodynamic challenges presented by the new engines. It was an engineering shortcut made under immense pressure to bring the aircraft to market quickly and keep pace with Airbus’s A320 Neo.

The introduction of MCAS without sufficient pilot training or transparency was a denial of the evidence-based, safety-first philosophy that Boeing was once known for. When you ignore critical feedback—in this case, concerns from engineers about the rushed pace of the project—and fail to adapt your designs accordingly, the outcome is rarely a positive one. Boeing’s reluctance to acknowledge MCAS as a significant system worthy of attention and training ran directly counter to the fundamentals of sound engineering.

Beginning of the End - the 1997 Merger with McDonnell Douglas

To understand Boeing's broader missteps, we must revisit the 1997 merger with McDonnell Douglas, a pivotal moment that shaped the company’s subsequent trajectory. This merger was heralded as a bold move to create a dominant force in the aerospace industry. However, instead of being a union of equals, it represented a cultural collision that transformed Boeing from an engineering powerhouse into a bureaucratic government contractor.

Before the merger, Boeing’s culture was rooted in engineering excellence, where decisions were made methodically, and always with an eye on safety of its aircraft. McDonnell Douglas, however, came with a different ethos—one that emphasized on the matrics for winning government contracts. Post-merger, it was this latter culture that won out.

"The bean counters are now in the cockpit," lamented one former Boeing engineer. This encapsulated the reality that the decisions steering the company were no longer driven by engineering but by key performance indices. As Boeing moved away from its engineering roots, it also moved away from its capacity to identify problems early and make the necessary improvements—a vital aspect of maintaining safety and quality.

The problems Boeing faced were not limited to the 737 MAX. The KC 46 Pegasus tanker, developed for the U.S. Air Force, was plagued by delays, cost overruns, and quality control problems. Boeing underbid to secure the contract, hoping that subsequent defense spending would offset the initial losses. Instead, the program faced repeated setbacks, including issues with debris left in the aircraft and malfunctioning systems—issues that were emblematic of a company increasingly willing to cut corners. This wasn’t just about technical errors; it reflected a broader culture that no longer prized engineering discipline and rigor but prioritized speed and cost-saving measures instead. Without the iterative improvement and evidence-based engineering that had once defined Boeing, quality suffered.

The CST 100 Starliner project, part of NASA’s Commercial Crew Program, was another high-profile misfire. The 2019 test flight failed due to a software error that caused the spacecraft to miss its intended orbit, ultimately uncovering more than 80 software issues. The failure was shocking given Boeing's storied aerospace expertise but not surprising considering the systemic issues that had come to plague the company. The Starliner underscored Boeing’s broader difficulty in transitioning from traditional aerospace engineering to the software-intensive demands of modern spaceflight. Where other companies like SpaceX have succeeded through deep integration between hardware and software development—leveraging iterative testing and rapid feedback—Boeing seemed ill-equipped to manage this new frontier.

One of Boeing's major challenges was adapting to the increasingly software-driven nature of modern aerospace engineering. Boeing's engineering culture had been built on mechanical precision, aerodynamics, and structural design. But modern aircraft are no longer just flying machines—they are highly sophisticated networks of sensors, computers, and millions of lines of code. Boeing treated software development as an afterthought, something to be handled separately, rather than a core part of aircraft design.

The essence of successful engineering is its reliance on iterative processes—constant testing, feedback, and adaptation. Software, even more so than mechanical systems, demands a fluid and responsive approach to development. The contrast with companies like Apple or Tesla, who pioneered concurrent hardware-software integration, is stark. In those companies, hardware and software teams work side-by-side from the very beginning of a project, ensuring seamless integration and continuous adaptation based on real-time feedback. Boeing, however, kept these teams siloed, treating software as an add-on rather than an integral component. This was a departure from the iterative, integrated approach that had previously defined Boeing’s success and contributed to the poor integration between MCAS and the aircraft’s other systems.

Regulatory Capture and Too-Big-to-Fail Mentality

The 737 MAX debacle was not just an internal Boeing failure. It was a failure of the regulatory system as well—a glaring example of regulatory capture, where the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) became too closely aligned with the industry it was supposed to regulate. The FAA, due to both capacity issues and an overreliance on industry expertise, essentially delegated key parts of the certification process to Boeing itself.

The idea of self-certification, which might sound reasonable when dealing with an experienced, trustworthy company, proved to be a fundamental misstep. Boeing was allowed to conduct its own safety checks, and unsurprisingly, it chose to minimize the MCAS system's significance to avoid delays and extra costs. This arrangement allowed Boeing’s flawed designs to go unchallenged, creating a systemic vulnerability that only became apparent after lives were lost. In an environment that no longer adhered to rigorous, evidence-based review and improvement, this was the tragic but inevitable outcome. It was not just a failure of engineering; it was a failure of oversight, and a striking reminder of what happens when the boundaries between regulator and industry become too blurred.

Boeing's relationship with regulators also shielded it from facing the full consequences of its actions. The FAA’s cozy relationship with Boeing, born out of both necessity and complacency, allowed the company to operate with far too much freedom and far too little scrutiny. This wasn’t just a bureaucratic failure; it was a structural issue with deep implications for how aviation safety is ensured.

The notion of being "too big to fail" wasn’t just implicit in Boeing’s relationship with the FAA; it was evident in how the company operated internally. Boeing’s sheer size and market dominance created an environment where executives seemed to believe they were insulated from real risks. They assumed that no matter what, Boeing would weather the storm—after all, it had the government as a client, a regulator in its corner, and a reputation that seemed unassailable. But as the events with the 737 MAX showed, complacency is dangerous, and unchecked power even more so.

Boeing’s downfall is not just a lesson for aviation; it is a cautionary tale for any large entity that loses touch with its core values. When a company grows too big to listen, too bureaucratic to innovate, and too comfortable to adapt, it sets itself up for failure. Boeing’s history of excellence was built on engineering integrity, a commitment to quality, and a culture that empowered those who built its planes to speak up and lead. When that culture shifted—when cost-cutting, shareholder appeasement, and regulatory coziness took precedence—Boeing lost its way.

