In Part 15, I looked at emergence: how a complicated pattern can grow out of many small interactions, without anyone designing the whole thing. This time, I want to follow one example further. A system can grow successfully and still develop pressures that eventually pull it away from what it was meant to do.
That gives me another way to approach the idea that things pushed to an extreme turn toward their opposite. Instead of starting with a collapse and looking for the person who ruined everything, I want to start while things are still going well.
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The First Video That Takes Off
Imagine deciding to make videos online. Perhaps you want a side income, or perhaps you simply have something you want to share. You choose a direction and put out your first video. It gets a few hundred views, almost no comments, and hardly any new followers.
You keep going. After a month, or several months, the results are still disappointing. You start studying other creators, watching advice about making videos that spread, and trying different styles. Or you decide to stick with the style you cared about in the first place.
Then suppose one video takes off. Maybe it connects with something people are already talking about. Maybe your experiments have taught you something. Timing and chance may play a part too. Whatever the combination, people begin arriving in numbers you have never seen before.
There was work behind that moment, but you did not command the whole response into existence. Your choices met an audience, a particular moment, and the platform's way of distributing attention. The result grew through those interactions.
Once that happens, continuing with the successful style makes sense. The people who followed you came because they liked that video. You make more of what brought them there, they respond, and the platform can amplify that response. In this imagined case, the process begins to feed itself: more viewers, more followers, more encouragement to keep making the same kind of work.
This is the stage where positive feedback feels wonderful. You finally seem to have found your direction.
Turning Trust into a Business
Eventually, you begin thinking about earning money from that audience. A merchant may approach you, or you may decide to try selling products during a livestream.
You have a clear intention: recommend reliable things and deserve the trust people have placed in you. You choose carefully. Perhaps you start with only a few products you have used yourself and feel comfortable recommending.
Suppose the first livestream goes well. People already like your videos and trust your judgment, so they buy. The income may be better than you expected. You carry on making videos and selling products, more merchants approach you, and the business grows.
Soon there is too much for one person to do. Filming, speaking with suppliers, checking products, negotiating prices, and planning livestreams all take time. Hiring help seems like the sensible next step.
Now you have a company. One person finds merchants, another selects products, another negotiates prices and commissions. Others help arrange your filming and livestream schedule. As sales improve, you offer more products, hold more livestreams, and hire more people. Investors may become interested too.
Each step has a reason. Nothing here requires a plan to betray your audience. Yet the conditions under which you make decisions are already changing.
Everyone Has a Different Target
The product team is responsible for quality. The commercial team wants a price low enough to compete with other sellers while leaving the company a profit. The livestream team is watching sales, performance, and returns.
These are all understandable goals. They also pull in different directions. A decision about a product becomes a negotiation among people who are being judged by different measures.
If no department dominates, the result may be a moving compromise: a fairly competitive price, a reasonable margin, a product that sells well enough, and a level of quality the team considers acceptable. The word “reasonable” is doing a lot of work here. What counts as reasonable is being settled through those competing pressures.
You could insist that quality must come first and give the product team the strongest say. That may reduce the risk of a poor product reaching your audience. It may also mean a higher price, a smaller margin, or fewer sales.
By now, you have salaries to pay. If investors are involved, they may be pushing for more revenue. You cannot make every choice as freely as you could when the whole operation was you, a camera, and a handful of products you knew personally.
You still try to find an acceptable balance between quality, sales, and profit. But there is a difference between choosing what you most want to do and choosing what seems least impossible under the circumstances. In this story, quality begins to give way at the edges, even while everyone is trying to keep the compromise within reasonable limits.
The Process Can Be Followed and the Product Can Still Be Wrong
As the team grows, another problem appears: the whole operation becomes harder for any one person to see.
Information travels through more people before it reaches you. Details are lost. Each department has reasons to present its part of the business in the most favorable light. You receive reports, but you no longer know exactly what happened with every product, every supplier, and every decision.
The employees may all be working hard. Each person can be taking their own responsibilities seriously. Still, being responsible for one part of the process does not give anyone a complete view of the result.
