The unofficial mantra of silicon valley entrepreneurs may well be fake it ‘til you make it, an approach of resilient bravado that’s led to a slew of ultimately successful tech giants – and also to frank deceptions like Theranos.
Recently, I heard from VC Marc Andreessen (on the a16z podcast, here) what must be the most forthright explanation of this approach, a sales technique Andreessen calls “evangelistic selling.”
Andreessen was responding to a question about how do you sell into businesses that aren’t intrinsically receptive to change (i.e. essentially every large established business, including those dominating healthcare).
The Evangelistic Sale
First, you can see why some view Silicon Valley denizens as merchants of hype – this is, if not explicitly what Andreessen is championing, perhaps an inevitable outcome of his approach: entrepreneurs and (other) salespeople talking up an often-fantastic vision of a yet-to-be realized future.
Andreessen also points to the example of Elon Musk and Tesla; Musk is often criticized for overselling, says Andreessen, but argues Musk had to paint a vision not only of a car you could plug in, but also a whole system of superchargers along freeways, and his vision had to be compelling enough so he could actually sell enough cars “into that vision” to afford to start installing the chargers he described, and enable the vision to become a reality (which, initially, it wasn’t). Andreessen likens it to selling the first fax, which obviously wasn’t especially useful until and unless it was adopted by others.
Steve Jobs: “Taking LSD was a profound experience, one of the most important things in my life. LSD shows you that there’s another side to the coin, and you can’t remember it when it wears off, but you know it. It reinforced my sense of what was important – creating things instead of making money, putting things back into the stream of history and of human consciousness as much as I could.” (ref 1)
Woodstock (Chip Monck): “To get back to the warning that I received. You may take it with however many grains of salt that you wish. That the brown acid that is circulating around us isn’t too good. It is suggested that you stay away from that. Of course it’s your own trip. So be my guest, but please be advised that there is a warning on that one, OK?” (ref 2)
Warning: The final few paragraphs of this post contain language that some may find offensive. I included it for a reason. In 30 years of practice and in my real life – I have found that many people talk this way. If profanity offends you don’t read the end of this post.
Everywhere I turn these days – whether it is a blog or more traditional media I am struck by the same stories on hallucinogens. If you believe what you read out there, hallucinogens are magical drugs in that they are almost totally benign, consciousness expanding, and they can treat your anxiety or or depression. They have been actively discriminated against like other illegal drugs and that is the only reason we have not done the research to prove that they can treat many problems. Back in the 1970’s we would have said that “The Man” is restricting access to valuable consciousness expanding drugs and if “The Man” was overthrown – the world would be a much better place. I have briefly reviewed the same lines of rhetoric that occur with cannabis. I have not heard similar arguments with ketamine, probably because fewer people have experience with it and it is a more difficult drug to use, even in a medical setting where the drug has a known concentration and purity.
Backache is an intermittent predicament of life. No one is spared for long. Furthermore, no approach to avoiding the next episode has proven effective when submitted to scientific testing. To be well is not to avoid backache; it’s to have the wherewithal to cope effectively and repeatedly.
Almost all of the people we will be talking about in this book were afflicted with regionalbackache, and that is the only type of backache we will consider here. I coined that term for an editorial in The New England Journal of Medicine over twenty years ago.1 Regional backache is the back pain experienced by people who are otherwise well. It comes on inexplicably, usually suddenly, in the course of activities that are familiar, and customarily comfortable. This is the common, everyday backache. We will spend some time considering some of the more frequent complications of a regional backache, particularly the “pinched nerve,” which can cause pain to radiate down the leg. We are not going to consider the unusual causes of backache such as metastatic cancer, infections, or inflammatory diseases of the spine. Nor will we consider the back pain that can result from accidents and other traumatic events.
While I am talking about what this book is not, let me say that it is not a self-help manual. Nor is it a medical textbook. Backbone is an exposé of a contrived “disease” and the enormous enterprises it has spawned that conspire to its “cure” and provide fall back when a “cure” is elusive. That industry has developed a life of its own despite a robust and compelling body of scientific investigation that points toward backache as a socially constructed ailment. The American notion of health, the American’s wherewithal to cope and persevere, and the American pocketbook are paying a heavy price.