The tragedy of the 737 MAX, the setbacks of the KC 46, and the failures of the Starliner were not isolated events. They were symptoms of a deeper rot within Boeing—a culture that placed financial engineering over aerospace engineering, and corporate metrics over safety. To rebuild itself, Boeing must fundamentally change its culture, its incentives, and its relationship with regulators. It needs to return to the basics of engineering excellence, to re-emphasize the importance of safety, and to learn from its own history before it's too late.

Engineering development is about responding to feedback, continual improvement, and adhering to evidence-based practices. It requires a deep commitment to adaptability and an openness to challenge assumptions. Boeing’s journey back to greatness will require all of these traits. It requires a cultural reckoning—a return to a time when safety was the foundation of everything it did, and when engineers were empowered to challenge decisions that compromised quality. If Boeing cannot rediscover that ethos, it will become a relic of the past, a sobering example of what happens when an entity becomes too big and too out of touch with reality and the very values that once made it great.

I’ve noticed that most Hong Kong immigrants lean center-right, often finding Canadian progressivism too extreme for their tastes. Some are eager to change their circumstances through the ballot box but feel that, as a minority, our influence is limited.

The Progressives

Before discussing what Hong Kongers in Canada can do, let’s delve into the roots of Canadian progressivism.

The political spectrum in Canada began to shift during the Great Depression and World War II. The Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF), a socialist party founded in 1932, played a key role in advocating for progressive policies like old-age security, unemployment insurance, and Medicare.

The rise of the CCF prompted the Liberal government under Mackenzie King to co-opt many of its ideas to maintain political power. The Liberal Party’s approach to the CCF, often described as "brokerage politics," involved adopting centrist policies and building broad coalitions to appeal to the median Canadian voter.

The CCF, later renamed the New Democratic Party (NDP), continued pushing for structural changes aimed at reducing inequality and expanding public services. Tommy Douglas, premier of Saskatchewan and later the NDP's leader, pioneered universal healthcare in the province, which eventually became the model for Canada's national healthcare system.

The Quiet Revolution in Quebec during the 1960s and 1970s was another pivotal moment. This period saw rapid modernization and secularization, led by the Quebec Liberal Party. It brought sweeping reforms in education, healthcare, and social services, along with a renewed emphasis on the French language and culture. It also fueled a rise in Quebec nationalism and a desire for greater autonomy within Canada.

Justin Trudeau's Liberal government, elected in 2015, represents a recent progressive turn. Trudeau expanded welfare programs, legalized marijuana, increased child benefit funding, introduced a national carbon tax, and pursued policies focused on reducing poverty and promoting equality. His administration is often regarded as "the most left-wing government in Canada’s history."

The Conservatives

Can the opposite of the progressives be the answer? The Canadian Conservative Party once called itself the "Progressive Conservative" party—an apparent oxymoron.

Historically, Canadian conservatism has its roots in British Toryism—a philosophy that initially supported a significant role for government, particularly in economic matters. Early Canadian conservatism was far from the small-government, free-market approach often linked to conservatism elsewhere. Instead, it embraced an interventionist state, focused on nation-building through ambitious infrastructure projects designed to promote growth and national unity. Canada's first Prime Minister, John A. Macdonald, exemplified this with the construction of the Canadian Pacific Railway—a massive undertaking that connected the country from coast to coast, not only physically but also politically and economically.

Similarly, during the Great Depression, Conservative Prime Minister R.B. Bennett introduced unemployment relief at a time when such measures were almost unheard of, demonstrating an openness to state intervention.

Another defining feature of Canadian conservatism has been an emphasis on sovereignty and autonomy from international pressures. During the Cold War, Conservative leader John Diefenbaker resisted American demands to place nuclear missiles on Canadian soil, underscoring the party's stance on maintaining independence.

Canadian conservatism took a dramatic turn in the 1980s under the leadership of Brian Mulroney. Mulroney championed free trade and privatization, moving away from the interventionist policies of earlier Conservative leaders. Privatizing crown corporations such as Air Canada and Petro-Canada marked a shift towards a more free-market ideology, aligning more closely with the conservative waves led by Ronald Reagan in the United States and Margaret Thatcher in the United Kingdom.

Mulroney’s economic liberalization was politically contentious, marking a significant transformation within Canadian conservatism. Around the same time, social issues like LGBTQ rights and abortion began to take center stage, creating divisions within the Conservative Party.

The 1990s were challenging for the Conservatives, as they struggled with internal divisions after Mulroney's economic reforms. This created space for the emergence of the Reform Party, which appealed to Western Canadians disillusioned with the political status quo. The Reform Party’s focus on smaller government and regional representation eventually led to the formation of the Canadian Alliance in 2000, which then merged with the remnants of the Progressive Conservatives in 2003, forming today’s Conservative Party of Canada.

The unified Conservative movement brought together diverse strands of conservatism, setting the stage for Stephen Harper’s leadership. Harper navigated this complex ideological landscape with caution, particularly regarding divisive social issues. Notably, he chose not to reopen the abortion debate, understanding the risk of alienating parts of his voter base.

Meanwhile, Canada, especially Quebec, has undergone significant secularization since the 1960s. The secularization of the education system, particularly in Quebec, has diminished the influence of religious institutions in shaping public values. Regular church attendance in Canada dropped from around 40% in the 1980s to about 20% by 2015, correlating with more progressive attitudes on social issues.

Economy and Demography

In short, what we see as progressivism is deeply entrenched. However, Canada is also blessed. There are very few nations on Earth that enjoy the kind of abundance in natural resources that Canada does.

Canada's energy profile is unique in its diversity and capacity. The country has the extraordinary luxury of meeting its domestic energy needs largely through renewable sources like hydropower, along with an established and reliable nuclear sector, while also benefiting economically from its vast reserves of oil sands and natural gas. This gives Canada a distinct advantage: the ability to rely on clean and sustainable energy sources for its domestic consumption while exporting fossil fuels, primarily to the United States, where demand remains high. The result is a rare blend of energy self-sufficiency and lucrative export opportunities—a combination that most countries can only dream of.

However, Canada’s wealth in natural resources—from timber to hydropower to oil sands—while a source of economic stability, also carries inherent risks. Chief among them is the risk of complacency, a phenomenon commonly referred to as the "resource curse." This paradox occurs when countries rich in natural resources fail to diversify their economies, leading to an overreliance on resource extraction at the expense of other sectors.

