Art, business, code

It’s easily one of the most recognizable cliches of Martial Arts films: the Wise Old Zen Master, living alone in a picturesque dojo, who waits patiently for the as-legend-has-it warrior to climb the miles of staircase to begin receiving his own as-legend-has-it martial arts training.

The master is always portrayed as an absolutely brutal figure, unforgiving of the shortcomings shown in their young and inexperienced student. Simply finding His dojo and receiving His blessing takes years of a young warrior’s  life, and the student always makes the inevitable mistake of thinking the hard part is over when they finally show up on the Master’s doorstep.

And even though we’ve seen the same images in the same plots of so many of the same tired old Martial Arts films, we remain drawn to it. We empathize with both the master and the student, which is something that happens so rarely in films. We know the student will make it through the arduous learning process and become the greatest warrior in the nation’s history.

If we’re lucky there might even be a montage.

But back to the point. The reason we feel so deeply for the two characters is that their struggle is so complex and so timeless. There are layers of external tension between the master and the student, internal struggles within themselves, and broader themes of God and Country. 

It’s every great story that’s ever been told in any language ever written.  It’s the story of becoming the World’s Greatest by not only wanting it more than anybody else, but also legitimately working harder than everybody else.

But that’s still not the whole reason we’re drawn to the story. There’s still something else.

Greatness through sheer will, determination, and effort is seriously undervalued in our modern culture.

Watching the cheesy movie with the up-and-coming ninja walking miles uphill with buckets of water on his shoulders strikes us because we intrinsically know that this is the only clear path to greatness, but we too often push it aside for instant gratification.

And in the world of “new media” this is even more prevalent than anywhere else. Businesses are told they need a Myspace profile, and while they’re at it they should really register for Facebook and start a group for “fans” of their business to communicate. And a LinkedIn group for social networking of the more “businesslike” variety. And this new thing called Twitter is getting really hot so we should get ourselves on that, too, and make sure we aggregate it all together with our Flickr photos from the company picnic three summers ago onto a Friendfeed page, etc, etc, etc.

And what is the goal of all of this?  To “raise social capital.” Because somehow if you sponsor, brand, encourage, or “embrace” the conversations about your brand online, somehow you can convert these genuine social moments between real people into capital.

Seriously. Businesses both big and small are being tricked, by smaller and louder people taking advantage of the rapid pace and confusion, to believe that conversations between people online equates to actual dollar bills toward their bottom line.

But Facebook messages go unread, Twitter streams become RSS aggregators, and on and on until you’ve had the exact opposite effect you were looking for. You’ve become caught up in the volume and the pace without realizing the “experts” you’re allowing to advise you are really handing out flyers at the streetcorner of a dojo of their own:

It’s so easy to get caught up, confused, tricked, or swindled online, and frankly it takes so much more time and so very, very much more effort to become the master of the dojo on the hill. But which would you rather be?