AI's Frictionless Road to Hell
When you start looking for friction, you'll find it everywhere.
Searching a shop for the right size of shirt? Friction. Having to wait to get seated in a restaurant? Friction. Finding a flight, going to the right place, leaving at the right time, at a time you can make work, at a price you can afford? Friction.
Money makes friction go away. For billionaires, friction gets pre-solved for you.
A stylist knows your measurements and clothes just appear in your size. Restaurants make space for you. Private jets are ready and waiting.
Billionaires employ entire teams of people to avoid and solve friction. Fully staffed homes, on-site private chefs, drivers waiting on standby at all hours of the day, personal assistants, and chiefs of staff to manage them all.
And it's making them miserable.
You're not immediately convinced? Rude.
Fine, let me demonstrate.
The Grand Theft Auto series of games are legendary. A large world with lots of interesting things to do that inevitably result with you tearing down a freeway in a stolen car with 20 police cars chasing you, shootouts with your own personal arsenal of rocket launchers and machine guns, escalating situations of chaos that result in either your escape or your death. Puerile fun.
When I was young, I was playing a GTA mission. For whatever reason, this mission was annoying to do right.
That entry in the series (Vice City) came with cheats—as once was common. So, I loaded myself up with every advantage and sailed through the mission, blowing up anyone that got in my way and cackling as I did. It was good fun.
Enough fun that for my next mission, I kept rolling with the cheats. Everyone who crossed my path—blown to smithereens with a rocket launcher. And then the next mission. And the next.
But the day after, I went back to play the game... and I wasn't having fun. I was blowing everything up in my path, just like before. But the novelty had worn off. Now it was just easy. I continued through the game for a few missions, then switched to a different game.1
You've figured out the problem—but let me say it anyway.
The friction is what made the game worth playing.
A good video game is a set of well designed frictions that, when overcome, makes you feel good.
Cheats ruined the game for me by removing all friction.2
This is how billionaires experience their personal lives. Cheat codes on. Friction set to minimum.
But you need that friction to enjoy life. The difference between climbing a mountain and arriving the apex by helicopter is the climb. The friction. Climbing a mountain is more fun than being at the top of a mountain. Friction changes your experience of the mountain itself.3
My wife and I have something we call "Croatia rules". It stems from a holiday and a series of unfortunate events.4
We had ended up staying in a small apartment in a little fishing bay near Dubrovnik. Much to our chagrin, the easily accessible restaurants were awful.
But the roads were built into a cliffside—so walking anywhere was difficult and dangerous and we couldn't afford a car. But soon, we wanted—no needed—a better meal. The food was that miserable. So, all but penniless, we made a dangerous trek along the road, rock-face on one side and sheer drop on the other, to a restaurant further away. It was terrifying.
And the food was so fucking good. Fresh fish, local vegetables, simple ingredients cooked well. Over the course of the holiday, we walked further, treading dark roads by moonlight, each more dangerous than the last—and the food would get better each time. 5
Now, whenever we are having a hard time with something—we just say "Guess it's Croatia rules".
Contrast this with the life of a billionaire. They don't have Croatia rules. They get helicoptered to the best restaurants. Personal assistants drive six hours to get their favourite snack. Nothing is out of reach. If they want something, they just say they want it. There is no friction.
That's their experience of world. What they want, they get. Delivered, white glove, silver platter. The only real friction is at work, where their desires butt up against the real world. 6
That leads us to AI.
AI is designed to be frictionless. Immediate, docile, obsequious help.
Great point! Incredible idea! Well caught! You're so smart and handsome!
An always-available one-size-fits-all solution to whatever problems fit in a text box.
At first, it's good. Major annoyances disappear. Things you don't have time to do? AI does it for you.
ChatGPT. Research this obscure topic in depth. Record this meeting, make notes, email everyone a summary.
Slowly, you begin to see friction everywhere.
Claude. Answer these emails, build this app idea.
Every problem becomes nail-shaped, ready to be bludgeoned by an AI-shaped-hammer. You get more productive. Things take less time. Finally, time to do more!
AI, chose a present for my wife, make a podcast about my children's hobbies.
People become dependent, even if they don't mean to. They were just researching AI. How did it end up like this?
They value their output less. Whatever joy they get from accomplishing things is diluted by the ease of that accomplishment. Higher output, but somehow less happy.
Surely, that's wrong. Surely if they can do all the things they want to do, they should be happier. All that accomplishment should add up. They should be happy.
But they aren't. These people join the billionaires. Leading low friction lives, AI making things easy—and joyless.
They slide down a frictionless road into hell.
I did eventually come back and finish the game, but I had to start over.↩
Not all cheats ruin all games, cheats can be great fun. But God-mode is an inherent fun-killer.↩
I am not saying all friction is inherently valuable. Nuanced argument here, folks.↩
This was 15+ years ago, we had no money. We've all been there.↩
Was the food actually better? Genuinely yes—but probably not proportionate to how much more we enjoyed the food. Something about the struggle (and perhaps the relief of still being alive) made our experience of the food better. This actually ended up getting a little extreme, but it culminated in a fantastic dinner in a restaurant under a waterfall to cap our holiday and some good stories.↩
I think this may be part of why so many of them are thoroughly obsessed with work. Also they are all fundamentally broken as people in other ways.↩