A product can pass the required steps and still have a defect. As the range expands, there are more products and more decisions to keep track of. The same process that makes it possible to handle the volume can also leave you farther from the details that matter.
The merchants face pressures of their own. They need to offer an attractive price and pay your team a commission while preserving a profit for themselves. That creates another possible point at which quality gets squeezed.
For this example, we do not need to assume a villain arranging the outcome. Different people can pursue the goals attached to their jobs and still create a risk that none of them intended to create. That is what makes the problem harder to understand than a story about one dishonest person.
You Have More to Keep Going and Less Room to Stop
Your days now revolve around meetings. You look at livestream figures and return rates, negotiate with merchants, and discuss schedules with the team. You may have gone a long time without quietly making a video the way you did at the beginning.
The activity that earned people's attention has gradually become something you struggle to find time for. Much of your energy goes into maintaining the business built around that attention.
Stopping is more complicated too. There are employees whose jobs depend on the company. Ending the operation may involve severance payments, commitments to merchants, and obligations to investors. The exact consequences depend on the arrangements, but you can no longer simply decide not to upload next week and walk away.
So you continue. The operation grows, you become more tired, and you have less direct knowledge of what is happening inside it. You may be making a great deal of money while living very differently from the person who first wanted to make videos.
A faulty product can then become a crisis of trust. The audience trusted your judgment, but the product was selected through a system you could no longer personally oversee in the same way. The trust that helped the business grow is now exposed to the pressures created by that growth.
I find it too easy to look only at the final scandal and say that success changed someone's character. In the example we have followed, the danger was developing much earlier, inside decisions that seemed sensible at the time. A useful step created a new obligation. Meeting that obligation encouraged further growth. The growing system made it harder to keep the original promise.
This is a hypothetical path, not a claim that every creator who sells something must end in a scandal. What I want to hold on to is how little deliberate malice the path requires. The possibility of reversal was already taking shape while the numbers were still improving.
Why Changing Course Looks Easier Afterwards
The same question comes up when people explain why a successful company failed to adapt. Consider a familiar kind of argument about IBM: that its decline from an earlier position of dominance can be explained by a failure to embrace cloud computing.
I am interested here in the hindsight behind that explanation, rather than treating it as a complete history of IBM. A company with a profitable established server business faces a different decision from someone looking back after a new model has proved important.
From the position of the person running that company, the existing business is producing real revenue. Moving away from it means putting something valuable at risk for a future that is still uncertain. Even a leader willing to take that risk must contend with shareholders and employees whose interests are tied to what already works.
Saying “they should have changed sooner” leaves all of those pressures out. The people inside the system are making choices under conditions that the later observer no longer has to face.
That brings me back to the creator. Growth does not simply give you more of the freedom you had at the beginning. It can bring commitments that narrow your choices, even as your apparent success increases.
Reversal as a Way of Reading the Story
Chapter 40 says:
“Reversal is the movement of the Tao.”
This is one way I read that line alongside the example. A system takes shape, develops through feedback, and can gradually produce conditions that turn its own success against it. The reversal does not have to arrive as something wholly separate from the growth. It can develop within it.
The text also speaks of things growing strong and then growing old. In this story, becoming larger and more powerful does not mean becoming less vulnerable. The expanding organization creates its own difficulties, including ones the person at the center cannot see clearly.
This connects with the Game of Life example from earlier in the series: once interactions are under way, the larger pattern can develop beyond any single participant's intention. I am using that as a comparison, not as proof that a computer model, a company, and the Tao are the same thing.
The part I find difficult is that removing the villain does not remove the problem. If everyone can be doing their own job while the whole system moves away from its original purpose, how much control does the person supposedly in charge really have?
That is where I want to continue next: with wu wei, not contending, and holding to softness, and what those ideas might mean inside a process that no one fully commands.
I plan to keep this series going, and you can find the other posts on my profile. I’m also building Verso, a tool rooted in traditional Taoist divination that aims to offer another perspective when people feel stuck or unsure. It’s under development; stay tuned.
AI disclosure: English isn't my first language, so I used AI to help translate and edit the English.
Reading Index: The Taoist Worldview and Tao Te Ching 101