I have a habit of observation: every time I enter a new industry or circle, I first look around and try to identify which kind of person each of them is.
Not by their title — titles are the least reliable basis for classification — but by their behavioral patterns. How they make decisions, where their interests come from, and what they actually care about.
After watching long enough, I’ve found that no matter the industry, the people in it can roughly be divided into five kinds.
Five Roles
The Builder. Hacking through brambles, creating systems. Usually entrepreneurs, product leaders, or those who are genuinely “building things.” Their time horizon is long-term, because building a meaningful system can never be done in three months. Their hands are dirty, because people who actually do the work don’t have clean hands.
The Trader. Treats opportunity as a commodity and trades it short-term. They don’t care about long-term value, only about volatility. They make money when the market rises and make money when it falls — as long as there’s volatility. What they need isn’t stability, but turbulence.
The Investor. Amplifies industry progress through capital, with a long investment cycle, looking at trends rather than swings. Good investors are allies of builders — they provide the resources that let builders go further.
The Commentator. Their original function was to provide information and foster public dialogue. But most have degenerated into media figures who only read which way the wind is blowing. Their profit model is traffic — for them, the truth doesn’t matter; the audience’s “panic” and “euphoria” are the fuel.
The Follower. Has no opinions of their own, moving in and out short-term to the rhythm of the traders, rising and falling with the emotions of the commentators. They’ve worked for ten years, but in essence they’ve repeated the same single day for ten years.
Which one are you?
Seeing Through the Agenda
The point of understanding these five roles isn’t to make you “judge” who’s good and who’s bad — it’s to make you understand each role’s inner agenda, so that you won’t be brainwashed.
A commentator tells you “a certain industry is finished” — he doesn’t necessarily believe it, but that headline brings traffic. Traffic is his income. His agenda is attention.
A trader tells you to “sell now” or “buy now” — he isn’t necessarily helping you. He may need exactly your panic or your frenzy to serve his position. His agenda is volatility.
An investor tells you “I’m bullish on this space” — he may genuinely be bullish, but he may also need more people to believe this narrative in order to lift the valuation of the assets he’s already invested in. His agenda is appreciation.
Not everyone is lying to you. But everyone has their own structure of interests. Only when you see through that structure can you discern the real signal behind the words.
In Pain Points Aren’t the Whole of Transformation, I discussed how the most dangerous thing in digital transformation isn’t that the technology can’t keep up, but being led along by all sorts of “authoritative voices” while forgetting to ask yourself what you actually need. The same goes for judging roles within an industry — don’t assume that because someone speaks confidently and authoritatively, they care about your interests.
The Loneliness of the Builder
So why do I recommend choosing to be a builder?
Because the builder is the only role whose interests are bound to “creating real value.” The trader can profit from value destruction. The commentator can profit from exaggeration. The follower doesn’t profit. Only the builder — his returns come from having actually built something.
But the builder is lonely.
While you’re building something, the commentator stands off to the side pointing fingers. The trader speculates on top of your results. The follower decides whether to believe in you based on what the commentator says. The investor watches and waits.
And you can only keep building. Because you know that, until it’s finished, no one will truly understand what you’re doing.
My own experience running a company has deeply confirmed this. The most painful thing in the early days of a startup isn’t insufficient funding or immature technology — it’s that no one understands what you’re doing. What you’re talking about is too new, and the market isn’t ready to hear it yet. Commentators think you’re too small to be worth reporting on; traders think you’re too early-stage to offer material for speculation.
But you just have to keep building. Get your hands dirty. Build it brick by brick. If you got the direction wrong, adjust; if you messed up, start over.
This is the price of being a builder, and it’s also the builder’s privilege — what you build is yours. Not given to you by the market, not defined by the commentators, not hyped up by the traders.
The Trap of Consumerism
Speaking of role choices, there’s a larger framework we must address.
The consumerism of the last century taught us a formula: what you own = who you are. The car you drive, the house you live in, the brands you wear determine your place in society.
The problem with this formula is that it turns everyone into a consumer — that is, a follower. You’re not creating value; you’re consuming value created by others, then defining your identity by the quantity of your consumption.
In AI Never Powers Down: The Economic Order Being Reorganized, I discussed how the economic order of the AI era is being reorganized. In the midst of this reorganization, the least secure position is that of the “consumer” — because your value is entirely dependent on someone else’s system.
The truly secure position is that of the builder. You don’t necessarily have to start a company — in any organization, those who are genuinely “building things” have far stronger irreplaceability than those watching from the sidelines.
Another Philosophy of Life
How you create now is how you’ll live in the future.
We can keep using last century’s logic, converting all our achievements into dollar signs and filling the anxiety of existence with endless consumption.
Or we can choose another philosophy. Pursuing a simple, restrained, yet richly textured life. Spending our energy on “building” rather than “buying.” Character and taste have never needed to be stacked up out of cash.
Don’t let the humans of the 22nd century despise us. Assuming, that is, that human civilization even makes it to the 22nd century.
And whether that premise holds depends on how many people are willing to go from follower to builder — from consuming the world to creating the world.
Which one do you want to be?
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