Production vs Exploitation
Should you make something yourself or leverage the efforts of others?
Last updated
Should you make something yourself or leverage the efforts of others?
Last updated
Out in nature, there are birds which (like most animals) have evolved to take care of their young. They lay their eggs, keep them warm, then feed their chicks once they hatch. There's nothing unusual or surprising about this, but what is wild is that there are birds (such as the brown-headed cowbird) that have evolved to take advantage of this behavior for their own benefit.
Instead of raising their own chicks, these birds lay eggs that look very similar to the eggs of other bird species. These other birds then take care of the eggs and even feed the chicks that emerge! This is a zero-sum game for the mother bird, as space in the nest and food she distributes is limited. When a cowbird takes those resources, it helps the cowbird population and actively harms the mother bird's.
In biology this is called brood parasitism, and it's just one example of the difference between production (also known as investment) and exploitation.
In the natural world, producers like the nurturing birds invest their resources—time, energy, and care—into raising their offspring, a process essential for the continuation of their species. This investment, however, becomes vulnerable to exploitation by species like the cowbird, which have evolved to leverage the efforts of others for their benefit. The cowbird's strategy, while seemingly cunning, reflects a fundamental survival tactic: minimizing personal investment while maximizing gain.
This dynamic of production and exploitation isn't confined to the avian world; it’s a pattern that permeates human society. In various spheres—be it business, politics, or personal relationships—there are those who invest and build (producers) and those who leverage and exploit the investments of others (exploiters).
The producer’s role is characterized by creation and maintenance. This could be a business owner developing a company, a community leader fostering social cohesion, or an individual cultivating personal skills and relationships. The exploiter, in contrast, seeks to benefit from these creations without equivalent investment. They might manipulate systems, relationships, or resources to their advantage, often at the expense of the producers.
The dilemma for individuals and organizations lies in navigating this landscape of production and exploitation. It raises some fundamental ethical questions:
When does leveraging the efforts of others cross the line from smart strategy to unethical exploitation?
How does one protect their investments from being exploited while still engaging in collaborative, non-zero-sum relationships?
Is exploitation more acceptable when you're facing an existential risk such as an extreme resource shortage?
In some situations, the most efficient solution may indeed involve utilizing the efforts or resources of others. However, the line between collaboration and exploitation can be thin, and the reality is that the optimal decision often leads through other people rather than with them.
For example, entrepreneurs have to think about this trade-off all the time. It's common for business owners to work themselves nearly to death because they're producers by default. They can't accept the idea of exploitation, or they're so bad at it (due to overcontrol tendencies) that they leave a lot of money—and mental health—on the table.
Meanwhile, investors tend to take the exact opposite approach: their entire business model is based on leveraging the efforts of producers. But they sometimes struggle because they don't understand anything beyond that one lens, and businesses fall apart when they try to get too involved in operations.
There's an old novel about Hollywood written by Budd Schulberg called What Makes Sammy Run? The namesake of the book, Sammy Glick, represents some brutal truths about success. He's an inveterate predator, ruthlessly stealing the work of talented writers, then stamping his name on the finished pictures to boost himself up.
The narrator of the book is a writer himself, and he watches in amazement as Sammy catapults himself from a nobody into a superstar producer in a few years. Sammy appears to have minimal skills, beyond knowing how to plaster his name all over Hollywood and take credit for work he never did.
Although Sammy is a fictional character, he is a composite of real people who Budd Schulberg knew from his lifetime of Hollywood experience. Sammy ends up as a successful producer, but he's a hollow edifice of a person. His bank account is full, but it's clear by the end of the book that there isn't much below the surface. None of his relationships are real, and the "running" he does is to escape any kind of self-reflection or development.
Sammy is the archetype of exploitative strategy. He propels himself forward through the use of other people's resources—but if left without anyone to exploit, he'd have a very hard time getting anywhere. This story speaks volumes about how producers leave themselves open to exploitative strategies, which any producer (entrepreneurs, artists, etc.) should think long and hard about.
Likewise, if you're in a position to use these kinds of strategies, consider the long-term ramifications if you go too far. The consequences may be more severe than you expect. Or not—in many cases, exploitative strategies succeed and nothing happens. It's all contextual.
Overall, when solving problems in a complex environment, this is a critical dilemma to consider. Here are some of questions you're presented with in these situations:
Do you have the time, money and energy to come up with a novel solution entirely on your own?
If not, how can you leverage the productive capacities of others?
How far are you willing to go?
Only you can answer those questions, but I suggest you ponder where your personal line is. There are no right or wrong answers, only the residue each decision leaves on your life.