To diversify its economy, what Canada needs above all else is talent. Nations worldwide are fiercely competing to attract top talent, recognizing that a skilled workforce is crucial to driving technological advancement and economic resilience. Canada’s challenge is not a lack of appeal. The country is widely regarded as a desirable destination, offering a high quality of life, political stability, and a welcoming multicultural society. For many skilled professionals around the world, Canada represents an attractive option for building a future. Yet, despite this allure, Canada often struggles to fully capitalize on its ability to attract and, more importantly, retain the very talent it needs.

One of the most significant barriers is the mismatch between Canada’s open-door immigration policy and the underwhelming outcomes many immigrants face upon arrival. Canada attracts highly educated and experienced individuals, but too often these professionals find themselves underemployed due to systemic barriers in the labor market. Credential recognition remains a substantial hurdle, particularly in regulated professions such as healthcare, engineering, and education.

The challenge also extends to the private sector. While Canada has a robust public sector and a thriving resource economy, its startup ecosystem and technology sectors lag behind those of the United States and other global innovation hubs. A combination of high taxes, a risk-averse investment culture, and regulatory hurdles makes it difficult for many tech startups to scale, leading to a loss of entrepreneurial talent. Canada produces brilliant minds in its universities, but without a supportive infrastructure for startups and tech innovation, many of these individuals either leave or never get the opportunity to maximize their potential.

Another contributing factor is Canada’s approach to talent development. The country has made considerable investments in higher education, and Canadian universities consistently rank among the best globally. However, there is a disconnect between academic training and the demands of the job market. Graduates often emerge with skills that do not fully align with current labor needs, particularly in high-growth areas like artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, and data analytics. This skills gap means that despite having a pool of educated individuals, employers often struggle to find the specific expertise they require, leading to both unemployment and unfilled job vacancies.

Immigration has long been a cornerstone of Canada's growth strategy. However, recent surveys reveal a notable shift in Canadian attitudes towards immigration. According to the Fall 2024 Environics Institute survey, 58% of Canadians now believe the country accepts too many immigrants, a sharp 31-point increase over the past two years. This marks the highest level of concern regarding immigration since 1998, suggesting a widespread apprehension that cuts across various segments of society. Canadians cite several underlying factors: the severe lack of affordable housing, the economic strain on services, and the perception of poor government management. These issues are amplifying doubts about the nation’s capacity to support newcomers without compromising the well-being of current residents. There is also growing skepticism surrounding refugee claims, as well as concerns about whether newcomers are successfully integrating into Canadian culture.

These sentiments were echoed in a 2023 Leger survey, where over half of respondents expressed that the government’s annual target of accepting 500,000 immigrants was excessively high. More strikingly, 75% of Canadians voiced concerns about increased pressures on housing and social services, two areas that are already struggling to keep up with existing demand. These findings collectively indicate that, despite Canada’s historical openness to immigration, a significant proportion of its population now harbors doubts about whether the current approach is sustainable.

Yet, the debate around immigration in Canada goes beyond mere numbers; it also centers around how effectively the country is able to integrate those who arrive. If Canada cannot enable new immigrants to thrive and fully contribute, one must ask: why does it maintain such an open-door policy?

What Can Canadian Hongkongers Do?

No doubt, Canada is not without its flaws. Canada has to deal with a lot of typical first-world problems. Some of us from Hong Kong may find adjusting to these new circumstances challenging, while others might be disappointed and frustrated by the politics.

However, Canada, a place some of us call home, also offers a peaceful environment and a decent standard of living. Many of us moved to Canada because it is an open, free and accommodating society. In any open society we will come across ideas and people different from us. The key is how we reconcile our differences, gain mutual respect and understanding.

Can Canada be better than what it is now? Absolutely. But it cannot become a better nation through elections. Election only reflects of prevailing social sentiments. Electoral politics does not change the narratives that define how we see the world.

Democracy is not merely about electing leaders; it is about nurturing a vibrant civil society where diverse voices collectively shape the social fabric and influence public policy.

For Canadian Hongkongers who wish to reshape the narrative, our goal should be to amplify our presence in the civic space. This means gaining a stronger "share of voice" in public discussions. By participating more actively—whether through advocacy groups, think tanks, community organizations, or public forums—we can help shape the policies that affect us.

Specifically, if we seek to push for a more open and accommodating credential recognition policy, we need to build broad support within Canadian society. Such a shift will not happen in isolation or without engagement. It requires Canadian Hongkongers to present a compelling, evidence-based case that demonstrates how a more inclusive credential policy benefits not just immigrant communities but also Canada as a whole. We also need to move beyond our immediate circles and reach out to other communities. Ultimately, a healthy democracy thrives when citizens actively shape the direction of their communities.

Over the years, I’ve received requests from those eager to dive deeper into the world of economics. While there are plenty of resources available for those who want to study the subject, I understand that many of you are looking for something more personal, something that reflects my unique perspective on these fundamental concepts.

Well, here it is.

I’m currently working on a new book that distills the entire field of economics into just one core concept: cost.

Cost is the very foundation of every economic decision. If an action carries no cost, there’s no decision to be made. Economics begins and revolves around the notion of cost, but it’s often misunderstood or oversimplified. My goal is to break down this concept in a way that’s both practical and insightful, giving you a fresh understanding of the decisions we all make.

Part 1: The Fundamentals of Economic Decision-Making

The first part of the book will focus on the basics, i.e. opportunity cost. I’ll also delve into how cognitive biases cloud our decision-making, e.g. sunk cost fallacy and reflect on the nature of rationality. What does it mean to be rational, and is it always necessary? I’ll explore the link between modernity and rationality, questioning the assumptions that guide our everyday choices.

Part 2: Competition—Bigger Isn’t Always Better

Next, I’ll turn the spotlight on market competition and the myth that scaling up is always the key to success. Many believe that success in business is all about driving down the average costs through scaling, but in reality, bigger isn’t always better. I’ll explore how the pursuit of economies of scale can lead to fierce competition, where profits are eroded, and only the consumers win. I’ll also discuss strategies businesses use to deter competition—and why monopolies succeed only when government plays a part.

