Kintsugi and the art of community management
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The tech industry can be a pretty unusual thing to work in. Not that the sector is so amazingly different from any other collections of humans, but we can probably agree that it has its quirks. Especially the clash of what is a diverse influx of technically skilled people and the roots of self-identification of what was once an outsider culture.
Now throw in elements of conflict-avoidant introversion. And long times locking ourselves away with technology. What could possibly go wrong?
Things? Oh things go wrong.
One of the topics that emerges with regularity in our industry is the impact of failure. Another is the friction that comes as part of intensely focused individuals teaming up with others like themselves to pursue world-changing ambitions. And then just as abruptly… not.
More than a few times I’ve sat with a friend of colleague while they recount some interaction or other in hushed tones. Typically some disagreement or falling out lingers as rumination. Especially in terms of the impact on a local tech or startup community — so often so full of bravado and critical comparison as we are.
These patterns of thinking are far from constructive. How terrible it must be to have fallen out with X! How awful to have failed at Y! Could we even show our face anymore? Self-exile? Run away? Never leave the house? Become robots in a freak late-night accident?
Here’s the thing. Not only does it not matter. But in the long run these skirmishes and slip-ups actually make the community stronger.
The Kintsugi thesis
Not only are these situations inevitable, they are pretty much essential. Both in our overall ecosystem, and in our own personal growth.
A tangent is often drawn to the Japanese art of Kintsugi — which effectively means “golden joinery”. This is an artform based around the repair of broken pottery with a mix of lacquer and often precious metals.
This juxtaposition of “the broken item rebuilt with veins of gold” creates a more valuable (and sometimes stronger) work of art. And one with a beautiful story wound throughout. And if there’s anything so firmly entrenched in my thinking about the startup ecosystem it’s that there are no forces more powerful than our own community narratives. Which begin always as human narratives — just think of the hero’s journey attributed to Steve Jobs.
So — broken bowl becomes beautiful work of art? And a stronger structure because of that process? It’s an easy analogy to appreciate.
Kintsugi thesis as community practice
As an industry we embrace and celebrate a risk-taking culture. Yet for all the startup funerals or medium post-mortems, it is still an extremely daunting prospect.
But it doesn’t need to be.
Much like the mundane pot elevating to a work of art, so can our communities and lives elevate to something more. Even companies failing and founders parting ways. The secret isn’t in some hippy magic beans but how we act as an audience to these events.
When a friend told me about his company calling it quits, I asked first what I could do to help, and second what he think he learned the most. Neither question required an immediate response. It takes time to feel all the feels, and both answers were better served on the other side of however many sleeps it took to get there.
What I didn’t do was dig for dirt. We don’t want to live in a cave after all. We ask about lessons learned and offer support because these are the building blocks of compassion for the community that we’re constructing.
It’s that simple.
Stronger over time
Just like breaking a bowl, the short term of these experiences can be uncomfortable and unfortunate. But just like repairing it with beautiful bands of gold, continuing to build with the muscle memory (and scar tissue) of experience not only increases the resilience of the overall ecosystem, but inevitably draws people back together for the sheer beauty of the shared experience.
After all, which would you rather say in ten years time?
“Remember that time we said nothing, did nothing, and became nothing?”
Or… or whatever narrative you’re writing right now.
Thanks for reading. I’ve set myself a personal challenge of writing and publishing daily for the month of March. Partly as an exercise in lean writing and partly to explore the impact of contributing these quick and raw narratives. This was day 14’s post — what did you think?
