You’re Not in the Culture, You are the Culture
INTRODUCTION
“Bill Gates said: wait till you see what your computer can become. But it's You, who should be doing the becoming, not the damn fool computer. What you can become is the miracle you were born to be through the work that you do.” – Kurt Vonnegut
Consumption is easier and more passive than ever. In the past, choosing a book or a TV show required at least a moment of intention. Now, algorithms serve up personalized, infinite feeds to keep us scrolling, streaming, and clicking with minimal effort on our part.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with consumption - we all need rest, information, and inspiration. But when consumption becomes our default state, we risk spending large parts of our lives passively absorbing rather than actively growing. The danger is that we look back and realize we’ve consumed far more than we’ve created - we realize we haven’t truly grown or left our mark on the world and those around us.
This consumption / creation imbalance has consequences at two levels. At the individual level, research shows that a sense of progress, however small, is one of the strongest drivers of human satisfaction. Creation can provide that progress. As we expand to the cultural level, the same dynamic holds true: communities thrive when enough people are willing to make, share, and build, not just consume and watch from the sidelines.
Technology will continue to make consumption easier, which means the responsibility falls on us to rebalance our time. We need to be more intentional about how much we consume, how much we create, and how the two interact to shape both our own lives and the cultures we’re part of.
David Foster Wallace saw this challenge years ago. He warned that it would continue getting “better and better and more and more pleasurable, to be alone with images on a screen… given to us by people who do not love us but want our money.” A little of that is fine. But if it becomes our default, his (quite dramatic) take was that, “in a meaningful way, you’re going to die. And the culture’s gonna grind to a halt.”
That’s the heart of this essay: building a way to notice when we’re tipping too far toward consumption, and deliberately shifting back toward creation. At the personal level, that means intentionally checking in on how we spend our time and energy. At the cultural level, it means recognizing our role not just as consumers of culture, but as participants and shapers of it.
Let’s start with the personal side of the equation.
the Consumption / Creation Framework
When you boil it down, most of our time falls into one of two states: consumption or creation.
Consumption: reading, watching, listening, scrolling. It’s input-oriented, and often passive
Creation: cooking a meal, journaling, painting, writing, hosting a dinner. It’s output-oriented, and almost always active
Neither state is inherently good or bad. The danger is in imbalance. Most of us spend the majority of our waking hours at work, and for many of us, this may be the only environment where we’re consistently producing tangible outputs. By the time we’ve exercised, made dinner, taken care of our children (4 legged or 2 legged), and handled the daily chores, it’s tempting to collapse into the couch and spend the rest of our time consuming. That’s understandable - but if consumption becomes the default, and we’re only creating in a work context, we lose the deeper sense of progress that creation can bring.
Research shows that progress is one of the biggest drivers of human well-being. The trick is that “progress” doesn’t just mean promotions or pay raises - it can be even more powerful in personal contexts. It can be as small as writing a page, sketching an idea, or teaching yourself a song on guitar. But you only get that sense of growth when you’re creating, not just consuming.
It’s important to stress: creation doesn’t always have to be tangible. Sometimes what you’re creating is a bond - a closer relationship with a friend, a deeper connection with your kids, or a sense of belonging in your neighborhood. These are valid, powerful forms of creation too, and they matter just as much as any outputs you may be able to hold or point at.
Personally, I’ve found it useful to set at least one creation-centric goal outside of work. Even a modest one (for example - starting a blog). Having something you’re building or working toward gives you:
A reason to claw back time and set better boundaries around work
A place to feel progress and momentum that isn’t tied to your job
A filter for what kinds of consumption are worthwhile (does this inform, inspire, or recharge me in service of my goal?)
There’s a broader discussion to be had here around the importance and benefits of goal setting in general, but the main thing for now is this: setting a creation-centric goal is the first step toward shifting your default state away from passive consumption, and toward active creation.
Auditing Our Consumption
Even if you set a creation-centric goal, the obvious question is: where’s the time going to come from? We’re all busy, and most days feel like there’s barely enough time as-is.
The place to start is by taking a closer look at how you’re consuming today. Not all consumption is the same. In my experience, most of it falls into three buckets: relaxation, information, and inspiration.
Relaxation: Sometimes you’re just tired and need to turn your brain off. That’s fine - it’s personal, and it’s necessary. The goal isn’t to eliminate downtime, just to make sure it’s intentional rather than default.
Information: We all consume information that helps us navigate daily life - from the weather forecast to local news to industry updates. This is useful as long as it actually informs your actions. Beyond that, it starts to become extra noise instead of useful signal.
