Photo by Thanh Tran on Unsplash
As I sat devouring my 'Coronation Curried Turkey' on Boxing Day, my mind raced ahead to the next big celebration—New Year's Eve. The countdown begins, glasses clink, and we sing, “For auld acquaintance”… all of that. We welcome the new year with vigor, ready to cast off the old. But as I paused, it struck me: You know what? 2024 wasn’t so bad—not for me personally or professionally.
Why should I eagerly discard everything I’ve built, learned, and achieved? Sure, there’s that euphoric revolution powered by a collective, cathartic countdown: 2025 is going to be the best year ever!!! But does the promise of the new require ignoring the successes—and failures—that shaped me?
In 2024, I moved continents (personally my own body, not an entire continent… let’s not get carried away), gave up booze (and felt much better for it), got pretty fit, and travelled the globe for work—contributing to the success of world-class brands. I also played a small but significant role in building a strong platform for One Minute to Midnight to push even further in the years to come.
So when the familiar tones of Auld Lang Syne begin, I’m not so sure I want to toss away everything from 2024. Instead, I want to carry the good forward and learn from what didn’t work.
This reflection got me thinking about the relentless newness of our culture and, in particular, the industry I work in: Human Insight. Brands, comms, product, and service development are in a constant race to disrupt, to destroy what came before, to embrace the new at all costs.
Innovation is vital, of course. Progress is essential. But the “new for new’s sake” approach often comes at the expense of what works. What if the old isn’t just ok but actually pretty good? What if some of it still holds value? I’m not advocating for stagnation or reactionary resistance, but I do believe we’re too quick to dismiss the old in favor of the shiny and the novel.
Consider how our industry chases the next big thing: digital platforms, AI solutions, or a new theory emerging from an Ivy League psychology department. The pursuit itself is admirable—but it can be short-sighted. By constantly reinventing the wheel, we risk creating solutions that are new but not necessarily better. Sometimes the old methods are not only sufficient but superior.
The (likely apocryphal) story about NASA comes to mind: millions spent to develop a gravity-free pen while the Russians simply used a pencil. It’s a cautionary tale that reminds us to focus not on novelty but on genuine utility.
The best innovations don’t merely replace old methods; they enable us to do something new—something that wasn’t possible before. Technology, when used thoughtfully, augments and enhances. Take platforms, for example: they don’t need to replace questionnaires or focus groups. Instead, they allow us to access entirely new kinds of data—autoethnographic insights or reflective thoughts that traditional methods might miss. They supplement rather than replace.
AI holds the same potential. Rather than seeing it as a substitute for what we’ve always done, we can use it to unlock new ways of connecting data, accessing insights, and imagining possibilities we hadn’t considered before.
The challenge, as I see it, is a failure of imagination. We often default to replace, replace, replace instead of seeking ways to augment, enhance, or create genuinely new value. True progress doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game. It’s not about abandoning the old but about building upon what still serves us well.
So here’s to 2025: A year of embracing the new, yes—but only when it’s genuinely new. Let’s bring forward the best of the old, learn from its lessons, and innovate thoughtfully. Because sometimes, a pencil is exactly what you need—simple, effective, and timeless in a world obsessed with reinventing the pen.
Paul Laver, co-founder
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