Part 3: Public Policy—The Illusion of Cost-Benefit Analysis

In the third section, we’ll move into public policy and the messy reality behind cost-benefit analysis. While textbooks talk about market failures and public goods, the truth is that real-world decisions often suffer from mismatches—those who bear the costs aren’t always the ones who benefit. I’ll introduce public choice theory, showing why governments are no better equipped to solve what the market can’t. We’ll also tackle misunderstood concepts like public goods, externalities, and network effects, diving into how these issues shape infrastructure and the digital economy.

Part 4: Time and Uncertainty

In the final section, I’ll explore the relationship between time, risk, and uncertainty. We’ll discuss the concept of time and the time value of money, where interest is not just the decision made by the Federal Reserve, but the market clearing price for money in the future. I’ll also challenge the conventional distinctions between money and debt. Ultimately, this section will offer readers a fresh perspective on what uncertainty is an what we can do about it.

One More Reason Why I’m Writing this Book

This book isn’t just an intellectual exercise, it’s also an experiment in using technology.

While all the ideas, writing, and structure of the book are mine, Generative AI will play a crucial role throughout the process. From research and fact-checking to editing, translation and even marketing, AI will assist me at every stage.

This unique collaboration will also become the subject of another project, a book that documents my experience of using AI to enhance creativity and productivity. I want to challenge myself and explore how this partnership with AI can push the boundaries of what’s possible for solo creators like me.

Stay tuned for more updates as I move forward with this exciting project. Meanwhile, please enjoy the review of the project I generated with Google’s Notebook LM.

Let me cut right to the chase: in the not-so-distant future, many small and medium-sized businesses are going to disappear. Why? Because of disintermediation. The market is shifting into a "barbell" structure. On one end, we’ve got these massive corporations, and on the other, there are solo entrepreneurs and small players running lean operations. If you’re somewhere in the middle, you’re probably getting squeezed out.

Inflation is one of the central issues in the upcoming election, and Kamala Harris’ campaign is no exception in addressing it. Her solution? Ban price gouging. On the surface, it’s an easy sell—attack the big, bad corporations and promise lower prices. But anyone with even a passing understanding of economics knows this is political theater at its finest. If passing laws could fix all our problems, we’d be living in a utopia already.

The reality is that every action has consequences, and in this case, the cure could be worse than the disease.

Let’s break it down: What happens when you start regulating prices? What are the costs if it even works? And if it doesn’t—well, you’re still left with plenty of costs and unintended consequences. Before we dive into specifics, let’s take a step back and ask a fundamental question: Is it even moral to regulate prices?

Consumers, of course, want everything as cheap as possible. Businesses, on the other hand, want to sell their goods at the highest price they can. So, if greed is the sin politicians like to demonize, we’re all guilty. But in politics, where winning is about numbers, it’s easier to play to the majority. There are more consumers than producers, so blaming the “few”—businesses, corporations—has always been the go-to strategy to appease the masses. So, it’s not about morality. It’s simply political maneuvering.

People still ask, “Why can’t businesses just make less profit in tough times? Can’t they sell for cheaper?”

This question assumes that prices are arbitrary, set by corporate greed. But in reality, markets don’t work like that. Sure, lowering prices is a valid business strategy in a competitive market, but not everyone can do it. In fact, big corporations often do use price cuts to drive out competition, especially small businesses. Why? Because they benefit from economies of scale. The bigger they get, the lower their average cost, so they can afford to cut prices in ways that smaller players simply can’t.

Politicians love to pounce on this dynamic, accusing big corporations of pushing out small businesses and then jacking up prices once they’ve cornered the market. Sounds like a great story, right? The problem is, it's largely fiction. It’s the politics and bureaucracy that kill small businesses. But the political rhetoric gave birth to antitrust laws. Let’s be honest: these laws often miss the mark. The real problem isn’t monopolies; it’s bad economics.

Now, let’s talk about another favorite tool of government: taxes. When price controls don’t work—and they won’t—governments turn to taxation as a way to punish businesses for making “too much” money. From their perspective, it’s killing two birds without even having a stone to begin with. Politicians get to collect more revenue while scoring political points by claiming they’re fighting corporate greed. But does this actually make goods cheaper for consumers? Not at all. Big corporations can afford to hire brigades of accountants to navigate the tax code and minimize their liabilities. Meanwhile, small and medium-sized businesses—those who can’t afford the same resources—end up bearing the brunt of the tax burden. It’s the same story with personal taxation: the rich find ways to pay less, and the middle class ends up picking up the tab.

“But can’t we just regulate the big corporations and leave the small businesses alone?” Nice idea, but big businesses have lawyers for that. They can break themselves into smaller units, creating layers of complexity that evade simplistic regulatory solutions. Corporations are, after all, just legal fictions. However, breaking up companies isn’t free—it imposes costs that ripple through the entire market. And here’s where it gets even more complicated: two businesses in the same industry can look like they’re doing the same thing, but in reality, they operate under completely different business models.

Take McDonald’s, for example. To the casual observer, it’s a fast-food chain. But in truth, McDonald’s is more of a real estate and franchise business. Its franchisees are the ones running the individual stores—small business owners, technically. So how do you regulate that? Compare that with a local food truck selling hamburgers. Sure, they’re both selling burgers, but their economic realities couldn’t be more different. This raises a tough question: how do we even define an industry? Economists try to measure cross-elasticities and come up with definitions, but in the real world, things are a lot messier than what’s written in textbooks.

That brings us back to price controls. If the government regulates prices, you’re going to see two things happen—shortages and black markets. It’s inevitable. When prices are artificially kept low, producers lose the incentive to supply goods. So, we get shortages. At the same time, black markets thrive because people who can access the goods will sell them at much higher prices outside the regulated system. This is where real price gouging happens—driven by the very regulations meant to stop it. Consumer welfare doesn’t improve with price controls. In fact, it gets worse. Yet, politicians and the public cling to the idea that “greed” is the culprit, when in reality, it's the policy itself causing harm.

So, what’s the solution to high prices? Let’s think like economists. There are only two ways out: increase supply or reduce demand. Increasing supply is tough, and if it were easy, businesses would have already done it because there’s profit to be made. In a world of limited resources, supply doesn’t just expand magically. It expands when there’s enough profit incentive, but politicians loathe the idea that some people might profit from meeting demand.

