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By:

Divyaa Advaani 

2 November 2024 at 3:28:38 am

When agreement kills growth

In the early stages of building a business, growth is often driven by clarity, speed, and conviction. Founders make decisions quickly, rely on their instincts, and push forward with a strong sense of belief in their methods. This decisiveness is not only necessary, it is often the very reason the business begins to grow. However, as businesses cross certain thresholds, particularly beyond the Rs 5 crore mark, the nature of growth begins to change. What once created momentum can quietly begin...

When agreement kills growth

In the early stages of building a business, growth is often driven by clarity, speed, and conviction. Founders make decisions quickly, rely on their instincts, and push forward with a strong sense of belief in their methods. This decisiveness is not only necessary, it is often the very reason the business begins to grow. However, as businesses cross certain thresholds, particularly beyond the Rs 5 crore mark, the nature of growth begins to change. What once created momentum can quietly begin to create limitations. In many professional environments, it is not uncommon to encounter business owners who are deeply convinced of their approach. Their methods have delivered results, their experience reinforces their judgment, and their confidence becomes a defining trait. Yet, in this very confidence lies a subtle risk that is often overlooked. When conviction turns into certainty without space for dialogue, conversations begin to narrow. Suggestions are heard, but not always considered. Perspectives are offered, but not always encouraged. Decisions are made, but not always explained. From the outside, this may still appear as strong leadership. Internally, however, a different dynamic begins to take shape. People start to agree more than they contribute. This is where many businesses unknowingly enter a critical phase. When teams, partners, or stakeholders begin to hold back their perspective, the quality of thinking around the business reduces. What appears as alignment is often silent disengagement. What looks like efficiency is sometimes the absence of challenge. Over time, this directly affects the decisions being made. At a Rs 5 crore level, this may not be immediately visible. Operations continue, revenue flows, and the business appears stable. But as the organisation attempts to grow further, this lack of diverse thinking begins to surface as a constraint. Growth slows, not because of lack of effort, but because of limited perspective. On the other side of this equation are individuals who consistently find themselves accommodating such dynamics. They recognise when their voice is not being fully heard, yet choose not to assert it. The intention is often to preserve relationships, avoid friction, or maintain a sense of professional ease. Initially, this approach appears collaborative. Over time, however, it begins to shape perception. When individuals do not express their perspective, they are gradually seen as agreeable rather than essential. Their presence is valued, but their input is not actively sought. In many cases, they become part of the process, but not part of the decision. This is where personal branding begins to influence business outcomes in ways that are not immediately obvious. A personal brand is not built only through visibility or achievement. It is built through how consistently one demonstrates clarity, confidence, and openness in moments that require it. It is shaped by whether people feel encouraged to think around you, or restricted in your presence. At higher levels of business, this distinction becomes critical. If people agree with you more than they challenge you, it may not be a sign of strong leadership. It may be an indication that your environment is no longer enabling better thinking. Similarly, if you find yourself constantly adjusting to others without expressing your own perspective, your contribution may be diminishing in ways that affect both your influence and your growth. Both situations carry a cost. They affect decision quality, limit innovation, and over time, restrict the scalability of the business itself. What makes this particularly challenging is that these patterns develop gradually, often going unnoticed until the impact becomes difficult to ignore. The most effective leaders recognise this early. They create space for dialogue without losing direction. They express conviction without dismissing perspective. They build environments where contribution is expected, not avoided. In doing so, they strengthen not only their business, but also their personal brand. For entrepreneurs operating at a stage where growth is no longer just about execution but about expanding thinking, this becomes an important point of reflection. If there is even a possibility that your current interactions are limiting the quality of thinking around you, it is worth addressing before it begins to affect outcomes. I work with a select group of founders and professionals to help them refine how they are perceived, communicate with greater impact, and build personal brands that support sustained growth. You may explore this further here: https://sprect.com/pro/divyaaadvaani In the long run, it is not only the decisions you make, but the thinking you allow around those decisions, that determines how far your business can truly grow. (The author is a personal branding expert. She has clients from 14+ countries. Views personal.)

Ultramodern Times: Laughing at the Machine in the Age of AI

When my generation first watched Modern Times, we laughed easily. The scenes were funny, and the central character unforgettable. That character was the Tramp, a small man in an oversized coat, tight trousers, worn shoes, a bowler hat, and a thin walking stick. For many readers today, the Tramp may need a brief introduction. Charlie Chaplin created him to represent an ordinary person, poor, vulnerable, often confused, but never without dignity or hope. Yet beneath the laughter, we sensed a warning. You need not know the film; its images make the message easy to grasp.


