When geography is history…
In a world where location is irrelevant and virtually anything can be done from anywhere, what is the point of human contact at work?
With the onset of Covid19, much has happened to change our relationship with work. Ways of working that would have been unacceptable, if not unimaginable, just a few years ago, has become our quotidian reality.
And of course, if there wasn’t enough written about ‘the future of work’ previously, the pandemic has put paid to that. Columns and columns, and inch upon inch, has been dedicated to prognostications about how we will work in the future.
What appears certain is that there is no returning to the normal that was. Along with ‘You are on mute’, the other phrase that will surely compete for the retrospective prize of ‘Most used phrase of 2020’ would surely be ‘the new normal’. One of the many changes that the pandemic has already wrought is in our relationship with work and our collective attitudes towards what is not only viable but also acceptable.
But the main determining factors of how and where we are best positioned to work haven’t really changed — they are as true today as they were a century ago. What has changed is the horizon of the possible aided in no small measure by advances in technology. Technology has enabled remote working across several dimensions — portable computers; the distributed access to data, the decentralised processing of data into information, and the subsequent centralised pooling and dissemination of that information; instantaneous peer to peer communication; virtual collaboration; and voice and video conferencing. We take much of this for granted today — but if one were to just pause and ponder the leaps and bounds of technological advancements in the last quarter of a century, it would become apparent that the remote working paradigm that we are able to conceptualise today were nigh on unimaginable three decades ago — the stuff of science fiction books and films.
Yet these technological tools were at our disposal in January last year, and the one before that and so on. The application of these tools to new ways of working has been the central plank of plans and policies for legions of management teams, city and real-estate planners, human resource heads and so on. But to embrace these policies at scale required a big bet on the future — on productivity, employee well-being, urban transportation, and city ecosystems. It required what many in the technology industry would call a ‘proof of concept’ — a pilot project that would be expansive and meaningful enough to assuage concerns and provide comfort around application and benefit. For all the havoc that the pandemic causes and the devastation it leaves in its wake, it has foisted upon the world a unique opportunity to conduct a social experiment at scale hitherto unprecedented. Aha! All of us — employees, employers, city planners, small business owners, legislators — now knew exactly what the ramifications of remote working at scale would be. And our predictions moved from the realm of the possible and untested to the real and tangible. Yes, the world said, this works! But remote working, in its current avatar — is that what we really want?
The Law of Unintended Consequences continues to remind us of its resilience and relevance to this day.
For the many purported benefits of remote working, including enhanced productivity, reduced commute times, reduced overhead costs, depleted business travel and cleaner environments, there have been signs of significant lateral repercussions.
Our town and city centres — hubs of enterprise, culture and entertainment- are already experiencing a near-fatal drain on their vitality. Small businesses that rely on throngs of commuters and office-folk for their livelihoods are deprived of their lifelines. Die-hard free economy advocates will argue that the brilliance of human civilisation lies in its ability to adapt. We will, as we always have. Like in the past, we should shatter the shackles of restrictions and let technology, capital and enterprise roll forward unfettered. They will find their natural high-water mark; societies will adapt and we will all be better for it. (A debatable premise no doubt!). But assuming for the moment that this is a principle, on balance, that we would like to abide by, then the hollowing out of our cultural centres and the decimation of businesses that have come to rely on the hitherto established ways of working is fair game. A small price to pay for the evolution of societies. The same businesses will adapt and move to where commerce will take them. Culture will wither where it is deprived of air and water and sprout in new pastures.
But there is something in this vision of the ‘new normal’ that does not sit well with me. I cannot put my finger on it just yet — but the idea that our digital avatars — because let’s face it: an email address, a video and audio manifestation of ourselves is literally that — are fully capable in every way to conduct and live life might hold water in a purely functional sense, but it leaves with me a feeling of restlessness and dissatisfaction.
A colleague said to me in jest the other day: ‘If everything could be done remotely, couldn’t we just get Boris to work remotely, like from Siberia?’ While many of his critics might see tremendous value in that tempting proposition, it does beg the question that in a world where anything and everything can be done remotely, what, if anything, is the relevance of geography. Has geography really become history?
I think not.
One of the central tenets of human societies is ‘community’. As I type these words, a voice in my head retorts — ‘surely, there are virtual communities??!’ Yes, I agree. But that is not the same. Human beings and societies have evolved on a foundation of ‘community’. At the very core of it all is empathy. Life is hard, work is hard, there is more to work that just completing an assignment, handling a call or meeting a deadline. As employees navigate the roller coaster rides that their work entails in the week, having a sympathetic ear, some friendly banter and a helping hand cannot be underestimated and should not be discounted as irrelevant superfluous niceties that can be done away with. When we have problems to overcome, knotty situations to tackle and challenges to address — we spur each other on, we dig deep, collectively conjure the strength and courage from flagging reserves. The challenges of working remotely, combatting our personal situations alone — whether those have to do with contending with toddlers, or aging parents, loneliness, or inadequate space — has cast a light on the urgency of mental health and the importance of well-being and resilience. I suppose the hard-nosed amongst us will have little time for the fluffy nature of these arguments and would argue that this too can be accounted for on a balance sheet — for in the ultimate analysis, isn’t the world as we know it today built on the premise of the survival of the fittest? Perhaps it could, and an adequate ‘remediation strategy to counter this risk’ will be found and put into execution.
But the ‘community’ is not just about rallying each other and helping those who need support. To my mind, community is the bedrock of innovative societies and the fountainhead of creativity. Migration from agrarian to industrial societies has been accompanied by corresponding shifts towards further urbanisation and congregation. The shift from labour intensive to knowledge economies has been underpinned by a gravitational pull towards central hubs that bring the best and brightest across academia, enterprise, and culture. It is no surprise that the fount of technological, academic, commercial, professional services and cultural prowess in the last few centuries have been nodes of congregation such as New York, London, Hong Kong, San Francisco, Florence, and Shanghai to name a few. It is in these fields of human mingling where ideas flow, coalesce, amalgamate and morph. This is where apprentices learn their craft, not by perusing an online user manual on their computer in a bedroom-study, but from learning from past masters and honing their skills. This is where, once the spreadsheets are worked and the accountants, lawyers and bankers are satisfied that deals are sealed by a handshake — where the whites of the eyes are seen and trust is established. This is where victories are celebrated, not by raising a virtual toast in isolation, but by hugs, kisses, bad jokes and raucous back-slapping. For all our clear-eyed predictions about the ‘future of work’, we should not discount the importance of these seemingly superfluous or inane interactions. Even in the ‘new-normal’, in a future where we would have learnt our lessons and evolved into a more hygienic, careful and socially distanced minded society, lets not lose sight of the vital importance of, yes, just being human.