Can governments suppress demand? Not really. There’s an entire industry—marketing—dedicated to discovering and fulfilling demand. The idea of artificially suppressing it is laughable, and “dismarketing” is yet to be a valid discipline. And even when governments try, say by banning certain goods or heavily taxing them, demand doesn’t just disappear. It shifts. Black markets rise. People find alternatives. Demand is an organic, constantly shifting force. The idea that government can simply clamp down on it is absurd.

Now, let’s circle back to the morality argument. Most people’s morality is fluid, determined by what they like or don’t like. They think profit-seeking is immoral because they’re on the consumer side of the equation. But if you’re running a business, especially in a volatile economy, making a profit is survival, not greed. True morality should be universal. If something is wrong, it’s wrong regardless of who’s doing it. Take theft, for example: no one wants to be robbed, so we all agree that stealing is immoral. But can governments stop theft entirely? Of course not.

This is why, as a classical liberal, I don’t put much faith in using powers and politics to solve fundamental problems. If we’ve learned anything over the millennia, it’s that government action often makes things worse.

Legislation isn’t going to solve the problem of inflation or high prices. If it were that easy, we wouldn’t need politicians. Price controls, punitive taxes, heavy-handed regulations, and even planned economies are blunt instruments that don’t address the root causes of the issue.

We should focus instead on making sure prices reflect reality, and letting the market do what it does: fulfilling demand. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we have.

As a Hong Konger, I have witnessed firsthand how institutions can crumble when an authoritarian regime, such as the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), undermines and eventually erodes the institutions of a once free and open society. The CCP, often thinking of themselves as playing the long game, has systematically dismantled Hong Kong's freedoms and institutions. For years, the people of Hong Kong have struggled and fought for universal suffrage as a crucial safeguard of individual liberty.

We failed, so we hope Taiwan will flourish as a shining example of a Liberal Democracy.

While Taiwan has achieved universal suffrage, societal and political institutions do not operate in isolation or a vacuum. The interplay and intricacies of different institutions can reinforce or undermine each other, depending on whether their roles and functions are rationally reconciled. Therefore, progress toward constitutionalism is needed for this nascent liberal democracy to withstand the challenges from within and without. The political deadlock presents not a crisis but a window of opportunity to reflect on what will create long-term sustaining success for the island nation.

Recent Conflicts and Political Deadlock

Recent conflicts in Taiwan have highlighted the underlying tensions within its political system.

The two main opposition parties, the Kuomintang (KMT) and Taiwan People's Party (TPP), which have enough seats for a majority, have joined hands to back changes that give parliament greater scrutiny over the government. One proposal is for lawmakers to punish officials deemed to commit contempt of parliament by making false statements or "withholding information."

However, critics argue that the legislative proposal also lacks a clear definition and that the move is more about partisan advantage than the public good.

This legislation has ignited protests from DPP supporters as there was little discussion on the bill. The deadlock reveals partisan bickering, which might leave some people disheartened about politics and public civil discourse.

Judiciary Oversight, Constitutionalism, and Separation of Powers

The Judicial Yuan, Taiwan's judicial branch, oversees all court systems, including the Constitutional Court, which interprets the Constitution and adjudicates significant cases. In the early years of Taiwan's democratization, when the ruling Kuomintang (KMT) dominated all branches of government, the Judicial Yuan was often perceived as merely an apparatus of the regime. However, it has gained much more respect over the years, especially regarding the judiciary's independence.

The rule of law requires a robust, nonpartisan, and independent judiciary to ensure that all institutions are subject to and accountable under the law. While parliaments are powerful and can legislate on a wide range of issues, their powers are not absolute. Judicial oversight means laws passed by the legislature must comply with the Constitution and legislative due process and ultimately serve to protect individual rights from potential overreach. If a law is found to violate constitutional principles or any procedural impropriety, the judiciary has the authority and responsibility to strike it down.

Instead of giving parliament the power to punish members of the executive branch, Taiwan should further empower its judiciary and guarantee its absolute independence to enhance its resilience as a democratic nation. An independent nonpartisan judiciary will not only be able to resolve political impasses, but even if the said legislation is passed, it will uphold the constitutional principles.

I am not advocating for judicial activism. However, it is far more desirable to take the issue to the court than to the street, especially when it comes to constitutionality, legality, and procedural propriety.

Partisanship, Parliamentary Customs, and Political Culture

Democracy is not just about electoral politics but also rational debate, which leads to consensus-building and ultimately protects individual rights. Should Taiwan fail to move from antagonistic partisanship and build consensus on constitutional reform, the nascent liberal democracy might eventually degenerate into populism and a crisis that could bring down its institutions.

Taiwan is not the only nation facing the challenge of overcoming the rising tide of populism. Having said that, I am optimistic that the Taiwanese people can eventually make the right decision. The transformation will not be easy, but it is necessary for Taiwan's society's stability and progress.

The transformation requires a sublimation in the political culture and how people understand democracy. Elected representatives must be mindful that they represent not just the people who voted for them but the general interests of the nation as a whole.

A properly functioning parliament is not just about winning enough seats to control the parliament under simple majority rule. The parliament fails if it puts partisan interests above the general interests of the people.

In some other established liberal democracies, mechanisms are often built in to ensure that even minority political representations have ample opportunity to participate. For instance, parliamentary commissions have formal or informal customs requiring bipartisan or multiparty formation. This inclusiveness ensures that discussions are comprehensive and diverse perspectives are considered.

On critical issues such as safeguarding fundamental freedoms, societal diversity, and cohesion, elected officials and civil society need to find common ground through principled, reasoned, and civilized debate in the public sphere.

Although it might seem disheartening to see people taking the issues to the street, the public voicing their opinions is a necessary part of the discourse, and freedom of expression must be defended at all costs.

An Opportunity for Taiwan

Taiwanese people have struggled for freedom in the past decades, which gives us hope that the nation can prevail and eventually come to a consensus.

Taiwan's nascent democratic institution, having just emerged from authoritarian rule since the late 1980s, has not yet had the chance to fully develop a robust constitutional framework, including a culture and a mechanism for coming to a consensus or an empowered independent judiciary to check the power of the two other branches of government.

Taiwanese people undoubtedly embrace liberty and their way of life as they are. The question is how to do it. Some might believe building a global presence and strengthening ties with major powers will help. But at the end of the day, nation-building requires robust underlying institutions to bring people together for collective interests.