Inspiration: This often overlaps with relaxation, but the key difference is intent. Inspiration consumption points forward - the cooking show you watch because you want to try a new recipe, the stand-up special that nudges you to try an open mic, the book that pushes you to start writing. This consumption can be enjoyable, but the ultimate intent is that at some point it will help inform or influence your own actions and outputs.
That last sentence is crucial. If we put relaxation aside, consumption is only good to the extent it actually informs or influences our outputs and actions. Otherwise, it’s just the empty calories of attention - satisfying in the moment, but ultimately leaves us feeling a bit worse off.
And this is where we often trip up. If you’re opening an app without knowing why, you’re probably not about to be informed or inspired - you’re likely just going to piss yourself off for no reason, and ultimately you’re about to waste time you could have spent more beneficially. The goal isn’t to outlaw consumption, it’s to cut back on the mindless kind so you can repurpose that time and energy toward something more likely to make you feel good about yourself.
In my own life, this meant admitting Duolingo was more entertainment than real learning, tightening my news habits into a simple (email-only, social media-free) morning routine, and letting my interest in stand-up comedy guide what I consume for inspiration. The details and specifics of my personal routine don’t really matter as much - the point is that once you know what you want to create, it becomes much easier to filter what’s worth consuming, and what isn’t.
Broader Cultural Implications
So far we’ve been looking at this balance between consumption and creation at the personal level. But the same imbalance shows up in our shared culture too. Many people want to consume or reap the benefits of a “cool culture,” but far fewer are willing to put in the effort to help build it.
City-level culture is a great example. Outside of a handful of U.S. cities - New York, LA, Miami, maybe a few others - odds are you can find someone complaining that “this place doesn’t have any culture.”
I’m reminded of a common sentiment I come across - this one about Charlotte specifically, but I’m sure there are versions of it in most other cities: “Everything here is great except there’s a lack of culture. It’s kind of just a transient place for young, white collar professionals to live for a little and make some money.”
To be fair, the sentiment is pretty on point. But the irony is often glaring: many of the people saying this are the exact white-collar transplants who moved here for jobs that are allegedly sanitizing the city. And this is the crux of it - when you complain about your city’s culture, to an extent you’re critiquing yourself. There’s a saying I heard not too long ago: “you’re not in traffic, you are traffic.” The same exact thing applies here: you’re not in the culture, you are the culture. You don’t just live in the city - you are part of what makes it what it is.
So if you think your city lacks culture (and maybe it does), that’s not just a critique - it’s an opportunity. When you say a city has no culture, what do you actually mean? No good restaurants? No music venues? No historic buildings or landmarks? You may not be able to open a restaurant or redevelop a historic building, but you could start a dinner club in your neighborhood, ask a local coffee shop to host an open mic, or rally support for preserving the historic spaces your city already has. We expect culture to be served on a platter, like the algorithm serves us on our phones. But by definition, culture is everywhere - you just have to put in a little effort to find the one that piques your interest.
It’s not just about restaurants or music scenes, either. A lot of the broader complaints about people feeling less empathetic, less engaged, and less connected to their neighbors are likely tied to the creation / consumption imbalance we experience at the personal level. The more time we spend passively consuming (i.e., doomscrolling on our phones), the less time and energy we have to actively connect in each other’s real (non-digital) lives.
It’s worth saying directly: culture isn’t only built in restaurants, venues, and landmarks - it’s also built in living rooms, classrooms, and parks. Social bonds are culture. Teaching kids, hosting neighbors, showing up for friends - these acts of connection are acts of creation too. They build the trust and texture that make a community worth living in.
The takeaway is simple in theory, but tougher to act on: unique, vibrant cultures require active participation from a diverse set of people contributing their own energy and ideas. If you’re not willing to actively seek out different cultural experiences, much less engage and contribute, I propose you lose the right to complain that your city (or your scene, or your team) “has no culture.”
CONCLUSION
The balance between consumption and creation isn’t just a matter of personal productivity - it’s a matter of how we experience life, and how we shape the places we live. Individually, creation fuels progress and satisfaction. Collectively, it fuels the culture that makes cities and communities worth belonging to.
The trap is that consumption feels effortless, while creation takes energy. That’s why it’s so easy to default into scrolling instead of practicing something new, spectating instead of participating. But the same thing that makes creation harder is what makes it meaningful: it demands effort, and leaves something behind.
David Foster Wallace warned that if passive entertainment becomes our staple diet, both individuals and culture will “grind to a halt.” The inverse is just as true: if more of us choose to create - even in small, humble ways - we expand our own sense of progress and keep our communities vibrant.
So the onus is on us: what’s one small thing we could create this week? Not someday, not in theory - but right now. A page, a meal, a gathering… anything really. However small, it counts. Because you’re not just in the culture - you are the culture.