I used to think of myself as a tech optimist.

I’m not sure that fits anymore.

That’s been sitting with me for a while. I haven’t figured out what replaces it. I’m not a cynic. I’m not anti tech. That’s not how I’m wired. I still get excited about what’s possible. I still love new tools, new ideas, and the feeling of skipping a few steps ahead.

But something has shifted.

And I think a lot of people who have been close to technology for a while are feeling it too.

I came into tech through a love of storytelling.

In 1996, I took a multimedia program and started learning video, sound, CD-ROMs, and then the early web. It felt like magic. Not in a hype sense. In a this might actually change things sense.

At the time, I was reading books like The Cluetrain Manifesto, and I believed deeply in the promise of the web. More people could create. More people could share their perspective. The gatekeepers might actually fall away.

That belief shaped my entire career.

It opened doors. It pushed me toward new things. It made me comfortable being early.

When I got into social media, it felt like that idea on steroids.

This wasn’t just publishing anymore. This was participation.

In 2012, one of the reasons I was excited to join Hootsuite was what had just happened during the Arab Spring. Social media was helping people organize, share what was happening, and get information out when traditional systems were being restricted or shut down. When the Egyptian government shutdown access to Twitter, the protestors starting using Hootsuite as a work around.

It felt like we were seeing the promise play out in real time.

Technology giving people a voice.

But over time, something else started to happen.

What spread wasn’t necessarily what was true.
Or helpful.
Or even meaningful.

What spread was often what triggered the strongest reaction.

And slowly, so slowly you almost don’t notice it, the system shifted.

More engagement.
More emotion.
More time spent.

In those early years, I don’t think most of us saw where that was heading.

I know I didn’t.

A couple of years ago, I was at a creator event in Beverly Hills.

It was all agents, brand deals, polished presentations, big money, and big production. The whole thing felt very far from the early internet culture that first pulled me in.

At one point, Charli D’Amelio’s parents came through to talk about their family’s reality show.

And I had this strange moment of contrast.

I thought back to the early Twitter days. Blogs. Citizen journalism. That slightly chaotic, punk energy of people just figuring things out and putting things into the world.

And now we were here.

Same broad promise. Completely different incentives.

On a more personal level, I’ve felt it too.

One of the hardest habits I’ve tried to change over the past year hasn’t been work related at all.

It’s TikTok.

It is just so good at what it does.

I’ll open it for a minute and lose twenty…or sixty minutes.

It’s not a discipline issue. It’s design. (Maybe it’s also a discipline issue, I am working on it.)

That realization changes how you see everything.

Now I’m watching AI unfold.

And part of me feels the same excitement I’ve always felt.

The first time you build something with it, really build something, you feel it. That rush. The sense that the barrier between idea and reality has just collapsed.

It’s incredible.

But I’ve also seen this pattern before.

The rush.
The capital.
The race.

And the assumption that because something is powerful, it must be progress.

I didn’t stop believing in technology. I stopped believing better technology automatically leads to better lives.

When I look at where most of the energy is going right now, it feels narrow.

More productivity.
More automation.
More efficiency.
Fewer people doing the same work.

There is a place for that. Of course there is.

But I can’t shake the feeling that we are not being ambitious enough.

We are asking:

How do we make things faster?
How do we make companies more efficient?
How do we reduce the number of people needed to do the work?

We are not asking nearly enough:

How do we make life better?

We are pouring billions into making machines more capable, while treating human flourishing like an afterthought.

If AI is as powerful as we think it is, and I believe it is, then this is not a small question.

This is the question.

Because we are not just building tools.

We are shaping how people live.

There is a version of this future that feels genuinely inspiring.

A world where AI takes on more of the work that drains us, so we have more energy for the work that calls us.

Where people can move at a pace that allows for creativity, strategy, judgment, and care.

Where small teams of 20 people can build meaningful companies in spaces they care deeply about, and share in the value they create.

Where efficiency does not just mean fewer jobs and bigger margins, but more space, more ownership, and better lives.

Where technology protects attention instead of fragmenting it.

Where it gives people back time instead of filling every open space with more demands.

Where it helps us reconnect with people, nature, and place.

That is the version of the future I’m interested in.

Not AI for more output.

AI for better lives.

But that future is not guaranteed.

Left unchecked, systems optimize for what they are incentivized to maximize:

Engagement.
Output.
Efficiency.
Growth.

Not:

Attention.
Presence.
Relationships.
Place.
Meaning.

That’s the gap.

And that’s where I find myself now.

Still optimistic.

But not in the same way.

More aware of how things can drift.
More cautious about what we assume.
More interested in what we choose to build toward.

I don’t think we need to reject technology.

But I do think we need to be far more intentional about it.

At a personal level.
At a cultural level.
And inside the companies that are building these systems.

I still believe in the potential of this moment.

Just not in the way I used to.

I don’t think better technology automatically leads to better lives. I think it depends on what we choose to optimize for.

If we get that right, the upside is enormous.

We could build systems that protect attention instead of fragmenting it.
That give people back time instead of compressing it.
That strengthen relationships instead of replacing them.
That reconnect us to the physical world instead of pulling us further away from it.

That’s the version of the future I want to help build.

And it’s a big part of what I’m exploring with The Calm Society.

I know there are teams building toward this kind of future. I just don’t think we’re talking about them enough.

If you’ve come across people, companies or organizations that are aligned with this point of view, send them my way.

Just reply to this email, I read all the replies.

I’ll share the most interesting ones in a future newsletter.

Cameron

Human Optimist

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