Mainland Chinese living across the strait will also be watching. Although ultra-nationalistic sentiment and the narrative of one China are dominant in the mainland, a liberal democratic Taiwan that is sustainable and flourishing will make mainland Chinese question the legitimacy of the oppressive regime they are living under.

To put it simply, the Chinese Communist Party is afraid of not only Taiwanese independence but also its people asking questions of why they do not deserve a better institution like the one in Taiwan.

This moment presents an opportunity for the new DPP administration to establish its legacy and legitimacy as a liberal democratic leader. By leading the discussion on constitutional reform, strengthening the institution, and transcending partisan politics, the DPP can play a pivotal role in building a more resilient and inclusive democratic system.

Lastly, I hope my Hong Konger brethren who find a new home in Taiwan can play a constructive role in the public discourse. Taiwan's success can demonstrate to the world that an ethnically and culturally East Asian society can thrive as a shining example of modern liberal democracy. Strengthening the liberal democratic institution would benefit Taiwan's citizens and serve as a beacon of hope for those aspiring to freedom and democracy in the region and beyond.

The specter of the Cold War continues to haunt us.

In an essay written in 1945, George Orwell introduced the term "Cold War" with prescient clarity, capturing an era where nuclear arsenals promised mutual destruction and rendered total conquest impossible. This led to perpetual tension, a world caught in a seemingly endless cycle of suspicion and power play. This idea inspired his creation of the dystopian reality in "1984."

And here we are, in the Cold War that never ends.

We have unwittingly stepped into its sequel. Those of you familiar with television dramas know that the second season always builds on the past, yet twists the plot in unexpected ways. The collapse of the Soviet Union was such a twist; it was a catalyst that awakened the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to the indispensable power of global financial influence. One year after the Soviet dissolution, Deng Xiaoping addressed the CCP, saying, "reform, or perish" (誰不改革誰就下台); his statement aims not at any particular individual CCP cadre but at the collective ethos of the Party.

This is what the CCP wants: to remain in power at all costs. To do that, it must curtail Western influence in China, Asia, and beyond.

From the CCP's vantage point, 1991 was not just about the Soviet collapse. The subsequent democratization of South Korea and Taiwan, and the social upheavals in Central Asia and the Middle East, were signs of Western encroachment. Putin's Russia and the CCP coined the term "The Color Revolution," reflecting their deep-seated anxiety.

With Russia's diminished stature, the CCP sees a need to fill the void. A strategic outline emerged around 2000. Joshua Cooper Ramo, a director of Kissinger Associates, dubbed the idea the "Beijing Consensus." It was a blueprint for advocating for less developed economies to adopt an alternative approach to development, one that includes the right of sovereign nations to remain authoritarian and to resist the economic and political paradigms enforced by the West.

So, who heeds the CCP's call? Look no further than Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the Belt and Road cohort; this is the region once influenced by Soviet presence, now courted by China. The CCP's outreach is strategic, not coincidental. It leverages the vacuum left by the USSR, inserting itself as the new center of gravity.

While many people like to understand the CCP through the lens of political realism, anxious over geopolitics, I prefer to analyze their behavior as if they are rational agents with simple motives: to stay in power and to maximize personal interests over collective ones. Ideological labels, such as socialism, nationalism, or "whateverism," are mere convenient veneers for the CCP's survival.

Nationalism is the CCP's most potent strategy, but it is a double-edged sword. The CCP is acutely aware of the make-or-break nature of nationalism but has no choice but to deploy it, especially as its economy falters and the regime fails to deliver on its promise to lift six hundred million Chinese in rural areas out of poverty.

Some of us in the free world view China merely as a competitor, but the CCP perceives everything that exists, domestically and globally, as an existential threat. This is why the CCP rejects a rule-based global system and convinces itself and others that the status quo is nothing but a Western ploy to maintain dominance.

For years, we in the free world harbored hopes that China's economic liberalization would bring political freedom. The CCP sees this as how the West weaponizes economic might against it; therefore, it is doing exactly the same thing to the rest of us, weaponizing economic might to advance its political agenda.

From 1986 to 1989, we witnessed how the CCP closed the "Narrow Corridor" for liberalization. The Tiananmen Square crackdown and the Soviet demise solidified the CCP's resolve to fortify its control, especially over the financial system.

Under the façade of "One Country, Two Systems," the CCP accesses the benefits of the global economic order while insulating itself behind a firewall. The "One Country, Two Systems" policy is not a pledge to Hong Kong, but a survival strategy for the CCP.

The new Cold War revolves around China's quest to succeed where the Soviet Union failed: to reshape the global economic and financial order. From the Beijing Consensus to the Belt and Road Initiative to courting the Global South, the CCP's agenda is deceptively alluring, especially to some in the progressive left living in the free world.

But as we stand here today, we should bear in mind that "1984" was not just a cautionary tale for those behind the iron curtain, but a warning to all of us. Don’t fall prey to a totalitarian regime disguised in the trappings of power, at home and abroad.

This is my prepartory note for the panel discussion at Freedom & Progress 2023 on Nov 6, 2023. The subject of the panel discussion is “The New Cold War with China.”

This morning, I came across a news report about Li Ka-Shing.

The Singaporean authority filmed Li Ka-Shing for the centenary commemoration of Lee Kuan Yew's life. Li Ka-shing's participation was a textbook example of public relations, and it made perfect sense for him to honor the Lee family of Singapore. After all, it's reasonable to assume that Li’s values align closely with Lee Kuan Yew's values.

On a related note, I've observed that the Singaporean authority, particularly Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong, excels at leveraging the internet and social media for political propaganda. If you browse YouTube, you'll likely encounter videos where Lee Hsien Loong discusses Singapore's governance strategies and achievements.

Let me be clear: I'm not singing praises of Singapore or elevating Lee Kuan Yew. I simply admire their mastery of public relations and strategy. Unlike Hong Kong, which has nothing but empty slogans, Singapore's propaganda is the real work of masters.

To reiterate, I'm not lauding Singapore. When I initially created my YouTube channel, I had a video discussing Singapore that surprisingly attracted many viewers, including Singaporeans. Some comments suggested that comparing Hong Kong to Singapore was unfair—not out of humility, but because they felt Hong Kong couldn't measure up.