In Modern Times, the Tramp becomes humanity itself, caught inside the machinery of industrial progress. He works on an assembly line, tightening bolts again and again as the speed keeps rising. His body starts moving like a machine. His hands keep turning imaginary nuts even after he steps away. He is pulled into giant gears, pushed along conveyor belts, and made to eat through a feeding device designed to remove lunch breaks. These scenes are genuinely funny, yet their meaning is serious. When efficiency becomes the only goal, people are treated like tools, not humans.


Human Cogs

The film was released in 1936, a time when factories and machines were celebrated across the world. Industrial growth was seen as success. Speed was praised. Productivity was admired almost without question. Chaplin did not deny that machines brought benefits. What he questioned was blind belief. Through humour rather than speeches, he asked a simple question. If progress harms health, dignity, and peace of mind, can we still call it progress?


For many of us who watched this film while growing up, Modern Times shaped our thinking. We admired science and technology, but we also learned to be careful. Chaplin showed that technology is never just about tools. It shapes how people work, live, and think. It can reduce physical labour, but it can also increase pressure and control. Chaplin did not reject machines. He warned us against letting systems set the terms of our lives.


One of his boldest choices was to keep the film mostly silent, even though sound films were already popular. This gave the story a universal quality. Without spoken words, the struggle was easy to understand anywhere. The machines were loud. The Tramp struggled silently. No explanation was needed.


Now imagine Chaplin alive today, deciding to make Ultramodern Times. The setting would no longer be a noisy factory full of gears and belts. The machines would be quieter, smaller, and often invisible. Yet their influence would be greater. The age of iron and steam would give way to the age of software, data, and artificial intelligence.


The modern Tramp might sit in front of several screens, eyes fixed, fingers moving without rest. Instead of tightening bolts, he would be clicking, scrolling, replying, and filling forms. Algorithms would decide how fast he must work, what tasks matter, and how his performance is scored. Notifications would replace factory whistles. Work would not end when he left the office. It would follow him home, into evenings.


Chaplin might show the Tramp proudly wearing a smartwatch. It would count steps, heartbeats, sleep hours, and productivity. The joke would be gentle but unsettling. The device promises control, yet the Tramp becomes anxious when the numbers do not look right. He stops listening to his body. He listens to data instead. Control is no longer enforced by steel, but by dashboards, ratings, and alerts.


Synthetic Thought

A classroom would likely appear in this ultramodern film. Students would stare at tablets and laptops while a teacher struggles to hold attention. Information would be everywhere, instantly available through digital tools and AI assistants, but understanding would be thin. Attendance would be perfect, recorded automatically, yet curiosity would be missing.


Artificial intelligence would offer Chaplin rich material for humour. The Tramp might receive perfectly written reports generated in seconds, while he struggles to write a single honest paragraph. Speed would defeat reflection. Polished language would replace original thought. The audience would laugh, then pause. What do we gain when machines help us write, and what do we lose if we stop practising thinking?


Social media would appear as another invisible factory. Chaplin might show crowds more interested in photographing themselves than observing the world. The Tramp could do a real act of kindness that goes unnoticed because no camera records it. A staged gesture, however, would earn applause, likes, and brief fame. When visibility matters more than value, behaviour changes.


Automation and jobs would remain central themes. The Tramp might carefully train an AI system to do his work. He would feel proud of helping progress. Then he would discover that the system has replaced him. The humour would lie in his confusion. He followed the rules. He embraced efficiency. Yet efficiency had no place for him afterward.


Still, Chaplin would not end Ultramodern Times in despair. Modern Times did not do that either. Even when everything goes wrong, the Tramp walks forward, hopeful, beside his companion. Chaplin believed that creativity, empathy, and humour cannot be automated or coded.


This belief remains his greatest lesson for the age of AI. Technology moves in sudden leaps. Humanity moves slowly. When the two fall out of balance, problems appear. Chaplin showed this gap without preaching, trusting laughter to carry the truth.


Nearly a century later, Modern Times remains a mirror. The machines have changed. The questions have not. Does technology make life better, or only faster? Does efficiency improve well-being, or just output? Are we using intelligent machines, or are they quietly shaping us?


Chaplin reminds us that progress has meaning only when it improves human life. Machines may become faster, smarter, and more powerful, but they cannot decide what is right or worthwhile. That responsibility remains with people. The real danger lies not in AI itself, but in letting technology race ahead without human judgment, care and balance.


(The author is an ANRF Prime Minister Professor at COEP Technological University, Pune; former Director of the Agharkar Research Institute, Pune; and former Visiting Professor at IIT Bombay. Views personal.)

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