One more thing: I generally avoid discussing individuals. I dislike personality-focused debates and don't want to fall into the trap of thinking that "great men" shape history. In reality, circumstances often create heroes. Some people, like Li Ka-shing and Lee Kuan Yew, happened to be in the right place at the right time to seize these opportunities.

So, when Li Ka-shing participates in a video commemorating Lee Kuan Yew's centenary, it carries potent symbolic significance.

If you were to ask Chinese people worldwide who best represents Singapore, most would say Lee Kuan Yew. Conversely, if you asked who epitomizes Hong Kong, the likely answer would be Li Ka-shing.

The collaboration between these iconic figures for the centenary celebration is laden with profound implications.

When Li Ka-Shing posed a question to ChatGPT comparing Singapore and Hong Kong, he received a diplomatically balanced answer, stating that the two cities are both competitors and collaborators.

Li Ka-Shing found this response "interesting," but anyone familiar with Generative AI knows that it is very common for machines to churn out generic, ambivalent responses.

What caught my attention was Li Ka-Shing's subsequent commentary. He reflected on Lee Kuan Yew's early policies in Singapore, which some might consider authoritarian today. He said, "In the context of their era and historical backdrop, there was no room for laxity. The focus was on improving people's livelihoods and building the future. This, in essence, was the most humane approach, and I deeply admire him for that."

In the 1960s, Lee Kuan Yew initially aspired to lead his compatriot to govern the “Great Malaya” but he was ultimately compelled to make Singapore stand on its own. Few recognize Singapore's meticulous efforts in racial integration, ever since its founding. It was a response to Malaysia's racial policies that led to their separation.

While many post-colonial societies veered towards nationalism, Singapore built a multi-ethnic society from scratch. This was groundbreaking, especially considering that in the same period, the U.S. was still grappling with civil rights issues.

Singapore's policies, such as its housing policy, are not just about housing but also aim to foster racial integration and social harmony.

Can Hong Kong undergo a similar transformation? To change Hong Kong's system, we must also change its social culture and civil society. Beijing has long considered adopting the "Singapore model" for Hong Kong. However, unlike Singaporean officials who have the autonomy to address issues, can Hong Kong achieve the same level of independence?

Li Ka-shing concluded, "The limitless opportunities Singapore has created from nothing make its people genuinely proud. This is the epitome of great leadership."

Perhaps Li Ka-shing genuinely misses his "friend" Lee Kuan Yew. Unfortunately, in today's Hong Kong, even mentioning a leader who guided a nation to independence is politically incorrect. Li Ka-shing's comments, therefore, are likely to spark various speculations.

Hong Kong government officials are often reluctant to draw comparisons with Singapore. Yet, the growing impatience among Hong Kong's property tycoons suggests a broader societal discontent.

There's also a palpable sense of disappointment with Hong Kong's current state, but some still hold out hope for a better future. I believe Li Ka-Shing is among them; otherwise, why would he inquire about the relationship between Hong Kong and Singapore?

At their core, Hong Kong and Singapore are fundamentally different, yet they face similar macro-environmental challenges. In the past, mainland Chinese who couldn't accomplish certain tasks at home would turn to Hong Kong, for financing, investment, and other financial services. Similarly, Westerners unable to invest in China directly would also come to Hong Kong. This city once seamlessly bridged these two worlds, thanks to its unique position — close to mainland China yet distinct in its administrative, political, and legal systems.

Those days are gone. The world is waking up to the reality that Hong Kong's status as an international financial center isn't Beijing's to bestow—it must be globally recognized. Meanwhile, Singapore is capitalizing on its advantageous position, gradually absorbing roles once filled by Hong Kong.

Some perceive Singapore as pro-China, while others see it as pro-U.S. In my view, Singapore is neither; it simply acts with the sovereignty befitting an independent nation. Since its inception, Singapore has navigated pressures from all sides while maintaining its stance. Hong Kong, too, was once a city that thrived in the narrowest of margins, often described as a "borrowed place on borrowed time." Perhaps it's this existential threat that drives both cities to continually evolve.

From demographics, and natural resources, to geopolitics, Singapore holds significant advantages. With the rise of South and Southeast Asia, coupled with a burgeoning population, Singapore is better positioned to meet the financial needs of these nations.

Let's face it: Singapore has surpassed Hong Kong in many aspects. Although Hong Kong's elites may disdain comparisons with Singapore, there's a growing admiration for the "Singapore model" among both Beijing and Hong Kong's power brokers.

Many believe that the difference between Hong Kong and Singapore lies in the competence of their governing officials. However, I argue that the real distinction is in the societal systems and structures. Hong Kong's administrative apparatus was never designed for high-level intervention in society and markets.

I once visited a community center in Singapore, complete with a library, sports facilities, and a swimming pool. Designed for the average citizen, it was practical yet elegant, all built for around three billion dollars. This infrastructure is part of their social policy, which also includes software like community care groups, with their own financial budget.

In contrast, Hong Kong can spend billions on a pedestrian bridge that no one uses. This stark difference highlights the inefficiency in Hong Kong's public financial management. Bureaucrats here in Hong Kong have long viewed money merely as a tool to solve problems, they seldom go beyond the superficial nor do they address the root issues.

Singapore has consistently outperformed Hong Kong in fiscal governance. During the 1998 Asian financial crisis, I conducted a simple data collection and found that Singapore's government expenditure as a percentage of GDP was similar to Hong Kong's, despite Singapore bearing military costs. This raises questions about where Hong Kong's money is actually going.

Both Hong Kong and Singapore are small, open economies sensitive to economic cycles. When Hong Kong faces economic downturns, so does Singapore. Yet, why does it seem that Hong Kongers harbor more grievances? Hong Kong officials claim to bring "happiness" to its citizens, but who defines this elusive "happiness"?

Singaporeans have a high level of trust in their government; over 40% even say they don't need to criticize it. If Hong Kong's government had such approval ratings, they'd be celebrating.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not advocating for Hong Kong to adopt Singapore's big-government approach. Rather, I've noticed that Hong Kong's progress halted after the 1997 Asian financial crisis and the handover of sovereignty. If we want to rejuvenate Hong Kong, how far back should we look? Many would argue that the 1990s should serve as our starting point, prompting us to consider what made Hong Kong successful back then.

What environmental factors can we not replicate? What internal elements enabled us to seize opportunities in that context? I used to believe that Hong Kong's public finance and monetary policies were superior to Singapore's, but now I'm not so sure. Hong Kong is on the brink of a fiscal cliff, and systemic changes are only a matter of time.

Perhaps these questions could be posed to ChatGPT or even Li Ka-Shing: "What has Hong Kong lost from the 1990s to today?"

I believe this question is far more intriguing than simply comparing Hong Kong to Singapore.

If you're interested in a success story about the subscription economy, look no further than Apple Daily.

We launched our subscription model in 2019, and within just three months, we skyrocketed from zero to nearly 800,000 subscribers. For context, it took the New York Times almost five years to reach one million paid subscribers.

When we started Apple Daily in 1995, we soon adopted a hybrid model—Hong Kong's best-selling newspaper, with the city’s busiest website.

However, 2014 proved to be a critical year for us. Online advertising revenue began to decline, largely due to competition from social media. Our print business struggled, and it became clear that advertising was no longer a viable business model for us.

Apple Daily needed to transform.

I had discussed the potential of transforming the organization with Jimmy Lai since late 2016. But it wasn't until 2018 that I was brought in again to explore a subscription-based model.

We knew we would no longer be selling "paper," as such transactional models were becoming obsolete. However, we had no clue how to generate revenue from subscriptions.

In the subscription economy, everyone claims to focus on customers rather than products. But what do Netflix and Spotify sell besides movies and music? Aren't those products too?

Apple Daily had a clear advantage, one that even Netflix and Spotify didn't possess: we defined and drove Hong Kong's culture. We had lasting relationships with our customers that no one else had.

I insisted that we call our customers "members" instead of "subscribers." We were not only building a business but also a community of Hong Kong people. Our vision was to transform ourselves into a platform from which other content and service providers could benefit due to our massive reach.

However, this vision diverged significantly from our origins as a newspaper company. I faced considerable internal resistance, with many colleagues questioning why a news organization needed a department for events or services. Fast-forwarding a few years, I could have told my colleagues that our vision resembled Patreon or Substack.

Transitioning from a product-centric to a customer-centric mindset is challenging, especially for a news organization with many strong egos. We were aware of potential issues and risks, such as subscription fatigue. It wasn't an easy exercise. To this day, no other media organization in Hong Kong has taken the risk of overhauling its media business into a subscription model, besides us.

In hindsight, the subscription model was a natural evolution for us, and we were well-positioned to adopt it. The technology was ready, and consumers were becoming more accustomed to the concept. Most importantly, we were confident that Apple Daily represented the voice of the people. If Apple Daily had survived, we could have united other like-minded Hong Kong people to create a pro-democratic movement harnessing the power of the platform economy.

We might have transformed Hong Kong's public sphere. Perhaps that's why the Hong Kong government went to great lengths to shut us down.

Apple Daily ceased operations on June 24, 2021.

Yet, many Hong Kong people refused to delete the Apple Daily app from their phones, turning it into a symbol of nostalgia, a reminder of what Hong Kong once was.

The 15th-century introduction of the printing press led to the increased distribution of literary works, prompting writers to seek protection for their intellectual property. In 17th-century England, the Licensing Act of 1662 granted limited rights to authors, providing them exclusive control over the printing and distribution of their works. This early form of copyright protection marked a significant step in recognizing the value of creative works and the importance of providing authors a means to profit from their intellectual endeavors.

As we enter an age of AI and abundant information, adaptation and embracing new ideas become crucial.

Advertising vs Subscription: The Two Basic Media Business Models

The emergence of advertising as a business model coincided with the 20th-century rise of mass media. Advertising-based business models shaped the media landscape by generating revenue for content creators and providing audiences with free or subsidized access to information and entertainment.

Subscription and paid models have persisted as alternatives, particularly for media outlets catering to niche audiences. These models deliver exclusive, high-quality content, charging subscription fees or requiring direct payment, ensuring a sustainable revenue stream.

AI and the End of Media Business As Usual

The proliferation of AI-generated content presents a new challenge.

The resulting flood of information will cause advertising "real estate" to skyrocket, leading to a decline in the average advertising dollar, and making traditional content production less viable. The overload of information has already caused a deficit in attention. Google and Facebook are busy fighting the massive inflation of content created almost at zero cost.

As AI becomes adept at creating diverse and engaging content, the perceived value of paid, exclusive information may diminish. Algorithms themselves cannot be copyrighted as they are considered mathematical formulas or abstract ideas. Copyright law protects original creative expressions but does not extend to ideas, facts, systems, or methods of operation.

There is debate on whether machine-generated content cannot and should be copyrighted. The prevailing viewpoint agrees that granting machine-generated content copyright could potentially result in numerous claims, overwhelming the legal system and hindering innovation by restricting access and reuse of machine-generated works.

Copyrights protect intellectual property, while paywalls monetize that protected content by limiting access to paying subscribers. If contents are not copyrightable, will audiences be willing to pay for subscription services?

Non-copyrightable content will definitely "sneak" out of the paywall.

Remember this: “information wants to be free.”

Focus on Ideas and Experience, Not Information

What will drive the information and entertainment industry in the future?

The game industry is on the path to dominate the time we spend, especially when machines will greatly increase our productivity, thus leaving us with more time to experience life. Sports will be another area where people find excitement and participation.

Unlike mere information, ideas provide purpose, values, and motivation to act. In this post-copyright era, understanding and coming up with new ideas become increasingly important.

In my line with work, the answer to what I can do in the future lies in ideas.

Good ideas are rare, and great ideas are even rarer. To come up with new ideas, I actively seek out different perspectives, appreciate why people think differently, and evaluate ideas based on the evidence available.

It is not just the ideas or viewpoints, but how I interact and engage with my audience. Do I understand my audience’s state of mind? What kind of experience I am providing? This is why I am presenting the work myself, and polishing my presentation every day.

Most importantly, am I providing any value with fresh, different ideas?

While technology and machine learning can help us augment and disseminate ideas, bear in mind ideas are fundamentally rooted in the human experience. The creativity, empathy, and insight that humans possess serve as the foundation for the generation and understanding of ideas.